The eagle 🦅 and her ego🐓.

Sunday, 20th May 2018

Living life with no aim, no ultimate goal, regardless of the circumstances through which I had to grow. Somehow, I managed to soar in places deemed bright and beautiful by the world, careful with intermittent wisdom. In those moments, the eagle and the ego danced in indifference. There was an air of knowing what each day would hold, wrapped in the illusion of safety. Yet, the eagle stirred, and the earthquakes of my heart insisted on another view, another story, where the eagle and the ego clashed, unable to coexist. After all, the ego is merely an illusion of safety now.

We were not taught to think big, nor to believe that dreams truly come true. Soon enough, we realized that what we witnessed around us was the toughness of life, and if we could just imitate those around us who had more materially, then perhaps we might rise a little higher and be the shining star. Those were my groundings, just get by. You can't reach as high as your dreams; they are unrealistic. Dreams come true only in fairy tales or for special people, and nothing about me felt special. We learned to fabricate excuses for our shortcomings, or better yet, blame others, finding comfort in disliking those who reminded us of our failures. My ego flourished with an underdeveloped mind, reflecting a slice of the world's population. Is this enough? Am I destined to live with this program I unintentionally embraced then, and now intentionally wrestle with? I chose to think differently.

Inside me, the eagle often stirred with questions, suggesting I indulge in fleeting distractions to fill the shifting void within. Shopping, drinking, dancing, hunting down anxiety, pretending to be what I had planned to be as my ego rehearsed my being. Life was noisy, with nary a moment’s peace, drowning in justifications, judgments, faults, blame, moaning, and droning on with misery as my default response. I flicker towards my mother at the thought of this behavior, my ego replaying scenes in my memory, and I see that I was my mother after all. Yet, I understand; she was not taught either and could only give what she had. And what she had, she lovingly passed on to me in the only way she knew.

I attempted to create, stilling my mind to open wide for ideas to pour through me. I delved deeper, only to fall, and before I knew it, the ego defended with spontaneous stimulation of the snooze button. I fell asleep reluctantly when I should have been meditating, yet even in sleep, the eagle sought release, awakening me often with a sense of defeat. I watched my reactions unfold, feeling the deceptive twisting of this dictator called my mind. But I grew to love this new awareness that dared to break free from conformity, walking gracefully, easily, and confidently into my dreams.

Birth of the Eagle

In the stillness and darkness of a chaotic world, I emerged into this floppy, wet, tiny body of matter, inhaling the powerful essence of my being that seemed to span the hospital walls. My awareness was pure and intriguing. "It’s a girl!" the nurse declared. My little heart brimmed with Unconditional Love, while my mind was a squeaky clean sponge, ready to absorb the excitement this new world had to offer. Yet I felt heavy and floppy, struggling for control over these limbs. "What am I to do with this?" I wondered, shocked by the sudden change. “Oh no, send me back!” I screamed into the world, resisting what was. But quickly, I learned to surrender to life as it is. My mother cradled the baby she had brought into the world, and here I was, carrying an everlasting seed of love in my heart, expressing my desires through wailing cries for comfort.

I was confident then, with an openness of expression, unbound by limitations in my mind or desires. How magical life felt in those early days! I cried, and my needs were met; I cooed and smiled, receiving love and admiration. My currency of exchange was Being and learning. "Okay, this is getting better. Maybe I’ll hang out here for a while longer. This life is perfect, just as I expected and hoped it would be."

Free Spirited

In the innocent desire for what I wanted, I yearned to explore and experience, to learn this new expression of self as a young human child. But as I attempted to fly, the rules of limitation became uncomfortable, constraining my wings designed for soaring. "In a box?! Why am I boxed in?" I protested. "No! There is more to do; I don’t have time for this. Release me! Stimulate me! Teach me the way of freedom, joy, fun, and peace! Teach me to fly as eagles should!"

My delicate mind crumbled under the weight of lies masquerading as protection, reinforced through force. Thus, I came to know fear and pain, pain inflicted by those I trusted for safety, until I conformed to this way of living, until a better way appeared. My wings, ignorant of their grandeur, remained weighted by doubts, concealing the power within them to ascend to the pinnacle of life. I am Lycia.

