RED ALERT
I will come in the night following an Ordinary day
I will turn your world upside down
I will Confront you with the Truths of your actions,
thoughts and motives
I will be a mirror to your Soul.
VINA VON S.
The Truth Vixen, “The Dark Goddess”
It was the perfect setting for a film interview: an idyllic spiritual retreat center nestled among stunning redwoods just north of San Francisco. But right before we let the camera roll, our interviewee, Andrew Harvey (a sacred activist, Oxford scholar, and mystic), decided to give my filmmaker and me something we needed even more than an interview: a lecture. A very passionate lecture. More specifically, an earth-shaking, rafter-rumbling, fire-breathing wake-up call from the Divine She Herself. Lemme tell ya, there is nothing like a gay mystic channeling Kali at you for two hours straight!
“WHY ARE YOU MAKING THIS FILM WITH HIM?!” (referring to the filmmaker)
“STOP ACTING LIKE A WHORE!!!”
Before I continue, I want you to know why I stayed in that room and swallowed all that fire. First, because I love, respect, and trust Andrew. Second, because despite the fact that I had been cut off from external Divine Sources for more than seven months, it was completely clear to me Who was blazing through Andrew — the Divine Feminine energy was unmistakable. Third, because the messages weren’t exactly unfamiliar. Andrew voiced (screamed) my own intuitions:
“You want to make a film about the Divine Feminine when you’re abusing your feminine soul and allowing the Divine Feminine to be used in the process?! The Divine Feminine won’t stand for it! She simply won’t!”
I knew very well that the filmmaker and I did not have a healthy personal dynamic, but I thought I was handling it. I thought I could and should put up with what was happening in order to get this Red film out into the world. Apparently, the Divine Feminine had other opinions. Incredibly loud ones, actually. But they certainly got my attention. After that spank, Andrew/Kali moved on to other aspects of my career:
“You have important work to offer; don’t be another ______ [insert name of a famous mainstream female spirituality teacher]!!! Don’t get caught up in sales and marketing and being famous and the media!”
I inhaled sharply. My sudden surge of success flashed before my eyes, as did all the recent offers from those who wanted to help “get me out there.” They believed the Redvolution was extremely marketable. It is. They saw me as a hot and sassy new spiritual spokesperson. I can be. They treated Red like a trend, like a brand, like a product to sell … and I was beginning to as well. While part of me felt uncomfortable with this recent push, part of me also felt it was okay, because I wasn’t pushing, well, drugs or unhealthy information; I was “pushing” spiritual awakening, and what’s so wrong with that? However, as Mariana Caplan points out, “Authentic spirituality is often co-opted and manipulated into a commodity that is bought and sold in the marketplace. Spirituality is not only a path to liberation, truth, and compassion; it is also big business.”1
Before we get too hot and bothered, I want to make clear that I’m all for spiritual peeps breaking old-school poverty vows, knowing their inherent worth, and becoming financially independent and abundant. I’m all for people learning how to reach larger audiences with their passion in creative and effective ways. And I’m definitely a champion of women succeeding in what’s traditionally been a male-dominated field. But what Andrew/Kali reminded me was that even our best intentions for offering our spiritual gifts to the world contain shadows. Even though I wasn’t consciously using my spiritual gifts to “get out there” (and my stage-frightened self actually preferred to stay behind closed doors), I needed to become much more aware of my ego’s unconscious desires to be seen, admired, and even famous, and how these masked desires were influencing my career.
Feeling rightfully threatened by this Lecture O’ Fire, my wounded, well-meaning ego kicked in, and I stuttered, “But, but, but, I thought I was helping by making the Divine Feminine more mainstream and marketable. I want to welcome as many women as possible back into Her arms! It’s part of my Divine service!”
Andrew roared,
“You’re working for the RED FEMININE, Sera!!! Kali doesn’t give a shit who She reaches or who gets Her message! Her message is only for those who have the ears to hear! Stop watering it down! Stop trying to please the mainstream market and your own ego! Prophets are never liked, Sera! You have the potential to not just be another pastel spiritual speaker, but an authentic teacher. BUT, you need to get real, real serious! Don’t buy into all that New Age fluffy bullshit! Don’t become just a popular pretty girl who talks about empowering women without ruffling any feathers. And don’t allow yourself to become the hot new spiritual sex object created for their viewing pleasure!
“Don’t. Be. Patriarchy’s. Puppet!”
I choked on an ocean of fire.
I’ll be honest: There’s something very seductive about teaching and selling “spirituality” these days, especially when you’re a smart, attractive, “spiritual” woman. My eyes were forced open to this temptation and tendency. I immediately recognized inadvertent ways I had been misusing my femininity. I shuddered as I recognized how easy it is to appear like I’m being all Redvolutionary, while in truth being patriarchy’s plaything.
