"Women do not like timid men. Cats do not like prudent mice."
So a book that I must write has presented itself, but before I can delve into that I have to blog my way through a few loose ends. Yes, I'm back on the job with regards to evolving. Annoying, I know. However, if you're reading this, you're probably on the same train...even if you're a few cars behind. Or ahead, for that matter. And if that's the case, this will be like a distant hum that resonates a familiar note here and there, then vanishes when your own personal journey pulls you towards a song that is meant just for you.
Regardless of the source, be sure to listen. If you do, you will hear what you need to hear when you need to hear it.
As one who is committed to the practice of sharing my time and energy in the healing process of others, by definition I am committed to healing myself as well. My circle of influence within the healing community fully understands this, since those of us who choose a practice are very much in touch with our own need to heal. How else can one empathize? Of course, choosing to practice the healing arts doesn't put you above it all. Oh no. That would be too easy. Sometimes you see or intuit your own demons in the spirit of another, and this is no accident. As a matter of fact, the moment I found those shoes and put them on (after years of wearing the shoes of a really pissed off, unofficial healer) my own healing journey became a maze of unexpected twists and turns. Some good, some not so good. But always spot on!
For instance, my last divorce (and I do mean my last!) was the result of my own need to reinforce a very low opinion of men. Well, if your life experience in the formative years has shown you that men can be abusive, unpredictable, unsafe and downright pigs, what are you more likely to do? Marry Prince Charming or someone who pushes your very last "men are pigs" button? I was obviously ready for that experience, because he pushed that button good. And you know what? I'm glad he did. It was the straw that broke this camel's back. Of course, he got what he asked for too. Here's hoping he learned something from it; otherwise, he'll marry his mother again.
I think some women wear the pants on the homefront because they have to. After all, masculine energy will present where it is needed. Always.
Which leads me closer to the exit door on this train. It's a damn shame when a woman has to wear the pants at home! Seriously. I don't mean that in the sense that a woman has to be all lacy and demure and submissive. And certainly she should be treated as an equal in a relationship. I'm just saying that a woman who finds herself in that situation (usually by choice, reread the above paragraph if you must) is truly robbed of something. She doesn't get to be the woman. You know, that lovely space in a relationship where she can let her hair down and feel cherished and protected. When you see such a woman, then you can rest assured that her man is truly the man.
I'm definitely finding my way off this train. I've progressed from an unspoken invitation to audition for second fiddle, or maybe Plan B, to simply not being old enough.
I'm also a genuinely happy camper these days. So, if you see this denim-clad ball of fire headed your way...relax! I'm not going to kick your ass, unless you want me to. Then again, I might just keep walking!
Yep, I've got a set of balls to be sure. But make no mistake about it, my tits are bigger.
Well, depending on which button you push. And if you push them both at the same time? Woo hoo!
NOTE: In an effort to keep this short and sweet, I've left out a few stories that are quite beautiful where men are concerned - two "little boys" in particular who taught me so much, and to whom I am grateful. But I've said enough. Just know that I am fully aware that men suffer too. We're all in this together right? Maybe one day we'll all be helping each other and we won't have to recycle all this crap, again and again. Here's hoping! Meanwhile, Kimmy Sue and Ruby Lou are celebrating another step towards the whole of some divine masculine AND feminine.
Regardless of the source, be sure to listen. If you do, you will hear what you need to hear when you need to hear it.
As one who is committed to the practice of sharing my time and energy in the healing process of others, by definition I am committed to healing myself as well. My circle of influence within the healing community fully understands this, since those of us who choose a practice are very much in touch with our own need to heal. How else can one empathize? Of course, choosing to practice the healing arts doesn't put you above it all. Oh no. That would be too easy. Sometimes you see or intuit your own demons in the spirit of another, and this is no accident. As a matter of fact, the moment I found those shoes and put them on (after years of wearing the shoes of a really pissed off, unofficial healer) my own healing journey became a maze of unexpected twists and turns. Some good, some not so good. But always spot on!
For instance, my last divorce (and I do mean my last!) was the result of my own need to reinforce a very low opinion of men. Well, if your life experience in the formative years has shown you that men can be abusive, unpredictable, unsafe and downright pigs, what are you more likely to do? Marry Prince Charming or someone who pushes your very last "men are pigs" button? I was obviously ready for that experience, because he pushed that button good. And you know what? I'm glad he did. It was the straw that broke this camel's back. Of course, he got what he asked for too. Here's hoping he learned something from it; otherwise, he'll marry his mother again.
I think some women wear the pants on the homefront because they have to. After all, masculine energy will present where it is needed. Always.
Which leads me closer to the exit door on this train. It's a damn shame when a woman has to wear the pants at home! Seriously. I don't mean that in the sense that a woman has to be all lacy and demure and submissive. And certainly she should be treated as an equal in a relationship. I'm just saying that a woman who finds herself in that situation (usually by choice, reread the above paragraph if you must) is truly robbed of something. She doesn't get to be the woman. You know, that lovely space in a relationship where she can let her hair down and feel cherished and protected. When you see such a woman, then you can rest assured that her man is truly the man.
I'm definitely finding my way off this train. I've progressed from an unspoken invitation to audition for second fiddle, or maybe Plan B, to simply not being old enough.
I'm also a genuinely happy camper these days. So, if you see this denim-clad ball of fire headed your way...relax! I'm not going to kick your ass, unless you want me to. Then again, I might just keep walking!
Yep, I've got a set of balls to be sure. But make no mistake about it, my tits are bigger.
Well, depending on which button you push. And if you push them both at the same time? Woo hoo!
NOTE: In an effort to keep this short and sweet, I've left out a few stories that are quite beautiful where men are concerned - two "little boys" in particular who taught me so much, and to whom I am grateful. But I've said enough. Just know that I am fully aware that men suffer too. We're all in this together right? Maybe one day we'll all be helping each other and we won't have to recycle all this crap, again and again. Here's hoping! Meanwhile, Kimmy Sue and Ruby Lou are celebrating another step towards the whole of some divine masculine AND feminine.
