![]() I feel that the internal battle with that most threatening of all unconscious fears in my cave has been fought and won, finally. Would my daughter become resentful of that bond as her father resented my bond with her at that age? She and I made no secret of our love and had already begun to shine it luminously when we’re together. My granddaughter and I had already formed a powerful bond that was extraordinarily close and loving. Worse … another Sophie’s Choice nightmare. Over the next two years, which have just about completed, I did discover the unconscious fear that had been demonizing my psyche without my knowledge all those years-the fear that my daughter, who I loved more than all life and who had been fathered by a dangerous distortion of a man-would succumb to the twisting and destructive efforts of her father and turn into him, and then try to separate me from her daughter the way her father had done with me. It was so well symbolized in “Star Wars” by Luke Skywalker in his training with Yoda, when Luke entered a dark cave where he would have to meet and fight to the death the greatest threat to Luke’s mastery: himself. It was my initiation into a terrifying passage of the spiritual journey from which many never emerge. It was a chamber in my own mind that, while totally unconscious until then, nevertheless hovered just beyond awareness to shade and impact my every waking moment. What I did not know at the time was that that black panther was signaling the entry into a cave of my deepest, darkest fears. My shamanism is self-taught-remembrance more than apprenticeship -so it required me to seek the meanings and attributes of panther myself. ![]() Once hone, I went to a Zuni shop and bought a beautiful black panther fetish which I kept with me to learn it’s meaning. It followed us to Ft Worth for the burial ceremony, and appeared again on my way back to New Mexico. But once we were all together in Dallas, I continued to see that truck in odd, out-of-the-way places around town. After the 4th time passing it, I took note. The girls were flying and I would meet them the next day.Īll the way to Dallas, I kept passing a truck with a leaping black cat PANTHER was the name and logo. With that as background, we three female survivors of a Donald Trump wannabe husband/daddy figure were gathering to remember my mother. When my daughter was 9, her father and I fought a bitter custody battle which I won on principle and in the eyes of the court, but his wealth and his relentless mission to destroy the Divine Feminine in every female he could own, has shadowed us all the days of our lives even though that battle has been officially over for decades. My daughter (46 at the time) and precious granddaughter (4) were meeting me in Texas for the memorial service.
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