Cutting the umbilical cord

We feel separation from the moment we are born, forced from the warmth of the womb. We feel separation as babies when we are weened from mother's milk. We feel separation the first time we are left with a babysitter, the first time we are left at child care. And psychologists say that in fact unless this separation happens in a healthy way in the first 2 years of our lives, we will suffer as teenagers and adults. Unless a mother can bring herself to separate, she will smother her children and their ability to be fully independent beings. And she will probably limit her own ability to move on in her role as mother.

I have often felt smothered by my mother's love. She worked so hard bringing up three children on her own. So hard that she was always tired, upset, angry. And still she wanted the best for us all. Which meant she also had great difficulty when any of us did things or chose things that she did not consider to be the best for us. And she always told us so. She had - and still has - difficulty identifying as a separate emotional being, so when something happens to us she feels it is happening to her as well. As an adult for a long time I still felt very judged by her, by her opinions, by her telling me what to do. To the extent I stopped sharing my vulnerable moments with her because the last thing I wanted to hear was her judgmental opinions on the matter, or deal with her upset. And my pattern of communication with her remained that of a teenager defending myself, arguing, being combative. And wondering why I still felt so bound to her, still smothered by her love even though I live on the other side of the world and am in my mid-30's.

Until around the time of my 35th birthday. It all had to do with cutting the emotional umbilical cord to my mother, truly letting go, setting myself free and thereby setting her free of any blame I had been giving her throughout my life. It hurt like hell. And it was a necessary stage of adulthood.

Completing my 35th year was a time of going through some very uncomfortable moments of shedding layers. I am a big believer in 7 year cycles. Every 7 years our entire physical being has renewed itself. Not a single cell in your body existed 7 years ago, because these cells live in 7 year cycles. Saturn returns to the same place it was when you were born exactly 28 years later, so it's the 4th seven year cycle. And there was that great documentary series made which followed a group of people every 7 years: "7-Up", "14-Up", "21-Up", etc, to see if the notion was true "Give me the child until (s)he is 7 years, and I will give you the man (or woman!)"...turns out it wasn't, because all of these people made dramatic shifts and turns in life every 7 years.

I was very conscious of this process of dying and giving birth to a whole new phase, just as I had been on my 28th birthday. This time, so much dying was going on, so much pain and letting go. And then when my mother came to visit me in the US where I had been living for a few months, we kept bumping up against each other like we always used to, and I felt like a teenager reacting in anger and frustration, feeling judged by her opinions, hearing her tell me yet again whether she thought I was doing the right thing in life.

I realised it was up to me to break the pattern. My man was about to meet her for the first time, and he had asked me to tell my mother something about our relationship that would involve me revealing something very private about my sexuality. He asked me to do so because he knew it would be a challenge for me to be so open and honest with her, to bear my soul to her, and to do so without accepting judgment from her. And when I told her she was so uncomfortable that she said almost nothing. But she pulled one of those faces. Disgust, disappointment, worse than anger.

When I looked at her and watched for her reaction, I realised I was standing in front of her being myself, bearing my secrets, and standing very centered as I did so. I realised I was entirely unaffected by her reaction. It was the first time I didn't care, in the most caring way possible.

Later, when I told her of my plans to move to Canada to be with my man in a couple of years, she tried to tell me I make decision in my life based on the men in my life rather than my career, and that she was "concerned". What she meant was "it's wrong". I simply said "you know what? This is me, this is who I am at age 35. I am not a child, I am not vulnerable in this world and needing your protection. I know you say these things because you care, but I want you to see me as a woman, capable of considering consequences in my life. I choose my path, I choose what is right for me, and it may not fit with what you think is right for me, but I am asking you to let go and trust me to walk my own path".

She was hurt and felt rejected, said she felt her opinions don't matter. We still bumped against each other in a couple of conversations, but I noticed something incredible when she met my man. She had so much respect for him, for who he is, and she said "he certainly knows what he wants in life" with a great deal of admiration. The very thing I was asking her to respect in me, her daughter, she had respect for in this man.