Spirit Wants to Soar Always

Where is the love I first felt when I emerged into your arms, mother? Was it so short-lived? Did you forget how to love me? How will I remember when my brilliant memories of beauty are replaced by your fears and limitations? This is not my blueprint. Yet I cannot recall it as I drown under an avalanche of doubt and fears in this ever-evolving world. Love felt scarce, my perception in this place growing.

There is a mold inside me that this experience cannot fit. Why am I kept away from joy? Why must I not spread my wings and look at them? Are they not mine? Are they not attached to my being? I have a dream, a recurring dream, that my wings are magical, and if I spread them wide and flap them strongly, I can soar to heights so exquisite and awe-inspiring it takes my breath away. But alas, I suppose that is only in my dreams. Yet, it is my favorite dream, for in it, I am always at peace.

“Set me free to soar! Please let me try! Let me show you what I feel inside and express it with my wings. I know my heart will guide me! I just know it!” Yet all I receive is cautious admonition: “Danger, danger!” The response? The familiar dogma and box-filing nonsense. This must be the love I perceive, so I must be mistaken. Dreams aren’t real; they merely teach, and I am not an eagle, merely a chicken with lanky wings.

Wants to be Actualized

If I am a chicken with lanky wings, how then may I express the best of me? I can't fly, so I must learn to keep my head out of the clouds. My body quakes in panic and anxiety, my heart aches with yearning. My mind wrestles with my Being. I must be more than this! I feel so much that it hurts to be away from the essence of this feeling, longing to break free. I read books about actualization, thoughts making sense only to scratch the surface of the hard shell of my perception.

Almost blinding was my perception if I did not open my eyes to the radiant glimmer of light that seemed miles away and impossibly unreachable. Yet the eagle cries for freedom! I hear conversations filled with *brules and emptiness, and I scream inside, "There must be another way!" I attend seminars and conferences promising liberation or simply offering more rules. Church? Well, I need not recount that experience. As I collect information, placing it on my shelves, the ego feels bright and confident, patting itself on the back for saving the day once more. I sit and dream but feel hopeless of actualizing. The future is dim, but this is my life, to make the most of it or give it back. The fear of non-existence strikes my mind, and I’m back in line, droning along with the millions.

My bible and Jesus intrigue me; I ponder, “Why does Jesus say we can do more than him, yet we suffer and cry?” Here we go again, the exploration of what is possible for me opens a floodgate of ideas. Books, movies, magazines, conferences, seminars, webinars, conversations, and my questions multiply.

“Who am I? What is my purpose? Where is my voice? What am I to do?” The answers stir my wings. A sweetness fills me as the ego races alongside my thoughts and imagination of who I could become. Family, more than friends, call me back to the sanity of weary safety. I laugh and finally see, safety’s an illusion, and it is not my path. My ego ignites the fire of anxiety as my eagle flaps her wings. Oh, how powerful they are! The sensation of joy and springtime radiates through my being. The box is smaller than I remember. My wings grow stronger and more powerful, and the box creaks under my expansion. Something must give!

This fire in my belly, anxiety in my heart, a crowd in my brain, my temper flares. I cannot remain here! I will die! “Die, you say?” asks my ego. Yes, die! In that moment of surrender, the box no longer exists. Could it be? I am now surrounded by trees, open skies, the earth beneath my feet, and the wind in my feathers. The ego tries to hold on, but the eagle laughs uncontrollably and screams out loud and free…

Yes! Yes! Yes!

She takes flight.

As her wings remember the dance of freedom, she soars past the confines of earthbound limitations. No longer bound by fear, she glides effortlessly through the skies, transcending the struggles and lies that once weighed her down. In her newfound liberation, she embraces the vastness of her existence, a symphony of dreams realized, radiating light and vibrancy that transcends the ordinary. The eagle dances among the clouds, soaring beyond the wildest imaginings, existing not merely as a creature but as a magnificent expression of pure spirit. Free to explore the limitless horizons, she embodies the magic of life, a testament to the glorious journey of self-actualization, where dreams are no longer fantasies confined to sleep but vibrant realities unveiled in the brilliance of her soaring flight.

I Am Goddess Thashna🦅