This past year.
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.
At My Age
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.
Always a Butterfly Emerges
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`.
The Messiness in the Message
"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."