This Time I Said, "I Love You"

So many people live days, weeks, months  or even years angry at someone, losing the precious time that could be spent creating joyous, loving memories. We misunderstand or ignore premonitions or gut feelings and when it is too late, we struggle to forgive ourselves. Sometimes, we learn from those painful lessons and we do it right the next time. The next time has arrived.

While in college, Dad and I created a special time for us before going to work and school.  Each morning, Dad would get up at 4 A.M. and begin the percolator and then sat at the end of the table in his Captains chair, lunch packed, and a cigarette in his fingers. His arms would be crossed across his chest, legs outstretched and his ankles would be crossed. On the mornings I had to open the store before classes, I would come out of the darkness into the kitchen and Dad would sit up, smiling and face me at the table, and  ask me about my life. Instead of giving advice, Dad had just the right way of asking questions and Immediately I would find the answers I didn't know that I needed before I sat down.
One morning, I woke up unusually exhausted. For some reason I had been sleeping on the sofa for the last few nights.  I pushed myself off the sofa and slowly walked into the warm kitchen and slid into my seat and slouched back. Dad asked me what was wrong. I answered with confusion and honesty, "Nothing."

"You can tell me anything. I am concerned about you. Why don't you trust me?" he pleaded. His voice shook as he tried to hold back emotion.

I was dazed and confused and asked him why he asked. Dad had heard me crying in my sleep over the past few nights. He was lost for explanations.  Again, I could not remember the dreams and I certainly did had no idea as to why I would be crying. I promised that indeed  if I had a problem I would come to him immediately.

Not long after these foggy mornings, I found myself changing my routine and arrived home for school much earlier. It was an unusual day and as I stepped over the threshold  I noticed a sink full of dishes and the trail of chaos leading from the kitchen to the living room. Dad had never allowed the dishes to sit in the sink. He had four dishwashers and one of them was going to work if any of the other three were not home or busy. My morning felt emotionally heavy. I had snapped at Dad the night before and I didn't know why. I was not angry with him and had never been angry at Dad. I dug in and began with washing. Lost in the absence of thought, a place of no where, I was returned by a knocking at the kitchen door. Startled, I turned to peek through the yellow curtains. We lived so far off the path, no one ever came over unannounced, especially when my parents were not home.  My stomach sank and a darkness loomed as I opened the door to two men I recognized as friends of my father.

The two friends also worked with Dad. In my mind I insisted they were here for a good cause. Slowly and with their heads slightly bowed, one of the men  asked when my mom would be home. I wasn't sure, but she usually arrived before noon; the men replied it was okay, they would wait for her. I offered them a seat and something to drink and I continued my tasks at a much faster rate. I had to keep my mind and hands busy. Mom sauntered in and the men rose to meet her. All I can remember at that moment is the screaming.and watching her fall to her knees and the men trying to catch her.

There are no other memories until the  viewings and funeral. During the viewings I realized that I had lived the scenes of this surreal experience before. The tears and cries that my father had asked about were the dreams that I could not remember, but now could while standing in the funeral home. I cannot remember anything else of the days following the accident that killed Dad.  The only memories I carry are ofof the night before. I wished that I would have said, "I love you" to Dad instead of snap at him.
It was  on a Wednesday morning, I awoke up and couldn't see. A film  covered my eyes and my eye lashes were stuck closed with the goo. It reminded me of a young baby with a cold. I didn't remember crying in my sleep. I had dreams that I remembered toward morning, but none of them were sad. But, I had cried. I ignored my instincts and curiosity, I did not want to go there. I did not want to remember the nights before Dad was killed.I did not want to remember this was a premonition.

Thursday night I had a vivid dream that was first person, fantasy and yet, real. I opened our back door and o nto the grass to find a large turtle lying on her back. I gingerly picked her up and placed her in the wood. I returned to the steps to find the turtle lying there, again, on her back. I held the edges of her shell and returned her carefully to the edge of the wood and spoke to her and once again, I returned to the steps to find here there on her back.  My mind's eye was now standing behind the room full of the guests inside  who were all dressed in white. I could read their minds, they all could see me and they thought my hands were empty and that I had lost it.They saw me as if I were talking to an empty space between my hands. Immediately, I was behind the the men in the security office watching the surveillance video. The video picked up the turtle on the tape leaving me to wonder about alchemy and magic.

