A few months ago, during yet another chaotic political uproar, my son, Alex, who typically is the target of my "I don't understand" rants, quietly and patiently asked me "why does your generation continue to argue with walls?"
That sentenced stopped my rant for about 2 seconds and I, in my usual loud, confused and often hysterical way proceeded with the "what would you say to..." - "wouldn't you...?" - and on and on until he once again, this time with a bit of cautionary irritation, replied "I don't argue with walls."
He doesn't argue with walls.
I can't argue with that.
He gets his charming personality and stunningly good looks from me, his patience and wisdom, not so much.
I've learned when Alex talks, I listen, (after a few go around with myself), which brings me to walls and doors.
Once again the smoldering division in this country has been re-ignited by fingers and knees.
Fingers belonging to a habitually mindless tweeting fool taking aim at a protest begun by an American of mixed race NFL player taking a knee during the National Anthem in pursuit of social justice for all.
While Americans were still mourning and worrying about the destruction caused by Hurricane Harvey, Hurricane Irma, and Hurricane Maria, the embers were burning just enough to set aflame another path of destruction that didn't need Mother Nature's assistance to wreak damage of biblical proportions.
No, this firestorm was reignited at the fingertips of an attention-grabbing, rating loving, draft-dodging hypocrite who chose to focus his attention not on those devastated by Mother Natures wrath, but on those who, in peaceful and constitutionally protected protest seeking social and racial justice for all.
Once again, the man with dancing fingers decided to jitterbug on his Android inflammatory remarks against a certain group of Americans rather than recognizing the devastation of our American Territory, Puerto Rico, and the Virgin Islands.
Apparently kneeling on dry land is more dangerous to this country and its people than floods and hurricanes.
We as a country stood toe to toe, flag to flag, white to black, belief to value, friend to friend, debating whether or not an American's right to peacefully protest racial and social injustices can be done on a football field.
Puerto Rico, U.S. Virgin Islands, and its people don't hold a candle to a group of people on bent knee.
The tweeting of a proud draft dodger have sent this country into a total divide and the NFL became its focal point because once again we have shown that we aren't capable of scratching the surface of an issue deeper than that of a scratch and sniff car deodorizer.
The man with the dancing fingers once again used his childlike skill set to blast off a frenzy of brotherly hate in the heart of brotherly love.
Yes, he decided to use this time of true peril to lead astray many with misguided tweets of patriotism.
He sent his lit matchstick right into the hearts of those who believe in the representation of the flag and anthem in such a way that they forgot what it is they really value.
See if we were to take a moment and really think about what we as a nation and whole value rather than what we believe we would quite possibly have had a different outcome.
We have been led to believe that our flag is our country rather than the symbol of what our land, people, our constitution hold in value.
Our country is valuable because of its people.
Our Founding Fathers realized this and set forth to create a country that represents this in its constitution, not its flag.
Our flag has changed many times over, our constitution has not.
It still remains our constant north star.
I have read and listened to many people on this matter and I have often found myself hearing the words that Alex said to me a few months back.
He is right - there are people who are walls and will never be doors.
They will believe what they believe and no matter what is presented to them.
They value their beliefs more than they value their values.
It pains me to hear the words and read the words that some seem to follow so closely and it pains me more to see the destruction that these words are leaving in their wake.
It pains me to see how many people are walls in a world full of doors.
Walls will tell you that an NFL player is "just a rich, ungrateful, paid entertainer" and therefore have no right to protest on the job.
A door will remind you that athletes work extremely hard to hone their craft.
Talent may be inherent, but without the will, drive, persistence, and determination the desire will never come to fruition with any person in any job with any talent.
A door will also remind you to imagine a life without any form of entertainment, be it sports, Hollywood, toys, books, etc.
Remember Burgermeister Meisterburger?
I don't want to live under his rule.
Walls will tell you that "kneeling is disrespecting our veterans" even though a large majority of veterans will tell you that peaceful protest in any form is absolutely appropriate and entirely what they value.
A door will offer a glimpse into another point of view for consideration which would be kneeling is a form of humility.
We kneel in reverence, we kneel in hope, we kneel in prayer, sickness, to Mother Earth herself while we plant our seeds every spring and hope for harvest every fall.
Yes, we as a nation kneel when we are seeking answers, kneel when we are seeking help and hold out a hand to those who are rising up.
Walls will tell you that "they have no right to protest during work hours" even though they are walking the picket lines as teachers, nurses, postal workers, union workers, etc. seeking better and safer, more profitable and equal work environments.
Protesting brings about change.
Public protests with larger groups of people bring about change more rapidly than singular protests will.
Remember the lunch counters at Woolworth's when a black man sat there?
The water fountains, women's right to vote, Selma, Alabama, 4o hour work week?
This one hits close to me as well as many in my generation-
my Italian grandmother married an Irish man and his Irish mother refused to come to the wedding.
My Aunt married a Jewish man whose mother refused to come to the wedding and my own father who lived in Adams married a woman from "the wrong side of the tracks", North Adams!
EEKKK! The horror!
Walls will tell you that "athletes are not heroes" and therefore deserve to be paid less than those that they deem heroes.
Does Superman, Mighty Mouse, and Underdog fit into the hero category because these characters were certainly heroes of mine? How much do those characters get paid because I know their values helped mold me.
Does the child who lies in Boston Children's Hospital not see Tom Brady as a hero when he comes to his bedside with a football or a jersey?
Do the people of Houston Texas not view J.J. Watt as a hero for raising over 31 million dollars and still counting for the Houston Relief Fund?
Is Eli Manning not a hero for his undertaking of a 5-year campaign in 2007 to raise $2.5 million for the construction of "The Eli Manning Children's Clinics" at the Blair E. Batson Hospital for Children?
Are we not heroes in our children's eyes even though we don't go into burning buildings or saving lives on an operating table?
Are we all not heroes in some form or another?
Walls will always tell you, but they will never listen and that is fine for them, but it isn't a way for a democratic society to function.
We see that over and over being played out in Congress.
It isn't working.
It will never work.
Democracy and change occur when there is an opening of free thought and honest debate.
America was not founded by walls, but by doors.
Doors that were at one point closed but opened ever so slightly when the values of our Founding Fathers overruled their beliefs.
We must as a society, stop falling prey to those who seek to destroy our unity by dividing our United States with misleading words and hateful actions.
I write this blog with deep passion and quiet humility.
My desire is not to incite anger, never to promote ill-will, disrespect, alienate or force my opinions, but to possibly turn on a light aimed directly at the deep values that we as Americans are rooted in.
Rights for all or rights for none.
We can disagree, we can debate and we can stand firm on what we believe to be true for us as individuals, but what we can not ever do is confuse the value of every American and the right to pursue life, liberty, and happiness, in a safe and equal way with our beliefs as to what the symbol of those rights are.
I'm choosing to be a light in all that I do on this earth, and with all lights, sometimes they burn to touch and hurt to sometimes look at but are a necessary form of illumination, and here in America, I have that right.
I am a very fortunate lady and I have been blessed to live a relatively peaceful and happy adult life.
I say adult life because, like most of us, there are situations that occur in our lives that are life altering and typically occur during our most formative years.
I also have been extremely fortunate with my career.
It is very true, I found the whole psychic medium gig frightening at first and definitely wanted nothing to do with the stigma attached to being a psychic, but thankfully it grew and blossomed over many seasons of working as a massage therapist on many, many clients that eventually became friends, huge support systems and cheerleaders for my ever evolving career in the "Healing and Up-lift-ment Department of the Universe".
It is also true not a minute goes by without me being grateful for the life I have been supported to create and the future that I am encouraged to follow, or reminded of how easily it could have turned out so differently.
During these past 30 years, especially what I refer to as the "What the Hell is this all about?" years of my psychic development, I have been continually pushed to reveal more and more of who I am now, where I was and where I am going.
Being called to duty from the other side has many requirements #1 being to know who you are, completely. Loving who you are unabashedly as well as being willing to allow an evolution of the greatest you to occur organically and without judgement.
You see, being a conduit for the other side isn't always easy and it certainly isn't for the faint at heart.
Actually, it is only for those willing to be completely eviscerated, splayed and left naked in the brutality of our own vulnerability, facing every fear, every memory, every hateful word ever spoken to us or by us and every deed good or bad beating us down like a hurricane of of biblical proportions only to eventually find balance on Mother Earths lovingly dry soil under the desert sun while desperately seeking shade and water.
I haven't even mentioned the waterfalls of Niagara pouring through our eyes, releasing all that we've encountered during our initiation or the epic fires in the rain forest that eventually force us to break the seed and begin forming the idea of what expression we will be and when that expression finally emerges, just when we feel we may have control, another wave pulls us into the depths of our souls so that we can once again re-move, re-new and re-form.
"That would be dramatic."
"I thought you would appreciate that."
Working for the Universe has its perks, but the initiation period is fucking brutal.
"And a necessary period of transformation in which the vessel becomes spacious and whole for our use. It is not our intention to cause pain, merely clear you from it so that you may be of value to those who seek to cleanse."
So here I am, years later, a spacious vessel all cleared out, open for business, ready to help and here it comes....the mirror of my childhood standing in front of me, desperately searching for a steady hand to grab, in the form of a client.
"She is tormented today by yesterday."
Her spirit crushed, her heart torn to shreds, faith shattered, lost in grief searching for peace.
The exit ramp on the highway towards Peace of Heart, in which I was able to narrowly turn onto 20 plus years ago and continue to drive daily, she has yet to find and I am being asked to give her a map.
More so, to be her guiding light on that map so maybe she to will be able to find the "Peace of Heart Highway", just right of "Highway to Despair".
Her story began at 9 years old when her mother died leaving behind 3 young girls to be raised by an ill father, a loving family with very little money, even less time, but generous hearts and souls.
At that moment her identity was lost.
Her balance and sense of trust ripped away from her at an age when loosing her favorite Barbie should have been her only trauma.
Her life, her hopes and her dreams forever altered by a death that she couldn't really understand yet knew would devastate her.
Siblings crying, but not understanding at that moment the magnitude of loss they were about to face and the years in which this loss would take from them.
An age when learning to master a bike without training wheels and crossing the road without having to hold your mother's hand was the biggest obstacle she faced and never, not ever could she imagine going to sleep without a nighttime prayer and kiss from her mother.
Never could a 9-year-old imagine such a devastating turn of events.
Neither could a 7- year old.
Growing up a Motherless daughter is in-explainable unless you have been through it and even then, in-explainable.
There is a hole so deep that NO THING, NO ONE, will ever fill.
It destroys your faith, your identity, your security, your entire childhood and many times, your adult hood.
It destroys families and futures.
It eats you alive until it doesn't, and only when you are old enough to understand slightly and make that journey of allowing the pain of it all to re-enter, re-new and re-form you so that you can process it as an adult, can you even begin to be just ok with it, and being just ok is a good thing.
"A motherless daughter is forever an orphan." she spits out through tears as I nod in simple understanding, for I know this intimately.
"A motherless daughter is forever an orphan" rattles me.
I know this to be true, yet I no longer choose this truth to be my definition of life.
As I sit across from her, listening carefully to her words, I beg my ego to be removed so that only Spirit speaks, but even in this altered state I know I am once again being reminded of my own despair.
She speaks of how she will never be able to follow in her mother's footsteps, never had her mother's hand to hold after her first heart break, never had her mother to hold the tissues at her wedding, never would see her mother's her eyes shimmer with loving tears at the birth of her children, never have a mother to offer advice for the million obstacles life loves to toss at her and never, not ever watch her age gracefully and teach her how to as well.
