With Friendship, Love, and Honor, Yeshua--A.k.a., Jesus

I've been intrigued by, and in love with, Yeshua--aka, "Jesus" according to religious dogma--since I was a child. I'd never attended church, Bible camps or Sunday schools. What I knew of him in my lifetime, came from a movie at the theater in town and from the celebration of Christmas. I spent most of my Christmas Eves trying to catch Santa Claus sneaking in, and trying to stay awake until midnight in hopes of seeing that bright and shining Star of Bethlehem.

I Don't Know How to Love Him--a song performed by Mary Magdalene's character in the musical, Jesus Christ, Superstar--resonated with me on so many levels. Yet, I was just a kid without an actual religious education.

I always wanted to learn more about him--his entire life--from childhood to death, resurrection, and beyond. The Holy Bible scriptures--dogma-laced stories that made him into a perfect, untouchable God, incarnate in flesh and blood, that I was supposed to worship just because everybody was doing it that way--didn't tell me enough about what Jesus's life was like. I read a book called The Aquarian Gospel of Jesus the Christ, which told of his travels throughout India, Europe and Egypt, etc.; and I read Celtic, Old World history fiction that referred to him being as far north as what is now known as the United Kingdom.

I read about the history of Earth in a tome called The Urantia Book. It covered the nature of God, spiritual beings--seraphim, cherubim, the Melchizadeks, to name a few--the creation of the planet, the evolution and revelation cycles of human consciousness and physicality, and the start and growth of all the world religions and science. It was heavy, mind-blowing reading at the time--thousands of pages channelled back in 1933, but left unpublished until after World War II. It, too, dedicated a section to the life story of Jesus, and connected it to archangel Michael. I ate it up. I was finally reading something about an actual person--who had feelings, emotions, and human difficulties that I could relate to.

How much of these stories was fact, and how much was fiction? I honestly don't know and don't really care. All that matters is the parts that resonate with my own heart--that resonate with that SAFE and SACRED SPACE that is within me always.

And those parts are more sacred and holy to me than anything that I ever read in the Bible--an account that left a huge gap about what happened to him between the ages of 12 and 30. Plus, I didn't believe his mother Mary was a virgin, especially after reading more about the evolution of religions, and discovering that the Virgin Birth originated in pagan tradition. I also didn't need him to be celibate.

As far as I'm concerned, the scriptures were originally channelled, often from a place of purity, too, but all those words have been taken too literally by too much mental studying (instead of allowance of the heart to translate). The true message has been drastically distorted by those hypnotized and blind-to-who-we-really-are beings through the ages, who had an agenda of attaining power and control over others. I include myself in that latter group, too. I'm certain aspects of my own soul played in all those stories over the ages, dabbling in playing the spectrum of roles, ranging from power-hungry persecutor to victim.

I felt as though a part of me actually knew Yeshua when he walked his story upon the Earth. And inside, I KNOW that another life expression of my soul, actually did. I'm certain many of you who have similar feelings to mine, were there also. It just makes sense.

I call you not father, mother, brother, sister...I call you "Friend."

I've shared, in a few postings in this blog, that calling him my lord and savior, and trying to use him as my telephone to God--well, those approaches just didn't work for me. I found myself uncomfortable and unable to sincerely call him my savior. The words clogged in my throat, they just never resonated with me, even when I thought of myself as being a Christian. In the early 1980s, a much-beloved friend and fine art creator did a portrait of Jesus--and titled it, "Friend." You can see more of the art of Marsha Lehmann by clicking here: Prairie Bleu Studios.

Having done a few drawings of my own, I do know that titles have a way of finding their way into whatever you're working on, long before one's completed the piece. It doesn't come from mentally trying to figure one out--it's just there with a certainty of heart--an inner knowingness.

But, before I knew that, I was certain that Marsha's title fit how I felt about Yeshua--and it seemingly fits not only how Yeshua viewed us, but also how he desired to be perceived.

Friendship doesn't depend on you being a member of a family, a religion, or a country. It's an HONOR to be called a friend. Especially for me to be called so by him, because it means I have it in me to not energetically feed off him. It means that I'm not trying to use him. That I can be with him, just for the joy of being together. I like to think we're laughing--A LOT.

