A Sacred Quest For Heels And The Sword At My Side
Who would've thought that, at almost 60 years old, my journey would lead me to a sacred quest for heels? No not that, and so what if I did like to cross dress. This is about a daughter and her father. A relationship that sits at the very center of everything.
During a recent visit to her new home in Southern California, instead of hitting the beach or seeing the sights, we were on a mission to find the perfect pair of heels for an upcoming wedding.
As I’ve shared before, our relationship hasn’t always been easy. Much of the past strain was tied to my own unprocessed pain—the extremes of my unrealized traumatized parts and mental health challenges. It’s no surprise that as I’ve found a healthier place within myself, something has shifted between us. I’m cool again! I’m more present, more embodied—and who better to pick up on that than my daughter?
After years of rejection, to share laughter with her and just hang out on her terms was nothing short of a holy experience. So, heels it is and I couldn’t be happier to be part of the quest.
On the first night of my visit, I went back to my rental and sat with this new energy between us. I could feel something deep and ancient moving inside. My superpower, fully present, locked in on the sacredness of what was unfolding. But it was more than just father and daughter reconnecting. It felt as though the ancestors were there too, bearing witness to the possibility of breaking generational cycles. And all of it, everything needed, was right there in that moment.
Of course, my own father wound surfaced, too. I hadn’t visited that space in a while, and suddenly I found myself plunged into the darkest depths. It really fucking hurts to have a father who’s still alive and wants nothing to do with you. I don’t acknowledge this enough. He’s been mostly absent for the better part of my adult life. His blanket excuse? “Everyone on your mom’s side is crazy!” Sure, there's some truth there but in the end, it's no excuse.
The connections were clear as I sat with all these emotions. My internal parts aligned and ready, finding genuine excitement for the day to come and more than willing to quietly welcome my own father wound to the quest.
One thing I've learned through the years of rejection from my daughter is the transformative power of loving something unconditionally. It turns out that was necessary medicine for me. The call was to keep showing up, doing my own work, even when it hurt. To keep trying. To take the rejection not as defeat, but as motivation. Not looking away, distracting myself, but honestly being with it all. Letting go and surrendering to the pain became the way.
My own dad couldn’t do that. I needed to vent, to blame, when I was younger, but he just wasn’t up for that. His love was very conditional, as I can see now in retrospect, his own unresolved wounded parts blocking the way.
It’s okay Dad I’m sorting it out, and with it some compassion and understanding for your struggles. But I’m still working on that, and this is about me and my girl!
To feel unconditional love, and to have a place to give it, is transcendent. A place to step outside of oneself and serve another. It feels foundational to my mental health, at least from where I stand now. But it started with learning to love myself in such a way and bringing all the pieces back into alignment.
This is where my personal map shifts. Where the years of inner work prepared me to receive the quiet presence of the ancestors, and to embrace this unexpected quest. A sacred duty lay before me and all that was needed was some authenticity, a little vulnerability, and a willingness to meet her exactly where she is. And in private, to allow my own grief to move through me.
Heels, it turns out, became a sacred quest. An offering, a bridge, a ritual for a father and daughter to continue on their journey of re-connection and healing.
On our way to the mall we encounter some of the familiar awkward moments, not sure what to say, fumbling with silence and topics for conversation. But there were also long stretches of just joking around, laughing, making fun of life and all the absurdity surrounding us. I was more naturally just being myself and letting it all hang out than I can ever remember with her. I delighted in these moments communing with my daughter's strengths and essence, as my gifts were showing up naturally, as well. She’s wise beyond her years, intuitive, appreciates simple things, a very sensible and balanced person, and funny. The laughter was a clear sign of the shifts in our relationship.
I can't remember the last time I was in a mall. A strange place indeed . A plastic superficial ode to consumerism and, what I hope , are the last stages of capitalism. A facade to the crumbling systems beyond the storefronts and the real suffering people and the planet are experiencing because of our perceived need for all this crap. But the quest at hand was most important — not the time to get on my soapbox. Dad in lecture mode wouldn’t serve the sacred task at hand.
The mall was open air as I appreciated feeling the warmth of the morning sun and the ease of finding magnetic north straight in line with our first destination. The elements helped me tune into the possibility for real magic on our quest. I imagined a sword by my side and my real potential for violence to protect what's most precious to me from the darkness all around. There’s something powerful about being with and owning that feeling. A sign that I am learning to be healthy, confident, and more fully alive!
And that sword! I had lost it since the epic battles of childhood. It reappeared in my early forties as I was in the midst of a true dark night of the soul. My life was seemingly falling apart, insomnia had me trapped and my daughter didn’t want anything to do with me. I learned to get on my hands and knees and pray in these moments. I learned to cry and grieve again—and there by my side the sword appeared. But I had to learn how to use it on myself first. Not so much a weapon but a tool to cut through the bullshit, the false agreements, the stories that weren’t mine and get to the heart of the matter. Unconditional love and a higher level of truth telling within and without would bring my new tool to life when needed. A tool to keep my own wound open and accessible, as well as the fearlessness to speak truth, even when uncomfortable to do so. I like my sword and I’m still learning how to wield it with grace. My internal parts appreciate the radical honesty and clarity of my sword, as my centered self has found this new tool invaluable.
We started at a store with heels priced between $500 and $1000. Some normal dad reactions kicked in as our shared sensibilities and limited funds had us moving along quickly. Along the way, I was struck by how much we have in common, but also by her unique and quietly powerful way of being. Yes, we are father and daughter working to repair our relationship. But we’re also just two adults fumbling through life, with some shared ground between us. Focusing on that feels like the way forward.
She clearly knows her way around the mall. I followed her through each store like I used to on our backpacking adventures when she was young. Her fearless and excited, charging ahead toward whatever was around the bend, my love a silent safety net close behind.
Eventually, we found some heels—under $100. She liked my idea of wearing them carefully and returning them after the wedding. Gotta stick it to the man whenever you can. (A little soapboxing, I guess, can’t be helped.)
The highlight of the trip, along with getting to know her serious boyfriend. A good-hearted young man with lots of integrity who clearly cares deeply for her. He may not realize it but his sword is still by his side. They’ve got a sweet thing going, and I’m celebrating right along with them. In a world that often feels numb and unkind, love is such a rare and precious gift!
To my surprise and delight, heels and heals merged that day offering father and daughter just what we needed. These are the moments where I feel myself anchored in time, aware of what’s come before, what’s still ahead, and my true place in the here and now. Magnetic north is easier to find these days. The sword is still at my side if needed. But now I carry it with a renewed clarity of what truly matters and how to properly wield such a tool.
Much Love!
The Mad Preschool Teacher ( He/Him)