Emerging

I’ve been in the closet about some things in my life and I’m ready to bust that door right off its hinges and start living in my fullest possible expression. A good thing to do right before my 35th birthday, I’d say (and it’s tomorrow, so I just made it under the wire).

The picture to the right there says it all. I took the picture five years ago almost to the day. Back then I didn’t feel comfortable sharing all of myself. I felt trapped inside of some kind of funhouse mirror, never able to emerge in full focus, always off to the side, hiding.

That my face is hidden is especially appropriate. Being seen in any major way terrified me up until just a little while ago.

It’s taken me a long time to get here. Many things have helped me along the way: therapy, dreamwork, supportive friends, bodywork, intuitive training, and most recently and importantly, shamanic healing.

That last item leads me right into the first thing I want to own. I am declaring, once and for all, that I am a healer.

By that I mean I utilize energy work to help people become whole. I heal issues from past lives and I perform soul retrieval. I remove harmful energies and bring back beneficial ones to bring the soul into integrity. I read the aura and chakras to find out where they are blocked and assist people in restoring their natural flow. I work with dreams to uncover the hidden parts of us so we can reunite with them.

For some, that all might sound a bit too woo woo. But, that’s okay. Because I’m pretty woo woo. That’s just who I am. And I’m not going to hide it anymore.

It is because of the shamanic healings I’ve received recently that I feel comfortable writing all that.

I’m not even cringing, or feeling a tightness in my stomach. I don’t have the urge to erase it all and start over. I’m owning it. It feels good.

A powerful healing I got several days ago removed eons of junk that wasn’t serving me and now I can see more of my true self. I’m telling you, this work is powerful.

What else do I want to own? I’m bisexual. I’m queer.

I’ve known since I was 18, or maybe younger, but I pushed it right down until it was just a whisper hidden in shadow. I had plenty of opportunities to come out, but at each turn, I chose to disown that part of myself.

The funny part is, from as young as 15, I was a passionate gay rights supporter. I was vocal about it and I even had a sticker on my car that said, “I’m straight, but not narrow.” A gay friend gave it to me when I was 19 and I couldn’t wait to stick it in my back window. I went to the Long Beach Gay Pride parade that same year and I cried out of happiness for all the people walking around, holding hands, being completely out and proud. Now I realize I was crying for myself too.

In 2004, I married a man who, six years later, admitted to himself that he’s gay. It was when he owned who he was that I had the courage to accept the truth about myself.

After our divorce, I slowly came out. I feel so much better. And I also feel scared, too. It’s taking me a while to feel comfortable in these shoes, even though I’ve been wearing them my whole life. I guess I haven’t broken them in yet.

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Those are the two big things. I’ve got some other bits lurking in there, like the fact that I still wish I was a singer performing on stage and that, despite how painful it was the last round, I hope to publish a children’s book again one day.

There’s little things too, like the fact that I’m a serious geek who’s watched Battlestar Gallactica twice through and who thinks an all-day extended version marathon of the Lord of the Rings trilogy is bliss. I can quote The Princess Bride extensively and I’ve seen Labyrinth and Neverending Story about a bajillion times. Oh, and I was obsessed with New Kids on the Block when I was 13. So there you have it.

And all of this is ME. For better or worse. And it feels so damn good to own these parts and share them proudly.

Grandpa Cecil with his cat, Flash

“Few of us ever live in the present. We are forever anticipating what is to come or remembering what has gone.” ~ Louis L’Amour

My grandpa Cecil loved Western adventure author Louis L’Amour. I remember Grandpa sitting on his living room couch in the warm afternoon light reading L’Amour’s latest paperback.

The connection between Grandpa and Louis L’Amour goes deeper than the fact that they were both native North Dakotans.

They also both knew something about mindfulness. It turns out that, when I knew him, Grandpa was a pretty good study in being present. He appreciated and relished the small moments, like watching the squirrels chasing each other in the backyard, or fishing on a lake high in the Rockies.

If he wasn’t reading, he was down in his workshop creating bolo ties and belt buckles, in the garage working his rock polishing machine, out puttering in the backyard, or watching nature shows. He went from his morning Sanka in the kitchen to the stones in his workshop with a goofy, mischievous smile on his face, one that, in my memory, stayed there pretty much all the time.

A California Quail intarsia Grandpa made

Life was simple at Grandpa’s house. It was about art, having fun, being in nature, and enjoying food and good company. The days passed easily and with lots of laughter. My fondest childhood memories took place at his home filled with rocks and Scandinavian food.

I realize as I write this that I’m trying to get back to those easy days at Grandpa’s house. And to do that, it’s apparent the key is to continue cultivating simplicity, gratitude, and mindfulness. I don’t have to look to other cultures for models on how to be present; I had one in my own family.

Grandpa Cecil passed away on March 2, 2001 when he was 81. After he passed, I took a walk in Redwood Regional Park in Oakland. I sensed him lurking behind the majestic trees, skipping along like a giddy kid. He stayed with me for a few weeks and then I couldn’t feel him anymore.

But he comes to me in my dreams sometimes. And there’s one I’ll never forget. We stood in his kitchen and I looked out on the backyard with its many trees and plants. He looked at me and said, “Don’t you want to play with your Grandpa anymore?”

And I told him, with great sincerity, that I absolutely did.

In The Eye of The Whale (Movie) from Kate Miller on Vimeo.

When a friend posted In the Eye of the Whale on Facebook last week, I dropped everything to watch it.

The film follows photographer Bryant Austin, who takes life-size photos of whales. He’s my new hero.

