Sanctuary for the Misfits of God Podcast

Becoming Home: What Happens When Life Takes Away Every Place You Hide

Turns Out I’m a Renunciate Afterall The themes of this essay were rooted in such intense emotional breaking open, so it’s odd to be sitting here threading it together from a place of ease and peace. The intense emotional openings are the quilt pieces of a blanket and the peace is the thread integrating it all. The calm after the storm. My last Sanctuary writings were over a month ago. During that time I was dealing with some demons like addiction. Much has shifted since then. Paid members have been receiving their Living Rhythm Lanterns so they know a bit more of what’s going on. Over a month ago I returned home to NM for what was supposed to be a few days. I was coming to support as my dad entered into Hospice care. I had no idea what I was actually stepping into. We found out my dad would require 24/7 care and a home was not an option. Long story short, I found myself opting into something I never thought I’d say yes to. Full-time caretaking. This was my core fear. To be limited and chained down by someone else’s needs. Especially someone that I had judged for a lifetime around how they chose to not take care of themselves nor “live” life the way I thought a life should be lived. My greatest fears were knocking on my door and it was time to answer the call. The past six weeks have been humbling. I’ve had to face my ego, my self-righteousness, my anger, my resentment, and my deepest wounding head on. It’s mirrored to me every day. Everytime I try to hold a “boundary” I feel like life chuckles and breaks me open again. Like my father refusing to accept his fate of dying, I was refusing to face my fate of caretaking. And I was broken… open… wide. Caretaking my father has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done and it’s been the most beautiful gift I never would have asked for. Relationship dynamics in my family are complicated to say the least and I’m having to face every single wound I have. I’m having to be humbled. I’m having to forgive and let go. I’m having to face the absolutely imperfection of everyone and everything… making it all feel almost… perfect. Every time I want to judge or hold resentment, I’m immediately mirrored where I’m doing the exact same thing. I feel like Ma is pulling the strings and I’m the puppet and she’s telling me… let it all go… surrender… break open wide to life… dare to love everything and everyone. Dare to have your heart shattered and shredded so I can enter it. So I can become it. The path is grueling. Not because it requires walls and fighting and weapons. It’s grueling because it requires me to continuously challenge my walls and my weapons. What is it I think I’m fighting? Who is it I think is the enemy? I’m starting to see how loving boldly, forgiving constantly, and opening endlessly is the most courageous path someone could walk. I feel like I’m constantly handing my heart over and saying… “here, break it open, hurt it, make it bleed… so I can learn to love even deeper, even freer, even more unconditionally.” My whole life I’ve been trying to understand who I am in this world and what is my path. Am I running away from the world to sit in a cave and just be with God, or am I diving into life and serving God in that way? Back and forth I’ve gone, over and over again. But now I think I’m starting to see that I will never live in one world or the other. I’m a renunciate in the world. I never understood this calling to renunciation until I was reading the book, The Wisdom of No Escape, by Pema Chodron. She quotes: “Renunciation is seeing clearly how we hold back, how we pull away, how we shut down, how we close off, and then learning how to open.” – Pema Chodron My mind was blown. I am a renunciate because I am on the path to renunciating a closed heart, walled off emotions, shutting down, refusing community and connection. I’m a renunciate because I’m devoted to a life of a broken open heart. My work is to deny the closure. The shutting down. The holding back. It’s the hardest work I ever could have signed up for. The Stories We Use to Escape So as I do this work of renunciation, I’m having to see all the ways I pull away. In Lantern 8 of the Living Rhythm I wrote about the suffering of the mind. How suffering truly is the way to freedom and our mind is the key to it all. For me suffering has often been linked to freedom. Or I should say, it has been linked to what I was perceiving as freedom. More on this later… Being back in NM, living back at my childhood home, and doing full-time caretaking is like my own personal hell. It is probably what I would have designed if someone asked me to design hell for myself. I know that sounds dramatic… hello, do you know me?... but it’s true. Maybe for some people hell is fire and demons and whips and I don’t know what else. But for me, hell is facing everything I spent a lifetime running from. I spent a huge part of these six weeks suffering in my wounds, my victim, and my resistance to what life was wanting to break open in me. I told myself I was here out of integrity, not love. I was just doing what was right. While that was true… there was something much bigger brewing underneath. The truth I didn’t want to face in this decision to come home was daring to open my heart to my family again. To do the work required to feel empathy for a tribe that I often felt like an alien to. To forgive a mother who loved me deeply and selfishly. To love a father who was always there and yet always emotionally absent. I didn’t want to come here because I didn’t want to fall in love again. With my family, with this desert I call home, and with this little girl who long ago swore she’d never feel the depths of pain she felt the day the world stopped making sense. My entire life I’d been told how grateful I should be that I was adopted. While I understand where this thinking comes from, and while I can agree with the basic truth behind it, there was always something no one ever wanted to allow… The truth is that I was still a newborn soul wanting its mother to choose her and no matter how good my life turned out, I probably still would have chosen her…. HER.. Her. So I came home to face the