Young Evelyne dashes through the sanitarium her grandfather founded, the one where her entire family works and gathers, and where she is used to seeing the faces of the handicapped, the infirm, as they strive to heal. As she carefreely explores this curious playground, pondering if perhaps she’s invisible, she has no idea that she will one day carry a handicap of her own—one perpetrated on her as a child that, though buried deep within, will cripple her emotionally, physically, and spiritually for decades, affecting each of her relationships.
Evelyne Michaut was born and raised in France, from where she sprung, at nineteen, into a worldwide holy quest for true love, home and family. She found healing and salvation through writing at an early age, but took her sweet time to believe she could make it a public career.
The Goddess Guide to Divorce is her first (finished) book. With this memoir out of the way, Evelyne will resume work on the first draft of a futuristic feminine novel where Priestesses and the fledgling Unified Planetary Government they helped create are under threat.
While she continues steadily her process of disidentification, Evelyne still cherishes the experiences beneath the labels of mother, lover and writer. Her life is an ongoing adventure revolving around her magnificent four and eight-year old boys, her legendary love, and the stories that are demanding to be written.
The process of healing demands from us the capacity to hold the incongruence of our experiences.
And the doorway is: quiet.
Only in stillness can we practice the safe experiencing of a memory of wonder tipping into a shadowy one.
Quiet, sitting still, accepting the moment as it is, feeling how the breath anchors us into the present...
Eventually we develop this capacity to hold the dissonance.
We can stitch into a coherent narrative the experiences of the past, and allow them to coexist in our hearts...until they dissolve into the compost that nourishes our present being.
The Goddess Guide to Divorce: A Memoir
I am little. Under your hand I am little. Your hands are big and strong. They can do lots of wonderful things. I watch them build and fix things. And then you toss me in the air and it is such a thrill I giggle and I know that your hands will catch me. They always do. Even when I jump from high up. I love when your hands catch me and you hold me close. I am fearless—you like it when I am fearless. You are proud of me and it feels so good to be liked. (Okay, sometimes I am scared but I push through because it feels so good when you like me.) Sometimes your hand can pin me down and you are so big over me but then it’s not you.