Presence – or Heaven

When you have a family with a big split – there’s a lot to clean up afterwards. Afterwards meaning when you grow up and realize all you have buried – all the conclusions you made as a wee child when shock happened, what all that meant about YOU – and the great coping mechanisms you made to surf it and survive it all.

So comes the time when you look at yourself with great compassion and decide to receive all those old feelings, give them an expression – not to get back, not to win, just for yourself: this is how it felt in the body. I have a right to feel it – it is healthy and it is healing me.

So I have been gradually working myself closer and closer to that man in my life who planted the shock in my body when I was a baby, and who planted the shock waves in the family in a way that allowed us all to live in ignorance of what was going on – himself included. I deeply believe that I am born to explore and bring consciousness to this tremendous split – and what happened this glorious morning was an instrumental piece of atonement of what I have named “The Jekyll and Hyde”-syndrome – where the loving father/mother in one second switches into his demonic twin.

This morning, there was a great opening to ” it is OK and welcomed to truly feel that fear. To completely allow those energies of insanity back into the body and consciousness – because you are not alone NOW: I am with you, and I am willing to feel this with you.”

The voice speaking this is what I call the witness/observer:

This is THAT in us that was never harmed or hurt, that cannot die, was never born – that embraces and love you completely each and every moment – your Self. And since most of us have succeeded in putting this Self in the backseat, so we can truly explore separation fully, we now want to gently allow it back in.To not set the bar sky-high, we may go for an angel instead of the Self:  a witness who is completely accepting and loving of all that we are. Deeply nourishing energy, kind, gentle wise and strong. Just like the parent we all wished we had   –  here it is now. Just pretend! that’s what imagination is for.

As the Observer sat with the aspect of my Self who still carried this insanity-energy locked up somewhere outside/inside the body, and suggested that  I was willing to feel everything WITH the aspect, something relaxed in her. It is vital for me that I remind myself again and again to keep a space between the Observer and the aspect – in that way, I will not merge and fuse with the insane energy, and it will – for the first time – notice that LOVE is present.

Guess what happens when insanity meets LOVE?


And so I was willing to take the chance, the small self/aspect trusted the presence of the Observer.

The first seconds, there was a gradual building up of sensations in the body. There was fear, and the Observer suggests, ” I encourage you to feel that fear. Good for you, you know! At last you dare to feel this fear.Go for it!”

And you might take a big breath when you read the following: the energy I write it with, is pure bliss and Presence.

Suddenly I and my father are together in a winter landscape. It is dead calm, except that this is all about life. We stand still on our skies, there is no sound, no others. Just a Presence of Being that embraces us with indescribable love – allows us to know who we are in this world, one with all. And this feeling I feel WITH this man – it is what is available for us all. Seen from this loving level, we as souls chose all that dark energy to come into play to be explored.To come to this sacred moment where we both see the truth of who we are.From this point, in the bed in the morning, I forgive myself for setting myself up for this and for asking him to play this role. I forgive myself for being involved with these energies for so many lives – and it simply does not make even a nudge in the Self that we are.

Next memory: my father and I sit in a wooden rowboat on an ocean with out a single ruffle disturbing the endless mirror like surface. It is sunny and warm, we are fishing. It feels like we are sitting on the very edge between heaven and earth – and what is above is what is below, there is only here and THIS.

Third memory:

He walks ahead of me into a wood. He knows exactly where to walk. He is a pathfinder, and now he leads us to a paradise of shining yellow chanterelles.  I am in ecstasy! He had led me to a treasure, and he allows me to pick them all, smiling tenderly at my joy.

At the path back to our car and civilization, we talk about the bushmen of Kalahari – how we both adore them and their way of living.

Fourth memory:

My mother has recently died. My father and I sit in the living room – he in his big self-made  green armchair, me in front of the fireplace. We listen to Mozart, and all pain is transformed in the radiance of our union.


In bed, I feel the energy of the beauty and presence we shared, and recognize it as the absolute truth of who we are. I recognize that I can choose to allow the dark energy now to come into those heavenly spheres of Self and Truth – so I do that.

Writing this down – and sharing it with you all – is my way of grounding it. Growing up with this split and deep denial – as so many of us are – creates HUGE fields of distraction/dissociation-energy as a necessary smoke shield of protection. This pattern we have named “US” – so now it takes vigilance and steady practice to notice “oh there i go again, distracting and confusing myself. I really want peace instead.”

And then I choose to remember these places where we are one: skiing deep in the wood, out on the sea,  finding the golden treasure together – and being lifted into the bliss of Mozart.