true wound… the mother wound. The reality that I have been trying to fill the hole of a heart that was pouring blood from the moment it was born. The tears I’ve cried have always originated from a baby who was reaching out for its mother. The nervous system it spent nine months getting to know. The womb I first learned was safety… regardless of how others judged it from the outside. I wanted Her. I’ve always been seeking Her. I loved Her. Even typing this now, I can feel the knot in my stomach and the clench of a little girl who’s afraid to cause pain. To hurt my family who raised me. To hurt the mother that one day might read this. To dare to imply that I’m not grateful for the life I was given. I am. I am all of it. I wouldn’t be who I am today without my family. I wouldn’t be who I am without being given up. It’s the grand parody of life. My deepest pain is bringing me home to the deepest love of my life… my real home… ME. The Cost of Staying “A Person who does not acquit himself with a cheerful heart of whatever responsibility that may fall to his lot at any time, for the love of God will find life excessively burdened and will never be able to accomplish anything. Man’s duty - more especially for those who have made the Supreme Quest there one and only aim - is to work joyfully for the upliftment of the world, with the conviction that all service is His service. Work done in such a spirit helps to purify both mind and heart.” – Anandamayi Ma In Lantern 9 I wrote about the cost of staying in situations, places, and circumstances that are out of alignment. I had intended to expand upon that now. To talk about the many times I found myself taking huge leaps and then collapsing into fear and comfort. Time and time again, this was what I’d do. I was going to write more about how I could see my inability to withstand the level of discipline and mastery my life was asking of me. Which is true. I am seeing a need for refinement. How choosing the hard today will save so much hard tomorrow and the next day. But I’ve also softened a bit. My heart has once again been broken open. So I’m sitting here wondering what the integrated message is. Because I’ve lived these moments where I was either staying to hide or I was running from the stay. So which way is “right?” When I say I would stay to hide, there are many times in my life where I would take a huge leap to go after this bigger self, and then about a few weeks in, the reality of what this vision requires would land, and I would often find a way to collapse (hello alcohol), or hide (hello relationship). I would get myself completely entangled in these circumstances that were accepted by society, but so opposing to what I truly wanted. I’d often find myself in a relationship, maybe buying a house, maybe getting married, and typically working in a passionless job. I would hide. Then eventually my soul would get restless, start longing for the deeper vision again and poof, I’d run as fast as I could. I’d run to a new state, a new country, a new job, or a new partner. Sometimes, I’d run to all of them at once. I’d take the big leap, find myself in a relationship hiding again, miserable again, compromising again, finding excuses again. Then I’d blow it all up. Cycle after cycle. Medicine changed that… somewhat. So now I’m here realizing the cycle, knowing I must choose differently. But what does different mean? What does an integrated path of leaping look like with love, discipline, and self-mastery fueling it? Two weeks ago I was ready to blow it all up again. I had already started. I was ready to move west, leave CO, cut ties, start afresh. But a bigger me has already begun to birth. So I had to stop and ask myself… What am I running from? What am I afraid of? What am I trying to hide from? Just like coming home to my family, the answer was the same… love. It requires so much work. So much vulnerability. So much showing up, forgiving, and letting people love me. So much learning how to love them… crazy, wild, human, and messy them. I was trying to run from the action of loving. Repairing, showing up, returning, and letting them get to know the me that would be coming home. The Cost of Wildness In Lantern 10 I talked about wildness and the cost it comes with. How I started to realize that I desired a feral life that was hard to put into words. I say feral because when I feel into it, that’s what it feels like. You can’t pin it down, you can’t capture it, and you can’t cage it. I talked about the recognition of choosing cages to keep me one step away from the wild life I desired. How I would purposely get myself caged into relationships (all types) and then be resentful for not feeling “free” within them. But this was the game. The cage kept me distracted and able to avoid the reality beneath it. I was terrified to live the life that was calling me and I didn’t trust I could survive it. I was seeking shelter, food, love, comfort, and warmth everywhere outside myself because I didn’t trust myself to provide it. And I gave myself plenty of proof to not trust. But here we are again, a softer perspective, a more integrated view. I’m sitting here now wondering… What does a feral life look like when it’s infused with love, community, responsibility, and self-mastery? What does a future vision embody when it’s no longer anchored in being alone? The lone wolf. The abandoned one. The outsider. I want to bring the wild into this world. I want to be feral living amongst the domesticated. I want to find a home where there is always a window left open because everyone knows a bird must fly freely. Becoming Home That leads to one place and one place only. I must become… I am becoming… the home I was seeking all along. People often ask me what my name means. What’s funny is I didn’t choose it and I certainly didn’t know what it meant when I was initiated into it. Saisha means the Ruler of the Inner Goddess. Ma is my commitment to Anandamayi Ma and being her disciple for eternity. But in a new translation that feels more accurate to me… I am the mother forever guiding the Ruling of the Inner Goddess. The child who was always reaching for its mother… is becoming Her… HER… MA. Walking the Sacred Edge, Saisha Ma The Living Rhythm Subscription If you’ve found yourself in these words, much of what I’ve been writing about lately has been unfolding inside the Living Rhythm. The Lanterns are not really teachings. They’re companions for the dark nights, the thresholds, the breaking apart, and the remembering. They’re the conversations I wish someone had with me when life felt impossible. Paid members have access to the full Living Rhythm journey, the Lantern recordings, reflections, and the deeper circles of the Sanctuary. Wherever you find yourself, I’m grateful you’re here. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sanctuaryforthemisfitsofgod.substack.com/subscribe [https://sanctuaryforthemisfitsofgod.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

