I see my life, my body, my mind, my spirit--All That I Am--as complete and naturally self-sufficient, self-balancing, and self-rejuvenating. I always felt that The Eternal One placed everything I needed to exist, and to have abundant happiness, right here inside of me--that I didn't need to worship any deities, enter any specific place or building, purchase any healing tools or do anything in a disciplined way. I just had to remember how to tap into ALL THAT I AM.
This is why I seldom sought out medical or professional services in the last couple of decades when it came to my health. It was too easy to get caught up in a diagnosis story and never get out of that self-made prison. I observed others, as well as myself, playing out our diagnoses--even enjoying it because of the attention it got us from others--though we don't like to admit that, do we? I admit, sometimes I've felt so overlooked by others around me that I've tried out the I'm sick and dying over here--do you care about me now? path, too. It worked for a moment, and then I was left feeling hungry again--kind of like a drug addict, I suppose.
The first times that I had the physical symptoms hit, I was so new to all these concepts of true self-responsibility that I got really scared, wondered if it was going to be my last breath on Earth, wondering what I did wrong. Being scared tightened up already rigidly tense/long-stuck energies in my body and made the symptoms even more painful.
The Universe gave me teachers in the form of insights and people and I was reminded to just breathe into the pain. I literally talked myself through pain of all kinds:
Just breathe, Pen. Close your eyes and follow the pain to its source and center. You're okay. We're okay. Just breathe, honey. You didn't do anything wrong--you just have some old stuff coming loose to be released from your life. Setting a broken leg hurts, doesn't it? You're healing--it's going to hurt a bit, but you need not suffer with pain for so long anymore. It's okay to cry--tears flush out toxins. It's okay to even scream and yell to help your voice loosen and speak your truth, no matter if you're rejected for it or not. You're just shifting. You're transforming from a caterpillar to a butterfly--they don't even resemble each other, do they. That's how big this shift is. Just breathe...I'm so glad you're here. This is amazing--you're so much more than you ever humanly believed, and the beauty of you is that you see that in everyone and everything...........keep breathing, Honey--we don't want to miss out on this...........
I've been mentally reviewing the last decade. If I had sought medical attention for every symptom I experienced I would have been labeled a hypochondriac and probably mentally off-my-rocker crazy. I truly had no safe place to go for help except inside myself.
I still have moments of exhaustion where I can't function mentally or physically until I've gotten horizontal and closed my eyes--sometimes it's only a few minutes, sometimes I'm out for 2-3 hours, and sometimes I'm not feeling completely embodied until long after I wake up. Usually this happens when I have a profound, life-changing insight surfacing so I allow myself to do so without judgment about my "being lazy." Early on, I used to feel so frustrated with this because I was afraid that I was letting life pass me by with all that napping--but I was helpfully reminded that the understandings I was gaining were less likely to blow my mind and body circuitry by resting them and allowing the insights to flow in more freely. I had to break through layer upon layer of mental belief systems. And this was the most gentle and easy pathway through.
I had erratic heart rhythms, sometimes sharp pains that took my breath momentarily away. I did whatever struck me to do in the moment. I was constantly reassuring myself that I was okay, that it was just shifting.
I have to say, I'm not afraid of dying (haven't been that way for a long time) and I have a strong sense that I have a choice as to whether or not I live or die, moment by moment--so I know that has a tremendous influence on my perception of these symptoms. If you're afraid of death--study it. Look for ideas that resonate with you, that bring you peace and comfort. Because we all die, don't we....And it's the loved ones we leave behind who suffer the most. But that's a whole blog in itself.
Another one is stomach bloating. I've learned to not eat foods or even take medicines that don't feel appealing to eat or ingest in the moment at hand. I quit popcorn for a whole year, and then suddenly started enjoying it again, though now, I only like the smaller, white kernels--because they have a nuttier flavor. I never did like microwave stuff and that has stayed the same. Food preferences change constantly and I've found I don't follow any dietary rules anymore--I follow my body's cravings and how it feels afterwards, and I've gotten more present while I eat (used to just cram stuff down without really tasting it because I believed I needed to eat to stay alive). I eat chocolate and I eat sweets, but I have noticed that I enjoy plain unadulterated fresh fruit more than processed sweets and baked goods anymore. I also don't seem to eat as much, though I can still pack away the French Fries. When in doubt, I remind myself to quit doubting myself.......and enjoy the frickin' food! When I bloat up, I get a hot pad, sometimes down a couple tablespoons of blackberry brandy--that's my personal remedy, and it may not work for anyone else.
Dizziness and mental fogginess are also quite common symptoms. I have a tendency to faint or pass out from stomach cramps, so after a few episodes of coming to on the floor with bruises and cuts, I've learned to stay low and move slowly when I'm feeling the least bit light-headed or dizzy. Sitting on a chair with my head on the table IS NOT low enough either, FYI--get your head down below your knee level right away. I still feel a bit on the dizzy side again lately, but it's nowhere near as bad as it used to be years ago. I just move with care and more slowly, making sure my feet are planted on the steps and that I'm using the handrail.
Head and ear pain--sometimes sharp, sometimes a general area throbbing that's difficult to narrow down, sinus congestion, blurry vision--these all come and go. Most of this I use whatever intuitively hits me to do in the moment, and most often that is simply giving myself permission to lie down and rest until it passes. I see all pain as temporary and the easier I make it for myself to move it through, the quicker it will pass. Humans have a tendency to medicate to mask the pain a bit so they can keep moving and being busy. Trying to force my body to keep running often catapulted me into more painful, longer-lasting symptoms. It got to be so that I didn't care whether others thought me lazy or low in pain tolerance. I gradually started embracing my body and started having a relationship with it once again--and that has been more rewarding than someone patting me on my back for my self-sacrificial work ethic.
The symptom that has probably kept me awake at night the most is the joint pain. For awhile, aspirin, Tylenol and Aleve helped--and I've used even those things very sparingly over the years. I have had a prescription for muscle relaxers a couple times, but I don't like how they make me feel, so I only used them a handful of times in extreme moments. In the past year, the medications don't do anything anymore. I wake up a couple times or more in the night (sometimes having to grab the headboard frame in order to lever myself up from the bed), I always use the bathroom (its an energy release), sometimes stretch or walk to the other end of the house (my cats like me escorting them down to their food dishes in the wee hours--smiling), have my husband deeply massage a specific area if it's really bad. Nice warm baths and warm soft cotton, body-encasing pajamas feel really good.
Another symptom is the lump-in-the-throat sensation, accompanied by coughing fits. I used to get this all the time when I had old life-story wounds coming to the surface of my awareness and I needed to allow myself to let them be expressed. I always used to experience the lumps when I returned home to my family, which used to astound me, because I really like my biological family. But then I realized that my identity has been established the longest with my family and that a rejection by any one of them was probably going to be the most painful rejection of all. While I was apart from my family, I had more profound insights in myself. Then I'd go home and automatically fall into my old established role has the youngest sister and the 2nd-to-youngest sibling--the one who wanted to please everyone. And the one who made all the truths of those around her, whom she loved so much, her own--without question as to whether those accepted suggestions really resonated within her.