I had to wonder whether gender has something to do with it. Although my mother is proud of my achievements and supports my career ambitions, she still has somewhere imbedded deep inside a notion that men SHOULD be strong, independent and driven. Her sons are failing in this respect in her eyes because they are not particularly career-driven. Also not free to just be themselves. Whereas her daughter should find a man who is clear he knows what he wants in life!!

Throughout our time together I could tell my mother felt rejected by me, cut off in some way. In some way she was right. I was cutting myself free of her, but not rejecting her. When we parted, and she knew it would be a couple more years before we saw each other, she was sadder than any other time we have said goodbye. Except the first time when I left home. She knew there was a real separation happening, and I felt sad too. I hugged her close to me, unafraid of what her love would do to me, unlike my familiar habit of keeping her smothering love at a distance. We both sobbed. And I said to her "it's ok to let go, I am still here and always will be".

I waved her goodbye on the ferry, she stood next to my step-father looking bewildered, and I had an overwhelming compassion for her for the first time in a long, long time. I realised I was sad because I was letting go too. I had to tell myself what I told her. It's ok to let go. She will still be there.

I cried and cried and cried like a child after she was gone. It was separation the way a child feels it from her mother when she is little. That yearning for mother and at the same time the freeing sense of separation from her (over)protective arms. Standing on my own I felt truly alone. Not lonely. Just alone. I had cut myself free, I had taken the emotional step of separation. I had made it clear her opinions and her judgment, which were an expression of her wanting to protect me, were not what I needed. I guess as a mother that might have made her feel at a loss. If I don't need her protection, what do I need from her?

Six months later we spoke after a very painful argument we had in which she felt utterly rejected. I had written her a long letter, which took me three nights of crying to get onto paper. I had very carefully tried to explain the entire process of individuation I have been consciously forging in the past few years, and why it was that I needed to separate from her emotionally.

And I told her that in fact I believe a new closesness is possible because of it. Only by freeing myself of the smothering love could I step back and see her as a whole individual as well, with her own history of pain and joy an growth, with her own attempts to fulfill who she is. And a mother who gave everything she could and did the best she could. No matter what my own judgments are about how she loves.

When we spoke on the phone, she started to tell me about events in her own past which had led her to decide she needed to protect her children, give them everything she could, and ensure that they did not make horrible mistakes in life. I felt my heart open to her, as I could see her as she was as a young mother, from my adult perspective. And I thanked for everything she had given us, everything she did for us. And I told her I used to blame her and no longer do. And I also told her, this separation is healthy and I need you not to try to protect me anymore. I need you to embrace me as your adult daughter, a product of the gifts you have given me, but also of my own life experiences.

And you are still my mother. You are still someone I want to share events in my life with. There is a new relationship possible between us. And we both cried, feeling a release, a freshness, a fear of the newness, a sadness of letting go of the old, and a pureness as well.

James Hollis wrote that an authentic relationship is only possible when there is separation. Two individuals connected, rather than fused. The pain of separation is necessary in order to love in an unattached and healthy way.

I now feel that I can trust her when I have children of my own to be involved as a grandmother whose wisdom I will ask for, and with whom I can also draw a line when my own path of mothering diverges from hers.

I also hope I can trust myself to separate from my children for their own good.

Does having children make you happy?

After a discussion with my goddess-in-training sparring partner and housemate about the dream of being parents and the impact children would have on our lifestyles, she sent me a Newsweek article which declares it is a fallacy that having children will make us happier. It's not the first time I've come across this scientific conclusion - many studies have shown that parents tend to measure their happiness and life satisfaction lower than non-parents. But I do wonder about the premise of these studies.

I found an interesting take on it in this article on The Psychologist webpage, which asserts that it has more to do with our focus than our actual level of happiness. Parents tend to spend lots of time worrying about their children and this is what shows up when studies are done. When we think about a rosey future - be it a life-long relationship, being a parent, living in the Bahamas, getting the particular job we really want - we tend to focus on the positive aspects of that future possibility. Of course we don't focus on what's going to be difficult about it or how much work it's going to take. And when reality hits, we focus on the difficult things more than the positive.

