THE CAR DOOR
A little fairy tale (from many moons ago) about letting
the new Love rule upon Earth
( 4-minute read)
It is our very first date, but I already know we have a love story for the ages. I peek down from the bedroom window, and watch him as he literally bounds up the front steps. Seconds later, the doorbell. Last swipe of lipgloss; my hands are trembling.
I open the door and invite him in. We sit on the deck, drinking sparkling cucumber mocktails in the waning summertime light.
In my life, I am a wear-er of the high heels and that night, a statuesque stiletto. He lightly touches my elbow in energetic reassurance as we walk down the front steps. We walk across the street to the car. He gets in. I walk around to the passenger side. My hand slowly reaches for the car door handle, and then it stops. I step backwards, away from the car.
Voluptuous shockwaves of electrifying vulnerability move throughout my body. "Gillian, open the door and get in the car", my mind commands. But my body simply stands there, cheeks flushed, hands trembling, my breath shallow and hot. Michael leans over, reaching across the console between the front seats and places his hand on the interior car door handle.
Our eyes meet through the twilight tint of the passenger side window.
The quickening of the beating of my heart, a metallic heat spreading across my cheeks, my chest.
My mind now yelling:
OPEN THE DAMN DOOR AND GET IN THE CAR, GILLIAN.
My body in complete stillness, the sinking of my heels into the earth, softened by a recent rain.
The chthonic horsemen of shame, guilt, and fear arrive to darkly ravish me with their searing heat: my belly taut, my thighs drawn tight, my throat thickening with a velveted silence.
In a matter of seconds, the collective feminine pain body-- that I, as a woman in her feminine essence, share -- has been activated. As a result,
the nodal network in my brain lights up like a christmas tree, and the fuming thoughts fire:
"Just make it easy for him and GET IN THE CAR. What is wrong with me?
I am going to straight-up RUIN this night by CHOOSING TO *NOT* DO something I do for myself every.single day. Maybe he will just drive away and I will be left standing here, alone, watching his car grow smaller in the enveloping darkness..."
But, suddenly, he is next to me.
I watch his fingers wrap around the sheetmetal of the sleek handle; his other hand solidly at the arch of my lower back, gently shimmying me out of the way. I take my seat, crossing my body with the seatbelt as he returns to the driver's side.
Smell of European leather and gorgeous man.
The air between us is pulsating. Our bodies are wildly alive with the intimacy of sharing the ancient and perhaps most quintessentially erotic --
yet *non*-sexual -- showdown between a man and a woman:
SURRENDER.
I speak my appreciation, my voice soft + true: "Thank you."
He turns to me, holding my eyes with his, gray + bright like the moon:
"It was my pleasure".
Our 2nd date:
The doorbell rings. Lipgloss + trembling hands.
He asks me to come outside to meet him. He once again bounds up the steps to meet me, his hand lightly touching my elbow as he leads me to his car. He opens the door as he hands me a bouquet of beautiful pink roses, smile as bright as the morning sun, inviting me to take my seat next to him.
....................................................................................................
A little chivalrous love story, shared to illuminate how Women / the Feminine CREATE and BIRTH the truest, deepest expression of MAN.
If the feminine essence cannot bear her own pain and her own admittedly excruciating (and deeply sensual, btw) vulnerability to initiate MEN into their inherent GREATNESS, then the Feminine pain body remains rooted as part of *the problem*. If we, as women, cannot bear our own deep vulnerability, we are not only contributing to our own unhappiness, but we are quite literally enabling the collapse of the masculine in the collective.
For those of you in your feminine essence: STAND YOUR GROUND with your man -- with ALL men.
Know with every fiber in your Being that you are WORTH *HIS* SURRENDER, time and time again.
Do not shame him when he falters:
You are not his mother nor his God.
Men WANT to be the hero for you. It is your job to administer this aspect of his hero's journey microdose by microdose.
How?
By standing your ground, and LOVING YOUR SELF
**MORE** THAN HIM.
There are deep activations occurring in the collective + men are being rocked to their core inside this archetypal vortex of healing. There is a *massive*
re-templatization of the archetype of "man", of what it even means to be "masculine" as we co-create a new blueprint of sacred cosmic partnership: individually, archetypally, globally, energetically, galactically.
With my male clients, I witness this mythic descent, this gnarly bloodbath *daily*.
I welcome and honor masculine pain -- because I trust and respect men's CAPACITY to allow the initiatory fires, the forging.
We cannot prevent this raging river of masculine pain. It is their greatest medicine. It is THE primary code that must be unlocked as we deepen into healing feminine pain...this healing winds together in deep cosmic remembrance, the double helix of our shared DNA.
Women/Feminine Essences:
Know that he is being initiated: ALLOW him to RISE in the TRUTH of his magnificence: bloodied, weary, dragging the bloated carcass of our old and dying world behind him.