The Place Where Good Girl Becomes Goddess | Meghan Gilroy

The Place Where Good Girl Becomes Goddess

The Place Where Good Girl Becomes Goddess

Ewoks are spiritual warriors, but the next day we were in no shape to tackle the pyramids. The Plague has the majority of the group down for the count. Mio, a master improviser, is not one to miss an opportunity however. Club Med was built upon the outlying area surrounding the main complex and has ruins in its side yard. We’d perform the planned ceremony – with modifications fit for the moment, “changing as fast as God” as Mio loved to say, within steps of the hotel’s front door. I don’t feel completely lousy, but not great either so I am grateful for what I imagine will be a less spirited day. Ha.

 

Don Don and La Doña gather the newbies that have crawled out of bed in front of the hotel, while the teachers who aren’t coughing up a lung head over to the ruins on the hotel’s grounds to prep for the ceremony. We walk through the hotel’s garden, a scrubby desert with some extra flowers thrown in, to a stone-lined room about one story deep that’s sunken into the ground and open to the sky.

 

All the female teachers are sitting on one side with their backs resting on the walls, with the male teachers on the opposite side. They are deep in dreaming. The energy is practically visible within the pit. A slight shimmery wave. Dust catches rays of sunlight that float in the air. A deep stillness and sense of sacredness quickly pervades the group even though we are just barely screened from the hotel’s parking lot. Ewoks can create magic anywhere.

 

We settle in at the top edge of the ruins. It is time for us to reconcile our feminine/masculine natures. First, we are to stalk our relationship with our own gender – to look at our lineage as women or men. Then we are to stalk our past experiences with the opposite gender.

 

Stalk? As in stalkers?

 

I’ve had some persistent suitors but certainly no stalkers. And definitely no female ones. I imagine Mexican Man chasing me down the street, knife in hand. Thank God it didn’t go that far!

 

Before my imagination gets the better of me, don Don explains the mythology of stalking. Picture a jaguar in the jungle. Sleek, confident, focused on pursuing its prey. With no judgments, no opinions, just laser-like intent. We can use the energy of the jaguar to stalk our past, to track down old wounds and hurts. We see. We follow the trail of painful memories and emotions not to re-live them, but to witness them clearly, heal them, and let them go. When we do, the energy stored within the past is freed to be used to create in the direction of our new dream.

 

Don Don’s imagery is so alive and real that I can already feel myself as jaguar. My eyes flutter closed and I am walking down gossamer trails of energy toward my past. It takes all my jaguar attention to follow these pathsways. I stand before my mother, my jaguar eyes peering into hers. I watch as we silently communicate. I see all her hopes and dreams for me, all the hurts and disappointments and love and triumphs and drama that occur between mother and daughter. I take another step through the window into her eyes and now I am seeing her past, her childhood. She looks up at her mother, my grandmother, and bits of her life are revealed too. I come from a long lineage of strong, willful, stubborn, loving, and often unforgiving women.

 

The trail continues back into time. I no longer am witnessing my own family’s personal history, but the story of women throughout time. I see women being abused verbally, physically, sexually. Women triumphing, accomplishing, overcoming. The games we play with each other and with men. The fierce love we have for our families and our beloveds. All of time unfolds. The beautiful. The brutal. The pleasure. The pain.

 

Yes I cry, but I am also uplifted and inspired. I understand. I soften. I forgive. I love.

 

The track shifts and now I am watching my dream with men unfold. With my lovers, my father, his father, my brother. With all the men who took advantage of me – and all the men who I took advantage of them. I see the energetic dynamic between us. Me hurt, wounded. All of my hims hurt, wounded. Searching for love in the other and not finding the love that we want from and for ourselves. Playing out dynamics that existed within our relationships with our parents. Playing out energies that were created generations before us.

 

It was stunning.

 

Again, I cry. For all the hurt little boys and little girls. For myself and my beloveds. My seeing also brings compassion. All my relationships have been part of a bigger drama that has existed for eons.

