What is Money--Really?: An Exercise in Inner-Knowingness

Money is an energy--a belief system (a mind pattern), actually--that pretty much every human has made an issue, at some time or another, in their life experience.

I'm going to use it as an example of how you can tap into your inner knowingness on any subject--and walk away feeling more free and flowing than you did going in.

Knowingness doesn't require any research or special books, tools, gurus, etc. I no longer own any self-help books. I haven't read one in years, though I still read a lot of fiction--which I've noticed I've gotten pretty picky about. A couple of days ago, I donated some huge reference volumes--concordances, bibles, and such--to the library. What a relief to let go of those heavy things! They were collecting dust downstairs, and that was it.

I did a whole lot of searching and research, years and decades of it--needlessly, as it turns out--to discover the simplicity of what I'm sharing here. Most of it has just been working up that inner trust in myself and giving myself permission to say this: You are everything you need in the moment. You are the master of your life: "I EXIST...and that's all that matters, really."

"I am that I am!"

The beauty of inner knowingness is that it's always with you, ready for you every moment, every breath--you just have to EXPECT it to be there. 

The reason that warm and tingling, expansive breath of Ah-Ha! seemed so elusive to most of us in our past, is we just didn't EXPECT or ASSUME it to be that simple...and so it was--difficult, mysterious, teasingly just beyond our grasp...

"Dear God--where are you? Are you listening to me? I can't hear you! Am I ever going to be good enough to have an actual conversation/relationship with you? I've been waiting an awful long time here--PATIENCE, my arsonage!"...

So keep it simple: ASSUME and EXPECT your inner knowingness. It's there, and the more you practice that expectation, the more you experience it.

How am I feeding my illusion?

The trick of releasing yourself from being stuck in a belief system is to become aware of the things/ideas you feelingly believe to be true and then just simply choose to let it go: "NO MORE! We're done!"

I take a breath into my belly, and then exhale, and feel myself actually taking a step back out of the story--like stepping out of the car of a roller coaster ride. You can't CHOOSE TO LET GO of something you're unaware of having in the first place.

What foundational stories are you currently playing in? I use the term, stories, in place of the word, thoughts, because we have zillions of thoughts flowing through our minds, but it's the thoughts that have a story form--a relative meaning for us--that trigger emotions that cause us to focus our attention (our pinpoint of consciousness) on them, thus energize them into being. Once again--remember that AVOIDANCE is also an emotional focusing of your attention--enough to manifest something you don't actually want.

Am I braced, cowering, trying to avoid, armed, defensive?--Or am I simply allowing myself to beam and breathe with ease, smiling, openly-naked, and proud of it, flowing those zillions of thoughts through with ease, not worried about if it's a "right" or a "wrong" thing to think or feel?

Those feelings are what we radiate out into the universe. The universe, then, co-creatively and unconditionally, mirrors them back in service to us as manifestations for our souls to experience through us in our human realities. Our souls love experiencing, not caring about good or bad, right or wrong--it's all a gift of experience to our soul.

Now, let's get back to the issue of money.

What is money--really?

What does it mean to me? What are my stories about money? HOW DO I FEEL about money? Do I trust myself having outrageous wealth, or having none at all? Do I, can I exist without money?

Write down the underlined part just to ground the question in your reality, and then forget it, and go do something else...

EXPECT your INNER KNOWINGNESS to let you know the answer. You'll recognize it coming in through the expansive warmth and tingles within, and the joyful exhalation of a breath.

I jot down notes for myself to help ground my knowingnesses more firmly in my reality.

You see, I could write the mental definition of money for you here. I could tell you a bit about the history and evolution of monetary systems, give you stock market tips, etc.--but it won't mean crap to you. It would probably just add to the confusion and clutter. And none of it matters--wasted words, the way I see it.

Here are a few beliefs about money that I used to keep feeding an old lack of abundance illusion story and identity--if it helps to get you started, let yourself feel into them:

"If I only had enough money, I'd...create and do great things..."-- I heard this a lot growing up. I wonder how much money it took to create me? I also used my lack of money as an excuse to not experience, or do, great things--or not have to do things I didn't really want to do.

"Money is power--you need money to live."--I gave money power over me, and I used it to limit the amount of joy I allowed myself to have in my life. And...ah...who came first--me or money?

"Money is the root of all evil."--Therefore, I believed I couldn't be both enlightened and live outrageously and abundantly.

"Money can't buy true happiness."--Grandpa tried to hang onto it (suspicious of anyone around him when it came to his money), and Dad tried the opposite extreme of giving it all away to the point that it hurt himself--self sacrifice and martyrdom. This is where I replaced the term "money" with the term "abundance"--no more limitations in the living of my life by using too specific terms." I choose to live my life abundantly and outrageously."

"You don't value money enough if it comes to you effortlessly, too easily."--Prove yourself through your knowledge, intellect, blood, sweat and tears that you're worthy enough to have it. I no longer work in order to"make a living." I haven't slaved at a job for ten years, and I now live more fluidly, expressively and joyfully abundantly, than I did when we had at least double the income from two of us working jobs we were miserable in.

"Money doesn't grow on trees."--Handle money responsibly. Don't be frivolous. Balance that JUST-BARELY-ENOUGH checkbook. For me, balancing the checkbook was actually perpetuating a lack of money consciousness. I have one credit card that I pay off every month--I use it ONLY believing I have ALL the money to cover the entire expense available in the moment I'm buying something. I never use it as a loan, or for I-don-t-have-the-money-right-now credit. I no longer worry about coupons or what's on sale or bargain shop--I buy quality, and subsequently generate less garbage.

