I calmly waved a hand at my friend to keep him from raising his voice too much, people were beginning to look, and with each punched ‘HE’, my face was beginning resemble a half eaten omelet. I picked up my napkin and collectively dabbed my face of the egg bits and coaxed the back of his clenched hand. “Murphy,” I finally broke after listening to his 50 minute looped tirade, “Maybe this guy…”
I choked, and remembered my own experiences from what then seemed to be insufferable men, and how I made myself, every time, out to be the victim. And how I subjected my priestess and priest to the very same dementia Murphy was now parading. I gasped at how uncanny the situation was to mine, he crying and I listening very intently, keeping quiet and steady like a lioness as she watches her hunt. It took every breath in my body to keep from pouncing, ‘SHUTUP!,’ I wanted to roar, ‘...Eat your omelet, Murphy Lohr, and get over it. You are better than him, and you are better than this…now lets eat some cinnamon toast for god’s sake!,’ But I kept cool. Terra Incognita had done that for me, taught me the art of listening with love.
I began again by choosing my words carefully, this time, letting the power of the goddess flow through me. “Let this man be, Murphy. You two shared a wonderful experience. Unfortunately, that experience turned into something you didn’t want. Now’s the time to let it go and move forward. Something else, I’m sure, is waiting for you.”
Murphy perked up, confused. He inhaled the last bits of his food and gulped down what seemed to be gallons of water. A substantial period of silence passed. He wasn’t used to hearing that, it was too alien…too…neutral. But I wanted Murphy to know that he had been mistreated, and that his reaction was justified. ‘It’s one thing to be a passive listener, and then another to be empathetic.,’ I silently reasoned. I caught his reflective gaze and added, “This man did violate you because he wasn’t being fully honest with his intentions, but it is crucial that you don’t make yourself out to be the victim. Don’t let this experience hinder you from finding love. See it as an opportunity, a pivot point to something greater in your life.”
I saw my words flowing through his thoughts, like a soft ripple. It quickly shattered to desperation and his expression hardened, becoming rigid and stiff. I knew from the second he turned from self-reflection to a fort-like defense because I am the queen of defenses, but through tactical conscious effort, the help of my Temple, and dabbling in the realm of Qadishtu, I have learned to become a gracious observer of myself and others, and when asked to, create a space for healing and mentoring…well, sort of. I am still in the processes of being mentored, but as a student I have found that I learn more by assuming the role of teacher.
In his current drama, Murphy was used to hearing curses from his friends, “Fuck him!,” or, “What an asshole!,” to, “Don’t worry, he’ll call you!...Don’t worry, he pines for you! Don’t worry…don’t…don’t do… What a Whore! What a Slut! Dick!” However, I fed him something different, something that he couldn’t seem to swallow easily at first. It was Qadishtu. And through careful, honest intent, I succumbed to Qadishtu and gave Murphy the vehicle to something more freeing and nurturing. I wanted him to access his divine self…
He took in one more forceful gulp of his water. “You know,” he stammered, “the thought of letting him go…just fucking go, is so….I don’t know… it makes sense.”
I concurred, “And you are no longer stuck in all the drama of being pissed at him.”
“Which consumes all your energy and turns you into something unpleasant...”
“And there’s no chance of accessing or finding love when you are like that.”
“Yeah!,” Murphy reassured himself, “He did what he did, and I have no control over that.”
“Right,” I reinforced.
“It had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t my fault.”
“Uh-huh. And now, you are free to just be and love.”
He paused, then blinked. “Why is that so hard to come by? Why can’t everyone just realize that’s how simple these things are? Just coming back to that?”
I asked that question my whole life, but surprisingly, through this conversation I had been jolted with an inspired thought, “Because its supposed to be this way,” I looked at him, eager to share my thoughts, “Its supposed to be a process. We learn a lot about ourselves and others when we do that.”
“You mean, self-inflection. Like, I shouldn’t hate this guy, or blame myself for what happened. It happened, and that’s it… Next!” he playfully snapped his fingers then chuckled.
“Yeah…and for me, and I think you too, it’s the challenge of learning to accept things for what they are, even if they aren’t what we want them to be.”
We sat there and smiled at each other. ‘What an idiot I can be,’ I read in his expression. Good. He went from inconsolable to self-deprecating and high-spirited; I felt resolved and pleased.
I sighed, cradled my head in my hands and eventually let them tangle through my hair, “Its okay, we are all challenged. That’s why revelations like these are so necessary.”