My Thoughts On Trauma Care

 

I recently watched a video of a traumatized cat slowly learning to trust again. The caregiver was patient and methodical: never rushing, never demanding. Day after day, they created a safe environment. It took months before the cat was willing to leave its cage, nearly a year before it felt comfortable enough to curl up on their lap.

It was beautiful to watch.

And it made me think: we already know how to do trauma care. We know how to wait, how to be gentle, how to create safety over time. We do it instinctively with animals. Yet when it comes to people, that same patience, grace, and understanding often disappears.

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What We Already Know (Through Animals)

When we care for a traumatized animal, we don’t expect immediate results. We don’t shame them for trembling, hiding, or lashing out. We recognize those responses as survival. We celebrate the small victories — “he finally took food from my hand,” “she finally let me pet her.”

We know that trauma lives in the body. We know that trust must be rebuilt slowly. And we accept that healing takes the time it takes.

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The Disconnect With Humans

But with people, we often lose this compassion.

When trauma shows up in humans, we label the responses as dysfunction. We call people paranoid, delusional, or uncooperative. We pressure them to “calm down” or “move on.”

The truth is: trauma responses are red flags, but not in the way they’re treated. They aren’t proof of failure. They’re signals. Markers of where the wound still lives. Indicators that more care is needed, not less.

And yet, many patients are abandoned when healing doesn’t fit the expected timeline. Insurance runs out. A clinician doesn’t know what to do. A doctor grows impatient. Instead of admitting uncertainty and helping connect a patient to the right care, too many walk away.

This happens more than we admit. It has happened to me. And it is deeply re-traumatizing. For someone already carrying the imprint of abandonment, being left again — this time by professionals — reinforces the belief: I am too much. I am beyond help.

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The Science We Ignore

We know that complex trauma can reshape the brain. We know it functions like brain injury. We know the nervous system doesn’t “reset” just because danger is technically over.

You can’t live for years at 95% vigilance and then flip a switch to relaxation. Logic doesn’t override a body trained for survival.

Humans are animals, too. Our nervous systems operate on the same principles as the dogs, cats, and horses we treat with such patience. But we often refuse to give each other the same grace.

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The Cost of Withholding Grace

When trauma survivors are dismissed, pressured, or abandoned, the consequences ripple outward. More substance use. More domestic violence. More suicide. Greater dependence on medication.

Not because people are “too broken,” but because they were denied the steady, thoughtful care their nervous systems needed to relearn safety.

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A Better Way Forward

The people who patiently rehabilitate animals aren’t coddling them. They are consistent. Thoughtful. Present. They know healing is not instant, and they honor the process.

We could do the same for humans. Every trauma response could be treated as a signpost — an invitation to lean in, not a reason to pull away. Every red flag could mean: “Here is where care is needed most.”

We already know how to do this. The question is whether we’ll choose to extend the same grace to each other.

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The Middle Way

“The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.

The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’

‘An enemy did this,’ he replied.

The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’

‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’”

Matthew 13:24–30

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So much of modern spirituality has swung too far into positive thinking as a reaction to the heavy, guilt-laden messages of traditional religion. Unfortunately, both extremes are ungrounded, unsafe, and spiritually toxic. While we are earthbound, challenge will always be part of the human experience. In many cases, those very challenges are to our benefit: they build spiritual muscle, sharpen discernment, and give us a living code to walk by. There will always be times we bump our heads against spiritual law — most often the law of return: you reap what you sow.

Negative or unbalanced manifestations abound because, in general, it’s easier for us to believe in struggle than in joy. Many cling to grind mentality and poverty thinking: work hard, exceed your limits, push yourself. These can be strong, even necessary messages in moments of motivation. But when we absorb them as the only way forward, we enter an unbalanced relationship with life.

On the other hand, toxic positivity offers just as much imbalance — perhaps more. At least with negative thinking, you remain aware that challenges will come. Toxic positivity, however, promises that if you reach a certain level of enlightenment, you will somehow rise above challenge altogether — that you’ll never have to deal with difficult people, hardship, or the messiness of humanness.

My Personal Philosophy: The Middle Way

The Middle Way is the practice of living with balance and clarity. It requires disciplining the mind not to fall too far into worry, guilt, or hardship-focused thinking, while at the same time not being swept away by affirmations of perfection or the false security of toxic positivity.

It is about holding a steady awareness: knowing that challenges exist, yet refusing to let them dictate your destiny. It’s not denial, and it’s not obsession — it’s the grounded work of shaping your mind toward abundance without pretending life will never test you.