"Poor people who gain instant wealth will most likely lose it all again, because they don't know how to handle it."--Okay, why bother, Pen, if you're going to end up poor anyway--it'll just hurt more because then you'll have a taste of something you just can't have.

I could go on here, ad nauseum, with my personal stories, but I trust you can see where I'm going with all this.

What MATTERS to--or, manifests for--you is how aware you are of your own stories about money.

You can only SEE OTHER POTENTIALS, thus make CLEARER, more self-empowered CHOICES about money, ONLY by being aware of the suggestions about money that you've made your truths that you're acting on now, or have played out in your past.

So--What is money? When you ask that question of yourself, and answer it for yourself, using your INNER KNOWINGNESS, you'll probably discover you're well on your way to freedom from the old "I-need- Money-to-have-Power-over-MY-LIFE" belief system.

This is the most self-empowering reminder I can share with you:

If it's in your life, you created it. (Even if it's an abundance of LACK). On some level, you like it--it's serving you and you're getting some benefit from it.

The beauty of realizing, and taking responsibility for, your having created the things in your life that you don't like is YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN UN-CREATE THEM. You are the only one who can truly release yourself from the experience. 

And you do so SIMPLY BY CHOOSING to end the experience, commanding (standing tall inside of you), "NO MORE! We're done!"

Or, if you're bold and trust yourself fully, you could skip everything I wrote up above and simply
ACT (with NO doubting or testing yourself) LIKE THE MASTER of MONEY--and you ARE!

Mom used to say, "Cook, bake whatever you want, Pen. Just wash the dishes when you're done." I'm thinking maybe that applies to all the beliefs I played with in the past--there's a lot of garbage, obsolete stuff, ideas floating around out there, in here. The only way I currently know of cleaning them out is by simply becoming aware of them being--and then bidding them farewell. 

INNER KNOWINGNESS--it's what's happening right now... 

Related Posts:
Money Only Matters when You Make It Matter
Walk Like a Master

Trust Yourself--Your Inner Knowingness

Inner Knowingness--it's ALWAYS present in you. You recognize it and hear it and feel it when you're quietly alone with you.

This blog has been all about me learning to TRUST MYSELF to courageously express out loud what I know to be true inside. I came across an old 3 1/4-inch floppy disc with this old writing I'm posting below--Listen to Your Pain. I had written this months after Mom had passed, but before Dad was diagnosed with cancer, before I ever even knew of such gatherings of people who thought like me--Kryon, Crimson Circle, Lightworker. They all said those of us reading and listening to those channels and shouds were the ones choosing the subject matter being covered. I used to read the shouds and be amazed that they were talking about an experience and insight that I'd had just prior to that particular shoud! We weren't covering anything I hadn't already realized for myself.

The reason I kept returning to the gatherings of like-hearted souls on the Internet was because it helped to hear someone else outside of me say the same stuff--in a hypnotized world where I was terrified to speak up, for fear of ridicule, persecution, rejection.

I never used to think of myself as a writer--I didn't feel eloquent and clear enough. The illustrations on this website are some I came up with for a children's book that my niece was writing. I may not be writing the greatest novel there ever was, nor do I expect to fix anything or anyone with my expressions. It's just so liberating to finally say it all and let it go...let me go...be free!

I'm glad I saved that old floppy disc--it reminded me that I am ready to live an ascended life on earth as an embodied master. For several years, I had just been playing the game, "I'm not ready yet..."--and so it was.

TRUST YOURSELF! You're really all you have right this moment! COURAGEOUSLY express that knowingness--that tingling and warm awareness of you. It connects you to like-hearted sovereign souls.


Listen to Your Pain

By Penny Binek
May 2003


Thanks

I’m sitting here writing as a last ditch effort to make a contribution to this world in which I live. Yesterday I quit the last temporary job I plan to take. My neck and shoulders were burning, along with my eyes, from sitting at a microfilm machine feeding film, straining to make out numbers and pushing more meaningless paper across yet another desk.

It wasn’t easy making the decision to not be the perfect temporary for hire by backing out of a job ten days later after having stated I would be there six weeks. But I did it. I have no idea where I’m going from here, but I guess I’ll write down a few of my experiences on the subject of pain.

A funny thing happened while I was working at that mundane job—at least, it felt that way for me. One of my co-workers was telling me he was having such a pain in his shoulders that he’d been rubbing all day trying to make it go away. I opted to share with him a little exercise a chiropractor experienced in kinesiology had shown me to help align myself when I didn’t have access to a chiropractor. I have a bit of scoliosis. The young man thanked me and said, “Wow, I’ll be sure to remember that one.” Gifts often seem to come when I least expect them, and this reminded me of what I had discovered about pain and its gifts.

I have many teachers outside of this body of mine whose writings and talks have inspired me: Caroline Myss, Dr. Christiane Northrup, Deepak Chopra, Gary Zukov, Neale Donald Walsch, Dr. Phil McGraw, John Grey, Cheryl Richardson, Iyanla Vanzante. And Debbie Ford—the one who really reminded me of unconditional love. There is a place and a season for everything under the sun.

Thank you to the writers of The Urantia Book—a reminder that all is connected and that love and the brother/sisterhood of us all is truly what matters. You reminded me to bless and appreciate all that has been for it all has contributed to me being where, and as, I am now.

To Mom and Dad and every one of our family members, a special thanks for being uniquely you for it was a reminder to be uniquely me. I’m here, aren’t I? And to my husband, Kel, my closest and dearest mirror—if I had to do this all over again, I would pick you as my partner.


