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  • Writer's pictureJoseph Machney

Webs That I Spun

Often when a new year begins I find myself reflecting on the year that has past. I’m sure I’m not alone in this, but with 2020 being the year that it has been for the world I find myself reflecting on my life and how I had spent the past 366 days.

Through my session work throughout the year, it has become clearer and clearer as each day past that the balancing between the masculine and feminine is happening on so many levels that what it means to be a man or a woman is becoming redefined on a grand level.

To me this is so beautiful and yet so confusing at the same time. History has been slanted towards the conquests of man. Not women, men. It was painful to see this history come to the surface through the sessions I conducted. The suppression of women and the overall feminine expression has been all but vacant and the ripples of how that painfully expressed itself as multiple generations was heartbreaking.

From religion to war to politics to the infrastructure of societies, how much of it has been orchestrated by men? And where are we now? Why has the history books mostly omitted the triumphs and contributions of women? Why is there this imbalance? As I write this, a part of me feels such shame to be in a male body. That is where the deeper clarity comes. The understanding that we are both masculine and feminine at our core and through that understanding we can begin to forgive the part of us that has taken on the distortions within society; what it means to be a man. Also, what it means to be a woman. These are being restructured and as a result there is turmoil in the collective because of it. I feel that what was a foundation before is crumbling to the ground and how we define ourselves and our relationship with others is becoming new territory.

This past year, people spent so much time in isolation, with themselves, and their inner worlds. What did they find, I wonder? How much of the media and the outside world still tried to give that a definition? How much of that was aggressive or perhaps patriarchal masculine? Did it have the same influence as it would have had people been in crowds?

People died alone without support, feeling separated from a society that for some defined them. What were they left with as they waited? Where were their thoughts, their feelings, their sense of self? Who were they without the outside world or history to tell them? Did they get that clarity?

As I look back on this past year, I wonder about the impressions that I have left upon people. Spending a good part of the year listening to others, I concluded that people wanted to be heard and seen for who they are. As the tapestry of who they are became unwound as I listened, the balance and the love that was hidden underneath all of who they thought they were came to light. This is where the balancing between masculine and feminine became more evident and necessary.

History is unravelling and the collective is expressing it, as uncomfortable as it is. Racism, bigotry, sexism and all sorts of prejudices that began hundreds of years ago are being shown for all of humanity to witness. There is an opportunity for a collective shift in consciousness the likes of which the world has never seen, or more accurately, never recorded in the history books. The metamorphosis is here and as the caterpillar must become a squidgy mess before a butterfly, we as a society are going through that transformation as well. It is ugly, but what can become of it if we are able to see clearly, is a beautiful butterfly that can take us to new altitudes as a unified and balanced race.

I’ve tried throughout this past year to conduct myself with the utmost integrity and as this unravelling of the distorted masculine, from a collective epigenetic perspective, was expressed through me, I felt guilt, shame and anger in the process. I also felt compassion for the loneliness that I had felt as well as what I had seen in others as their and my inner relationship was unbalanced. The confusion and void caused as a result of it was heartbreaking, but it also showed me where to start and I hope them as well. Trading guilt, shame and anger for self-compassion; breaking records that no longer need to be played throughout the year. There are 364 days left in this year, and it is my intention each day to spin webs that will help to grow this collective shift towards the light. We are all in this together.

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