Immediately, my eyes flashed open and I felt  wide awake. I recorded the dream in my journal and slipped downstairs to meditate. I could not clear my heart or my mind. Thinking that I would come back later and try again, I dressed for the day. In my closet, I was pulled to a white tunic that I wear for sacred ceremonies and a wooden necklace with a salamander on the disc; a high school graduation gift that I had never worn. I was not concerned why I felt that I needed to dress in such a way. It felt right. I honored the guides and gently pulled the tunic over my head. I felt a need to gently adjust the necklace over the tunic as if performing a ritual.

It was urgent to use my time wisely and decided to work on one of my continuing education classes when the telephone rang. There were no men at my door and my mother was not here, but the message would be the same  I did not scream nor fall to the floor. I cried bittersweet tears of joy and sorrow. I rejoiced that my sister who in truth was more of a mother to me journeyed Home. The tears of sorrow were for the living.

Now, as I prepare for the funeral, I will prepare to see what I cannot remember of my tearful sleep. It will be easier this time. This time, I had said," I love you."

My Father's Grace; The Key to Sanctity in Divorce

     I have been reflecting on how my actions created my life. Nothing ever happens to us without some sort of choice on our part Poor judgment, not speaking up, ignoring our gut. Sometimes our actions have lasting consequences and in this case, it surely has.  I have three grown children and I do not hear from the oldest two, and there are times when the youngest one is influenced enough not to communicate.  The Orders Concerning Custody were illegally removed from the Court file which in essence, eliminated my Joint Custody. I can tell you the day and whom, but I cannot prove it. I know that two men and a woman who never take off work, and I mean NEVER were all in Cripple Creek on a work day. Later that day, I brought the younger two children home and when they asked their Grandpa why he was at our home and would he stay, the man and his wife would only say they had been to Cripple Creek and bolted out the door.  The children's father changed the subject. There are two things in Cripple Creek, gambling and a Court House. No stores to speak, nothing.  My first mistake, I ignored the nagging feeling of distrust. I should have thought it through and listened to my intuition as to how to proceed.
 
   Anyone who has been through a divorce less than an amicable one knows that during the process you live in a glass house  You live in a fish bowl. You most probably have been followed by a PI. In my case even his friends would come to my home looking for clues. One man asked to use my personal bathroom as opposed to the immaculate guest bath off the living room. If I drank a drink once a year, it was a lot. I was  not the one having affairs or sleeping with high school students. His first known sex was with Nita three months after we were married while my mother and I waited eight hours at his father's house for him to pick up his stereo from Nita's house twenty minutes away. A colleague I taught with at Luray Elementary came to me when she saw him leave a motel with a high school student at lunch and told me. She was so angry with me when my brain could not accept it. She deservedly stomped off. After our divorce, a high school student approached me in a Denny's in Mount Jackson, confiding in me that he had slept with her friends in high school. It isn't enough that I was responsible for health care, daycare, homework, and extra-curricular activities. In this fishbowl, any reaction to his actions in court was translated to my children as, "Look what your mother is doing to me."  In most courts, one must prove the other is guilty of the alleged crimes. In Teller County, the father's word was enough.  Much worse, when I had found the courage to press charges, the DA dropped the charges without communicating with me which was against the law in that State.

    A pattern began to evolve and I failed to see it.  For every step my attorney made to defend a motion or an accusation, there would be a retaliatory move. Each time that my children prepared to board a plane to see me, they always arrived at the airport with less than 30 minutes to board and then the children were told that I had purchased stand-by tickets. Upon their return, they would be screamed at for as long as six hours. My daughter and son would cry until they vomited. The verbal abuse would continue until the children went to bed. The descriptions of me left my children with visions that painted my Glass House with photographs of a drunk mom, a mother who did not want them and a hateful woman who left them. My youngest was eight years old when he came to me crying, asking why I did not want him. I told him several times over the following years that I was not ready for a child, but I always wanted him. I never told him that he was a product of intimate abuse.  As time went on the accusations would become more grandiose.