Introduction

First off, a few things you should know about me: I have no degrees or professional titles. I’m a reader of many thoughts on many different subjects, which, I have discovered, are actually all connected at their foundations. I like simplicity and I’ll only do the minimum steps it takes to get where I desire to go. I’m basically my own guinea pig and in all truth, I can only state that which seems true to me at the point I’m at.

As with all the authors who’ve impacted my own life have stated in their works, I would like to offer this as my take on pain. If you find something that strikes a chord, use it. If not, that’s quite okay, too. Cast it aside. Truth is ever expanding, and I have no delusions about my own limited knowledge.

A few years back I had just seen Gary Zukov do an engagement on Oprah, and basically the subject matter was pain and how we as humans tend to try to avoid it at all costs. It struck a resounding note with me. I’d been through some pain in my life—emotional, physical, spiritual—and I’d been trying to do whatever it took to avoid feeling it.

When I’d lost a boyfriend in a motorcycle accident, I’d decided that everyone must know how much he/she meant to me because I didn’t want one or the other of us to die without knowing that. It hurt so badly that I hadn’t let him know before he was gone. I wasn’t going to feel that pain and guilt again if I could avoid it.

When the scoliosis (curvature of the spine) kicked in big time and left me incapacitated for a time, my initial reaction was to go to the chiropractor and a doctor to help rid myself of the pain. Yes, they manipulated my spinal alignment and gave me muscle relaxants and medication for inflammation—temporary fixes, bandaids—but no matter how long I went or how hard they tried, they could not make my pain completely disappear.

One day I knew I was going to lose one or both of my parents, or someone else I loved, and I had to search out God and all matters of the spirit in order to be prepared for that moment so maybe it wouldn’t hurt so damn bad, or, if I was lucky, not at all. Well, God blessed me with many answers to my myriad of questions, but Mom died, and it still hurt like hell.

The day after Gary’s  (Zukov) appearance on Oprah, as I was working away in the kitchen, pondering over his words, I accidentally slammed my thumb in one of the drawers. As I instinctively grabbed my thumb with my other hand to squeeze it tightly, I realized that I was just putting off feeling the pain. I told myself to take a breath, relax, remove my hand and just let myself experience the pain—really go in and feel it. So I did, and a funny thing happened. The pain wasn’t anywhere near the tremendous throbbing I had initially anticipated. In fact, it subsided very quickly, while in my mind I tried to focus in on its center of origin and tried to describe it to myself.

That experience led me to another application. I’d been walking around that day with an ache in my lower back. It was one of those general aches that I couldn’t connect with any instance of having done something physically to cause it. But it was there and I felt my energy draining due to its presence.

In keeping with my train of thought of just making the effort to allow myself to experience the pain, I laid down on the floor in the yoga position called the corpse—laying flat on your back with your feet 18 inches apart and your hands 6 inches from your sides, breathing deeply. I then used a breathing exercise to center myself in the moment. I breathed in through my nose, filling my diaphragm, to the count of four. I held it for seven and then breathed out through my mouth to the count of eight. After taking a few deep breaths I turned my attention to feeling my heart beat, then mentally scanned my body for the ache I’d been feeling. I decided to mentally follow the ache to its center and describe and experience it fully. As I did so I reminded myself that I was okay, to take a breath and relax and just let myself feel it.

Suddenly memories and thoughts came to my mind of events which had taken place twenty years prior. I remembered having to move from the farm into town when I was a sophomore in high school. My brother moved onto the place so we left our dogs and cats out there. That farm and those pets were my life at that time, and they eventually died. I realized how angry I’d been at having to move into town and I also realized that when each dog died and each cat disappeared I had never allowed myself to mourn their passing. Here I was, twenty years later, bawling my eyes out, over my loss. I hadn’t even really recognized how angry a person I was in those days until this moment. I had basically used the anger to avoid feeling the pain.

I lay there crying it out, and as the tears flowed I felt the pain in my lower back ebb away to nothingness, leaving behind only the sensation of having had those muscles put through a workout. They didn’t feel overly stretched or strained. It was a pleasant feeling of having done something good for my body.
Wow! These bodies are amazing!


Traditional Modern Medicine

In this day and age we’re told it’s not right to treat oneself when illness or disease appears. We are to consult with our doctors first concerning any diets or exercise regimens or treatments. The doctor is God, and what he determines in his diagnosis is the truth of all matters concerning our bodies.

I never had a whole lot of answers given me from my few visits to various doctors. Sure, they know something about some of the machinery in our bodies, but no one outside of us can possibly know all the perceptions, beliefs and experiences that have brought each of us to that one moment of answering their set of questions. No one else but me can ever stand inside of myself, inside this body of experience.

The doctor can prescribe a pill or a salve and set bones or sew stitches for the outer things, and I thank God that they are available for those moments, but at some point each of us has to take responsibility for our own selves.

My husband recently lost his job and, along with it, our health insurance coverage. In this day and age we’re inundated with messages that one can never have too much insurance because anything awful can happen, and without the money to pay for it one doesn’t have access to health facilities and the best treatments money can buy. If fear isn’t the basis behind that message I relinquish my belief in having any intelligence at all.

So the few times I go to the doctor a good portion of the visit includes filling out a stack of paperwork so the insurance will pay for it. And if medication is prescribed it’s often the latest drug of the day being blasted all over the TV screen—some synthetic crap a pharmaceutical industry has put out that our bodies hardly recognize so the list of possible side effects is actually longer than the list of things it’s supposed to cure.

