This week, the past calls—not as a burden, but as a doorway. Memories of the father, or the absence of him, stir beneath the surface. In dreams, in conversations, in sudden waves of emotion, the first masculine imprint rises to meet us. We begin to see that what once felt like rejection or distance was often a hidden grief, a silence passed down through generations.
Behind his rigid posture or emotional withdrawal was a boy who had no permission to be soft, who was taught to survive instead of feel. His gaze may have been missing, but our soul never stopped searching for it. And in that search, we may have forgotten our own light—betraying parts of ourselves to be seen, chosen, or held.
But now, consciousness brings clarity. We are invited not to blame, but to understand. Not to repeat, but to transmute. In witnessing the vulnerability behind the masculine armor, we begin the true work of healing—not just for ourselves, but for those who came before and those yet to come.
The Circle of Hanik 