   Despite the increase in parental alienation, I refused to tell the children the truth about their father. How many women had he slept with during our marriage? No one, including their father would know that I knew who and when. I didn't like him to smoke pot, even more, I did not want it in the house with our children.  Yet, it happened. No big deal, except the man was a teacher and football coach. Over the years of our marriage, his mother would ask me if he was abusing me behind closed doors in the way his father and grandfather  had done with her and Grandma. Her stories were excruciating to hear;  the details too close to home and too awful to acknowledge. Looking back, I have come to realize that all of the private father-son talks in the barn could only be the indoctrination of the Holley School of Husbandry. ------Yes, I worry about my sons.

    The first lesson at the hands of the McCurdy Methodist school teacher was that I would never humiliate him again. Our first child was nine months old. We were sitting in a pew at church when I was humiliated and embarrassed by my husband. Despite the heavy snow outside,I left the church and walked home with my baby. When the teacher arrived home, I was told I would never humiliate him again, thrown on the bed and raped. I never trusted him again. Never.  For good reason, this would not be the last time.

      There were several rapes at the end of our marriage. I wore street clothes to bed and slept on the edge. Our sons were both close by in the bedroom next to ours in this small home. If I had yelled and fought back, I feared that the sound of the terror would be traumatic, even worse, what if they had they run into our room and witnessed this act of atrocity?  I could not go through with charges against him at that time. It was not to protect the teacher/football coach. I could only be concerned with the embarrassment, pain and hell that our oldest son would endure as a freshman and sophomore in high school. What would that mean for him?

   I often think of my father and wondered where he got  his wisdom from? My mother kicked my father out when I was six years old. After trying to win her back, he literally walked away. No effort to have joint custody. No effort to save us from her. No efforts to defend himself from her blasphemous accusations. No comments about her. Ever. Dad never knew why he would not fight for us, but he apologized. In some innate, indescribable way, we understood. How he could live each day and be happy without his children in his life would impress upon me the Grace that he had.

    After  my former husband told me to get the "F*^K  out of his house, I made every effort to be the Grace that I witnessed in Dad. I would not speak ill of the man. I would not use my children as pawns.  Divorced, I continued to try to make it work as parental partnership. I would come over every day after I finished teaching and do the things moms do after school.  Drive them to practice, have friends over, do homework and make dinner. I always left minutes before he arrived home which was difficult as it did not leave me time to spend with  my son who was in high school.  I cleaned his carpets, ironed his laundry and made every effort to remain amicable. Months later I  moved back in for the sake of my children. I thought I had learned Grace from my Dad and was successfully taking it a step further.  I discovered that my former husband was still in another relationship. but it wasn't until after his mother admonished me for moving back in. Her painful words were that I deserved this hell since I agreed for her son to continue having his affair w hen we reunited. It was all my fault. This was the last straw and I moved out.

     I remained stubbornly stoic and did not disclose any of my pain or the details with the children. I did not tell them of the threatening letters I received from their grandfather and his wife, or of the promises that I would lose them and everything I owned should I divorce their father. I did not tell them of the many nights after they slept their father found me in a motel that I was trying to hide in or my apartment thirty minutes away in Colorado Springs. I did not tell them that I still could not fight the intimate abuse. An effect I believe now is from Gas-lighting.

    Looking back, I remained mum. I would not be my mother and say bad things about their father as she did about mine. Even if they were true. I refused to play a game where our children would be pawns. I did not want revenge. I did not hate him. I did not condone his actions, but I did not hate him. In fact, I always forgave him. I believed at the time that if altruism was powerful. My mind could not see that this teacher, the football coach who would often say to me that he could be mayor, or say that people loved him was indeed a narcissist. I served as the President of a local chapter of the Virginia Education Association and he relished the idea that we were a powerful couple. I could not accept that these were psychopathic tendencies.