Okay, it’s time to back off and remind myself of the gifts even those aspects bear me. Even though I see them now as too big for our own good and needing to pass away, I can appreciate that they had, and still have, a place in this world, just not to the extreme we’re currently experiencing. Balance is best.

In all my searching, one of the greatest treasures I’ve discovered is the value of taking a deep breath. The very act places me in the moment and eases the tensions of panic and fear. I’ve watched that very exercise calm someone on the way to the emergency room. Imagine a doctor or nurse who’s attending a patient taking the few seconds it takes to teach someone to take a breath that helps loosen tensed muscles that come with fear. Granted, it’s not a cure-all for every situation but I could see it helping in a lot of ways.


Thanks to All Who touch my life,
For you are the mirrors
Reflecting back to me
My own thoughts, beliefs and perceptions.


Sometimes We Just Plain Talk too Much

We live in an era of communication—computers, wireless phones, digital this and digital that. Frankly I’ve discovered that sometimes we spend so much time and effort trying to express ourselves to the person with whom we’re conversing that we don’t spend the same time and effort listening to his/her actual response. We’ve already made our mind up about how things are, so the person could actually be saying the very opposite of what we expect and we still don’t hear it.

I used to be a “great listener and friend” until I discovered that as long as I listen to someone blather on and on and on about his/her perceived troubles, they never had to look at things from a different, possibly healthier, perspective because my acceptance of them told them they were completely right. So I heard the same old dramas over and over again, just with different actors as time passed by. But that made me a good friend, right? Ha! Hardly. Inside my mind I was giving them a good thrashing, and later I would be physically avoiding them until my temper cooled.

Long before we had words we used body language. And no matter how choice and lovely the words we speak may sound, the truth will be announced through our bodies. I’m learning that sometimes I’m more honest keeping quiet than trying to appear as something other than what my body is stating.

Plus, when I speak out in the heat of the moment, often it’s been in a feeling of self-defense. Cornered-feeling people say the darnedest things, and I’ve often blamed the other person for “making me feel that way.” The truth is no one can make me feel anything. I’m the one choosing to be bothered by whatever they’re doing or saying.

I’ve discovered I have a few choices available to me in those moments. One, I can play the victim and tell that person that they need to shape up (been there, done that—and not had a lot of success in it). Or two, I can take a breath, step back, and ask myself what it is about them that bothers me so much?

Debbie Ford, in her book, The Dark Side of the Light Chasers, was terrific in reminding me that all those who touch my life are bearing gifts of experience for me. All are to be blessed, especially those I initially have perceived as enemies. Often the irritating ones are those people mirroring back qualities and ways of being that I’ve actually made a mental note that that was no way to be—ever. And shame often accompanied that feeling because I found myself actually being that way and hated that I’d give in to such temptation.

A case in point is the way I chose to handle Mom’s death. When my boyfriend died I pretty much used anger to get through it. I wasn’t a gracefully accepting, or dignified, mourner. I blamed God and was miserable. I got so miserable, that I finally gave up and started looking for God because I’d realized how screwed up mankind was without him. We were so law-infested we couldn’t turn around without a citation.

At least, that’s the way I felt and still do feel from time to time.

So by the time Mom passed on, I’d searched the world over to come to peace with losing the next person and I’d come to love God. And someone who loves God shouldn’t be so pained by losing the company of one so dear. You should be happy they’re at peace, right? Hardly. I made myself go numb because the thought of allowing myself to experience that pain literally took my breath away. On top of that I had these awful niggly feelings of anger with my dear, dear mom for having left us, but I wouldn’t let them surface. "That just wasn’t the right thing to feel!"

Then one night as I crawled under the covers, my wrist and hand were aching something terrible. Generally, I’d attribute such aches to arthritis from old injuries that flare a bit with the changing weather and seasons. But on this night, I’d happened to remember my previous pain sessions and decided to test my theories out once more.

I lay my hand in a comfortable spot, took some relaxing deep breaths, told my hand that I was ready to listen, and focused in mentally to seek out the center and origin of the pain.

What feelings and thoughts should emerge? Everything that I had determined was no way to think and feel! But this time I told myself that feelings that were allowed to be experienced didn’t harm as badly as those stuffed away deep inside to rear an ugly head when I was unaware of their existence. So I took another breath and told myself it was okay to feel everything, to embrace it, honor it, and then let it go.

"Mom did everything right. I should be more like her. She did whatever job it took to provide for her loved ones. She was selfless, loving and gentle...blah, blah, blah..." But because she was such a faithful rock, some of us were finding it hard to go forward without her. Suddenly we had to be strong because we didn’t have her to run to. And yes, I felt anger because of that, and yes, I felt selfish because I missed having her physically here. And no, I couldn’t be my mom because I was me—uniquely me.

As all these thoughts and feelings and tears and sobs came to the foreground I once again literally felt the ache of my hand disappear. All that was left was the sensation of having done a physical, therapeutic workout, which left me feeling great.


Apologize not for your own
Or for another’s existence,
For it’s out of LOVE we All come,
And it’s unto LOVE we All return.


Sometimes SILENCE really is golden. I’ve wondered what it would be like to have the world take an entire day to be silent. Our nation has done it for a moment, but what would happen if it were extended into an entire day? Imagine one day of no shouting matches between partners and neighbors. We couldn’t accuse anyone else for our unhappiness. We’d have an entire day to ponder what words would come from our mouths the next day, as well as an entire day to listen to the gifts around and within ourselves.

