An Icon (and an Era) of Fear Has Fallen!

The Common Thread in Death, Power, Heroes, and Villains

I’ve rarely mentioned my father in my writings. My father. My greatest hero. My worst villain.

On March 5, my 86-year-old dad took his last breath after an extended battle with cancer. Like everything else he did, it was truly a day-to-day battle of wills. But the cancer finally overcame him two years after his “late stage” diagnosis.

My dad was a unique soul. He stayed physically active and fit his entire life, hiking around the mountains at least once a week to fish or hunt. Of Scandinavian descent, he was very handsome in his youth with bright blue eyes and blond hair. There was nothing he could not figure out, design, build, or fix. There was no one I knew more capable and ingenuitive. He was, in many ways, iconic. To my child self, he was nothing short of Superman.

However, my post-death feelings do not include grief. I’ve never had an emotionally attached or loving connection to my dad. My feelings this week are certainly reflective of my life journey with him, but mostly I feel a novel sense of freedom and new beginnings. I’ve also experienced some radical synchronicities that seem to declare that this is a new era of closure and empowerment for me (more on this shortly). But first, I’d like to tell you a bit about my dad.

My Worst Villain.
From my earliest memory I was somewhat terrified of my dad. Finally in my 30s I had an epiphany that I was now an adult, and he could no longer touch or hurt me. It was a turning point for me and for our relationship, as he lost his power of intimidation and fear mongering over me on that day. I believe that chasing down and dismantling my fears became the pattern in my life from that day forward.

Dad was abused as a child by his father and never faced his own darkness, rage, or low self-esteem. Being around him was like living with a tantrum throwing child with a 7-year-old emotional development level. No one could ever question or challenge him on anything. At 6 foot 4 inches, he loomed invincible, intimidating, larger-than-life. He was a self-reliant type with Popeye biceps and an ultra-strong physique—right up until his 80s.

Because of my dad’s erratic moods and abusive tendencies, my childhood was filled with extreme anxiety and chaos. He could be charming and playful one minute, and in seconds turn into a violent raging monster with a cold, dark stare that looked right through you. Nobody knew what might set him off, with his black moods often lasting days to weeks.

I once read that the most psychologically damaging childhood is the one where there is inconsistency, and the child doesn’t know what to expect. My siblings and I all remained in high alert during our entire childhood, never knowing which dad-persona we were going to encounter at any given moment. On days when dad was in a rampage, my mom used to lock us all in the bathroom until he left for work. On other bad days when there was nowhere to hide, he would line all three of us kids up and give us a violent beating with his wide leather belt, just because (he had a “reason,” but it was never valid). He was a huge bully who didn’t know his own strength against a young child.

I remember trying to do everything perfectly as a child, and to stay as invisible as possible—off the radar. But some days it was impossible. There was no amount of good behavior and no effective invisibility cloak when he was searching for a target. He would seek me out to yell at me, intimidate me, and harshly punish me—often without cause or for a minor infraction. I never felt safe.

There were many stand-out traumatic abuse memories in my childhood that invoked years of counseling and self-help books in my 20s. I couldn’t believe the amount of anger and hatred I embodied for my dad—anger that spilled out in close personal relationships and especially became directed toward myself. Probably until my late 40s, I was a container of great self-hatred and self-rejection—something I am still working to make amends for within myself. I recently learned that children who are abused will often take responsibility for the abuse by blaming themselves (“I’m bad and I must deserve this or it wouldn’t be happening”) which begins a life cycle of self-hatred and self-punishment.

Throughout my adulthood, my dad somewhat remained the same. In addition to being mean and abusive, he was extremely selfish. A few times when I needed help as an adult, I reached out to him as any daughter would normally do in times of duress, only to be denied help because he would not share his time or resources with me. No need to belabor the details, but he was essentially a loveless, psychologically and emotionally damaging person to have for a father. I often felt that it would be a great advantage to grow up without a father if an abusive one was the only alternative. But that was before my perspectives changed…

My Greatest Hero.
A curious contradiction, I know.

