I dangle neatly between love and fear all the time. I have perched myself on a pendulum so that I may swing back and forth at will.

And that’s an important point: at will.

One of the lessons that is clear as day, in my face right now is how important it is- how healing it is- to offer love in the lowest points. To extend it when things are dark and tense and hard. It’s getting better. But it’s difficult to offer myself the same. When I mess up, I swing way over to fear and I stay there. I immerse myself in condemnation, knowing for certain I am the worst.

This past week was difficult. Friday’s full moon was a motherfucker. It drew me, the baser, illusory evils within me to its glow and held me there. Two days before, I had an argument with my daughter that left me feeling hollow. She is the most lovely thing in the world to me; she is also my greatest teacher. She can say things that make me look at that dark space within. In short, she triggers me. She has this calm, cool exterior and the most heartening laugh. She is intuitive, possibly more so than I. When she was four, she told me she was my mother in another life and that we did not get along.

This makes more sense to me than I could ever express.

I am a very maternal, nurturing person, but with her I find it difficult at times…like a part of her won’t let me, and like a part of me finds it backwards. And because being a mother has become such an intrinsic part of my identity, I bristle when I can’t get it right. I feel my very being threatened and it often ends with both of us in tears.

And so this argument was intense. I wanted to run out of the house, but I couldn’t. I wanted to run from these feelings that I was a terrible mother, but there were two blue eyes in front of me, begging for love. In the thick of it, I closed my eyes and imagined myself above the scene: my daughter- ashamed of what she’d said, and me- feeling the truth of her words like a sting.

Floating above, the first thing I noticed was how we both looked as though we were reaching for one another- that we wanted to embrace, but someone had to break the ice. I noticed that we were both apologizing, but not really listening to each other. We both wanted to take the blame.

Back in my body, I reached for her. Taking her in my arms, I whispered all those primal feelings every mother holds: I love you no matter what. I will protect you. I stand with you always. You are my baby girl and nothing will ever change that. Relief washed over her and she melted right into me.

It took me another four days and nearly constant prayer before I could offer that love back to me.

Dangling neatly between Love and fear is a mess. And all I can say is I want Love. Guilt and shame are awful and when I’m caught in their snare, I’m no good to the ones I love.

So I go back to the Lessons from A Course in Miracles: “I am never upset for the reason I think.” and “I could see Peace instead of this.”

And I let Spirit change my mind.


To say that it is easier to offer love to a ten-year-old girl than it is to myself is an understatement. She’s innocent, right? She’s the child, while I am the adult. On a worldly level, that is obviously true, but from the perspective of Spirit, we both deserve love. In the eyes of God, my daughter and I are the same.

And that’s what this is all about for me…learning to see as God sees. I am willing…even though it doesn’t always make sense….even though it can sound like a wide-eyed load of crap at times. I am willing.

I am willing to offer Love…even to myself.


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