Sometimes we’re so convinced we already know the answer that we’re afraid to even ask the question. So we busy ourselves bracing for the worst. We just know it’s going to be horrendously painful and we try taking whatever path around that mountain that we can possibly think of—anything to avoid that awful moment we believe is waiting for us at the peak.

I’ve been there and done that. Several years ago I had some brief, but painful moments resurface from my childhood.

Several years earlier when I was in my twenties a certain person apologized for events that took place when I was young—I don’t remember my exact age or events going on that I can connect it to. I had so deeply buried those moments of shame that I had convinced myself that it had just been a dream, and then here this person comes blowing my hard work away with one breath. I quickly acknowledged my forgiveness of them and stuffed it as quickly away as I possibly could. As far as I was concerned nothing really ever happened.

In my mid-thirties a friend confided in me that she had been a victim of child molestation. That was fine and dandy if she wanted to share that bit of info with me, but no way was I swapping stories. No good would come bringing up something that was over with and no good would come talking about it either. After all, one can’t change the past.

But the damage was done. No matter how hard I tried, the memories began to resurface. I spent time walking and talking it out with God, telling myself no good could come from dredging old things up. It would only bring pain and recrimination—something I was unwilling at that time to put anyone through. The person had apologized and asked my forgiveness, which I’d given immediately and wholeheartedly. Why was this coming up?

One snowy, winter night I was out shoveling snow around midnight. I’d shoveled all the walks and now was attacking the spots where we parked in the parking lot. As I scooped and tossed the pristine cold, I felt all the heartache and pain the other person was feeling. I wished I could take it all back but I couldn’t erase it. The pain and the self-inflicted torture and self-condemnation felt worse than anything any authority outside that person could mete out in the name of justice. Blessedly, no one chanced upon the spectacle I presented that night. The tears and sobs were beyond containment. But one thing I took from feeling that pain was the knowledge that I needed to find them to let them know I’d felt their pain, and to make certain they knew I truly had forgiven them.

When I’d relayed my message, I was told it had been an answer to prayer and that it felt as though the jail doors had been thrown wide open.

I thought it was all done with, but frankly, we were just beginning.

Step by scary, painful step, God got me to work my way through this.

First of all, he told me I had to tell the secret of my past (which I had intended to take to my grave) to others. The first one was my husband. And I was terrified he wouldn’t want anything to do with me once he knew, but he took it wonderfully. Of course, he couldn’t resist asking the question I’d told God I dreaded and knew would come. He asked, “Who?” But God had seemingly told me that I didn’t have to point a finger or make an accusation. That wasn’t what this was about.

That seemingly huge step went over quite well and I thought to myself, “At last I can put this to rest.” I was feeling great!

The next day I awoke with a pain in my shoulder and neck that introduced me to the term muscle spasm as the day progressed. By the next morning I’d put Kel through a hell of a night nursing me. My first thought was to find a chiropractor because I’d had a bulged disc once before that some other chiropractor near my hometown was able to adjust before I had gotten to the point I was currently at. I had what felt like electric jolts course through me with pretty much any movement and my head was curled over to the side and down. I couldn’t roll over or lift myself up, or lay myself down. I was terrified.

A kindly chiropractor had me come in immediately, but once he realized I couldn’t even stand still for an x-ray, much less endure an adjustment without tearing a bunch of tight muscles up in the process, he sent me to a medical doctor, who would prescribe muscle relaxants. Then I was to come back for a treatment.

After going every day the first week for a treatment, followed by 2-3 times a week after that, I found I got some relief but my neck just couldn’t seem to stay in place. I’d wake up from a sleepless night to find that things had shifted and back I’d go for another adjustment.

A couple of months later, I finally was out walking (which is one of my favorite methods of prayer and meditation) when I came to the decision that the chiropractor had taken me as far as he could. It was time I took full responsibility for my health. And I told him so after my next visit.

He promptly pulled out my x-rays, told me we were following this 12-week program, and stated that if I didn’t follow it through I would “crash and burn.” I told him my mind was made up and he charged me an extra twenty dollars for the office chat.

Shortly after my initial appointment with the chiropractor, he or one of his associates asked me if I knew what had brought this on, was there an emotional trauma connected? I answered, “No.” I honestly thought it was the truth. Yes, I’d just revealed a huge secret to my husband about my past, but it was a relief—nothing I thought of as a traumatic event.

I had a recurrence of the muscle spasm type pain similar to the first episode a couple months after stopping my treatments, but this time I knew to put ice instead of heat on it immediately, and I took one of the muscle relaxants. I had been through this once before so my terror level had diminished considerably compared to the first time and I managed to get myself over the hump.

The pain in my neck would show up from time to time and I’d get what felt like a huge ball in my throat that seemed to affect my air supply and swallowing. However, when I went to the medical doctor with those symptoms nothing would appear on x-ray other than the scoliosis.

I came across Caroline Myss and read her book, Anatomy of the Spirit, found her website and learned of the correlation of diseases, body parts, chakras and emotions. The whole lump-in-the-throat thing began to make sense. I began to notice that when I was upset the symptoms would appear, and it especially appeared when I felt the need to speak up about my truth.

It was a scary thing to put my thoughts out there for someone to possibly ridicule. But I eventually started testing the waters, and yes, I got ridiculed at times, too.

As I delved into this area of study, I became more and more amazed at the human body and spirit. I had read in Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom, by Dr. Christiane Northrup, that it had been discovered that every cell of the human body was intelligent—it wasn’t just the brain.