I have an intuitive belief that I came into this realm to transmute fear into (healthy) power—something I have been doing my whole life up to this very day. Confronting my fears has been my greatest life work. I needed my father to highlight and even contribute to this important life task.

Dad’s favorite past time, circa 2015

I will now offer a radical perspective on him that has been developing in my heart in recent years. About ten years ago, after a significant season of religious deconstruction, I began to have objective glimpses into this earth realm Story of dualism, and why we encounter (are set up with?) the villains in our lives. A new insight dawned, filling me with compassion and even appreciation for my dad.

This story, in this realm, necessitates opposition for growth. We live in an up-side-down story, where everything is the opposite of what you think. Just like we must lift weights to grow strong; we need opposition to grow stronger in our character. Every virtue is showcased, understood, and assimilated through the opposite experience, the opposing tension of that virtue.

Put another way, every great or compelling story needs a villain to oppose the hero, to provide something to overcome, and to contrast the beauty from the ashes. We live in a realm where something must always be overcome in the metaphorical journey to take us from suffering in hell to languishing in heaven.

The saying goes that life is lived forward and understood backwards. I look back now, and I understand why I needed THIS dad. I needed the preparation and strength of character he would impart to me through opposition. My dad made me dig deep in my life for forgiveness, compassion, patience, gentleness, and generosity—toward myself and others. But my perspectives today take it even a giant leap further.

In my earliest religious worldview, my dad would be (they say) “worthy of hell.” No doubt, he has never said “the sinner’s prayer” or “put his faith in Jesus.” He caused a heap of sorrow for others with seemingly no conscience about it, no apologies, no attempts to change.

In my later life worldview (a decade ago), after the concept of hell was dismantled and done away with, my dad would alternatively be worthy of judgment and the “refiner’s fire.” Not to an end of punishment, annihilation, or exchanging evil for evil, but a process of bringing him to feel the pain that he had caused for others, also called “outer darkness,” where he would eventually become contrite and sorry for all the wrong’s he committed toward others, and ready to make lasting amends or restitution. I still do believe that there is an inner refiner’s fire that happens over lifetimes when we are ready and able to account for our wrongdoings (not any kind of outer judgement event), but I believe there is an even higher perspective on those who cause harm to us.

Today, in my current worldview, my perspective has become even more radical. What do I think will happen to my dad now? I now think my dad is worthy of…reward. “Reward!?” you ask. “How can such a thing be?”

It started with my venture into some of the Jewish perspectives on Scripture years ago, when I learned about the two paths of “sacrifice.” In the Old Testament, there were two animals who, once a year, bore the sins of the people in their own ways. The unblemished lamb who symbolized a willing sacrifice, and the “scapegoat” which symbolized being forced into the wilderness as a sacrifice. Now understand, I’m fully against the idea of violent atonement, or the need for literal sacrifices (be it animal or a person) for sin, but I think there is an important symbolic layer here for us to grasp.

We all come into this story as our own symbolic sacrifice. We are here to learn to lay down our ego-centered personas willingly (lambs), or perhaps unconsciously and unwillingly (goats). Either way, we are here to help ourselves and others with this butterfly awakening or transformation into our One-Life as part of the Divine Source. Whether by consciously sacrificing ourselves for others through love and forgiveness, or by unconsciously being sent into the lonely wilderness as the sacrifice required to help others grow and awaken.

In simpler terms, my dad came into this story as a great teacher for many of us who had to learn courage, forgiveness, compassion, fearlessness, kindness, generosity, laying our lives down for others—all through his miserable, despised example of what those things aren’t. He was the tension, the opposition, that built awareness and strength of character into me and others.

In a sense, he was truly the greater sacrifice. Imagine what it takes to live in this Story as a villain, where you are always living with the fruit of your unlovely, isolating actions. He had somewhat of a miserable life—angry, bitter, selfish, lonely, and tormented.

