Another Perspective On Shootings

Last week, I shared with an old friend that about five and a half years ago I had a spiritual awakening. We talked for a little bit about what that means, and basically I see the world these days at several levels at the same time. It’s being able to see life as I used to, while having a deeper understanding of the dynamics of everything: the why.

Just a few days ago, a mass shooting happened at my local mall. I decided to write from my new spiritual perspective, my thoughts about it. (This other blog contains posts that carry a spiritual perspective, or are posts that might be a bit dark for this blog. Once in a while, I feel the need for a shared post). Some of the ideas in this post might be new to you, so please read it with an open mind.

Remembering My Divinity

A few days ago, a man walked into our local mall (Cascade Mall, Burlington, WA), and opened fire with a rifle, killing five people. It was horrifying and scary, and because it took three hours just to clear the mall itself, while stores and buildings within a mile range were locked down, people sat in a state of panic for hours. People were afraid for their lives while this man walked free. Most people didn’t know that he had left the rifle in the mall after the shooting. But those who did know, didn’t know if he would gain access to another gun after he left the mall.

After a tense day of waiting for news of capture, we finally heard. The suspect was captured and is being held on a $2 million bail. He’s in jail.

Since the shooting, people have been gathering, sharing their grief, their sadness, their…

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School Is In Session

Now that September is here and Labor Day has passed, school is in session. Some kids started a few weeks ago, some schools started this week, and for my Little Man, school never stopped during the summer.

Our journey has never been smooth or uneventful. In fact, when it comes to educating Little Man, the current educational system has been a mixed bag. He has learned how to read, write, do math, and a bunch of other things, but the way classrooms and students are handled, was not kind to or supportive of my son in general.

Especially because of how my son is wired, he is steeped in trauma around his public school experience.

One thing it’s taken me a while to learn and even longer to really get, is that my son was born with a Christ Consciousness. What this means is, he is so in tune with other people, that if he hurts someone, he feels the hurt as if it were done to him. He is so connected with everyone, that if someone is sad or is having a tough day, he feels it and will do something to try to cheer them up, because he feels their pain. He was never a behavior problem at school. Ever.

The way my son’s classrooms have been handled are for the most part typical. If his teacher had trouble keeping the classroom quiet and keeping people still, she would dock the entire class minutes of recess. Because Little Man desperately needed recess, losing even three minutes of a fifteen minute recess, for something that was outside of his control, would kill him. Every time a classmate would be admonished for doing something like talking too much, Little Man was empathically taking the admonition too.

Some of his teachers were better than others. He seemed to do well with teachers who were the most authentic. If there was something about the teacher that was inauthentic, Little Man would smell it on them, and without fail, his year would be a bad one. Picking up on what a person was feeling, and having it be so very different from what they said and how they acted, threw him for a loop. Being in their classroom was literally killing his spirit, bit by bit.

Once I learned how to read a person’s energy (Clairvoyance 101), I read his teachers that he had trouble with, and whatever their issue was would pop out like a red flag in their energy field. One teacher had a deeply seated issue with perfection. Another one had to be right. These were so huge in these people’s energy fields, and once I saw it, certain wonky behaviors on their part made complete sense to me.

When Little Man hit puberty and his abilities to receive energy grew to epic proportions (and they’re still growing), picking up on all the middle school angst, hormones, and mixing in with kids from schools in town (who tend to be more behaviorally challenged and rougher in general), was just too much. Being so young, Little Man hasn’t formed his complete sense of energetic or personal boundaries yet. Trying to survive a system that doesn’t support him, combined with the overwhelming challenge of physically being around so many twelve and thirteen year olds, pushed him over the edge.

So now we are educating at home. With everyone else heading back to schools, this week has been anxiety provoking for both of us. In case you aren’t aware, people store trauma in their bodies. And just because Little Man no longer has to be in a school, doesn’t mean anxiety is gone. I noticed a level of anxiety in myself earlier this week and was perplexed until I figured it out. School.