I had to disconnect from my family members for a bit so I could see them more clearly, as well as myself. It was worth the time apart--there is a lot less relation-shit. I've gotten much better at just letting myself be, knowing I simply appreciate us, each and all--not just because we are family who we think we're obligated to love, but because I see them as my friends--people and beings that I genuinely like to be with.
I've had weird symptoms:
About 7 years ago, after having become aware that there were physical symptoms of awakening, I couldn't stretch my right (dominant) arm in any direction without a body-wrenching shock of pain. My husband actually shared this symptom with me. We quit stretching our arms overhead in bed upon first waking up in the morning, and we became quite adept at using our left hands. Even reaching down into a cupboard would slam a shock through. This lasted nearly a year. The left brain (masculine/reasoning side) controls the limbs on the right side of the body--and I'd experienced most of my life left-brained dominant. The right brain (feminine/intuitive side) was waking up in me so my body was supporting my exercising my sleepy right-brained functions by making me use my left hand. In hindsight I can see it all so clearly now--it was a form of natural physical therapy--but at the time, it was really strange.
I used to feel extreme pressure at the very tip of my tailbone--to the extent that it felt bruised and battered, but I'd done nothing to injure myself, nor did it appear black and blue. It just felt that way. Our energy runs along our spines and sometimes the pressure of new light-energy coming in is made more painful due to old stuck energies blocking up the path. Neck, shoulder and lower back pain are very common awakening symptoms. I've dealt with it in all those areas--even lately. I had to quit walking and gardening for a good year due to the pain in my knees and hips--I used to be able to walk and stretch things out, but it no longer worked that way--forcing things made it worse. I am walking again, but I still have days when I just realize that it is probably better to not walk that day. I found comfort in knowing that it was just a temporary thing. By temporary, I include everything from the feeling of a symptom for just a moment to days, weeks, months and even years of some of these things--but they all do eventually pass.
A few years ago I was especially sensitive to crowds for awhile. I'd be walking along in the mall or Walmart and suddenly couldn't step forward. It was really embarrassing, and the more silly and agitated I felt about it and the more I tried to force myself to move, the more leaden my leg, the more stuck I was. I used to have to try to discreetly beg my husband to slow up and wait for me for a moment, so I could take a moment to consciously breathe and center myself--and, like magic, I could walk again. I learned to exercise self-compassion here--I couldn't just shake it off and force myself to walk. Forcing didn't work.
The skin is the largest organ with the ability to excrete or release old toxins/old energy--I've had my share of skin rashes come and go, too. Warm sea-salt only water baths have helped, along with wearing loose-fitting natural fibers like cotton.
Just so you know, too, all of this shifting affects all physical body parts--including the sex parts--so if you find yourself in some bewildering experiences in those areas, please know you're not alone, and that you'll be okay there, too. Some stuff is just too personal to share in a blog.
A couple of weeks ago, as I grabbed my walking shoes in preparation for a walk with my husband, my ankle had a pain hit that was like hitting my not-so-funny bone in the elbow. It affected my entire leg to the extent that I wasn't going to be able to walk--it hurt to touch it. But it only lasted a few minutes at the most, and we walked just fine shortly afterwards. I get a lot of foot cramps and pain in the joints of my feet lately. It's gotten so I prefer going barefoot.
I realize this stuff sounds awful, but the symptoms have lessened in intensity over the years, especially as I've let go of my fears surrounding them. Initially, anytime a symptom would pop up I used to find myself over-analyzing everything, trying to figure out what I was doing wrong.
Now I just look at it as being a part of an amazingly grand shift on all levels of consciousness--physical bodies included. I actually think of it all as shifting and there is no more fear to it. The symptoms aren't nearly as painful in intensity compared to the early years--I've actually forgotten the pain. In trying to remember my own experiences for this blog, I've been astounded how much I've moved through. A person just goes through it moment by moment--ALWAYS BREATHING it through--and once the pain is gone, you forget it.
The personally freeing insights have been worth the journey every step of the way.
Not all awakening symptoms are painful. I've had warm, tingly sensations in my head and throughout my body. I discover myself smiling with the experience--it's like a warm, lovingly gentle touch, a reminder that I'm not alone.
As for that whole healthcare issue that our politicians have legislated--it doesn't matter to me. I AM the sovereign of my body domain--no one outside of me can legislate that or affect me if I choose to no longer give them that power. I simply stepped out of the game. Those that want can play it to their hearts content, but I choose to no longer play in the game of giving my gift of life, or my sovereignty, away.
Related Posts: Just click on the highlighted titles or phrases:
I Don't Like Diagnosing or Labeling of Dis-Ease: Here's Why...
Physical Symptoms of My Awakening, Part 2
We're all quite the characters--actors, that is--role-playing together. These are stories of my awakening, my remembering realization that Home/Heaven is wherever I am. That I am not the puppet on someone else's string. The search is over. I simply FREELY CHOSE to quit searching outside of myself, and realized all my answers have always been within.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
What I Desire From The FaceBook Experience
You, me, us, sharing our stories and insights from living the experiences--that's why I participate in FaceBook. It's a grand way to connect.
Those that went to high school with me remember me as the (shuddering here) "nice girl with the good grades and the really thick, ugly glasses." It was the seventies and eighties--need I say anymore about the fashion statement that I was? I didn't get the good grades because I had a huge intellect, or because I was a brown-noser. I had decent memorizing abilities, and I caught onto concepts fairly quickly and easily, and--well-trained gopher that I was for certain family members--I was also great at fulfilling the requirements asked of me.
But I'm pretty sure my teachers liked me mainly because I was a respectful and considerate listener. A couple of weeks ago, I was out with my husband celebrating his birthday by going out dancing to one of our favorite bands who were in town--and at the end of the night, one of the performers thanked me for staying to the end.
My favorite memories growing up on the farm are of sitting around the big kitchen table with family friends, relatives, and people just passing through; or in my brothers' room with their friends, listening to the stories everyone had to share. There was so much laughter, and I remember dreading having to go to bed before everyone else in case I missed out on something. I had parents, brothers and sisters who were great story tellers. They'd share some of their most embarrassing moments, and easily laugh at themselves. I loved trips home to re-unite with my family for those reasons--it reminded me to not take myself so seriously, and to take another look at the stuff about myself, see the humor in me.
How does all of this relate to FaceBook? When personal computers first came out, they opened up a whole new world for me. Using a word processor, I could actually type (the typewriters were my nemesis) my thoughts out quickly as they hit and then finesse them up easily later--I started writing. And then e-mail came along and I could easily share those thoughts with another without having to re-write it, stamp it, and then mail it, and then wait a few days for a reply. I was an e-mail junkie--until I started getting inundated with jokes and forwards that people used instead of their own words and stories. I lost the personal connection--and I missed it.
Then a few years ago, along came FaceBook, and the opportunity for me to re-connect with friends and acquaintances that I never expected to meet again--and many of them, on a level I never dreamed I'd be able to achieve with just a few.
It's been fun at times, and I've used it as a tool to come out of hiding and express what I'm really thinking.