Practically, the Middle Way invites you to affirm life’s possibilities, to create strong words of intention, and to shift your attraction point toward experiences that nourish rather than deplete you. At the same time, it asks you to stay honest: to acknowledge that problem-solving, negotiation, and the unexpected are part of life. That acknowledgment is not defeat — it is preparation. When you know challenges will come, you no longer fear them. You meet them with confidence, a positive outlook, and grounded thinking.

In short: don’t spiral into worry, guilt, and hardship as your default story; don’t drift into denial and call it enlightenment. Stand in the middle with clear eyes and a steady heart.

The Middle Way is not about living on a cloud, nor about sinking under the weight of life’s hardships. It is walking between the two — eyes open, heart steady, spirit anchored. You begin to trust that divine intelligence guides your path, even when the road is rough, and that your discernment is sharp enough to step around unnecessary hardship.

In the end, the Middle Way is freedom: freedom from the illusion that life will be perfect, and freedom from the fear that it will always be painful. It is the path that keeps us steady, resilient, and ready for the harvest.

Masculine & Feminine Energies and Gender Roles

 

I have been a student of relationships for as long as I can remember. My deepest desire has always been to share loving connections with the people around me. That desire, though, was shaped by trauma. Because the models of family, friendship, and romance I witnessed early in life were toxic and dysfunctional, I grew up searching for answers: How do people form meaningful bonds? How do they sustain them over time?

Decades of therapy and inner work have helped me grow, but relationships remain a passion subject of study. Along the way, I realized I wasn’t alone. So many of us are asking the same questions: How do we find people to truly connect with, and how do we hold onto those connections in healthy ways?

This reflection is part of my attempt to answer those questions—not with “final solutions,” but with observations of patterns I’ve noticed in the past, where I see us now, and where I think we might be headed. At the heart of it is my conviction that we are living through an adjustment period in how men and women relate to one another. Both are struggling to find their footing in a world that looks nothing like the one our primal instincts were shaped for.

What I offer here are not prescriptions, but possibilities—ideas about how we might begin to maneuver differently if we want different results. Because underneath all the noise, I still believe this: most people want to love and be loved. If we can keep that intention in focus, I believe there’s a way forward.

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Primitive Origins

Let’s strip it back to the beginning. In the creation story, Adam comes first. Alone, he learns survival—how to find food, where to take shelter, how to protect himself against animals stronger than him. He begins to make sense of the world by naming what he sees. Identity is forged in solitude before there is ever companionship.

When woman enters the picture, everything changes. Their complementary parts spark desire, intimacy, and the instinct to bond. But Adam’s first relational impulse is not noble. It is possession: “This is mine.” From there, protection and provision grow—not from pure selflessness, but from a selfish root. Over time, this selfishness was repackaged as a noble duty: men as providers and protectors, women as nurturers and caretakers.

The Feminine Constant

While men wrestled with survival and then possession, women’s primal entry point has always been relationship. She multiplies connection through children, through community, through sustaining bonds. Her form of provision has never been submissive or secondary—it has been the constant flow of life itself.

The Break in the Bargain

In early relational “contracts,” men were expected to provide and protect while women sustained the home and community. But the bargain broke down. Men became absent, abusive, neglectful, or unfaithful. Women adapted because they had to.

They pursued education, secured jobs, bought homes, raised children alone, and became financially independent. Women’s role expanded out of necessity. It was never about rebellion—it was about survival.

Masculine Stagnation

Many men resisted change, clinging to the provider/protector role without actually embodying it. Unlike the original Adam who forged his identity in solitude, modern men were born straight into community. Without rites of passage, rituals, or solitude to shape them, their identity remained weak and reactive.

This stagnation has produced contradictions: men demanding submission while simultaneously expecting women to pay half the bills, stay home, and remain eternally feminine. It has fueled anger, confusion, and in some corners, entire movements built around blaming women.

The Current Crisis

This is why we see so many strained dynamics today. Men want the benefits of Adam-with-Eve but have skipped the necessary foundation of Adam-alone. Without initiation, many lack clarity about who they are. The result? High rates of despair, rising suicide among men, and online communities venting their confusion and resentment toward women.

Meanwhile, women—who want companionship—look at men’s immaturity and conclude that submission to a man-child is unsafe and foolish. Leadership is not automatic; it is earned. A man who proves trustworthy, consistent, and loving will find submission natural, even easy. But no woman should submit to a man who hasn’t earned her trust.

Wasted Masculine Energy

What makes this worse is how men often use their natural drive. Testosterone and aggression are powerful energies meant to build, protect, and create. But too often that energy is wasted online, tearing women down.

