By Jessica Durivage
I sit here staring at the blank page afraid of offending anyone with what I am about to share. Let me be totally and 100% honest with you: I need to share it.
I need to hold it up to a mirror to reflect back to me, the elixir of the medicine I so desperately crave, but feel fearful, resistant, even repulsed at times at the thought of “it”. “It” being something that I have watched dance in my consciousness as well as my Facebook feed for longer than I probably would like to admit — cropped topped boho-beauties hula hooping into the sunset, circles of women drawing power from the lunar cycles, the Goddess, the feminine, the witch, the priestess, the muse, the mystery, a light worker, a healer, sparkles and glitter; all of these and more make me feel like an outsider to a card carrying club I wasn’t invited to in this life, because I just don’t know if I’m cut from the same cloth as those who subscribe to the collective mentality of…
The Wild Woman (gasp!). A free woman. A rebellious woman. A woman with nothing to prove. A woman who is not afraid to not only contemplate and reflect on the idea that exists around perhaps living from a place that is undeniably her truth, but who is actually living it. Maybe I don’t jive with some of the packaging this comes in. Maybe I am intimidated by it.
Maybe I am jealous of those who don’t really give a fuck what I think.
I observe all of this running my company from behind my desk, wearing my blazer, paying heed to my spreadsheets and tirelessly working to cast the only magical spell called “paying my bills.”
Listen, I know. I might sound like an asshole. I’m really not. I am actually a pretty nice person, but feel like this is my “dirty little secret.” Some of the women I respect and admire most fall into several of these categories and the truth is:
I know better than to place a label on someone and call it a day.
Who am I to say what is dis-ingenuine or inauthentic to another person? Who am I to call out a fellow sister and say that your sparkles and the pictures you post of you in a desert annoy the shit out of me? Who am I to judge the size of your dream catcher (that you probably made by hand with raw materials your sourced from your vision quest in the forest)?
I’m wise enough to know that judgements and criticisms are only reflections of where my wound is.
But can I wear my pantsuit and light my palo alto and ask my pendulum about an important decision I need to make? Some of the pain comes from thinking it has to be either this or that.
This is the part where I hold a mirror to my painful perspective. This is the part where I look with loving eyes at how, goddammit, I’ve been cut off from the roots of my lineage as a daughter of the earth.
This is where I get to see how I’ve ostracised myself by staying on the fringe of the chapter in my life called “THIS IS WHERE YOU GET TO LOVE YOURSELF.”
This is where I feel the ache of wanting to belong, not knowing how because I don’t believe I am worthy enough to show up “as I am.”
I deeply desire to create a loving and honest dialogue with myself around why I feel unworthy of connecting to some of the deepest, rawest and unexplored (wild) territory within me. I am afraid of what this might change. I do feel a whisper, a cry, a wail, a howl if you will; and it’s asking me to lay down the survival strategies that create separation from what you most long to be with.
This post has been MONTHS and MONTHS of inner dialogue, reflection, resistance, inner dialogue, reflection, resistance. Each time I dove into the questions and came back up for air the questions became more refined, more articulate – taking me beyond the caged reality that made it easy for me to turn up my nose when I’d see other women fully coming into an expression that is deeply and oh-so-fucking powerfully their own.
Because you know what? It’s what I want, too. It’s what we all want. All of us. We all want to be led by the voice of wisdom that lives in our bones, we all desire to engage with life using the gift of keen intuition to connect us with realities that go deeper than what the naked eye can see. We all want to look back, forward and in and feel a powerful sense of alignment to purpose, meaning and fulfilment.
Distillation of expression is unique to us all. For some it comes in poetry and prose, others in song, some paint their vision of the world and others build and create with their hands or manifest their ideas into reality.
For me — I’m declaring here and now that I AM worthy of listening to my deepest desires. I’m tired of being scared, of hiding behind others, of worrying who’s listening and what they might think. I can bridge the gap that lives in myself on how to find my balance running a company (in my pantsuit, thank you very much) while running with the wolves — but maybe they were never actually separate to begin with?
. . .
If you are ready to bridge the gap from the life you are living, to the inner cry of exploring a life lived from the inside out, join Jessica Durivage in 2017 for The Soul Sessions, a year-long program to help you rediscover what it means to be
“well with your soul.”