She is a true orphan in every sense of the world.
She speaks of how the world has betrayed her.
Spirit has left her.
Orphans left on earth, Angels risen in Heaven.
As I sit and look at the mirror of my life in the face of my client, I want to comfort her by saying "Yes, we are orphans, and yes, this sucks, yes, this may be our title, but it does not have to be a cross in which we carry and crucify ourselves upon."
I want to tell her that she doesn't have to live in the crater that was created in her being when her mother died.
I want to tell her that she can recognize what she lost yet still remain in awe of all that she still has.
I want to tell her she can hate with every ounce of her being that she is an orphan, but love just as equally her living family, friends, and acquaintances, that nurture her soul today.
I want her to understand that she has so much yet to accomplish, to offer, to see and be and do.
I want her to know
She can learn to feel love again.
She can learn to accept people into our hearts and our souls without fear that they will leave her.
She can thrive even though her roots have scars.
She does not need the crutches of addictions to hold her up when she falls, comforts her when she feels hopeless and put her to sleep when she is tired.
I want to say that she is stable because she is her mother's daughter.
She is her mother's daughter and death does not take that from her!
I want to hug her so tight that she feels the love pouring into her from her mother, who stands beside her every moment of every day, offering her mothering in different ways.
I want to help her find another route, another highway, another car, anything to pull her from the madness of sorrow that consumes her, but I know that I can't.
I can relay messages and offer thoughts from her mother on the other side.
I can ask and receive answers and I can tell her what she wants to know, but I can't stitch that wound.
I can tell her what her mother tells me, but she must allow those words to penetrate the walls built of fear, anger, sorrow, trauma, loss.
I can tell her so much, but she has to decided to live a dream and not a nightmare that began with death but is being continued through her own thoughts.
I tell her to find the courage to open herself up to a life that is rich and full, loving, kind and nourishing even though a part of her altered.
I want to tell her that her story is my story too and that there are more of us than she can imagine and we are filling ourselves with hope because that is why our mothers gave us life.
But I don't. I hold her hand, I love her soul, I speak with Spirit, but I know my story isn't hers and my job today is to lead her to the highway and pray she takes it.
Like so many of of who have lost mothers, we know that the only way to heal is to accept what might have been will be found in another life. and that this life, the life we are here to explore, to learn from, to love in, to grow and thrive in, "To be an expression of an ever loving God" is never going to be completely whole, but chipped, cracked, shredded at times and always carefully held by hands that are unseen and loved by a heart we no longer see beating yet feel beating instead.
It took me years to heal enough to not hate this world and the world hanging out beyond the veil.
Years to love my children fully and completely without fear that I would leave them orphans or they would leave me childless, and years to forgive myself for not understanding then what I understand now.
"That to love only for a moment without fear is the ultimate expression of euphoria."
Faith, love, and life don't come easily for a motherless daughter, but it does come if we allow the pain to wash over us again and observe it as an adult.
If we don't lock it up and use it to shield us from life, but rather as a sword of courage from the ashes of a torched childhood.
We orphans, we know that we are different.
We are molded in a different type of cast.
Maybe we are a bit broken.
We don't trust well, we don't love completely, we are shattered and glued with bandages and putty, we are incomplete and there are deep wells that lie within us that every now and then we go back to and when we come back we remember we are warriors and we are ok
Just ok and that is good.
Today, I was lucky enough to spend time at home with my son. I sat in meditation early on and opened the box of pictures that I was able to hold onto after my mother died.
These are all I have left of her, of us, that is physical and I keep them sheltered, hidden from the world which may take her away from me, even though I know nothing can.
I took out the last picture taken of her and the last picture of me with her.
I am able to cry openly about my pain and when I said quietly staring at the picture of me as a child holding my doll on that last Christmas Eve,
"this was the very last time I was truly happy"
my son, Alex, just as quietly said,
"that isn't true, mom, you are truly happy now."
"I love that boy"
"So do I, Mom, so do I."
I hope that my client finds peace and understanding after our meeting.
I hope she feels love, joy, happiness, and safety knowing that she isn't alone and I hope that when Spirit walks with her and when her mother whispers words of love she will finally be able to hear them.
I hope that everyone who lost a mother, a child, a lover, a friend will stop to hear the whispers, feel the love and choose in that moment to love them back.
I never share my photos, but today I do. I love you Mom and I know you love me back.
I imagine there is not one person that can say this was a long, easy going summer.
I certainly can not.
I can tell you that the energies were extremely chaotic with so many planets in retrograde and a solar eclipse smack dab in the middle of a one year, we've been dealing with a huge ball of energetic energies whizzing around us all summer long.
Climate, political, personal, you name it, it has been chaotic at worst, confusing at best, and no in between.
Most of the time we felt as though we were standing on fault lines just waiting to quake under us and take us down.
Deaths were numerous and extremely tragic.
Depression and euphoria weaved within us almost by the hour and money, well, money is ruling the world and it isn't ruling it well.
Yet, with all that has happened, we still are waking to glorious sunrises and taking pause to become one with the magnificent sunsets, reminding us that natural beauty, peace, calm, and joy are always surrounding us.
When we stop for a moment and consider the beauty in all that is chaotic, somehow peace begins to appear.
I am guilty of letting the chaos immerse me over the summer. I have been ignoring my soul self and feeding into my ego self. I have been acquiring more than inquiring and I have been owning, digesting really, the chaos of the world, the pain of those around me and the sorrows of those I can't possibly help.
I have once again allowed the world's events to consume me rather than let the world's events nourish me and in doing so, I have forgotten to observe, allow, flow, rest, live.
Until as is usual, my guides and "team Jen" decided to send in a life tube.
I know when I am "getting a talking to" when I can't sleep at night.
I toss and turn until I finally ask "WHAT?!"
Then, of course, I get nothing until I simmer myself down and be more polite, which seems pretty impossible at 3:30 in the morning after lying there since 1 a.m worrying about events I can't possibly change and wondering how to fix events that haven't even happened yet.
My ego likes to do that to me...it creates a situation that hasn't occurred and like a dog looking for its tail there I go, running in circles.
Until of course I fall asleep around 5 and wake up around 6.
Today I decided enough of this. I'm tired, I'm cranky and I'm not in any mood.
"Do you hear me?! I am now exhausted and pissed off. I'm getting coffee and guess what, I am choosing to NOT meditate!" "I need coffee."
Instead of meditating I decided to park my ass on the chair in the living room and drink coffee.
As I sat in my room my eyes started unintentionally focusing on the picture hanging above the love seat in my living room.
Tim purchased this picture for me years ago when we were struggling with our marriage, our finances, our kids leaving home and our business draining us mentally.
At that time, we were going through a "dark night of the soul", hanging onto a thread hoping the waging waters below us wouldn't drown us. All that we believed to be true proved false and the life we had so steadily built crashed like a matchstick house.
Thankfully the waters turned calm, but we were profoundly changed.
We are not "Tim and Jen" anymore, we are "Tim" and "Jen." and it is better.
That being said, through all of the chaos, this picture and it's sister, held a great space in my heart as a time of darkness and eventual illumination.
As I focused my eyes on the picture, my mind's eye turned its gaze on the dragonfly, who floats just a bit away from the black dog's nose.
I am reminded of my hard learned lessons of always facing whatever message we hear and see. Dragonflies are our little heads up that messages are coming our way, keep your eyes focused and you will see and hear the messages and it is your free will to take what you have learned and use it in your life.
I also notice the wooden canoe and the realization that it is without a paddle.
No need for steering, for the messages will always show us the way if we just keep our nose on the prize.
No need to worry about the wavy waters, they will always bring us to our soul's next destination, never away.
Water has a way of doing that. It flows and ebbs while cleansing the underlying debris by bringing it from the deepest, darkest depths to the shimmering light of the day. Much like when your soul cleans through your tears.
"I know. I'm sorry I cranked out."
The waves will carry us only so far away before they almost immediately, (though it seems like a lifetime), bring us back to shore.
Most of the time the shore is unrecognizable but is dry, warm and safe until the next wave carries us to another destination.
Black Dog doesn't worry.
Black Dog doesn't think.
Black Dog doesn't panic.
Black Dog doesn't turn away or back down.
Black Dog doesn't have a paddle, doesn't have a map, doesn't have a life preserver or an anchor, but he has focus and a guide.
Black Dog has it figured out.
I'm going to work diligently from here on out to heed the lesson I've been taught by Black Dog.
Lord knows I have the guides.
I just have to stop chasing that tail.
It has been a very long time since I allowed myself to type out my thoughts and look at them in black and white.
You see, this has been a summer of sorrows and sadness' for me and when I get too sad, too emotional, too angry, too shaken, I turn to the "supposed to's and should have's" as an escape route rather than acceptance of how life works and why it does so.
In May, I had it going on.
I bought a new house, decided to take a few more hours off of my massage practice to devote to my spiritual practice.
I added more hours to my medium-ship work and became a rehab addict to my 1910 side hall colonial.
Finally, the past 3 years of upheaval were making sense and calm was coming for a visit.
At least that was what was supposed to happen.
What should have happened.
Instead, once again, life did what life does. It's own thing.
"Life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans." ~ Lennon
My calm and quiet life dream were quickly shattered by the death of one of my client turned friend.
She was at the peak of her life. 29 years old, married, great job, nice house, first baby on the way.
We talked weekly during her massage appointments about how she saw her life in the future.
What should have been and what was supposed to be.
She was going to have her son, already named Emmitt, at the end of June.
She and her husband were going to raise him to be strong, bold, courageous, brilliant and above all else, loved.
She had it all planned.
Life chose another route.
Emmitt was to be raised by his father alone.
His mother passed 5 hours after his birth.
For weeks, months, (even today), I cried out in anguish to all who were within earshot, on earth or on the other side, "This shouldn't have happened"! "She was supposed to raise her son!" "This is not the way it is supposed to be!"
Grieving became my new normal.
I was being forced to relive the death of my own mother, as she too died after child birth, My friend's death tore open years of carefully placed, stacked, stored and locked memories and feelings which were supposed to stay that way.
"I shouldn't have to deal with this again."
"But you are"
"But I'm not!"
And I didn't.
I stopped thinking about it.
I stopped meditating as that only made me go deeper into my feelings.
I stopped my Spiritual practice as that only made me question my guides and helpers and I didn't like what their answers were.
I stopped working on my mediumship and took lots of time off from my massage practice.
I stopped writing and I stopped talking with God.
I lived from my ego, not from my soul.
I began drying up inside.
I cleaned and re-cleaned, rehabbed much of the house, spent money on furnishings, bitched about the government (still do and will continue), and found fault with everything and everyone around me.
I made sure to stop living lightly.
I made sure to dig in deep and push my anger into my relationship with Tim.
We fought like we did during our divorce stage.
We stopped working well together. In reality, he was working with me, I wasn't working with him. I was not going to allow myself to be happy, and he was the first to be reminded of that.
I stopped feeling.
I stopped the easy flow of life and constructed my own barriers.
That is what you are supposed to do when things aren't going the way they should.
"Only if you choose to behave that way."
"You could easily choose to have faith that there are no should haves and supposed to's" "You are so tender, so young in spirit, wise in years, yet your anger diminishes you. You force this anger into your heart. Your heart does not accept this. Your soul rejects this. You use this anger inappropriately. Anger is a tool for growth, not destruction."