It's like when I think about my current work. I have a dream job where I am surrounded by relaxed, supportive, friendly colleagues, with very little power struggle or hierarchical frustrations, where I am paid a decent salary to learn every day, do research and teach. Yet there are plenty of aspects of my work I find a challenge, or frustrating. Right now as I write this blog I am avoiding the preparation that the next subject I am to teach requires, because it is less inspiring than thinking about being a mother and everything that entails! But does that mean I am unhappy at my work? By no means! I can focus on the positive or the negative aspects and the net result will change depending on that. Meanwhile it is a part of a longer career path and overall I am very fulfilled, partly due to the very challenges and opportunitites to learn and grow.

Just as I imagine being a mother will have its ups and downs, and periods of a lot of hard work, yet it is part of something bigger. The biological and emotional call to be a mother has little to do with instant gratification or daily bliss and more to do with fulfilling something human, a call to another phase of adulthood, to a contribution to life and the world around me.

And that is not to say we should all sense and follow a biological or emotional call to be parents. Not everyone wants children. Also, I often have these kinds of conversations with women around me who feel that being a mother will mean sacrificing the full extent of their career. This of course depends on many factors including social infrastructure and flexibility in the workplace, as well as culture (see my post on why there are so few women in higher academic positions). But if it'a question of "what will make me happier - my career or being a mother?" I say the assumption is all wrong that we should be doing things based on a drive for some kind of intangible measure of happiness.

Surely being a parent is not about weighing up the hard work against the moments of reward. I would say the questions being asked in such studies are a bit skewed. Of course no-one enjoys the tasks associated with childcare. But can that be measured against the moments of insight into innocence? Or into how humans grow and develop from crawling, drooling dependent creatures to creative, independent, thinking beings? Or the moments of seeing life continue through you? Or the moments of pride, joy, self reflection, fulfilment? Or the moments as grandparents where it call gets repeated again?

Without the experience (yet) of being a parent perhaps I speak with a bit of a utopian perspective, but at least it's not one based on the disillusion that I will by definition be "happier" as a mother than if I don't have children. It's one inspired by a dream I had of sitting on the grass with my pregnant belly, watching my other young child play in the garden, my man sitting behind me with his legs either side of me and his big chest behind my back. Something essentially human and undeniably fulfilling was coarsing through me. That dream may or may not come true, but it is something that calls me just as much as my career aspirations do and my creative outlets do and the yearning I have to share my life with a partner who is my equal. Will I be happy or happier? I don't know. Will I be fulfilled at a deeper level? I believe so.

(PS - I'd be curious to see comments from anyone who is a parent!)

Why I love Wonder Woman

Anyone who knows me knows of my almost obsessive fascination with the pop culture icon Wonder Woman. She is less well known in a lot of European countries, but in the Anglo-American world she is on equal par with Catwoman, Supergirl, Superman and Batman. In fact she is a member of the Justice League and stands together with Batman and Superman as one of the lead characters.

But why this fascination? For the very fact that she is one of the few female heroes who actually offers something inspiring beyond skin-tight, revealing super outfits and impossible proportions. And for everything she stands for.

Wonder Woman was created by the psychologist William Moulton Marston in the 1940's. he had written a series of articles on the importance of (super) heroes as role models and the role of pop culture in this positive modelling. DC Comics approached him to create a character and he rightly pointed out they had NO female heroes. So he dreamed up Wonder Woman, an Amazon Princess whose job it was to teach humanity, then in the throes of World War II, about justice, peace and truth.

The back-story of this character is full of symbolism and heavily influenced by Greek mythology. On the island of Themniscyra, hidden in the Bermuda Triangle, a community of Amazon warrior women lives in a paradise of peace and immortality. Their task is to guard over Pandora's Box, and if any man's blood is shed on their island then the Box will release all manner of darkness into the world. (Read: Women as protectors, the mother energy, guarding the dark side of humanity.)