It's been awhile since I've perused the translated scriptures, but here are some of my impressions from them. I'm not speaking literally here--this is how I've perceived them by reading and experiencing through my heart.

I remember someone trying to call Yeshua "Master (Maestro)." But Yeshua said, "No. I'm not your master." To me, this just doesn't feel like Jesus was into having a fancy I'm-better-than-you title, with a ton of "lesser" servants running around trying to guess and do his bidding, nor was he out to have others worship him. I don't get the sense he wanted anyone to place him on a pedestal above them, and then to have them pray to, or through, him--for stuff, or about situations.

I do, however, have the feeling that he likes to visit with us as friends--to compassionately and unconditionally love and encourage us, helping us clarify things--when we ask him to--in order to help us remember the Christ seed within each of us, and to help us bring it into bloom, and to live out that realization.

Too much emphasis has been placed on expecting someone else, other than oneself, to perform miracles. I'd prefer to create my own miracles, rather than be dependent on another to do it for me--where's the fun in that?

I actually had a very profound dream where everyone was oohing and ahhing at huge screens of images, trying to direct my attention to them as though I should be amazed and awestruck by them--that I should worship them. But all the pretty man-made fireworks on the screens meant absolutely nothing to me. It reminded me of that admonition in the scriptures where we're warned to look to the true teacher within, rather than the outer, false and misleading ones who are pointing and saying, "Look here. Look over there. Look outside of yourself for the coming of the Christ..."

Remember the miraculous incident involving the feeding of thousands with a couple of fish and a loaf of bread? Did Yeshua stand up on a rock to perform a miracle to entertain, to woo, and to ooh! and ahh!, a delighted crowd with his antics in order to gain followers? No. These people had been listening to his teachings for hours--he had a bunch of hungry people on his hands. And people with empty stomachs are easily riled by others in the crowd who are up to no good.

I'm certain he was Self-Aware and trusted himself implicitly. He KNEW within HIMSELF--without a hint of doubt--that the universe would manifest what he truly felt, thus radiated out, to be possible. All of it happening without a lot of efforting being done by anyone.

If I recall correctly, he'd had some practice in his own inner knowingess by then--inspired some to heal themselves. I'm not sure where his invitation to Lazarus to return from the dead back to the living fits in the timeline. He did NOT force or demand Lazarus back into his body--ENLIGHTENED CONSCIOUSNESS cannot use force--force does not work.

My point is, Yeshua knew he could create what he wanted, as long as it honored, instead of intruding upon, the free choice of others--just because he embraced and trusted his SELF-MASTERY. He realized he was the master of his own life.

He had a discussion with one of his apostles at that time, encouraging his friend to be aware of, to trust and to have faith in, his own knowingness within. That he, too, could abundantly feed the multitudes, or whatever, as long as he trusted himself.

Yeshua said there would be many more, who would come later, that could move mountains and other seeming impossibilities--and who would accomplish more than even he did.

He showed us that death wasn't real--that there is life after death! I'm not throwing aside the possibility of experiencing that one for myself! He went to a great deal of trouble and difficulty (he experienced a miserable death nailed to a cross, and, in the bargain, got mistakenly perceived as "God's blood sacrifice") in order to lay the groundwork for us. I'm grabbing that baton, and I'm going to run with it--but I'm not feeling guilty about being some "sinner" who he supposedly "lovingly sacrificed his life for." That really screws with my concept of friendship. 

I love Yeshua's teaching and messages! I truly feel his messages were meant to inspire personal love and sovereignty--and, yes, friendship with others. I got the warm and tinglies just writing that.

Yeshua's story tells me that personal enlightenment doesn't depend on wealth, the "right" religion, family, government, intelligence, education, orientation, gender, doing the perfect deeds, following all the rules, personal sacrifice or social status. I don't care who you are, or what your stories are--when you're ready, you'll choose to be the master of your own life, in your own way. That's the message, I know from within myself, that he was trying to convey.