It's also been frustrating because it's going the way of e-mail--quotes, sentiments, jokes, political gossip, etc. being forwarded without my "friends" connecting personally with me. Quotes that inspire and uplift, the occasional joke that makes me chuckle--they're all great, but honestly, if a person doesn't share with me how that relates to a story in their life--I'm going to forget it in the blur of forwarded messages. It turns into spam in my consciousness.
Politics, religion, relationship spats--that's all just gossip to me. And gossip is energy-stealing and feeding at its worst. There's not a damn thing I can do about what others say and do, and I don't feel the need to be anyone else's watchdog. In this day and age, anyone out to steal the power from another is going to get slapped right back with what he/she puts out without me having to take a second look at any of them. And people can't steal from me or affect me in any manner unless I'm first handing myself over on a platter saying, "Poor, pitiful me--here I am--Eat ME!" With me, it's all about how to empower myself in my life and thus being able to empower another in theirs.
FaceBook posts for special causes are also irritating in that most of them end in the guilt trip, "Only 99% of people reading this will dare to re-post this as their status..." Because of this line, I WON'T re-post it, and sometimes there's something in the missive that I actually like.
Anyone else remember the old chain letter? FaceBook has it's own version and it uses superstition and fear to get people to re-post nonsense in order to get blessings. Frankly, my beloved friends, I always wish for you the blessing of living your most wildly abundant lives--no strings, no conditions attached.
In short, I just wanted you all to know--it's YOU that I want hear. You ARE the blessings in my life. I AM thankful for FaceBook providing me with the opportunity to participate in sharing ourselves with each other. I hope you'll share yourself with me--I LOVE your stories and personal insights and comedies.
Those that went to high school with me remember me as the (shuddering here) "nice girl with the good grades and the really thick, ugly glasses." It was the seventies and eighties--need I say anymore about the fashion statement that I was? I didn't get the good grades because I had a huge intellect, or because I was a brown-noser. I had decent memorizing abilities, and I caught onto concepts fairly quickly and easily, and--well-trained gopher that I was for certain family members--I was also great at fulfilling the requirements asked of me.
But I'm pretty sure my teachers liked me mainly because I was a respectful and considerate listener. A couple of weeks ago, I was out with my husband celebrating his birthday by going out dancing to one of our favorite bands who were in town--and at the end of the night, one of the performers thanked me for staying to the end.
My favorite memories growing up on the farm are of sitting around the big kitchen table with family friends, relatives, and people just passing through; or in my brothers' room with their friends, listening to the stories everyone had to share. There was so much laughter, and I remember dreading having to go to bed before everyone else in case I missed out on something. I had parents, brothers and sisters who were great story tellers. They'd share some of their most embarrassing moments, and easily laugh at themselves. I loved trips home to re-unite with my family for those reasons--it reminded me to not take myself so seriously, and to take another look at the stuff about myself, see the humor in me.
How does all of this relate to FaceBook? When personal computers first came out, they opened up a whole new world for me. Using a word processor, I could actually type (the typewriters were my nemesis) my thoughts out quickly as they hit and then finesse them up easily later--I started writing. And then e-mail came along and I could easily share those thoughts with another without having to re-write it, stamp it, and then mail it, and then wait a few days for a reply. I was an e-mail junkie--until I started getting inundated with jokes and forwards that people used instead of their own words and stories. I lost the personal connection--and I missed it.
Then a few years ago, along came FaceBook, and the opportunity for me to re-connect with friends and acquaintances that I never expected to meet again--and many of them, on a level I never dreamed I'd be able to achieve with just a few.
It's been fun at times, and I've used it as a tool to come out of hiding and express what I'm really thinking.
It's also been frustrating because it's going the way of e-mail--quotes, sentiments, jokes, political gossip, etc. being forwarded without my "friends" connecting personally with me. Quotes that inspire and uplift, the occasional joke that makes me chuckle--they're all great, but honestly, if a person doesn't share with me how that relates to a story in their life--I'm going to forget it in the blur of forwarded messages. It turns into spam in my consciousness.
Politics, religion, relationship spats--that's all just gossip to me. And gossip is energy-stealing and feeding at its worst. There's not a damn thing I can do about what others say and do, and I don't feel the need to be anyone else's watchdog. In this day and age, anyone out to steal the power from another is going to get slapped right back with what he/she puts out without me having to take a second look at any of them. And people can't steal from me or affect me in any manner unless I'm first handing myself over on a platter saying, "Poor, pitiful me--here I am--Eat ME!" With me, it's all about how to empower myself in my life and thus being able to empower another in theirs.
FaceBook posts for special causes are also irritating in that most of them end in the guilt trip, "Only 99% of people reading this will dare to re-post this as their status..." Because of this line, I WON'T re-post it, and sometimes there's something in the missive that I actually like.
Anyone else remember the old chain letter? FaceBook has it's own version and it uses superstition and fear to get people to re-post nonsense in order to get blessings. Frankly, my beloved friends, I always wish for you the blessing of living your most wildly abundant lives--no strings, no conditions attached.
In short, I just wanted you all to know--it's YOU that I want hear. You ARE the blessings in my life. I AM thankful for FaceBook providing me with the opportunity to participate in sharing ourselves with each other. I hope you'll share yourself with me--I LOVE your stories and personal insights and comedies.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Bring That Which Is Hidden Into The Light: Overcoming the Victimhood Addiction
"Penny--Bring that which is hidden into the Light."
At the time I allowed my most hidden, sordid-seeming childhood secret to come fully into my conscious awareness, I knew it was for the healing of myself, but I wanted to move through it quickly in order to put it behind me, and never have to address the subject ever again. But, no-ooo, that warm and tingling, gently hugging, knowingness conversation that I was having with the Eternal One within me was just getting me started....evidently......
I was in my thirties (I'm now 48) when I became friends with a woman who shared with me that she had been a victim of child molestation. She'd been institutionalized for anorexia and bulimia as a teenager and young adult. Though she professed to be Christian, she did phone sex in order to earn her living. When I first knew of her, she was highly obese and walking around in a Prozac haze. After experiencing her as the animated and fun-loving friend I came to interact with later on, you'll understand why I'm so adamantly against the use of drugs for emotional or mental therapy. She mirrored back to me beautifully what I could expect my own life to be like if I didn't take personal responsibility for my own well-being and happiness. Bless her heart for playing that part for me.
After she shared her little personal bomb with me it irritatingly started my own experience to rise to the surface of my thoughts, though I didn't reciprocate in the sharing of stories. I had planned to take that particular nugget of shame to my grave. I was out shoveling snow from around our car in the parking lot when the whole she-bang came bawling out of me late one night.
Several years earlier, the memories had been forced to the surface when the person who'd played the part of sexual molester (I really hate labels, so I'm using this for clarity purposes only) for me, sought me out in order to apologize for their part in our past--to take full responsibility. I held no grudge against the person, even prior to the apology. Part of me was angry at the time, because I had convinced myself it was all just a dream and never really happened--when suddenly I was forced momentarily to acknowledge that it had. I unhesitatingly told the person I'd just believed it was a dream, that they were forgiven, not to worry about having hurt me. Then I quickly crammed that whole story so far back in my psyche that I almost, once again, convinced myself it hadn't happened.
