Vulnerability


I became something I didn’t know I was this Summer.

A mother.

To the most beautiful little girl.

But she came from a very broken place. Many scars. Much pain. Much heartbreak in her short life.

She was so serious, so scared, but she would be brave and put up a big bright smile for everyone, cause she was trying to be the good little girl and not cause any more ripples, be the cause of more pain and frustration, carrying the burden of a long lineage of feminine brokenness legacy and instead try to be a soothing experience to anyone having a bad day and maybe no one would notice the tail of darkness behind her.

Pleasing everyone. Being ashamed of her past and the dark sticky stuff.

I recognized how far she was straying from the path that is truly hers, so I walked her into the forest for hours letting her cry and sulk. I listened to all her mad heartbreaking stories about the world around her, and how unfair life had treated her, how angry she was with the world, with her parents, I loved her all I could, I saw all her pain, and forgave the world, the parents on her behalf and realized none of anything is ever about the ego or taking things personally.

Anger is a cover up for vulnerability, knowing this from my soul, but she wouldn’t listen. ‘The world isn’t so. It’s full of horror and bad things. People leaving and hurting each other.’

I then danced her into the moonlight and let her play with the unicorns and the fairies. We sat under the stars and counted them all and it seemed to cheer her up a bit. As if she began to remember where she came from originally. Claiming her place there between the constellations, soon telling stories of the seas of Lemuria and the gentle winds from Orion and the currents of the Pleiades. But her shadow crept over her once more and her moodiness returned.

I realized her wound was too deep and just listening to her stories made me stuck in the past with her. I reminded her of all the happy times and new memories we had made since those events, but she still was bleeding out behind the wall of reasons and hurt she had built. Cautious. Sad and wounded.

I took her to the beach in front of the bluest of oceans. We sat just her and I for hours picking fossils and beautiful rocks. We swam with the fish and the jellyfish and I taught her to dive under and listen to the song of the Ocean.

I let her be and showed her love and beauty of the world. How calm the Sea can be or wild with roaring waves that crashes violently onto the sand taking in with those waves seaweed and amber from a million years old forests. That all has its order and place in the world. And that all dances and flows with what is. That emotions are wild and untamable, and the ones trying to control them are silly fools. The ones who try to master them and suppress them and make up rules for them are forever bound by them. She laughed and said ‘and the ones who just dance with them are free…’

I held her in my arms and loved her so much this wise little girl, who knew now the magic of stars, tasted of moonlight on her forehead, had let her hair grow long and cried when she wanted to, not because she was sad or aching but just burst with beauty and love for this world, that her body and heart spilled over.

I lifted my head to say something like that.. ‘now you get it’ but the little girl I was holding in my arms was gone.

She came with a hundred stories and I remember them well now.

Now there is a sacred space within me as the mother of my inner child, and I am filling that space with a vulnerability so pure, I am becoming full Woman.

My inner girl reminded me of how badly I had not allowed myself to be vulnerable, and that the strength of being woman is confused with the ability to control my emotions.

This is my super power, my emotional ability, my ability to cry, because tears are the fastest way to transmute the ego’s resistance and stories, hurt or upset, or because my heart and souls spills over with love and the only expression I have for this is tears.

And with the instant release of tears the moment passes with no judgment, no stories or defenses, no absolutes, no pretence, no mask, no lies. Just the one moment of Water running, whether from the soul, heart, ego. It just passes.

I can dance with all I am.

Now.

Photo: Brooke Shaden

​© 2020 by Camila Reland

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