An Ah-Ha! About Guilt

I awaken in the mornings frustrated because I feel anger, sadness, stuck, not present. Waves of melancholy flow through sporadically throughout the day--and it's actually a release when tears manage to flow a bit. For someone who used to cry at the drop of a hat, this emotional dismantling is a bit strange, new.

And I look at Max and I second-guess my choice of trusting that all is well with him—that he doesn’t have to eat in order to be a healthy, abundantly life-filled being. That under the layers of hypnotic overlay, at the core of him lies a perfectly healthy being. I recognize this easily for myself, but it is hard to do the same with my loved ones.

I stop from time to time and just breathe alongside him. I take walks just to breathe and center myself and try to keep from hovering over him, suffocating him with my waffling, self-distrusting ways. He's always better and more present when we just breathe together, and I let go of the story. I released him when he was in the most distressing state, but he's chosen to stay--and we're both walking that journey of what it's like to be alive in this world without having to accept the mass conscious belief that we have to eat in order to be joyfully alive and well. Old habits are hard to chuck aside.

I tell myself I should be living my life with joy and making choices, but instead I find I've been playing a waiting game, still just trying to make it through each moment and this steady bombardment of feelings that's painful and relentless. It's mentally and physically exhausting.

The book by Kate Morton, The House in Riverton, haunts me and I wish I’d never read it because I read to uplift myself. This just left me feeling bereft; and no amount of compassion, justification, and understanding of the characters’ choices at each point along the way that led to such painful, death-filled conclusions, took away the fact that it happened. Guilt permeated the story—it was the foundation of the plot. I couldn’t handle the feelings it evoked in me.

*Note: I need to clarify here that I absolutely love the novels written by Kate Morton. They are epic masterpieces with authentic characters whose stories span continents and time. Her writing touches me like no other--I just feel myself more energetically invested in the stories than is sometimes comfortable for me. And I refuse to analyze it any further. I just highly recommend her work.

Finally, this morning, as I sat with Max sipping my cappuccino, I asked for clarity—and I breathed and got it. I remembered that every book I read carries a personal insight for me in its pages—they’ve always helped me recognize perceptions and aspects of myself that I’m not aware of. It’s that sense of not being able to see the forest for the trees. The universe has been pointing out that particular aspect to me in nearly every moment and interaction in a myriad of forms, but it’s been so long a part of me that I have difficulty separating it out from myself right away in order to see it clearly.  In this case—it was GUILT.

Guilt is responsible for me distrusting my ability to make sound choices. I’m afraid that no matter how benevolent my intentions, someone is going to get hurt because of me. That, in turn, results in my waffling and second-guessing myself—which leads to my stopping of making conscious choices, thus, stagnation of my life, and that awful waiting game, that just getting through life, moment by moment, stuck.

I’ve been trying to mentally handle and control the guilt—telling myself not to feel that way. But that is a load of mental and spiritual bullshit—I can’t control or avoid how I feel, no matter how awful or painful it is. And trying not to be or feel actually intensifies that pain and draws the suffering of it out longer.

I’ve tried to mentally rescript the past, but it doesn’t work that way—I can’t “figure my out” of a painful experience even by trying to put a positive spin on it. I just have to let it be an experience (some which I hate)—to not judge my choices leading to it as bad or good, as mistakes, or wrong or right. It was ultimately just an experience I immersed myself in, which my soul squeezed the wisdom essence from, discarding the pain-filled human details in the process. I’ve just been hanging onto the human details, not realizing they were unnecessary, that they were clogging up the flow of my life.

And all I have to do to release myself from the GUILT thing is simply acknowledge that I'm aware of it: "Hey! Now I see you..." And breathe...No more struggling, trying to figure out what to do with it--struggling entangles me more. Just simply see it and know that all is truly well...

"What does it mean to be truly free?"

This was one of the most important and profound questions I was ever asked. I'm thinking it is so important to our journey in this country which was created out of this tenet, that our schools should ask the question of all our children and adults of all ages (in fact, it would be a great topic of discussion at any gathering), at least once a year or more, so the thought stays uppermost in our consciousness.

I love the first sentence of our Declaration of Independence:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

Note that it does NOT guarantee every single person's happiness (an impossibility), but does recognize everyone's freedom to pursue it however they desire. For myself, I add in the words "and DO NO HARM."

For me, freedom means to accept responsibility for every aspect of my life--past, present and future. 

And that means that I'm not to point my finger at some other person and say, "He's got too much abundance--I could use some of his abundance. Let's make a law and make him share because poor, pitiful me.......or I have this cause.......or these poor, pitiful people need it more than he does......." 

If I choose to help someone out, I choose to do so from my own abundance--I'm not going soliciting, nor is it any business of mine to tell another what to do with his/her flow of abundance.