     I continued my quest to "save" my children. The younger two children would call me crying. On one occasion, the eight year old was home alone. It was eleven at night and his father and  his girlfriend had gone to the bar. The second grader did not know where his father could be reached and he was frightened. Once, the child called me from the inside a friends closet crying about what he had witnessed between this girlfriend who was married to a dentist and his father. I was on the phone when the children's dinner plates were thrown across the room by this woman. She went on a rampage andthis grown man who was the father retreated to the young boy's room, yelling at my son to help hold the door shut. In these moments I became distraught. I could not help. I called Social Services. They did absolutely nothing which didn't surprise the Victim's Advocates office. It was common knowledge Bill Schmidt never helped the abused woman or her children. I called the court appointed guardian ad litem, but I didn't know she was friends with the children's father and his girlfriend who was a counselor at the same high school in Woodland Park. The GAL's husband, Mr. Fulks was on the staff at the high school as well. I did not know that my calls to her in her in hopes of helping my children would bring on more hell and punishment for telling me. It was Peggy Fulks, the GAL who shared confidential information that I shared with her concerning charges that were not yet public with the perpetrator.

   I could not see that my fight would be the most painful thing that would ever happen to my three children. I could not know that with each effort to renew a relationship with one of the children, a new story would be created about me.  It used to hurt that my children never asked me if any of it was true. In all fairness, we didn't ask our dad until we were in college or adults. Now they are all adults they don't even tell me what terrible sins I allegedly doing now say anything about question it.  Can they not remember the real me, the mom they have personally experienced?  It can be incredibly painful. I work on understanding and remembering what is was to live with my mother. For in that alone, I can remain in a place of unconditional forgiveness and love.

   The man is my mother. I loved her. I forgave her, always. I walked away from her, too, and in that one act of power, I could find strength to stand above it all and see my part in it. I can also acknowledge that perhaps I should have done exactly what my father had so many years ago.

     My father's wisdom escaped me when I needed it most. I see the patterns of my mother in my former husband.  In my determination to protect my babies, I failed to see that with each attempted intervention, harm would be inflicted.  My silence continues fifteen years later- until this blog which they will not read.  I continue to wait for my children's return. I wait for them to remember who I really am. Though the oldest is thirty-one years old, he too, still does not see --as my twin still could not see--his title and role as Pawn. As long as his father owes me the equity and child support as ordered by the court, he and his siblings will continue to be used and all I can do is choose to sit in Grace as my father had done and wait.

Bear With Me- Behind the Eyes

    Last night I had the most unusual dream- not that all of my dreams are not unusual, this one was completely off the grid.  Having family and friends both in a dream is refreshingly new, but the conflict in the dream story was that bears all over the country were attacking humans. The bears were not provoked nor hungry, they were acting more like serial killers. In my mind's dream I understood that this was an issue of mass consciousness.

    As the bear approached everyone ran into the house and locked the doors. The bear proved to have the mental and physical ability to open doors and everyone ran out into the garage and was trying to drive away. Under normal circumstances I most probably would have my heart up into my throat, but this time I kept trying to get everyone to stop panicking and "believe" with calm and loving hearts.

    Of course, I was considered off my rocker and the pandemonium continued. As everyone in the car shared the horror stories they had heard about the bear attacks across the nation,  an ancestral soul appeared and asked me to remember "The Way".  His presence was real and he was strong. My "Shaman" reminded me to BE-come "Grandfather".  In my present life I refer to Bear Totem as Grandfather in step with traditional meaning.  In this, one aligns with the energy of an animal or being by shapeshifting into that particular animal, creature, insect or being.

    The carload of people in the garage began to scream and freak out as the bear started to rip on the door handle. I realized I was now standing outside of the station wagon. My body had the incredible sensation of change and movement; I was transforming into Grandfather, standing tall on my hind legs, my front paws up in the air with a commanding grunt emanating from my open mouth. My intention as Grandfather was to send respect to the upset bear and to pull him from his reverie.
He turned to me and as mass consciousness dictates, I learned from this private and invisible form of communication of the pain of the Bear.

   Seeing from the behind the eyes of another is powerful and enlightening. It does not excuse the behavior nor does it bring the  guest behind the eyes into the same pattern of current behavior and thought.  Seeing from behind the eyes of another brings one the ability to see the situation from the same paradigm, therefore, allowing the seer to address the problem with clarity and focus. Immediately the bear hung his head and sat low to the ground.  Without a sound or movement, Grandfather commanded the bear to raise his head. Forgiveness was offered and Grandfather offered his services to the Bear. In that moment all Bear understood and I realized that they would be heard and heal.