Honest Thoughts from Within The Cravings of Addiction

Welcome back to the Sanctuary for the Misfits of God with Saisha Ma. Today, I am recording this in a place that I have never really been willing to record from. The sacred edge of choice… of addiction. That point where my skin is crawling and everything inside me wants to disappear into a bottle. Everything inside me wants relief. Everything inside me wants to just make that choice one more time. Just one more moment of relief. When life just kind of feels too... feely. Too real, maybe, too impossible. The day actually started out really strong. I didn’t wake up early, but I did immediately kind of move into some sacred practices, and connection by way of showing up for someone else, and going out into nature. It was a beautiful sunny day in the beginning, and just as the weather shifted into more cloudy and stormy weather, so did my internal climate. Then an old visitor came to visit, and it’s one that I say I’m done with, and yet still kind of like when this one comes knocking at my door. This little dance I do with alcohol. Throughout my life, I’ve loved it, and hated it, and quit many times. And when I say quit, I mean I’ve quit for a number of years at a time. Every time I think I’m really done with it, it tends to just kind of come back and prove me wrong. This is probably the most awareness I’ve ever had in this dance for sure, but it doesn’t feel any less overpowering. It doesn’t feel any less medicating. It is amazing to me that I could do the amount of psychedelic medicine that I’ve done for the extensive period of time that I’ve done it and still do this dance. The amount of self-development work that I’ve done, the amount of courses and workshops. Trying to step into this, I don’t know, better person, better version, higher vision, whatever it is. Yet to still be sitting with the same longings, the same desires, the same hungers that have been present in my life for as long as I can remember. I was just curious what would happen if I actually recorded from the inside of one of those deep desires. From a point where I actually don’t know what I’m going to choose. At the end of all of this, I don’t know if I’m going to be able or even want to say… no more not today not one last time Because I think that’s the ever lurking promise, right, of these cravings, of these addictions. They say just one more time. Just that one last dance together. That one last numbing, That one last moment of relief, That promise of, “we’ll just have one more good night together.” And it’s funny, because as I say this, I think of all the moments that we encounter this. It’s not even just with “bad things”, right? I do this dance with psychedelic medicine, you know? I still have that urge for that one last experience. That one last touching of the gods. It’s so sweet, and... one last time with a partner that you know is wrong for you. I’ve done that plenty in relationships where it’s just kind of like, let me just try this one last time. Really, like, squeeze that one last juice out of what’s here, which is already a dead situation. When I look back on those moments, you know, something’s already decaying and we’re trying to have one last moment with it. And I know all the right things to do. You know, I intentionally forced myself to watch a video that wasn’t very resonant, but it was all about the damage of alcohol, why we shouldn’t drink it. And for some reason, for me, when I listen to these things sometimes and I’m in the middle of the urge, it just makes me want it more. And I look at myself and I question, Why is it that I can know the full consequences of something and still actually want to dance with it? I say, well, not me. I’ll get out. I’ll get out before it really hurts me. And the consequences for me haven’t been all that bad if I really think about it. But when I look at my life right now, I have to ask, is that really true? The Hunger Beneath It And I have to look at this even in the container of a beautiful process like ayahuasca and sitting in ceremony and being in community. I was doing what I thought at the time was this amazing, incredible, service work. But I knew at a certain point of medicine that I was really destroying my life. And maybe there was a part of me that needed to do that clearly because I did it. But, through that entire adventure, there was this lie being told. I’m special. I’m different, and this is what should be happening I don’t know, these stories we tell ourselves about who we are, and why it’s okay for us. To some degree, I feel like this is like the core of the rebel. This is like the core of that rebel aspect. The rules are different for me When I look at my life and where it’s at, I can absolutely see the beauty and the perfection of where I stand. Because that’s all creation can be, and in my opinion it is perfect. Perfectly teaching Perfectly destroying Perfectly evolving But there’s been some major consequences because I’m still not really wanting to own this human experience. I’m still not fully engaged in walking my brothers and sisters home. Or allowing them to do the same for me, to the degree that my soul is longing for. When I was sitting with this deep craving, I was sitting with Rapeh, and my body, and movement, and a curiosity of… What is this addictive hunger really about? Why do I always feel so hungry in life? Why am I clinging to so many things, grasping at so many things, getting involved in so many things, and none of it really feels quenching? It just gives me a quick