In a comment here, Ms. Rachelle notes
How sad that the opening of the mind, the soul. exacts such a price.
I'm not sure that I would call something having a price "sad." This is a finite world where saying yes to one thing always means saying no to something else, where choices must be made. Those schools of thought that say this is a reason for incarnation, so we have to leave the infinite and reveal ourselves though the demands of finite choice, well, they make sense to me.
If you want to be connected to the eternal, you have to disconnect from the world of the ephemeral. Yet if you are incarnate as flesh, you can never completely connect to the eternal, and have to meet your ephemeral needs of food, shelter, and of love.
For wounded healers, wounds separate them from the normative. Normal is within the range of human possibility — albinos and twins are normal — but normative is within the range of social expectation & convention. Albino people aren't expected and so they aren't normative.
To be both part of the normative world and also to be placed outside of it by your differences is to have to learn to be both connected and separate at the same time.
This, in my experience, is where the price must be paid. To be the bridge between worlds, to stand in the doorway, you have to be connected to both worlds while you are also separate from both worlds.
My mother has a new hummingbird feeder on the window across from her reclining throne. It's fascinating to watch their wing because you see it as being in two places at once, at each end of the range of motion and with a blur in the middle. Of course the wingtip can't really be in two places at once, but since it vibrates so fast, traversing the space between here and there, it seems to be.
That's how we move between worlds, not by being in two places at once, but by learning to control our vibratory rate so we can move across a range of possibility, being both here and there and everywhere between those points in the moment of one human heartbeat. It's about being both stable and in motion at in one moment and at one point, like those hummingbirds are as they drink the sugary nectar I brewed for them.
Marianne Williamson, who is a wounded healer herself, even if she doesn't embrace the term, reminds us that what people fear is separation. She encourages them to understand their connectedness to God & the universe so that they can help tolerate their separation from others, explaining that if we are connected at the deep fundamental level, being made out of the same stuff, then separation at the essential level, where we each have a unique essence, is just a celebration of flavor.
For Americans, who have no sense of the connectedness of history & heritage, of deeply rooted families & deeply traditional places, this seems like crazy talk. The suburban ethos is to be the same on the surface and keep our differences locked away deep inside, rather than to be the same deep inside and celebrate our surface differences.
For me, I know that I have to celebrate separation to embrace difference. I have to understand that my separation holds important lessons which clue me into the fundamental connection of all.
I need to be both the separate observer and the engaged participant, the concious creator and the exuberant creation, the tool of God and the embodiment of humanity. This is the lesson of the tradtions that teach us we need to co-create ourselves with God, separate from both other humans and the creator while always deeply connected with all living things and the godhead.
It is my separation, the dance of my concious mind that lets me be more clear in my connection, lets me feel the pulse of our shared earthbeat.
It's hard for me to say what's sad, because so much is sad and so much is happy, and so much is sad and happy at the same time, flavoured with the essential ambiguity of human life.
But I do know one thing: Joseph Campbell was right. The only way out to a fuller, happier life is to be more exuberant; to follow your bliss.