It’s not only because he’s using his art to raise awareness of these magnificent mammals so that we’ll continue to protect them and their environment. It’s also because of something he said about four ½ minutes into the movie:

“When I go freediving here in Monterey it’s a form of meditation…I’m reconnecting with something bigger than me, where I came from, the source. I often exit the water and on the drive home answers come to me, what I need to do. The answers come to me with conviction. It’s so important to my sanity.”

Austin knows one of the major secrets: we can put our trust in nature. It connects us with source, with the Divine.

If we slow down and listen to its messages, we find answers. And sometimes we might not even be asking. Nature often offers these gifts for free.

Try it sometime. Go into your backyard and find a comfortable spot to sit, preferably on the grass or next to a tree. Or take a walk down the street and look up at the sky, the sun, and the clouds. Find a park and sit with the icicles and snow drifts. Maybe you’ve got cherry blossoms bursting out on the trees on your street. Go say hello to them.

Ask a question that’s been haunting you. Then let go of it. Give it to nature. Empty your mind and enjoy what’s around you, the leaves, the snow, the cherry blossoms.

Then, perhaps like it happens with Austin, you’ll be walking back home, or cooking dinner later that day, and the answer will come.

Have you had an experience where nature answered a problem? Share with me in the comments.

I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I had a terrific response to my survey and I’ve gained clarity on how I can best share my gifts. It is truly a blessing.

Before I go on, I want to announce the winners of a free spiritual healing or dreamwork session with me: Betty P., Laureen B., Kate B., and Sarah M. Congratulations! I will email each of you soon. I look forward to working with all of you!

The results of the survey surprised and excited me. Most of you responded that you want support with finding your voice and true self and with removing the blocks that hold you back from doing this.

The great news is, I can offer two things right away that will help: spiritual healings and dreamwork, both on the phone and in person. If you’d like to know more, please email me.

I’m also cooking up lots of other offerings that I can’t wait to share with you!

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One thing that’s clear: self-acceptance is a major piece here.

If you feel like you’re struggling to find your true self, you may be listening to the voices in your head that tell you you “should” be any number of things: thin, into classical music, married, straight, a vegetarian, a career woman. But maybe you’re a curvy, single bisexual who eats chicken and listens to hard core punk. Maybe having a career is the last thing you want.

Listen to your Self, not the Shoulds. Your Self knows who you are.

Case in point: the goat who was a dog. I ran across this post by Ellie the Headologist and it describes the beauty of being exactly who you are no matter what anyone else says or does to try to change you.

Who have people wanted you to be? And when you ask your Self, who are you really?

Please share in the comments!

(Purchase the heart print on Etsy.)

Climbing in Belgium. Photo by Guillaume Lion.

First, thanks to everyone who answered my survey. Your responses are a tremendous help! You can still take it and enter to win a healing session if you visit the link by Wednesday. Winners notified by email on Thursday.

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“Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on.” ~ Eckhart Tolle

Trust is a tricky topic.

Because, these days, who can we trust? When I look around at the traditional things we’re supposed to trust, I come up empty handed.

Governments are in bed with large corporations like Monsanto and Exxon-Mobil, ruining our food supply and environment.

Schools fail our children by forcing them to prepare for tests that demonstrate nothing about their true potential.

Religious institutions cover up sex scandals and denigrate women.

Sweeping statements all, but you see my point. Who do you trust?

Thinking about this question takes me back to the day I went rock climbing for the first time. Guillaume, a friend I met in Norway, gave me a crash course in ropes, strapped me into a harness, set up a route, and told me to go for it.

I started up that cliff full of excitement and hope. I felt my muscles working to lift and push me higher and my confidence grew.

Then I had to get around a big rock. Instead of going around it, I climbed further into a recess next to it, toward what I thought was safe. My arms and legs started shaking and getting weak. I needed a break.

But I couldn’t let go!

I clung to that rock with all the strength I had left in me. I was terrified that if I let go something awful would happen. In that moment, I didn’t trust the rope, the harness, or Guillaume. I was stuck.

Guillaume yelled up at me. “Looks like you want to crawl into that hole!” And I did. I wanted to miraculously shrink and go right into that hole where no one could see me failing at rock climbing.

I gathered myself and yelled down. “I don’t know what to do. It looks like there isn’t any way except to climb around this big rock and I’m too tired.”

Guillaume said, “In rock climbing, we always say there isn’t just one way. You have many options.” He encouraged me to drop back into the harness and hang to rest a bit.

My mind lit up with exclamation points. Let go of the rock? Let go?

I clung to the rock harder. How the hell could I do this?

But then a small voice inside spoke up. It told me I could trust him. I could trust the rope and harness. They were there to support me and if I just let go, I’d be held.

I took a big breath and let go of the rock. It was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. And that small voice was right: Guillaume, the rope, and the harness held me. I was safe. I didn’t die. And I hadn’t failed.

I swung there for a while, enjoying the support. Guillaume pointed out a new route and I climbed a bit more before coming down. And then, a half-hour later, I put my trust in that rope and harness again and I rappelled down an 80-foot drop.

So, who can you trust?

You can trust that tiny voice inside. It is always speaking to you, if you’ll listen. It has profound things to say. Call it your intuition, your Higher Self, your gut feeling. By any name, it will save you time and again

You can also trust your support network. These people are there to encourage you to let go and to catch you when you dare to leap.

Think for a moment. Who is your support network? Even if you only come up with the name of one person you really trust, that’s enough. That’s all I had on that cliff.

Hold these two resources in mind: the tiny voice inside and your network. Every time you’re clinging, afraid, stuck, call on them. Ask for their support. You’ll be amazed what happens.

(You can learn more about finding trust in my Care of She class. It starts in a little less than two weeks.)