The last words Master Brian spoke hit me square in the chest; “share from the authority of your own healing experience.” I’ve been wrestling with this notion of being an authority of healing. I had yet to accept that what I have experienced gives me authority to impart healing for the intent of helping others.

At 35, I can confidently say that I know what me feels like. What a road it’s been, inhabiting the skins of my guardians. Cloaking my essence in crowd consciousness. Dampening authenticity for the fleeting rush of belonging to the bond of accepted behaviors.

I am terrified of the Light, I feel what it does to me; shaking loose everything I have ever cherished, every dream I ever built, even those that remained as castles in the sky, thought does not serve a purpose here. I am just the vessel, I guess that’s what I’ve signed on to be, a body that transforms human suffering.

Freedom in commitment. Freedom in consistency. Maturing the masculine requires self created boundaries. A container, a structure for which the wild woman, the free spirit can thrive. Without clear definition I am lost amongst the swirl of emotional tides.