Many of his teachings were shared through the use of parables. Hearing a story without you being personally accused in it, is less likely to put your ego fully on the defensive. Yes--if you feel into it, the ego armor is still on, even then. Just not the full metal jacket. When encouraged to step back out of the scene enough, in order to allow a broader perspective of all of it, one is more likely to ponder over the story when observing it from a bit of distance. It's easier, then, to make a connection with a person's opened heart.

I never heard Yeshua campaigning for the job of King of the Jews. I never read anything about him trying to amass an army of soldiers (or voters) to conquer others in order get his point across.

Unawakened people wanted to make him their king in order to have someone take care of them. Sleepy, unscrupulous politicians and agenda-driven religious leaders were trying to use him for their own purposes of keeping power and wealth.

They just couldn't seem to grasp these mentally-confounding new ideas, and ways of being, that this man was not only talking about--but LIVING. And they were scared of him and his ideas. He was blowing huge holes in their belief foundations. So, in their fear, they tried to kill him off...

And yet, HE LIVES!

All of the above is supposition and imagination on my part, and someday, I may look back at this and ask myself, "What were you thinking?!"

But I don't care. I could be TOTALLY WRONG...and it doesn't matter, because I feel good right NOW, inside and out, when I view things this way. I know truth expands, and this just happens to be where I'm perched at this moment...

May you REALIZE the Light of the Christ that is within you, that is you...you precious gift, you!


P.S. If you are like me--yearning and hungering for more about the full life of Yeshua, "Jesus," before and after his physical death--here is the text pdf link to the December 7, 2013, Crimson Circle Shoud where ascended master, Adamus Saint-Germain helped all of us to put together what he called the Yeshua Composite. In short, it's the Yeshua story that joyfully resonated and matched the Christ story within me, and it paralleled my own journey of awakening.

Please note: Adamus is not afraid to provoke a person's anger and shock--and laughter--in order to help one get into FEELING WITHIN, and to step out of an old hypnosis or mindtrap belief. I always watch the video, listen to the audio, and read the text versions at least 3 or more times--because I miss stuff the first couple of times through. While his playing of "The Jesus Game" with us might seem irreverent, his ultimate reason for the game--and getting us to laugh--is the ten-minute message at the end.

I've loved all the Shouds--freely offered every month since 1999--because they encourage me in my INDEPENDENCE and SELF-SOVEREIGNTY and COMPASSION. But this one is probably one of my all-time favorites. May you allow yourself the freedom to feel into it, laugh with us-- celebrate the Yeshua Story--if you so choose, of course.

Also, for links to the FREE audio and video versions of the monthly Shoud, please visit crimsoncircle.com, LIBRARY, The Discovery Series, December 7, 2013 SHOUD.

Trying to Save Face when Personal Shame Haunts

Humans don't need to be told he/she should be ashamed of themselves--we already are--TOO MUCH! We're supposed to be ashamed of our ancestors' deeds (and they--our's) and we're supposed to beat ourselves up for pillaging planet Earth--but does all that guilt heal and solve anything? Let's take a closer look at these shameful aspects and release them so we can NOW create worlds free of so much misery.

"Oh, God--I did it all wrong..."

How do you hold your head up high and look others in the eyes, open and free--after you've immersed so fully into the experiencing of a certain belief that you thought was truth in its utmost form, only to discover things aren't really jiving with what you feel deep within?

God! Do you know how many times I've done this? I have dived into so many things--made them my own, this lady of I'm off on a new tangent today! Only to realize, after having some eye-opening experiences, that the role and the costume just doesn't work for me anymore--that some never really did.

And I look at myself in the mirror, shaking my lowered head, in shame, thinking, "Pen--what the hell were you thinking? How could you? That was SO DAMN STUPID!"

I dived into the conspiracy theories of governments, world banks, despots and religions, scaring the crap out of myself with them.

I quit paying income taxes for a time, and experienced so many self-doubts about whether I was doing it right (used the right words, filled out the right forms correctly), and for all the right reasons (pureness of heart, or personal greed?). I even had a close friend, who had a government job, questioning what I was doing--all the while, still loyally trying to defend me to her co-worker who questioned our sanity.

I put myself through over three years of hell, only to give up after so getting so many harassing and intimidating letters in the mail, and after having so many peers sent to prison. Many of these people were kind and loving people simply trying to stand inside their truth and make changes for the better in their world. They weren't harming anyone else.

