Suzan’s Saga
Girl.
Who was the divine child who came home from a day of jumping in and out of the water behind the family houseboat on Lake Austin totally satisfied in every cell of her body? Who felt like a princess every time she stepped out the front door and walked down the winding limestone rock stairs to the street below. Whose eyes popped open every morning at 6:00 a.m. as she made a bee line down the hall to one of the two grand pianos in the living room to dance with the music that happened between the black and white keys and her inner muse.
Teen.
Who was the eager teen who was so intent on being part of the “in” crowd at Ohenry Junior High? Who the boys called “Cleopatra” after she labored an hour each morning coaxing her curly hair to be straight and perfectly coifed. Who read Newsweek magazine from cover to cover every week as she sat under the dryer with her hair rolled in orange juice cans devouring popular culture and politics.
Adolescent.
Who was the wide eyed adolescent who moved with her parents to New York City, who read the New York Times like the bible while Norman Mailer’s “Armies of the Night” echoed through her soul? Who landed in an all girl college prep school in Brooklyn with a bunch of smart Jewish girls. Who wished like hell she was Laura Nyro.
College Student.
Who was this restless coed who dropped acid and went to an English class at UT and noticed the professor was abusive, egoistic and condescending? Who swallowed psilocybin and invited a bunch of guys up for a sex party? Who hung out on a farm in Kyle with topless lesbians and Hari Krishnas? Who dropped out of school, jumped on a bus load of hard rockers from Jersey and rode out to California.
Hippie.
Who was this youth on the loose who fell in love with a guy from Stanford the day she and her girlfriends hitched into Palo Alto? Who back in New York took a Jersey factory job soldering television parts together for money, walked out the back door of her parent’s house, hitched a ride to Grand Central Station and boarded a bus to Springfield, Ill where she hooked up with the guy from Stanford. Who lived on the road with that poet from Stanford whose jeans had patches all over them, hitching from here to there, and then from there to here. Who boarded a bus alone in Nogales and rode down to Mitla, Oaxaca to live for nine months with an old Zapotec Indian couple named Juana and Feliz.
Spiritual Seeker.
Who was the seeker looking for God realization who came back to New York from a Mexican pueblo in a state of culture shock? Who wandered into dance as a way out of the dilemma posed by academics devoid of spirit. Who spent the next four years dancing and studying Spiritual Science. Who was she when the center of her head opened up and she traveled out into infinity and realized she was lecturing in Supernumerary Mathematics in another dimension. And who was she living in an altered state for the next three days seeing auric fields.
Wife, Mother, Housewife, Instructor.
Who was the maiden when she married in a fancy wedding in Tarrytown the first guy that asked at the biologically correct childbearing age of 33? Who adored her two girls and was not in love with her husband. Who found an obsession with teaching step classes to mostly women. Who always felt there was something else she was there to tell them as she pointed them to the left or the right. Who was told by a Phoenix in a vision her life would turn upside down in six months and settle down in eight to ten years.
Divorcee.
Who was the love lorn homemaker who had never had an orgasm when her husband walked into her bathroom as she stepped in the shower saying he wanted a divorce? Who when met by her soon to be ex for lunch was offered $6,000 to get out of his and her children’s lives? Who when the judge with the white button down shirt like her husband’s gave her two weeks to remove herself from the home she had created for herself and her children? And who was she when with her heart shattered, she kissed her precious girls good bye and walked away from what had been?
Devotee.
Who was this broken and tentative person when a voice boomed into the center of her head while in savasana at a John Friend yoga retreat imploring her to get darshan with Ammachi? Who was she when in the presence of Amma, she merged with a superforce of divine consciousness and felt all her ancestors through time? Who was she when shakti rained through her body and her heart cracked deeply open while gazing at a pond of floating lotus flowers alongside the train headed to Mt. Arunachala.
Lover.
Who was this late blooming lover when she went underground to create life on her own terms using a pseudonym that explored sex and men behind closed doors with 3500 partners over the next seven years?
Wounded Healer.
Who is this lonely jewel who began healing the inexplicable shock, shame and trauma of losing her family? Who deeply explored her inner world, while struggling with legitimacy. Who took cautious steps to find a place to share her wisdom. Who found support even as she supported many other walking wounded as a counseling intern in a low cost mental health clinic.
Wise Woman, Dreamer.
Who is this individual with two beautiful daughters now grown who have never stopped loving her? Who has found some measure of forgiveness, vanquished a few demons while more lurk in the shadows? Who has survived menopause. Who is exploring her self as an independent spirit moving forward to create a self sustaining life that expresses who she is. Who still dreams of having a life partner and a home for her children who will always be her precious girls.
Footnote: At it’s core, this is one person’s thumbnail sketch, not the story written between the lines, of the deep legacy of the feminine as given to me to work through in this seminal time of redefinition. No, we are not just the product of our experiences, our experiences are the product of who we are. Who we are in the midst of the culture and times we find ourselves in, as well as the intrinsic stuff that makes each of us me.
Anonymous
Submitted 5.15.09