The Drip // Volume 02: King- er, Queendom Come

or: how I realized I was cockblocking myself

Well hello, my Loves,

As I sit outside writing this letter, my neighbor sits, too, talking to someone on the phone about God - that’s the only word I heard. But more than enough synchronicity to stir my movement.

Life’s responsibilities have been piling up this week. Projects I’ve taken on. Worlds I’m creating. Realities in the midst of shifting. A liminal space if ever there was one. And… so much in motion. 

Meeting this chaotic moment has asked me to cultivate an inner stillness beyond any I’ve ever risen to hold. 

Here, my contemplative practice is traversing unfamiliar territory. Awakening me to the places my comforts, habits, and addictions are in the way of what my spirit is asking me to liberate. More Love. More Freedom. Per usual, this requires me to meet myself at my edges. I’m familiar with the pattern. I know what happens when I go all the way through. What appear to be cliffs I’m jumping from expand into new horizons ripe with abundance.

So, why the resistance? Well, the dream is bigger this time. Not selfish. In service of Love. It’s funny how my desire for attention from the outside gets me anything but, even when it seems, on the surface, to be in service of what I want. 

To state it simply: the past few years, my life has been messy messy messssssssy. Now, I don’t mean mess in a negative sense; as an overarching theme, expansion has been looming. But the subtle pull of my desire to be seen without… showing up to be seen in the ways that would serve my greater purpose… has been fighting desperately with my inner Queen. And this round, I’m not giving in.

For whatever reason, these are the challenges I’ve chosen. I’m no longer motivated by trying to understand, intellectualize, and blame past circumstances for present piles of unresolved inner conflicts. It’s nice to have a map… and I’ve been studying the same one for long enough - my past, that is. Now I’ve been asked to master the mess of all messes: transforming the pain of selfishness into the pleasure of service. To shift my perspective drastically. To Love. To Give. 

This morning, Rapunzel appeared in my consciousness, and as I let her permeate me, I noticed my vantage point as she; a fair maiden trapped in a castle borne of her own desire to be saved by some prince. 

In case you don’t remember the tale, let me summarize;

There is a couple who long for a child, but so far, no luck. One day, the woman becomes convinced that she will receive her wish. Simultaneously, she peers out the window to see a beautiful garden of rapunzel (a lettuce apparently in the honeysuckle family) belonging to a feared and powerful sorceress. 

The woman missions her husband to fetch her some of this forbidden fruit, and he does. Oh it is so damn delicious that, despite the danger, the next day the woman comes to believe if she is to have any peace, she must have more lettuce. (Imagine if our cravings were for lettuce instead of sugar and drugs and sex. LOL).

Her husband obliges but is met by the enraged sorceress upon entering the garden. She asks how he’ll pay for what he’s stealing, and fearing what might happen if he were to deprive his wife of her desire for this delightful treat, agrees to give the sorceress their child, their sacred gift, when it is born.

This child is named Rapunzel. When she is 12 years old, the sorceress locks her away in a castle alone, where she is isolated from the outer world except for, of course, the sorceress herself. Who, if you don’t remember, enters the window by climbing Rapunzel’s long locks.

One day, the King’s son hears Rapunzel singing in her solitude, and is so captivated that he, like the sorceress, climbs up her hair to meet her. 

They fall in love, agree to marry, and plan to run away together, but Rapunzel, careless and undiscerning, reveals what has happened to the sorceress who just as quickly chops off her hair and sends her to the desert, foiling their escape plan. That evening, the sorceress traps the King’s son and reveals Rapunzel’s fate. In the aftermath of his grief, he flings himself from the tower, and though he survives the fall, he is mostly blinded by thorns that poke him right in the eyeballs. Ouch.

Meanwhile, Rapunzel is out in the desert raising twins, alone and destitute. The King’s son wanders blindly about, searching the forest for years. One day, he wanders into the desert and hears a familiar voice - Rapunzel’s! In their reunion, Rapunzel throws her arms around him, teary-eyed. And thank God, because two of her tears land in his blind eyes and heal them, allowing him once again to see clearly. 

He then leads Rapunzel back to his Kingdom where they are received graciously and live long, satisfied lives together.

So, after contemplating that confronting message this morning, I also wrote a message to C: “the attention whore has left the bun shop to make space for sky daddy’s queen.”

And so it is. And so the work begins in earnest.