I heard this over and over again but refused to budge.
It wasn't supposed to happen.
Soon everything in my life began and ended with should have and supposed to.
Paige should have called today. It's Tuesday, she knows I am home on Tuesday's.
Alex was supposed to be home tonight. I cooked his favorite meal.
I was supposed to have that painted by now. I told Tim I wanted that done.
My friends should understand me by now. I need breathing room.
I suppose I should have meditated today. I am a Medium. I'm supposed to be spiritual.
My life is supposed to be easier. Life is supposed to be simple.
You name it, I supposed and should have'd it to death.
Then came more indignation.
I stopped hearing with the ears behind my ears, seeing with the eyes behind my eyes and feeling with the heart behind my heart.
I deliberately ignored who I was, what I believed, and what I knew to be my truth.
I, in essence, chose my ego over my soul because, in my grief, that was what
I was supposed to do. Isn't that how we deal with pain?
Don't we let our ego protect us from our feelings?
From our memories?
From our growing pains?
"The pain pushes until the vision pulls" ~ Michael Bernard Beckwith
"What are you going to do now? You've doubled down and you're still feeling, still remembering, still knowing. What do you know to be true for you; what do you finally see?"
These are the words I heard this morning while staring with tears in my eyes at my newly replanted, failing to thrive, Magnolia tree.
She was planted too close to my sun porch and one of her branches poked into my window, causing it to crack.
I moved her a few weeks ago and immediately nurtured her growth in her new surroundings.
It takes time, I assured her.
You will grow accustomed to your new foundation.
The sun will love you, water and food nourish you and you will grow big and tall and beautiful.
I can't wait to see you thrive.
"My Magnolia tree is dying!" "I did everything right and now she is turning brown and wilting!" "This isn't supposed to happen!" "She should be happy in her new spot!" "She is supposed to live!" "Damn it! I am so tired!"
"It is true that the leaves are browning and turning downward, but the roots are strong and the limbs are alive. Sometimes outer appearances show signs of despair while roots become stronger. She will survive. She will grow, she will thrive. She is loved. "
"No matter where she is?"
"No matter where she is."
This past month or so I have been busy.
Not the "oh, I'm so busy I couldn't possibly do that...." or the "oh, I'm so busy" habitual saying when asked casually "How's life been treating you"?
No, I've been busy buying, selling, rehabbing, moving while still maintaining my business and paying my bills, busy.
I've been so busy that my feet and hands are falling asleep while my brain is yelling at them to keep moving.
The kind of busy that wakes you up at 5 am and puts you to sleep at 8 pm busy while inhabiting your every awakened and every sleeping moment until you become a zombie of the mind.
That kind of busy.
Are you done listening to how busy I am?
So is Buddha.
Buddha has had enough of me being busy and has found many ways to tell me while I kept finding many ways to ignore him.
Today, I listened.
Today I sat.
I slowed down.
Buddha won as Buddha always does.
For weeks I have been focusing on my material being. My home, my desires, my wants and my expectations.
I've rehabbed a kitchen with the help of RickyP and TimmyToo.
Managed the plumber, the electrician, the painter, (UGGHHH),
the floor guys, the bathroom guy, the ceiling guys, the window guys, and the moving guys.
I've washed and waxed every nook and cranny of wood in this 1910 beauty that I call home and I've cooked a few meals.
I've even entertained a guest or two.
Do you know what I hadn't done?
Maintained my Spiritual practice.
I hadn't meditated.
I hadn't sat still and listened to my guides, I hadn't spoken to Mother Mary and I hadn't held my soul in loving space enough.
Nope, I was too busy being all material.
And I LOVED it!
Yes, I loved it.
It was fun, it was exhausting and it was tiring, but I enjoyed every second of it and am still intending to. Only this time, I will balance my life between work, rest, and play.
You see, it is OK to be out of balance for a bit.
Life does get hectic at times and life does tend to keep that see-saw up or down at times, but when that happens, we have to still pay attention to the signs that are being shown to us to become more in balance.
Balance is always the goal.
Balance allows all that is right to continue and all that doesn't appear right to be alright.
Today I began my day as I have been these past weeks...running.
Up to the attic to unpack those last remaining boxes before work.
So much to do, so little time to do it..... busy, busy, busy.
Box one, box two, box....
Then Buddha shows up again and finally gets through.
There he is.
Peacefully waiting to be unwrapped from the layer and layers of bubble wrap keeping him safe in his journey, waiting to be noticed. To be heard.
"Are you still?"
"I'm getting there."
"There is no "there", only here."
"I'm here, getting there!"
"There is no there, only here."
"I know! It is a figure of speech. I will be still when I am done and I'm not done yet."
"What is done to you?"
"Oh for the love of God, I don't know!"
I am yelling at Buddha.
I am standing alone in my sun room and I am yelling at my Buddha statue and my Buddha statue is laughing at me.
Not only is Buddha laughing at me, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Mother and the rest of "Team Jen" are having a field day with my disposition! My team is much more patient than I am, but there are limits and today, it has been reached. That buzzing in my ears and head is explosive and it is aimed directly at me.
Okay, I give up!
"Listen up everyone, I'm sitting and I am listening, start talking."
"Finally...listen up, we've got lots to say....."
The rest of the conversation is pretty simple.
Settle down, sit down and shush up. Get back to your life, but balance it. You've done well, now do better. Your spiritual practice awaits and we have lots to teach you so pull up a chair, shut your eyes and let us do our work.
One hour later I'm a bit more balanced and a lot more humbled.
As I always say...
Buddha always wins.
I'm a bit on the nutty side. I laugh loudly, I love deeply, I smile broadly, I get pissed when provoked and hold grudges. I converse with the dead, hang with the angels, see spirits and I wear sneakers with skirts. Always.
I really do.
I admit it, I am really nuts, and I love that about me and I love that about you.
Don't hide your nuttiness from me, I can see it and more importantly I encourage it!
Life encourages us to be nuts. If we weren't nuts we wouldn't have decided to come to this crazy, beautiful, amazing, scary, love-filled, hate-filled, brilliant and magical planet we call earth.
Earth, in all of her psychedelic colors, unimaginable animal life, vegetation, waterfalls, oceans, mountains, hills, suns and moons, indescribable sounds, tastes. pleasures, atmosphere, etc., encourages us to live a full and rich life of nutty.
How many times in this past week alone have you said, "that is nuts", "that is crazy", "that is insane", or my personal daily mantra of late "WTF is wrong with this world?!"
Earth is crazy and its inhabitants are even crazier and that, my friends, is nuts!
And there is no other way it could be.
We inhabit this huge round crystal ball that is somehow floating around in a solar system that began with a speck of dust and a star.
The Solar System was formed from a rotating cloud of gas and dust which spun around a newly forming star, our Sun, at its center.
The planets all formed from this spinning disk-shaped cloud and continued this rotating course around the Sun after they were formed.
The gravity of the Sun keeps the planets in their orbits.
They stay in their orbits because there is no other force in the Solar System which can stop them.
And here we are thinking somehow that we are supposed to be all serious.. to not have fun with this?
Even Neil deGrasse Tyson, astrophysicist, author, and science communicator, who may be the only living man who understands enough about how this thing works pokes fun at it.
That guy cracks me up.
We can not sur-thrive unless we embrace our inner nut.
Anyone of us, at this very moment could spend hours, if not years, debating the current political system, the economic outlook, the races, religions, education, health care system, global warming, as well as numerous other current issues that do indeed need to be discussed and "fixed" to make human life on earth more balanced, but let's keep the nutty alive.
I'm not advocating insane or delusional. That nut needs to stay in its shell.
I'm not a fan of greed, pharmacy over food, fiction over fact, religious wars, poverty wars, war of any type and if I had it my way, 90% or our current "leaders" in this world would be put on their own special island where they can create their own special hell and leave us nuts alone to create our Utopia.
I am advocating freedom to live fearlessly in our own uniqueness.
I advocate turning off the television, putting down the books, leaving the radio on mute, leaving your phone at home, unplugging the internet.
I am advocating tuning into ourselves and our own personal uniqueness, whatever that may be.
I am advocating thinking about how incredibly awesome you are and how your own brand of nuttiness is making this gorgeous piece of artwork that we inhabit home.
I am advocating owning both your darkness and light. Loving who you are and what you see when you look in the mirror.
I am advocating knowing that here, right now, without YOU, without me, this world would be less.
Less amazing, less beautiful, less psychedelic, less enjoyable, less creative, less diverse, less real.
Without you, without me, without them, we are less and being less is unacceptable.
Wear your hair purple if that makes you happy. Eat only veggies or eat only meat or eat both. Practice your religion and leave others to practice theirs. Drive an orange car, ride a motorcycle. hike a mountain, splash in a stream, swim in the ocean, ride your bike uphill and fly downhill, ski, run, laugh, live, sing, yell when you are pissed, cry when you are sad. Build your tribe of like-minded individuals and leave other tribes alone. Beat the crap out of a punching bag, eat ice cream or not, dance with abandon, wear sneakers with skirts. Tell a dirty joke and even better laugh at one. Be determined to live a life worth writing about, but above all, live your life in your own nutty way and let all others do the same.
Love yourself, love the earth, love one another and love your nutty life.
I've always been a John Lennon fan.
I must have been exposed to John Lennon while in the womb because I can not remember a time when I wasn't a John Lennon fan nor a time when his words didn't in some way either come into my head to either save my ass or to kick my ass.
His words, his spirit, his ideals seem to be woven into my DNA, so when I see or hear a quote from John Lennon, I stop whatever I am doing and I ponder.
Especially one that I have never heard before.
"Music is everybody's possession. It's only publishers who think that people own it." ~ John Lennon
This is the quote that appeared before me without even looking while feeling the need to write something.
I always know when I need to write something because I get this incredible heavy feeling in the back of my head and I feel an inexplicable need to sleep.
Most of the time it is a message from my guides that seeks to be heard, sometimes I need a nap.
Tonight it is a message.
Is there more to music than what you hear?
More than the lyrics, more than the rhythm, more than the tune, more than the sound. What do you hear, Jennifer?
What do you posses?
More like what is possessing me, but hey, I'll play along.
I do hear more than music.
I hear life.
I hear love.
I hear community.
I hear meaning.
For me, music isn't the lyrics, notes, rhythm, sound.
Music is the sound of life.
Music is the rhythmic beat of my heart, the gentle breeze as it wisps past me, the soft breath thru my nose, the gentle tap of my fingers on the keyboard, the click of my heels.
Music is the chirp of birds and the song of peepers.
It is children playing, people laughing, lawn mowers and chainsaws carving natures picture, dogs barking, leaves blowing, cars speeding by with radios blaring.
Music is a backdrop to a party, a hymn at a funeral, a song in your soul, a tune in your whistle.
Music is the vibration that moves us closer to one another.
Music is the continual underlying vibration, sounds for most, that are uniquely interpreted by each individual soul in which God speaks.
They way in which you interpret unique vibrations into sounds is the way your soul hears God.
It is nourishment for your soul's growth.
So, you are telling me that God speaks to Stacy using the Rolling Stones and God speaks to me using the Beatles.
We are explaining that each member of the Rolling Stones and each member of the Beatles heard and interpreted vibrations that uniquely resonated a feeling, a desire, a spark, an epiphany of sorts that led to the recipe of sounds and words that became the music in which you hear, in an individually unique way that your soul in turn interpreted into soul growth.
This specific type of soul growth is another way in which God speaks to YOU.