This person had gone out on a very precarious limb by coming forth to apologize--they literally put their life in my hands. As the "victim" of the scenario, I had the power--the mass consciousness of humanity, who pities the "poor" victims, gave it to me--and I was aware that how I handled this story was probably the biggest responsibility of my life.
Now back to shoveling snow. As I mulled over what my friend had shared about her experience--and she played the victim role to the hilt--I had insight into the person who "victimized" me. With every scoop of snow I threw, I literally FELT my "molester's" remorse, the longing to have the chance to change our history (a seeming impossibility) in order to make a different choice to not have done what was done. The prison and hell that that person was in, of their own making, was far worse than any punishment any human, god, or institution of torture could design for a "criminal." I sobbed with their pain and sense of powerlessness and unworthiness. And I sobbed with my own of the exact same stuff.......
I knew I had to find that person, and let them know, without a doubt, that I forgave them our trespassing. During our conversation, it seemed important that I encouraged the person to understand that I believed there was a good purpose behind our experience together--I knew this deep down. There is a time and a season for everything under the sun--Ecclesiastes. I also knew that in order to perceive--or to experience life as we know it--we needed both contrasts of darkness and light (duality)--they were both the gift of The Eternal One, that comforting spark of Home that I carried within me, no matter where I was or what the circumstances.
I neither condone nor condemn sexual abusers. I'm sharing all of this because it's time to put some real light on the subject of this sexual energy virus that's running rampant through our mass consciousness. Filling jail cells, posting sex offender notices, pointing fingers, keeping secrets--none of these things have stopped the abuses, have you noticed? I am unwilling to settle for anything less than pure resolution of this matter.
In order to keep my postings short, I'm taking a break here. This is just the tip of the iceberg. I've had many experiences and insights in the days, months and years since the memories surfaced. I've done a great deal of walking as my form of meditation, and while on one such walk, I was told by the knowingness within that I had to share my secret with my husband--thus, the subject of my next post.
Part 2:
"God/Father--he (meaning my husband) is going to ask 'Who?' ....and I don't want to bring harm to anyone. I don't want to blame anyone. Do I have to reveal the identity?"
My answer to the question was "No. You never have to reveal the identity. That's not what this is about. This is about YOUR SECRET, Penny, and the hold it has over you. A secret brought out in the open loses its power to control you. Once again, bring that which is hidden out into the Light."
And so I told my husband. He asked, "Who?"--and I told him I was never going to share that part with anyone. It was really rather undramatic--he didn't reject me for my past, which was my second worst outcome fear. My world didn't come crashing down around me, and I felt a great deal lighter in burdens shouldered.
The next day I woke up with what turned out to be some compressed and bulged discs in my neck and shoulders. The chiropractor asked me if I'd suffered some sort of emotional trauma, and I answered with what I thought at the time was a truthful "No." It didn't feel like a trauma the previous day. It felt more like a huge relief, but in hindsight, I had made a huge consciousness shift, and a spine that had been twisted and tight with years of tension was obviously going to spring a bit out of alignment once it was loosened. I was learning about returning to balance on all levels--physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually.
The voice within wouldn't let me off the hook with just telling one person. My story got shared with at least a couple dozen more people. I couldn't share it with my parents--I was too afraid it would hurt them from their possible viewpoint of not having protected me enough or some such nonsense. I share this because--moms and dads--your kids don't tell you everything, do they. Especially if they're feeling really ashamed about something.
One of those with whom I did share was my actual brother, who blessed me by being willing to be that one person outside of me who created a SAFE SPACE with me, where I could talk candidly about the experience and how I truly felt and perceived it--all without condemnation or judgment of me or the other person. He honored my intentions and my choice of the process of healing all the way through. I wrap him in hugs of profound thanks.
I also had help in the form of the lyrics and melody of the song I'm posting in these pages. This, too, came to me as I walked--to the rhythm of my steps. The child in me needs my listeners to understand that I was trying to find the words to express myself clearly, and through music and art, the language of Heaven, I found my voice. I never wanted to play the victim card in this particular instance, though as a human, I've played victim more times than I can count in many other scenarios.
I give Oprah a great deal of credit for bringing the subject of molestation out into the open, but she could only go so far with it according to the context of the time (the nineties). While the subject matter was brought out into the open, unfortunately, it was too easy to point a dramatic, audience-pleasing, sensational finger of blame at someone else and not really dig into the guts of the matter to address the core issue of why it was happening.
This energy feeding/stealing, manifesting here in its most obvious form of physical sexual abuse, is a result of the sexual energy virus in consciousness--the imbalance of the masculine/feminine aspect inside every single one of us--no matter our gender.
If one mentions the word "sex" everyone automatically leaps to the physical act--but the virus I'm talking about here permeates every relationship.
If you find yourself seeking outside of yourself for a person, a god, or some other being to complete you, to LOVE you--or if you're trying to control or maintain a position of power--that is the sexual energy virus.
You already are complete and whole in yourself--just like the wandering bridegroom discovered in The Song of Solomon.
If you're perceiving yourself as a victim in any way--you are dealing with the sexual energy virus.
Even the perpetrators--the abusers--perceive themselves as a victim.
Both sides of the story--victim and abuser--are seeking power and control. When there are no more victims, there is no more abuse.
Oprah didn't have this information at the time--so here I am.
One little nine-year-old guest of Oprah's was praised for legally accusing her abuser while the "experts" in the field glossed over the fact that not all sexual interactions--even molestations--physically hurt. This moment on the show angered me, because no one made a safe space for a child to be completely truthful--a necessity to true healing--about her experience.
Any adult who's had sex with a considerate, if not also loving, partner knows how sensual and pleasurable the act can be. And sometimes a child's curiosity about that which isn't talked about openly can find himself succumbing to the temptation to experiment. And if that child has a pleasant experience, he/she might allow it to happen more than once, even encourage it--even though she knows she shouldn't. And that, folks, was the crux of the matter for me.
The guilt and shame I carried had nothing to do with the other person--it didn't matter who they were, what we did or didn't do. I did know that all I had to say was No and walk away, but I didn't. I allowed it to happen--and that was why I tried to bury it all away. My guilt and personal shame was running the show. To point a finger of blame at anyone else was to have it point right back at me!
This is why I chose to tell my story--there are other children of all ages just like me out there. And I simply want them to know that they're not alone, and that it can all turn out okay if you learn to FORGIVE, LOVE and TRUST YOURSELF.
Self-Forgiveness is just realizing you were a curious, naive, blind human--we ALL have done harmful things to ourselves, and others, when we didn't remember who we really are. That wasn't the true you. That simply was NOT a CONSCIOUS, FULLY AWARE/AWAKENED person who did those things in the past. And it doesn't do anyone any good to carry that shame into your present--doing that actually perpetuates the sexual energy virus.
You have to ask yourself, "Why would a child who was molested grow up to do phone sex? Why do some victims of abuse become abusers, and others, not? And if they aren't stealing energy from others through physical sexual abuses, is it showing up in other areas of their relationships and interactions with themselves and others? Why did so many priests who tried to suppress and control their sexuality succumb to sexually abusing those in their care? How many physical and mental dis-eases/imbalances can be traced back to some childhood experience that the person silently carries around in the guilt bag draped across his/her shoulders?"