The Queen, Hyppolita, misses only one thing - a daughter. Living in a paradise of only women has it's downfalls, there is no male company to balance things out. Instead she prays to the gods and moulds a child out of the clay of the earth, and the gods bestow life upon this girl who is literally of the earth. (Read: Women as mothers, as creators, the earth as the ultimate life-giver, intutitive connection to the gods.)

They then bestow gifts of beauty, strength and wisdom upon her - so no weird chemical reactions or spider bites, but heavenly powers giving her a goddess-like status. When she comes of age she wins a contest to donne the crown of Wonder Woman and go off to "man's world" to teach the justice and peace oriented ways of the Amazons. (Read: Self sacrifice and leadership, seeking balance in conflict, offering feminine wisdom to the masculine fighting spirit.) She embodies what is often seen as an essentially feminine purpose - the healing of the world.

She carries a lasso of truth, which forces those whom she ensares to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Masterton is credited with having also invented the lie detector, so his fascination with truth-telling came through in his comic book character. Not only that, but his poly-amourous relationships and his study (and his practice!) of bondage and BDSM, and the dynamics of power and gender in this form of sexual expression, are reflected in WW's costume (the slave bracelets, the lasso) and the regularity with which she is tied up, bound, locked down and has to escape.

Despite the fact she was a product of the World War II years, she is shown breaking these bonds and chains with the regularity and deftness of a modern feminist (no-one is ever to blame, she simply busts out of the shackles and continues her message of equality and peace). She embodies the wisdom and strength of a mature elder, the independence of a woman who knows she doesn't need to play any certain role in life to be fulfilled, and yet the perfect complexity and emotional paradox that many women express - searching for what fulfills her heart she is unafraid to cry and show her vulnerable side in between fighting the Nazi axis or her more fantastic nemeses. She has the female warrior power as well as the softer, flowing feminity, a wholeness so many of us desire.

It's interesting then that she "lost" her powers when the "New Wonder Woman" series emerged in the 1960's. Suddenly she was just a sex symbol and she lost track of the very things which she stands for as a role model. A reflection of the shifts in political thought at the time.










Thankfully, with some strange twists in continuity, she was given her powers again in the 1970's (perhaps again due to shifts in sexual politics?), and the camp TV series with Lynda Carter gave her a new place in pop culture.

Whether the TV series was true to her deeper symbolic side remains highly questionable, but the fact that she was sky-rocketed to the forefront of the imagination of boys, girls, men and women alike says something about how right Masterton was all along that we need heroes and positive role models.

 And preferably something more than the latex-clad Catwoman who emodies the seductive, "dangerous" myth of women's sexuality, and something beyond the submissive, diminiutive role played by Supergirl.

 We need a complex, multi-faceted, mature woman, a Wonder Woman to inspire us. Her strengths and weaknesses, her beauty as well as her wisdom, her mothering nature as well as her her warrior energy, and her kick-arse sexuality, these are all the reasons I love Wonder Woman and proudly wear her symbol on my wrist!

Any woman with any inkling of these characteristics in herself is a Wonder Woman.

The dating game

My sister goddess in training, who is American, is familiar with the "dating game". I am convinced it's a cultural thing. I'm Australian and we don't really date. We meet up for drinks or go out to dinner, but we're pretty quick to decide if it's going somewhere or not, or if we just want a casual fling. There's not a lot of the giggly "what's it mean and should I call him or should I wait for him to text me and how flirtatious should I be???" I mean, we did some of that as teenagers, discovering what the game was about, but there doesn't seem to be the same extended etiquette and rules of the game as there seem to be among my American friends.

And the Dutch certianly don't date! They spend time together in groups and if you like someone enough you basically end up kissing and/or going to bed with them. And if a relationship develops it's usually with the proviso that they're just seeing each other, but even after half a year there's no way they would refer to each other as girlfriend, boyfriend, partner, whatever. It's just someone they're seeing. And who makes them giddy with happiness. But nothing serious.

And then if they move in together they will inevitably both keep their own apartments as a safety net, a back door option should things get too serious or not serious enough. It will be years before they give up their ticket to singledom.