Well, it appears to me God liked talking to the Beatles way more than the Stones.
God doesn't pick favorites.
That is why you remain a "sprouting seed."
Tonight I was one in a community pulled together by music to help one of our own during her personal life crisis.
A young, vibrant, loving and gifted soul, with a loving community beside her, is facing an uphill battle in her victory over Hodgkin's Lymphoma.
Her life forever different but not cut short.
A community different too.
I watched, no, I felt, friends and strangers sing the chorus of beloved songs in the auditorium of a small elementary school that only weeks before heard the cries of anger at the announcement of its closing in the near future.
I heard the history of the building whisper its stories to me while Sam and Ron passionately sang for a hopeful crowd.
Sam's voice blending with the Angels as Ron channeled the composers of long, long ago.
With each blending of voice and each rise and fall of the notes, I started to see the chimes singing in the wind, the raindrops grouping lyrically into a puddle and the symphony of waves, rocks, birds, pianos, saxophones, guitars, rising together in a vibration that furthers us closer to our highest selves.
I felt, with my eyes shut and ears opened, the beauty of our world and its love for us.
I began to, in some small way understand a possession of my own music.
Tonight we were a community in concert, brought together for one.
I moved with the rhythm of life while pondering its music.
Music touches us.
It reaches into the depth of our beings.
It conjures memories, sparks love, motivates our workouts, lulls us to sleep, nurtures our creativity, lifts our spirits, speaks to our souls.
Music spurs discussions between friends and strangers.
Almost weekly my old high school friend, Aaron, will spark a new discussion about a record, a song, a band, and I, will quietly and curiously observe as their knowledge of this music is far greater than mine and laugh as the conversation typically becomes an essay into each others life.
Music will ask questions like Pete Seeger's
"Where have all the flowers gone"
Creedence Clearwater Revival's
"Who'll stop the Rain"
"Should I stay or should I go?"
Crosby Stills and Nash
"For What its Worth"
"Who are You"
Music also tells us stories.
Stories like Arlo Guthrie's, "Alice's Restaurant",
Bob Dyan's "Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Heart"
Simon and Garfunkle's
Which also asks the question
"Where did you go, Joe DiMaggio"?
Music will define us either deeper into or further away from our individual beliefs;
"Give Peace a Chance"
"Born in the USA" and
"Man in the Mirror"
Music, in whatever form resonates with the listener, is the vibrational thread that binds us together.
Music is ours to posses.
To create the perfect conditions for growth within our individual garden. Music is the soil, the water, the sun, the moon and the perfect environment for which our soul seed blossoms.
What do you hear, Jennifer? What do you posses?
I hear grace. I posses a promise.
Music is a promise that life will continue to go on.
The wind will always blow leaves, the waves will always crash against the rocks and fall back across the sand.
Birds will always chirp and dogs, unfortunately, will always bark at 6 am on a Sunday morning.
Children will play, hearts will beat, blood will pump, sighs will be sighed.
Angels will always use our voices and composers will always find a way to come back to play again.
Tears will drop, noses will blow, laughter will be heard, songs will be sung.
John Lennon will always be on the radio somewhere.
Tomorrow may not look like today, but the music in which life vibrates will always bring us a new promise of life everlasting.
"Yeah we all shine on, like the moon, and the stars, and the sun." ~ John Lennon
Spring has sprung and with the arrival of green grass, green leaves, warmer air, bluer skies, singing birds, daffodils and seedlings popping up in gardens all over so arrives the overload of all things money.
Yes, it is spring and rather than focusing on the beauty of nature, we are being inundated with the reminder that not only is grass green, but so is money.
Billboards with huge pictures of money pouring out of windows, reminding us to update our air conditioning, borrow money for home improvements, grow money with higher interest CD's, plant seeds of money today and watch them grow all summer.
Commercials telling us to save money at the local Home Depot or Lowes for all of our weekend warrior projects.
Money, money, money...how to earn it, how to grow it, how to cultivate it, how to keep it, how to love it, how to have more of it, how to whatever you can imagine, there is a way to do it.
Life runs on money, especially, it would appear, in spring.
I love spring.
Well, maybe not the May flies and allergies, but the rest, yeah, I love it all.
I love the renewal of energy that comes with spring.
The simpleness of spring and the hope it grows for a new season.
Tiny sprouts getting ready to grow into food for us.
Whether it be edible, nourishing food or food for thought,
Spring sprouts bring us nourishment after a long winter rest.
We are awakened and ready to grow and boy does commercialism know it.
We've been programmed to always think about money, but never more than in spring.
Every day I open up an email offering me a new way to think about money, to learn about money, to allow money to flow to me, or to give away my money in order to bring more money to me.
Every time I turn on the tv there is a commercial, a new report, a guru, a something to guide me into the dark, the scary and complex world of money.
The world in which I must need help in because so many are offering to help me in it.
The world where green grass means nothing unless it is growing money somewhere and where leaves aren't the only things that grow on trees.
Oh, Yes, Money. Great and Wonderful MONEY.
All these reminders, these classes, these commercials, these teachers who so graciously remind me how worthless, how uninspired, how useless, boring, simple and small I am without enough money. How absolutely insignificant my life is without abundances of money and in just a few easy steps for the easy payment of only... or by shopping at the right store and investing in the right bank and listening to the new guru I too can be fulfilled by having money.
I'm calling bullshit on this.
Money Sells. Money sells faster with the insinuation of fear and I'm not buying into it.
No amount of money will fulfill me or enhance my life unless I understand what is of value and what is not.
Yes, money is indeed very helpful in today's society and money does tend to make the world go round money is necessary for basic survival. I like being able to pay my mortgage, drive a car, be warm in the winter, eat, but for fuck's sake, can we stop being intimidated by money?
Could we just enjoy the little flowers that are smiling at us when we smile at them without wondering how much money it will cost to enjoy them?
Can we enjoy the symphony of the birds during the day and the owls at night without fearing if we are wasting our time enjoying rather than working?
Could we stop looking at our bank accounts and start looking at the hiking path that will lead us to the most beautiful of waterfalls and see the riches that Mother Nature offers us free of charge?
Is it possible to enjoy all that we have and enjoy earning money pursuing what we love without the constant fear of never having enough or never having what the other guy has?
Can't we have it all without having all of it?
Dear God, what do we have to do to catch a break?
For one, we have to understand that money is not what propels us.
Money is what holds us back.
Money, no fear of the lack of money, keeps us from exploring life"s boundaries.
The boundaries that our souls are here to explore and break.
Think about this for a moment.
Think of the word MONEY.
Five letters when put together in this pattern elicit incredibly complex emotions in our egotistical, human mind.
This five letter word has the potential to raise us or ruin us, but very rarely will it balance us, and balance is exactly what we need when it comes to money.
I grew up in small town, USA, the grand-daughter of a highly respected businessman who resided on the main street of small town, USA.
My grandfather was a good man who worked very hard for his respect and his money and I was graced with financial blessings because of this.
I was also a motherless daughter.
At 7 years old my mother died leaving behind my 10-year-old sister and two-week old baby brother.
Money doesn't buy back the dead.
My girlfriend, a very beautiful and successful singer lost her brother a few years back to cancer.
He left behind 2 young children who will forever be without their father.
Parents who will be forever without their son.
Money doesn't buy back the dead.
My best friend lost her dad at an age when she was just starting her own family. Her father won't be attending her children's weddings, nor did he attend their graduations, birthdays, holidays and other significant life events.
Money doesn't buy back the dead.
I could go on and on, listing every friend I have who has lost a child, a father, mother, brother or sister, but I don't need to because you have lost them as well.
Money can't buy them back no matter how much money we have.
Love and loss aren't dictated by money.
Nor should our lives.
Our lives should be lived and memories built in the pursuit of happiness, not the pursuit of money.
Money does play a part in our lives, but never should it be so important that it consumes us and clogs us from simple joys and basic blessings, which are of course never basic at all.
I type these words not as someone who has risen above the fear of money, but as someone who is guilty of falling prey to it almost on a daily basis and is lucky enough to have caught a few tidbits of wisdom here and there and nip the fear in the ass when it rears its ugly face.
I caught myself last night when talking to my adventurous daughter, Paige, who packed a few bags last year and headed to CA in pursuit of her happiness.
I fell right into the "you should be a nurse" conversation.
You know, the "you need money, it is safe, it is respectable, it is secure" conversation that great mom's do when they think their babies need protection because somehow money and security go hand and hand.
I caught myself quickly last night and for that I am grateful.
Wisdom speaks very softly but does indeed speak loud enough to those who are willing to listen.
Wisdom tells us that money is indeed a wonderful energy to surround yourself around without getting lost in its allure.
Money offers us opportunities to grow, to expand and experience.
It offers all things material for ourselves and our loved ones.
It offers us tomorrows adventures if we are smart enough to live for only the magic of today.
Money is an invaluable asset and I don't discount the necessity of it, but I also will never pursue it so much that it ruins my Spring.
Typically the more money we have, the more we can spend, grow, share, explore, expand and play and in that way, money does make the world go round. Money in of itself holds no value, but how it is used, what it is used for and how it is managed is of value. The energy of money, like all energy is movement. Money must be used in order for it to be of value, but what is of value is what I pursue.
Money can't buy me abundance.
I can't plant money seeds and get money bushes.
I can't call money on a Monday night and talk to it about football.
I can't hold money on a cold night and I sure as hell can't feel its warmth from a tender hug or a passionate kiss.
I can't hold it tight to me and nurture it as I did my children.
Money doesn't text me out of the blue and asks "Are you smiling today?" like my friend, Steve, who I haven't seen in twenty plus years does every few weeks since he saw me falling down the rabbit hole during the elections.
Money doesn't read my blogs and offer me thoughtful insights like my friend, Chris, who also isn't a daily confidant but an old high school friend.
Money doesn't message me with some calming words of advice after he notices I may be heading into the crazy zone after the election of 45 in the way my old friend Ed did, who again I haven't seen since high school and currently lives in VA.
Money can't give me A- blood like my best friend Stacey can.
Money also can't get stupid silly drunk with me like Stacey can either!
There is something to say about old money, but it doesn't hold a candle to old friends.
Money is an energetic vibration that will rise with us when we pursue that in which we rise to.
Maybe because I am a child without a mother I can see differently the pursuit of happiness or maybe because being without money doesn't frighten me as much as being without people does, but for whatever reason, I would rather pursue the joy of wealth rather than the pursuit of money.
Happy Spring, everyone. Enjoy the abundance it has to offer.
“Money is a guarantee that we may have what we want in the future. Though we need nothing at the moment it insures the possibility of satisfying a new desire when it arises.” --Aristotle
“If we command our wealth, we shall be rich and free. If our wealth commands us, we are poor indeed.” —Edmund Burke
One year ago, I sold my home and opted to rent until I figured out what next great path I should journey on. Both of my children having recently graduated college, were beginning new lives for themselves and I, turning 50 had some very difficult personal choices to make as well, so what better way to make difficult choices than to completely turn my life inside out and upside down?
I packed my favorite memories in boxes and set off to unpack them somewhere else. I found some greener grass, a few newer windows to look out of and a nice comfy cozy deck to meditate on. I bought a new Smart TV to watch football on as well as a king size bed with soft, fuzzy blankets to wrap up in.
I unpacked my memories, hung them on walls, put them on shelves and put candy in my grandmother's Fenton Amethyst Carnival glass bowl. I added a few flowers to some antique vases, put them on the new tablecloth and proceeded to settle in. I had everything set, sneakers tied, enthusiasm at a 10, new life beginning, path murky, but hey, I can swim and I always have an inner Soul light to guide me through the dark.