How about helping me create a SAFE SPACE in our society that encourages everyone in the possibility of healing these imbalances in themselves? Gossip and speculation (the virus running rampant) about the ghosts in other people's closets heals nothing.
Victimhood--I was determined to no longer succumb to it in any aspect of my life and relationships. I was tired of the disempowering pity parties that it promoted, and I was tired of how it was being used to energetically feed off others. If you're always perceiving yourself as the victim in any type of relationship or interaction (physical sex doesn't have to even be a part of the picture), then you're not accepting COMPASSIONATE RESPONSIBILITY for that part of your life. You're not letting that wounded child within you speak her/his truth to at least, yourself--and that scenario of victimizer/victim will never change for you--even to the death--until you do.
Little One
At the time I allowed my most hidden, sordid-seeming childhood secret to come fully into my conscious awareness, I knew it was for the healing of myself, but I wanted to move through it quickly in order to put it behind me, and never have to address the subject ever again. But, no-ooo, that warm and tingling, gently hugging, knowingness conversation that I was having with the Eternal One within me was just getting me started....evidently......
I was in my thirties (I'm now 48) when I became friends with a woman who shared with me that she had been a victim of child molestation. She'd been institutionalized for anorexia and bulimia as a teenager and young adult. Though she professed to be Christian, she did phone sex in order to earn her living. When I first knew of her, she was highly obese and walking around in a Prozac haze. After experiencing her as the animated and fun-loving friend I came to interact with later on, you'll understand why I'm so adamantly against the use of drugs for emotional or mental therapy. She mirrored back to me beautifully what I could expect my own life to be like if I didn't take personal responsibility for my own well-being and happiness. Bless her heart for playing that part for me.
After she shared her little personal bomb with me it irritatingly started my own experience to rise to the surface of my thoughts, though I didn't reciprocate in the sharing of stories. I had planned to take that particular nugget of shame to my grave. I was out shoveling snow from around our car in the parking lot when the whole she-bang came bawling out of me late one night.
Several years earlier, the memories had been forced to the surface when the person who'd played the part of sexual molester (I really hate labels, so I'm using this for clarity purposes only) for me, sought me out in order to apologize for their part in our past--to take full responsibility. I held no grudge against the person, even prior to the apology. Part of me was angry at the time, because I had convinced myself it was all just a dream and never really happened--when suddenly I was forced momentarily to acknowledge that it had. I unhesitatingly told the person I'd just believed it was a dream, that they were forgiven, not to worry about having hurt me. Then I quickly crammed that whole story so far back in my psyche that I almost, once again, convinced myself it hadn't happened.
This person had gone out on a very precarious limb by coming forth to apologize--they literally put their life in my hands. As the "victim" of the scenario, I had the power--the mass consciousness of humanity, who pities the "poor" victims, gave it to me--and I was aware that how I handled this story was probably the biggest responsibility of my life.
Now back to shoveling snow. As I mulled over what my friend had shared about her experience--and she played the victim role to the hilt--I had insight into the person who "victimized" me. With every scoop of snow I threw, I literally FELT my "molester's" remorse, the longing to have the chance to change our history (a seeming impossibility) in order to make a different choice to not have done what was done. The prison and hell that that person was in, of their own making, was far worse than any punishment any human, god, or institution of torture could design for a "criminal." I sobbed with their pain and sense of powerlessness and unworthiness. And I sobbed with my own of the exact same stuff.......
I knew I had to find that person, and let them know, without a doubt, that I forgave them our trespassing. During our conversation, it seemed important that I encouraged the person to understand that I believed there was a good purpose behind our experience together--I knew this deep down. There is a time and a season for everything under the sun--Ecclesiastes. I also knew that in order to perceive--or to experience life as we know it--we needed both contrasts of darkness and light (duality)--they were both the gift of The Eternal One, that comforting spark of Home that I carried within me, no matter where I was or what the circumstances.
I neither condone nor condemn sexual abusers. I'm sharing all of this because it's time to put some real light on the subject of this sexual energy virus that's running rampant through our mass consciousness. Filling jail cells, posting sex offender notices, pointing fingers, keeping secrets--none of these things have stopped the abuses, have you noticed? I am unwilling to settle for anything less than pure resolution of this matter.
In order to keep my postings short, I'm taking a break here. This is just the tip of the iceberg. I've had many experiences and insights in the days, months and years since the memories surfaced. I've done a great deal of walking as my form of meditation, and while on one such walk, I was told by the knowingness within that I had to share my secret with my husband--thus, the subject of my next post.
Part 2:
"God/Father--he (meaning my husband) is going to ask 'Who?' ....and I don't want to bring harm to anyone. I don't want to blame anyone. Do I have to reveal the identity?"
My answer to the question was "No. You never have to reveal the identity. That's not what this is about. This is about YOUR SECRET, Penny, and the hold it has over you. A secret brought out in the open loses its power to control you. Once again, bring that which is hidden out into the Light."
And so I told my husband. He asked, "Who?"--and I told him I was never going to share that part with anyone. It was really rather undramatic--he didn't reject me for my past, which was my second worst outcome fear. My world didn't come crashing down around me, and I felt a great deal lighter in burdens shouldered.
The next day I woke up with what turned out to be some compressed and bulged discs in my neck and shoulders. The chiropractor asked me if I'd suffered some sort of emotional trauma, and I answered with what I thought at the time was a truthful "No." It didn't feel like a trauma the previous day. It felt more like a huge relief, but in hindsight, I had made a huge consciousness shift, and a spine that had been twisted and tight with years of tension was obviously going to spring a bit out of alignment once it was loosened. I was learning about returning to balance on all levels--physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually.
The voice within wouldn't let me off the hook with just telling one person. My story got shared with at least a couple dozen more people. I couldn't share it with my parents--I was too afraid it would hurt them from their possible viewpoint of not having protected me enough or some such nonsense. I share this because--moms and dads--your kids don't tell you everything, do they. Especially if they're feeling really ashamed about something.
One of those with whom I did share was my actual brother, who blessed me by being willing to be that one person outside of me who created a SAFE SPACE with me, where I could talk candidly about the experience and how I truly felt and perceived it--all without condemnation or judgment of me or the other person. He honored my intentions and my choice of the process of healing all the way through. I wrap him in hugs of profound thanks.
I also had help in the form of the lyrics and melody of the song I'm posting in these pages. This, too, came to me as I walked--to the rhythm of my steps. The child in me needs my listeners to understand that I was trying to find the words to express myself clearly, and through music and art, the language of Heaven, I found my voice. I never wanted to play the victim card in this particular instance, though as a human, I've played victim more times than I can count in many other scenarios.
I give Oprah a great deal of credit for bringing the subject of molestation out into the open, but she could only go so far with it according to the context of the time (the nineties). While the subject matter was brought out into the open, unfortunately, it was too easy to point a dramatic, audience-pleasing, sensational finger of blame at someone else and not really dig into the guts of the matter to address the core issue of why it was happening.
This energy feeding/stealing, manifesting here in its most obvious form of physical sexual abuse, is a result of the sexual energy virus in consciousness--the imbalance of the masculine/feminine aspect inside every single one of us--no matter our gender.
