Breaking My Silence

I haven't been writing or even talking much lately (unless you ask my 12-year-old daughter, who says I talk "non-stop").  I have been remembering to listen - to other people, even strangers, to my own words as they come out of my mouth and hit my eardrums, to my inner voice that speaks very faintly, to my ancestors, guides and angels.  And, perhaps most importantly, to the Universe.  I have always been a talker and this year it was time for me to be a listener.  I have learned A TON from listening; for instance, coffee makes the chatter-y voices in my head talk faster and louder.  Nikki has discovered Eminem and of course it's perfect because he speaks of all the angst-y, in-your-face, 'I'ma be who I'ma be' energy that she is fully inhabiting right now.  And I like Eminem, I used to listen to him, which gave me major cred when I quietly began singing along in the car.  I thought Nikki's eyes would bug out of her head.  Anyway, he's on near constant rotation in our car these days and likewise in my head.  And on coffee he really is a rap god. 

Also, I learned that about 50% of what comes out of my mouth is utter bullsh-t.  Truly just crap.  Stuff I made up and then believed, stuff that I wish were true, 'observations' that are simply rehashed and trite.  Much of it is mind-reading - where I tell people what I think they are thinking.  Oh man.  Ouch.  That's the hardest one for me to be with.  My brilliant daughter has been telling me for years that I do this.  And I would think "Oh...children...if they only knew..."

Turns out they do know.

And what they know is that grown-ups need to shut the fuck up.  We older folks have been drinking the Kool-Aid for waaaay too many years to really know what we're talking about when it comes to the younger generations.  When my daughter was born, I marveled at how perfect she was - a pristine, whole Universe in the form of a human baby.  My deepest knowing told me that she came fully equipped with all she needed, yet I still believed I had something to teach her.  I needed to inform her about the world, about how to be in it, how to navigate life and other people - how to do, well,  EVERYTHING.  She began telling me when she was about three that she really didn't need my help in this.  Not in those words exactly.  She would say "You're not being a very good mother right now" when I was trying to convince or coerce some behavior from her.  She would say "You talk too much."  She would say "I just need some silence right now to think about this."  I began telling my husband when she was about eight (in whispered tones), "I think she might be the teacher. I think maybe we should be listening to her."  And because I was battling the fear that I knew NOTHING about children based on my own childhood, I ping-ponged back and forth between my own knowing to let her be and what the 37 parenting books on my shelf said about consequences and building respect and showing who's boss. She never responded to discipline or consequences or any show of 'power' over her. She has always known of her own power.  Any attempt on my part to tell her she wasn't powerful fell on deaf ears, because she knew it wasn't true.

How did I try to tell her she wasn't powerful?  By trying to coerce her to be a good girl, to play along, to do what I said, to follow the rules.  She wasn't having any rules.  She navigates the world moment by moment, according to what's true for her.  She's not much concerned about what's true for anyone else.  And you know what?  She's right on for her age.  On many levels, children don't truly learn about 'other' until after the age of 14.  Until then, it's all about them.  And why not?  Why not let her childhood be about discovery - self-directed discovery, so that she can lead her own self into unchartered territory.  Isn't that why she came?  To reveal something new, something never seen before?   To be the one and only divine emanation moving through the unique collection of DNA called Nikki Gelb in this lifetime?  Why try to make her like everyone else?  Why try to get her to follow society's rules?  Who made up these rules?  So much of what society believes and teaches is total crap to me.  Just look at television.  And I'm supposed to teach my girl to follow some code of conduct or rule of ethics because...?  Because it makes folks comfortable when everyone conforms.  It makes us feel safe and secure when we all agree to buy each other's bullsh-t.  Well, I'm not buying it anymore, not even from myself.

Our educational system in this country is set up to make good employees.  It is set up to create a society that is good at responding to 'authority' and following rules.  What is 'Authority'?  According to Webster's Dictionary it is:

1) "The power to give orders or make decisions: the power or right to direct or control someone or something."  Ok, what gives someone the power to direct or control someone?  Do I have the power to direct or control my daughter because I am bigger, stronger, older and wiser than her?  What if I'm not wiser?  She has proven to me countless times that I am not wiser.  She came into this life much more awake than I did.  I have been fighting through years of illusion and misinformation to get clarity on what is true for me.  My parents REALLY believed in the whole authority thing so my voice was squashed - mightily - from very early on.  And with my voice, so were my own feelings and knowing of myself.  She refuses to be squashed.  She knows her own voice.  I'm cool with that.