I began to challenge my belief that menstruation was a curse put on women for being the reason for the fall of mankind. You know—the whole Adam and Eve thing. Dr. Northrup, in her book, encouraged me with the idea that menstruation was a time for reflection, spirituality and honoring the things we kept stuffed below the surface. I began to embrace and welcome my period, which in turn regulated it and I found myself cramp-free for the first time in years since the death of that boyfriend years before.

I began to see myself as a capable and intelligent woman who though maybe somewhat different from a man, was not inferior to him because of those differences. I’d somehow had it in my head that men were the leaders and even though I did well in school (I was valedictorian) I had this belief that the guys were more intelligent. Nobody stated any such thing to me. That was just my perception and belief.

I watched a lot of Oprah in those days. Iyanla Vanzante reminded me to stop and take a breath. John Grey encouraged me to feel those emotions I had thought unacceptable to feel—anger, fear, sadness, and sorrow. I read one of Deepak Chopra’s books and loved his message. Cheryl Richardson reminded me to look for all the things I could be thankful for. I loved Dr. Phil’s candidness though I never wanted to be on the receiving end of it personally. Gary Zukov’s appreciation of all who shared a part of themselves with him made me admire his work. And Neale Donald Walsch touched me with his story of The Little Soul and the Sun. None of these people came across as superior beings trying to save the rest of us lowly beggars. They shared their stories with us, and I, for one, was made richer.

When I was a kid, our family would make occasional trips down to Belle Fourche, SD to see a chiropractor. Dr. Keith Logan was the man my dad credits with having kept him from being seriously crippled. If we had any spinal issues he was the man we went to see. He was blind but that seemed to only enhance his therapeutic skill. One thing I remember especially from Dr. Keith is that before he made an adjustment he’d tell me to take a deep breath and then as I exhaled he’d make the adjustment.

I tried that with the last chiropractor, only he seemed unaware of the whole idea because he’d be adjusting me in the midst of my attempt to take a deep, relaxing breath. I wasn’t bold enough to broach the subject with him, but I wish I had because he would have found me easier to adjust. As it was, I was dreading every adjustment, though it resulted in relief afterwards. I know my fear and tenseness didn’t make his job any easier.


Little One, come out be free,
Little One, come and play with me.
It’s all right, let your secrets unfold,
And cry the tears of pain you’ve tried to hold.
Come to me, I’ll hold you tight,
And the darkness I’ll not let bite.
Shout your anger, vent your fears,
Feel your sadness, your sorrows—
Then watch them disappear.

Little One, come fly with me,
I’ve loosed your shackles—
Guilt, shame and misery.
Little One, come let your spirit soar
Through wondrous places you’ve never dreamed before.

Little One, come sing with me,
We have a song, a joyous melody.
Little One, come lift your heart in song, 
Giving thanks for all parts played,
Whether right or seeming wrong.
Hear its thunder, hear its roar!
A celebration like we’ve never felt before!

 Little One, at last you’re free,
Little One, come and dance with me.
It’s all right, you’ve let your story be told,
And in the Light of Day behold!
You’re a wonder,
Life’s a gift,
A celebration of All that Is!
Though you stumble, though you fall,
When it all is said and done
All there is 
Is LOVE…


The Amazingly Magnificent Human Body, Mind and Spirit

I have been intrigued by the idea that every cell in the human body is a part of that which we call the mind. Man could build no such efficient and wondrous a machine.

I have had the opportunity through all the temporary work I’ve done in the past to be a part of corporations and various systems of product output. I’ve always been at the labor end of things, whether it was office work or factory work, and as such, I know how it feels to be viewed as an expendable, replaceable resource.

Plus, I also know what can happen when managers and supervisors refuse to acknowledge and try to work out complaints or malfunctions which labor might try calling to their attention. I used to view the cells in my body as such. A pain was just an annoyance getting in my way. The concept that it could possibly be one of those guides God blesses us with was a foreign one.

Imagine for a moment that you are the expert whose sole purpose is to run a machine in your factory, and you do so like no other possibly can. You know its sounds when all is going smoothly and you know the sounds that signal warnings of breakdown if it isn’t attended to in a timely manner.

Suppose during one of those small repair jobs you notice that there is a part wearing out and it needs replacement. So you send a memo to your supervisor stating the condition of things. And he relays it to the factory manager who, because he’s so busy trying to find more ways to make larger profits by buying more glossy ads and painting the factory building, sets the request aside as something which will just have to wait until there is enough time and money for such things. Just grease it a little more. Grease is cheap.

Well, you know your machine and you jerry-rig things in highly imaginative ways to keep it running, but eventually that part is so worn that, try as you might, the output is lessening. All the memos you sent were ignored and you were chastised for even bringing the whole thing up when obviously there were more important things to consider. You see it headed to a major breakdown which is going to cause a domino effect in the entire company so in desperation you skip the whole memo idea and burst into the manager’s office and grab him by the collar and shake him, yelling at him to get that part or else!

Now, imagine for a moment that you are the manager and your body cells are the magnificent workforce of the company called ME. Some of the memos on your desk are stamped “PAINFUL.”

Are you going to address them early on by committing yourself to listen open-mindedly to what they have to tell you about their specific area in your company? Or are you going to pass it along for someone else to look at, a specialist or someone outside of you? Not that asking for specialized help is a bad thing either, but are you going to be present at their inspection and repair efforts so you’re fully aware of what’s taking place and making sure the true problem is being corrected?