Here’s the truth: if your sense of masculinity depends on a woman validating you, that’s not manhood—that’s immaturity. Masculinity isn’t something women bestow. It’s something men must discover within themselves, through their own wilderness.

The Blame Game

From Eden to today, blame-shifting has been the oldest trick in the book. Adam said, “It was the woman you gave me.” Modern men echo the same: “She tempted me, she disrespected me, she made me cheat.”

Generations were taught to excuse men with phrases like “that’s just a man’s nature.” This narrative let men avoid accountability while still claiming authority. The irony is that men created and sold this messaging to themselves. Women weren’t the enemy—men’s avoidance of responsibility was.

Women’s Adaptation

On the other hand, women have consistently evolved. They saw the patterns, adjusted, and kept moving forward. Even under patriarchy, which kept them constrained, women reached for relationship and community.

Every complaint men now make about women—too independent, too masculine, too distrustful—points back to men’s actions. Independence came from men’s failures to provide. Distrust came from abuse and betrayal. Survival forced women into “masculine” roles, not ambition.

The Gamble of Letting Down Walls

Still, there is a cost. The survival roles women stepped into are heavy, and not always natural. Many would gladly set them down—but doing so feels like a gamble. Even when a good man shows up, self-aware and ready for partnership, letting down walls built for survival is terrifying. Vulnerability after trauma doesn’t feel natural; it feels dangerous.

This is where modern relationships get tangled. A man may genuinely want to relate, but a woman is still protecting. He interprets her guard as rejection. She interprets his frustration as pressure. Both feel “out of order.”

The Adjustment Period

This is why American relationships feel so strained right now. We are in an adjustment. Women are unwinding trauma. Men are trying to prove they’re not the men of the past. Both are sincere, but both are impatient with each other.

Women feel rushed. Men feel delayed. She says: “Give me time to heal.” He says: “Don’t punish me for what he did.” Both are right. Both are exhausted.

Seeds of the Solution

• For Men: Stop demanding submission. Earn it with trustworthiness, consistency, and integrity. Learn to be patient. Patience is not weakness—it’s strength.
• For Women: Survival mode was necessary, but it cannot remain permanent. When a safe man proves himself, practice small releases of control. Healing doesn’t mean forgetting the past, but letting the present show up differently.
• For Both: Companionship is not built on pressure. It is built on time. Stop demanding instant transformation and learn to trust the process.

Return to Old-Fashioned Courting

One practical way forward is to revive a simpler approach: dating without expectation. Not rushing to define every interaction, not pushing to secure commitment in the second month. Just practicing the art of being with people again.

Go to group activities—bowling, meetups, community events. Pay your own way, drive yourself, and show up independently. Let the focus be on practicing social skills, flirting, conversation, and fun. Without pressure, genuine connection has room to grow.

If you’ll be alive five years from now, what’s the rush? In five years, you could either be married to someone you’ve truly gotten to know—or still cycling through disappointment because you never slowed down long enough to let anything real take root.

Closing Thoughts

The primal truth hasn’t changed: people want companionship. But selfish roots and survival distortions have left us out of balance. Moving forward requires accountability from men, discernment from women, and patience from both.

When men stand up and take their rightful place in society—not from ego or entitlement, but from love and a true desire to protect—they create stability that everyone can feel. Women, children, and other men begin to trust, and the whole community grows steadier. Unstable men put entire communities on edge, but strong and loving men anchor them.

It is my firm belief that men are meant to lead. Time and again, history shows that when good men take the wheel, they have the power to shift the trajectory. Women can lead, and often have when necessary, but we still live in a society built on masculine power structures. Collectively, we have not yet learned how to trust men and women equally at the wheel. It is simply where we are.

That means the shift must begin with men. When men get real with themselves, hold themselves accountable, and hold each other accountable, the ground beneath us changes. And as that happens, women who long for companionship will, over time, learn to set down their armor. They will rediscover the freedom to flow in their natural space of nurture, companionship, and community.

The balance we’re reaching for isn’t about going backward or denying how far women have come. It’s about men and women stepping into the fullness of their roles, not distorted by selfishness or fear, but refined by accountability and love. If we can move toward that, then the relationships we build will not just serve individuals, but restore stability to the entire community.