If one mentions the word "sex" everyone automatically leaps to the physical act--but the virus I'm talking about here permeates every relationship.
If you find yourself seeking outside of yourself for a person, a god, or some other being to complete you, to LOVE you--or if you're trying to control or maintain a position of power--that is the sexual energy virus.
You already are complete and whole in yourself--just like the wandering bridegroom discovered in The Song of Solomon.
If you're perceiving yourself as a victim in any way--you are dealing with the sexual energy virus.
Even the perpetrators--the abusers--perceive themselves as a victim.
Both sides of the story--victim and abuser--are seeking power and control. When there are no more victims, there is no more abuse.
Oprah didn't have this information at the time--so here I am.
One little nine-year-old guest of Oprah's was praised for legally accusing her abuser while the "experts" in the field glossed over the fact that not all sexual interactions--even molestations--physically hurt. This moment on the show angered me, because no one made a safe space for a child to be completely truthful--a necessity to true healing--about her experience.
Any adult who's had sex with a considerate, if not also loving, partner knows how sensual and pleasurable the act can be. And sometimes a child's curiosity about that which isn't talked about openly can find himself succumbing to the temptation to experiment. And if that child has a pleasant experience, he/she might allow it to happen more than once, even encourage it--even though she knows she shouldn't. And that, folks, was the crux of the matter for me.
The guilt and shame I carried had nothing to do with the other person--it didn't matter who they were, what we did or didn't do. I did know that all I had to say was No and walk away, but I didn't. I allowed it to happen--and that was why I tried to bury it all away. My guilt and personal shame was running the show. To point a finger of blame at anyone else was to have it point right back at me!
This is why I chose to tell my story--there are other children of all ages just like me out there. And I simply want them to know that they're not alone, and that it can all turn out okay if you learn to FORGIVE, LOVE and TRUST YOURSELF.
Self-Forgiveness is just realizing you were a curious, naive, blind human--we ALL have done harmful things to ourselves, and others, when we didn't remember who we really are. That wasn't the true you. That simply was NOT a CONSCIOUS, FULLY AWARE/AWAKENED person who did those things in the past. And it doesn't do anyone any good to carry that shame into your present--doing that actually perpetuates the sexual energy virus.
You have to ask yourself, "Why would a child who was molested grow up to do phone sex? Why do some victims of abuse become abusers, and others, not? And if they aren't stealing energy from others through physical sexual abuses, is it showing up in other areas of their relationships and interactions with themselves and others? Why did so many priests who tried to suppress and control their sexuality succumb to sexually abusing those in their care? How many physical and mental dis-eases/imbalances can be traced back to some childhood experience that the person silently carries around in the guilt bag draped across his/her shoulders?"
How about helping me create a SAFE SPACE in our society that encourages everyone in the possibility of healing these imbalances in themselves? Gossip and speculation (the virus running rampant) about the ghosts in other people's closets heals nothing.
Victimhood--I was determined to no longer succumb to it in any aspect of my life and relationships. I was tired of the disempowering pity parties that it promoted, and I was tired of how it was being used to energetically feed off others. If you're always perceiving yourself as the victim in any type of relationship or interaction (physical sex doesn't have to even be a part of the picture), then you're not accepting COMPASSIONATE RESPONSIBILITY for that part of your life. You're not letting that wounded child within you speak her/his truth to at least, yourself--and that scenario of victimizer/victim will never change for you--even to the death--until you do.
Little One
Words and Music by Penny Lewton Binek
Little One--come out, be free
Little One--come and play with me!
It's all right--let your secrets unfold,
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 and your sorrows,
Then watch them disappear...
Little One--come out, be free
Little One--come and play with me!
It's all right--let your secrets unfold,
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 and 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...
(Instrumental)
Little One, come sing with me--
We have a song, a glorious melody.
Little One, come lift your heart in song
Giving thanks for all parts played,
Whether right or seeming wrong.
Hear the thunder, hear the 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!
All there is IS LOVE, Little One.
All there is IS LOVE, Little One.
All there is Is Love, Little One--
How you've grown into my sun/son!
Part 3:
"Judge NOT, lest you BE judged."
When I first read Yeshua's (I knew him first by the name Jesus) above statement in The New Testament, I pictured him pointing this stern finger at me chewing me out for judging people, and I cringed inwardly with guilt and shame.
But in the latter years, after many experiences, I've had a different insight on this--and my two previous posts highlight it for me. It's helped me a great deal in healing myself and finding my inner peace, so maybe it will help someone else. Take it or leave it, okay? It really doesn't matter to me.
It is my own understanding that, when Yeshua made that statement, he was teaching us how the spiritual/physical physics of reality manifestation works. I don't believe he intended to trigger my guilty feelings. He was telling us that when we have an experience and then make a judgment about that experience as BEING "right" or "wrong," we actually emotionally trigger/CAUSE that experience "TO BE" manifested in our reality--to last LONGER in our reality.
If we allow ourselves to simply have an experience without judging it--it simply comes forth and then disappears or stays accordingly, AS WE CHOOSE, moment by moment.
For instance, I'm at a place now where that old childhood story of mine really doesn't affect me anymore. From where I stand now, it doesn't even feel as big as I made it out to be--we were both just curious. But back in the early days of the resurfacing of the memories of it, I shed A LOT of tears, walked about with lumps in my throat, and coughed a great deal as I gradually worked up the courage and gave myself permission to express on the subject. But with the last two posts--I cried not a single tear, felt not a lump or even a single bit of guilt or shame about my part or my partner's part. And that FEELS REALLY GREAT!
Yeshua's statement surfaced in my thoughts again today and I realized that both of us made a judgment about a choice we each made to have an experience together--an experience we both perceived as "the wrong thing to do" but we did it anyway. Because of that judgment, we felt guilty and made it a secret--so we perpetuated that experience over and over again throughout our lives in many different forms in our relationships of all types.
When my partner took the bull by the horns, and approached me with an apology, they actually opened the door of letting that experience then begin to disappear--actually making the pain start to depart. But there were two of us involved in its creation, and in order to truly put it to rest, I also had to take responsibility for my part in perpetuating the manifestation, and had to open a door, too--which was addressing my own guilty feelings about my perceived "wrong way to be" judgment. I had to simply forgive myself and realize THAT WASN'T ME--I wasn't aware of my I AM THAT I AM. I wasn't awake to my TRUE self.
Beloved friends, if you truly want to help a child molestation victim, let go of pitying and feeling sorry for them--an approach that keeps the awful story playing out in one's reality. Instead, empower them to stand as the self-master of their own life--learn and teach the concept of SELF-FORGIVENESS.
My beloved Tobias's (another messenger in my life) parting message was, "Remember--you've done nothing wrong, not really, EVER."
Life--it's an amazing potential of experience of all kinds, helping us all grow in wisdom. Thank you ALL with my most deeply-felt, unconditional love and gratitude for playing all parts with me and for me.....
Related posts:
Walk Like a Master
"I need..." Indicates the Sexual Energy Virus is Present
Forgive Yourself: We're All Just Role-Playing Together
My Big Ah-Ha!/Yahoo! Moment
I've loosed your shackles--guilt, shame and misery.