Through a Red lens, patriarchy is not just a sociopolitical system of power that has dominated both women and men for millennia by directly or indirectly undermining females and feminine values; it is also a multidimensional energy and a tricky motherfucker in the truest sense of that phrase. It continually shape-shifts in order to stay in control. If there is an awakening in consciousness that threatens its power (like the Divine Feminine), you can betcha bottom dollar that patriarchy will find ways to coopt, commodify, and even mimic it in order to carry forward its own agenda. In other words, patriarchy is now wearing a goddess costume. Like Jesus in the temple, overturning the merchandise stalls and expelling the charlatans, we women have to take a stand and scream:
“Not. In. Our Mother’s HOUSE!!!!!!!!!”
Now, before we gather pitchforks and torches, it’s important to recognize and honor the fact that there are as many ways to express the Feminine Divine as there are people. Some “feminine” expressions might appear like “commodification” (especially through certain spiritually correct or second wave feminist lenses), even when they are actually authentic Divine Feminine transmissions. But Andrew/Kali’s wake-up call reminded me how I needed to be vigilant and responsible, and become much more conscious and careful with how I transmitted the Red feminine.
Andrew/Kali continued:
“Be the authentic, unapologetic, unorthodox, burning-hot sexual woman who truly represents Her, not ‘them.’ That will scare patriarchy! Sera, you need to give your good girl a funeral! This planet is in crisis! Now is not the time to play the media’s games or to worry if you’ll be liked!”
And then he fired it home:
“You must not trust Her enough because you think you know how to get Her out into the world better than She does!”
Bull’s-eye.
My head bowed; tears streamed.
It’s hard to trust Her foreign ways over the more familiar, popular, and proven-successful ways of offering one’s work to the world (especially when She had been MIA for more than seven months). Although it’s not unheard of to ask the Divine to guide our career, it’s a lot fucking harder to put into practice, especially when you’re a recovering good-girl people-pleaser whore whose Divine guidance happens to come from a Red hot and holy Goddess who breathes fire, wields swords, and stirs some serious shit up!
Although this tirade might sound harsh, there was not one second during the fire-hosing that I didn’t feel Her love roaring as my deepest truth. As Marion Woodman says, “Sooner or later, the feminine face of God, Love, looks us straight in the eye, and though her love may manifest as rage at our self-destruction, she’s there.”2 Divine Feminine rage is not unconscious or ego-driven or malicious. As Bonheim tells us, “The rage of the goddess is highly conscious, like a blinding flash of light that shoots from her third eye and unfailingly finds its target,”3 which in this case was …
my ass.
Without this spanking, I might have continued to let the mainstream spirituality arena, patriarchy, my shadows, and my spiritualized ego dictate my career’s direction. This not only would’ve misused the Divine Feminine I was so intent on serving, but it would have misled my audience, which I cared so deeply about. The timing was eerily perfect. Shaken, humbled, and Red-faced, my filmmaker and I, er, “thanked” Andrew and silently drove back to San Francisco.
CHOP CHOP CHOP!
After a week of processing just what the hell had gone down during that two-hour Sacred Rage-a-thon, I made the toughest professional decision I had ever made thus far in my life. After two challenging but inspiring years of working on my beloved Redvolution film, I let go of my award-winning filmmaker, who was also the cinematographer, the editor, the sound designer, the producer, and the fundraiser, and who had just moved to San Francisco so we could complete the film.
While something burning deep inside me knew this was the right decision, my mind completely spazzed out after I made the final cut. How could I ditch what felt like one of my most divinely ordained service projects? Was I delusional for thinking Andrew Harvey was Kali’s mouthpiece? I’ve always been scared of going public with my divine mission; was all this an unconscious way for me to sabotage myself? Was I simply scared of success?
Next up on Kali’s chopping block: my writing editor, who happens to be one of the best professional writers I know, a true word magician. His skills helped my first book, The Red Book, get published and reach a wide audience. He also happens to be an ex-boyfriend. Only a few weeks after the Andrew Harvey incident, my editor and I were discussing our upcoming editing schedule for my new book, when we had an all-too familiar unhealthy verbal exchange. And that’s when it hit me like a ton of Red bricks: he was not the right editor for this book.
I almost threw up on my plate.
Besides my personal blog, I had never let the world see a piece of my writing that had not been edited by him. As ridiculous as this might sound, I was terrified to write without my editor’s help, just as I was terrified to create a film without the filmmaker’s help. My terror was justifiable on one hand: I simply don’t have their professional expertise. But there was also something deeper going on — a powerful internal fear I had about putting my work out into the world without the help and support of men.
A woman being supported by a man, or “the feminine” being supported by “the masculine” (inside ourselves or outside ourselves), is often healthy and balancing and even necessary. Many wise ones teach that you can’t truly create anything without the energy of both the masculine and the feminine getting It On. And I agree, in theory. But you see, I wasn’t in relationship with the healthy masculine at this time (inside or outside of myself); I was in relationship with unhealthy masculine derivatives, and I was completely dependent upon patriarchy. If I really wanted to live a life dedicated to the Divine Feminine, I needed to come to know and respect Her expertise, Her ways of getting out into the world, and Her ways of loving and working healthily with men and the masculine. As Marion Woodman writes, “If we leave our father’s house, we have to make ourselves self-reliant…. Otherwise, we just fall into another father’s house.”4
Kali wasn’t done with me. Three’s a charm. My newly re-established intimate relationship with Dennis was already fraught with issues, but I was trying desperately to keep it intact, especially since I was losing all my creative male partners and needed a supportive male shoulder to lean on. But one night, when the internal pressure became unbearable and the unhealthy issues were bitingly clear, I finally mustered up the strength and broke up with him. Experiencing yet another life-changing and gut-wrenching event in such a short time made me realize this wasn’t a casual drive-by from the Divine Feminine. She meant bizness.