But now that we’ve named it, it seems to be lessening quite a bit. In fact, Little Man had a dream last night where he was actually able to call out a teacher who was telling the class something that was wrong. And when the teacher threatened him with demerits or detention, or whatever it was she threatened him with, he walked out of the classroom under his own authority and left. He took back his own power in his dream.

What I’m learning is that educating a person can look like so many different things. It can look like sitting down and reading and writing and doing book work and worksheets. It can look like going to a museum, park, zoo, science center, or other facility. It can look like going kayaking, swimming, and watching videos online. It can look like researching a drone, working like a dog to earn money for it, buying it and then creating a project around it, demonstrating critical thinking and new nomenclature involved with the research and comparison process.

Little Man recently completed his first video project for school, where he discussed the features of DJI’s Phantom 3 Professional and Phantom 4 drones. It included his talking about specs and features of both drones, commentary about what he likes and why, demonstrating two of the features and a short bit of aerial footage. Because it’s his first production it’s a little rough around the edges, and he wouldn’t give me permission to show it off to you all (too embarrassed). But he will probably allow me to show off his next video project.

I can, however, show you the title page for the video.

For the next few weeks, we’ll be across country on the coast of Maine, and will be diving into more filming (lighthouses y’all!), doing some reading about the local area’s history, and practicing writing. I will be taking photographs and trying to get my love of writing to rub off on my son (who has challenges when it comes to writing). We’ll see how it all goes.

 

Seasons Are Beginning To Change

The weather is beginning to cool with the smell of composting leaves wafting through the air. I love this time of year; when the heat of summer has passed and the crisp chill of winter hasn’t arrived yet. Growing up, it meant new outfits, and back to school. Today it means the blueberries are gone, the blackberries are passing and the apple’s aren’t quite ready yet.

Today was a beautiful day to walk around our place. Leaves are just beginning to turn colors and drop. Here in Washington state, most of our trees don’t give us the autumn show that I grew up with in New England, but the blueberries bushes are looking spectacular.

Walking down the yard, there were a few critters enjoying the grass and the day. Because we don’t have a dog, rabbits freely inhabit our yard. And with recent rains, there is no shortage of slugs.

Our dwarf apple tree is laden with fruit still waiting to turn red. Because I haven’t tended the tree, this is one of the few apples that isn’t covered with brown spots.

At the end of our yard is a small river. Later in the fall and early winter, it becomes spawning ground for salmon. But, this time of year the water runs low with a few tiny fish swimming around.

One of my favorite views is up the yard, standing down by the river. Firs and cedars tower over our house.

Before we know it, the rains of winter will be here, complete with clouds that touch the treetops for days on end. But until that time, we still have several beautiful days to enjoy. Here’s a short video of the shallows in the river.

 

I’m Still Amazed, Every Time

When I have a hypnotherapy session, I’m still amazed and blown away every single time that it works. Stuff happens. I have no idea if it could or would work for everyone, the way it does for me. I’d always assumed that it would, but with how intense the results of the sessions have been lately, I’m not so sure anymore.

For me, being in the hypnotic state is a direct pipeline to my subconscious. It’s a way I can communicate with information that doesn’t reside in the realm that we can see, hear, or touch. It’s a way I can dive in and energetically see what’s going on underneath or behind that which is physically seen.

My conscious, monkey mind, is quiet. I focus on my hypnotherapists voice, and follow her lead. She gets me going, leading me down a path and then lets me go. Then the magic happens.

I use hypnosis as a tool to get answers and to shift energies that are no longer in resonance with me.

The other day when I met with my hypnotherapist, my intention was to “see” what was going on with my unhappy liver and gallbladder. I know that once I can see what’s going on, I can heal (change) it. Before we started the session, I mentioned that I was a little bit worried that because healing my liver and gallbladder was such a big deal to me, I might hit a lot of resistance, and not be able to see what I needed to see. I also mentioned that I knew this was just fear talking, and that I had complete faith in her large toolbox and skill set.