It's a challenge though, when the TV is running shows and commercials which hypnotize the masses into believing that refusing to pay taxes, even ones that you don't like and agree with (remember the Boston Tea Party?), is an un-American act. Admittedly, some were zealots (just to be honest here, I played a bit of a zealot at times, too, to my embarrassment)--scary in their passion--but I find that in any general population. Just look at Facebook postings.

I felt powerless, humiliated, stuck, and still enslaved by the system. For years afterward, after having paid the penalties and having returned to the old system I disagreed with--I found myself trying to stuff it all away in an attempt to pretend it never happened. People would bring up the topic of taxes, and I'd feel myself fold up, cringing in shame, tongue-tied--feeling like an idiot.

As I sit writing about this particular, at-one-time shameful period in my past now, though, I understand those of you currently immersed in those experiences and belief systems--and I don't judge you, or condemn you, or even pity you.

I understand the fear for survival that drives one into a dark-feeling corner, where we find ourselves doing really crazy things just trying to get through another moment. I am NOW the poster child for self-forgiveness, and I can laugh at, and celebrate it all.

I NOW have a more fully developed compassion for all of us (than I did before), BECAUSE OF all these past experiences and the feelings I had about me in them. 

And I honor your souls' joy in having the experience, no meddling--because I "KNOW" that, really, everything is all right in, and out of, this glorious and grand illusion.

I also know now, inside of me--in my gut and heart--that proclaiming one's sovereignty doesn't require filling out forms and filing paperwork in courthouses, or for any other entities outside of oneself. It doesn't require fighting anyone or anything.

It's just the realization that I am that I am! Sovereign of my domain. Knowing it, without a doubt, trusting myself in my knowingness. There is no one to convince or persuade to my way of seeing. What anyone else does or what others think of me no longer matters...

But I now know that stuff, because of that naive kid in an adult body, who had the courage to try some experiences others thought to be insane at the time.

I indulged in several inner family feuds that nearly tore me apart--because I loved the parties of both sides. I wrote letters to aunts and uncles, saying things that I still wish I'd never said.

But after all of that, I find I'm no longer quick to choose sides in the relationships of others. In fact, if there is an issue--I'll most likely leave the parties to play out their agreed-to game, and I won't commiserate with either. I no longer tolerate someone playing "I'm the poor victim of so-and-so." If it's in your life, you're liking it--otherwise, you'd choose to release yourself from it.

I didn't let myself enjoy the love of my grandpa, for me, because of holding a grudge from my childhood, after overhearing a heated conversation between him and my dad. No one was going to get away with "not caring about MY DAD!" It was only after Grandpa died, that I was able to step back enough, to see things clearly enough, to realize that love was always there--even between him and his son. Dad didn't need my protection--and those two were actually enjoying their arguments.

All those years lost with my grandpa...

But we made our peace even after he'd been gone awhile. I had a warm and tingling inner-knowingness awareness of various events and conversations that had me finally understanding the dynamics between father and son:

My husband swatted me on the butt as he passed by me in the kitchen, and it reminded me of Mom telling me how Grandpa used to affectionately do the same thing with Grandma Pearl. I recognized the deep love those two had for each other as I sat on my grandpa's lap one morning, following the death of my own beloved Arlen.

I saw how close my dad and his mother were. How she tried so hard to balance out, and temper, the relationship between her husband and son--each of them unaware of his jealousy of the other's relationship with her.

Jealousy is the fear of the loss of love from another. Through my experience, I discovered there is enough love in me, in all of us, that love for one doesn't diminish in any way, our love for another. It's a win-win, if we just trust and let that be so.

I finally allowed myself to feel Grandpa's loving embrace at last--and I'm still feeling that love--of all of them--as I sit here tapping away at this keyboard.

And now, when others talk to me about their frustrations with family--I can empower them in ways I never could before my own experiences--once again, those personally shameful moments were suddenly transformed into gifts.

When I was just a little kid, I tried finding--thankfully, unsuccessfully, because I really detest gore--the grave of a favorite cat who had died. I was curious about seeing what "dead" looked like, evidently, after having been buried. Even as an adult, I've looked back at that one, and thought, "Oh. My. God."