Nor should I enslave another in order to manifest my abundance. I worked for a family owned business that went corporate, was bought out and merged with successively larger corporations until they had cost-cutting (an abundance of lack of abundance consciousness) down to such an art that they didn't fix our machinery, yet increased our output orders. Then one day, they basically said, "You people aren't working hard enough for the wage we pay you, so we're shipping the entire plant down to Mexico where people are willing to work for less." In all fairness, we'd been working our asses off, looking at their little This company cares about you/OSHA-enforced safety posters, knowing and experiencing that they really didn't give a damn. I'm sorry, people of Mexico--you didn't deserve enslavement either and that's an atrociously horrid representation of what my country stands for. Corporations such as those are NOT my ambassadors.

And by the term, abundance, I don't mean just money. Abundance comes in all forms: health, joyful being, wealth, etc.

I was born into one of the most amazing gifts of our planet--the United States of America. We've been on a journey of exploration of what true freedom means and how to live that to our utmost while living alongside our FELLOW SOVEREIGNS in harmony. Yes, we've had our growing pains, trials along the way, but considering that most humans (myself included) don't really know or can grasp fully what true freedom means and is, well, we're moving through it moment by moment, concept by concept, breath at a time................and I think and, most importantly, feel that we should celebrate and remember that.

It's easy to point out everything that's wrong in the world--it's pretty much a default setting in our mass consciousness. Maybe we should consider shifting perspective and look around and within ourselves with gratitude instead?

This is just a start to what living freely means to me.

Now I pose the question, "What does it mean to be truly free for you, SOVEREIGN?"

Good-bye Conspiracy Theories—Especially, Satan

"Oh where, oh where can my baby be? The Lord took her away from me. She’s gone to Heaven so I’ve got to be good, so I can see my baby when she leaves this world…” (Lyrics to Last Kiss by Wayne Cochran, song remade by Pearl Jam).

I heard this song again for the first time in a number of years, and it kept squeezing my heart and bringing “almost” tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat. Finally I realized it haunted me so because it was making me aware of an aspect of my earlier life that has been running the show, making a foundation for my present daily life, often without me realizing it was here. Only this time I had determined to let it go—to release myself from that old story--so “once-bad, trying to make amends-Penny” was having one final hurrah, taking her bow, arms full of roses as she exited the stage for good.

What does all this have to do with conspiracy theories? My “baby” in the song was Arlen—my first boyfriend who was killed in a motorcycle accident. I had determined that I must have been headed in a wrong direction for God to have to resort to such punishment of me (and this wasn’t something I could articulate out loud to anyone else). I figured I’d royally screwed up so I’d better get myself together and really work at being good in order to make amends—to maybe see Arlen again.

As in the song, I died that night with him, too, and yet I kept waking up to new days, wondering how I was going to get through each one, wondering if I’d ever get it right—never feeling I deserved anything that made me happy. Life went on around me, yet mine seemed futureless and meaningless—I had to give myself a reason and a purpose for being. I had to fight something—it made me feel alive.

Conspiracies surrounding the powerful world money brokers and fighting “The Man” was a natural cause for me—I grew up on those stories from my dad’s travels and experiences. I thought I was honoring my dad by making his causes and beliefs my own. Turns out, honoring another's sovereignty--even a parent's or a child's--does not mean agreeing with them in all things. Nor does it require me repeating their journey at the expense of giving up my own sovereignty and experiential desires. And I thought I was willing to sacrifice myself for a better future for others…but the truth was, and is, I'm tired and bored with that whole self-sacrifice business and philosophy. It isn't what it's cracked up to be. I'm done with martyrdom.

The deeper I plunged into things, the more scared I got, and the more I found myself wanting certain scary people to just die. You know—in all our fairy tales, the villain dies and peace is restored. But death of the villain didn’t seem like a real solution—there always seemed to be another ready to take that person’s place. The stopping of any horrid behavior seemed to need to come from deeper within the hearts of humans—we had to get at the core of why we do such things to one another in order to really bring such atrocities to an end. The execution of Saddam Hussein felt barbaric to me—I mourned that humanity still saw killing anyone as justice truly served.

I also squirmed at the fanatical gleam I saw in other’s eyes (who were on the same side as me) when talking of fighting evil. I was afraid of seeing that same gleam in the mirror. It was just as frightening (and probably more so to see it in myself) as the perceived villains in our conspiracy stories.

That was my wake-up call to questioning the accepted truths of everyone outside of myself and to let go of trying to be a part of some sort of organization. I knew that if change was going to come to my world, that it all started right here, inside of me—otherwise I was just reacting to life (mostly out of fear) and not living it. 