Because her method of hypnotherapy is soul-directed, after the initial induction (relaxation) stage, part of her process has me connecting with that part of me that is connected with my higher self; where I can have access to everything I ever needed to know about me, all of my beliefs and how they were all created, and more.

Once that connection was made, I was directed to scan my body and just notice what was going on with it. As I objectively looked at my body, my arms and legs were unremarkable, I noticed that my heart was beating a little bit faster than normal, and that fear flashed through it off and on. And I noticed that some of my internal organs were working overtime. My attention was drawn to my liver.

When I looked into why my liver was working so hard, a picture came up in my mind, and I saw a wooden handled spear that had pierced my body through and through, going right through my liver. When I looked at my body, I was dressed in a suit of armor and then a moment later, I was wearing animal skins. It was like I was seeing two different lifetimes very long ago, with the same event happening. I had been severely injured on the battlefield. I knew that I had succumbed to massive internal infection from the injury that slowly and painfully killed me.

Along with seeing pictures and having the information of what happened come forth, the feelings associated with the entire event(s) came up as well. I knew in that moment that I had fought for leaders who created war based on their egos and fears. Their ideals did not resonate with my heart. I died a painful death for ideals and values I didn’t even believe in. And could no longer do this. Carrying this energy of going against my heart was killing me and I couldn’t go against my heart again; not for one more minute. Seeing this truth brought me to tears. Buckets of tears fell in a huge emotional release.

In that moment of reclaiming my own authenticity, when I looked down at my liver, I saw the spear handle sticking out of a brown, crusted liver. At first, I was confused. But when I grabbed the wooden handle, the crust came away with the handle, much like pulling the toasted cover off a marshmallow. What was underneath was a completely revitalized, pink, healthy liver, that was very happy. I knew that I was healed. The energy of needing to be authentic to myself was finally able to be free. That which had been carried over from previous lifetimes was healed.

With that resolved, I checked in with my body, seeing the very happy liver, and noticing my gallbladder was pale and still very much not happy.

When I asked my gallbladder what was going on, I saw a large white banner with big block letters: RESISTANCE. I laughed because I fully expected to hit resistance at some point, but didn’t know when, or what it would look like. At this point, I was directed to look at Resistance and see how it was showing up (other than being a big banner). When I asked Resistance what was up, I saw a three year old version of me throwing a tantrum. She was stomping her feet and pounding her fists.

I chuckled again because little kids having a tantrum don’t faze me; they don’t get to me. She didn’t want to tell me what was going on. Then I sat down with her, reassuring her that she was safe because I could protect her now, and she let me tune into what was going on with her. I tuned into fear and other emotional pain. “She’s going to kill me.” She being my mother. “They’re killing me.” They, being anyone who had ever pushed their values, morals, or agenda on me as a little kid. I was taught to be a nice girl. Nice girls don’t do that. Be nice. Don’t do that or be that way. You might see the truth of situations, but don’t speak it.

I could see that when I was little, every time I was programmed or indoctrinated, it killed her a bit more and more. And carrying that energy was killing me bit by bit. I saw that the gallstone had been created by this little girl, and it represented her energy, trying to survive. She was certain that I was going to die, and she placed her energy into the gallstone as a way to live when I died.

Then my truth hit me. The reason all the programming and indoctrination was killing me was because I DIDN’T NEED IT. I was born with a Christened heart, embodying Christ Consciousness. Boatloads of tears fell as my truth was revealed to me. I sobbed and sobbed with this revelation and new emotional release, barely able to breathe.

Having a Christened heart, I didn’t need anyone to tell me to “be a nice little girl,” or “don’t say this or that, it’s not nice.” My own consciousness was already completely dialed into Christ, Unity, Oneness. I saw that every time someone pushed their values onto me it was done out of fear. Our society indoctrinates children to act certain ways and to speak certain ways so they will be acceptable to others.

When a child carries pure Christ Consciousness, they don’t need to be indoctrinated. They already act from their heart, from love, from a place of being aware that what they say or do to another person, they are essentially saying or doing to themselves. They are innately empathic. They are born with the golden rule of doing to others as you would have done to you, hardwired into them. They are born connected to the Divine.