hit, but then I’m still there feeling lost in the next moment. Or I feel dreadful about life in the next moment when I really have to sit down and create something or sit down and know what I’m doing with myself. I think I just have this really deep fear of the hunger I have for life, of the hunger of what I want to accomplish and the bigness of it. Not bigness as in, I’m here to do something great. It’s not even that. It’s like, wow, my life force energy is consuming and it’s a lot and it has so much it wants to do. I’m terrified. I’m terrified of what my life force wants to do, because it feels like a lot, and I guess little me is really questioning if I’m capable of what my life force longs for. I’m terrified of who I have to become in order to give it what it’s seeking. I know this has nothing to do with a role or this idea of impact even necessarily. I know enough now that all of the ideals of becoming who we’re supposed to be or this higher version, or fixing ourselves in some ways is just a complete joke of a hunt. We’ve had what we are looking for the whole time. It was right there, right? As Gangaji says, “the diamonds in our pocket.” The diamond is consciousness. It is us. There’s nothing to seek for. There’s nothing you can find because it’s ungraspable and I understand all of this. So it’s more about getting in my own way or intentionally blocking what wants to just naturally come through. It’s interesting to feel how it was actually the hope in my day today, the excitement of life feeling so great, and feeling excited to be alive, that led to the first thought of alcohol. There is this linkage between what wants to become, and this imprinting of destabilization. Just a deep fear of raw life energy consistently pulsating through my body. I’m sitting here with an internal family systems therapy for addictions book in front of me. I have all these new books I just recently got. Some focused on addiction, some focused on learning yoga deeply, some focused on untethering and letting the mind fall away. Yet the addiction craving is here in the space amongst all of it. It’s still here knocking on the door. Still here wanting to claw its way in. Giving this sweet promise of release, laughter, and not caring for a few hours. Even at the cost of being tired tomorrow, being less present tomorrow, being foggy tomorrow. Sitting With What Is Here I don’t know why I got on to record this. I just felt like it was necessary to actually offer something out there that speaks from the space of craving and addiction without trying to fix it or solve it. To not know what to do with it. Because I feel like so often that’s how we or I handle everything. When I’m struggling and I want out of this struggle or I’m depressed and I don’t want to feel depressed anymore. I’m sad and I don’t want to feel sad anymore. So we go seeking and either we’re the person telling people how to not be sad anymore. We’re the people telling others how not to be depressed anymore. Or we’re the one seeking someone telling us how to not feel this anymore. And that, for me, just isn’t really cutting it these days. Often, what’s been really teaching me is when I’m not trying to be anything more than what’s in the moment. What happens when I face that big, deep thing that feels so hard to face, and what if I just sit with this hunger? Of addiction What if I sit with this longing and desire? What if I look at my life and see how much desire runs it? From one moment to the next I’m desiring something. I’m desiring purpose I’m desiring ease I’m desiring a high or a dopamine hit, I’m desiring my life to feel a little exciting in that moment I’m desiring sex I’m desiring connection, I’’m desiring feeling important and feeling needed. It’s just one after the other. If I look at my life, it’s basically just a trail of desire. I know there’s no way out of this. That there’s not this place and space where desire no longer lives. Maybe there’s a place where desire no longer runs me. The thing I know clearly at this point is that this is not about getting rid of it all. I do think that there is something magical about just allowing it, witnessing it. Facing it. letting ourselves be curious of what’s within or underneath it. I guess that’s the question of the day. What is within or underneath this? This hunger and this desire to feel relief. To feel like I can access a sense of everything being okay in this moment. I’m seeking it through liquid form. Or... the naughtiness of not having to be responsible for one more night. Or when it comes to food, just the comfort of this friend that never lets me down. It’s heavy, and it’s... sticky, and it’s... oily, and in a way, it allows me to pull myself down into a sensation or a frequency in my body that actually feels much more comfortable than lightness, than calmness, than clarity. More and more, I am really starting to see how my constant being lost is my way of staying lost. That when I can distract myself and spiral myself and keep doing things that remind me how undeserving I am of this thing I’m trying to do, then it just allows me to stay more lost. It gives me all the validation I need to see why I can’t complete this thing that some part of me is wanting to birth and bring into this world. I really do believe that quote, “if you want something different, then you have to do something different.” For me, doing something different is actually speaking out loud what’s here, to an audience. To a group of people that I massively respect and that I want respect from. To those who maybe have an idea of who I am or who I should be because of the work I’m trying to create in this world. So I just have to be real about who I actually am in this work and in what I’m trying to create in this world. There is a constant humbling of humanness. The reality that I will probably always let people who look up to me down. This recognition that I am way more committed to the truth than I am to not letting people down. I am way more committed to realness, to honesty, to being a light within the darkness. That means being in that darkness with you, and that means showing those ugly, vulnerable parts. At the cost of anything. There’s a part of me that wonders if I’ll ever be able to move through this