Moments like these, so simple and blessed are entries into a deeper realm of introspection. Carrying this delicate magic I drew a hot bath of salts and essential oils which is my morning ritual. The mind cleared of worry and slipping into the warmth of the surrounding water it was easy to allow whatever needed to rise to consciousness the space in which to do so. Sometimes one must wait patiently not grabbing onto the first thoughts that present, being practiced at this I drifted on the sea of consciousness.
What eventually came in fully was from my childhood, the dynamics of a dysfunctional family and how much suppressed rage my father still holds. This surprised me as it's been a long time since any of this has circled back around. Listening to my heart's beating empathy allowed me to see how very deep the human psyche goes, how patterns passed down from generation to generation keep playing out. I've known since childhood that it was within me to break this chain and reclaim parts of myself and indeed all my ancestors propelling us toward a new horizon.
A prayer of truth and love for my father started writing itself, things that spirit now tells me I need to speak for without truth the deceptions are permitted to stand. You see, as I saw myself and my brothers grew up in a house of terrors, nightly haunted by dark dreams and invasions of entities. Our mother so vacated that she needed us to affirm her so had nothing to give in the way of nurturing. A father who drank and womanized and when he couldn't take the pressure any longer would erupt in rage. Sadly as I just learned on my visit to California he took this anger out on my youngest brother by regularly beating him with a belt... The little girl me lay in my bedroom hearing this and there was nothing I could do. The grief I feel right now simply wants to be expressed for my little brother so tender and loving received the brunt of a father's rage. As I meandered through these memories I recalled how my five year old self decided that she had to become the parent and take care of the family, such a heavy burden for one so young.
I know I have stepped outside the bars of my personal traumas, so what moved me to inner tears was seeing how this abuse passed down from father to son has been playing out over and over again, how severely traumatized the male is, how my brother has modeled his life on my father's patterns. He's left out the drinking and running after women but his politics, his patriarchal views and underlying disrespect for the feminine led him to his choice of a wife that controls his every thought and move ... Seeing this and what was felt is how deeply he thirsts for his father's love.
Truly there is no judgement in my heart, this patterning of human behavior is so entrenched that only a few have the ability to dig it out and fewer still have the will to heal it. My 93 year old father who is approaching the end of this life hasn't found the courage to make amends, to recognize within himself how liberating a simple act of humility is. As his daughter, his flesh and blood I also carry his noble spirit, his determined strong will and lion hearted loving nature, all buried under his unhealed traumas.
Eventually I will speak of this to him, it is my way of breaking patterns for the truth unspoken dies on the vine never giving the gift it contains. Speaking freely without recrimination of self or other is liberating for shadows brought out into the light of the sun are the only ones that can be absolved. Speaking with love and compassion is one of the little every day miracles that seem like insurmountable hurdles but how fast the walls crumble when you do.
Bunny love for the tender ones.