Ever since I came back from Brazil, my nervous system has been firing. Which doesn’t come as much of a surprise — considering it happens nearly every time I return from travel.
At my Tantra course, my teacher Talib helped me to see that I associate this place with trauma. He helped me to see how traveling has become my means of dissociation. When it all becomes too much, I flee to regain my sense of self, and a sense of safety. And, every time I return, I relive the same symptoms of trauma to seemingly more intense degrees.
For whatever reason, I have not felt safe here. Grand Rapids does not feel like a space where I am safe to be myself. Where I am safe to share my voice. Where I am safe to shine my light. It is a place, rather, where I feel socially compelled to parallel an energy of smallness. Of hiding. Of quieting. And holding back. It’s a place where I feel shame for simply being who I am. The woman made up of the experiences I’ve lived. Radical, incredible, heart-wrenching, sometimes tumultuous, experiences that, nonetheless, I feel shame in sharing. I feel shame in imbibing. I feel shame for the edge they give me. I feel shame for having an edge. I feel shame for the fire that burns in me, and even more shame when I express it. I feel shame for how emotional I am. How my emotions drive the way I engage with life. And I feel anger at those who have shamed me for that. Who have tried to pacify me. Who have tried to guilt me. To de-spiritualize me. And change me. Because of my boldness. Because of my opinions. Because of my truth. Because of my sensitivity. And what I channel. My fierceness. My voice. My confidence. My power. My weakness. My beauty. My strength. For all that makes me a woman re-birthing herself in this spiral of the Feminine Rising. But I mostly feel anger for the way that I let them. The way I believed them. The way I shamed myself and contracted into a version of myself I don’t recognize for their comfort. For their acceptance. For their love. And, also, for my own comfort. For my own safety. For social survival. And for the patriarchal poisons that remind me every damn day: It’s not safe to be noticed, Jessica. It’s not safe to be seen. It’s not safe to shine.
But something that I also experienced in Brazil is that I can create this safety within myself. And last night, my conversation with a dear friend helped me to see that I am safer than I think I am. That I am more supported than my nervous system allows me to see. There are people here who love me. There are people here who value me. There are spaces + communities that are excited to have me share my gifts with them. And there are people with similar fears — if not exactly the same fear. There are people who need me to write this. There are people who need me to write and speak directly from the heart of my raw experience — instead of the hyper-curated, glossy, content-based rhetoric flooded all over Instagram.
In Brazil, I recovered a part of myself that is deep and vital to me. My innocence. My light-heartedness. My spontaneous laughter. My spontaneous tears. My spontaneous truth. The part of myself that wouldn’t know how to be filtered, or pre-meditated if I tried. And to tell you the real fucking truth, I love this version of me. I love who I am. My fiery energy. My watery nature. My unfiltered truth. My wide-open, overly-sensitive, too emotional heart. And THIS is the beginning of my safety. This is the beginning of YOUR safety. To love yourself fiercely. To expose yourself to yourself. To embrace the fullness of who you are wholeheartedly, ridiculously, endlessly.
I’m writing all of this as my formal statement that I’m showing up and coming through raw. My life and my life’s work depend on it. I am dedicated to being a channel for the Divine Feminine and her fullness on Planet Earth. Even if that makes me a target. Even if that subjects me to judgment, ridicule, and rejection. I am dedicated to being an active participant in helping Shakti return to rightful balance with the masculine. And neither patriarchal attempts to undermine me, or the fear and self-protection of my own ego, can shake me off my path. 👇
I’m also sharing this because there are too many people out there sitting on their gifts, thinking they don’t have a “right” to share or guide others because they haven’t mastered whatever it is they are wanting to share with perfection yet. But here’s what I learned (and witnessed) in Brazil: What qualifies you to take the seat of the teacher, facilitator, mentor, or guide — is not a lot of knowledge. Or even a lot of experience. What qualifies you is your willingness and ability to be in direct relationship with your own shame. This is what creates space for others. This is what connects you with others. This is what gives others rest. What truly guides, de-armors, and transforms — is your vulnerability, and willingness to see and be seen. And for that reason, as my teacher said, our traumas are actually perfect — because, if we’re willing, they put us in direct relationship with our power.
I am willing. Are you?
In 2019, I am carving out safe space for the embodied woman. I am carving out safe space for myself. I am carving out space for us to come out of hiding, to come forward to the surface of our skin, and shine our brilliance for all to see. Share a 🙋♀️ in the comments if you’re here for it. 👇