And so when I was asked out for drinks by an American the other day I was flattered, and ensured he had my number, and hoped he would contact me, but when he did I found myself entering a new world. The dating game! I had to ask my American goddess in training how to go about this - we have only had sms contact and I have been cautious about sending texts which are too flirtatious. But I find myself wanting to send funny responses to his playful remarks. And should I rspond straight away or leave it a few hours or a day? And is he doing the same thing - deliberately waiting a day to respond? Or is he just busy at work?

And why am I even asking these questions? It seems so adolescent to me. I am entering a phase of life that is all about delving in to the shadow, discovering what lies beneath, waking the goddess who sleeps within, going to places which are emotionally and spiritually unfamilair territory in order to grow and fulfil who I am. It is a delicate and profound journey. Is this a time in which to play the dating game? Is it not a time to be focused on the inner woman and just reject sexual attention all together?

My sister goddess in training suggested this is another opportunity to give up knowing and get out of my head. I don't have to know that this person is NOT the one I will have something meaningful and special with. I don't have to know this is not the time. I don't have to know what it is to be in the presence of others who are attractive and attracted to me. I can explore, be vulnerable, discover some new territory. And maybe even just have some fun.

It feels so strange. I thought my journey of being vulnerable was only to be in sacred areas of my life. Going out for drinks and laughing and flirting and maybe even "making out", as she suggested, feels like it's superficial and not sacred and not a place to be vulnerable. But she also suggested it's like a playing field. What is it to be vulnerable in different contexts?

And then another thing comes up - what about mixing my professional world with my personal? Having had the revelation that I can be an Amazon warrior in the world of my career and the world of international law, and then take off my armour and lay down my sword as I enter my home space when I can be the nurturing, gentle women within, and be vulnerable and alllow myself to be taken care of, it seems dangerous to mix the two. This "date" (if that's what it is!!) is with a man I met through a professional contact, and is working on a project I would love to be involved in professionally. It's an important new networking arena and a potential to move my expertise into the practitioners world. Should I expose my personal self and my vulnerable self to a person who works in the world I want to be a warrior in?

I think my sister goddess in training is right. If nothing else this is a time to get out of my head, let go of analysing, let go of needing to know, come back to my intution and even there, let go of looking for answers. That's what being vulnerable is about too...being vulnerable towards myself and just embarking on the journey.

So should I text him or not...? ;-)

How does a lobster grow?

An email I received from a friend after sharing with him how it occurs to me to be vulnerable...

How does a Lobster Grow?

When it is time for a lobster to grow, the lobster comes out of its hiding place and sits on the ocean floor.

There it slowly sheds its current shell; marine biologists agree that they think this is an uncomfortable process for the lobster.

Then without it’s shell it sits there, exposed and vulnerable, and then drinks lots of water and the water literally expands the lobster and it grows right there and then.

Over the course of a few minutes, the salt water hardens the mucus membrane and a new shell is formed.

The lobster is bigger and stronger and ready for the next phase of its life.

When it is time to grow you have to shed your defenses, be vulnerable and take on board love and contribution – this is how lobsters grow and how humans grow too.

Vulnerability

There are many things right now in my life which, if I am to shift them, require me to give up "knowing" what is possible and what is not possible. How the hell do I know what the future holds? How could I possibly know what is possible financially, or in terms of love, or whether I will have children?

And it goes further - if my sister goddess in training tells me a story or relates what is going on for her, I find I am often giving advice, or telling her how things are. She finds this frustrating, patronising, she feels analysed. She just wants to be.

And my husband partner of 5 years, from whom I am now unbound but with whom I will always be connected, continued to find it difficult that he felt I was telling him what to do, or telling him how things are, or explaining to him how things work - and he is 11 years my senior. Whenever I came from knowing better, he would be repelled.