Every time my mother, my parents, society told me in a thousand ways how I was supposed to be, supposed to act, supposed to talk, and it went against my heart, it was killing me. I saw my energy being crushed and twisted, time and time again.

With these new realizations ringing through me, I suddenly saw a crystalline grid completely overlay my aura, securing with a loud bang, like metal doors locking down.

I saw this grid that is pictured around Earth, surround my energy field.

As I looked at it, I saw panes of heavy clear glass with leading in between (like a stained glass window, but without colored glass). This crystalline grid of Christ Consciousness completely surrounded me, just over arms length away from my body. More tears. All of the energies I’d taken on when I was growing up, to please others or placate others, were now out of me. The only energies I carried were my own original Christ energy. I bawled so hard I could barely breathe.

The last of my mother’s energy was out of me. More tears. I caught a glimpse of her off to the side, pissed off to have been kicked out of me. Now she has to complete her own work on her own. (Yes, spirit has work to do whether they are dead or alive. Dying doesn’t exempt a person from doing their work). Our spiritual contract together is complete, finished, done, over.

I sat there feeling solid and 100% me, and nobody but me. I knew that others’ energies might come sniffing around me, trying to mess with me or jump into my energetic space, but there was absolutely no chance in hell that they could get in. In fact, the energetic vibration of my energy is so high now that most energies that tend to fuck with people, vibrate so low that they can’t even see me.

The next thing I saw was a row of silhouetted bodies that represented me in all my past lives. Crystalline grids enclosed the bodies one by one, like a series of dominoes falling. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom as each grid fully enclosed each body. My energy through time, back to my initial inception from God was all Christened and healed. Still more tears and heaving sobs as the energy shifted and flowed.

As I looked at my abdomen, I saw my energy represented as twisted and bent up paper clips, that were straightening out. All the kinks that happened to me over time by conforming to values and ideals that didn’t resonate with my heart, were straightening out. My energy was shifting before my eyes, rectifying.

When I looked at the little three-year-old, who had been so unhappy, she was now a very happy camper. She said, “Yay! The wicked witch is dead!” as she jumped up and down with joy. When I looked at my gallbladder, it was finally pink and happy. When I turned my attention to the gallstone, I saw its energy, represented as a ball, shrink before my eyes until it disappeared. Now that the little girl in me knew I would live, she didn’t need to continue to create the gallstone. I knew that, energetically, my liver and gallbladder are perfect and healed, and the reason for the stone is gone.

Because the physical body is much more dense than pure energy, it will take time for it to catch up to the healed energy. And it will. This isn’t my first rodeo doing this sort of thing. So, in the meanwhile, I follow my doctor’s protocol of dietary restrictions, vitamins and supplements, while my physical cells come into resonance with my energy body.

As a very wise friend of mind has taught me: know the truth (that I am already healed). Respect the illusion. (Respect the fact that the body takes time to reflect the shift, and don’t be stupid and stop taking medications until it’s safe to do so.)

Towards the end of the session, I looked out and saw my entire team in spirit (relatives who have passed on, guides, angels, ascended masters, etc.) in a semicircle, a crowd stretched out in front of me. They were all cheering and applauding the work I’d just done. One of my aunts, who shows up as a mother figure for me, was amazed, telling me how proud she was of me. This was the sort of thing she couldn’t do for me in life (because of my wonky mother). Everyone was definitely ready to get the party started.

After confirming that things were complete for the day, my hypnotherapist brought me back up to full consciousness. I knew that my team and a part of my self were definitely partying down in celebration. I was filled with joy and completely spent.

*                                                                        *                                                                 *

As I was doing mindless kitchen tasks, thinking about what I just wrote here, it occurred to me that if I were living in the 1700’s or earlier, this liver and gallbladder issue would have killed me. I would have ended up with a massive abdominal infection, and it would have been a slow and very painful death. Like how I died before from my battle field wound. It’s amazing what the body can recreate in order to give us opportunities to heal our stuff.