Now, despite how I’ve implied that Kali was the one chopping my life into little pieces, it’s just a literary device and a way for me to bitch and moan. I’m completely clear that She did not take anything or anyone away from my life. She did something much harder and yet much more empowering for me: She handed me Her sword and asked me to trust myself. I had to make the terrifying cuts, say the difficult words (like risking my new publishing contract by telling my publisher that I was no longer able to write a self-help book about spirit-focused metaphysics, to which they suggested I write a self-help book about how to be Redvolutionary instead), turn down the deals (including the book with the movie star and other tantalizing commercial offers), and anxiously walk away from what had looked like a successful service-oriented spiritual path — and straight into the petrifying unknown.
Concerned colleagues suggested I get “coached” to help “fix” my career and set up alternative support structures. Although it was tempting, I resisted. I knew most coaches would help me build my career back up (hire a new director for the film, a new editor for the book, manifest new offers and a new boyfriend, maybe even in seven weeks or less). But it seemed pretty damned clear that it was divine demolition time.
I can’t find all the pieces you have shattered me into.
They drip down between my toes,
swirl around my tummy,
distract my mind,
and burn a hole in my heart …
You shake your head at me,
trying to put together what You have purposefully taken apart.
Will she ever learn?
BROKEN AND BURNING
With most of my career now lying in pieces around me, I began to wonder whether I was supposed to let my entire career go. I didn’t like this idea. Not one bit. These days, most people are just trying to find their mission and gifts to offer the world. I truly believed I had found mine. It felt like all I had done my entire life was follow my passion and those divine winks. Was I really so off course?
Then I remembered Rumi.
When Shams showed up in Rumi’s life, Rumi was already a “successful” spiritual teacher. While there was nothing wrong with his spiritual career, per se, it happened to be a projection of his false self, not an accurate representation of Rumi’s true self. (Our “false selves” can often appear very spiritual.) Rumi’s path was to break up with his spiritual vocation in order to break into his Red heart. There, in the mystical madness of utter confusion and what looked like professional suicide, Rumi found his truest calling — to be immersed in divine love, which unleashed a stunning stream of mystical poetry. Later, Rumi went back to teaching, but from a place and space he could never have arrived at if he had continued to follow his false self’s “spiritual path.”
While I’m certainly no Rumi, his example is something many of us can relate to in our own ways. Whether we’re a lawyer, a mother, a gardener, a stripper, a self-help author, or a teacher, our souls are continually calling us deeper. If we’re willing to shed our skins (over and over again), then layer after layer of our truth will appear anew and demand action. What is true for us today won’t necessarily be true for us tomorrow. Aligning our ordinary life with our evolutionary divinity is a path of fire: You burn. You grow. You burn. You grow. Constantly. The only stability is our trust in the process and our intuitive awareness that Love’s very nature is to consume and call us home.
To
Consume
and
Call
Us
Home
During this time, I went to lunch with Carly Stasko, a radiant young cancer survivor. When you’re around someone who has or is facing the immediacy of physical death, it certainly puts things in perspective. Being with Carly stopped any “sorry for myself” sighs from slipping out; after all, I was only facing the death of my “false self” and its career. Although dealing with cancer is extremely different from what I was going through, there are a few metaphorical, psychological, and spiritual similarities. As Bill Plotkin admits, “Entry into the life of the soul demands a steep price, a psychological form of dying.”5
Turns out, in order to embody our soul, everything that we have placed before our soul must die, including our spiritual missions. In fact, Sufis often moan “die before you die,” and many Christian mystics suffer through a spiritual death in “the dark night of the soul.” The point is, death is an integral part of our soul’s life. At the end of our conversation, Carly scribbled a short poem she had written after being diagnosed and gave it to me:
There’s a multi-colored effigy
of everything I strived to be
Burning down in front
of me
Telling me to
Just let it go.6
After my lunch with Carly, the vision I received after my interview with Marion reappeared — a Red curtain dropping down right in front of me, cutting me off from my audience, the world, the house lights.
(THUD.)
I sighed with painful resignation. My aloneness and despondency swelled to massive proportions.
“Yep.” (Sniff.)
“Got it. I’m still behind the freakin’ curtain all fucked up and,” (Sniff.) “alone.”
Turn Around, Sera.
Now there’s an idea.
I slowly turned around, away from the curtain, toward the waiting darkness behind me and was immediately Embraced by
Her.
My Red Lady.
She was back.
And the tears flowed, and the heart hiccupped, and the mind quieted, and
I got It.
“Oh,” I reverently whispered. “I’m not alone. I don’t have to die or give birth by myself. I’m not partnerless or loveless. You’re Here.”
Oh Lady … You’re Here.
SMOOCH!