2) "The confident quality of someone who knows a lot about something or who is respected or obeyed by other people."  Someone who knows a lot about something - ok, I get that, albeit with knowing that any time a human takes in information, it is washed through their extensive filtering system so ultimately can only be 'truth' for them.  I may look to you to be an expert because you have spent time investigating something I have not looked into, however if I were to spend as much time looking at it as you did, I may reach an entirely different conclusion than your 'expert' opinion.  I may not know more about my girl and what's best for her than she does.  She is likely a better expert on herself.  And one who is OBEYED by other people?  Yuk.  I can only obey those whose leadership I resonate with.  I trust myself first and foremost.  Should I ask something different of my daughter?   Should I 'teach' her to obey because it makes others uncomfortable when she doesn't?  I'm not talking about criminal behavior here.  I'm not talking about anarchy.  Obviously there are 'rules' we all follow so that the world doesn't fall apart.  I'm talking about others telling her how to act, how to be, how to think.  How to control herself so that she speaks in a way that doesn't offend.  You know what?  Her power doesn't offend me.  She fully stands in her power and as a youngster, she's still figuring it out.  She's still in the laboratory of childhood, testing out where the line of 'too far' is so that she can find out how far she can go.  She mostly does this with me and her dad now.  Out in the world she's apparently fabulous - all I ever get from other adults who spend time with her is how wonderful she is.  A friend who's home she recently slept at texted the next day "Your daughter is delightful!"  Her teachers adore her, report cards rave about her.  So with me she is contrary, rude even, constantly pushing back.  Good.  With me she gets to explore her own power in a safe way.  I can take it, even though sometimes I suffer for it.  Sometimes it hurts my heart.  Good thing I have a strong heart and the clarity to remember the truth of her - and myself.

3) "A quality that makes something seem true or real."  Seem true or real?!  I'm not even going to touch this, except to say that for me, this fairly well sums up most mainstream 'authority' in the western world...

4) "Persons in command or a convincing force."  Under this definition, my daughter is the authority.

So here we are in this world of parenting where most people seem to follow the age-old model that looks something like this: begin with problem solving, move into explanation or advice, then onto rewards, deals or punishments, throw in some rules, responsibilities, expectations, duties and obligations. When these don't produce the desired result, move to labels and diagnosis's, criticism, contempt and/or withdrawal and finally into the inevitable blaming and/or shaming.  I tried every single one of these throughout the years.  Every one.  And all it got me was nothing.  Perhaps some temporary behavioral change that was short-lived and inauthentic.  The truth is Nikki is a very smart, very present being who has been keenly observing the world since she got here.  She knows what society expects of her.  She knows that eventually she will need to take responsibility for herself so that she can navigate her world as a healthy adult.  She knows the right thing to do - and this knowing is real and true because it comes from inside of her.  I didn't plant it in her based on what I know.  My job as a parent isn't to create a mini me or even to create a child I 'approve' of.  My job as a parent is to create a safe space for her to grow, to provide many myriad experiences for her to challenge herself, bump into herself, recognize herself, love and accept herself.  BE HERSELF.  Her own innate wisdom will take care of everything else.  The old patriarchal paradigm world will do its best to convince her that she is not wise unless she believes and behaves like everyone else.  I will continue to do my best to help her remember what she came with and who she is, beyond anyone's definition save her own.  Any 'good' behavior she may pick up at home can come only through my modeling of it.  Not telling her about it.  Not demanding it of her.  By being it, so that she may know it AS me.

If you see my child yelling at me in public or being rude or bossy or all of the above, try not to let it bug you.  Maybe if your child witnesses it, you can use it to discuss what doesn't work for you.  Know that it's ultimately ok with me, even if I may have a pained look on my face.  With every unkind word or tone, my daughter gets to know herself better.  She gets to experience who she chooses to be in any given moment.  Right now, quite often, she is a hormonal, moody, yelling to be heard girl.  That's cool.  Tomorrow she will have moved on to another layer of herself.  I'm down with all of it.  I trust her.

Ultimately, do I wish my daughter treated me with respect?  Of course I do - that sounds lovely.  And slightly preposterous at this age.  She isn't capable of even understanding what respect is for several more years.  Any show of 'respectful' behavior from my wild-spirited child would simply mean that I have successfully punched her into some mold of my choosing.  I would take 'consideration' at this point - we're working on that.  We're working on helping her to identify her feelings and needs and how to get them met so that everyone wins.  We're working on showing her that we have feelings and needs that also must be addressed.  We're working on being ourselves, authentic, unapologetic, free.  It feels good, it feels right, it feels like the truth.

Every child is different and needs diverse things from their parents.  Every family dynamic is unique unto itself.  I honor your truth, your knowing and how you are raising your children.  I am grateful when you honor mine.

Happy Hour

  A few months ago I made myself a perfect martini on a Tuesday night and posted a photo of it on Facebook.  It flew mostly under the radar except for my drinky friend Colleen who lives in Seattle, who commented she was relieved that my priestess thing did not exclude Happy Hour.  I replied that priestesses like to be happy.  This small exchange has been rolling around in my brain ever since, mainly because it was kind of shocking to me to think that friends might surmise that a spiritual path was not compatible with an occasional martini.  Those who know me well know that me and martinis go way back and red wine is my friend for life, as in til death do us part.  I simply can't imagine denying myself the pleasure of sharing a really killer bottle of red with great friends and great food.  So I've been sitting with this idea of how friends and acquaintances may be perceiving my 'priestess' path.  I know that word is charged, although just how charged is only now beginning to take a discernible form.