Time To Do More Healing Work

This has been a challenging summer to write. There has been a lot going on, but much of it has been hard to write about, only because I’m still figuring it all out. I’ve tried to write several times, but I don’t know what to say, so I’ll just blurt out what’s been happening lately. God I hate being cryptic, so here goes.

About a month ago, my gallbladder started acting up in a big way. I experienced a handful of times when the stabbing pain was almost too much. And every time I ate something, it sat in my stomach like a rock and it felt like someone was inflating a beach ball in my abdomen.

Finally, I went to my regular naturopathic doctor (who was not available, so I saw another doc in the clinic), and an ultrasound was ordered. In the meanwhile, it was recommended that I use castor oil packs on my abdomen every day or two.

Two days later, still in considerable misery, I went to a different naturopathic doctor who is also a chiropractor and an intuitive healer, because he’s been working on my cranky shoulder. When I sat down in his office, I told him all about my gallbladder, and he used his applied kinesiology skills to diagnose that yes, my gallbladder was the issues, and he immediately prescribed a few supplements and vitamins to help my system handle food better. He also tested me for food allergies and put me on a diet that would support my gallbladder’s healing. Basically, I’ve been eating veggies (heavy on the beets), fruits, lean chicken and turkey, and a little bit of quinoa. Period.

He explained that a gallbladder can have stones in it for years, but when the bile that is pumped out becomes thick, this is when trouble starts. (The liver makes bile that goes to the gallbladder. Then the gallbladder pumps it into our digestive tract to digest fats). So, one of the goals is to get the bile thinned out again.

Within days there was a noticeable difference in how I felt. The ultrasound showed one very large gallstone, and a slightly enlarged liver. Blood tests have all come back showing great numbers, so there is no liver disease or sign of infection. There was nothing in my blood work to explain why my liver is enlarged or why the bile has become thick.

After receiving the ultrasound results, the doc who is treating me put me on his “liver treatment” plan, prescribing a few more supplements and vitamins to help support the liver. One thing he told me was that other doctors would try to talk me into having my gallbladder out. I can still hear his words ringing in my head, “Don’t let them take out your gallbladder.”

Because there is no obvious physical disease going on, I’ll be looking into the whole thing using hypnosis tomorrow.

I finally had an appointment to check in with my regular doctor. The only treatment plan her office offered me – other than using castor oil packs – was to see a gastroenterologist (who would want to remove my gallbladder). I guess she never got the training “how to save an unhappy gallbladder.” I calmly and politely told her that no thank you, I will not see a gastroenterologist as long as the treatment I’m using is working (and it is).

The fact is, many people walk around with gallstones every day with no problem. The stone I have probably took years to get to its present size. And it will take time to dissolve (yes, it can dissolve). Of course, if an infection were going on, or if my stone were stuck in some duct (which would cause excruciating pain), it would have to come out. But these things aren’t the case.

It’s now been three weeks of eating for my health, and taking a bunch of supplements and vitamins, and I’m feeling better and better. I’ve also been receiving acupuncture treatments, that have been helping too.

Why did this all happen, and why now? I have some theories, but I’ll reserve comment until I can look into it further in hypnosis.

Just know that with proper support to the body, a gallbladder can heal. It can also become cranky again over time, but I have a secret weapon that can take care of it for good: energy healing. Remember, the body is designed to heal itself.

I Think We’re Gonna Make It

For those who are new or fairly new to my blog, this past winter, my 13 yr. old son, Little Man had a grade A, first-rate, complete and total anxiety fueled melt down. His anxiety reached such epic proportions that he became locked in a perpetual panic attack and he shut down. I had lost my son to his brain.

For several weeks I thought he was sick with a mystery bug. Finally, after almost a month, he was able to tell me what was going on; that he was experiencing severe panic attacks. The day he fessed up, I realized that as much as I’d tried to push him to figure out how to deal with his anxiety around school, taking him to a few different therapists, I now had to do what I’d dreaded for the past three plus years: pull him out of school and homeschool him. Just over half way through seventh grade.