stuff in a more grounded, healthy way. In a way, I kind of have to be in all of this to actually do the work I feel I’m here to do. The Cross and the Lantern But I guess that’s what I surrendered to. I’ve really been working with this concept of Jesus and Jesus on the cross. How even he, as God’s son, had to face persecution, betrayal from his closest disciples, and judgement of people who didn’t understand what he was trying to do. Even though he didn’t want to do it either, and he prayed that this not be his fate, he got on that cross, and he showed us how to suffer. He showed us how to die to our ideas of who we are. He showed us how to be resurrected to what wants to become reborn within us. More and more, I’m understanding I made vows to life and vows to God in a way that said I’m willing. I’m willing to be your child that gets up on that cross. I’m willing to be persecuted I’m willing to be betrayed I’m willing to die to who I think I am in order to be resurrected into whatever wants to be reborn I guess that’s what I want to remind others of who feel like they’re on that cross. Who feel they’re in that persecution. They’re in that betrayal. Those who are terrified of dying to everything they think they are. We’re all gonna make it to the other side, into that resurrection. One moment at a time, one day at a time, one choice at a time. So I will leave this here for those of you who are maybe in a moment very similar. It sucks. But we’re gonna make it to the other side. Wishing you some grace. Wishing you some clarity. Wishing you some courage. May we all be lanterns to one another when we need it the most. Walking the Sacred Edge, Saisha Ma This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sanctuaryforthemisfitsofgod.substack.com/subscribe [https://sanctuaryforthemisfitsofgod.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

The Freedom of Untethering

Hello everyone. Welcome to the Sanctuary with Saisha Ma. I was not planning on sending something today, mainly because it’s been an interesting day and I’m in an interesting space right now. For whatever reason, I still think that I have to be in a certain frequency or a certain ability or permission. Like I need to be something for whoever is listening or reading what I put out. And I’m currently going through a very deep untethering, is what I will call it. I’m doing the work of Gangaji right now. For those of you who aren’t familiar, her work is in the realms of Ramana Maharshi. And for those of you who aren’t familiar with him, it’s kind of the world of self-inquiry and sort of letting everything go. Ramana Maharshi was known for being a guru in India, and thousands and probably millions of people went to see him. But he was a unique guru because he refused to teach anything. He actually rarely even spoke. Many of his disciples tried to get teachings from him, but his only teaching was to be in his presence. That was all you needed. Presence. He carried the presence of awakening because he had awakened to the truth, and so people would simply sit there with him in stillness and silence. I never understood this. I have followed some of his work and done some self-inquiry, which is actually very powerful, but I could never understand it when I first came across these teachings. What could just sitting there possibly teach you? What could stillness actually do? Gangaji comes from this lineage. Her teacher was a disciple of Ramana, and her work is all about letting it go. I encountered her work many years ago, but I haven’t been able to sit with it for long term. I understand why now. I’m finally sitting with it because I’m finally willing. I’m finally willing to go this deep into what it means to let go and surrender, and what that really asks of us. And I felt the urge to talk about this journey because the world is so loud right now. It’s loud with ego, with identity, with control, domination, and power. With the United States especially, we often believe we are so right. We believe in what we’ve created, in our technology, our intelligence, our advancement. I’m not saying everyone believes this, because I do think there are many people working to become humbled and collaborative and in union with life again. But it’s hard to deny where we came from. A culture of domination. A culture of power. And it feels really real right now how difficult it is to step away from the idea that we even know who we’re supposed to be. We created this path where we convinced ourselves that we knew the answers, that somehow we knew better than the greater source that created everything. We’ve been playing God for many years. We decided when we would eat. We didn’t want to be hunters or gatherers anymore. We didn’t want to live at the whim of the earth or weather. We took control. We broke the system. We cheated the game. And we celebrated it. We looked at cultures that held ancient wisdom and lineage and called them third world. Less civilized. Beneath us. But when I look at where we are now, I wonder if we can even see our own demise. I wonder if we can see how much we’re driving ourselves into the ground. Because we believed our own lie. And now we are so far into that lie that it’s hard to admit the truth of it. Watching My Own War Within As I sit with all of this, I’m also witnessing the war inside myself. How much energy I give to resistance, to fear, to domination and control. How much energy goes toward not wanting to feel threatened or small. As I’m doing Gangaji’s work, reading her book, listening to her recordings, and putting myself in this teaching over and over again, it’s really confronting my ego. My ego wants to cling and grasp and say, “No, this is who I am. I need my mind. My mind is everything.” It says I can’t let my thoughts stop. I can’t turn off the mind. And yet when I allow myself to be vulnerable enough to not know, when I let my identities loosen just a little, there’s this small window where everything softens. There’s relief. It starts to feel like maybe life isn’t about changing anything. Maybe it’s not about becoming someone different or forcing some spiritual awakening. Maybe awakening is simply this moment right here. This world exactly as it is. The suffering, the pain, the laughter, the