It is in this dark that I grew and dare I say, transformed. The labels placed upon me, of which I was once so comfortable with, changed as each layer of my past revealed itself to me. Each person, event, thought, hurt, dream, loving feeling, waves of anger, revealing itself through meditation, dreams, and daily activities.
Memories taken from boxes were thoughtfully inspected.
Some lovingly and some with full fury.
Days filled with joy and days filled with sorrow, but filled none the less. Never a day went by that didn't contain some message of renewal, growth. I learned I had to listen before they would stop talking. To stop letting them haunt me, but rather to comfort me. I chose to not fight them or hide from them or be afraid of them.
I chose light and light offered me darkness and in that darkness, rest came.
These boxed memories opened a priceless dialogue. Each item offering me deep conversations with their original owners. I was able to hear with a deeper, wiser set of ears and see with clearer eyes the lessons that each memory, each item, each ancestor had to teach me.
Crying cleansed the windows of my soul while laughter filled it back up.
I found myself angry more times than not, but after the anger came the wisdom. The wisdom to let it GROW, not GO.
I learned that by letting go I didn't heal, but by letting "grow" I did.
I allowed the words that broke me as a child, wound me as a wife, and tear me apart as a daughter and sister, eventually nourish me. I began to have a tiny spark of realization that although those careless words did indeed cut me, there were many, many more bandages put on my wounds by loving and intentional hands and hearts. That I could somehow hear the words, see the memories and feel the emotions while also becoming wiser to where they came from.
I was able to finally understand that those words, those actions, those memories, those people who played such an important role in my life came from generations far different than mine and certainly far different than today.
My beautiful grandmother who would sometimes say the most horrid things and act out in not so nice ways was not much different than me. I began to notice my patterns, my actions, my habits. I allowed myself to recall my past with her as if I were an adult, not the child I was. I did this whenever a memory came up and I became more understanding. Wisdom started to flow through memories as an observer and not a participant. I did this with all of my ancestors until one day I had an epiphany.
My ancestors are OLD!
They lived for hundreds of years before me!
My grandmother, who in my lifetime seemed no different than I, living a life no different than I, was raised in a generation that didn't have bathrooms in their homes. They did not have running water!
Think about this....
My grandmother's mother, my great grandmother, could not wash her hands in a sink with running water after flushing a toilet in her own home until she was well into her adult life. Her mother and father (my great-great grandparents) never, ever had that luxury at all.
Think about this!
Some of my childhood insecurities are direct descendants of outhouses!
Do you get this?
How can I possibly let those hurts, those angers, those hates, those insecurities cloud my life now? They come from a generation that didn't have running water and that generation came from even less! They were practically cave-men!
Seriously, this is important stuff.
I have subconsciously been holding onto deep, deep rooted weeds that more than likely originated with famine. Scarcity. Fear. Big Sticks as weapons.
This means I raised my kids with a belief system that stemmed from pretty dysfunctional parents who lived through Vietnam, who came from a generation whose parents lived through WWII whose parents lived through WWI , whose parents lived through the Civil war and the Revolutionary war and since I don't know more history than that, were cave men.
Honestly, I don't know much history beyond that, but I do know that somewhere I have a deep rooted belief system that came from someone who lived hundreds of years ago, eating raw meat they killed with big huge sticks because fire wasn't invented! Fire wasn't invented!
Those seeds needed to go as well as whatever life form may have come from them. Get me some of that heavy duty weed killer, man, 'cause I got some serious weeds to get rid of.
We all do.
What are we doing holding onto this shit?
All that murky water stems from a house with no plumbing and a mentality that originated from only survival.
There is a part of our DNA that has roots in only basic survival.
Our strongest and deepest root is planted in survival and it is from this root in which our entire ancestral lineage flows.
This is the blood that flows through our veins, our minds, our hearts.
This is the blood that our souls want us to remember and gain wisdom from, not derive fear, hate, anger, hunger, sorrow and insecurities. Our souls understand survival, but our souls thrive on growth, wisdom, joy, understanding, commitment, loyalty, love. All of which derives from our root need to survive.
Those memories, those words, those actions that either brought us joy or brought us tears have caveman origins in a world of electronica. We use our washed, dried, clean hands to check our phones, read our mail, do our groceries...check our bank accounts as well as numerous other trivial and countless things, yet our minds are still holding onto past hurts, past words, past actions that directly descend from dirty, unwashed hands that tore apart squirrel for dinner!
Dear God, this is crazy! Mind Blown!
We have plumbing, people, start flushing!
Flush that shit and wash your hands of it!
We have the ability to do more than survive.
We can "Sur-Thrive"!
Our ancestors didn't intentionally hurt us, they didn't have the capacity and the understanding to live with intention as we now do. They were basic creatures meant to survive and damn it, they did it very, very well! Every person from day one brings a thought or a memory or a belief from a time that we will never, ever know nor possibly understand, yet it is in our blood.
These boxes of memories have given me a light and a love and an appreciation that I have never had before.
This time in between homes has taught me the difference between
"Sur-viving" and "Sur-thriving" as well as the wisdom to know that
"Sur-thriving" is intentional and "sur-viving" is the habit.
That in order to live a life worth living I must break old habits and forge new pathways.
I must thoughtfully think and compassionately listen before accepting others words into my spirit as gospel and I must be ever diligent with the words that come from my mouth towards another. That I may never mean harm, but words without intention are never understood correctly and actions without love are always self-serving.
That in order to live in wisdom, I must choose to be wise and that if I want to be understood, then I must be more understanding.
I have realized this past year that I am more than basic survival, but I am also a long, long way from enlightened. Luckily I have a few pair of sneakers and don't mind going barefoot on occasion.
My journeys will bring me much of the unexpected, but I know my soul will always light my way when I choose to live intentionally.
I am now packing once again to head out into another journey.
This journey will find me in a 1910 colonial with running water,
flush able toilet, safe roof, walls, and foundation.
It will meet my basic survival needs, but more importantly, I will intentionally "Sur-Thrive" in it.
I will unpack my grandmother's Fenton Amethyst candy bowl, add new candy and place my boxed memories back on the gorgeous wood that gives this home some of its charms.
I will lovingly hang pictures of Paige and Alex on the walls and hopefully add pictures of their families next to them somewhere in the future.
I will host family gatherings, football parties, holidays and more in this safe haven in which I call home. I will create loving and happy memories while being sheltered during the inevitable difficult times that will appear on this journey. I will add to the DNA of this house in a thoughtful and generous manner and I will continue to embrace the growth, the strength and the longevity of my ancestral DNA under the bright light of my ever expanding Soul.
I have to say, there are some pretty fantastic benefits to being old and observant. Or maybe I should be saying wise and observant, but let's be honest, wisdom comes with age and quite frankly, I am getting aged or as my twenty something kids would say "Mom, you're old".
I am ok with that.
Being old doesn't faze me.
Being old without being observant scares the shit out of me and it is far to often the normal.
In my late 40's I started realizing that there is a seductive trance that starts to engulf us humans.
We begin to become complacent in the complacency of living.
Not really happy, nor unhappy, just sort of breathing without taking a breath, talking but never speaking and listening but never fully hearing.
We eat until our bellies are full but never feed our souls. Our minds are working over time with the chatter of nothingness, our eyes seeing only what our illusions allow us. Our hardened hearts pumping the blood of life dutifully without our noticing the subtleties of its grace.
"I am here, in your heart, hear me, feel me, know me."
We are busy, busy, busy. Busy with running our lives. Running our kids here and there, running our chores, our jobs, our social lives, our relationships, our financial future, our family, our faith. We run and run and run, but we never stop. We never win. We never jog. We run, even when we run over our friends, family, loved ones. We don't notice the path of destruction we leave when we run...we just run because that is what we do.
Few among men are they who cross to the further shore. The others merely run up and down the bank on this side.
We believe we are running our lives, but in reality, we are just running from life. We forget to live a life worth living. We let our lives run us and we just try to keep up. We "keep on keeping" and "run on Dunkin" and we are none the wiser.
"Older but not wiser."
We are so busy, busy, busy that we forget to notice the loneliness of this sport without a team. The solitude of running offers little time for social engagement and interaction with members of a team.
We often forget that WE are ONE WITH not just one.
I am he
As you are he
As you are me
And we are all together~Lennon
When did we stop observing?
When did we stop meandering?
When did life begin to bind us to money, possessions, competition, wars?
When did the butterfly become just a butterfly and a star filled night become bedtime?
When did we stop staring at the moon and wonder if it were really cheese?
When did ice cream become fattening instead of amazing?
When the hell did televison become "reality" and nature become a fucking parking lot?!
When did bombing countries become just another news ticker and when did we stop looking for the butter under our chins while making wishes on dandelions?
Why do we wait until we are sick in bed to "call in sick"?
When the hell did Ferris Bueller's stop playing hooky?
Was it when we got old or was it when we stopped being observant?
We stopped observing life!
We stopped living with intention.
We decided somewhere along the way that an alarm clock should be the first thing we hear to start our day rather than the first ray of sunlight kissing our noses.
We decided that after the nightly news is bedtime rather than falling asleep with the light on and a book in our hands or better yet, in the arms of our lover.
We watched time.
We listen to music on the radio rather than the music of nature.
We swim in pools, not ponds, eat fish from the grocer instead of the streams.
We buy our food rather than cultivate it.
We don't eat ice cream because we are lactose intolerant!! WTF?!
When did we begin to allow life to run us rather than us flowing with life?
I will tell you when.
When we decided being an adult meant not being a kid and being a kid was the only time we are allowed to observe anything.....everything!
To question anything and everything!
To ask millions of "how comes" and "whys."
To dare to question the unknown and observe the how comes.
How many times have we answered our kids questions with laughter but got annoyed when adults asked the same thing.
My kids both asked me "Mom, why is my poop brown"? and I always laughingly answered them, but heaven forbid I ask them the same question!
NO! I get, "MOM! STOP ASKING ME THAT QUESTION!"
Geez...let's go back to being a kid, kids. No need to yell at me. I just asked a question....
How do we begin at the beginning?
You know, the toddler years?
Those years when we opened every door to see what surprise was hidden. When we banged on pots and pans with wooden spoons just because we wanted to make music. We didn't care whether or not the music would earn us a living. We just wanted to make music. Bang the pots with spoons and giggle with delight at the sound that we created.
How do we bring back the unabashedly curious little soul that annoyed the hell out of the adult?
How do we change this perception that when "adulting" one must not bang on pots and pans.
Is there a way to "adult" with play-doh and finger paints? Is there a path to joy, love and creativity once we hit "adult" that doesn't start with frown, furrow, fake and forget?
Can we pick buttercups and put them under our co-workers chins?
Why not? We are aging, not turning to stone!
Our age does not automatically prevent us from being child like. Our idiotic belief systems do.
We most certainly can be playful and we can encourage those around us to do so as well.
We can start by leading by example.
The next time you are running late, slow down. Be late. It's OK.
The next time you don't have time to cook dinner, eat a big bowl of piping hot oatmeal with maple syrup.
Better yet, eat an organic waffle with a scoop of small batched ice cream and real whipped cream and enjoy every bite-full.
Just because we are allowing ourselves to be kids doesn't mean we shouldn't eat wholesome "junk" food.
