The Wound is the Gift

On Loving Our Vulnerability and Finding Our Purpose

“The wound is the place where the light enters you.” – Rumi

Darkness & Light

I was introduced to the idea of the “sacred wound” while deep in the desert with Animas Valley Institute in 2014. At the time, I was suffering underneath the pain of a nagging sense of unworthiness and not belonging. This pain was manifesting both in my professional life (I felt either inauthentic or inadequate in every job I tried) and my personal life (struggling with heartbreak, rage and grief over the ending of my college romantic relationship 4 years prior).

In Soulcraft, Bill Plotkin suggests we all carry inner wounds, and that perhaps there is some divine reasoning behind why this is the case. Our wounds, it seems, have a way of leading us to our gifts. He writes:

Even in the healthiest families each person suffers from at least one significant emotional wound. This might not be an accident, and it might not be unfortunate. Perhaps the soul sees to it, to catalyze a special type of personal development that requires a trauma for its genesis. Think of the birth of a pearl: the tiny grit of sand within the oyster creates an irritation the oyster seeks to eliminate by coating the grain with successive layers of lustrous deposits, ultimately producing the jewel.

As they say in Silicon Valley, it’s not a bug. It’s a feature.

On my first quest, the recognition that the inner wounds I was carrying could actually be a good thing was a complete game changer for me. While out on my 3-day solo, I followed my guides’ encouragement to intentionally go into my wound, using my heartbreak over lost love as the entry point. “Pull open the wound, and let the emotion take over you,” they told me. “Then see what happens.”

I did just that. I remember the moment vividly: Sitting alone in my Crazy Creek chair, surrounded by a circle of 9 ponderosa pines, baking in the desert sun and dwarfed by towering red stone monoliths, I let myself fall apart. I cried – yelled, screamed, wept, and groaned – like I never had before. I spoke directly to my ex, with the support of one brave ponderosa who agreed to stand in as a proxy for her. I wailed at her with my words, holding nothing back. I wailed at myself. I lamented. I apologized. I lost track of time and my normal sense of self. The emotion took over completely, and I surrendered.

At some point, I paused, panting and dazed. My vision was blurry and my face covered in tears. Beleaguered, I looked around. Allowing my breath to deepen and slow, I realized I was OK. Not just OK – I felt great! Deeply renewed, refreshed, and relieved.

Then the moment of inspiration struck. All of a sudden, everything made sense. I finally understood why this breakup had been so painful for me, why it had continued to torment me over the years. It wasn’t because of what happened – as much grief as I felt from losing such a beautiful person and relationship in my life, my pain had been much deeper than that. 

The depth of my pain was rooted in the story I was believing about what happened. I had convinced myself that my ex made me a better version of myself, and that without her, I would never be happy, whole, or complete. I took her unwillingness to get back together with me as a final confirmation of my deepest fear: that on some basic, innate level, I am broken, flawed and unworthy of love.

As I recognized that story and began to release it, a deep wave of healing energy came over me. For perhaps the first time, I began to claim my inner light. I breathed in the innate knowing that I am the sole creator of myself. I have all the power to be exactly who I want to be. I am unendingly worthy and deserving of love – because I am love. I do not need the love, approval, or validation of anyone but myself. I am the captain of my most vital, flourishing, magnificent, and love-drenched life. 

Three days later, on my last night in the canyon, I was blessed with my first direct encounter with my soul. A life-changing dream came to me that set me on an entirely new path, became my most reliable navigation partner for charting a life aligned with my deepest truth, and eventually would become my inspiration for Starlight Leadership (I wrote about it here).

In Plotkin’s words:

Doing the healing work with your sacred wound can provoke an encounter with the soul itself. Your wound holds a key to your destiny in this life. As you struggle with the griefs and horrors at the heart of the wound, no longer distancing yourself from what you uncover there, you may find yourself, one day, staring straight into the deepest truths of this lifetime.

I believe my greatest gifts are somehow embedded within this experience. Without diving headlong into my darkness, I would not have been able to find – let alone embody – my light. There is some elixir or potion that lives in the relationship between my pain, fear, sorrow, and loving acceptance of both my darkness and my light. Within that mixture lies a certain kind of magic and medicine that I believe may be only mine to give to the world. 

A similarly unique, powerful, magical medicine exists within you, too. Your sacred wound may be holding the key.

(Teaser: This August, Starlight Leadership will be launching our new flagship program, entitled Power Awakening: Darkness & Light. We are seeking up to 12 soulful achievers who are ready to embrace their own inner darkness in service of unleashing the full glory of their light. If you are interested and want more details, please let us know here.)

Getting to Know the Sacred Wound

While the ending of my college relationship was the first entry point I found into accessing my sacred wound, I’ve come to realize that this wound has actually shown up through several different experiences throughout my life.

The earliest instance I can remember was in 2nd grade. After writing some intentionally inappropriate and bathroom-humor-heavy stories to read aloud in English class (I was seeking to get a rise out of my friends – and oh man did it work), I was asked to stay behind in the cafeteria after lunch. All the other kids in my small elementary school were given an extra 15 minutes of recess, and I was told to sit down in a circle of chairs with all of the teachers from the entire school. I had no idea what was going on. I was so confused, and so scared. As they began asking me about my stories, why I had written them, and whether I felt safe at home, that fear transformed into a deep, heavy shame. I went home that afternoon, found the notebook in which I’d written the stories, and ripped up the papers in a fit of shameful rage.

My heart beats louder, chest constricts, belly tightens, and a gaping hole opens up in my rib cage every time I think (or write) about that moment. I remember the plastic yellow chair. Looking around at the faces of concern and disapproval. With hindsight, I can see the same underlying story being triggered: On some basic, innate level, I am broken, flawed and unworthy of love.

The most recent instance of this wound getting triggered was, well, basically the present day. It shows up in many of the key relationships and efforts of my life. A few weeks ago, I asked my coach to support me in exploring a particularly painful conflict that I noticed was continuing to trigger me many months after it had occurred. My instincts told me this was a sign there was something more for me to discover and learn.

In exploring that conflict in coaching, and the way it was still living in me, I landed on my sacred wound. My coach helped me identify my sacred wound as “a part of what I imagine to be me” – in other words, a persona – and supported me in doing a persona interview to get to know this part of me better.

Here’s what I discovered: The most important thing to my sacred wound is to remind me of my own humanity. It has helped me chart a path in life that is aligned with my authentic being, thanks to this ache in my heart that drives me to seek and not settle. It learned its style from my ancestral lineage. The wound is most afraid of me wasting the incredible potential of my life. What it most wants is for me to be so alive that it terrifies me. And its gift is authentic truth.

Closing Invitation

As you turn inward, and think back on the course of your life – what are your deepest emotional wounds? How have you felt like a victim, suffering at the effect of your circumstances?

If you are willing, I invite you to wonder: How is this wound connected to your gifts? How might it be a divine invitation from your soul, the tiny grain of sand without which there would be no pearl?

As always, I would love to hear your reflections. Better yet, come explore your sacred wound with us in our new program, Power Awakening: Darkness & Light. Let us know your interest here and we will follow up with more details!

With love, darkness, and light,

Brooks

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