sorrow. Not conceptually embracing it, but realizing that this is what awakening actually is. There is no secret. No perfect world waiting somewhere else. No utopia that will finally arrive. This is it. The Stories We Carry I noticed this today when I was ruminating about what I should be putting out. I’ve also been applying for jobs, and I’ve been strangely resistant to that. And that resistance helped me see something. The only reason I’m bothered by it is because I have beliefs about who I am supposed to be. I have a belief about myself as this rebel free being serving the world in a certain way. And somehow that belief got tangled with the idea that I shouldn’t just go get a job if I need one. But when I let that identity go, it doesn’t really matter. What’s fascinating is that I’m reconnecting with a very deep passion for working with youth. I just want to be around teenagers. I’ve been applying to jobs that would allow me to do that, and something inside me feels really excited about it. When I drop the identity story, it becomes simple. I’m just a soul applying for jobs with teens because that sounds joyful and meaningful. And at the same time, I’m still a soul building the Sanctuary. I don’t know what it’s going to become, and I’m realizing I don’t actually need to know. Maybe it becomes weekly talks. Maybe writing. Maybe circles. It doesn’t need to become some massive thing for me to be worthy in this work. And in the meantime, I can have a job. I can support my partner. I can care for our animals and our home. It’s fascinating to watch how trapped the mind makes us. We say we want freedom, but we worship our minds. We believe everything it says. We identify with every thought and every emotion. We say “I am angry” instead of noticing that anger is simply moving through us. And then we spiral deeper into the thought and the emotion until it becomes our identity. The Addiction to Suffering All of this connects to something else I’ve been exploring deeply: the addiction to suffering. We say we are tired of suffering, but we behave in ways that guarantee we will suffer. We ruminate. We hold onto stories and beliefs because they are so emotionally powerful. They are juicy. And we rarely ask ourselves why we are unwilling to let them go. Why do we think someone needs to see us or validate us? What is underneath that? When I look at myself honestly, I can see that desire to be seen. To be validated. And underneath it is simply the ego wanting to feel important. Even the stories we hold about our inner child eventually become identities we cling to. And at some point we have to ask: when is it time to let those stories end? When is it time to let the inner child be free? The Comical Truth Today I did an exercise from Gangaji where you list the ways you identify yourself and the ways others identify you. And it was hilarious. For every identity there was an opposite. Some people think I’m amazing. Some people think I’m a complete a*****e. Some people think I’m wise and grounded. Others think I’m sharp or mean. I’ve spent so much energy trying to hold onto the good identities and reject the bad ones. But when I really looked at the list, none of it was actually true. They’re all projections. We project onto each other constantly depending on our needs, moods, and perceptions. One day someone seems wonderful, the next day they seem unbearable. And suddenly I found myself asking: why have I been believing any of this? Why believe the good or the bad? Why not simply witness it? Because all of it is temporary. Happiness is temporary. Sadness is temporary. Anger is temporary. Bliss is temporary. That’s the joke. There is nothing we get to cling to. The Freedom That Was Always Here I’ve spent my whole life fighting for freedom. And it’s funny to realize that freedom was always here. I can’t cling to my freedom because the moment I cling to it, it traps me. And no one can cling to me either. Because I am already free. I didn’t know what I was coming on here to say. I just followed the vulnerability of not knowing. Maybe this resonates with some of you. Maybe it doesn’t. But this is my offering today. I’ll continue to share as this unfolds. The next Living Rhythm lantern will likely come through in the next few days. Until then, I’m happy to be here and happy to walk the sacred edge with you all. Saisha MaSanctuary for the Misfits of God This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sanctuaryforthemisfitsofgod.substack.com/subscribe [https://sanctuaryforthemisfitsofgod.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

The Truth That Sets You Free If You’re Willing To Speak It

As I was preparing to create my next iteration for The Living Rhythm, I found myself moving through a common pattern I experience when preparing content. This happens especially when I’m feeling a lot of responsibility or shame over having not produced “enough.” This pattern begins with a deep craving to get some greasy food or do something excitingly “bad.” Often I push these thoughts away while shaming them. Sometimes I get up and follow the urge. Recently I’ve reconnected to the work of GangaJi, a guide for those seeking to let go of everything they’ve known about themselves. I decided to try one of her self-inquiry prompts, “what’s here.” I just decided to sit with these cravings and uncomfortable feelings and write down what was right here. I Wrote Without A Story. Some resistance. Some force. Some tiredness. Some care. Some lack of care. Some Peace. Some desire. Some cravings. I could see how what all of these words were pointing to was a heaviness around responsibility. This idea or story of responsibility I was holding over what I “should” be creating for the Sanctuary. As I was exploring this feeling of responsibility, I felt called to do another exercise prompted by GangaJi. Truth telling. Not the kind of truthtelling that makes me feel good, but the real, raw truth-telling. It was time I took a good look at my day/s, where I spent my time, and what my actions were telling me. What was it I was actually devoted to based on my actions? What was I practicing most of the time when my spiritual or morning routine was over? GangaJi says that often a spiritual practice is just another escape from the