 

The dream shifts again. With clear black eyes, I watch my personality rise up and congeal energetically. I see all the strategies I put in place to keep me safe. An innocent pure being, dropped into a human body in a human world. Figuring out how to navigate what I felt and wanted and needed with what was available and happening around me. The Good Girl waves at me. The Rebel. The Princess. The Heroine. The Judge. The Victim. They are all there. All archetypes. I nod my stately jaguar head and bow to them. These roles served me well, but I no longer need them to protect me.

 

The jaguar’s piercing eyes turn to look at me. Yes? I was being given the profound choice. Do I continue to act out of fear and hurt and disappointment? Or do I choose to love, starting with myself?

 

Someone grabs my hand and leads me down the stairs into the waiting arms of Cloud. Cloud is Pink’s best friend from childhood and they both met Mio shortly after graduating from college. They were some of his earliest apprentices. Now Cloud is one of the most loved among Mio’s crowd of teachers. She exudes a welcoming warmth, accompanied by a wicked sense of humor. One look into her kind, sparkling eyes and I feel comforted. She’s sitting with her back to a stone wall and she pats the ground in front of her, indicating for me to sit with my back nestled into her soft folds. I disappear into her love. She wraps her arms around me and holds me tight. I am surprised that there is not an ounce of resistance in me. She loves me up and down, sending mama love to all the parts of me that have felt unloved or unwanted for so long. The deep down places that I don’t want anyone to see. Her pure love fills me up to the brim. I am swimming in forgiving and letting go and just being with all the debris that’s been stirred up in the jaguar’s seeing.

 

I feel all the pleasure, all the pain until there’s no difference between the two. It’s as if one half of my bathtub had been filled with scalding hot water and the other freezing cold. In time, its just water, not hot or cold. And I was luxuriating in the feeling.

 

Just then Cloud whispers in my ear, “You feel so much. You feel everything, don’t you?”

 

Everything suspends.

 

All the air is sucked out of me.

 

My mind is reeling. My body floating. My emotion flowing. My perception expanding. My soul one with all.

 

Yes.

 

Yes.

 

For the first time in my life, another being has seen me and recognized me for more than my super hemi-charged brain packaged in an attractive body with a superbly driven will.

 

Yes, I feel. I perceive it all.

 

I am shocked. I am perceiving everything around me. I am attuned to every person’s emotion within this pit. I can perceive the way the flowers absorb the sun. The rocks. So solid and heavy. Witnessing time. My human life a blip. I am the movement of the wind. I am here perceiving from my home base, my body, and yet there’s no separation from all that’s around me.

 

More tears. Of relief and joy and sadness that it took so long to see who I really am.

 

Not a daughter or a girlfriend or a teacher or the smart one who will achieve so much. I just am. A feeling, perceiving being. A life force traveling through this human body. Something that cannot be put into words. I am human. I am divine. I am reborn.

 

I am a goddess, worthy of being loved and worshipped. Without a smidgeon of superiority, I embody my goddess self. Fully, amply. I am love. I love. I am loved.

 

Yes, I choose love.

 

I turn to face Cloud and give her an enormous hug of gratitude. She beams and receives and gives. Our love bounces back and forth between us.

 

There’s some movement behind me and she nods in the direction of a man striding to the center of the ruins. He’s finished with his process with his male mirror on the opposite wall. He holds his hand out to me. Without hesitation, not even a small flinch, I walk over to him and give and receive a huge bear hug. I feel clean and clear and I feel his clarity as well. There is no need, no sexual tension between us. Just masculine and feminine coming together in love and respect and compassion. To each side of us, there are other couples embracing as well.

 

The couples scootch closer, laughing, and we become an amoeba. Good clean lovin’. The giggles die down and an “ooooommmmmm” starts from the center of the group hug. The vibration activates my chest and for the first time I don’t feel ridiculous om’ing with a crowd. We send the primordial sound of the universe out, in, up, down.

 

Bliss.

 

Marzipan.

 

The Place Where Man Becomes God.  The Place Where the Good Girl Becomes Goddess. The Place Where Little Ol’ Me Becomes the I Am.