When Christians or others say, “Someday this person will have to give an account and pay for what they’ve done to harm others.” I say, “this man has already suffered his whole life for this role.” My pitiable dad has never known true happiness, genuine intimacy, joy, connectedness, or forgiveness (of himself). Why would I want him to suffer more on top of sacrificing all happiness in order to be one of my greatest teachers? How else could I have learned these lessons so deeply except that he lay down his life and happiness for me in this lifetime as my scapegoat?

I now see my dad differently. I see a soul who perhaps gave a greater sacrifice than most people ever will. I send him off into his next phase of the becoming journey with peace and love, hoping that he will not suffer more than he already has.

And I think this is the meaning of love being perfected in our hearts. When we are able to let go of the need to see our enemies or persecutors suffer or “pay” for their wrongdoings, and we can acknowledge the suffering they have already endured, we are becoming more like our Divine Source who does not repay evil with evil but lovingly and graciously covers a multitude of sins.

This perspective has radically changed my feelings about my dad, and my sincere ability to forgive him completely and forever for the immense pain he caused me in this lifetime.

The Power Portal.
Now for the good stuff. Let’s talk about two of my favorite subjects and how they relate to my dad and some of my recent struggles: synchronicities and astrology.

On February 28 (several days before my dad’s death), I received a professional astrology reading from the astrologist to whom I have recently referred to, Betsy Gutting, as I needed help sorting out my ridiculously complex astrological transits this year.

As you know from previous blog posts (and here), I’m working with a word and concept for 2025 of finding a sense of home within myself. This concept came to me after a long season of self-abandonment (primarily due to the excessively challenging, exhausting career path of hospital nursing) and the resulting illusions of feeling disconnected from my Higher Self and Source. In recent days, I have been experiencing this self-abandonment as feelings of disempowerment and insecurity while undergoing many personal changes and major shifts in areas of my life that were previously stable (it will all show up in future writings).

At the end of my reading, astrologist Betsy pulled a card for me in her usual fashion, like she does with her weekly astrology readings on Youtube. I have mentioned these cards in the past, because they have often carried important synchronous information for me in my quest for healing and understanding. The card she pulled was #35, The Lost Compass. *Of note, anyone can pull cards for themselves at any time with similar results…remember, we don’t need a guru. You are your own guru.

The first thing Betsy noticed was the number 35. In numerology, you would add these numbers together to get an 8, which she noted symbolizes power—taking my power back as a theme for this year. The Lost Compass short description also carried the idea of my compass needing to be calibrated toward home: “getting back to integrity, finding the way home, trusting intuition.” The content of the card read, “When the Lost Compass appears, it is a sign that you need to find your way back home, back to your source and center. …you sometimes have to lose your bearings and find yourself afresh to discover a new course.”

I did not remember that 8 is associated with power in numerology until she mentioned this, but it made perfect sense for what I’m going through. I then thought about how, since late December, I have been “walking the 8s,” as I mentioned in one of the previously linked blog posts. Walking the 8s is a way to open up a powerful portal to the Divine Source within oneself, and that is when I began experiencing increasing significant synchronicities and even some new awareness of specific guides.

As mentioned previously, my dad died a few days later on March 5 at 08:35. I didn’t see it at first until I was journaling. 03/05=8. 08:35=8:8. So then, my dad’s death coincided with 888. I began to see how my dad’s passing is a milestone for me, a cutting of a cord, a move into a new kind of Power, unhindered by tenacious ancestral wounds.

The Full Circle Life Lesson.
On March 5, shortly after receiving the news of my dad’s death, I felt nudged to look up my astrological transit chart for that day to see if I could see any significant patterns that might relate to the timing of my dad’s passing. When I did, I couldn’t believe what I saw. This month is my second Saturn return (Saturn returns to its original position in your natal chart every 28-30 years). Saturn’s placement in your natal chart reflects your life lesson. Also, as the masculine, malefic planet of discipline, responsibility, structure, and limitations, Saturn’s placement can also represent your relationship with your father.

