Everyday Truth of a Rainbow Woman

When I was a little girl at my parents’ house on Oak Street, I either woke from my sleep or was already awake. I do not remember which was true. I do remember crying out and my father coming into the room to sit by the side of my bed, comforting me. “I saw a dragon,” I said.

My father calmly said that there was no dragon in the room and stayed with me until I was no longer afraid. Though I felt safe while my father was with me, I knew that I had seen a dragon. Now as an adult, remembering, I have a firm sensation that I saw a dragon. Perhaps the dragon was in my dream; perhaps the dragon was in my waking.

Now that I look back on my life and have recreated a spiritual connection to Kuan Yin, goddess of compassion and mercy, I believe that God sent a dragon to let me know that I would have to ride a dragon in this lifetime. As a little girl, my sensing of the dragon was an important message for me, and I am most grateful. I would have to conquer my fear of the dragon in order to take the ride. The ride of my life. In Reiki teachings, the dragon represents one’s personal power. Perhaps I was (or still am) afraid of my personal power and my true essence.

I have become a hermitess. I want to be my authentic self and have learned the necessity of finding refuge from the ways of the world at least as I gain in strength.

I have created a void and do not know how to fill it. I am seeking a light space, as I am very sensitive.

I believe that my void will be filled when I tell my story, my truth, like my heroines have done. Isabel Allende, Maya Angelou, and Alice Walker. All three of them have taken literal language and transformed words to create wondrous worlds of mystery and magic, realms of the imagination.

Here’s my poem about my she-roes:.

Maya, Isabel, and Alice

My heroes, or she-roes, as Maya would say.

She spoke her truth when it seemed easier to remain silent.

A self-chosen mute

Who broke through her walls of silence

To write her truth so clearly that even a president recognized her wisdom

And courage

And asked her to recite her poem at his inauguration.

She spoke her words with grace and dignity

Before a nation,

Before a world.

One who had been silent

Was heard by all,

One of God’s miracles.

I have been mute.

The time has come for me

To transcend the silence,

To break down my walls

And speak my truth.

Isabel, courageous and flamboyant,

Who went beyond the crossroads of death and political revolution

To write so we could all feel

Her pain,

Her anger,

Her sorrow,

And her transcendence.

I was transcended while reading her words .

To take courageous steps in my own life.

She spoke the truth of a patriarchy.

So I could feel the truth of a patriarchy.

In my own world.

And refuse to submit.

To its tyranny.

Not only for myself.

For my children, .

My husband, .

And the whole world. .

Alice, activist and lover of Mother Earth.

Wrote The Color Purple .

That became a movie.

So that those who did not read.

Could watch.

And be comfortable.

Or uncomfortable, .

Depending on where they sat in life. .

I was uncomfortable.

Because I saw the vivid shade of purple in my own life.

And vowed to transcend and speak. .

My ascension also began with letters to God, .

Frantic letters in an indecipherable scrawl. .

Now I must write my Color Purple.

Or Orange.

Or Green.

Or Red.

So the world knows … .

When I moved to West Virginia twenty years ago, I read articles that this state is the safest in the country. West Virginia does not have a record amount of street crimes—that is for certain. The crimes here are in the homes. The men are abused first by their parents, then by their companies (notorious examples are the railroad and coal-mining companies) and fellow workers. The ball keeps rolling. The men abuse the women, and the last row of victims is the children. Then the pattern starts over again..

Let this generation be the one to stop the hook that keeps the circle in place. .

Let us be the ones. .

My intention is to uncover in words the mystery of this life and the underlying mystery and connectedness of my previous life as Sha Li. My struggles in this lifetime, particularly in the last twenty years, are so subtle that I do not know how I will put them in writing. How can something be subtle and extreme at the same time? So extreme that I am opening to new realms of understanding. So extreme that I am learning to have enough faith to forego fear. So extreme that I am ready to throw chance to the wind and take a leap of faith, changing horses midstream from a rational, logical psychologist with a regular though modest paycheck, guaranteed to pay the mortgage and buy groceries, to that of an artist, a writer, who has yet to publish anything that pays. To trust that enough will be channeled to me to make it all worthwhile. That what I create will be a gift. To me and to others, that they can avoid the pitfalls of my self-created reality.

For many years, I wore a mask. The please-everyone mask. A mask of fear. A mask of self-repression. At that time, that was all I knew to wear. To speak the truth was too painful. Now I must release it all. No matter what. I have lost all concern for public approval. Even approval within my own family is of minor significance. The truth must emerge as a butterfly from its cocoon. For the truth will set us free.