As I contemplated, I came to this:

The reality is, I had to wander around blindly wishing for someone to save me for a while. And blinding myself to my own mission by allowing myself the satisfaction of instant gratification. 

I had to get lost and tossed around by my own chaos. I had to cast myself into a desert of wanting, leaving myself destitute, lonely, in service only to my comfort. I’ve done it for so long, it’s become an easy place to return to. A comfortable home furnished with my pain and sorrow. The veil of illusion: the belief that I didn’t know the way out.

The reality is, now that I have new models of strength and purpose, it’s just an uncomfortable reality shift. But I do indeed have all the tools I need. The sound of my own voice. The depth of my breath. My willingness to traverse my own pain, all the way through to the end, rather than assuaging it with something easy to ingest. 

I had to erect my inner King. Penetrate my own consciousness with this mission. I had to heal him with the tears of my grieving all those younger versions of me that were both distracted and distracting. And with this re-cognition: clarity. A new perspective: King and Queen, both within and in union, reign supreme to carry out a mission leading to deep, lasting satisfaction. Why? because it runs on a foundation of my values and supports my purpose of creating spaces to support more Love and more Freedom.

This is a mission that requires presence, devotion, service, and a passion for learning. Being in reverence to the information received. Loving that instead of collapsing beneath the weight of my responsibility. Not only accepting, but Worshipping the challenge.

For a long time I’ve been asking the question: what does the world need more of from me? What are my unique gifts? What would Love do?  

The discernment that made the difference? How would the Love that is not selfish, immature, or living in fear reveal herself to the world? What would Love who sees my role in the larger order of things do? Who is outward-facing Faye? The Sovereign Queen, not the fair maiden. 

I’m beyond comfortable with self-study. I’ve drowned in it. I’m comfortable drowning, even. Surrounded by self-inquiry. A million books on the subject. Endless distractions. Endless questions to answer. Stories to tell. Narratives to dissect. That space is easy to maintain because it was in service of my former mission which was solely focused on mending my mind through self-inquiry, strengthening my spirit through accessing pleasure, and cultivating body awareness by letting my movement flow and wander.

Those practices served me until they didn’t, which is now apparent. I’m sure these practices will serve again as I enter the depths of a new mission. But let me not get ahead of myself. Let me focus on now - on this dream - this Queendom I’m building. 

The missing piece was structure. The castle. And damn, did I resist. I suppose I was just swimming in the moat.

Several months ago, becoming aware of my predicament, I wrote the words: “structure is sexy,” in my journal. And then I sought models. That, and attracted them with my expression.

It’s funny, the ways we cockblock ourselves from our dreams. Honestly, writing this is a bit humiliating, and I could shame myself for not having seen it sooner, but how could I have? I could judge myself for being a late bloomer, but that would be counter-productive. Besides, facing humiliation is a necessary piece of the journey of entrepreneurship isn’t it?

So I come to this: if I am to practice what I preach (which is exactly what’s happening), knowing I am an expression of divinity and it is my responsibility to create the world I wish to see - I have to get the fuck out of my own way. So what if I get embarrassed? So what if it’s not graceful? So what if it doesn’t go the way I expect? 

If I’m not willing to be humiliated in the process of creation - if I’m not willing to be a “bad artist” or a beginner or someone who is not an expert at what I’m learning - do I really want it? Am I actually being driven by my values toward my purpose, or am I indulging a selfish and fear-driven desire to be perceived the right way?

Okay, that was a lot. I’ll stop. 

Here are some things I’ve been inspired by lately:

1. Spring! All the flowers blooming. Contemplations on the power of beauty. Gazing upon beautiful objects and noticing how it opens my channels of gratitude and clear vision.

2. This article from the Marginalian on “What Love Really Means:

3. Kitty cats. I was cat-sitting over the weekend and this little beauty became my loving shadow. And made for some great photo-ops

4. The King, himself. Talk about foreshadowing.

   

5. Other people’s love letters.

6. Painting. I find it necessary to let go of all the wordsing I do sometimes.

7. Music. This week’s inquiry involved listening to love songs as though I’d written them to myself. I highly recommend you try it. Quite a powerful way to reorganize your mind.

I hope you enjoyed the stories, and I hope you’re having a beautiful Monday.

Stay inspired, ask good questions, be still, listen, take purpose action.

xx

Faye