My second Saturn return—a really big life event—was in exact position to my natal Saturn at 21 degrees on the day of my dad’s death. One’s second Saturn return is a full circle of learning one’s life lesson, a serious check-in with the stern high school principal. My Saturn placement at birth was in my 4^th house of home, family, and ancestral wounds (right next to Chiron, the Wounded Healer), representing my abusive father relationship. It feels so cosmic that my dad died exactly on this transit, as if closing the door on a complicated lifetime wound.

It feels like my dad (or Saturn, or the Universe) is now saying, “You are free from this lesson. You are free to stand in your full power! You have finished this Earth School lesson.”

The “21 Pis” is the natal Saturn position, the 21 next to it is the transit on March 5.

But there’s more. The night before my dad died, my good friend Kathleen that I refer to once in awhile, randomly sent me information on my personal gene key related to my emotional quotient (EQ). A gene key, developed or channeled by Richard Rudd, is a unique code (personalized) that unlocks the secrets of your DNA, revealing hidden patterns and energies that shape your life. The gene keys are powerful tools for self-discovery and personal growth based on the idea that our DNA contains a blueprint for our highest potential.

So Kathleen sent my personal emotional quotient (EQ) number about 12 hours before my dad’s death. The EQ for each individual is a unique defense pattern of coping we developed as children between ages 7-14, when we didn’t feel safe. Recognizing and releasing our unhealthy emotional pattern is the key to healing our inner child, and finding emotional freedom. What was my EQ number? Out of 64 different options, it is 21!

The reason Kathleen sent it to me is that, as alluded to above, I have been facing some difficult challenges in my life recently that bring about fear of the unknown, or fear of giving up control in areas that cannot be controlled. She was trying to encourage me. According to the Gene Keys, EQ #21:

“Gene Key 21 represents the energy of ‘Valour,’ signifying the capacity to face challenges with courage, stand up for what is right, and embrace change with an open heart, essentially embodying a fearless spirit in the face of the unknown.

“The highest potential of releasing this childhood emotional pattern is the ability to transcend fear and embrace death (metaphorical or transformational situations) with grace, allowing for complete surrender to the present moment.”

The synchronicity of the 21 tied to my Saturn return felt like another hug from the Universe, coaxing me to face my fears and make choices to empower myself this year.

All this is to say, I hope you can see patterns in your own life that revolve around fear of the unknown, fear of the future, fear of letting go, and instead choose to be inspired to reach for your power. We all have parent wounds of some sort, we all struggle with disempowerment at times, but the Universe is always conspiring in our favor to help us face our lives with courage and surrender, trusting that we are always being guided and protected.

I also hope that you can view your “villains” in life for what they are: courageous souls who came here to help you grow and who are often experiencing greater suffering than most. May this thought give you grace and love toward those difficult people in your life, especially wounded parents.

The greatest takeaway is this: you are the hero of your own story. I am the hero of my own story. We are powerful beings who must face opposition in order to overcome. This is why we came into this realm. We are extra fearless beings who believed in ourselves enough to come into the haze of forgetfulness and find our way to our greatest power, and ultimately to find our way home.

Empowering Thoughts by Neville Goddard
“There is a peace that comes with surrendering to the divine plan. It’s a peace that says, “I don’t have to control everything. I don’t need to have all the answers. I just need to trust that everything is unfolding as it should.” When you can rest in that peace, the magic begins to happen. The path that once seemed unclear, becomes more clear with each step you take. You are not alone on this journey. Every step you take, God is with you. Every decision you make, God is guiding you. Even when you feel uncertain, even when you feel lost, you are not alone. The divine is always with you, aways leading you toward your highest good. Even when the way seems unclear, trust that you are exactly where you need to be in this moment. You have been chosen for this journey and everything that happens is leading you to the next stage of growth. Just as a seed needs to go through a process of development before it can bloom into something beautiful, you too are being developed in ways you may not understand.”