The next time your kids want to jump in a puddle, let them! While you are at it, jump with them. Laugh and be silly with your kids...get wet, you won't melt!
The next time you get the sniffles, call in sick. Don't wait for the flu to keep you in bed. Get some kleenex, turmeric and ginger tea, and a great book while you enjoy getting well.
The next time your boss sets a deadline, don't fret.
We all have deadlines, you can do it without losing your hair.
Be calm, be happy and be of service.
Seriously, we all have jobs, deadlines, bills, kids, soccer, baseball, dinners and more. We also have time. We have time for all of life. Just make sure you are using your time to live life well.
Turn off the news on the TV.
Nothing ruins "adult" more than someone jawing their opinion at you.
Turn off the phone.
YES. Turn off your phone for the first hour at home and at night one hour before bed. Nothing productive comes from your cell phone once the kids are asleep and the moon is beckoning an audience.
Wake up in the morning to the sun kissing your eyes open.
Meditate for a minimum of 20 minutes in the morning.
Allow the loving Universe to awaken you to the day.
Enjoy that cup of coffee or tea.
One of the best things about "adulting" is that first warm sip of coffee or that first sniff of Earl Grey. Aaahhh....
Sing in the shower, dance while getting dressed, kiss yourself in the mirror. All the kids kiss themselves in the mirror.
They are beautiful and so are you.
Enjoy your job.
Even if your job sucks, there is something to enjoy. If there isn't, leave.
You do not have time to waste 40 hours of your week in some shithole.
No kid would ever stick around if they weren't have fun.
Adults shouldn't either.
I'm now nearing my 51st year as a child and every day I observe wisely and wisely observe.
I watch closely the beauty blossoming around me.
I feel deeply the laughter and the tears of the "living news" as well as notice my thoughts when I get inside myself too long and quickly change them if I need to.
The Cathedral of my soul needs some dusting once in a while, but I'm not going to polish the floors with a toothbrush.
I hear keenly the words of the people around me and if their words wound me, I move on to happier voices, whether family or friend. Children know to leave when the "mean kid" is around, so do I.
I choose to be nourished by high quality, often sweet and gooey, organic nutrients, not the sale brand, stuck in a corner bin of outdated hurts, angers, judgement, beliefs, and hatefilled people. I eat, drink and be merry with merry people and I never, ever wait until I am sick to "call in sick". That would be a huge waste of a perfectly perfect day.
I turn my phone off when I read, walk, sing, dance, laugh, eat, play and poop. I turn my phone off. I tune out so I can tune in. Daily.
Meditation starts my morning and ends my day and is more than often my 3:00 pick me up.
Without having this time to hear God, my prayers to God are useless.
I kiss myself all day long. Yup! I do. I see a mirror and there I go, kissing all over the place.
Now when I hear Paul and John remind me to "wake up, get out of bed, drag a comb across my head.", I do so at my own old pace. Slowly, intently and playfully and I never waste an opportunity to yell...
"Hey, kids! I have a question for you!"
Yeah, I like being old and observant. It has its perks! Give it a try.
Recently I submitted one of my blog posts to my favorite online community for publication.
This particular blog was inspired from an untimely, yet all to familiar death of a young man. It quietly streamed from my souls desire to expand in wisdom and my hearts tender tears for those in such pain. The process of writing allows a channel to flow through me in which emotions buried so deep within me are given oxygen to expand, roam, grow, understand, reconcile , and with intent, release into my wise and evolving soul to become acceptance, peace, wisdom and love. It is this process, along with my art (doodles), I am able to settle just a bit more into "I Am".
The rawness of this blog was especially difficult for me to write because of the sheer enormity of pain those around me were feeling. A pain so deep I felt the pull to share it with my online community.
At 2 am I chose to send it via email for approval. By 11 am I received a response.
Thank you for putting yourself out there and sharing something that could be of benefit to many.
There are many interesting parts in your piece but I would like you to dig deeper into one theme. Now it's a bit hard to find a clear message in this. What is the point, the take away here, for readers? It will also be helpful to include more of your personal story for readers to connect to. What inspired you to write this? Think big (in terms of your universal message), but write small (make it personal).
WHAT?! ####! ####! How personal is personal? !
I am, at my deepest core self, a sailor, so colorful language as a part of my "artistic communicative" side, is not only vivid, it is offered quite frequently in very generous amounts. This would be no exception. I knew I could continue to create with colorful language or create with my paint brush and easel. Being a well rounded Gemini, I opted for both.
I also opted to invade the art room where my son Alex was quite contently painting his Warhammer models. The boy is a Saint.
I had no idea what was to emerge from my brush, but the desire to flush my emotions onto canvas rather than lock them into a pretty box somewhere inside of me to be puked out during what would inevitably be an inappropriate time and directed at most likely an innocent bystander was a wiser choice. I grabbed some grey and allowed the stillness of my being emerge.
I thought about my personal story. I thought about the 7 year old girl who lost her mother to "God" because he "needed her in Heaven"
I thought about the 8 year old girl who lost her identity when her father remarried 14 months after that death.
I cried through the years that followed up to the 18 year old who was forced to become an adult on her own in a world that she believed hated her under a God she believed betrayed her with a dysfunctional and more often than not abusive father who deserted her at the words "she is your mother now".
I raged at the past with each stroke of grey. I cursed the circumstances that led to the birth of my older sister to a 15 year old mother and a 17 year old father, my birth to a 17 year old mother and a 19 year old father and to the birth of my younger brother 7 years later which resulted in the death of a 26 year old woman after giving birth to her premature son.
I allowed the fury to focus on the woman who claimed that boy as her own just a few short months after the passing of his mother.
I allowed resentment and hatred to expand towards the man who was supposed to be a father to his dead wife's daughters. The girls, who at 8 and 10 were much to young to understand death let alone the ego driven insecurities of a woman who would be asked and agreed to "take her place."
My rage at the childhoods altered, the identities stolen, the years of abuse and subsequent erasure of sisters, family, hope... beginning with "she is your mother now, you will never speak of your mother again. Your brother is not to know."
Grabbing some yellows and oranges, I painted lines and waves, weaving the colors around one another, my son quietly constructing his models on the table beside me. Each and every tear dropping onto my pallet blending the colors together. Grey becoming almost unnoticeable with the addition of salty tears. Yellows loosing all vibrancy and oranges almost brown. Pain, words, memories, experiences, family betrayals taking shape onto a canvas. My entire young life being played over and over again through older eyes. Painting, blending, crying, creating, until I noticed a shape emerging. Out of the hate, the rage, the betrayals, the guilt and shame for who I was, who I had to be, who I should have been, who I wanted to live and who I wanted to die, a small butterfly was taking shape. The yellows began to brighten and the oranges shaped themselves into wings. I laughed at the irony of the butterfly from the cocoon and the total lack of originality emerging from my painting a butterfly during this time. I mean, really, who wouldn't have painted a butterfly? It is over simplification at its finest.
Redundant. Simple. Boring. Uninspired. One of the herd...
Hello Ego self... Hello all the voices in my head telling me how unimportant, uninspired and completely transparent I am. Everyone's life is shit. Get over it. You think you are the only one to feel pain? Suffering? Despair? Baby. People die. People make choices. Live with it. Deal with it.
Hello deep self hate, it has been a while.
"What have you to teach me"?
"Keep painting, keep feeling, keep allowing, keep purging, let the butterfly emerge".
For hours I added more and more lines of anger, swirls of sadness and drops of tears. I added every ounce of hate I could muster towards every person, place, circumstance and event that popped up and then I turned on myself. I listened as my ego belittled me. I listened as the words penetrated so deeply that I though I would drown in their disdain for me. I added purples and blues, blacks and more black to the hatred I had for allowing so many years to be wasted on situations, people and circumstances that were way beyond my control and quite frankly way beyond my pay scale in this abundant Universe I have now just begun to understand and work for.
I sat for what could have only been a minute to an hour looking at my butterfly in its newest stage until my son made his presence known in my bubble of pain.
"I like the colors, Mom. You've always been great at matching colors".
"I think I am lost, Alex." "I think I am letting anger get the better of me again." "I'm full of hate."
"Nah, none of that is true, you are interpreting. It's what all great artists do when they need inspiration to go further."
"Yeah, just don't cut your ear off and you will be fine."
Like I said, I raised a saint.
In that moment I saw a totally different butterfly emerge. I saw an ugly, manure filled past unfold into a radiant and often very messy life filled with remarkable achievements and crushing defeats melding into some sort of harmonious life.
My life, a life that could have ended early had I not married young to a man who is an exceptional father and extraordinary role model as to how a man should love his children with or without his wife, and had I not been so determined to make it "right" with the birth of my own two amazing children, will continue to take on new colors and interpretations.
I will always drench my soul in new colors while retaining some (maybe still too much) of that grey it began in. There will always be moments where I am triggered to go back to the past to fuel more wisdom, more growth, more understanding, more self love and as long as I don't cut off any ears, I will be fine.
As for sharing my blog? I am keeping it the way it is. I'm not much for altering the past. I'll stick with the messy perfection of the moment.
My heart is aching this morning.
Sadness has once again gripped my heart, my soul, rippling through my core and begging me to feel its tenderness, its compassion, its depth of despair, its meaning so that I may help those that I care so deeply for through this process of grief.
Another young life has succumbed to the epidemic of drugs and alcohol. His life ravaged by the pain of confusion and despair known only to himself. Hidden within himself so deeply that his clarity, he believed, came with drug use. Darkness pursued him, pushed him and ultimately killed him. Some call this type of mental anguish "Demons" in our soul.
I do not.
Demons are the characters of chilling stories, horrifying movies, figures designed to incite and induce fear into our ego selves beginning from childhood religions and fables passed down from generation to generation. Fairy Tales of hero's and villains, evil and light, good and bad.
No, demons do not the reside inside of us. At least not the oogy-boogie kind our images show us. No. Not demons. Ego.
The ego is an identity of our own construction, an identity which is false. If we take all the beliefs of what we are – beliefs about our personality, talents, and abilities – we have the structure of our ego. These talents, abilities and aspects of our personality will be attributes of our skills, but the mental construct of our “self” is artificial. Fake. False. Based in Fear.
"Fear= False Evidence Appearing Real "
And while this description might make the ego seem like a static thing, it is not. Rather, it is an active and dynamic part of our personalities, playing an immense role in creating emotional drama in our lives created by beliefs we interpret emotionally.
The ego hides behind the “I” and “me” in those declarative thoughts and statements about our identity, which again are Fear based...False...
"Fear= False Evidence Appearing Real"
When we have such thoughts and agree with even the slightest conviction that these ideas define us, then we are building, or reinforcing, an ego. We first have these thoughts when we are kids, perhaps when we were teased on the playground, or when reprimanded or praised by a teacher or parent. In all cultures, developing a self-image is a normal part of socialization. Problems arise, however, when that self-image is negative, inaccurate, or even overly positive. Considering that we develop our concept of “self” as children, it is inevitable that our self-image doesn’t map to reality as adults.~Gary van Warmerdam
"We see what we have been told, we believe what we are told which is based on what other people see and tell us. It is NOT TRUE!"
The ego is difficult to see, because it hides behind opinions that appear true – our attachment to descriptions of our identity – and because we haven’t practiced looking.
We have not been taught to look inside for the answers.
Why teach self observation, self love, self assurance and self discipline when it is so much easier to teach about demons?