One weekend in Montecito, where the Modern Day Priestess trainings are held, we were sharing the beautiful grounds of Casa De Maria with a Catholic church group from Southern California.  There were many priests and nuns accompanied by a small group of fairly buttoned up lay women.  This group was clearly uncomfortable with us - we, as priestesses in training, in yoga clothes and groovy shoes, flowy scarves and stone necklaces, medicine pouches and feathers.  And love - a ton of it, worn whole-heartedly on our sleeves.  One day at lunch as my friend Aliyah and I were busing our dishes, a woman from the group engaged her in conversation while I chatted with the cutie-pie who was taking my dishes through the kitchen window.  Aliyah shared with me when we left that the woman had asked her "So what do Modern Day Priestesses do, sacrifice cats?"  Hahaha and she wasn't kidding.  In that moment, I was intensely mad and then intensely glad that I did not hear her question.  Aliyah had the grace to navigate that moment with calm assurance.  My response would likely have been much more charged, with an invitation for this woman to shut it  gather information and perhaps even think before speaking.  And then I would have reminded her of her responsibility as a "religious" person to seek and spread the truth rather than propagate preposterous, fear-based fantasies.

After this encounter, it became very obvious how uncomfortable we made this group and I must admit the smaller part of me took every opportunity to be as close to them as possible, to catch their eyes and flash them giant smiles, to really press their buttons  give them numerous opportunities to see the error of their first impressions.  One night as we moved through the dinner line, one poor priest  marooned himself between me and another priestess as we moved through the line filling our plates.  His discomfort was palpable and of course I wanted to help him grow so I kept leaning around him to speak to the priestess on the other side.  After a few moments, he became so uncomfortable he began singing hymns.  In the dinner line.  Seriously.

What really bummed me out about that weekend was that here was a religious group that came up against something really uncomfortable for them and rather than approaching us in an effort to speak to the chasm between us, they widened it.  We priestesses are incredibly approachable individually and collectively; how beautiful it would have been to have found each other in our common ground, in our shared love of the sacred.  We could have spoken to the truth that despite outward appearance and affectation, we are all the same, with the same hearts, the same needs.  We are simply taking different paths to the same place.  Instead of feeling the love that we are, they felt fear.  It makes me sad that these "people of God' are so cut off from their own hearts that they don't recognize love when they see it.

What I took away from that weekend was that my path is to be authentic, no matter what.  Even if it makes others uncomfortable.  My authenticity is in service to them even more so in those moments of discomfort, when they get to bump up against their own selves and maybe even examine what's eliciting their response.  And if they recoil (or attack) in fear, with no self-examination whatsoever, that's their business, not mine.  I get to keep being authentic.  And the good news is, authentic to me means living fully in my human experience.  Drinking, cursing, even making bad choices sometimes.  Sometimes being a less-than-stellar mother and telling my almost teen-aged daughter to shut it  keep her opinions to herself and maybe even go to bed.  Right now.

This notion of living a monastic life in service to the divine has never sat right with me.  Growing up Catholic, I could always feel the underlying anger of the priests and nuns and did not understand it until I was older and realized the implications of taking a vow of celibacy.  For all but a very small percentage of humans, celibacy is against our biological and innate nature; this is clearly being played out in the horrifying drama of abuse amongst Catholic priests.  In Judaism, no such vow is required.  In fact, Rabbi's are encouraged to be married so that they can better attend to the lives and needs of their married congregants.  Rabbis are also - along with all adult Jews - essentially required to drink wine on Friday night to usher in Shabbat. Drinking wine is a mitzvah (good deed) in Judaism.  Wine is considered holy in Jewish tradition and is used to sanctify most special moments and celebrations.  At the Purim holiday, which just passed, we are encouraged to drink so much wine that we can no longer distinguish the good guys from the bad guys.  What a beautiful teaching - to acknowledge that through the course of a lifetime, we will all inhabit both sides of that equation.  And once a year, with the help of the sacred fruit of the vine, we get to actually see that.  The Purim story is rife with references to excessive drinking and throughout the Torah we are instructed to "drink and celebrate".  This is one of the many reasons Judaism works for me - it acknowledges again and again that life is rich and full and fantastic and awful - and ultimately, unspeakably beautiful.  This is how I want to live - embracing the whole bloody, beautiful mess.

So what does being a Priestess really mean?  It means that I am more myself, martinis and flaws and all.  I acknowledge and honor the energies of the planets and the totality of their influence.  I honor the energies of the Earth and all that encompasses.  I actively engage with many realms and dimensions and integrate them here in the 3D.  If you take a walk with me, I might climb up on a big rock so I can lean against the stone and feel it.  So I can give it permission to teach me what it knows.  I listen to the wind and the trees and the birds and even the sound of cars.  There is wisdom in all of it. I watch the stars and the moon and live according to earth's rhythms.  I pay attention.  I watch and I listen.  And I love.  Every single particle of it, every human, all life, I love. (This includes martinis).