Things had become too intolerable. It was as plain as day to me that if I didn’t pull him out of school, there was a very good possibility that I would completely lose him; to where he would never come back. Whether that would look like his taking his life, or merely becoming catatonic, I don’t know. But I knew he would leave.

At that point, I thought that within days of pulling him out of our local public school system, his anxiety would magically disappear, and I would be able to either enroll him in an online public school, or begin a homeschooling curriculum.

Well, the anxiety didn’t go away, and hung on just as tenaciously as when he was still enrolled in public school. What I ended up finding is a local independent learning situation, technically a private school, where we meet with a teacher once a week, and talk about what was done at home during the week. We would decide about curriculum when Little Man was able to handle it. At first, I could barely get Little Man to even talk at these meetings. He was still experiencing severe anxiety and panic attacks.

All this while, we were working with a new doctor (a naturopathic doctor, chiropractor and intuitive healer), who determined that Little Man had some physical health challenges, as well as the emotional challenge of severe anxiety. We had to make dietary changes, including eliminating gluten, dairy, and a few other foods. And, vitamins and supplements were added. After about four months, his physical issues were almost all back to “normal,” and his emotional health was much improved. Little Man is no longer a prisoner in his room, and if he experiences anxiety, it usually doesn’t go on for hours and doesn’t often roll into a panic attack. Yes, there are some tough days, but overall, things are a lot better.

During the first few months when I lost him, it was some of the scariest times of my life as a mother. Every day I white knuckled it. I put my faith in Little Man’s new doctor, and we are seeing progress. What I particularly appreciate about this doctor, other than his intuitive skills and medical training, is that when I spoke up and said that we needed more help with Little Man’s anxiety, he came up with a supplement that made a difference. And as we go along, I know that if Little Man needs even more help, there will be options to explore.

All of this time, Little Man has been learning about his own mental health and how his physical health affects his mental health. Low blood sugar can bring on anxiety while his body is healing. And he’s been learning all about eating for his health (eliminating foods that have damaged his body over time). He’s gone through some very tough and some very dark times, with the worst of it behind us (I sincerely hope).

As time goes on, Little Man will learn more skills to help him live with a brain that tends to experience anxiety, and will learn how food affects his body and brain. He’s already had quite the crash course.

As for “school,” he’s been deschooling: the process of adjusting to the non-school environment of everyday life after leaving the education system. Because Little Man associated so much trauma with being in school, we’ve spent the past few months just living and waiting for my son to come back. Yes, we’ve been meeting with his teacher weekly, but he hasn’t been forced to do traditional book work.

With the pressure of “school” off our backs, we have the luxury of time. Time to allow Little Man’s body to heal, and happen as it needs to happen. For so many people, in our fast-paced world, with mandatory attendance of public school, they feel their only option is to find “the right” medication that takes the edge off their child’s mental-emotional problems, so they can go to school every day. And that helps some people. But I didn’t feel that was the best course of action for Little Man, because of his extreme sensitivity. (When he was in fourth grade, we did a medication trial with ADHD drugs, with horrible side effects).

Too often, taking a medication that masks things like anxiety, does just that: masks. They allow a person to feel better and to function in our world. But they do not address why the anxiety was there in the first place. Because of that, I wanted to leave medication as a last resort. I have not ruled it out, but I haven’t felt the need to explore pharmaceuticals yet.

Having a mother who was bi-polar and who depended on medication for her sanity, I very much appreciate what pharmaceutical drugs can do for a brain. And watching my mother’s battle with medications and her sanity, and watching her lose her life to her mental illness, despite several medication changes, I know that there is only so much a medication can do for a person’s brain. I have come to believe that mental illness is as much an illness of the spirit, as it is one of the physical body.

With all of the changes Little Man has made over the past few months, he is doing better and better.

The other week, at our weekly meeting with Little Man’s teacher, I brought up the question of how a person moves from deschooling into something that looks more like schooling, without sending my kiddo back over the edge. With our local public schools starting up again in about a month, I could anticipate Little Man’s anxiety starting to ramp up over the next few weeks, in fear of what he would have to do this fall to be considered in a “learning” situation.