   My Ancestor offered, "You offer this journey of standing behind the eyes of another. It is not meant only for those who ask for it. You use it yourself to give benefit of the doubt and to see your part in a situation. This must be applied to all Life. This must be shared and used to understand and help the animal, the planet and the child; it should most decidedly used to understand the weak, the criminal. For in understanding that pain and anger, one can send love to him and forgive. One will not be condoning the person, but one will be in a place of Knowing. Judgment does not exist in a place of Knowing, in a place of Love."

   My mind made the several connections in several situations at once. It amazed me to see a glimpse of the unlimited ability of the Higher Mind.  I realized that by living this lesson in a shamanic way that I was being reminded that we are all of the same consciousness and that we are indeed hurting the animal kingdom, we are tainting it with hate, anger and greed. If I can feel these feelings from others as I drive down the corridor, I am sure that the Kingdom of Nature can feel it much more powerfully than I.

   In your moments of explosion, anger or sadness, consider if this is yours or not. Perhaps in a small way you are open to these emotions and just being susceptible to them makes you open to exert the anger or pain of another.

   Again, the Shaman reminded me of the need to turn in. In times of strife and pain, one must turn in to Self and Love. In times of understanding behind the eyes of another one must turn in to Self and Love before and after this journey.  Self and Love - it is who we Are.

Manifesting Your Miracles

     Magazine articles, movies and stories of miracles seem to dominate the season each Christmas. We read of miracles in the Bible and we think of these awing events as something that happens in Biblical times or only to others.This stories gives up hope and brings us joy. What makes a miracle happen and what does love have to do with it? (HaHa, Tina Turner, you are singing in my head.)  Do prayers help and how do we pray?  There are no rules to praying and there is not a limit to what is available to you. Some prayers work out the way we want them to and other times, they work out the way we need them to.  

    To make a prayer more powerful, it is believed that the prayer should be said, it should be vocal. Perhaps the question in my mind is if the prayer is written is it as powerful as vocal? Voice gives it vibration and creation and life is vibration. We are vibration. I cannot help but think of how dancing makes me feel. The more I sing and dance, the more alive I feel. Vibration is jumped started with every extreme emotion. After crying I feel cleared and more alive.



     Scientists have found that when the number of people praying number at least the square root of one percent of the population that is being prayed for, the praying can move mountains. On the day of 9/11,  the measurements done on the earth painted a remarkably different picture than any other day. The world was praying and the energies being measured showed this peace and the crime rate all over the well fell to almost non-existent. Mass prayer is phenomenal.  What if the prayer was written and many people read it, would it be just as powerful as the prayers said by several people at one time?

   

      Another dimension to the effectiveness of prayer is to pray from the heart. It is understood by many that you can manifest your desires by thought as discussed in the book, "The Secret", which is powerful, but logic and reason male and male is duality. In duality, if your joy from your answered prayer is 70%, then you can expect an opposite of 70% which can come in the form of grief, sadness, frustration or anger.  Praying from the heart is female. Female or the feminine creates. Creating from the heart is in Unity, but not in duality. Therefore, your answered prayers are pure joy.

     Staying mindful and focused on our thoughts in each and every moment is difficult at first. You see I wrote, "at first".  Like all of our abilities and thinking skills, we need to practice the skill.  No doubt it will be even more frustrating for anyone who sits in front of a television for hours. Television is broadcast in a manner that only requires focus for two to three minutes at a time. Even worse for our children, television shows are written in the speaking vocabulary of second graders and most newspapers are written on the  fifth grade level. We are programmed in our media to be receptors, not thinkers or creators. To be mindful will require that we use our own minds and be aware and present always. It is not hard, just different.  Being mindful is a form of prayer to me. Thoughts create, the Universe responds to our thoughts. Therefore, to me, each thought is a mini-prayer beginning creation of joy in my life .I should write that this is my experience.

    What if I wrote my fantasy and it was read by all of you? Would your mind and heart manifest it into reality?  The part of me that loves science is challenged to experiment. Or maybe it is a part of me that knows this is true and wants validation and an energy boost. It doesn't matter which it is, what matters is manifesting a miracle out of love and intention. What do you get out of it besides the intrinsic reward and joy of giving?  The validation and confidence of creating your own miracles. .