The pinnacle of all of this was the three days I pretty much laid in bed bawling non-stop, hopeless for the future of humanity after seeing a film on government officials supposedly using kidnapped children as sex slaves and then filming it all. Though I had no kids of my own, I was an aunt several times over, and the thought of anyone doing such things to little kids devastated me to the core.

This personal terror and powerlessness was further exacerbated by my acceptance of the Christian fundamentalist belief in Armageddon and hell as a possible destination. Eternal hell never really did ring true to my personal perception of God as a loving father/mother but I dabbled with it because it was a pretty popular belief in those days and I was feeling like the lowest of the low at that time. I was also working a warehouse job where I felt like a robot just going through the motions--not being creative (potentially, I knew there was more to me) or really enjoying life—I had given up.

I started talking and listening to God my own way. I read the Bible (learned to use concordances to find the original meaning of key words translated from their original Aramaic, Hebrew and Greek to English), but I stayed away from participating in Bible study groups. The Bible itself said not to study the literal word, not to listen to outside teachers, but to study one’s own heart. Some of the passages wouldn’t make much sense to me at the time of reading, but I walked alone a lot in those days, and as I walked I’d, out-of-the-blue, suddenly get a warm, comforting tingle and clear, personally-applicable understandings of passages that had stymied me before.

There were a lot of “shoulds” and “should nots” according to religious scholars and practitioners, and at times I would feel overwhelmed with confusion as to the right and wrong way—and every now and then I’d find myself doing the Am I Crazy? check. But I’d look back, and realize that I was more at peace within myself compared to where I was in the past, and there was no going back to that, or I’d be dead. So onward I went.

I loved what Jesus had to say and determined to sincerely learn to “love my perceived enemies” and to “not judge.” His parable about the prodigal son was my favorite and most encouraging story for me. The Old Testament Book of Job also intrigued me—isn’t it funny that a whole story was written about what "a job" (though the two spellings are pronounced differently) we can make our lives to be?

It occurred to me just a few days ago that one of the most seductive conspiracy theories in our world (especially inside of me) has been the war/struggle between what we perceive as Good and Evil/Satan/The Devil. In fact, it was the perceived evil inside of me that scared me the most of all—and that aspect has had me doing all sorts of cruel things to myself in my mental efforts of trying to handle it. It also had me feeling alive at times, too—I see that fanatical gleam in the eyes of those I talk with who are still fighting Satan. Drama—it was a challenging addiction to walk away from, but I’m finally bored and exhausted with it, which makes it easy to leave now.

The wonderful thing is that the more I’ve become aware of myself—what I’m thinking, really feeling in the moment—the more benevolent a person I am. I am way less likely to harm anyone now than I was when I was feeling cornered and scared to the core of me.

It also occurred to me that Satan wasn’t a being—Satan was a curtain, a piece of drapery I call the Veil of Forgetfulness. I forgot who I was—that I was a child of God/Source of All, and thus, a highly creative body of consciousness in my own right.

Just for fun, insert “The Veil of Forgetfulness” in place of the word “Satan/The Deceiver” in the Book of Job. It becomes simply the story of a guy who forgot who he was--but he finally remembered in the end, before he physically died. Because of the experiences and wisdom gained from that journey—everything he had seemingly lost in the beginning (his family, his health, his abundance, and his joy in being) was restored, but now it was in an even grander, richer state than it could ever have been before. Because of the experience--the positive and negative, the light and the dark dancing, entwining, separating, and whirling and twirling, all together--the colors got richer, more vibrant, more real.

When the Divine Masculine with the Divine Feminine are set free and allowed to naturally flow into their own state of balancing each other, while alive as a human being--a brand new world, and game, comes into being.

When the Masculine and the Feminine become full and equal partners in the dance of life, along with their respective counterparts--Passion with Compassion, FREE CHOICE with ALLOWANCE of all ways of being--when they dance together, unhindered by a blind and scared, limited human mind, magic happens.

And if you consider the possibility that God sent his “Prodigal Son” to Earth simply to experience stuff and gain wisdom, only to have that son forget who he was and immerse himself in purely separate and all-alone-feeling human pursuits, you’ll get a deep appreciation of why The Father greeted his return with a feast of all feasts instead of “I told you so…”

I had this bolt of fabric dropped over me, enveloping me so I couldn’t see properly—everything was distorted and constricting. It felt like a prison cell. It was dark in there—so dark I couldn’t see any part of myself clearly, and I felt terrified and very much all alone—striking out at anything that moved (which was usually one of my own limbs) in a protective effort to simply survive. My protective shields were up, my energies were balled up like a porcupine on the defensive and offensive--so the unconditionally loving Universe matched my radiation, ray for ray--and I was blessed with a literal hell of a fight to survive at times. This amnesiac’s game of Blind Man’s Bluff was not always an enjoyable game for this human being either—it was hell on earth in its worst moments, albeit, it was mixed with some wonderful and joyful moments, too. But I’m done playing that particular game--I'm actually bored with it.

