Part III- Burning Thorns Grow
Thorns are a rose’s way to be able to protect the softness of her petals. To ward off unwanted wanderers who don’t honour her delicate unfolding. Her thorns are her strength to be able to bloom again and again, no matter the hardship. There to let all know that she isn’t for everyone. She isn’t scared of blood, pain, or fighting to keep her peace, and especially her love.
What has become one of my favourite stories in my own unfolding towards God’s love is that, like the rose, we must grow our own thorns to protect the love that we possess. It is far from a comfortable part of one’s growth. As I can imagine, for a rose it is not easy growing all those thorns. It must take time to become tough enough, hard enough to puncture even skin.
In writing this part of my story, it’s one of the reasons why I haven’t been able to talk about my spiritual unfolding earlier.
That simply, I had to grow my thorns.
Through multiple heartbreaks, tears, screaming, denial, invisible wounds, and years of experiencing the growth of one’s thorns. That only now, and not without still hesitancy, do I have the courage to share.
Even as I write this, I find my fingers unwilling to want to start writing further. Wanting to leave this blog post as vague as possible. So that you won’t have to know the truth when it comes to learning about the unhealthy masculine energy, as the embodiment of the feminine resides in me.
Now that wouldn’t be any fun, would it? Keeping all my secrets and lessons in. So at times, and begrudgingly, I write on. I’m here to let you know my thorns have grown strong enough to continue. Depending on the day, the month, the season, my emotional realm, or mental state will vary the extent of the knowledge I provide here.
Alongside Spirit reminding, no, encouraging me not to silence my voice. Let me show you what I mean when Spirit likes to step in.
Daily walks are one of my favourite times to see what spirit has lined up for me on my path.
On one of my mental health walks this week I stumbled past a discarded piece of paper:
“Sharing my story could help others.”
The universe loves to give us signs on our path to continue doing the work we know we are here to do… and this is mine. I honestly laugh wholeheartedly when I stumble upon my guides’, angels’, ancestors’, and spirits’ messages. They’re lovingly blunt with me—’cause if not, I’d question them constantly. I swear I can see them shaking their heads at me as I write.
Now I must preface, I’ve had a very healthy relationship when it came to male members in my life. Far from perfect, but I would say the closest thing that one might. My father has been and still is a loving, kind, respectful, and hardworking man. Not one really for words, which has been a learning in itself, but luckily his love was that of action.
My two younger brothers, full of energy, protection, straightforward thinking, humour, and ridiculousness, always made me laugh growing up and even now, I enjoy every time I spend around them.
All my grandfathers were unique and showed ways of the masculine of their own. Once again, I was raised with beautiful men in my life.
So when I was 19, I left my high school job working for a local family-owned butcher shop, whose owner himself was extremely fatherly as well. Very supportive, an amazing first boss anyone could have asked for. Everything changed, I would say, when I began serving at Earls, a Calgary chain restaurant. Away from my family and friends’ love, protecting presence, and view, my virtues, to say the least, were very much in danger to the prowling, predatory eyes of men within the service industry. Luckily, my parents raised me with a good head on my shoulders, alongside good genes.
Growing up in Alberta, being as cold and snowy as it is, there was, I swear, close to 10 months of the year where alcohol was very present. Not much to do during the colder months back in the day. I was freshly legal, alcohol was new and exciting to me. Being able to drink at bars, go to liquor stores on my own was an experience I’d never done. Mix in being broken up with my high school sweetheart of 2 years, and I was very much single, wild, and free. Coming out of this relationship and working at Earls, with men’s eyes all on you, I hadn’t yet learned the lesson unfolding, where the unhealthy masculine only wanted to take from the feminine without any notion of love. Or if there was, it was under false pretence, worse yet, manipulation to get me into their beds.
Please note I speak from the side of a feminine/female-identifying woman—to know that this lusting without love is possible within every individual, as we hold both yin/yang energy within us, ever dancing.
This is MY story. With MY words. Written to share in hopes to heal.
Now, back to my truth unfolding. At the time, I didn’t realize that this goddess energy radiated from me. I wouldn’t figure out until 15 years later that shining one’s light can be a medicine of its own. Shining that light into the shadow aspects of one’s soul to be seen, forgiven, and loved. As the old saying goes—a fire pulls the moths into the flame, enticingly so. The best way I can explain how I learned to grow my thorns was when I learned how to dance with the Devil himself. The Devil being the unhealthy, toxic masculine energy.
He’s a great dancer, by the way.
The way he holds me, smells, licks my lips, digs his claws deep into my skin. It’s intoxicating. There is a power that the feminine energy wants to soften to—feel safe in. Alongside the softness, one of the feminine’s true natures, there is its balance—raw, sensual, creative, passionate, and beauty that one can possess. No wonder the masculine wants to get its claws in it. What comes so naturally to us is mesmerizing to them.
In my own personal journey, in my younger years, I remember the ease in naturally embodying this beautiful energy. Though in its raw form, without any limitations or boundaries (thorns) put on it yet, it was hard to understand the power it held.
This is the part where it starts getting tricky—remembering the details of specific events that transpired. I drank heavily to hush the guilt and shame I carried with me. Of all the men—at times, women as well—that I followed into their beds or brought back to mine. Where I lost myself in the masculine, searching for love. As a girl wanting to grow into a woman, it took me a while to understand that not everyone has the best intention in mind. That people will use you to catch even a glimpse of the raw feminine energy. I am and forever will be a sexual individual. What do I love more than sex, you ask? I love love. Now put that into a teen/young adult’s body… welp, let’s just say it got dangerous fast. Alongside my open rose petal heart, I didn’t realize that I even knew I could grow thorns to protect myself. I hadn’t had to! My first boyfriend and I loved each other deeply, so sex came very naturally and was a beautiful balance of give and receive.
I didn’t realize that people would only take from you, use you, lie to you, ghost you, cast you aside, make you feel like you weren’t enough. That you were too much, that you were crazy, brush you off, play you against other feminine souls only wanting to love. I didn’t realize a flame lit that quietly began to burn me. I didn’t realize the rage I began to hold towards God, Spirit, and the masculine all this made me.
I’ve danced with the devil long enough,
When God out reached he’s hand,
I couldn’t help but grasp it.
As I was tired of dancing to the same ol’ tune
My sins played.
Until my next spur of vulnerability arises in me.
-Emma