Mad Woman - my story

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In their welcoming comments to me as a "newbie in the 'hood", some have offered invitations to share a bit more about my recent life journey – on my way through the Transformation Course, and in to the portal here. So “gather round” in the GatheringSpot. Thank you to those who have invited me to continue, who have helped me feel safe enough to share some more. There's magic in telling a story. Gather ‘round. 

I’m in my fancy new luxury car, stopped at a traffic light at Franklin and Geary Streets in San Francisco – 18 years ago.  I’ve just come in to some wealth (another story), and I’m getting used to a very comfortable lifestyle. There’s that rattling sound of a shopping cart rolling on pavement, muffled by city traffic noises and my well-insulated car. I see a bent, shabby old woman pushing her cart across the intersection in front of me. My gut says “oh god, I hope that will never be me”; my head says, “How can that be? What is the story that gets somebody like her in a situation like this?” My heart may have had some compassion going on in the moment, but that wasn’t the loudest sound.

I drive around the block, park the car, and walk over to a short cement wall in front of a church on the corner. I approach the woman gently, and invite her to sit there on the wall with me. It’s a perfect perch for us, with her cart nearby, and the rush of the afternoon commute in the background. I’m feeling a little awkward, but the woman makes eye contact and we sit down. Her eyes aren’t entirely vacant – but it’s like the light of her Soul is really dim.

“I noticed you as you passed by,” I say. “I’m sorry; it looks like things must be really tough for you.” That’s all it takes for her to begin her story. Her stooped body, thickly layered with clothing, is more animated now. Her eyes are more alive with a dull rage, and she speaks of her husband who kicked her out of their home and left her penniless. I want to help her, but I don’t want to get fully engaged with her story. That was enough. Her story is pitiful, and the energy feels sucky. It feels really disturbing – like I might get pulled in and miserably lost. I have $13 in my pocket. I hand it to her and say, “it’s your lucky day!” Kinda glib, but all I want to do is get outta there, drive away in my luxury car, and wash off that sticky energy.

That encounter stuck with me. Sort of haunted me. So I worked with it, looking for the whispers from the Unseen, looking for the reflections that would be my teachers. Through the years, I came to understand the “Mad Woman” archetype as a passion-stealer. As I’ve experienced the archetypes, they are energy patterns from beyond space/time that express in us, and in our world. They are “formless forms”, fundamental to the shape of consciousness in our current reality. And over time I’ve come to acknowledge and forgive the dark forms of the “Mad Woman” in me. The Mad Woman desperately seeks love, begins to smother it, and ultimately destroys it in martyred, rageful ways.

My story of a happy marriage and family life, with abundant wealth 18 years ago, did become like the story of the mad woman on Geary Street. As my story unfolded and devolved, in deep despair 2 years ago, I faced this woman in meditation, and acknowledged that she was a “future self” I had encountered on the street that day. I saw her in current time, near death, riddled with disease and filth, and completely insane with hopelessness, because she was convinced she was unloved. I knew my meditative work was a healing journey, to acknowledge, forgive, and change my life and way of being. As I cringed, holding this woman’s body in meditation, I began to feel the true compassion for her, born of deep sorrow for the losses, sorrow for destroying love, sorrow for being so far away from Home. As she died in my arms, I told her she is loved, she is forgiven, and I asked her to forgive me for turning away from her. I asked her to come Home with me now, because I’m making different choices about how to be with love. I told her I need the “wildness” in her – the “chutzpah” to live life out loud the way she did. The courage to let love grow and change as it will, to not control it. To let love free.

There are other chapters in the story that got me here - but this one had voice today. I'm grateful to be telling it in a safe peaceful home, as the sparrows and finches sing from the redwood trees. Thank you to those who provide the generous listening here.

Blessings on your journey Home.