We’ve been telling him all along that he’s been learning; learning a lot about his body and how to take care of himself. That in and of itself has been huge. But allowing Little Man’s education to be 100% child-led isn’t something I feel comfortable with right now because of his historically wanting to avoid subjects that are a challenge for him (reading, writing, math), with his learning disabilities.

After chatting with his teacher, she brought up the idea of having him create a project around something he’s very interested in. He will choose the topic and what the project will be. He will decide how he’ll present the topic at the end of the month, and what the presentation will entail. Because he’s been obsessed with flying his drone for the past few months, he decided that his project will have something to do with the drone. Part of the presentation will be written (because he needs to practice writing), part will likely include a video he will create, and it will be orally presented as well.

Having several weeks to get this all put together (maintaining our weekly meeting with his teacher) will get Little Man back in the game of “school” and it will get his mind wrapped around a new way of what school and learning can look like.

The beauty of it all, is Little Man is on a new path. His body is getting healthier every day. His mental health is improving. And with his teacher being our guide, we’re both learning what “an education” can look like. One thing it will not look like is sitting down for six hours a day doing book work, being quiet, and living in fear of breaking a rule.

Over the past few months, with so many kids around us receiving certificates, plaques, and awards for end of year academic achievement, others graduating and going off to four year universities, and several going to proms, I started thinking about how my son will never stand up in front of his class and be recognized for academic achievement, and he’ll never have the prom experience, and from where I sit right now, he might never go to a four year university. I started to get pretty bummed out and a bit jealous. I kept comparing Little Man’s life to the experiences I had when I grew up (traditional public school and academic success), and comparing him to other people around us.

I kept thinking how unfair it is that my son has to deal with a brain that thinks and learns so differently from most. I was sad that he doesn’t get the same pleasure from reading that I do, and that he doesn’t enjoy the process of putting word to paper. And I was sad that my son’s brain puts him into states of anxiety and panic when his life isn’t actually being threatened; that his brain can hold him hostage. I was sad that he’s had so many challenges in his young life that many of his peers will never have to deal with.

Then I saw a spark in my son that I didn’t know I’d ever see. He got excited about doing his project for school. He was actually enthusiastic about school looking like projects, and holy crap! he became interested to learn.

I have to remember that despite my son’s challenges in life, he has some amazing gifts as well. And the gifts that he possesses are not things that can be taught through any type of therapy or school. His boundless creativity, out-of-the-box way of problem solving, and his amazing intuition and empathy are part of who he is, part of how he’s wired. The areas where he struggles in academia are things that can be improved upon, and assisted with technology. But his gifts will carry him far in life. He might not grow up to become a writer or a college professor, but I know that’s he’s going to do something amazing, most likely in the realm of transportation.

I’m now excited to see where he’ll end up, no longer confined by rigid education standards set by someone who clearly didn’t design them for my son and the way he learns and thinks. I see that my passion for learning, collecting and analyzing information, and reassembling it into something useful for me, is similar in its intensity to my son’s passion to create. When his attention is grabbed, there is no stopping him. I love to see the spark of creation in my son, explode into an inferno.

I fully expect there will be more bumps in the road, but at least from where I sit right now, I think we’re gonna make it.

 

A Pre-Birth Plan With a Manic-Depressive Mother?

Children are not innocent and are never victims. We tend to see children who suffer through terrible hardships as victims. The paradox is, they, as a soul, have lived many lives and specifically chose these experiences for the purpose of soul growth. Growth is often painful. Helping me to heal my own childhood, I wrote a question to The Council (a group of wise non-physical beings who dispenses counsel) and here is their reply. The audio provides The Council’s advice as it was given, channeled by Cynthia.

Ask The Council

This post is inspired by questions from a reader named Susan about her and her mother’s pre-birth spiritual plan for this lifetime. Susan says her relationship with her mother was often painful, especially when she was younger, because her mother was a bi-polar manic-depressive. And she asks why didn’t family members step in to protect her.