But, when I was about five years old, I used to lay on the couch, peeking out of one eye to watch Dark Shadows, a soap opera in the 1960s. There was always a vampire coming out of a coffin in a tomb at the beginning of the show.

I was also having dreams at that time about losing my parents to death--it was a huge fear.

When you look above at the tabs to navigate this website, you'll see Death with a section of writings devoted to the topic. I'm far from an evil-doer out to slaughter for the adrenaline jolt and the morbidity of it. In fact--I don't like violent movies, and stories filled with extreme perversions and horrors. It's not entertaining for me. I've just needed to understand, and to experience, death differently than it's been done so far--it's a driving passion of mine.

This is why I write the way I do. Trying to save face, when feeling so ashamed, has been a key aspect running my life in the past--and I'm aware of it in pretty much everyone around me.

We humans have spent ages indulging in long-established belief systems in our soul's desire to experience everything, for the joy of the dance, and for the self-expression. It's a void when you realize those things are no longer making much sense. And a person feels really foolish--believe me, I know...

Those of you Christians who still believe that Jesus is your lord and salvation--I get it. I truly do. I know it feels like an abomination to even consider stepping outside that belief. Your whole foundation changes--the bottom of your life seemingly drops from beneath you--and then who, and what, is going to catch you in your free fall?

So I understand your reluctance to look outside of that comfort, and I accept and honor that.

I had, what I consider, the luxury of growing up without being educated and baptized into a religious organization. However, I later tasted, and immersed myself in, enough of the Christian belief system to know how frightening it is to be tempted to look at ideas one's been so ingrained to seeing as being (grimacing appropriately here, as taught), "New Age nonsense."

Here's the kicker though: I don't even consider myself a New-Ager. Definitions and titles don't work for me--they're too limiting. I'm just the simple master of my own life--God/Divinity/My Soul--walking this earth in a human form as me! I am that I am! A one-of-a-kind Body of Consciousness, playing with each of you, also unique Bodies of Consciousness, in this wonderland called Earth.

Take another look at your shameful past. You'll know you've come full circle when you can share  all those old stories, out loud and uninhibited, with the world around you--in celebration and gratitude for all the wisdom that is you...

All of it gained, only because, we courageously played the role of the Prodigal Sons and Daughters...all of it played out of, and for, love...

Related Posts:
Accepting Full Responsibility with Self-Compassion

Guilt--the Elephant in Your Room

Yes, caterpillars seem to wreck things with that insatiable appetite of theirs, but when they're done with that life, they turn into mush and become these amazingly beautiful butterflies. Part of that process seems to involve self-forgiveness for simply having experienced life as a caterpillar...

I was all set to delete this entire blog last fall (2012), and then I had the internal nudging to blog about a childhood experience I'd healed via my inner knowingness.

Several years ago, I was guided to self-compassionately revisit that wounded child's guilty past, and to simply write about it from my adult's more experienced, and much wiser, perspective of it. Then, this past fall, I was urged to make it available to the world--to really bare myself--by sharing links to it through Facebook and Google. Suddenly I had a readership a bit larger than my first four beloved followers. (Click here to see Overcoming the Victimhood Addiction).

Up until that posting, my blog was probably about as obscure and blah as you can get. I was basically writing it all down for me, anyway. I knew nothing about website creation, much less, design. Google provided a basic template that I used for the first three years. Blogger improved. They made it easier for me to write (and edit), and to personalize it with more attractive backgrounds and pictures. Last month I figured out how to use Blogger's features to make my site more easy to navigate, and to publicly share.

Google also has a blogger dashboard where you can see statistics showing the countries of your blog visitors, and how many times, and when, a specific post is visited. A visit doesn't necessarily mean the posts are being read.

As a general rule, I don't care much about statistics, but it is fun to see how easily we can connect with the world via these computers. When someone comments, or I see someone (I can't identify you--your privacy is safe) seems to be browsing around the different posts, it's a boost for me--I catch myself grinning.

The most-read posts are: My Awakening, Overcoming the Victimhood Addiction, An Ah-Ha! about Guilt. Two out of these three posts deal with the issue of guilt. I have two other posts with "guilt" in the titles, and they've been hit on quite often, as well. And a large portion of the rest of my blogs have guilt as a basic ingredient mixed in the stories.