Thank you for reading this through. I love you, whoever you are who chose to do that. If you enjoyed it, you may also enjoy my two books here on this blog. Or not 🙂

The Split

I listened to Danna Fauld’s poem on a meditation tape in the night – Tara Brach’s – and was taken by these lines in particular ( in italics:)

Awakening Now
 Why wait for your awakening?
The moment your eyes are open,
seize the day.  Would you hold
back when the Beloved beckons?
Would you deliver your litany
of sins like a child’s collection
of sea shells, prized and labeled?
“No, I can’t step across the
threshold,” you say, eyes
downcast.  “I’m not worthy.
I’m afraid, and my motives
aren’t pure.  I’m not perfect,
and surely I haven’t practiced
nearly enough.  My meditation
isn’t deep, and my prayers are
sometimes insincere.  I still chew
my fingernails, and the refrigerator
isn’t clean.”  Do you value your
reasons for staying small more
than the light shining through
the open door?  Forgive yourself.
Now is the only time you have
to be whole.  Now is the sole
moment that exists to live in
the light of your true Self.
Perfection is not a prerequisite
for anything but pain.  Please,
oh please, don’t continue to
believe in your disbelief. This
is the day of your awakening.
Danna Faulds
From: Go In and In: Poems From the Heart of Yoga

 This morning I had a Skype sharing with Kit again. I had not planned to say what I said, but out it came. I told her about my clear impression/inner image of an old sourpuss – and how it feels that he has occupied my body and soul. Sometimes he feels so viscerally close that I smell the old tobacco stench from his filthy clothes – as if he is present as an imprint, just invisible.

He hates and sneers at absolutely everything. And – there is something else, something so disgusting about him –  I don’t get it yet …

Sometimes when he is present, I identify with these feelings, his presence – and feel that something is off, since I am not an old hateful man who stinks of tobacco. But “he” does occupy my nervous system. And – I uttered this vehemently  to Kit- I cannot fathom why I hold on to this soul piece to make myself small, as the poem states it.

Kit points to the intensity I say fathom with – filled with judgment and condemnation for myself. It is true: I have such venomous hatred for that part of me who has subjected me to this foreign male drunk-energy or whatever it is.

So instead of trying to figure this out and get rid of it, we agree that we will just BE with it and allow stuff to come as it will – and not judge my condemnation of “him” or myself for having accepted his energy/soul-part.

The minute I accept and don’t try to figure out and resist, I  am back to being 11year old, on the way back from school on my bike together with a class mate. I “see” him crystal clear now: his old dirty thin long gray black coat, and him flashing it open, being naked, and the red strange bulgy looking thingy between his legs – and me wondering what in the world that was – since I had never seen such a thing before.

In this moment there is an avalanche of energy going through me: I HAD seen this thingy since I was born, both my father’s and other men’s – but now I realize the tremendous dissociation in my mind: there was the belief and experience of a “whore-Leelah” –  and this other, “normal” schoolgirl who knew nothing at all about the part that was considered a whore. This 11 year old schoolgirl now saw an erected penis the first time, and had no idea about what that was. I feel her reaction: “What is that? why does he do that? what for?”

This is the tremendous power of the mind to split, to make separate selves.

Kit tells me she get shivers up her legs  – and then her whole body – when I share this. That’s the sign I need that I have touched deeply repressed stuff, allowing it to be seen at last.

As I now see the image from outside, I see an energy transfer from him to the 11 year old me. Just writing this makes me yawn and feel nauseated: I see this soul stuff, this old hateful thought form/whatever we may call it/ coming into me.

At last this has fallen into place: “he” – who might even be the man’s own father’s soul part -is with me.

What I see now is a great insight: his flashing was the first time this “normal” girl-part saw this sexual part of a man. The flasher is bridging the two parts of me – and only when I am 69 years old, do I at last realize the scope of my splitting and repression.These 2 identities had no knowledge of each other.

And right now I think I have to figure this out – otherwise “he” will stay inside my being forever, parasiting  on me –

“Only as long as you believe in it” suggests Kit – “what if we just BE here right now, until something pops up.”

An ocean of grief is seen. And the tensions of having to be prepared for the worst to happen again and again and again.

Kit remembers the Zen Kuan of the gooseling in the bottle – how to get it out of the bottle? The student realizes “it was never inside there in the first place” – and is enlightened.” Leelah, you are saying that you don’t want him there – but what if he never was there,  – you have experienced it, but there exists another dimension where he was never inside you –

You can turn toward the dimension where he was inside you – or you can turn toward the light shining through the open door.”

 Yes I truly can and will


Kit shares about a fall-out between herself and her youngest boy who refused putting warm clothes on when leaving the kindergarten – and her ending up with taking him on her lap in the park and force-dressing him – with devastating results for them both – and how she ended up with allowing her son to walk to the bus in his thin clothes. She shared her feeling of helplessness and powerlessness, and found deep feelings of personal shame. She suddenly thought about the flasher and saw the direct connection: when we do not find space for, and accept  the helplessness within ourselves, we give room for the violence and brute force.

The “monster” is really an expression of our deepest despair and powerlessness, and his act is a scream: “help! I am powerless!” We see the universal aspect of powerlessness that we all share – and the shame comes when we take it personally – when it is all about “me.”

Suddenly I see through the appearance of the flasher. There is forgiveness for us both, for everyone who find themselves trapped within a dark emotion that they identify with.

Do you value your reasons for staying small
more than the light shining through the open door?
Forgive yourself.



The morning after writing this, I have dream. I am teaching in a Waldorf School, and the pupils are about 14-15. But there is a little girl among them – maybe 4 years old. She is dressed in a homemade knitted red dress and red dressing and shoes – and she beams at me with such a joy and love, and comes to me and hugs me tenderly. Her love and gratitude enfolds me.

Yesterday I set her free.

Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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