Female Divine, Hurt No More: A Guide for Women and Men

By Blanca Beyar

Female Divine, Hurt No More speaks to all the women who have suffered from a broken heart and unsuccessful relationships. It invites you to recognize the many patterns of behavior and of sacrifice that women have been practicing in relationships that have enabled men to remain uncommitted and disengaged from the female divine.

A new paradigm has emerged that is positioning women and men to experience the blissfulness of divine, complimentary relationships in an empowering new way. In this book, you will learn how to implement a series of healing exercises that will prepare you to receive your divine partner and to enjoy in the participation of a mutual, new journey of love, spirituality, and divine unity.

Female Divine, Hurt No More is a spiritual guide for relationships that is written for both men and women.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Mar 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781452593418

Blanca Beyar

Blanca Beyar wears an array of hats in the holistic and spiritual arena that assist in her mission to deliver inspiration and empowerment to others. She is the author of eight self-help books, an Empath, light-worker, medium, and guru. She maintained a private holistic practice for over fifteen years. Blanca accredits her life experiences as the stepping stones that led her to prevail from a struggling and hopeless life to her soul’s mission and calling. If she had to do all over again, she would not change one experience, because in each piece of her life’s puzzle, she discovered a piece of herself. She uses her own life experiences to help inspire others to discover their own strength and empowerment. As a teacher, Blanca has attuned over two hundred students all around the world to the healing art of Reiki. Her books have been instrumental tools for countless of readers on the healing path and her workshops and events offer the opportunity to experience Blanca’s loving and healing energy up-close and personal.

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Copyright © 2014 Blanca Beyar.

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4525-9340-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-9342-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-9341-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014903460

Balboa Press rev. date: 03/10/2014

Contents

Preface: The Roles of the Past

Chapter 1: The Defaming of the Female Divine

Chapter 2: There Is No Need to Settle

Chapter 2: Where Do Our Fears Come From?

Chapter 3: The Quiet Pain

Chapter 4: The Secrets behind Closed Doors

Chapter 5: Let the Healer Be Healed

Chapter 6: Intimacy: The Big Word

Chapter 7: The Empowered Female Divine

Part Two

The New Paradigm of Relationships

Chapter 8: Complementary Energies

Chapter 9: Preparing for New Paradigm Relationships

Chapter 10: To the Male Divine

Afterword

Preface

The Roles of the Past

W hen I was a little girl, I remember playing make-believe with my siblings and cousins. Although there were many different scenes that we would role-play, our favorite one was when all the girls made believe we were being taken hostage by villains (men) and we would helplessly scream for assistance until we were rescued by the cowboys (men). How ironic that in our tender years, men were our rescuers and also the villains and that men would continue to play these roles in our adult lives. And, how revealing that for the male playmates, they had to act out the roles of both the bad guys and the good guys and their primary objective was to save the damsels in dist ress.

We were all under ten years old, but we had already been conditioned to accept that the female’s primary role was to feel vulnerable because of her gender. My female playmates and I also were aware of the feminine lure that females inflicted on the male gender. There was never, ever, a role-reversal where the boys were the helpless victims and the girls were the fearless warriors; this was never even a thought because it had never been presented as an example in the influences in our lives.

Much of the crazy ideas that we made up as play were influenced by the limited amount of television that we were subjected to watch as children. I use the word subjected because we really did not have much of a choice in what programs we could watch—and it was not only because there were only a handful of channels available—it was also because it was the only kinds of shows that we were allowed to view.

One of our favorite shows that we enjoyed acting out was I Dream of Jeannie. The girls would eagerly want to play the role of Jeannie, a modern female who had everything going for her: charm, wit, magical powers, and sensuality. We never stopped to ask ourselves if it was all too magical to believe that we could grow up to live a life like Jeannie did; she was everything that a man desired. When we role-played, we believed that we were just as magical, attractive, and desired as she was, and Jennie was a role model who gave females a dream to dream about.

Of course, this was television, and it was acting. At the tender age of ten, we really did not understand the difference between real life and make-believe. We did, however, have confusion with it because the roles that were being displayed in our real home lives were certainly not the same roles as the beautiful damsels being rescued and romanced by handsome cowboys that we saw on television. Our female role models were not like the bubbly, sexy female who played Jeannie.

The females in our lives—our mothers, aunts, and grandmothers—were incredibly hard-working females who spent much of their time wearing housecoats and aprons and had their pretty, undone faces submerged in kitchen pots. The females in our lives did not wear sexy clothes or have perky smiles tattooed on their faces. Instead, they had a deep and distant stare in their eyes; it was almost as if they were not really in their physical bodies, but somewhere else, far, far away.

This is not to say that the females of my mother’s generation needed to be rescued like the damsels on television or that they were weak by any means. It was quite the contrary; the female role models in my life were incredibly strong and able, both in their character and in their multidimensional capabilities to run entire households filled with children and relatives. Needless to say, the house was always sparkling clean; it was so clean that you could eat from the floor. The beds were always made, the kitchen was impeccably clean, and the clothes were always washed, pressed, and neatly stored. There was always food on the table, and Mom did it all. Mom was always the one who took us to the doctor, brought the groceries, and got us ready for our nightly baths and bed. Yes, Dad was home, but his job was to rest and watch his much-deserved television programs, secluded in his bedroom, away from all the pressures and demands of four kids. After all, he had worked all day; the man’s responsibility was to go out and work and then come home and be catered to. Never mind that Mom had been working all day and would continue to do so through the night.

No. The females of my mother’s generation did not need to be rescued because they lacked stamina or physical and mental strength to endure all the responsibilities of maintaining a home and a household full of children. They did, however, need rescuing from the emotional drain of having to wear so many hats that required constant care giving, nurturing, and providing all the essential needs of everyone in the household. They did not even have a moment to recognize that they even existed, much less, acknowledge how hungry they were for some loving attention. No. That was never even a possibility; those dreams only existed deep within their souls. There were no women in their lives to give them an inspiration or an example to be otherwise.

Have you ever watched a movie that you loved and disliked all at once? For me, it was The Bridges of Madison County, starring Meryl Streep and Clint Eastwood. The movie sets in on the life of a lonely housewife and mother who lives in Iowa and her lover, a traveling photographer. In the movie, Francesca has two teenaged children and a husband who is a hard-worker but barely knows she exists. The movie painfully portrays how a woman becomes lost in her children, the chores of the house, and her obligation to be a grateful wife because her husband is a good provider. The movie also highlights the pain of what it feels like to have no self-identity or passion in life.

As the movie unfolds, a photographer wanders into Francesca’s life at the precise time when she is spending a few days alone without her family. The two have a passionate love affair over the course of a few days, and at the end, Francesca has to make a choice: to leave with her lover and walk out on her family or to relinquish the hidden feelings and passion that she has discovered about herself and her needs in order to stay with her family.

There is a compelling moment at the end of the movie where Francesca makes the decision to stay with her family. Her lover, Robert, begs her to leave with him and tells her that he will be spending a few more days in town in case she changes her mind. Her family back, Francesca takes a trip in to town with her husband to buy some groceries. As she enters the truck, she sees her lover standing a few feet away, just waiting for her to come to him. The next scene still takes my breath away every time I see it. Francesca is shown with her hand on the handle of the truck door, and for a few moments, time seems to stop.

Almost every woman who has ever felt entrapped and lonely—who has