So this morning, speaking to another sister of discovery, I started to dig at what that is, why I feel it necessary to be in control, to know, to be right, and incredibly uncomfortable with receiving contribution or advice from others. It's like I have this pretence that I AM in control, that I DO know better, and underneath I'm just scared that one day they will all find out I'm a fraud, I'm really not very intelligent at all, I'm just not very special, I'm mediocre, I'm nothing. And all the while this pretense has me be in a state of tension, in my head, analysing, unable to feel the depths of my own emotions or to truly empathise with others' emotions. And people around me feel controlled, patronised, unable to be themselves, unheard, disconnected.

It made me unhappy to register all of this - not like there's anything wrong, just that this is such a habitual way of being for me, and I am repelled by it myself. And it takes something big to shift it. These are my foundations shaking. Again.

So I created the possibility of being vulnerable and being trusting. Trusting that there is a bigger picture, a grander plan, it's in the hands of the goddess and she will always look after me, I will always be taken care of.

And vulnerable??? That's such an uncomfortable way of being. It brought me to tears and I was shaking gently on the inside. My sister in discovery suggested I just play with it, enquire into what it is. So I looked up "vulnerability" and this came up:

1. capable of being physically or emotionally wounded or hurt

2. open to temptation, persuasion, censure, etc.

3. liable or exposed to disease, disaster, etc.

4. (Military) Military liable or exposed to attack

Ugh. Ouch. Erch. Why would I want to be open and capable of being hurt or wounded, exposed to attack? That doesn't feel safe. That's why I built the armour of defence of always knowing (or at least pretending to) and being right.

Which is where the trusting comes in. Yes I am capable of being hurt or wounded - I am human, even as I look for the goddess within. And yes it is painful. But without that openness, the beauty of love can't flow in either. And pain itself is not all bad, it's what we learn from. Pure, unadulterated pain which washes through the wounds of time, that is enriching because it means being alive. Shutting off from that means being mute, dead, unattached from the life force.

When my husband and I parted ways last year, we were both being truly vulnerable. We both dared to speak out our heart's desires, our fears, what we needed and wanted, where we saw our paths going. And it hurt like hell. But it was all done with absolute respect and the greatest, most generous and loving listening. Unconditional love. It hurt like a pure, enriching pain and I felt I could look up into the stars and feel their presence in my body, because I was connected to the entire universe as I was being given the privelge of learning about unconditional love. It is within me now, it is a part of who I am, and it not to be taken for granted, it is something to keep practicing.

And along the way I may not get what I want from a paritcular person or situation, and that may hurt again, but being open to it, not resisting it, being vulnerable and trusting, that is what will speed me along my path. Unstuck. Pure. Raw and feeling.

Of course it is uncomfortable. It is more of tolerating discomfort for growth. Better that than living a life half dead, detached, alone, frustrated, patronising and controlling others and not moving forward.

So I trust you, universe, to take care of me and to always give me exactly what it is I need, no matter how it looks or feels, and I promise to do my utmost to be open to it all, all of it, vulnerable and capable of being hurt. And capable of being loved and loving unconditionally. And capable of accepting miracles.

Knowing and not knowing

I showed something to my sister goddess in training, proud of what I had seen and discovered and how I could articulate it...

and her response was "I think you can be more vulnerable. Try not to come from knowing."

I KNOW that's my greatest challenge, to come from un-knowing - ha ha.
The problem is I don't know what it is to come from un-knowing - ha ha.

What is it not to know, not to have to be in control, not to protect my ego with knowing nods of agreement and insightful responses? What is it to risk coming across as naive, or to really speak from my heart and risk being hurt? What is it to unleash all of that passion to someone else who can choose to receive it or not? What is it to yield, surrender, completely, discover from the soul instead of the mind?

And the irony is, I will never know, because that would be knowing again.

What It Takes

I spoke to an elder today who said the following to me:

"It takes great courage to become a goddess. It takes a willingness to delve. You have to be willing to take on the storm of conflict. It takes an ability to fight to the death, fight with all your anger. And it takes the ability to love with all your passion. It takes a lot of growing up. It's a long and challenging journey that asks for every bit of you."

It occured to me that I can speak of being a goddess, and I think it's a matter of coming to my true nature, but really the journey is only just beginning.