Arlen didn't die because I was bad and needed chastisement or punishment by some god out there. It was an experience I funneled myself into (more on a soul level than a human level) in order to shake myself awake out of this dense old, extremely linear and limited, consciousness reality--to get me questioning whether it was fully true, to get my human self to open up to being able to conceive of greater possibilities. That there maybe was something more to this life experience than growing up, getting a boring job, having a family, dealing with dramas and traumas, paying bills and taxes--fighting to survive--then dying.

In the midst of all of that experience, I realized one thing: No matter what happens, I EXIST...I exist...I exist...I am that I am!...and no one can take that away from me, even if my human body should die.

I’m ready for something more enjoyable, easier, less serious. I'm dropping my weapons and my protective armor--and I'm still here. I still exist...

Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor (brain-researcher and author of My Stroke of Insight) told of her experience of a stroke in the left hemisphere of her brain. The left side is very logical and literal—it’s the part that says, “I am a separate being.” The creative, intuitive right hemisphere says, “I am connected to and am a part of all that is.” With the loss of the function of her left brain, her arm blended into the wall she leaned against—there was no perceivable line of separation between her body and everything else. Rather than just blending into our surrounding surroundings, being able to perceive oneself as a separate entity, while still knowing we’re connected, has its joys and advantages.

The Veil of Forgetfulness is actually the physical separation of the two hemispheres of the human brain. We’ve been predominantly left-brained—mental--in mass consciousness, thus our feeling all alone and separate. But the right brain is our connection to God/Our Divinity/All that Is, and we’re coming to the place where the two hemispheres function fully as a united team here on Earth, creating from a vantage point of full awareness of who we are…

Satan, perceived by me as a simple curtain, just lost its power over, and in, my body of consciousness…I am a gift to me, in this body—and I am choosing to live it as such….

Related Posts:
Trying to Save Face when Personal Shame Haunts
Conspiracies and Fear
"One Nation under a Christian God" OR Separation of Church and State?

We're ALL World-Changing Contributors

Last night Kel told me the repeat of an old story of his with different characters than the last time. A co-worker shared with him a video of his 20-year-old nephew pretty much making a guitar sing. Kel’s typical response (and I’m choosing to be hard on him to show him how hard he is on himself) was to tell me, “It made me want to give up my own music and just call it quits…That’s it…What am I trying to do?…I’m done.”

Yes, I see around me more and more genius savants, more heart-centered, creative, and talented young people than ever before. And, yes, at one time, I was comparing myself with them and making the same statements (mainly to myself about myself) as Kelly did above.

But as I told Kelly last night, these kids are growing up in a world of artistic opportunity and access, via the worldwide web, that we never had. And the consciousness of the era in which we grew up (1960s to 1990s) made severe cuts in the arts and focused solely on mental intelligence—a huge creativity stagnator (spell check tells me I invented a new word here), if there ever was one.

Art and music were considered nice little “hobbies” that only a few could “make a living at.” And often that was done by making sacrifices in other areas of personal well being. Starving artists in all areas of the arts often became most famous after they died. Unless, of course, they were dramatically strange during their lifetimes and people were fascinated by their insane-looking antics. Humans love their drama.

Most importantly, though, I realized that all these creatively wonderful young people coming into this grand world of ours are here because WE (and our parents and grandparents, etc) started opening doors of conscious awareness that made it possible for them to be born, and to even thrive here today. WE opened the proverbial box and initiated the changing of this world.

And while the change is admittedly a wild and chaotic ride—I wouldn’t miss it for anything. We’re bringing forth amazing new potentials never conceived of before.

We have a great deal to celebrate, fellow lighthouses.

And the greatest gift we can give to our loved ones is to embrace, and live joyfully, self-compassionately and self-encouragingly our own individual lives at every age.

People who think sacrificing their own happiness for their kid is doing the child a favor are missing the point. What child wants all that pressure and heartache to bear? Mommy and Daddy are miserable so I can be happy...Hmmmmm. Wouldn’t you rather Dad and Mom got up each morning excited about sharing with you their personal delight for the possibilities of each loved one’s day, in place of comments about “making a living” at jobs they just feel miserable at day after day after day?

Every single one of us is a LIGHTHOUSE in our own unique way—and age doesn’t matter. That old adage of “not being able to teach an old dog new tricks” is B.S. as far as I’m concerned. Old dogs just need to get rid of the “old” misnomer first and then open up their limited box of life and feel into what might actually be possible for them.