Little One, come let your spirit soar
Through wondrous places you've never dreamed before...
(Instrumental)
Little One, come sing with me--
We have a song, a glorious melody.
Little One, come lift your heart in song
Giving thanks for all parts played,
Whether right or seeming wrong.
Hear the thunder, hear the 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!
All there is IS LOVE, Little One.
All there is IS LOVE, Little One.
All there is Is Love, Little One--
How you've grown into my sun/son!
Part 3:
"Judge NOT, lest you BE judged."
When I first read Yeshua's (I knew him first by the name Jesus) above statement in The New Testament, I pictured him pointing this stern finger at me chewing me out for judging people, and I cringed inwardly with guilt and shame.
But in the latter years, after many experiences, I've had a different insight on this--and my two previous posts highlight it for me. It's helped me a great deal in healing myself and finding my inner peace, so maybe it will help someone else. Take it or leave it, okay? It really doesn't matter to me.
It is my own understanding that, when Yeshua made that statement, he was teaching us how the spiritual/physical physics of reality manifestation works. I don't believe he intended to trigger my guilty feelings. He was telling us that when we have an experience and then make a judgment about that experience as BEING "right" or "wrong," we actually emotionally trigger/CAUSE that experience "TO BE" manifested in our reality--to last LONGER in our reality.
If we allow ourselves to simply have an experience without judging it--it simply comes forth and then disappears or stays accordingly, AS WE CHOOSE, moment by moment.
For instance, I'm at a place now where that old childhood story of mine really doesn't affect me anymore. From where I stand now, it doesn't even feel as big as I made it out to be--we were both just curious. But back in the early days of the resurfacing of the memories of it, I shed A LOT of tears, walked about with lumps in my throat, and coughed a great deal as I gradually worked up the courage and gave myself permission to express on the subject. But with the last two posts--I cried not a single tear, felt not a lump or even a single bit of guilt or shame about my part or my partner's part. And that FEELS REALLY GREAT!
Yeshua's statement surfaced in my thoughts again today and I realized that both of us made a judgment about a choice we each made to have an experience together--an experience we both perceived as "the wrong thing to do" but we did it anyway. Because of that judgment, we felt guilty and made it a secret--so we perpetuated that experience over and over again throughout our lives in many different forms in our relationships of all types.
When my partner took the bull by the horns, and approached me with an apology, they actually opened the door of letting that experience then begin to disappear--actually making the pain start to depart. But there were two of us involved in its creation, and in order to truly put it to rest, I also had to take responsibility for my part in perpetuating the manifestation, and had to open a door, too--which was addressing my own guilty feelings about my perceived "wrong way to be" judgment. I had to simply forgive myself and realize THAT WASN'T ME--I wasn't aware of my I AM THAT I AM. I wasn't awake to my TRUE self.
Beloved friends, if you truly want to help a child molestation victim, let go of pitying and feeling sorry for them--an approach that keeps the awful story playing out in one's reality. Instead, empower them to stand as the self-master of their own life--learn and teach the concept of SELF-FORGIVENESS.
My beloved Tobias's (another messenger in my life) parting message was, "Remember--you've done nothing wrong, not really, EVER."
Life--it's an amazing potential of experience of all kinds, helping us all grow in wisdom. Thank you ALL with my most deeply-felt, unconditional love and gratitude for playing all parts with me and for me.....
Related posts:
Walk Like a Master
"I need..." Indicates the Sexual Energy Virus is Present
Forgive Yourself: We're All Just Role-Playing Together
My Big Ah-Ha!/Yahoo! Moment
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
My Candid Heartfelt Thoughts About Cancer
I'm allowing myself to express here all the thoughts and perceptions and concepts I experienced while watching my dad leave this earth after getting a diagnosis of cancer--things I was too intimidated by the mass consciousness and belief systems all around me at the time, to say out loud.
"A diagnosis of cancer is an inevitable death sentence."
That is the predominant idea that is accepted as truth for most of humanity. But it IS NOT my truth!
I also believe that any disease or illness is unique to the individual experiencing it so there's not going to be a wonder drug that cures it, nor will it be a drug or medical treatment of any kind alone that brings about the results we desire--it's going to depend on that person's self-awareness, their personal inner perceptions and truly felt beliefs (not just mind-chattering mantras) about their life. It's going to be connected to this simple question:
"Is my life a gift to me?" ...........or have I been trying to prove myself worthy of breathing the air I breathe to simply be alive? Am I apologizing for being--for existing?
I once accepted the latter "gotta prove myself worthy of being" as my truth. There are way more belief systems out there that preach that perspective than you will find of the former. They aren't all religious either--look at family, education, business, and government-taught beliefs, too. Proving self-worth is pretty much programmed into human mass consciousness.
I remember an interview some famed reporter did with Patrick Swayze. Patrick was a cancer FIGHTER, and his anger emanated off him in waves without him needing to say a word--though, his words added punch. I heart-breakingly intuitively knew that he was going to lose his battle, because the battle wasn't really about the cancer. The cancer was just the mirror reflecting the battle going on inside him, and his own dislike of himself.
The "fighting warrior" aspect was a distraction from having to look any deeper to heal what was really going on.
My dad didn't like himself much either. Actually, he pretty much was disgusted and frustrated with himself for things he had said and done in certain moments throughout his life. The very first thing he said to me when I walked in the door after Mom had just passed away was, "I didn't tell her I loved her. She said she loved me as I left the room to come home to sleep a bit, and I never said it back...." Never mind that the reason he probably couldn't bring himself to say it then was that he "knew" that would be saying good-bye and he wasn't ready for that.
My dad was a very compassionate and caring man who was human like all the rest of us--he said and did things he wished he could have taken back. He told me a few times in the interim between his and Mom's deaths, "I don't know why I'm still here. There must be something I have to do yet." He was heartbroken and lost, piled with layer upon layer of guilt only he knew about. People liked to blame the lung cancer on his smoking cigarettes (which he'd given up before Mom died), but I knew that the real culprit was that Dad couldn't accept himself. Mom and I used to talk about it all the time--how hard he was on himself, the self-expectations he had. He saw much of his life as a failure--I know this because I viewed my own life in that same way. We have a way of taking on our parents' stories as our own. I thought I was alive after Arlen died because "God picked the rose" and this old thorn had some lessons to learn, some worthiness to earn. Life wasn't a joyride when lived from that perspective.
Dad's dislike of himself is why I was symbolically touching every aspect of his life through the bottoms of his feet those final moments I had alone with him as his organs shut down, saying, "Well done, my son, I commend you to the Father.....Well done!........" I wanted him to know WITHOUT A DOUBT that I loved and appreciated every single aspect of his life that touched mine--even and especially, the ones he thought he did ALL WRONG!
So I feel myself cringing every single time I hear someone talking about fighting cancer. Humanity has pretty much been fighting the cancer battle and getting the same results--death over and over again. Some people are so destroyed by the weapons used to fight it that.......well, I'm at a loss for words here.....
Well, I've been looking at it using a new approach. I don't fight cancer, nor do I pity someone with it. The fighting doesn't seem to work, and pitying, to me, doesn't feel compassionate or empowering of the person in the healing of themselves.