Feminine Energy

 

The Cosmic Woman

The Divine Feminine

My introduction to feminine energy as a concept was not through soft platitudes or watered-down clichés, but through the philosophy of yin and yang. I was about eighteen when I first came across it in the writings of Osho. From that point on, my study of spiritual traditions pulled me into encounters with some of the most powerful depictions of the feminine—figures like Kālī Ma, Our Lady of Guadalupe, Pele, La Madama, and María Lionza. What struck me immediately was how imbalanced Western ideas of femininity were by comparison.

Western philosophy—and the cultural traditions that came out of it—tend to acknowledge only one side of the feminine: the “angelic,” fragile, and passive. The strength, ferocity, sensuality, and raw power of women have been demonized or suppressed. Personally, I believe that distortion was deliberate. It was constructed by men who feared the depth of power women carry, and instead of trying to understand it, they reshaped it into the version of femininity they wanted to see: soft, light, nurturing, yielding. In doing so, they cut women into pieces like a puzzle—highlighting vulnerability and self-sacrifice while stripping away the fierce protector, the sensual and sexual being, the channel of life itself.

This is how we ended up with the Western paradox: women were expected to be selfless mothers and pure companions, yet also condemned if they expressed sexual desire or power. Their sensuality was split off into the “whore” category, while their nurturing qualities were elevated into the “Madonna.” The result? A broken model of womanhood, where men excused themselves to seek out sexual satisfaction elsewhere, while devaluing or abusing the women who expressed passion. Meanwhile, those same men gave themselves full permission to be both “good husbands” and cavemen in the bedroom—demanding from women what they refused to honor as sacred in themselves.

This is why I speak up when I hear modern conversations about “feminine energy.” Too often, what people are describing is an unbalanced half-truth, a shallow caricature built from fear and misunderstanding. True feminine energy is not ornamental, submissive, or fragile. It is expansive. It embodies surrender and ferocity, nurturing and protection, softness and fire. To reduce it is to insult not only women, but the very balance of creation itself.

Yin and Yang: A Foundation for Understanding

Before we can talk seriously about feminine energy, we need to return to the foundation: yin and yang. In Taoist philosophy, yin represents the receptive, dark, fluid, feminine principle, while yang represents the active, light, firm, masculine principle. Neither is superior to the other. They are interdependent forces, constantly shifting in balance, each containing a seed of the other.

That small dot in each half of the yin–yang symbol carries a profound truth: the feminine always contains some masculine, and the masculine always contains some feminine. Wholeness comes not from exaggerating one side or suppressing the other, but from recognizing that both are alive within us. Every human being carries yin and yang, feminine and masculine energies, in different measures.

When Western culture speaks about femininity without understanding this, it flattens the concept into weakness, passivity, or subservience. In reality, yin includes mystery, sensuality, protection, and even destruction—qualities that balance and complete creation itself.

Kālī Ma: Fierce Mother of Time

My first true teacher in the divine feminine was Kālī Ma, the Hindu goddess who embodies time, transformation, and fierce motherhood.

Kālī is most often shown with blue-black skin, wild hair, and a garland of severed heads around her neck. In one set of hands she holds a sword and a severed head, representing the destruction of ego and illusion. In another set of hands, she blesses her devotees with fearlessness and protection. She wears a skirt of human arms, symbolizing the dissolution of karma and action. She dances on the chest of her consort, Śiva, whose stillness calms her frenzy.

To the uninitiated, she looks terrifying. But to her devotees, she is mother—protective, fearless, unstoppable. She destroys what binds us, even if it means tearing away the illusions we cling to. When Westerners try to “summon Kali energy” to feel more powerful, they often miss the point: this is not play-acting, this is devotion. To walk with Kālī is to surrender ego and falsehood so that the truth may live.

Her symbolism teaches us that feminine energy is not gentle decoration—it is the cosmic force that births and protects, that destroys illusion so that life can flourish.

Our Lady of Guadalupe: Mother of the Oppressed

Our Lady of Guadalupe is one of the most beloved manifestations of the Virgin Mary, appearing to the Indigenous peasant Juan Diego in 1531 on Tepeyac Hill in Mexico. Unlike the distant, untouchable images of Mary often presented in Europe, Guadalupe came to her people clothed in symbols of both Indigenous and Christian traditions—speaking in Nahuatl, standing atop the crescent moon, wrapped in a cloak of stars.

She has since become more than an image of Catholic devotion: she is a symbol of liberation, protection, and solidarity for the poor, the marginalized, and the colonized. Guadalupe is fiercely maternal, a figure who not only comforts but also empowers her children to resist oppression and hold fast to dignity. For centuries, she has been invoked as both a spiritual mother and a revolutionary presence—her banner carried into battles for independence and justice.

