Nobody is going to crown, certify, or authorize us to be community leaders, elders, or healers. We are recognized as leaders when we act like it, when we sincerely give to the community around us what we are capable of giving. When we give disingenuously, attempting to overreach for the purpose of profit or glory, we will hurt others, and this will diminish our credibility to hold these titles.

Many of my friends, sensitive, creative, and intuitive, are slow to disclose to others their gifts because they are afraid to be seen - as crazy, self-righteous, or inexperienced. These specific friends have been nudged by me to contribute, because they are people I choose to go to with my problems. I would literally pay for their spiritual or political counsel, because I know the value of their wisdom. I still share my problems with others, but not with the same intention of receiving advice. I do this as a practice of discernment.

I wrote my story of abuse recovery on the professional networking site because I was making an offering. I called in my fear of death, my fear of power, and my fear of money. I gave all these feelings space to speak, and then I offered my shame in exchange for power. I killed an older version of me who perceived this act as impossible. “Nobody will hire me! All my employers will see!” The story I was afraid to share doesn't hold weight over me anymore because I now wield the power to tell it. And I still don't know where I am going on this path.

For many of us, sensitive, creative, and intuitive individuals, I believe our initiation in the modern world will look like this. Our friends will think it insignificant or obvious when we share our stories, but we'll reflect on it curiously in the aftermath, how we trembled over the “Post” button like we're running from a murderer in the woods. Or perhaps be surprised at the demand for our wisdom. And as we shake in fear, we will still make this offering of shame because we know we have to. This will be a private ritual done in public.

Trauma has frozen us, made us feel incapable, and convinced us that the voices of doubt in our heads are our birthright. They are not - the voices in your head aren't even you. You can close your eyes and ask the voices “who are you?” or “how old are you?” and they will reveal themselves. They'll out themselves as being your mother or you at age 13, neither of whom is you now. If you're taking advice on how to live from your perception of mother or you at age 13, I'd ask you to reflect on your discernment.

All warriors, shamans, and elders went through initiations. All children went through initiation to become adults. Some of them died in the process; life is hard, as somebody said. And I say, our initiation is before us. Too many of us reject ourselves before we think to offer our gifts. Give the people a chance to reject you! What if your initiation is learning that being wrong or laughed at or ridiculed or criticized will not kill you? If you don't wish death upon your political enemies, you are already capable of granting this grace to others, so give it to yourself now.

Death is asking you to know it as it really is, not as how you imagine it. We would live differently if we learned to distinguish between a perceived threat and a real one. We would live differently if we meditated on fear of death, not as a punishment for expression, but as an experience of boundaries and limits and transformation. If we are to move through fear into bravery, this is my suggestion.

The traumatic tension (shame) you offer in the ritual you create (an essay, a meeting, a conversation) to the thing that you fear will be rewarded with the gift of courage. The perceived unlovability you give away as sacrifice at the altar of death will come back to you tenfold as dignity.