“I Lift My Lamp Beside the Golden Door”

I am no longer afraid to claim the title of hero because now I know it is true, but I also know that it doesn’t make me any less fallible or imperfect than anyone else. Heroes are just people who happen to be in the right moment, and with the right talents to step up to the challenge. Plus there are a lot of other players and circumstances to create the hero. We sure don’t do it all by ourselves.

I won’t go into all of the details here that led to being a hero. You can learn more about me through my books, newsletters, podcasts and online courses. But suffice it to say that every week I hear from my readers and students and clients about how much they appreciate my contributions to their lives.

I use plenty of personal examples to demonstrate the journey of this hero to the present day too. Such as the trauma of neighborhood lawsuits and a hostile divorce — facing false arrests and being physically assaulted and stalked — defending my profession, my property and my family — losing $550,000 in legal fees even though I won most every legal battle — and most traumatic of all losing my daughters to parental alienation.

I wouldn’t have become a hero though, if I didn’t step up to the challenges of these horrifying experiences. I do mean challenges. If you act like a victim and cave each time things get tough, you will never be a hero in your own life. I had to embrace each incredible loss — even the loss of my daughters Bianca and Phoebe — and ask myself what is the spiritual message.

I started to turn myself around when I met Mother Mary in the Clark County jail. I had been arrested for assault, trespass, lying to the police and whatever else the Vancouver police could throw at me. None of it was true of course, but I was divorcing an angry divorce attorney and he had powerful and unethical allies at Vancouver City Hall. I had to learn fast how to protect myself. It wasn’t going to work to cry, or complain, or even explain the truth of the matter. First I had to accept that all was happening for a reason.

That’s where Mother Mary comes in. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a pamphlet protruding from a corner of the metal desk in my jail cell during that first arrest. The pamphlet, left by Catholic Charities, and meant to comfort women in jail, told the story of Mother Mary’s painful journey to accept her son’s divinity and his fate. But in that acceptance Mary also became a hero and still is to many throughout the world.

Mother Mary’s excruciating and painful story has been an inspiration to me for the rest of my life.

The consciousness of Lady Liberty.

Years before my fateful arrest, I had the opportunity to visit the museum atop one of New York’s Twin Towers — in fact just the year before they collapsed on 9/11. I discovered the story behind the dedication to the Statue of Liberty. I was so impressed by the sonnet written by Emma Lazarus (1883) for the dedication of the statue, that I have it hanging on a wall in my office and I have memorized the lines.

Most Americans know some of these lines, but I will repeat them here because they reflect another part of my hero’s journey.

THE NEW COLLOSUS
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
~ EMMA LAZARUS 1883

Please note that Emma Lazarus was a Jewish/American woman who did not have the right to vote at the time she wrote the sonnet. Plus she would not have been allowed to attend the dedication of the Statue of Liberty without being accompanied by a man. Yet her words are known world-wide and stand for the promise of America —the consciousness that guides the United States of America is not a conquering hero but a mighty woman with a torch lighting the way for those desiring to be free.

A mighty woman with a torch.

Since President Biden passed the torch to Vice President Kamala Harris to head up the Democratic ticket for the US Presidency (July 21, 2024), I have been flooded with emotion. There is a meme going around showing Harris, a brown skinned daughter of immigrants, wearing a green dress, standing strong and proud in front of Lady Liberty — and holding a torch to light the way for all of us.

[I couldn’t tell you more about how to shine like a hero, if I didn’t disclose this bias on my part. I am a feminist, a Democrat, and whole heartedly support Kamala Harris for President of the United States.]

Harris’s candidacy says a lot for America, for our citizens, for women and children, and for the world, but in this short podcast I want to tell you about my daughters. Because when I first saw Vice President Harris’ happy face as she announced that she would “run and earn” the nomination of her party, my first thoughts were of my daughters, Bianca and Phoebe.

My daughters are examples of the incredible diversity of humanity that Harris is ready to lead. They are,

• Adopted individually
• Have American born white birth mothers
• Daughters of illegal immigrant fathers from Mexico
• Bianca has a great grandfather who grew up on a Native American reservation
• Adoptive mother is white and Christian
• Adoptive father is Jewish
• Both daughters have developmental disorders (Autism and ADHD)
• Both experienced the trauma of their parent’s divorce
• Both are victims of parental alienation

So yes, I wept with this announcement of Harris’ candidacy because I realized that my daughters finally have a chance to be represented by a woman who not only looks like them, but represents the diversity of America, just as do my daughters.

Yearning to breathe free.

Lastly, my tears are also for the hope that my daughters can see this election as an opportunity to “breathe free,” or release themselves from their traumatic childhood. Of course I hope that they will recognize that their mother is a hero too and has been holding a place for them in her loving heart, when they are ready to return. But also as women in their thirties now, I hope they can use their life experiences to embark on their own hero’s journeys. Breathe free my dear daughters. Let go of your fears. Follow the beacon hand and know that you are finally welcome here.