We have gifts and talents, as individuals, that we’ve yet to tap into, and I'm certain NOW is the time to start experiencing them. Nobody wants to hear about the disadvantages and hardships we had growing up. Moreover, using those as excuses for not grabbing our own brass rings and living one's own wildly abundant life seems pretty idiotic to me.

I used to have a hissy fit (frown,sweat profusely and get confoundedly mute) anytime someone asked me, "So--what do you do?" Recently, my answer came to me: "Why--I'M LIVING MY LIFE!" That pretty much leaves me a wide-open field of possibilities. Granted, I have days where I feel frustrated, because this, for me, is a new way of approaching my life. Some days the old crap feels neck deep, but inside here is a tingling of knowingness that I'm making it happen, regardless of how slow it seems to manifest. I trust that manifestation part will get quicker, too, with experience and practice. These amazing young people give me that hope.

We can do, and be, anything we desire, but we have to really get quiet and spend some time alone with ourselves in order to feel that. If you’re “too busy” to take some time for you with you, you’re being lazy. Take a few conscious breaths and realize the gift that you are to yourself. Let the joy of that dance inside you first, and just maybe the rest will find its way into your life. For me, it’s worth a celebration and a shot…

Mental Breakdowns are TEMPORARY

I've had a tremendous Ah-ha! just recently, regarding friends of mine who have been diagnosed with mental illness/imbalances. You could say they've all inspired me to dig deeper because of the hopelessness of what was considered "permanent." I hated those diagnoses and it hurt seeing these vibrant creative beings--some of whom I grew up with, another that I dated who treated me like a princess--get stigmatized and so medicated that I watched that life spark disappear from their eyes.

The KEY in all of this is to look at the breakdowns as a TEMPORARY state of being--a means to an end, that with greater awareness of what is happening need not be so traumatically cataclysmic for all those affected.

This doesn't involve pointing fingers of blame at anyone in the psychological or psychiatry field--these fields have been handicapped from the beginning by focusing solely on the mental and emotional and physical--missing the importance of one's SOUL. People were placed on medications and in institutions because of fear, and because no one understood human consciousness and the power of the belief systems in which we indulge. And ultimately, everyone was doing the best he/she knew how in the context of those times.

What I see now, is that my beloved friends were going through a traumatic crisis event meant to AWAKEN THEMSELVES TO THEIR SOULS--to a more self-aware consciousness of their being. If we're enjoying life, we don't question and seek anything greater--but pain will often motivate us to start asking questions, and to discover so much more about ourselves than we ever contemplated before.

The only thing is, that in walking through their dark night of the soul tunnel (which involves a breakdown of the mind patterns and old obsolete belief systems), my friends were halted MIDWAY in their tunnel--simply because no one understood how to create a SAFE and SACRED SPACE in which to ALLOW them to continue the breakdown in order to MAKE ROOM FOR THE NEW.

God gave us bodies, minds and souls that NATURALLY HEAL and BALANCE THEMSELVES-- we need to SIMPLY CHOOSE to step out of our mind traps/belief systems and SIMPLY ALLOW that to happen. I've attached a summary of the tools I personally used over and over again to get through my own dark tunnels--one which I posted about in Overcoming the Victimhood Addiction.

ONE KEY POINT: Many individuals who were diagnosed with mental disorders have been on chemistry and mood-altering medications for years. Those anti-depressants, etc. flat-line emotional feeling. Numbs everything down—and one of the key ways of moving through these dark moments is by ALLOWING and BECOMING AWARE of YOUR THOUGHTS and FEELINGS in the moment.

*I DO NOT recommend anyone dropping use of the medications all at once or by yourself—it’ll torpedo the individual into a possible, life-threatening suicidal depression. Make sure you have whoever prescribed them to you (or a facilitator who is fully aware of the drug's effects) help you self-compassionately, gradually wean off them.* 

First, contemplate that the diagnosed “disorder” is just a temporary condition and get some sense of your own inner-knowingness and ability to move through things, and then work with your therapists or facilitators from that place of inner clarity to help move out of the old story and treatments. 

Each person has his/her own answers--feel into, and think about this, for a moment with your eyes closed. None of us can possibly express to another outside of us all the unique impressions, perceptions, beliefs, inner reactions and experiences of oneself. You and Your Soul/Divinity, alone, hold all your answers.

AWAKENING does involve going through a depression—it’s like being dangled over a dark void—until you find your way inside of you to the heart of matters, and the discovery that God/Source of All is within you, and has been all along.  No matter how dark it's seemingly been, we’ve never truly been alone.

Moving Through A Mental Breakdown, aka, A Dark Night of the Soul:


1. A Trigger Event sets off the crumbling of a person’s Belief System Foundation due to a deeply suppressed trauma/personal shame bursting to the forefront of the person’s awareness.

