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So, I survived Christmas Eve without my children. They were happy and safe with their father and our dear friends, having a magical evening. Didn't even miss me.

And me? I am still here! I made it through!

It took me a while to be able to really see again. It has been some time since I remember being that blinded by my own pain, and anger--seeing everything through a fiery red filter--perhaps since last Christmas?

So, Christmas brings up a lot in me. It always has.

My entire life, it was the one time my family came together, and I felt a sense of completion. I felt my fears assuaged. I felt my heart bubbling to the brim with magic and love. And what do you know, Christmas Eve was at the heart of it. Every story was put on hold as we sat around a fondue pot--so much magic in the air, Santa pulling off the impossible. There were no restrictions, no shoulds--except to make merry! Permission granted for ultimate JOY!

As a child, I savored this time, (especially when I realized it came around each year)relishing these moments that came to signal, for those few precious hours that the searching was over! We were complete! It was going to be okay!

I was a believer! It was finally easy...

So, this year, to feel on the outside looking in... I see now that I really didn't stand a chance. How I didn't see it coming, is a mystery to me. It is just that the arsenal of tools that I have built up have served me so well--getting through divorce with a semblance of peace, moving through motherhood with increasing awareness, etc. Yes, there are rough patches, but nothing that I can't breathe through. I'm no sissy. I've given birth.

But this? This wasn't labor. This was dying.

Nothing worked. I could have called friends, but even I knew that nothing could save me. I only wanted my little ones. I wanted their soft bodies to hold. I wanted to feel their anticipation as they waited for Santa. I wanted to see the traps that they made to catch Santa, to have him make noise so that they would wake up and know that he was real. I wanted to lovingly fill their stockings, while they were sleeping, like I have all the years of their little lives. I wanted to be there on the magical night they'd been so excited for, for months. I wanted to sit around the tree and sing Christmas Carols when the night became silent, and their eye-lids grew heavy. I wanted to be their mother.

So it is a few days later that I feel my vision returning.

Yes, I have been changed.

I have been broken open. I have been left raw and wounded.

I have been softened.

So, how did I choose to live this Christmas Eve? Am I free?

This much I know: I chose to honor my pain. I spoke, even shouted my truth. I owned that the separation was breaking me. I let myself feel it. I let myself collapse to my knees, having no idea how I would get back up again. I let myself stay there, pathetic and weak, and lost.

When I could, I let my body move me. I let it take me on a sacred walk in the woods, where fragments of my heart still remain, sifted with the forest debris, ground into the muddy forest floor, to be stamped upon by unknowing hikers, to be tossed about by harsh elements--to be shit on by dogs.

I let myself feel anger. I let myself express it. I let myself carve stories of betrayal.

And I felt free, because I couldn't suppress it. I couldn't ignore it, and I didn't.

In other words, I allowed all of my humanness to come through. I let my body hold the pain, even when I wasn't sure it could contain it all. I let it burn through me. I let my heart break.

And I didn't apologize! Not even once. I wore no special badge of courage. I did no pretending that I was fine.

I gave up. I felt myself humbled, not knowing anything, not understanding anything--felt myself alone in the universe.

The old me would have tried to absorb all of the pain, to stuff it down, and to chastise myself for not being able to get over it. I might have asked myself what was wrong with me--told myself I was broken and I better not let anyone find out.

Not this time.

I let my experience unravel me. I let it rush over me breaking the dam of all of my carefully bridled emotion. I let it spill over, and leave me empty, and strangely ready to be filled.

I was surprised by the magnitude of my pain, and the implied attachments that I couldn't reason myself out of. I was surprised at how deep the conditioning still existed for me around this holiday.

But the beauty is that I found the absolute resounding truth about myself: at my core, the most important search for me is all-encompassing, unconditional love for one another--for oneness in all things.

Of course, as a child I had recognized this love, symbolized in all the beauty of Christmas!--and now I was being shown that it was my attachment to this illusion of happiness that separated, that stood in the way. My attachment to how it should be held the fierce and dark power to turn me from my brother--to make me HATE him, to make me feel separation and loss.


So, this is the solemn ground upon which I stand, ready to rebuild out of the rubble--the ultimate truth of my being ready to move from here--needing to move from here--this was to be forward. I see that now.

My quest is not in vain--but I've been searching down the wrong rabbit hole. My Soul needed to show me in a big way.

You see, if I buy any part of the illusion, it separates. I needed to see that from the outside in.

Gently I allow myself to move forward, to inch ever so slightly into this new place, the direction in which I see, I've always been moving.

I sink into myself as I write this--sweet surrender.

I am left unsure of anything--and in this the gift of all of it. For this is where I feel the divine. It is where I settle into the bottomlessness of the physical world, and accept what is.

My Soul knew I was ready for this. I was ready to go deeper, to experience myself in a new way. This was it.

I am becoming free! not because I was able to move through that night with grace, but because I allowed all of myself to be ripped open with the pain, to feel all of it, and to be reborn from the ashes. I was a vessel for release, to surrender to something larger than myself--something I couldn't control, and see that I wouldn't want to. There is a divine order in the chaos.

I found the space between, the place my Soul wanted to be, to experience a level of feeling in my body that could never be forgotten.

I felt the heartbreak of a thousand, and it is burned as the memory of physical sensations into my experience. I won't easily forget. I won't easily take for granted.

There is strength in this place. It is a place where anything goes. Anything.

I so get that the Source is found in a place of acceptance, when we have relinquished control of it all, and turned it over; when we are broken open and can see our brother as ourselves--there are no distractions in this place, to keep us from really seeing one another.

There are no walls, no one on the outside, left out in the cold. There are no stories because my pain is yours and yours is mine. We are tuned into one another. This is a place of true vision. This is a place of true compassion.

This is a place where we allow ourselves to feel, and others to feel, and find in that beautiful allowance, brotherhood.

THERE IS NO MORE PRETENDING!--and if a brother turns from us, we see that he is afraid! He can't handle becoming that vulnerable, and we love him anyway--and gently he is nudged back to the heart until feeling exposed starts to feel normal.

Oh the beauty, THOSE WHO CAN REALLY SEE US SHOW UP. Actually, they've always been there, but we begin to see them--INSTEAD OF ALWAYS LOOKING PAST THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


I love that I was so honest with myself. I love that I honored my pain. I love that my heart is so exposed right now. I love that I am this much closer to surrendering to what is, to living my authentic life, lovingly, radiating all actions out from my heart center.

I welcome my humanness--all of it. I am done resisting my existence. I settle into you in this moment. I feel so thankful that you brought me on this journey. I am this much closer to whole, because I see that wholeness is unexpectedly configured in the space between, in the place where the bottom threatens to fall out from under me, but where I no longer feel afraid.

No more tiptoeing around for me. I'm taking deliberate steps near the edge, less and less afraid of dislodging a loose bolder and losing my footing. I'm ready to fall, and to open my eyes and see the beauty all the way down.



  1. whew. I'm wordless and amazed.

    What a gift being broken open can be when we're awake enough to see.


    Such a powerful experience!

    You shine brightly...even when dealing with shadow.

    Thank you for being so open... allowing us to glimpse into the abyss of pain, walking through shadow with you.

    The beauty of "I see you".


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