To the unaware person, it is difficult to discern the difference between what is ego and what is really them. They are left to wonder, “What came over me that I reacted that way?” Even their post-emotional analysis lacks the consideration to see the different parts of their belief system at work as separate from themselves. As a result, everything they express is blamed on “themselves” by one of the condemning voices in their head...demons .. In effect, the ego hijacks the analysis and turns it into a self-criticism/blame process. When the ego controls the self-reflection process you have no chance of seeing the root cause of your emotional dramas, as the ego reaffirms itself and hides in the self-criticism. ~ Gary van Warmerdam
We are at our deepest level pure light. Light that comes from love. Love that encompasses all, that all is created from. Levels of vibrations are levels of love. Love is all there is.
John Lennon made famous "All you need is love, love is all you need."
Cool bumper stickers are made from this. Add a peace symbol and there is a real message. Only problem is very few really resonate with what the hell he meant. Catch phrases are a funny thing...they play with your ego mind by creating a rhyme, a tiny something that your ego mind can ponder over and over until it becomes a catchy phrase that we repeat. So while we repeat this over and over, our ego is satisfied, but our SOUL is not. Our soul desires its meaning. It desires to understand, to explore, to seek its self through vibration. Vibrations, high or low , stem from our emotional intelligence based on the level of love in which we are vibrating from. Resonating from. Think of it as a ceiling fan that is able rotate at the level of speed in which the knob is turned from the wall. Low to high, its main source is electricity, but the electricity current drives the movement which is controlled by the turn from the knob on the wall.
We are high functioning levels of vibration that seek to experience this life in all of its messy glory. From the deepest grains of despair to the highest growth of euphoria, our souls seek to experience it all. This is the meaning of life as I see it and have been taught it through my Angels, Guides, Spirit and Ancestral Realm as well as countless Earthly Beings of Light and Love. I know this to my core, yet my heart is aching and my mind is reeling. My soul shakes to the core with anger, sadness, confusion and a desperation to DO something to FIX this messy world we live in.
I can't fix jack shit.
I can not magically erase the angst on earth. I can't eradicate drug and alcohol, hatred and bigotry, fear and scarcity. I can't do a damn thing to FIX this F'n world that is blinding us from the truth that "Love is all you need, Love is all there is".
I can't erase negative thought belief in someone else's ego.
I can't replace their fear with truth. Their evidence with my reality.
I can, however, hold space in my heart and my soul for love. I can meditate on peace. I can meditate on love and I can meditate on expansion. I can hold myself in the highest form of vibration that I am capable of at this moment in my souls understanding. I can continue to grow higher and higher with every breath and every intention I send out and seek in. I can bring change with my thoughts, my intentions, my love and my spiritual practice which continually seeks to give and receive love.
We all can.
We can start by listening to our Souls voice. That still quiet voice that resides in us meant to guide us through the maze of experience. This is the knowledge we are to learn.
We do not learn to live our lives with intention. We do not learn at birth that we are grounded through our Root Chakra in love. We do not learn that meditation, stillness, spaciousness, silence are the keys to life. No, we are taught that money, success, "busy-ness" (business), ego, material gains, superiour strength, athleticism are the keys to happiness. We throw away nature to build an empire never really learning that nature is the empire in which we seek, where we grow, where our Souls have chosen to meet once again. To thrive in this lifetime together.
Let us be still. Let us offer the three pills of health to ourselves. Let us offer this teaching instead.
The teaching I’m referring to: Stillness. Silence. Spaciousness
In the words of the honorable Bon teacher, Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche, “With the pain body or identity, we ‘take the white pill’ and turn toward stillness; with pain speech, we ‘take the red pill’ and turn toward silence; and with pain mind, we ‘take the blue pill’ and turn toward spaciousness. As we enter the experiences of stillness, silence, and spaciousness, our pain becomes the path to liberation. Each condition transforms into a path that leads to our final liberation: connection with the changeless essence.”
If we are in a rush and feel agitated, Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche advises that we embrace stillness and let the illusion of time wash over us.
When our ego begins speaking negatively to ourselves or others, he advises that we practice silence. If the urgency of life’s stresses, (busy-ness) are feeling too close or heavy, Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche asks that we give ourselves some mental and emotional space from these external or imagined stimuli. The idea behind these three practices is to stop the pattern of reactive behavior and truly acknowledge the pain that is causing it. The pain itself is considered an entry point for inner exploration.
Stillness. Silence. Spaciousness.
Let us all do some inner exploration today and every day. Let us heal ourselves and each other one single, deep, beautiful, loving, spacious breath at a time and when we are called, let us teach through our soul and leave our ego behind.
My heart aches but my Soul seeks your Soul and when we meet we shall say Namaste`.
"FIRST - I LOVE your blog - KATHY! COME ON - that's a great story!!! Saw the follow-up post too...so - Kathy's full of shit?! "
This quote is from an e-mail I received yesterday from my dear friend, Sam. I must point out that Sam is one of the very first people who noticed and encouraged me in my spiritual growth and development into this "sprouting Medium" I affectionately refer to myself as, so she is a believer as well as a thoughtful skeptic. So, when Sam asks if one of my guides (in this case, Kathy) is "full of shit" I must sit quietly and ponder.
When asked any question, the first thought is to answer quickly as to either defend, acknowledge or plain old answer. In this case, there is not a simple or quick answer. It requires deep thought. The type of deep thought that I am almost incapable of having. I like easy, I like quick and I really like to defend myself. Three qualities that do not bode well with my profession. I'm getting better. I have too...Spirit is depending on me to grow beyond my limitations into my soul.
So, here it goes...sit still, be peaceful, breathe, connect, raise up, listen.
I'm replaying the "story" of Kathy in my mind a bit while I ask quietly for insight. I also have no problem asking my guides if they are full of shit. Why not, I ask that of myself often. Actually, so do many of my family members.
"You are a psychic, healer, medium, intuitive coach?"
"You're full of shit."
Defense mode! Not going to bite my tongue on this one!
Luckily my guides don't defend themselves, rather they enlighten me as to who I really am. The deep down me that is emerging. They come through in so many ways with such love and compassion that I often mistake its message.
Messages can be messy.
Messages aren't meant to be definitive answers to definitive questions because our questions are always changing and never are they definitive. Answers are always meant to be evolving revelations. What makes sense today very rarely makes sense a year from now if we've chosen to live intentionally.
See, Spirit will guide us, just as a map will, but we have to drive the car. We have to have some sort of control in our thoughts, our desires, our ambitions, our life! We have to look at the map, notice the routes, check for road closings and then we look for the danger signs, the yellow lights, the stop sign, the rest stops.
You know that song, "Jesus take the wheel"?
It is NOT MEANT TO BE LITERAL!
We have to DRIVE THE CAR and see where that initial destination leads us and it is NEVER a direct route.
"Is Kathy full of shit?"
No, but my expectations were. I expected black and white, straight down the road advice and once again, I got a lesson on twists, turns, detours and pee breaks on the journey. Another reminder that the canvas is blank, but my palette is rich in color.
So many different creations yet to be created. So many roads to drive, so many paths to explore, so many freakin' pee breaks and detours, colors to blend and so much to learn, explore and yes, even fail at.
Why was I told to look at the Victorian Farmhouse? I mean, really that was my first "sign". It was an unbelievable value. Huge, renovated on the inside, close to town, large barn...great house, cheap price, absolutely irrelevant. The cost of maintenance was going to be astronomical. The roof alone would have sunk me. On the onset, it met many of my needs, and WOW, was it cheap, and that was the very first request I made to Spirit...show me a cheap home that meets my qualifications.
I loved the thought of not spending a ton of money on my next home. Let's face it, I am a self employed psychic medium, energy therapist, body worker, deep transformational coach as well as a slew of other unconventional titles. Not millionaire career choices here. I answered the call to serve before checking out the pay scale.
I in turn was reminded of a valuable lesson of which they are constantly belting me over the head with. Listen to my guides, but use discernment and my power of free will to make the right choice with the knowledge I have available to me at this moment. Do NOT use my guides as "written in stone", but rather, "explore this avenue."
"When your lead with ego, ego leads you astray." "Ego wants to keep you safe. Safe isn't an experience." "Experience life in its full messy glory."
"Yes, but I live in a material world..ask Madonna."
"You realize that our Madonna is different than your Madonna, agree."
I met Kathy and her foster kids while asking for a sign of safety from my guides. Specifically "Is this a safe neighborhood? I've been told I was most likely going to be killed on this street."
"My name is Jennifer." "Hi, I am Kathy." Yippee, I won't be murdered!!
That was surely a sign from my guide.
Absolutely, it was, but not specifically for the purchase of the house, but a definite reason why I was guided to look at the house in the first place.
My kids, Paige and Alex are adults now and I have been contemplating foster care for quite a while. Maybe foster care down the road will be an option and now, because of this guidance, I have a new friend named Kathy who I can discuss this option with. Even better, I have a new friend, a new understanding of my needs and a new level of discernment.
My questions were answered, but my questions evolved. No longer was I asking for a cheap home to look at. No longer was I asking for if I was safe. No longer was I asking if I should buy this home, but my questions did lead me to new discoveries. Spirit brought me to another level of experience. I am no longer looking for cheap, I am looking for "the best home for me and my family as well as a safe place to ensure my highest and greatest spiritual growth and evolution."
When we ask the question and really listen, take the steps and move forward, Spirit will bring us the people, circumstances and synchronizations into alignment with our higher self which brings us our higher good. "On earth as it is in Heaven." Our souls reside in Heaven. Our souls seek nourishment. Fertile, messy, thick, deep black rich soil, the kind of soil that stinks like shit. We grow our strongest when our soil is full of shit.
I thank you, Sam, for asking the question. The answer is "Yes."
Y"C'mon! You said Kathy! C'mon! " "Did you people forget what it is like down here?"
"At some point direct answers to direct questions would be nice!"
I had this day all planned out. Two clients scheduled for energy work, lunch, house inspection, celebration, call friends to tell them my good news, sleep.....with dreams of fabrics, colors, appliances, picnics....
What is it they say? If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans?
I've also heard that rain is happy tears from Heaven or that they are peeing in Heaven. Either way, something is happening and it seems to be at my expense.
"Damn it. You said Kathy!"
This was code for buy the house. We had a talk. I got an answer, I made a bid, the bid was accepted, the inspection went.... TERRIBLE.
Apparently there are still concrete shingles on houses built from the 1890's. They are also apparently covered with some slate, some tar, some fiberglass and some asphalt for good measure. There is also this little nuisance called chimney repointing. It is expensive. No worries, however because it won't be as expensive as the roof replacement. Also, there is asbestos, but no worries on that either, as long as you don't bother it, it won't bother you. That smell in the basement is most likely animals nesting in the boards between the porch and the ceiling of the chimney. They will leave when it is warmer. The Barn? We don't inspect that, but it does look "iffy." Have you ever heard of knob and tube? Well, it is known to cause fires and most insurances won't insure your house until it is removed, but luckily it isn't in all of the wiring. It shouldn't cost too much to replace........
"With a nice paint job, new roof, porch, wiring, chimney work, knob and tube fixed, asbestos wrapped this is going to be a beauty of a home."
Yeah. Great. Cool. Can't wait.
Now what? What was the sense of all of this guidance from my guides if the guidance I got was to stare over a cliff? Or worse, to buy a house that will surely push me over the cliff. Why would I be put in this position at all? Okay, I am going to go into my "WTF?!" rant at any moment. This is NOT what was supposed to happen. I heard you. You said Kathy. I met Kathy and her children. We were going to be friends. I listened. I followed you to this house. It was meant to be. Now what?