real practice. The practice we are doing everyday for most of the day. Maybe we meditate in the morning or we do Mantra or breath or yoga. But the rest of the day, what are we practicing? This is where I found myself struggling to be honest. If I were to look at the majority of my day and then ask myself what it is I’m truly devoted to, it’s a hard truth for me. What My Practice Really Is I practice a lot of distraction from silence, from lack of activity, and from this mind that feels relentless. While I have increasingly brought integrity and truth into my daily life, the hours I spend not being with myself still overwhelm my day. I practice streaming a lot. I love it and I cannot lie and say I do not. I love diving into lives that I’ll never live and getting huge doses of dopamine when I feel emotionally connected to a horrendous situation I can do nothing about. Movies make me feel like I’m already living an important life… for just a few hours. I imagine how I would respond if given the chance and it’s always heroic. I practice living on a screen as characters that I’ll never be while never needing to take any of the risks to become them. It’s a rather beautiful gift and art. I practice a lot of bullying, comparing, and shaming as I build The Sanctuary for the Misfits of God. I find it painful and inspiring to come across authors and creators who are doing a flavor of what I someday believe I will be doing. I find it challenging to stay inspired and not veer into jealousy when I read something so soul connecting, it feels threatening. I practice hours and hours resisting the work I say I love. If I gave the Sanctuary as many hours as I give my internal struggle, I’d probably have an actual physical Sanctuary by now! I practice a game of hide and seek with God that is becoming quite tiresome. I move from one massive connection to God through ceremony or a challenge or a quest, and then spiral into the depths of confusion and loss. This game has often taken over entire periods of my life but I’m getting better with at least keeping it outside “business commitments.” It’s excruciatingly delicious if I’m honest with myself. Every time I rediscover my connection to God in a deeper way, it’s like a drug. I just want more. If I’m honest, I practice addiction pretty much MOST of the time. I’m an addict to God. I’m an addict with food. I’m an addict with TV/streaming. I’m an addict with alcohol. I’m an addict with caffeine. I’m an addict with suffering. I’m an addict with spiritual pursuit. There’s rarely a moment I’m not reaching for a hit of something. A hit of God. A hit of sugar or caffeine. A hit of alcohol. A hit of a movie that makes my life feel significant or unimportant. And All of This Leads to the Deepest Practice of All. The Practice of Story. The practice of devotion to my mind, to my thoughts, to my beliefs. The idea of who I am supposed to become has long held me imprisoned. Layer after layer I have worked to let go of this higher self. This future Saisha Ma that the world needs. It was just recently that I really started to understand what the Super Ego is. This part of us is so tricky because it’s often embedded with our idea of a higher self. But through GangaJi’s work, I’m starting to realize that maybe I finally am getting it. Maybe the truth is the world doesn’t need any version of me in particular. Maybe the world is me and it already has what it needs. Me, finding my way home. Maybe there is no higher self because there is no self at all. That’s why this has all felt so unattainable. It’s like grasping at a hologram. The truth that is calling to me now is the truth of letting go. Letting go of the idea of ever being a teacher or a guide. Letting go of any idea of Gurus. Letting go of all of my practices and attempts to “enlighten” myself. Letting go of stories that are good and bad. Letting go of the idea that I’m here to do anything or be anyone. If I’m honest, I’m terrified of letting go of my mind. Allowing it to be silenced. Not feeding the thoughts, not believing the thoughts, not spiraling in the thoughts. Who will I be if I’m no one and nothing? Yet that’s like asking who a bird would be without knowing it’s a bird. It would still be a bird. It would still fly. A tree would still be a tree. This is the part I think we all forgot. We gave our ego minds so much control, so much dominance, we forgot that we too are nature. We too, have a nature that guides us, beyond any thought. Fortunately or unfortunately for me, I still have thoughts. But my relationship with my mind is shifting. There is a new gap starting to form. I don’t have to believe my thoughts. I don’t have to follow the urge. I don’t have to feed my thoughts. I don’t have to buy into any story or identity. There is a choice starting to arrive. Real choice. A sense of liberation you could say. Maybe it will last, maybe it won’t. What I know is that I’m committed to the truth at all costs. I trust in that. It anchors me. I know the truth, naked and vulnerable as it may require me to be, will always lead me home. What Is Your True Practice? If you find yourself resonating with these words and you’d like to explore within your own container, I offer you the same inquiries I used. These come directly from GangaJi herself. Remember to stay neutral and let go of the story. Let the Super Ego of judgement go, just for a moment, and give yourself the freedom of truth. What’s here? (no story, no judgement, no meaning making) What are you really practicing? (based on your actions and where you spend your time/energy) Walking the Sacred Edge, Saisha Ma This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sanctuaryforthemisfitsofgod.substack.com/subscribe [https://sanctuaryforthemisfitsofgod.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]

When Being Capable Becomes a Cage

