The Gift that Broke My Heart.
For as long as I can remember, I hate the concept of gifts.
I hate giving gifts.
I hate receiving gifts.
I hate the contrived occasions that force us to recognize each other with some sort of material symbol of an emotional connection.
Gifting makes me extremely uncomfortable, because to me, a gift isn't just about the exchange of an object — it's about a deep, soulful connection. It's about seeing deeply the hopes, aspirations, needs, and sensibilities of the other, and meeting them (at the very minimum) or elevating them.
To receive a gift that feels transactional because of the moment — and there are all too many contrived occasions that condition us through fantasy, routine, obligation or guilt — leaves me feeling hollow.
To me, a gift should say "I see you. Completely."
It's a very high bar.
It's also why I rarely give gifts because of occasions — if I give a gift, it's usually based on connection.
Why am I sharing this someone antisocial perspective on gifting? Because this week, in our Monday morning campfire connection, I figured out why I have such a visceral discomfort when it comes to gifting.
I was ten. It was Christmas.
It was the one obscure package under the tree for me that wasn't something necessary (like PJs and socks and underwear) or traditional (like Tinkerbell perfume) — it was the surprise.
I put so much hope in that package.
I gave it a whole world and multiple fantasies and knew my life would be transformed once I opened it.
I anticipated something romantic and worldly and creative — because that's what my heart yearned for. And when it was time to open it, the overwhelming excitement in the eyes of my Mom and her boyfriend told me I was right. They couldn't wait for me to see what they got me because they really nailed it — I mean, you could tell, they went above and beyond and couldn't wait for me to share their joy and excitement. All they wanted was for me to be happy.
As I peeled away the paper, I slowly felt my soul going numb, the color draining from my face, the well of disappointment and heartache rising up into my throat — my heart wasn't just broken, it was crushed.
It was a calculator.
I tried so hard to force a smile. I didn't want to hurt their feelings because they were so excited. I wanted to keep my pain and disappointment to myself, not spill it onto anyone else — I mean, their intentions were so loving and pure. (This is the conditioning of the undefined Solar Plexus, by the way.) But it was so giant, this feeling of being unseen and misunderstood by the very people who were supposed to know me — the depths of me — was utterly overwhelming.
I started sobbing.
They were shocked.
It was 1976. Calculators were new to the market, a coveted novelty. I was smart. I loved school, and I excelled at it because my logical mind loves to read the patterns and figure things out.
They saw the calculator as a way to honor my gifts. They explained how it could help me with my school work.
I didn't know why I was sobbing. I couldn't find an explanation. I groped my heart and my mind looking for something — anything — to move us all past this horrible, awkward moment. I made up a reason, 'I feel like you're telling me I'm not smart,' to which their response was 'of course, not.'
While supporting one of our members navigate her frustrations while parenting her very smart 10-year-old daughter last week, we looked at her daughter's Human Design chart.
Her daughter has three life force channels (we call them "super powers", because that's what they are — your core gifts that you're here to express). All three life force channels are logical. Her daughter is extremely smart and uniquely good at pattern-recognition, and her mother sees this.
But that's not all the daughter is — it's just what's most pronounced or obvious because it's her unique set of strengths.
The lovely thing about our unique Human Design coaching circle is that every single situation has the potential to heal more than just the one person who's sharing — because we're all connected through a shared tapestry of energetic pathways defined in the larger composite.
Each time we deepen our understanding of our own individual design – or an element of someone else's design – we heal and lift each other, which heals and strengthens our relationships, and raises the collective vibration of all.
Helping this particular mother see that what her daughter needed in this particular moment wasn't practical "survival" guidance (which is the go-to strength for this parent's design) — what her child needed was softness. To balance the logic. To bring into focus all the squishy creative parts of her that are in the process of being overshadowed, snuffed out, or soon-to-be shut away because of the logic that comes so easily to her — and that's being reinforced by others who so easily recognize it in her.
In other words, the daughter doesn't (and didn’t) need a calculator.
She needs a wand.
And with this experience of being a co-traveler, witness, and guide to others, my own memory of being "short-circuited" as just a brain — by a calculator given to me almost 50 years ago — an old, forgotten wound was finally seen, and something in me healed.
Note: Every Human Design chart is more than the sum of its parts, and every element of a chart affects — and is affected by — every other element. Human Design is a deeply layered, complex system that integrates eastern and western traditions and wisdom. When I share discrete elements of a chart, I am simply sharing glimpses into the mechanics of Human Design (and the Gene Keys) to show others how they, too, can discern practical insights from their own charts into their uniqueness and the patterns of thought, behavior, conditioning, emotions, and psychology that keep them from achieving their highest potential or living their best life.
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