     My thoughts are prayer this morning were immediate and full of fantasy, so to speak. It is healthy and powerful to fantasize about the love and joy and the  world you want to live in and have. So, I fantasize and see in my mind's eye, our children remembering the unconditional love we have always had for them. They look at pictures and realize that my husband and I were always the photographer, the one behind the lens and therefore not in the photographs of those precious moments.  The dream continues that they begin to remember us taking them to church and nurturing their spiritual life, taking the names of children off Christmas trees to provide gifts for and they remember the hours I sat alone at their recitals, concerts, games and tournaments. There were school birthday parties for their classes and slumber parties. Homework without tears and driving back around the block to give money to the homeless.  The realization that hearsay doesn't jive with the Truth as they have experienced it will be felt throughout their entire beings. True Peace overcomes them and a strength forgotten surfaces. Without thought or need to understand, without communicating with each other, all of the children pack their bags in their respective homes and make their way to our door knowing that our love is here, unconditional and waiting for them just as God waits for us to return Home.

    They all descend upon the house on Christmas with an exuberant hugs and kisses and tears of joy. Holiday lights seem brighter and more vibrant, the home warmer and full of life. There is nothing to be said, nothing to be heard. Love is an energy that is felt and lived. Love dis-spells all myths, fear, and confusion. There is nothing to forgive.

    Laughter rings out late into the night. Time does not exist and the time lost is now erased. I steal away from the festivities and slip into my sacred space. I fall to my knees in front of my altar. Silent tears of gratitude and joy run down my cheeks. I say a prayer of thanks for you and the miracle you have created.

     Miracles are not just for holidays and Biblical times. They are not for others, they are for all of us including and especially you.  The more miracles are noticed, the more they occur. You havie read this and maybe for a moment or two, you felt love and compassion in your heart; in  this you have created a miracle in my life. I cannot find words that express my gratitude for you and to you, but Thank you.
 

Miracles and Messages Don't Just Happen to Others

Fear is a powerful emotion. Give us anything unknown and our mind runs away with it. Tell us there is something appearing on an MRI or an x-ray and our mind runs so fast that we have planned our funeral and gone through a full blown-out depression before more tests are scheduled. More often than not, we have allowed this fear of robbing us of precious moments of our lives in celebration.
    I asked a couple if I could give them a Wholeness Blessing. With this blessing, Archangel Michael moves through the hands of the person attuned to the vibrations and ArachangeL Michael moves through the hands like a energy circuit, healing the person receiving this Blessing - Mind, Body, Soul and Spirit. The husband and  his wife looked at each other with great fear and then looked down at their feet. Neither spoke nor answered.  This surprised me as this couple regularly attends a local church which is where I met them and it is the first and only refusal or fear that I have experienced in offering the Wholeness Blessing.
    What would invoke this extreme discomfort? Is it that they believe that Archangel Michael existed in Biblical history but not now?  Are Angels only for Jesus and his disciples and his mother, Mary? Are we not just a deserving and worthy? Did they see me as crazy or a religious fanatic?
     Did Jesus, Buddha. Elohim and others experience this same rejection and ridicule when they shared the Love of their God with others? How difficult it must have been to share with others that miracles are meant for them, too.
     Christian or not, it is safe to say that most of us know the story of Mary, the Mother of Jesus. Mary's faith was so deep and unfaltering that she was chosen for the Immaculate Conception. What we fail to see is that when the Angel came to her, she did not worry that she was crazy or what others would think of her. She believed with her Be-ing. She KNEW that the message was real. The Angel was real. Today, you will find magazines filled with stories of miracles at Christmas time. There are hundreds of authors who write of Angels, God (by any name), miracles, Guides and Illuminated Beings of Light. Since these authors sell their books, we can assume that people believe in Angels, God and Guides. But, experience shows that most people reading these books and attending their public engagements believe that these people are chosen. Communication and guidance is for others and not for them. They long for miracles and messages from Angels and loved ones that have passed, yet they do not believe that they are worthy or capable themselves.
    Miracles happen to each of us everyday. The problem is that we do not notice them or we may not acknowledge them for what they are. In truth, the more we notice miracles, the more they happen. The more we live in gratitude, the more we have to be grateful for.
     We believe that we have Guardian Angels, but we do not remember to believe in this angel when times are dark. We pray with words, but do we pray with our Hearts? Do we believe our words, our prayers or do we same them because they are a ritual, a rite? Many of us say we are worthy, but yet we don't believe that we are worthy enough to hear from God. Worthy is absolute, Either you are or you are not.