Sometimes being sick seems like the only way we can get other people's attention. But there's something I discovered about using that tact. Other people's attention and love IS NEVER ENOUGH IF I DON'T APPRECIATE and LOVE MYSELF FIRST!!!! That approach quickly turns into an energy-sucking feeding frenzy where love and friendship doesn't have much to do with it. It's more of a hell pit.
The thing is, I know of people who've healed themselves of cancer, using whatever treatments they chose, along with using the illness as a means to learn to love and accept all aspects of themselves (past and present) along the way--and they shine with inner light, as well as health. One man in particular stated self-hatred was the cause of his experience with it.
Yes, you can be predisposed to it due to family history, but you can choose to get off that karmic path simply by choosing to no longer make it your story. It beats having your breasts cut off as a preventive measure. No judgment here about what anyone does or doesn't do--some ideas are just totally off-limits for me personally.
"A diagnosis of cancer is an inevitable death sentence."
That is the predominant idea that is accepted as truth for most of humanity. But it IS NOT my truth!
I also believe that any disease or illness is unique to the individual experiencing it so there's not going to be a wonder drug that cures it, nor will it be a drug or medical treatment of any kind alone that brings about the results we desire--it's going to depend on that person's self-awareness, their personal inner perceptions and truly felt beliefs (not just mind-chattering mantras) about their life. It's going to be connected to this simple question:
"Is my life a gift to me?" ...........or have I been trying to prove myself worthy of breathing the air I breathe to simply be alive? Am I apologizing for being--for existing?
I once accepted the latter "gotta prove myself worthy of being" as my truth. There are way more belief systems out there that preach that perspective than you will find of the former. They aren't all religious either--look at family, education, business, and government-taught beliefs, too. Proving self-worth is pretty much programmed into human mass consciousness.
I remember an interview some famed reporter did with Patrick Swayze. Patrick was a cancer FIGHTER, and his anger emanated off him in waves without him needing to say a word--though, his words added punch. I heart-breakingly intuitively knew that he was going to lose his battle, because the battle wasn't really about the cancer. The cancer was just the mirror reflecting the battle going on inside him, and his own dislike of himself.
The "fighting warrior" aspect was a distraction from having to look any deeper to heal what was really going on.
My dad didn't like himself much either. Actually, he pretty much was disgusted and frustrated with himself for things he had said and done in certain moments throughout his life. The very first thing he said to me when I walked in the door after Mom had just passed away was, "I didn't tell her I loved her. She said she loved me as I left the room to come home to sleep a bit, and I never said it back...." Never mind that the reason he probably couldn't bring himself to say it then was that he "knew" that would be saying good-bye and he wasn't ready for that.
My dad was a very compassionate and caring man who was human like all the rest of us--he said and did things he wished he could have taken back. He told me a few times in the interim between his and Mom's deaths, "I don't know why I'm still here. There must be something I have to do yet." He was heartbroken and lost, piled with layer upon layer of guilt only he knew about. People liked to blame the lung cancer on his smoking cigarettes (which he'd given up before Mom died), but I knew that the real culprit was that Dad couldn't accept himself. Mom and I used to talk about it all the time--how hard he was on himself, the self-expectations he had. He saw much of his life as a failure--I know this because I viewed my own life in that same way. We have a way of taking on our parents' stories as our own. I thought I was alive after Arlen died because "God picked the rose" and this old thorn had some lessons to learn, some worthiness to earn. Life wasn't a joyride when lived from that perspective.
Dad's dislike of himself is why I was symbolically touching every aspect of his life through the bottoms of his feet those final moments I had alone with him as his organs shut down, saying, "Well done, my son, I commend you to the Father.....Well done!........" I wanted him to know WITHOUT A DOUBT that I loved and appreciated every single aspect of his life that touched mine--even and especially, the ones he thought he did ALL WRONG!
So I feel myself cringing every single time I hear someone talking about fighting cancer. Humanity has pretty much been fighting the cancer battle and getting the same results--death over and over again. Some people are so destroyed by the weapons used to fight it that.......well, I'm at a loss for words here.....
Well, I've been looking at it using a new approach. I don't fight cancer, nor do I pity someone with it. The fighting doesn't seem to work, and pitying, to me, doesn't feel compassionate or empowering of the person in the healing of themselves.
Sometimes being sick seems like the only way we can get other people's attention. But there's something I discovered about using that tact. Other people's attention and love IS NEVER ENOUGH IF I DON'T APPRECIATE and LOVE MYSELF FIRST!!!! That approach quickly turns into an energy-sucking feeding frenzy where love and friendship doesn't have much to do with it. It's more of a hell pit.
The thing is, I know of people who've healed themselves of cancer, using whatever treatments they chose, along with using the illness as a means to learn to love and accept all aspects of themselves (past and present) along the way--and they shine with inner light, as well as health. One man in particular stated self-hatred was the cause of his experience with it.
Yes, you can be predisposed to it due to family history, but you can choose to get off that karmic path simply by choosing to no longer make it your story. It beats having your breasts cut off as a preventive measure. No judgment here about what anyone does or doesn't do--some ideas are just totally off-limits for me personally.
I am that I am...and...I am here!
Simply breathing with self-awareness and saying "Yes!" to one's personal life--to your simply being here on Earth--can bring about amazing shifts.
Simply breathing with self-awareness and saying "Yes!" to one's personal life--to your simply being here on Earth--can bring about amazing shifts.
You were not born a sinner! Being human is a most courageous endeavor.
Many people are more afraid of the pain of doing the inner work with themselves than they are of doing battle with the disease. It takes courage to go inside and look at things about yourself that you'd rather not look at or re-visit. I know that fear, too, but after going through all those things I once thought ugly and monstrous about myself, I discovered I'm not nearly as scary as I was giving myself credit for. There were so many more things going on than that single negative slice I had been focusing on--beautiful things. Gifts!
And most importantly, I found that God/Goddess/Source of All gave me this gift of experience called life--and the best reward any parent could get from their child is, "Thank you, Mom and Dad! My GIFT of LIFE is priceless and I AM ENJOYING IT--every single moment and aspect of it, from here on out! Thank you! I LOVE ME! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE THIS EARTH and ALL OF CREATION!....................................................................................I LOVE MY LIFE!"
Many people are more afraid of the pain of doing the inner work with themselves than they are of doing battle with the disease. It takes courage to go inside and look at things about yourself that you'd rather not look at or re-visit. I know that fear, too, but after going through all those things I once thought ugly and monstrous about myself, I discovered I'm not nearly as scary as I was giving myself credit for. There were so many more things going on than that single negative slice I had been focusing on--beautiful things. Gifts!
And most importantly, I found that God/Goddess/Source of All gave me this gift of experience called life--and the best reward any parent could get from their child is, "Thank you, Mom and Dad! My GIFT of LIFE is priceless and I AM ENJOYING IT--every single moment and aspect of it, from here on out! Thank you! I LOVE ME! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE THIS EARTH and ALL OF CREATION!....................................................................................I LOVE MY LIFE!"
Thursday, June 28, 2012
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...
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...
Friday, June 8, 2012
"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?"
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?"
Monday, May 21, 2012
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?
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?
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