Maybe you’ll choose the grease method and pop a pill or whatever it takes to numb things for a while. No matter what you choose or how long you put it off, ultimately the outcome depends solely on you the manager. There really is no right or wrong. It just depends on what you want to experience most.

I have done all the above. I used to blame the specialists as being incompetent, but in truth, how can anyone outside help me if I am unwilling to step up to the task and be honest with myself and them? They haven’t a clue of all the beliefs, perceptions and thoughts coursing through my brain in an instant, much less over my lifetime. I can only stand inside myself; no one else can do that for me.

It’s just been in the last few years that I’ve discovered that I can actually listen openly to my pain, and I’ve discovered great joy and immense relief when I’ve chosen such a session. Yes, tears are shed, but they’ve been tears that have welled up inside for so long the pressure was unbearable.

Bless the Pain, too

It was just today during an immensely gratifying walk that I realized that I have been trying to keep all those around me from experiencing the painful moments of life. I knew what it was like to feel guilt-ridden for having taken another’s existence for granted. I carried that guilt for so many years until one day I realized punishing myself for mistakes long since past wasn’t honoring the life of the one I’d lost.

So when Mom died, and one of my brothers and my sister started stating how guilty they felt about having taken Mom for granted, I shushed them. I actually lightly bounced my finger off my sister’s head in an attempt to stop her flow of guilt before she could utter it. I told her Mom wouldn’t want that. At the time I thought I was doing the right thing. I realize now that I denied her the chance to experience the gifts that accompany the pain we know of as guilt.

Guilt motivated me to let my loved ones know that no matter what ever happened, I would love them always. That was a tremendous gift. My mom died, but I knew without a doubt that she knew how I felt about her. Guilt provided another chance to experience the loss of a loved one in a different way.

I’ve realized that denying anyone the chance to experience pain would take away the purpose of life on this earthly realm of relativity. It is as crucial to feeling joy as darkness is to the experiencing of light. What an education!

Bless you, Scoliosis

Tonight I studied my naked, twisted torso in the mirror. The realization finally hit that I was the one who created this anomaly. It was from years of hanging my head in shame, looking downward out of inferiority, and carrying burdens far too heavy. I blamed myself for never being quite up to snuff in the world.

Oprah has done a number of shows on child molestation and I hated them because the focus seemed on pointing accusing fingers at the perpetrator. No one seemed to realize that for me to point a finger would be to have it do a 180 and center on me. I hated the word “victim” of child molestation because I didn’t feel as though I could honestly call myself a victim. I felt it made me powerless, and in my heart, I felt partly responsible. Those parts I didn’t touch much because I perceived them as dirty or nasty intrigued me. I could have said “No,” and it would have stopped; but curiosity got the best of me, and I discovered it felt good to be touched in those places.

I don’t remember when or why it stopped, but it did. And the only way I knew to deal with the shame was to bury it as though it had never happened. And that was a merciful thing to do at that point in my life. Later, when I turned to God for help, was when it resurfaced, and he took me through it step by step with the greatest mercy. It took some pain to get me through it, and my uneasiness and unwillingness to accept myself made itself known by the dis-ease we call scoliosis. I did that to myself.

Wow! The amazing power of one human being is astounding. I created that without any idea of how creatively powerful a being I am. And I can assure you that with my new awareness I’m seeking to be more balanced and whole in my creativity.

I cried when I looked in the mirror, realizing what I had done. In blaming myself I had made myself a prostitute for the emotions and unhappiness of others. By refusing to be a victim, I had to discover a means of accepting myself—blemishes as well as beauty marks. And finally, yes, I have been a victim, but mostly of my own ignorance.

God bless us, Scoliosis—you have given me so much…


That Thing Called Unconditional Love

My concept of love was once very limited and based on a number of conditions being met. When I first began my search for God I loved most of all the stories concerning Jesus. He said, “Judge not, lest you be judged.”

Much as I loved and admired those words I exasperatingly found myself time and again falling far short of actually manifesting them. One day as I was washing dishes, my hands submerged in soapy water, I asked God why I seemed intent on judging others when I knew better than that? I was so disgusted with myself.

Suddenly this silent voice within me said, “Penny, how do you expect to love everyone else if you don’t love yourself? I love you. Love yourself and you will find it easy to love others just as they are.” 

Until that moment I had viewed myself as unworthy of being loved because I wasn’t perfect. I caused a car accident and I didn’t speak up for the weak when I should have and I was a coward and a failure and a quitter at so much. I wasn’t generous enough—the list was endless. But suddenly none of that mattered. God loved me just for being.

There were no buts or if-onlys attached—not one single condition to be met. Now, that is LOVE!

And it’s that love that helps me entertain the possibility of looking at situations from perspectives different than I ever have before. It encourages me to be honest with myself. I can listen to my body and actually let feelings be felt that I once thought unacceptable to feel at all. It challenges me to step out of the victim mode, which is often a first reaction to unsettling experiences, and into accepting my responsibility for that which I face.

Once I challenge the thought that it’s out to get me and instead start studying it more closely to see what gifts it bears me, relief and joy and thanks replace the cringing, disgust and frustration. And the world makes sense.

I believe God puts us here to work things out and he puts a whole cast of characters in to give us the experiences which are meant to draw us ever closer to Him. Most of my wisest moments have been when I wasn’t aware that I was being wise, and I’ve gained the most from fellow students who had no concept of what their words or actions meant for me.