                                                                   Bulletin: YOU ARE WORTHY!

     Close your eyes and allow yourself to feel your heart and your inner body. Notice how you feel when you allow yourself to feel worthy and loved. This feels awesome because it is true. Your soul loves the truth. Hold on to it. Hold on to your truth and seek the miracles in each moment. They are meant for you.

My Umbilical Cord

    Have you ever met someone and felt that you have known them? Or perhaps you had a relationship and for some unknown reason it ended, but the two of you still feel linked together despite the break by some invisible umbilical cord? Do you have long distance friendships that maintain a strong, loving bond and a comfortable aura despite the miles and time between visits?

   We do connect on the Energic Level with those in our lives. If you are a woman and carried a child, your child was in your energy and continued to be in your energy as you nursed and cared for him or her in the beginning years. This can be seen when observing infants and toddlers as they quickly cling to their mothers in the presence of strangers. This bond between mother and child is real and it, too, is a bond on the Energic Level. Making love to and with the most wonderful person in the world takes the lovers beyond the physical level as they share their energies melding them into one. The two become One.They are united. They are united in energy. Love is energy. They are united in love.

    In our personal relationships it does not matter what happens, one loves  unconditionally. One makes the effort to understand what happened, what moved them to behave a certain way or to do something or to say something. Mistakes and misunderstandings are overlooked because the love is unconditional. Each person forgives. Most probably, no one keeps score. Those who accept others without judgment love unconditionally. 

   There are many people we cross paths with and we choose not to befriend them. It may be they wear different clothes or we assume that we have nothing in common. Perhaps, you feel uncomfortable around them--sometimes in this case we are really picking up that this person is uncomfortable around us. For whatever reason that we continue to exclude others from our inner circle, it all comes down judgment and assumptions. It also boils down to the exchange of energy between you.  What if everyone could see people as God sees them? Not as Peggy, Joe or Mary in a body of skin and hair and maybe Gothic clothes, but as Peggy, Joe or Mary in a spirit. Who we are is magnificent and wondrous. We are not our personalities and our egos, but indeed we are Souls and we are Spirit.

    I am not suggesting that you do not maintain your boundaries or make discernment's, I am proposing that you consider a much larger picture of life. In 100 billion galaxies with 100 billion stars in each, is there more to us than just skin and egos? I believe that there is far more to each of us and our Universe, and every single person is perfect. Looking beyond our skin and our egos each one of us is absolutely perfect. What does this have to do with energy?

    We are perfect because we of of God/Divine/Creator/Buddha.....any name of any deity that you wish to use. A rose is a rose no matter what language you use to name it. In the moment that you believe that you are perfect and not just made and separate from your Creator is the moment you begin to awaken. You love your child because you Know your child. You love your lover because you know your lover. You feel that bond with the stranger you meet and feel like you have known each other a long time because you have. Beyond your conscious mind, you know this person. Your connection on the Energic Level through your energy body is very real. Each of us is of the same energy and particles that make up the Universe. We are energy. We are love. We are inter-connected. This is something so wondrous and awesome that at first one is overwhelmed and perhaps even skeptical.

    As we were taught as youngsters, God is in everything, everywhere. Someone forgot to also include that God is within us. As you accept and believe that you are perfect and of God you will begin to see others as God and Spirit sees us. In walking in our Light we find freedom. For in Light, there can be no darkness, therefore dark thoughts including doubt, jealousy, concern or worry cannot exist in your Mind.

    I do believe that is why I love my work as a Soul Coach ®.  My passion is to help others clear away all of this ego clutter and to understand that in each moment that the experience just lived in that moment creates us anew. We are a new person many times throughout a single day. It is the insistence of keeping a life story that impedes one's ability to lovingly create and connect with All That Is. Through understanding self-talk, beliefs, learned behaviors and assumptions that make it possible to detach from all that is not in one's highest good, providing a clear path for him or her to re-connect with the Soul, the very path to feeling once again the connection to God/Divine/Creator. Joy, pure joy!

