The REAL voyage....

July 15, 2014

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.

Marcel Proust

I had seen this in my acupuncturist’s office for years. And today, as in many times I go to see her, it took on the life of its meaning. It is often puzzling how, as we grow and age, we can take so many events and occurrences and mis-categorize them,  misinterpret them, misunderstand them. Such was the event of my father’s leaving.

He left when I was six but as an HSP I probably knew he was thinking about it at 5. He left communist Bulgaria so I could have a better life. I know that now in my bones and blood and I thank him from the deepest of namastes. I see him, old and frail, white hair, small, perhaps crippled in a wheel chair. I see myself a mother, grown and capable, an accomplished writer, my life soaked, drenched with meaning and contribution, holding him. Loving him, calling him Tati, the love flowing between us, the understanding creating a loop of palpable electricity.

It’s a tricky business this life thing. Fatherhood, motherhood, daughterhood. I am glad I get to experience not only daughterhood but also motherhood. Until now I had insisted on misunderstanding him. I insisted on knowing he had abandoned me. But today, when Esther said I still had the parasite we had been trying to get rid of for months, we asked deeper questions and this came up. I am open to seeing this in a new way, I told my guides. And then the perception opened the realization of how wrong I had been in my stubbornness not to see the truth but how not seeing the truth was how things were mean to be somehow and it was all perfect.

Because I would look at Emil my husband with my daughter and stubbornly tell myself that my father never loved me that much, how could he have, he abandoned me. But now I see one of the biggest wounds of my life in a different light. He didn’t abandon me; he did it for me, so that I could have a better life, so that he could forge a way. It took a lot of courage what he did. And I was willing to see that. See that if I hadn’t come over when I did, at 10 yrs old, I may have come over later, when the iron curtain fell, and of my own volition, feeling less extracted from my homeland.

But then I would not speak English as fluently as I do now. I may not be as deeply seeped in the North American culture. And perhaps I would not have been able to write as well or as eloquently and publish so many books, contributing to millions of lives. As I sit here, before this happens, I dream of being a contribution, sharing with you the deep soul work we are all here to do, to encourage you to help you keep doing the deep work. Because that is the evolution, that is the process, that is the steps we must all take to heal ourselves and the world. And good thing, because all things are moving to healing. And collectively, so are we.

I opened to the guides and I said I accept, I accept. I must channel like this more. I thought of Melissa seaman. They said to write type type type and they danced around in a rhythmical song and dance that made me laugh and cry at the same time, knowing, sensing, believing deeply, that whis walk out into faith, putting one foot in front of the other, as Esther said, is all I ever have to do. So here I am writing writing writing, typing typing typing.

I come home to my peaceful home, a woman now, a mother, a wife. I know one day I would get here, and feel successful. I am still looking around marveling at my life. Except for my health. But we all have our work.

I ask if Emil my husband will support me, and I know he will. I helped him start his business and now he is giving my daughter and I the gift of my being able to stay home with her. And write.

Thank you God,