Like many highly sensitive people, I've grappled with a particular pattern within myself for what feels like my entire life. It's the internal battle with the sacredness of, and belonging with, my feelings, a struggle that I know many of you can probably relate to.
In fact, it has often been made clear that not all feelings are welcome, not only in the mundane world but also in the depths of many "spiritual" circles. When it comes to the more fiery or difficult feelings of rage and anger, the watery grief, and the earthy, heavy depression, there is a certain unspoken expectation. You can feel them but not express them for too long or with too much intensity without triggering reactions of disdain or departure. There is often an unspoken mockery or side conversations of judgment in circles we are not privy to (which add to the primordial shame of them).
As a young boy and teenager, I was very shy, and my love was very hard to express. It was often overwhelming, and, as you would expect, my emotions and love were not always welcome in competitive teenage circles.
I learned to hide that love, shielding it with shame and awkwardness, which added to the misfit and separation I experienced. It was hard to want to speak about my passion for ants or stick insects to those who were only interested in branded clothes and the latest sneakers.
Then, I was bullied and sexually abused, so I just learned to bury all my feelings and emotions in a deep cave and find places where pretense and superficial connections were the currency. No one would bother or care for what was behind the masks we wore, and this felt safe.
This false identity is how I found my way as a young executive in the luxury industry, the epitome of masks with fake constant smiles, pretenses, and praise. What a glorious artificial island in a world of pain! I was indeed blessed and welcomed into that rainbow of falsity. Let's all play the games and pretend that the money and perfectly designed brands we dwell in reflect our inner states.
At the same time, I was very aware, and I witnessed on the darkest nights of those cocktail parties and galas the spread of drugs, heavy drinks, and particularly obvious sexual deviances that no one would talk about once back on the luxury department store floor.
I played the game well and, as expected, buried my true feelings in a dark cave in my soul, becoming skilled at belonging in such circles. Success came with that skill set of pretense.
Until the pivotal moment of my spiritual awakening, the initiation into the depths of the jungle, and the countless buckets of purge filled with my darkness and repressed emotions. My dark night of the soul had begun, marking the start of my journey towards self-acceptance.
Twenty years later, I was blessed to be in spiritual communities where feelings were more welcome, and opportunities to cry together, share our turmoils, scream our rage, and voice our shame were common. And yet, I am often confronted by the reality that we might have dropped the masks from our faces but still hold them in our hands.
Indeed, those circles reflect the world, but not always the unconditional acceptance we crave and sometimes find challenging to embody.
The past 15 years of teaching, guiding, and holding space have brought those ancient wounds to the surface in unexpected ways. We often state that as teachers, we are students of life, that we are in the circle with everyone, not more nor less than every individual, and that we (indeed) still walk our healing path and are a work in progress. I am very keen on stating this and walking that way because I am all too aware of the dark shadows that "perfect teachers" have to carry.
There is also the shadow of false vulnerability, pretending that we belong as imperfect beings with everyone but being terrified to let our actual monsters out of our cave.
There are unspoken expectations of what teachers should say, how they should talk, and what feelings they can process and publicly express. When we are struggling, having "bad days" like any human, or when "life sucks" (yes, life sucks sometimes for everyone), we are rarely allowed to have our feeling belong to the world. The cave where I buried my feelings is never too far, and the path to it is pretty well known; it is easy to walk in such ways, but I refuse to walk this anymore, which can be quite triggering to many.
Over the years, I have had a few students leave me, shame me, ridicule me, and judge me for being too human, for having the whole range of emotions of a human being, for sometimes being in my dark spot, having a bad day, being deep in my cave, i.e., not being accessible. Some have even sadly congregated together and entertained this dark prayer.
I will not discuss the boundaries we often need to set in such cases, which are rarely welcomed and always judged as further proof of what we add to the slippery slope of confirmation bias.
I have also lost friends when sharing that I was in that cave, inaccessible and unavailable, at a loss for feelings and words, and had no other place to be for a while. Those are the most painful losses.
Those losses and ways of disconnection weave through our lives, too. As men, we are often expected to be solution providers in our divine masculine, a term that is frequently defined in a highly colonized and Westernized manner, far from true masculinity. This definition can be castrating, as one of my dear sisters and authentic tantra teachers (not neo-tantra BS, genuine ancient tantra) would put it.
In the past three years, I have had to navigate a particularly challenging situation with my wife, stepping into deep emotional support and the bringer of "only good vibe and good news." This may be my old story of seeing the world that way, that not all parts of me are welcomed. It's my primordial wound that was created at my birth by being separated from my mother.
My old wounds. The parts of me in that cave needed my love more than ever. I have too often retreated to that cave that has indeed often overflown, as by now, it has been quite full despite all the work, all the purge buckets, and all the lonely nights.
As I was feeding my daughter this evening, I connected more deeply than ever to this realization I shared with you.
The phrase I heard, whether from my daughter's guides or my soul and guides, was, "Your feeling belongs to the world and not to that cave anymore."
So I will say this for now. Please allow me to feel. To be fuck**g human. With my good days and my bad days. To feel shame. To be angry and heartbroken by the destruction of life and the nauseating witnessing of the dislocated bodies of children and civilians. To be heartbroken and often worried about the state of our living Earth.
Let me say when I need "NO!" to those who ask me to abandon my humanity for political or country allegiance. Allow me to be in the world, from the world, of the world, with all my imperfections, all my feelings, and the most profound love for this life.
My feelings, like yours, belong to the world. Not to any hidden caves.
And I say a clear NO to all that is pushing me or anyone into their caves. No to the pretense and the gossip, No to the putting down and judgment, No to the channeling of so-called "light spirit" in circles of deep separation and judgment, No to the highly distorted story of "this is all love." I am sorry that sometimes we are all hurt. Truly, I am. Let me breathe through all I am and feel all I am; please do, too! Punch this pillow and scream in it; get this fire out!
Because to be whole, I mean fuck**g whole, we need to face it all, feel it all, allow it all, scream it all, and be in circles of deep witnessing and unbearable infinite love. To be whole, we need our most deeply wounded parts to be held in that kind of love and not shamed, gossiped about, or run away from.
That level of radical honesty and authentic being-ness will be lonely and terrifying. It might bring many losses, yet it is the only path to genuinely allowing our essence to shine through the deepest wounds we carry and ultimately carry us collectively to true belonging in the chaotic unconditional love of this magical incarnation.
That is what I wish for every single person in this world, in all those circles, and in all the communities, families, and places that struggle through layers of unprocessed emotions, unacknowledged shame, and buried trauma in the deepest cave on Earth.
Our feelings belong to the world! ALL OF THEM.
Angell Deer
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