    You and I am Creator. You and I are magnificent and perfect. We are inter-connected with the umbilical cord that is energy- that is Love. Bless others with good health, prosperity, abundance, clarity, peace and love (even if you must do this silently in your mind) for in doing so you are blessing your Self.  You are worthy of living a life of abundance, clarity, joy, love and peace as it is your Divine Right. 

   

Why So Hellbent on Believing on a Person is Sheer Evil?

     We all have been affected by the tragedy in Aurora in some way. We can all agree that the victims, their families, the witnesses to the rampage in the theatre and the aftermath are all profoundly affected.  Prayers from around the world are made in earnest, but are there any prayers for the killer?


     I can feel the outrage in the responses in questioning the active prayers for the killer. Understandably so. For years it has been taught in many cultures an eye for an eye. But, has it been taught to believe that a killer just woke up one day in his happy go lucky Self, his Loving Self  that is his connection to the Creator and in his most loving and joyous state of being take the life and maim his brother for the mere sake of doing so? This is not a question of sanity or an excuse to kill or a pardon. It is merely an effort to understand why as a "Nation Under God" do we not exhibit His love; instead we choose an emotional reaction of hate and revenge.


     Discernment is necessary in being human, as is having boundaries and consequences. I am not advocating excusing any violent behavior, I am advocating that we see these tragedies as a reminder to send Love to those who do no longer recognize their Source, their Soul nor recognize their Self. Have none of us had a moment of emotional outburst when we behaved in a manner that we regret? Most of us cannot even fathom the depth of the darkness of the mind or emotions that could move a loving being to take such incomprehensible and appalling actions. We have never personally experienced anything of this magnitude, therefore, for us, we choose to believe that if we did not experience it, it cannot be.


     Quite limiting in our loving nature, isn't it? To wish that another human being was pure evil and in his loving mind and heart chose monstrous and wicked behavior against another. In truth, the idea that other human beings are evil and perhaps sitting next to me on a bus or in a stadium is quite more frightening and disheartening than the thought that humans that are profoundly affected could lose their ability to love and reason.


     To love and reason. Love is originates in the heart, in Spirit. To reason is a function of the Mind.  Yes, it definitely is an issue that the suspect meticulously planned out this entire nightmare, therefore leaving us to question the validity of his innocence by insanity. We can be assured that his defense will defend him in the light that he was delusional during the planning and the systemic attack.


     We can agree that the suspect should not walk among us in our daily lives. We can agree that his actions are in the very least reprehensible. The question is can we as a "Nation Under God" begin to pray for the Soul and Spirit of this man? Can we feel and know in our hearts that to help one man is to help ourselves? We are not praising him, excusing him nor are we pardoning him. We are praying for ourselves. Should anyone of us ever have a moment that we need the Grace of God and for others to understand our humanness, would not this be the same?


     Humanity requires us to show people how to love, not to tell them to do it.  Humanity requires all of us to forgive which is not to condone, nor forget, nor accept- forgiving is for the sake of Self as well as the sake of all humanity. Why would we choose to hold onto hate and hostility? These emotions serve only to bring us down.  We can hold another accountable in our system without allowing ourselves to be beguiled by fear and live in hate.  To live this way- in tremendous fear and hate is not only unhealthy, it is not the intent of our human experience. These emotions are polar to our innate loving selves and our connection to our Creator,our Source or our God.


     Many scriptures come to mind as well as non-religious tenets, but they need not be cited. What is important to hear and to feel is your own Truth. This can be done when you sit in solitude, allowing the mind to rest as it is part of our Ego and personality, you want to feel and hear the Soul and Spirit. In the moments of connecting to your Creator and your loving Self allow yourself to feel your love, your Truth and the direction you must take. What would truly benefit not only you, but all of humanity in these trying times.


     In silence we must also ask, do we wish to be part of the solution or do we wish to continue doing business as it has always been done, reaping the same results as it always has?  Is Mother Earth and humanity in a better place? Only if we help it.