These events can go back as far as childhood--sometimes, even a different lifetime--or may be as recent as the previous breath. Our minds try to handle the situation by trying to run from them (by frantically racing and keeping busy), by trying to ignore them or pretend they never happened, or by trying to use substances or actions to squelch them. Suddenly the trigger event catapults the person into overwhelm—mental and emotional breakdown.

If these wounds are surfacing, it’s because the person has opened themselves to a higher consciousness perspective of the event that they can use as a TOOL to get themselves through the dark tunnel and into a place of true healing. Each person truly has His/Her OWN ANSWER.

2. Get yourself into a SAFE and SACRED SPACE, and set yourself firmly with the intention to DO NO HARM to oneself or another.

THIS IS A TIME TO BE ALONE WITH YOURSELF and to allow yourself to become AWARE of how you talk with yourself and how you FEEL.

Close your eyes and breathe deeply into your belly and allow yourself to revisit and observe, and feel into yourself in the event. There will be tears and physical pains as things loosen up and began moving again. Just gently breathe through them...breath at a time, breath at a time...

You're okay--it's just a memory--an illusion...

In this space you can HONESTLY and SELF-COMPASSIONATELY think and feel everything without judgment as to whether anything was wrong or right. That which is allowed to be felt and thought will simply move through without manifesting. You can even say things out loud like the word “fuck.” Feelings and thoughts don’t hurt anyone when we allow them in a SAFE SPACE. Trying to avoid or ignore them will cause them to manifest as quickly as consciously choosing them—because your attention has focused on them.

Remember the Consciousness CONTEXT of the time of the event—what you believed about yourself and your world at the time. Ultimately, YOU’VE NEVER DONE ANYTHING WRONG!!! Everyone is being and doing the best he knows how in any given moment. NO MORE beating up oneself or blaming others.

"I ACCEPT FULL RESPONSIBILITY for EVERY MOMENT OF MY LIFE"—and that means first being compassionate with, all-accepting of every single moment and aspect OF YOU!!! Anchor this in your reality by writing this in your own handwriting—it’s an empowering expression of you.

Love yourself like the Source of All and YOUR SOUL loves you—UNCONDITIONALLY!!!

“I PURPOSELY put myself through these painful events in order to SHAKE MYSELF AWAKE so I would start asking myself deep questions and ultimately discover the joy of living a life THAT I CONSCIOUSLY CREATE!!!”

3. “Bring that which is hidden into the LIGHT.”

DON’T HIDE FROM YOURSELF or YOUR DIVINITY or SOURCE.

God/My Inner Knowingness to Me: “When you’re feeling as though you’re doing something SHAMEFUL—don't hide from me! Put ME THERE WITH YOU in that moment. View the whole scene from my greater perspective.” 

Enlightened, Self-aware Beings NATURALLY Do No Harm--not even in an illusion--because you know feeding off the energy of others just brings you more misery.

Tell one or more “safe” people your secret—a therapist is great for this due to confidentiality laws. By expressing it out loud and honestly to another, it brings the skeleton out of the closet, and by doing so, removes its power over oneself.

DO NOT NAME NAMES or POINT FINGERS of BLAME at another. No one can REALLY steal one's power away unless all parties have consented to act out the dramatic/traumatic scene together. This is the beauty of the life as a human on earth that we’ve been given. Our consciousness is eternal, but the roles and acts we play out together—EXPERIENCES—are temporary illusions. God/Source gave us—HIS/HER CHILDREN a SAFE PLAYGROUND to play together in.


4. Thank yourself for everything.... 

If you’ve only gotten to the place of self-forgiveness (realizing you were simply deep asleep and unaware of who you really are), your journey isn’t quite completed. All that experience made you MORE than you were before. YOU ARE A GIFT, and ALWAYS HAVE BEEN--especially to your SOUL.

Hopefully, when you're done you'll realize as I have--it all ends up being about experiencing with love and gratitude for ALL...

"I AM that I AM!" Breath at a time...Breath at a time...

It All Took A Courageous Human

It’s been gradually coming into my awareness that Human Penny has still had quite a few protective guards up and monitoring disciplines in place. I remind her over and over again that everything is okay, she did nothing wrong ever, and even when she’s scared, that she just needs to breathe and to trust herself that it will all be all right—“Just let the guards and self-monitors go, Hon.”

Sometimes I’d get exasperated with her moments of what my Human Mind considers her human weaknesses and flaws. I ask myself, “Is there an ending to this in the near future? It’s been a long, hard haul (and that’s putting it lightly).” It’s actually been a passage through hell and high water—all the while being handicapped further by a severe case of amnesia.

