It feels silly to say that I’ve been hiding.
I am not locked inside my house.
I go to the gym. I go to trapeze practice.
I see people. I speak to people.
I am not a recluse.
I publish a daily blog, to a public website.
Tens of thousands of people read my work.
After a long hiatus, I’ve even started to post again to social media.
And, yet, even in public, I’ve been hiding.
It’s the magician’s greatest trick. Act like you are revealing what is happening even as you hide what you’re really doing.
We are all magicians, in some way.
Even the most prolific creators, the most visible people in the physical and virtual social arenas, share only what they want us to see. Whatever you think you know of anyone who has a public persona is only a part of who they are.
We live in a world of curation and cultivation; every image, every word, carefully selected to create an impression, to sell you something — even if that something is only a story that the person wants you to believe.
And even within that context, I’ve been hiding.
I’ve spent a lifetime learning how to hide my challenges and difficulties under the veil of achievements, self-deprecation, and advice to others.
I’ve mastered the skill at making it look like I’ve got my shit together.
People believe me.
And the more they believe in the facade I offer, the more I feel like a con artist of the highest order.
This causes me to hide more.
It’s a vicious cycle.
Existential Homelessness
I’ve spent almost 5 years living the “digital nomad” life, an adventure I’ve called “home-free.”
The truth is, I’ve spent most of my life feeling home-less.
Not in the sense of a physical home, but in the sense of an emotional and social and psychological home.
A support network.
A group of people to lean on.
A place where I feel safe to be who I am.
I can fit in everywhere, but I’ve never yet found a true sense of belonging anywhere, because I’m afraid to be seen.
So even as I show up in life, even when I’ve been visible and vocal, I’ve often felt invisible.
A big part of my journey over the past 5 years has been about defining for myself “what is home?”
I think I’ve landed on a definition:
Home is where I feel safe to be seen. It’s where I feel safe to be visible. Even in my vulnerability, in the challenges I face, in my rawest moments.
This concept of home, might, on the surface, seem to be a separate issue. But it’s inextricably linked to visibility.
Without this home, without the spaces in our world where we feel safe to be seen, where we feel a sense of belonging, it’s even more challenging to put ourselves and our work out into the world.
The Power of Visibility
In brief moments when I have summoned the courage to be visible in my most vulnerable places, I’ve experienced the way this can be transformative.
It’s like the doors that I’ve been standing in front of, desperately banging my head on, suddenly open.
Not by magic, but by power.
The power of deep resonance.
The power of connection.
The power of embodied alignment.
The Fear
On the other side of this equation is a deep rooted fear of visibility. Especially in my vulnerability.
I’ve been working, layer by layer, to unpack that fear: both the risks and the consequences.
Part of it is rooted in beliefs that have been deeply conditioned for decades and reinforced by environment and culture.
Stories that people will take advantage of my openness, that people won’t like me, won’t want to work with me, won’t respect me if I dare to speak my truth and share my perspective in my way.
Stories about the way I need to look, the way my work must appear.
Some of those beliefs are so deeply entrenched that they live beyond the cognitive realm. They have taken up residence in my nervous system, expressing themselves through sensation, and, often, paralysis.
At this level, affirmations and mantras alone aren’t enough.
Each time I come close to stepping into greater visibility for the things that matter most, my system shuts down on me.
Throat closes. Feet anchor. Knees stop moving. Shoulders tighten. Belly contracts. A heaviness descends. My body goes into freeze mode. My words escape me.
In fear, action becomes impossible.
Moving With the Fear
And yet I believe that if I can find just an ounce of safety, I can start to free myself from the chains of fear.
The fear will not completely dissipate right away, but with small steps it becomes a load I can carry.
This is what I practice in the gym and on the yoga mat and with every piece of work I publish.
Walking, squatting, pulling and pushing with heavy weights. Finding flow and grace even in stiffness. Hitting publish on the essays that feel the most raw and incoherent.
This isn’t just “practice.” It’s training. Building the strength and the resources to create my own safety. Learning to listen to myself first, and to trust my inner wisdom.
Through practice and training, I have learned that the fear doesn’t need to paralyze me.
I can move with this fear. I can carry the weight of it.
And yet even this training and practice is behind-the-scenes, largely unseen. For it to translate into new beliefs requires taking the next steps.
My next step is to make that work more visible.
Bringing Light to What’s Hidden
There’s no shortcut here; no magic we can perform in isolation that will suddenly make it easier to step into the spotlight.
The only way to heal the wounds that create fear of visibility is by being visible.
The wounds that keep us in hiding are wounds we incurred in private. They are shrouded in shame, masked in false bravado and deflection, left to fester in the shadows.
The only way to heal them is by putting them into the light.
This is healing work of the highest order. It’s work we can only do on our own, but must do in community, in collaboration, and with the structure of a container that can hold us through the process and help us feel safe.
The Work of Venus Retrograde in Leo
This is the core work of Venus retrograde in Leo.
Unpacking the stories and beliefs that keep us from claiming our spotlight. Shining a light on the standards and expectations we are living within that keep us in hiding. Looking at the wounds that have brought us to this place.
And finding a path to healing by making the invisible visible and claiming our place in the spotlight.
The Revolutionary Acts of Visibility: A Mission
Revealing fundamental truths.
Sharing the reality of our experiences.
Illuminating what is in our collective shadow.
These acts are revolutionary.
They cut through the noise of the chatter and slice through the veils of confusion to pierce the hearts of those who can appreciate them.
Which is not everyone.
But I’m not looking for everyone.
I’m seeking the tribe where I belong.
The home where I feel safe to be seen. The environments and containers where I feel safe to show up with all of my conflicting and contradictory parts.
I am no longer seeking. I am creating it.
A place for belonging. A place where it is safe to explore and be who you are. A place where we can come home to safety, to root so we can rise together.
It’s shape and form, are yet unknown, but it is birthing into being with every daring step into the light.
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