Kali is my favorite goddess.
Yes, I have a favorite goddess.
Yes, she’s a Hindu goddess.
No, I’m not Hindu.
No it’s not disrespectful or sacrilegious that I wear her on a pendant around my neck.
She’s the goddess of destruction.
No, that’s not morbid.
I just acknowledged several judgments I might have had in past versions of Rachel or you might have in the current version of yourself that you’re playing on TV today.
I acknowledged them so I can ask this…
Are you willing to let go of what you think is right or wrong about picking and choosing what inspires or guides you in your life?
Are you willing to let go of the finite dogmas you may or may not have about how things are supposed to go, how you’re supposed to feel or what it is that you’re supposed to be when you grow up?
Are you willing to read this from an open and receptive space?
If not, come back to this another day.
If yes, great!
It’s time to get clear.
So this is Kali:
Look at her!
Weilding a sword, human heads hanging from her waist, a freshly beheaded dripping in one of her 8 arms (which she clearly needs to be this bas ass and diabolical). There’s fire in another hand, blood, snakes, skulls…a war in the background and this regal glowing light of a crown upon her head as she, in her blue-toned greatness DESTROYS some stuff.
Stop it…You’re misunderstanding.
She’s beautiful because she’s the voice of reason. She’s a comic relief for all the crazy stories and evidence we put in front of ourselves that keep us from being content, fulfilled and happy, from being at ease and kind to ourselves, from going for it…the things that keep us from CREATING.
It is comic how much we all hold on to the stuff that hurts.
It is comic how we breeze over the accomplishments we have and the milestones we hit just so we can drive home that we aren’t there yet, that someone is angry with us, that we did that one thing that one time that we need to punish and neglect ourselves for for the rest of our lives.
It’s not a big Kali symbol, but it’s one that resonates in me as my own little version of Kali.
Because you have to burn that shit down.
If there is something you are unhappy with. If there is someone who never listens to you, hurts you, can’t see eye to eye with you or brings you down in any way. If you have tried and tried and just can’t ever seem to get it right…
Light it on fire.
Let it go.
It’s holding you back.
It’s breaking your heart.
It’s ruining your life.
No I don’t mean the victimized story you have about yourself that’s ruining your life.
I mean that YOU are ruining your life!
You’re holding on to that little (or big, if you need the drama) story so that you have reason why you can’t, you shouldn’t, or you won’t.
Can’t, Shouldn’t and Won’t are not in the dictionary you use when you’re loving yourself.
They are not supporting that little warrior inside of you who is out to make it happen, is free to be whomever he or she wants and is willing to want to go for it and LIVE LIFE DEEPLY.
I took Kali on as my homegirl when I started into a nasty story I had about men.
I had a story that, no matter how hard I tried, no matter what energy I put out into the world, no matter what it was that I wanted, I had some black smudge on my forehead, some karmic punishment or some unfinished business to resolve for another that had the worst of the worst constantly coming into my space, my bed and my heart.
And it was dramatic.
And it was dangerous.
And it was not pretty.
Not pretty at all.
For about 15 years.
When I finally said “enough” about that story, I saw what was behind it.
Behind that was a story that men needed saving and I was supposed to do it because I was so great and loving and pure (despite all of the trials and tribulations I’d faced).
I was an angel sent here to show men what they were capable of and how bright and beautiful and amazing they truly are, no matter what was showing up in front of me.
I had to be that, or I wouldn’t be being true to myself.
Yeah, um, that is a recipe for a whole lot of pain, abuse, neglect and suffering.
And I had to get that I was doing all of it to myself.
So I took on Kali.
I started killing off old relationships that I hadn’t honored myself in. I did this by lighting black candles, meditating to release these people from the anger and resentment I was holding for them, calling exes up and telling them all about how I’d overcome the version of me I was before and how great I am now.
And then I got that I was pissed.
And that I was doing all of this song and dance because I wouldn’t accept that that old version of me is not the version of me that’s sitting here, typing away right now.
I had to get that each and every one of those scenarios was a moment to moment opportunity for me to say, “Thank you past experience. I’m good to go right now, you don’t need to stick around”.
And Kali brought me through.
I imagined myself wielding a sword and slashing through all the ‘not good enough’, ‘not interesting enough’, ‘not beautiful enough’, and ‘not nice enough’ to get to ME telling MYSELF “I’M NOT WORTH IT.”
I imagined myself burning all the “love” letters and journals and apologies I’d WRITTEN and get real that I’d done it to manipulate and try to win back the favor of people I should have never made it past eye contact with.
I had to get straight with myself that the men I’d chosen to do my little self-hate dance with were the men that hit on anything with a vagina. They were the men that could smell insecure and sad and “needing to be rescued” and flew after it like vultures on a carcass.
And there really isn’t anything wrong with those dudes. They aren’t evil, incarnate. They aren’t sadists. They aren’t even dangerous.
They were the men out there that just weren’t available.
And they were playing along in the game I’d asked them to play.
They showed up for rehearsal in the act of my life where I requested characters like that to give Academy Award winning performance to match mine.
I made the bed. I slept in it…with one too many tall, dark and handsome men that, now, when I think about it, I didn’t even like, let alone love.
And the most important sword to swing and the goriest head to chop off was that one inside me that said I deserved it.
It was just something I wouldn’t let go of.
I was not willing to clear the forest, burn down the house, conquer the country that was my lack of self worth.
Project: Love, Me brought me to Kali.
I needed to play Hindu and recruit her for assistance when I did.
And she’s still around my neck, just in case I feel like going willy nilly and jumping back into that familiar nightmare once again.
Because we do.
We would rather live in our misery than find our joy.
It’s terrible…and it’s true.
We’d rather be with the devil we know, than kill him off and replace him with an angel we just never thought could possibly take his place.
And it’s so inauthentic.
We are a collection of love-filled, love-emitting, love-driven beings running around a planet that we, collectively made. We built a playground sandbox to build and create in and we’d rather go sit in the kitty litter and play with the cat poop.
No we wouldn’t.
We’re just scared.
It’s fear that has us holding on, hoarding, and stacking up evidence.
It’s fear that keeps the movie on play-rewind-replay-rewind-replay.
It’s fear that robs us of what might very well be waiting right there, right outside the door. It may have been there your whole life. It just can’t get in because we have so much clutter that we can’t even wedge the door open to peak out and see.
Call in Kali.
Start getting destructive.
Make a clearing and