GUILT is probably one of the most commonly shared "I feel so damned stuck" frustrations of all of us humans. Some part in every one of us seems to feel ashamed of being human.

Even victims feel guilt. It's been bigger than the topic of death. But most of us shy away from that death thing, due to our feelings of guilt surrounding it.

Here is one of the biggest guilt trips many of us humans have been on--those of us who've practiced the Christian faith, anyway:

Get Jesus off that cross! Let go of carrying that bag of "I am a sinner" guilt.  You did NOT nail him on, and hoist him up to die, miserably and painfully, on a cross, using a common-at-the-time, barbaric old Roman practice of crucifixion--anymore than I did!

You know what? That is what was going through my heart and mind on the long drive home to be with my dad as he slipped away from my perception in that belief called death. Jesus didn't have to suffer a miserable death. It wasn't necessary at all!

That actually felt really good to finally say out loud. I have felt this way for years. I NEVER could consciously call Jesus/Yeshua my lord and savior--I always stumbled over that. When I conversed with "God," I talked directly to my Father/Mother--I didn't go through Jesus as my translator or my priestly pure go-between. 

I used to think of myself as a Christian--but it doesn't fit me, and I've let the limiting definition go. For years, I wondered what was wrong with me for seemingly thinking so differently from all the Christians around me. I've held this in for so long because I didn't want to offend anyone--I chose to unconditionally honor each person in his own faith, and I still do.

But with the statement up above, I realized honoring also means to lovingly allow myself to state my own honest truth out loud, too.

No one else is required to agree with me--that's free choice. That is sovereignty, pure-hearted love, and compassion.

In an earlier post, One Nation under a "Christian God," or Separation of Church and State, I wrote about ancient pagan traditions, customs and beliefs getting intermixed with newer religions like Christianity. I believe that happened with the newer Christian perception of Jesus being God's son who was sacrificed for our sins. It was a crossover from the old Judaism belief in blood sacrifice. I don't believe Jesus intended to save the world, or even those who believed in him as a savior.

I was always intrigued by the life of Jesus, whose story is alluded to in the Holy Bible translations. The New Testament is supposed to be about him, but it didn't tell me enough about the person, what his life was like as a child, and what happened as he grew up.

This amazing person was made into an idol, an untouchable god--an example of living a life HERE that we had no hope of achieving ourselves. From the very beginning, religion made him different from all the rest of us by his supposedly having been given birth to by the virgin, Mary.

This god-man was way different than the rest of us human slobs and sinners. He supposedly led a perfect human life, had the perfect answer for every question, and performed miracles. He was sacrificed by a god he called Father in order to save all who believed in him forever from their sin of being human, and then he came back to life.

Has anybody else noticed that Christianity, as taught and practiced today--at least in its faiths in my area--doesn't even look at the possibility of living a life on earth, in human form, after our own death?

WHY??? 

Jesus got slapped up on a cross in a gruesome and barbaric manner and has stayed there in the minds of most of humanity's Christians for over 2000 years!

Instead of exploring his message from our hearts, his teachings (those beautiful parables like The Prodigal Son), his example of having a personal relationship with "God/Father"--he's been turned into an untouchable, outside god, that people are supposed to worship, without question.

And somehow be rewarded with an ever-lasting peace in a heaven after earth...while trying SO DAMN HARD (and failing) to be the perfect human NOW...

I never could get the perfect way to be figured out. I've blundered about quite a bit.

I've read other books about Jesus's life (The Urantia Book, The Aquarian Gospel of Jesus the Christ--to name a couple). Some writings said he didn't like the sacrificing of animals as practiced by his family and peers of the Judaism faith. He supposedly traveled and talked with people of various faiths and backgrounds. He experienced the too-soon "accidental" death of his human dad, Joshua. His siblings had trouble understanding him because he had such different ideas.

Adamus Saint-Germain says Yeshua fathered children with Mary Magdalene after he died on the cross. He actually lived a human life after his death! That sounds like an ascended self-master to me.