I once thought I had to fix the world. Now I realize it doesn’t need fixing at all. It’s given me an education beyond expression in words. As the words of a song written by my brother, Steve, says, “It’s just life. It’s just life, my friend.” All I really need to do is start looking around and saying, “Thanks for being…”




 

Moving Beyond Prejudice and Into Enlightened Living

We are multi-dimensional beings. One of the things that means to me is that my soul has lived many lives in many diverse expressions. This singular life expression as "Penny" is just one act of multitudes.

And once I became aware of that, I realized the suggested prejudices that I'd made my truths in this lifetime, started to EASILY fall away and disappear. Because, you see, when I could imagine myself being of another race, gender, religion, culture, sexual orientation--and playing the full spectrum of roles from villain, victim, hero, coward, idiot, intellectual, healer, murderer, divine angelic being, maybe even a piece of mineral (way back in the Earth's beginning--ha!), to being a piece of Source/God also, etc.--I began to feel this amazing virtue called COMPASSION, an unconditional acceptance of all that is.

Compassion has no agenda. It realizes no one needs saving or fixing or pitying, because it honors each in one's own desire to simply have an experience in the safety of this Earthly playground illusion. When I'm compassionate, I see the gift for me--of whomever being exactly as they are, and I am--in the manner and the moment our lives touch.

Along with GRATITUDE for the wisdom my soul gained from all of this dense and gritty, only-of-its-kind experience.

Through the ages and even in this lifetime, alone, I have played all kinds of dark roles. You know, the icky ones, where people don't like you so much. And I've indulged in my share of prejudices and superstitious nonsense. At times, I was so immersed in the roles and played them so convincingly well that I, especially, couldn't stand myself--and then I'd feel, and believe I was, stuck in that identity--wondering how I was ever going to come out of this one unscathed, with my chin up and able to look anyone in the eye.

Most prejudices seem to have arisen out of the sense of one, a few, or many, driven by the fear for his/her own survival, trying to gain control of, or power over, the masses. We've all played a lot of games with one another where we've been trying to get control of our outer world by trying to adjust the mirrors--the reflections of oneself. This is called the sexual energy virus--energy stealing from, or energy feeding on, something or someone outside of oneself in order to feel complete and at HOME.

Superstitions and prejudices--energy stealing--get perpetuated through long-established belief systems (patterns) like religion, government, family, cultures. We blindly don't question that which has been repeated so often that we're unaware of even looking at it from a different perspective. And I'm amazed at how much superstition STILL influences our consciousness, thus our behavior and experiences.

I'm going to share a few personal secrets about disconcerting dreams I've had in my sleep in the past. According to the self-masters that I've had the joy of listening to, and sharing with, whenever we close our eyes to fall asleep at night, we actually release ourselves from this reality and return to our souls to re-balance and rejuvenate. We also expand, or travel inter-dimensionally (beyond linear time and space), into our soul's other life expressions.

Guess what! I've had dreams where I was a lesbian. It was very uncomfortable at the time because I wasn't at ease being anything other than heterosexual, and I certainly never planned on sharing that with anyone else-much less, here on this very public blog. But often, the most cruel homophobe is going to be someone running away from the fear of this sexual orientation being a possible reality in themselves.

Maybe when more such people realize that, there will come an end to abuse of those who are simply more different in the expressions and explorations of themselves than what is currently the accepted norm around them. It's certainly worth outing myself about some dreams I've had.

Yes--we're each very different and unique--a beauty and a gift that should really be celebrated. One day, that will be our reality...

I've also had more dreams, than I ever wanted, where I was getting more intimate, than I cared to admit to, with people who happen to play the roles of relatives in this current life expression of mine. In one particular recurring dream, I was married to this person and we had children. Now, when you take into consideration that we happen to just, by default, fall, or get sucked into, the same family lines due to ancestral karma--it makes sense, and takes away the fear that I might have some sort of incest leaning that I might need to get psychological therapy for.

Ancestral karma is the tendency we have to come back and play together in the same groupings of souls, simply because we're familiar with each other. In other words--I could easily have been my great-great grandpa or grandma. The beauty of karma is that you can SIMPLY CHOOSE to step off that wheel...and so it shall be no more...

In other words, from the moment of choosing, and onward, you can pick the souls you choose to play with on this playground. You've expanded beyond the old FAMILY belief system and its superstitions and prejudices--you know, the old and tired lines: "Blood is thicker than water...You can pick your friends, but you can't pick your families...You have a reputation to uphold...You're a reflection of our family--don't screw it up..."

Every single one of us loves unconditionally--and we have been doing so all along--just close your eyes and feel it. Unconditional love and acceptance isn't for some god out there separate from us--it's you, it's me. It permeates and is present everywhere, even when on the surface of things it appears to be complete chaos, drama, trauma and turmoil. That's just a bunch of actors having a grand time playing out a scene--A GRAND ILLUSION.

And now, my soul seems to desire to bring all the wisdom it's gained from its myriad life expressions to share with, and to take an active, hands-on role in, this particular expression that I AM--right now. How do I allow that to take place with ease and grace?

To paraphrase Adamus Saint-Germain (an ascended self-master very much loved and appreciated by me):

ACT (walk around or sit, be--upright, chin level, shoulders straight not hunched, stomach in, chest out, eyes twinkling, direct and unflinching, breathing easily) LIKE A MASTER--morning, noon and night-- until you realize (like all the ascended self-masters have done before) that ALL of this LIFE on Earth is JUST AN ACT...

I've been acting all master-y for quite awhile now. Not only does it feel good...it's A LOT of FUN!

What a GIFT--this GRAND ILLUSION...