I keep telling myself, None of it really matters, there’s nothing you have to do or prove, no one who needs saving. You don’t need to figure out a purpose for simply being alive—whatever you choose to do, or be, doesn’t have to have any deeper meaning to it other than you’re exploring it for the fun of it—just because.

Years ago, back in the early days of hearing that voice of God within myself, I was having trouble with a lot of guilt and shame in myriad aspects of my life—some of it surrounding sex and sensuality, most of it basically having to do with a simple human pleasure of any kind.

The inner voice that told me I was going to have to learn to unconditionally love myself first before I was going to be able to do it with anyone else, is the same one that said, “Penny—in those moments when you’re feeling or thinking or doing something you’re ashamed of—Put Me There! Don’t hide yourself away from me in your shame. Put Me there with you."

Of all the things! Like I needed an AUDIENCE! But Human Me courageously took the leap and tried it out--and discovered that it lightened the load I was carrying. I discovered it was more fun when I allowed myself to enjoy myself without so much guilt plastered to every little bit of pleasure in life. From then on it was pretty much, “Okay, God, here I am in my bare-nakedness. I’m done playing Hide and Seek with you. Now what?”

Jesus reminded me, “Love your enemies.” I’ve come to define an enemy as being someone or something that I’m struggling with—trying to overcome. Thus my greatest enemy has been myself—my Human Mind/Ego. Out of fear and frustration and in blindness, I once thought I had to kill her off or force her into her proper place. I’ve discovered the only way to come to terms with her is to go back through all my moments with her and unconditionally love her by appreciating that Human Mind and Being who struggled so long and so hard to get Me here.

I have gums pushed so far back from overbrushing that my teeth are sensitive. I have a scar on my right cheek from overdoing it with a zit treatment back in high school. I had a severely disfigured shoulder and spine from hauling a bookbag filled with large textbooks around all throughout my schooling career. My Human Mind was doing everything she knew how to keep me healthy, perfect, alive and accepted--and she even used guilt and shame to keep me getting up in the mornings when I'd all but given up.

Back in those days, I didn't have the understandings and insights that I carry with me now. Back then I didn't even know how to simply breathe and I certainly didn't trust myself. I used to be so rigid, so pulled in, so scared, and so worthless feeling, so powerless in even my own life. I can still feel, in memory, what that was like.

And just yesterday, I was feeling ashamed of what I did to my teeth and gums and cheek--berating my Human Mind for "going overboard" in the judgments of myself. But in the beginning of all of this, my Human was all I knew I had available.

Throughout all these years of trying to stay connected to the God Within Me—to bring that part out and into the forefront of this human experience, I forgot for a bit that the only reason I AM present NOW is because a COURAGEOUS, FRIGHTENED, ALL-ALONE FEELING HUMAN relentlessly, lovingly kept knocking on doors, inviting God in and out to play with her.

I’ve heard that God/Our Divinity will never force itself on us—it waits compassionately for us to knock on the door or invite it in and then once we make that first move it reaches in and pulls us through.

This final chapter is in loving honor of Human Me—the one banging on the doors, the walls, the ceilings, the floors, the limits…I’m proud of you in all your ways along the way…YOU DID IT!!!

And don't worry anymore about the gums, the cheek or any of that other stuff--it's all okay--REALLY, there's not anything wrong with any part of me. Trust me, we'll see this is so.

It's time, Penny--LET'S DANCE!!!

My Awakening

I was driving home from the grocery store a couple of weeks ago when it struck me that Home/Heaven for me was here on Earth—that to return to where I originated from would seem empty and colorless. I gazed around me, remembering how amazing it is to be able to touch and to feel and to behold all that I love—that even the searing pain of losing a loved one was worth it all.

I recognized the truth for me of that old adage: It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. While I know love is always present, regardless of the realm, it’s in this physical body that I get to witness and experience it in action. I have a sense of that being priceless.

That was a huge shift in perspective for me—especially having so recently lost someone so precious to me yet once again.

This time I’ve decided to walk through this whole loss to death thing in a new way. I’ve realized that the old platitudes and approaches aren’t enough for me. I don’t give a crap about the four steps of the grieving process, and I’m sick of believing it all as unchangeable just because of millennia of unquestioning acceptance that “that is the way it is.”

I’ve heard others say over and over again that they can’t wait to die in order to be reunited with their dead loved ones. But that’s not making sense to me. If I’m looking forward to getting this life over with, then am I truly enjoying and living the life--the gift of experience--that I have right now?

After losing enough people in my life to make it easy for me to let go and die myself, there’s something strange going on—I’m still here, and I’m not suicidal.