Welcome back to the Sanctuary — to the misfits, the rebels, the queers, the sensitive ones, all those big bold hearts out there. I am here breathing post dual ceremony — which has been a long two years coming. Before anything else, I want to offer clarity around the Sanctuary and Living Rhythm now that both are fully live on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. Everything is simplified. The Sanctuary remains free — on Substack and podcast platforms. There will always be something accessible. The Living Rhythm is the paid experience — $22/month, $188 annually, and there are 12 Founder spots left at $333 for lifetime access. Founders are my closer touch circle. The ride-or-die crew. Those who feel called will know. Living Rhythm is where we go deeper. Circles. Reflections. The real embodiment work. And now that I’ve said that… Let’s talk about what’s actually here. 🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱 Why Day 5 Isn’t Ready I’ve been sitting with Living Rhythm Day 5 — which was originally meant to be about establishing a simple daily anchor. A morning routine. A starting point. And when I went to touch the teaching… I realized I don’t currently have a consistent morning routine. For four years I did. Solid. Structured. Anchored. But since returning from India, something has shifted. What was driving me before is not driving me now. So I’ve had to go back to scratch. What anchors me now?What happens when I don’t anchor?What does that mean for self-leadership? That’s why Day 5 isn’t recorded yet. Because this isn’t about telling you what your anchor should be. It’s about helping you explore what yours is — because that’s exactly what I’m doing. And as I sat with it, something deeper started to reveal itself. Day 5 isn’t about routine. It’s about self-leadership. And what self-leadership actually looks like when softness enters the room. 🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱 Ceremony and the Illusion of Devotion I assisted in four Shivaratri ceremonies. The last two were integrated with medicine. It was an opening. A portal. On the first night, I felt something I’ve been calling in for a long time: connection to my own inner guru. That inner wisdom I so easily see in others. I have a pattern of giving my power away. Wanting someone else to tell me the direction. Wanting someone else to hold the answers. Every time I try to give that power away, I’m returned back to myself. In the ceremonies, I watched myself still show up in hyperdrive. Needing to hold everything together.Needing to know where everything was.Needing to have the answers.Needing to prove I belonged there. I fell into the belief: “If I’m not here doing this, it will all fall apart.” And I knew that was a red flag. Because what was that really about? What was I trying to protect? 🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱 What I Thought Devotion Was I thought devotion was carrying everything on my back. Proving my bigness. My capability. My power. Proving I had grown. Proving I knew. Proving I was worthy. There was domination in it. A need to be big so no one could threaten me.A need to be big so no one could hurt me again. Devotion was intensity. Fire. Control. But it wasn’t softness. 🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱 Surrendering to the Masculine On the final night, I felt something shift before I even entered the ceremony. I knew I was going to have to surrender to the divine masculine. That is a wound for me — the masculine doesn’t show up, doesn’t hold, lets me down. So I hold everything. But that night, I had to put it down. Instead of doing everything, I empowered others. I stepped back. I let go of my role. And in doing so, I experienced something deeply uncomfortable: When I don’t have a role, I don’t know who I am. And I had to be held. Literally. I had to fall into another brother’s chest and cry. Time and time again, the masculine showed up and held me. And I realized how deeply I needed that. That holding allowed me to look at my relationship with the feminine too — the competition, the protection, the way I walk into rooms guarded because I don’t feel safe. I only feel safe when I’m in control. 🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱 What Devotion Actually Is What if devotion isn’t carrying everything? What if it’s putting the weight down? Leaning into empowerment instead of control. Not needing to be in the light.Not needing to be the biggest channel.Not needing to dominate the room. Softening first. Approaching first. Being the welcoming energy first. I fought my ego hard that night. I had to ask myself:How badly do you want this? Because Shiva wanted it all. Not half. And when I finally let go — when I chose love over power — I experienced light in a way I’ve never touched before. There was nothing to fight for there. Nothing to prove. Nothing to protect. And from that place, I saw what my medicine looks like when it’s softened. And there was power there. Not loud power. Not fire-for-the-sake-of-fire. But a power that could actually reach people in ways my intensity couldn’t before. 🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱 Self-Leadership Through Softness All of this comes back to self-leadership. I’ve always led myself through rigidity. Through structure. Through criticism.Through “not enough.” I show up to myself the way I show up in ceremony. Dominant.Driving.Demanding. And now I’m being asked: What does self-leadership look like from softness? I have a fear that softness equals stagnation. That it equals complacency.That it won’t lead to evolution. But I’m learning that softness does not mean hedonism. It does not mean sabotage. It does not mean delusion. It may mean letting my rhythm hold me instead of muscling into expansion. It may mean stopping the proving in order to belong inside my life. This is why Day 5 cannot be forced. Because it’s not about optimizing your routine. It’s not about stacking habits for validation. It’s about putting the weight down. And asking: Where are you still carrying something to prove your worth?Where are you protecting yourself by holding everything?What would it look like to put it down — for one hour, one day? Do you even know where to begin? 🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱🔱 Wherever you’re finding this — Apple, Spotify, Substack — just know this: The voice is just the doorway. The real work is your remembering. Walking the Sacred Edge, Saisha Ma This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit sanctuaryforthemisfitsofgod.substack.com/subscribe [https://sanctuaryforthemisfitsofgod.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]