This is the paradox of Guadalupe: she is tender and compassionate, but her presence has also fueled movements of strength and defiance. To love her is to be reminded that the feminine does not merely console—it protects, it labors, it resists, and it carries heavy burdens alongside her people.

Pele: The Fire of Creation and Destruction

From the islands of Hawai‘i comes Pele, goddess of volcanoes, who embodies fire in its dual role: destructive and creative. When lava flows, it burns everything in its path. Yet as it cools, it forms new land—fertile, solid, capable of sustaining life.

This is divine feminine energy in its rawest form: unapologetic, life-giving through destruction. Pele is not asked to be gentle; she is honored as fierce, radiant, and essential. She reminds us that to create, sometimes we must burn away what no longer serves.

La Madama: The Mother Ancestor

In Afro-Caribbean folk traditions, La Madama is the spirit of the wise elder woman, often envisioned as a housekeeper or market worker with apron and broom. She is the embodiment of survival wisdom: practical, tireless, deeply protective.

She is a fierce advocate for families, the household, and the provision and protection of both. Because of these qualities, she is beloved all over the world for her no nonsense enforcement of boundaries, often revealing where boundaries are needed!  The Queen of practical magic.

María Lionza: The Sovereign Queen

In Venezuela, the figure of María Lionza reigns as a spiritual queen. Her mythology blends Indigenous, African, and European influences, creating a figure of mystery and devotion. She represents sovereignty, fertility, beauty, and the deep mysteries of nature.

María Lionza is honored as a unifier of her people, a powerful mother figure whose strength is inseparable from her allure. Again, we see that the divine feminine is not weak—it is sovereign, magnetic, commanding, and protective.

The Thread That Connects Them

Across these cultures, across these traditions, the common thread is unmistakable: the divine feminine is fierce. She is not ornamental. She is not fragile. She is not a half-truth molded for comfort. She is protector, worker, destroyer of illusion, creator of new life.

People love these goddesses and spirits because they are strong, not because they are easy. Their strength inspires devotion because it reflects the reality of life: creation and destruction, nurturing and ferocity, love and fire.

Reclaiming the Fierce Feminine

When modern culture speaks of feminine energy only as softness, yielding, or passivity, it betrays a misunderstanding that has caused centuries of imbalance. True feminine energy is full-spectrum: nurturing and sensual, protective and destructive, expansive and mysterious.

Cultures that knew this honored women as whole beings. They did not try to cut the feminine into acceptable and unacceptable pieces. They bowed to the mother who labors, the goddess who destroys, the queen who rules, the fire that burns, the spirit who protects.

It is time to return to that balance. To remember that yin is not weakness, that the divine feminine is not a decoration, but a force of life and protection. Anything less is a half-truth, and half-truths can not sustain us.

Reading for the Hawaiian Man in Grief

 

“I had a dream vision that you are carrying the weight of a lost love. Whether she has passed recently or some time ago, you are holding that grief as if it is still fresh. It lives in your body, in your spirit, in the way you move through your days.

Your loved one sees you. She looks upon your situation with compassion, not judgment. She wants you to know she is not holding you back. She does not expect you to stay bound to her memory or to keep yourself from finding love again.

But there is a truth in your present moment: the young woman who is close to you now is receiving mixed signals. On one hand, you welcome her comfort. On the other, you know deep down that your heart is not fully free to give her what she truly longs for. Though you do not mean to harm her, the space between your grief and your desire creates confusion.

I was shown that this young woman has already shown you her care. There was a moment where you left yourself vulnerable — open to being taken advantage of — and her presence offered a protective energy around you. She interceded, whether you realized it or not, and because of that your well-being was preserved. That was not the act of someone using you; it was the act of someone who cares.

That is why it is important not to play with her heart. Be honest. Walk in the integrity that defines you. Because if you remain in the middle ground — grieving one love while leaning on another — it will look and feel like games. And that is not who you are, nor the reputation you want attached to your name.

The most loving protection you can offer — to yourself, to the woman you lost, and to the young woman before you — is to honor your grief fully. Allow yourself the time and the space to mourn, without rushing or pushing yourself to “get over it.” Grief has its own seasons, and it cannot be forced.

When you have walked more of that path and your heart has healed further, you will be ready to step into love again with clarity and honesty. Then, your presence will not be divided, and your affection will not carry the shadow of loss.

This is not about denying yourself comfort, but about choosing integrity. It is about giving yourself the gift of wholeness before asking someone else to build a future with you. By doing so, you honor the woman you loved, you protect the heart of the woman who cares for you now, and you return to yourself with strength.” -  es