I'm inspired by James Hollis' book "The Middle Passage" about moving into the second adulthood. Our first adulthood is the move from adolescence to independence and fulfilling certain roles - parenthood, career, what kind of friend, partner, leader, follower we are, how we are as "adult" children to our parents. But this is a learned self. Somewhere along the line the true, inner self begins to rise up and often clashes with the learned self. Many people experience this as a crisis, and they do all sorts of crazy things or go into depression, because their whole identity is being challenged.

But if you embrace this time as an opportunity for self knowledge and growth, then it is a passage into the second adulthood. A time for the inner self to come to the surface, and to re-identify: who am I beyond the roles I have played in life thus far?

Hollis writes that the effects of this shift are felt in the 30's and the ripples of it can be felt back into the late 20's. At 28, my Saturn Return, I felt some ripples. I was becoming aware of how little I actually understand of my true nature, of how much I rely on male affirmation for my sense of self worth, of how my boundless, creative energy can be channeled into things so much more powerful and positive and intimate than I had seen before. The value of my friends grew, my ability to speak my heart increased.

On my 28th birthday I sat with two wonderful women and we were all crying out a pain we didn't understand. We held each other and decided to make a ceremony. I removed several of my piercings and cut off the one dreadlock I had kept growing since I was 21. I started by ripping it out, thinking change is painful. And then my two witch friends Irina and Bexi suggested that change needn't be painful and dramatic, it can be peaceful and complete. So I took some scissors and cut it off. Snip. Cut off a tie with a past self just like that. And was astounded how easy it was.

And then we took the dread and some pieces of paper on which we had written down things we wanted to let go of, and we burned them. There were blue sparks and a horrible stench. And we stood laughing out loud. And a mirror cracked and people around us commented for days on things that had happened that night and how eery it was and we were convinced we had unleashed our witching power and vowed to learn more about it so we were owners of it and could be responsible for it. But I think we only dipped our toes in and were a bit afraid to delve deeper.

Two years later I finally received my two Dutch law degrees in an important ceremony, got married in another important ceremony, and turned 30, which was somehow an age I had been yearning to become. Three rites of passage into new roles, new stages of adulthood, and they all happened within 2 weeks of each other. I remember being exhausted and looking at myself in the mirror with curiosity. Kind of like I did when I woke up on my 7th birthday and ran to mum's full length mirror to see if I looked older. I was so disappointed that nothing had changed - I was convinced I would see the difference, but I looked like just the same girl who had gone to bed the night before, aged 6. This time, aged 30, I could see something in my face in the mirror was different from 2 weeks previous. But it was coming from the inside. It was like seeing how young I actually am rather than looking to see if I was older.

And now, at 33, something else significant is happening. Last year I was given the privileged opportunity to experience the exquisite beauty of unconditional love through the process of letting go with my husband Alan, and our un-binding ceremony. Now the universe has decided it is time for me to take on every level of my conscious and unconscious self in every aspect of my life - career, identity, sexuality, love, romance, finances, communication, shadows, motherhood, womanhood, emotions, spirituality. I've been finding it overwhelming, but I was stopped in my tracks on my way home in the snow one night and told to breathe deeply, watch my cold breath in the air, and listen.

It's all going to be ok. You are able to take it all on, otherwise I wouldn't have sent it all your way. It's going to shake your foundations a bit, but you will grow and grow and grow ...

And then you will be ready for the man you are to be with and the child you are to mother and the contribution you are to be in international law.

But until you have undergone this transformation, you are not ready.

So I guess when the elder I spoke to used such powerful words about what it takes to be a goddess, I was inspired, humbled and felt opened up, challenged, invited, warned and reassured.

Bring it on, universe. Bring on the fire and brimstone and the earthquakes and the floods - but I am scared, too, so please keep reminding me of the fresh oases and the stunning beauty and the deep love and the exquisite light along the way. I am willing to go on this journey within and discover where the goddess sleeps and to waken her gently with everything I will have learned along the way. Show me how.