Adamus also said that Yeshua had a temper, that he wasn't a passive-aggressive, holier-than-thou person, who always turned the other cheek to be slapped again--sometimes he fought back, with fists. How dare he come down off that pedestal that we've had him on!

To consider that Yeshua struggled, too, in this very dense human experience comforts, encourages and uplifts me. And helps a great deal with that thing called guilt...

You don't have to agree with me. I created this website to be a SAFE and SACRED PLACE, first for myself, and then for anyone who visits...

One Nation under a "Christian God," or Separation of Church and State?

Contrary to the beliefs of many of the Christian fundamentalists I interacted with in my "fight those conspiracies" days a couple decades ago, the founders of this nation--the United States of America--were not all Christian. It appears to me, that the founders didn't intend for any one religion--not even one of their own personal choice--to have authority over the people of this country.

I watch the posts forwarded around Facebook, and I see people are still trying to persuade others to join in their personal belief of one nation under a Christian god. It's obvious they haven't re-visited the history of this nation, much less, of this world and the many religions at their deepest foundations. Instead of considering opening themselves to a possibly more personally freeing perspective--they squish their eyes and hearts shut, and run away in fear.

If you dare, take a look at the history of the Old World countries in Europe, Asia, the Middle East, etc. prior to the founding of this freedom experiment in the New World of the Americas.

Britain was bloody with fighting between Protestants and Catholics. Anybody heard of "Bloody Mary"?

Kings beheaded wives on a whim--marriage vows were definitely not sacred and holy. Women had no equal rights--not really even those with the title of queen--and very few women artists were allowed to sign their own masterpieces.

Years before that, Constantine made a political move, to get some sense of order and stability, by combining all the religions together under his one governing authority. He called himself a Christian, yet held onto his pagan worship practices, too. It's why you see pagan ideas and traditions mixed in your religious doctrines and celebrations.

For example, the celebration of Christmas, which takes place now during the old pagan-celebrated winter solstice, is believed by many proclaimed Christians to be the actual birthday of Jesus, but it isn't.

Was Jesus born of a virgin? The virgin birth idea was rampant in ancient forms of worship. Call me a heretic for bluntly asking the question, but, really--does it matter whether Mary had sex, or not? What's pertinent to me, is that she gave birth to this amazing messenger and friend who taught about the Kingdom of Heaven being right here, right now, right "at hand."

Also look a bit more closely at Victorian-era Britain--and you'll see some strong influences in our own western ideas surrounding human sexuality and government and religion. Victorian ideas influenced my 1960's childhood perceptions of my sexuality and sensuality--you weren't supposed to touch yourself (those "nasty" parts), and if you did, it wasn't supposed to be pleasurable.

Sacred scriptures (you know, that "word of God" thing people point out as their Holy Bible) were put together and translated according to the self-interests of the rulers of that specific era and region. Some writings were even eliminated, due to not wanting to give the masses any ideas of self-empowerment and responsibility.

You'll find the people of the old world were over-run by the power by force and money belief systems, by feudal enslavement systems, and by religions and government so intermixed, they were no longer discernible as different entities.

In some cases, religious zealots played the role of puppeteers of the governments of the masses. They provided the wealthy a supposed means of buying their way out of their sins and into the graces of their god, a moral bribe.

In the old world, humanity was so immersed in, and conditioned to, living under the thumbs of outside institutions and belief systems for so many eons, that it was too difficult to even introduce the idea of personal freedom and responsibility to the masses. Much less, live it. It was too volatile and confusingly mired together.

The founders of freedom found a fresh clean slate here, in the form of the Americas. Granted, some of that old world aggression unfortunately forced some terribly atrocious cruelties upon the natives who were here first. I can't change that part of our nation's history, but I can feel gratitude for all those who have gone before me, for allowing me the chance to explore, and begin to truly experience, this amazing thing called self-sovereignty.

My personal belief is that the ETERNAL SPARK of SOURCE--aka "God"--lives and breathes within every single one of us. Who then, needs some outside authority to rule over them?

That sacred, Holy word (expression) of God, is you...and it's me. A priceless gift. Do you really want any other outside being mixed up in the beauty and intimacy of that which is within you, and you alone?

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...