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What We Really Need to Know

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So, we’re taught from day one how important it is to have parents. A mother and father to care about us. This mirrors the Mother Earth or Gaia, and the Father Sky, known by many names.


And though I had a physical mother and father, Gaia and Father Sky were my only true parents. That doesn’t make it easy to share memories. When people ask for stories from childhood, they usually want to hear something that begins with “once upon a time” and ends with “and they lived happily ever after.”


But have you stopped a moment to think about the themes in most if not all of the stories that we call fairy tales? Most have to do with the archetype of the mother, or of the father, or both. Usually from the perspective that something is lacking with mother or father or both. That’s the human perspective. Widen your perspective a bit more and you’ll see that the themes are really the divine masculine and the divine feminine.  


In other words, fairy tales are metaphors for our concept of our most sacred selves, how well we “fit” into our individual life paths, how well we meet the struggles and challenges offered by life. What woman hasn’t wondered, if even for a moment, if she is “woman” enough? What man hasn’t wondered, again, even for a brief blip, if he is “man” enough?


What fairy tales are urging us to think about is the concept of what it means to be male or female and the consequences that occur when either or both archetype fails.  


I know. That’s way too objective for most people. I mean, who’s going to stop and think as an abusive father is beating the skin off their back with the buckle end of a belt, I know that this man’s DNA brought me into this corporal body but he is just an archetype for the growth and tempering of my soul?


Yet, at a very basic level, that is what life comes down to. We are individual variables, sent to learn, so that our soul—our unique essence—is gradually refined. So that, in turn, the bigger organism of the universe is gradually refined as well, so that it can seed more star systems and continue the process.


What brought me to this was a very big disillusioning concept that showed me once and for all that I didn’t need to try to glean sympathy or even understanding from people outside of my family of origin. From my earliest days, I knew the Laws of Light. I felt like I was two minds in one. One mind was that of the two-year-old or the three-year-old or the six-year-old, etc. who was being beaten or abused, the body’s pain making the spirit cry out.


The other part of me was the ageless part that warned me ahead of time that a beating was coming, and reminded me that I was sent here for a bigger purpose. So I’d have these silent, inner conversations as I heard the thunder of feet drumming up the stairs toward my room, or felt the vibrations of anger rocking the house as one of my parents sought out an instrument to “discipline” me with and without giving in to the physical body and begging for mercy.


So I’d count the blows. I’d get to two or three, maybe, then the abuser would realize their efforts weren’t providing the desired response. The lashes would come harder, sharper, until I dissolved into the child self, and did whatever was necessary, crying, begging, even confessing to things I didn’t do, just to make it stop.


And though I had been determined not to seek revenge—that’s what smoldered in me after my hiccupy breathing calmed. Not because of the secrecy, the collusion I was forced into, making the family appear normal and “happy” in public. No, what got to me, energetically, was the idea that the abuser was able to tear me away from the Laws of Light.


And so when I grew up, of course I ran as far away from my family of origin as I could. But I couldn’t stop talking about them. It was as if I wanted everyone to know how wrong they were, how mean they were, how cruel they were. I got lost, for many years, and in a way, that was the victory of the people I was supposed to call “parents.”


I even yelled into the universe itself, demanding justice not only for the years of abuse and neglect but also feeling sorry for myself.


“I never even had parents!” I cried one day.


A response came, quiet and as always, from a completely different perspective than I had anticipated.


The message wasn’t of comfort, or reassurance, or sorrow at my plight. The message was, instead, a simple question.


“Did you need parents?”


That question sent me reeling for years. Trying to replace the parents I never had with other people, only to transfer my sense of betrayal at my parents onto them, which of course resulted in disaster. Someone along the way said that ultimately, when we humans are angry at life, we’re angry at the universe. So I turned my anger in that direction, demanding that the universe make right what It had allowed to go wrong.


In answer, another question.


“Do you remember why you came here?”


Which resulted in more months of emotional spinning, bargaining, demanding.


Until I remembered. A parent is an archetype. The reason the fairy tales were told at all was because something wasn’t right in the basic relationships and responsibilities between people. The princess would never have needed rescuing if the king had done what he was supposed to do, set up a safe environment, not just for his immediate family but for his kingdom as well. The fool would never become a prince if those born as princes did what they were supposed to do. Other princesses wouldn’t have had to flee their homes if the queens had been secure enough in their own sense of who and what they were to reveal their Gaia spirits by nurturing those around them.


It all came down to one point. The archetypes, my own upbringing, societal structure—everything.  


Empowerment.  


A big lesson that our particular race of humans is learning is that of empowerment. If I feel empowered just to be me, that is all I need. Do you see? I never really needed parents at all. Yes, sure, someone needed to feed and clothe me until I could do that for myself. But I wasn’t sent here this time around to be nurtured and coddled. I already knew the laws of kindness, compassion, and love. I needed to learn the consequences that occur when people choose to disregard those laws. Specifically, I needed to learn what happens when people feel disempowered.


And so, that was the disillusioning thought that broke the spell—another major fairy-tale theme, by the way, that freed me.  


Because once I knew, I mean, really knew, deep down, that I didn’t need parents, there was no longer anything to prove. There was nothing to forgive. There was no one to hold accountable, which caused my resentment to evaporate like a cloud on a summer’s day.


And now?


Now I’m me. Just me. And that’s more than enough.


END


 

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