And I remember the story of Job in the Old Testament—the man lost everyone and everything dear to him to the point that this God-favored man got outright angry with God, with his circumstances. Platitudes and mental rationing (why and how this could happen to him, what he “needed to fix” about himself, how “he should be”, even sympathy) didn’t mean squat to him—none of the old ways and perspectives mattered to him. He got authentic and honest with himself—let his perception of the moral rightness and wrongness of everything go. And in the end, he lived--and what he’d initially lost was restored, but way better than what he had before he lost it all--because his experiences enriched all of what was once just airy, insubstantial concept. That story encourages me to awaken each morning with hope.

And then there’s Jesus. He died and yet he lived—and he also said that those who came after him would do “all these things and more.” So I’m standing here, hopping up and down, my arms waving wildly, yelling, “Pick me! Pick me!”

And then it occurs to me that really I’m the ONLY ONE who can pick me for the job. And so I have.

In Ecclesiastes, the poet came to the conclusion that there was a time for everything under the sun. In other words—my own words—every way IS a WAY TO BE. Each form of love in action provides us with insights and understandings inconceivable in any other way.

I believe these stories of life after a physical death stay in our world for thousands of years just maybe because there is a truth in them. And frankly, I’ve got nothing to lose in exploring their possibility of being a reality today—for me, they represent hope for my own enjoyment of this life, to create and to be my own unique Heaven on Earth.

I’m not willing to just get through another day without being able to connect with Molly. That death wound for the Little Human never truly heals with just the passage of time—the emptiness ache is still there, and sometimes it’s knife-sharp pain.

I still talk to my parents and to Arlen. My relationship with each of them has continued to evolve and expand just as much as it has with those around me who are alive.

In the past twenty plus years, I’ve had all kinds of dreams of interacting with those who have crossed the Veil. But during the dreams my heartache was horrendous because my mind would get in the way and remind me that they were “really dead and that I had to accept and get used to that.”

So instead of enjoying the moments I had with them, regardless of the dimension I was in, I was miserable at the prospect of knowing they would be gone soon. And I’d awaken to this world in a state of deep sadness. I hated those mornings after—despair hung around me like a cloud.

When I remember the look in Molly’s eyes that last day with her and the many things she communicated to me intuitively and physically, I KNOW that despair is NOT what she wanted for me. She wasn’t dying in order to hurt me beyond being able to breathe again—she was reaching out, touching me, showing me moment by moment how much she enjoyed her life with me and how much she loved me. And it seemed important to her that I recognize that she was choosing that path in order to help me go beyond—to help me transcend death.

Molly and Max came into my life when I first began to make choices to live my life my own way—and they have played supportive roles through this whole process I look at as being my awakening to remembering who I really am.

The roles I’ve acted out and felt stuck in for so long are just dramatic scripts that I’ve immersed myself in for awhile in order to understand the energies and concepts we think of as LIFE. But ultimately, they were all just roles; no one acting part was completely reflective of all that I am.

And my two precious furry friends continue to support me—Molly on one side of the Veil of Forgetting, and her brother Max with me on this side. I’ve seen her twice in dreams—and she’s very much alive and well. Max leaves wet food in the dish for her to clean up each morning like he always did when she was alive.

The only time he didn’t leave food for her was the last day she was alive. She could only lick up and swallow the gravy, so he’d come by afterwards and clean out the drier remains left in their bowl--this was completely opposite of their usual way of eating together. When she was gone, he then reverted back to leaving a bit in the bowl for her.

Max also seems to allow her to use his body as a way to touch me—he’s done “Molly acts.” One night he lay next to me on the couch with his paws draped over my legs like Molly used to. And he now sits on Kel’s lap in the evenings like his sister used to, but only after looking me in the eyes to make sure I know that he’s sharing himself with both of us.

In moments, my heart still hurts with her not being here teasing me, scratching on my calf for butter or traipsing towards me with that smile—whiskers on a lady never looked more darling. And I’m not always certain which aspect of myself is running this particular show. Sometimes I wonder about letting myself wail out my grief like the gypsies and just immersing myself in feeling it all until the emotions are spent. Would it somehow release me? I’ve moved a great deal of pain through and out of myself that way in the recent past.

And sometimes I wonder if maybe I should just stay calm and watchful and keep my drama queen in check. Always I’m reminding myself, Molly’s right here—she never really did die—this is all just illusion, after all. And if that’s so, then HOW DO I want to walk this journey between her seeming to leave and her being here?

I see how Max allows himself to continue to enjoy his days on Earth and he works to make us laugh, too. I talk to Molly and tell her I’m watching for her—that I’m open to all of us being together again soon—and I’ve no idea how that looks. But I choose to explore the possibility that I don’t have to die in order to be reunited with her. I’ve got nothing to lose—I don’t care if I look foolish, and I don’t care about having a reputation.

And I hope it’s here—that Heaven is here on Earth wherever I am, for me…and wherever you are, for you…

Because when this is all said and done, it's truly been an honor...