“At the end of the day—more than anything else—it just makes you realize that you’re okay. And I don’t think I realized how ‘not okay’ I felt until that moment.”
It’s something Sherri said once—and continues to say—about the Sacred Circle. It’s something I’ve ever felt more deeply than maybe anything else.
Beyond the powerful breakthroughs and increased income and changes in appearance and book deals and new relationships and whatever other magic happens in the Circle, the feeling—that knowing—that I’m okay. That we’re all okay.
That if nothing changed today, we’re okay. That we’ve always been okay.
Not fucked up. Not broken. Not wrong.
That feeling is the most soul-opening feeling in the world. Because you actually open to your soul. To all of yourself. Looking at it fully. Even with the trauma and the shame. And knowing—not just thinking—but knowing that you’re actually okay.
At the Mastermind level, we’re working with Discover and its Shadow Energy of Repression. And a lot of memories from earlier in life are coming up for me. My childhood. My adolescence. Years past.
And I’m amazed at how much I see myself. All of myself. In those moments. Even the moments of trauma and pain. So much shame. So much embarrassment. Wishing I were someone else in those moments.
And yet there’s only beauty there.
I’ve always been too loud and too exuberant and too emotional. I’ve always been a storyteller. And a magician. I remember secretly logging online to research the Egyptian pantheon and witchcraft and dragon magick at like eight-years-old. I hardly knew how to use the Internet. But somewhere I kept finding my ways to magic.
And then hiding it from the world. Feeling deep shame. Because I was supposed to be someone else.
I remember dancing and playing and laughing. And hiding that too. Because I was supposed to be quieter. Less expressive. More mature.
So I carried all of this shame. Buried down so deep that I didn’t even know it was there. And I lived my life from that place.
I don’t think we realize how “not okay” we feel all the time. How much we feel that something’s wrong with us. That we’re fucked up in some way. That we’re really, really screwed up. At least that’s how I felt for a long time.
And the sad part is I didn’t even know it. I didn’t realize it. Because maybe I’d felt that way for so long that it was my new normal. That other people felt happy, but I didn’t. That other people could be satisfied and grateful for simple lives, and I kept wanting more and more.
I didn’t realize the depths of it until I started to do this work. And then I saw it all. And everything felt overwhelming. Because I realized the extent of my patterns. The extent of my shame and trauma and heartache.
And, slowly but surely, I stopped being afraid to look at all of it. To look at my fears. And shame. And not be afraid.
When I think back to that little Mike—the one who’d always think up new stories and excitedly talk about them. So excitedly, in fact, that he’d usually hit his glass off the table and shatter it everywhere. When I think about him, I can’t help but see him desperately wanting to live the life that I lead now. Like, back then, it seeming like a mystical land.
Where he could write and play and be expressive and sensitive. Where he was paid for believing in magic and helping others to do the same. Where he could love fearlessly.
It opens my heart so much to him. And to all of my moments of trauma. And it makes me want to double-down on facing any other fears. Any other parts of myself that have ever not felt totally okay.
Because if little Mike could see what I see now, he’d know how okay he is. How perfect he is.
We’re a world of people who don’t feel okay. We have to struggle and strive and achieve more. We shame and blame ourselves. Telling ourselves we’re the problem. We’re anxious or depressed or socially awkward. And it’s our fault. Everyone else can survive the world normally. But we somehow can’t.
We feel not good enough. Or too much. And sometimes—most of the time—both.
We don’t quite fit into the lives we lead. At least not fully. And we try to change and contort ourselves to fit those lives. And desperately hope and pray to manifest for a new life. Something that would fit more.
I know it well. Because I spent so much time feeling that way. So feeling “okay’” was like breathing again after years of suffocating.
I mean, there’s nothing glamorous about feeling ”okay.” It’s not a gorgeous dream home or a new romance-filled relationship. It’s not suddenly experience your full Divinity or reaching some kind of enlightenment. It’s just okay. It’s just freedom.
And, in so may ways, that’s the point. We all want to be saved. Something to come in and save us. Like millions or dollars or our dream relationship or a fantastic new job. Saved from ourselves, maybe.
We want new content. But being “okay” is about new context. And that ultimately changes everything.
How would you live your life differently if you knew that you were “okay”? Right here, right now, as you are?
Who would you be then?