But somehow talking about my grandparents’ visit that weekend soon evolved into an elaborate fantasy. Included in the story was a magical theme park with roller coasters and colorful cotton candy. Something also about a moon car, some breakdancers, a hero, a villain and some farm animals that flew. I remember the exact feeling of expanding my imagination. I can see myself sitting in the backseat, time moving slowly as if in a dream, my little jewish hands gesticulating and my big eyes getting bigger and bigger. 

Then I stopped talking. I felt the weighted space. Anticipation. And the Mom responded.

It doesn’t matter what she said, a question or a statement. What matters is she honored my story. And that was it. I knew that she knew it wasn’t true. It wasn’t the only time I would go off the rails in life and I could feel that kind of embarrassment again. But what I felt was held.

I felt heard. Her simplicity and sophistication at the same time both forgave me for lying and called me out. She modeled magic and devotion. Power and humility.

That merciful response told me that I was allowed to try. That I was allowed to make mistakes. That I would not be punished for vulnerability.

I knew that at 8 years old. I became a devoted storyteller, as an actor, writer and eventually a spiritual educator. It made that kind of impression on me. And she was not a teacher, I don’t even know which Mom she was. She was just a Healer.

Lies are everywhere. Big and small. Cultural, generational, traumatized or complementary. Story is part of how we relate with the material energy.  Sometimes as a lie. The world gives us passion, ignorance, and goodness to relate to.

We need to use discernment. We need to use our intelligence wisely.

This is spirituality. Not perfection.

I don’t know what tools she used or what team she had, if she believed in Hebrew School or was just there for the donuts.  I don’t know if she was abused or in therapy, married or widowed. Her choice in that moment was expertly executed in a vulnerable power and grace that communicated she was a leader, a healer and certainly a humble seeker. 

It was blissful. And everyone can learn how to do this.

Radical authenticity is the gateway for serving. Every soul needs to learn real tools that teach you how to decide in a split second how to ask for clarification, funnel psychic information, and/or communicate without re-traumatizing. That is healing your family’s pain. 

That is ancestral alchemy.

In clarity, flow and love,