The wheels of the airplane left the steel grey pavement of the runway in Chicago early yesterday morning. Blake and I spent the night layover there with Zach Moyer (my event coordinator and now close friend) and his wonderful partner Spencer Oss. We walked along the beach-like shore of Lake Michigan and out onto a pier. Fish twisted and turned, creating brilliant flashes of silver below us among the submerged boulders. We skipped rocks across the surface of the water. For dinner, we partook of vegan comfort food at a local restaurant and then walked to whole foods, bought two pints of coconut milk ice cream and ate it straight out of the carton with spoons on the living room floor. Sphinx, their orange tabby cat played with my hair and a small grounding stone we placed on the floor for him to explore. We played one of my favorite games; a guessing game where you pick a category (like food or animal) and everyone gets a sticky note with a noun related to that category placed on their forehead. Everyone can see the word, except the person wearing it. The aim of the game is to ask questions to the other person, which eventually leads you to guess what is written on your own forehead. It was a good American send off for this European tour.
My first stop: London, England. The sweet irony is that to be honest, given the events and multiple losses of this year, all associated with London, London is the very last place on this earth that I want to be. I’m not supposed to admit to that. A “good little public figure” would say, “I’m so looking forward to being in London” and list the various merits of the city. But as you know, pretense is not my strong suit. The truth is, this trip has been scheduled for over 8 months. It is an important enough tour that I made the trip despite how torn I feel. But it feels as if I have flown into the lion’s mouth on an emotional level and I already feel harrowed. Murphy’s law is alive and well in my life I can tell you. But all things happen for a reason. I am hoping that in the coming week, the higher purpose behind me being in London will reveal itself to me.
Sometimes life throws you so many blows at one time that your deck of cards falls. I will remember this year as one of those years. I will remember it as the grand transition. I am leaving one life behind. I do not yet know what new life I am living into. Only hints and whispers of potentials call me forward. In December of last year, I was hired for an interview where I was asked to discuss what I “saw” for the upcoming year. I answered that this year was the year of stability. I said that the beginning of the year would be the most unstable time many of us have ever experienced and that it would level out more and more at the summation of the year, eventually culminating in true stability. True stability is born of instability. Transition is the most unstable time of our lives. Just like going from one boat to another, we sometimes fall into the frigid waters and end up gasping for air. I did not know how right I was about my prediction for this year until I lived through it myself. I didn’t want to be right.
I have been dealt blow after blow this year. And as if facing London is not enough on an emotional level, this week a new rash of hate has been thrown my way. But this time carrying much more toxic venom. When you put yourself out in the world, you become a projector screen for everyone. People throw everything they have at you. This means that on top of everything you already struggle with in your day-to-day life, you get hit with everyone else’s weight as well. This is the real reason that fame kills people. And in my line of work, because we are dealing with belief systems and not just personal tastes, people sometimes build their entire career around trying to bring you down.
There are people who believe that I am a fraud and that I have constructed the story of my past falsely, because of money. There are people who believe I am part of the MK Ultra program and that I have been sent by the government to lead people astray (they even speculate on who my ‘handler’ is). There are people who believe I am illuminati. There are people who believe I am a reptilian. There are people who believe I am the succubus. There are people who believe I am the anti Christ. The list goes on and on. For some, it has turned into a highly personal vendetta. They have become obsessed with destroying my career; convinced that doing so would save other people from corruption. They believe me to be either severely mentally ill or villainously genius (depends on the day). For the last two years, they have been trying to sabotage my contracts, speaking engagements and book deals, with some success to my dismay.
This last week, they began harassing and threatening my extended family members, including my parents (right after I made things right with them for once and for all). And today, I was told that as a result of an epic level of betrayal on the part of a former member of my intentional community, they managed to find and interview none other than my very own childhood abuser. They have threatened me with the release of the interview, which they are planning on going public with today. Blake could hardly breathe reading the e-mail. The chief of police who was in charge of the original case was informed. Of course, they were not stupid enough to think they would call up a man who has been implicated in ritual child abuse and he would say “Yes, I did it… it was all me!” They did it because they have already made up their mind that it is all a fabricated story. But consider for a moment… If what they claim they have done is something they actually did, they do not have the slightest understanding of what they have done. The potential ramifications for so many people, including myself are just too much to wrap my head around. The only people, who could possibly relate to what this feels like on an emotional level, are those who know what kind of internal strength it takes to come forward and speak despite the grip of terror after abuse has occurred. I would love to describe it. But I am without words to do so at the moment. I let myself hide under the covers with Graciela and cry with my compression vest for over an hour when I found out. Blake left the house to ride his bike into the mountains and process his emotions there. He has been there for me through the worst of it since the beginning of my recovery. So he was more furious than even I was. I hesitated writing about this latest event in my life seeing as every time I do, I manage to drive a truckload of attention straight to my detractors. Which is exactly what they want. I’m sick of people getting their dose of significance from hating me. But I can think of little else and it is the truth of my life at the current moment. It feels better to get it off my chest. For a long time, it has not been in alignment to respond in any way to their slander or threats. I decided to just carry on with my inspiration and let them yell from the sidelines. But this strategy is beginning to feel less and less in alignment as time goes on and so it may very well change.
Like most painful experiences, this is a spiritual deepening. There are times when you line up vibrationally with things that are genuinely beyond your control. This makes you feel completely hopeless. When you are feeling hopeless, it is tempting to think that you have given up and surrendered, but the truth is that if you feel hopeless, you have not given up; you are instead banging your head against a wall. You are in a state of resistance and you are stuck in a kind of futile desperation to change what you want to change. We have been told for all our life that the strong never surrender. But I am proposing the opposite. I am proposing that it takes even more strength to willingly surrender and to let go of what cannot be changed so that the universe may open doors to what can be. Perhaps it is when we surrender the fight that the jail bars will swing open. I am being forced to willingly surrender this year. There is nothing else to do. No other options. And as a result the resistance that was left in me, is being stripped clean from my being. The painful drama of even the most tumultuous life plays itself out on a canvass of peaceful stillness. When you become practiced enough at falling back into your eternal self (without spiritually bypassing), you begin to experience this bigger picture to the degree that the gravity of these temporal events has less of a grip on you. Even extreme circumstances, like I find myself in today, feel transient and less important than other things. Things like love. Things like the people and places and things that make this world worth it.
This year has exposed the people in my life who are truly capable of unconditional presence. It has also exposed those who are not. As if flushed to the surface, these people have risen into the sky of my life like steady constellations that I can rely on to guide myself back home. Some of them have come from the most unlikely of places. Some of them, I didn’t recognize as what they were before now. But I have found them. Or perhaps they have found me. Every time a heart is broken, the ego becomes convinced for a time that it will wall the heart off from the world. It thinks that by doing so, it will protect itself from further harm. The ego decides that loving is a mistake. This cannot last for long. The heart soon craves the freedom inherent in loving. It reminds the ego that the ego is made of nothing but glass… Glass that is destined to shatter when greeted by the fortitude of love. And so it does. The ego shatters again and again each time the heart decides to love no matter what has happened and no matter what might happen again. My heart has decided to love once again. My ego has shattered. No matter the cost, the risk of opening is less costly than the risk of staying closed.
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