"You know we can offer guidance, but you have to also use your own judgement. There are always discoveries to be made when you engage in life. That which you believe is to be is not always so and what you are so sure of is usually not so solid. You are good to hear us, good to follow us because we do assist, but you live." "When you choose to live consciously so much is revealed, but only when ask not "why' rather "how" will you truly understand," You asked for safety. You asked for security. You wanted certainty. We remind you that in all of life you have safety, security and certainty when you choose discernment."
"How do I follow your guidance as well as my own intuition and still make the right choice? Can't you just say directly what I should do? Wouldn't it be easier all around?"
"Easy isn't an experience. Patience, love, kindness, understanding, anger, laughter, sadness, ecstasy, sorrow, wonderment, taste, smell, touch, those are experiences. Your anger brings you softness, your tears bring you joy and your laughter brings togetherness, warmth, joy. Those are experiences that easy doesn't offer."
"I don't want to buy this house." I am glad I went through all of this trouble because it has made me trust you as well as myself more. Our connection has grown, but I am not buying this house." "Could you give me a sign of approval?"
Yeah...that's what I expected. So much for dialogue.
A cup of tea, my blanket, my bed. pillow and ding, ding, ding. My phone ...face book... OH! Wonderful comments about my blog. Wow! Wiping away a few stray tears from the day I see an old high school friend posted about my latest blog. Chris really liked my blog and is looking forward to reading more! YAY!
"Thanks Chris! I really appreciate your comment. Means a lot to me".
"You are welcome, you little chatty Kathy you."
Huh? What? OMG! Chris!
I'm not buying the house. I'm going to keep looking and keep listening and wow! Chris, thank you. Thank you.
"We will use any tool available to love you. We have many ways. We especially enjoy using electronic devices and friends."
"Our code name will be Kathy".
That is the message I received when asking my guides for advice on whether or not to purchase an 1890 Victorian Farmhouse with a 3 story barn on a 1/4 acre of land in a not so perfect neighborhood in an urban area of a somewhat dying city. Yes, a farmhouse with a barn on only a 1/4 of an acre of land in a very diverse neighborhood in the center of a downtrodden city and the code word is Kathy. Yeah, that'll work. Thanks for the help. I'll go look at this other house that is way more suited for me with cute porches, a nice yard, away from the city, in my price range and doesn't have a ginormeous barn in its back yard.
One word text from my son to my husband after looking at the "perfect" out of town house of my choosing. DUMP. Nothing more needed to be said on the drive back to my higher end suburban house in the upper crust of the Berkshires. My son, not feeling well on this day, reclined back in the front see taking a bit of a shut eye moment while I once again ask my guides what to do.
"Did I make the right decision to walk away from this house?" "Why won't you answer me?"
My annoyance growing more and more pronounced as I contemplate my dilemma with my sons constant dinging on his phone from the billion texts coming in.
"Our code name will be Kathy."
"Yeah, I heard you the last time." "I'll hold my breath on that one."
"Alex, my word, what the heck are all these messages about?!"
"Yeah, I know mom, they are certainly a bunch of chatty Kathy's today."
What? Did he just say "chatty Kathy's?" Yup.
"Our code name is Kathy." "Go look at the farmhouse."
So yeah, the interior is gorgeous! Totally renovated, wood floors, 2 baths, great kitchen, built ins, sun porches, hidden staircases, butlers kitchen from the 1800's, charm galore and a huge barn. No land, old roof, needs a paint job and did I say, no land and somewhat shaky neighborhood, 127 year old house. No closets. Le'ts put in a offer. Offer accepted. SHIT.
"You will get killed in that neighborhood."
"You do know how much can go wrong with an old house."
"There is NO land. YOU need land."
"Are you f'n kidding me??!!"
"Feng Shui says you can't live on a ledge. It is on a ledge."
"You won't be supported." "Feng Shui is Form before Formula." Huh???
Helpful friends.... Panic attack.....wrong decision....stupid move....going to die....drive by every free moment and look at all that is going to cause my demise...
"The code word is Kathy."
"Shut up, Can you not see I'm in crisis mode?"
Time to drive thru the neighborhood for the quadrillionth time, kick myself for all that is going to happen and worry about all that could be wrong with the house all without waiting for the inspection on Tuesday. Park in front of the house that I might be shot in while noticing the non existent yard that will not support me, watch the roof that may or may not be leaking and focus on the paint that is chipping on the huge front porch that I won't be able to enjoy for whatever reason I scare myself into believing. Code name is Kathy my ass.
Now here I sit, in front of the house, watching people come and go, cars drive by and a lovely woman walking 5 little kids. I've seen her before on my first one thousand trips by. Doesn't she know that this is a rough neighborhood and she and her kids are without land, poor feng shuied and will most likely be robbed and murdered? Better go talk to her.
"Oh! You are buying that house? You are SO LUCKY! It has such a great barn, more land than my house around the corner, such a beautiful porch, great sunsets from behind that barn, neighborhood is so diverse and rich with culture. We love it here. We came to raise these beautiful foster children. It is a great place to live. The houses are starting to come back and with more and more people coming into these houses, slowly but surely it is becoming a wonderful young neighborhood of families and the downtown is really shining. I am so excited to hear you are moving in!"
"Thanks, you have really eased my worries. I was quite concerned. Our inspection is on Tuesday, so we won't know for sure if there is anything of structural concern, but at least I feel safe. Thank you so much. My name is Jennifer."
"Hi Jennifer, my name is Kathy and I am sure it will all work out and even if it doesn't, you wont' know until the inspection, so for now, just be excited for the new beginnings you are making!"
"Our code name is Kathy."
I was super lucky today to have had the morning off from my usually ridiculously busy Wednesday "service day". I call my work days "service days" because, quite frankly, I am in service to others on these days. As soon as I accepted my calling as a Metaphysical and Holistic Practitioner, I realized that my days of "service" would be many and I needed to really take this role seriously and learn to set boundaries, hours, days, email times, phone times and deal with whatever "times" came up in this new career I was dropped into. Overall, it's been a manageable challenge. I have "service days" and my days. Not so tough. Definitely not as tough as the living the gender I chose to incarnate this time around. Being a woman. is a continual challenge of manageability. We manage our personal lives, our love lives, our family lives, our work lives, our kids schedules, our husband's schedule, our parents (if elderly) schedules, our parents questions (married yet? kids yet? job yet?). Sometimes we manage our bosses' schedules, our PTO schedule, our grocery lists, our meal plannings and that is to name a few... On top of this we manage our monthly schedule! Yes, we do that too! All the while we try to manage time for our selves. Our inner selves, our vulnerable selves, our quiet selves, our messy selves, our noisy selves, our pensive selves, our angry selves, sad selves and our happy selves
We manage a lot!
So on this International day of Women, I propose we women manage this too;
Let's manage to love each other in our full naked vulnerability. Let's come together as women in all of our glorious high vibration being and let's communicate with one another with unfiltered honesty and really listen with unfiltered ears. Let's assist one another without fear of competition, dance with each other's songs, sing with each others words, laugh with our full being, love with our full soul, cry with our walls crumbled down, yell with the force of our volcanic emotions and understand each other with our divine femininity. Let us not judge one another. Let us not hate one another. Let us not ignore one other and most importantly, let us not fear one another. We can manage that.
I had the oddest dream last night. I somehow found myself being chased by a man who I think I know/knew, who had the ability to turn into a monster, (I know...different kind of monster), while I had the ability to shape shift into a child or my adult self. This man was chasing me until I shape shifted into a child again where I hid among a large group of homeless children. While I was hidden, he was stalking. He knew I was there, but couldn't find me as a child. Somehow he was able to fish me out and I ran while becoming an adult again. He caught me and I woke up.
Hate those dreams.
Fast forward 2 hours later, there I sit in the living room of my mentor/teacher/friend, Lainey, going into deep transformational meditation during my coaching lesson. I find myself enjoying a peaceful moment, time to breathe and feel...really feel peace. I see a feather fall towards and a paper that says "Sacred Contract" appears below the feather. It is signed by the feather with my name. I then turn to see a golden field surround me. It reminds me of long golden wheat miles and miles long, but it is gold energy. Miles away I see a large door. I'm in no hurry to open the door, as I am enjoying my field. I find myself closer and closer to the door, yet in no hurry to open it or go through it in anyway. I notice my mentor, Lainey a few hundred feet away from me in the field. We wave and go back to enjoying the gold surrounding us. Moments later, heads of people pop up everywhere and overpower my field, turning it murky and muddy. Dark. Oily. I rise away from my field and go through the red doors where I am surrounded by smoke. Brown/black smoke where I don't really know where I am or what I am doing. Not frightened, but very smokey. I wait while I see what is next. A few moments later many bright white light figures come out to place their hands on me. Downloading me, I assume. I tell them that I need to get back to my life. I have bills to pay. They laugh at me and tell me it is under control. Rest. Allow. Be.
As I come out of the meditative state, Lainey assures me that it's just perfect. I've left behind one sacred contract in my life, moseyed on through the fields of transformation into the shadow of darkness only to find the light. All after being chased into adulthood by a scary monster.
All in a days work....
Embrace the messiness of your dreams and love the messiness of your days! I'll keep you posted on what is transforming in my messy life.
It is a very beautiful early March Saturday. The sun is radiant, the wind is roaring and it is an unseasonably friged 6 degrees here in Western Massachusetts. The sort of day where heavy blankets and wood fire heat come in pretty darned handy. That and a GREAT book. Today I have chosen to utilize my blanket, my fire and embrace my total unwillingness to be a "brave Yankee" and park my butt on the couch with a great book. Today's (most likely the entire weekend) read is "The Truth of All That is." by Amelia Bert.
Amelia Bert is a communicator, in communication, with Angels. She wasn't born with this particular gift, but in recognizing her desire to communicate with her "higher self" she crafted a mental communication with Angels. As she states in her preface, she "was not born with the gift of mental communication; I crafted it, and so can you; we are all special in this way." YES!
I was fortunate to have been born with "the gift" but unfortunately, it took a few (a lot) of swift and very painful tumbles (falls) to not only claim these gifts, but to accept them and open up to others about them and ultimately utilize them in which ever way Spirit directs me on any given day. I LOVE that Amelia had courage enough to craft what I didn't have the courage for far to long to accept. She is a rock star in my eyes.
During her meditations she asked "Who are you?" and the response in true Angel form responded;
"We are the energy that flows through you and for you. We are the alignment of your desires; we are the answer to your inquiry. You asked us here and we responded. You are leading the way and we follow. We understand your journey and we help you achieve it. We are your guidance."
So here I sit, on this ridiculously cold March Saturday, reading the words that Angels want me to read.
"The time you read this book, it is not coincidence. You have been brought into this moment by your Spiritual Team that stays in the Divine and guides you every step along the way. This is the time to let go of old beliefs. Embrace the wholeness of what you are."
I hope this message finds you. If it does, it is your time to read this with me. It is our time to bring change, offer support, be love, add light, embrace life, walk in peace and jump in joy.
Let's begin this journey together in the unity of light, love and truth. Below is a link for the book if you are interested in purchasing from Amazon. Leave me comments, start a discussion, ask questions. Connect! This is a nurturing page for sprouting seeds! Let's Sprout!
Sending love, light and a bit of messiness your way.
M-W-F: 8am - 6 pm
Tue - Thur 8am-2pm
email@example.com copyright 2017 3 charms energy touch intuition