The Council says Susan planned it this way. And her planning comes from another life she and her mother shared as orphan boys living on the streets and stealing to survive, maybe around the early 1800s. They both experienced a lot of violence and hate in that lifetime with no understanding and no love, just a will to survive.

When they both left that reality, as spirits they thought it would’ve been good if they learned how to forgive and understand. And so they decided to create this life together where her mother would be harsh and she would experience a desire to care for her and…

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How Do You Handle Life’s “Holy Shit!” Moments?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how people handle moments in life that you don’t expect; the ones that sneak up from behind and whack you over the head with a two-by-four. Or moments that you see coming, fiercely denying their eventual arrival.

I’ve had a handful of those moments; some I knew would hit me one day, and I totally dreaded them, and some I never saw coming.

How were they handled? Well, when I was young, I basically took a back seat and let life drive right over me, squashing me along the way.

I see some adults handle things this way, taking a victim stance. Giving up any and every bit of power they have, believing they have no option other than to roll over and let life do to them.

These days, I’m in the driver’s seat. Sure, I might have a few days of panic and freak-out, but I have a new trust in the Universe. A trust that I can find answers and solutions, and that things will eventually work out. Where does this trust come from? It came from learning to trust my intuition.

We all have it, intuition, but just what is it?

It’s the connection to information that is beyond your five senses. It’s when you allow your spirit guides, guardian angels, and other protective and guiding beings in spirit, and God communicate to you. Well, truth be told, they communicate with us all the time, but we often don’t listen or trust what we get.

How do you recognize intuition?

It’s that gut feeling. It’s the synchronistic events in your life. It’s the impulse to take a different route home, that ends up keeping you safe. It’s the whisper in the back of your head that tells you to go right, when logic tells you to go left. It’s the messages you get from your heart.

As well as trusting my intuition, I trust that when I need information, it will come to me (or I’ll find it). Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.

As I’ve asked, answers have come. And I ask a lot of questions. As I’ve looked for guidance, it has arrived. Information comes to me. I sift through what comes, and use a combination of my rational and reasoning mind, with my feeling heart, to see what’s right for me.

And finally, I trust in grace. For me, grace is taking a step back so that the highest good can drop in. It’s about knowing that I’m not ultimately in control. Sure, I’m a very powerful being, but there is only so much I can control, and only so much I should control. I am, however, still working on having patience for grace to show up sometimes; but we’re all a work in progress, aren’t we?

My Guardian Angel

Last month I spent several weeks away from home, visiting with a dear friend. One of the special things about my friend is that she and I have been sisters in several lifetimes. During a past life regression hypnosis session, I saw part of one of those lifetimes. We share a connection that transcends this lifetime, as soul sisters.

Another special thing about my friend is that she was born with a defect of sorts. The veil that prevents most people from being able to see energy and allows people to live in the 3D world, unable to see beyond it to the world of spirit, didn’t fall for her as she was born. She remains connected to spirit, able to see and hear beings and entities that most people can’t. When she looks at a person, she sees their spirit, their soul energy. She can hear, see, and feel energy and spirit.

One evening, when we were sitting, chatting, she turned to me and mentioned that she had seen a dead person following me around lately, and she wondered who it was. As far as I know, I have never seen spirits or dead people (except for capturing them with a camera), and I told her I had no idea who it was, and asked her to describe them.

She tuned into a boy and asked me if I had lost a friend when I was young. I thought for a minute, and the only person I could think of who died when I was young, was a classmate when I was in eighth grade.

During the Storm of ’78 in New England, the Boston area had a record snowfall of over 27″ in two days of early February. We missed a week of school, and I remember sledding down our street and cross-country skiing uptown to the little grocery store, bringing home bags of groceries in a red plastic sled. I also remember the towering snow banks that were created as the streets were finally plowed.

The story I was told was that my classmate was standing on a snow bank and slipped off into the path of an oncoming car. Danny was run over and died two days later. We all went to his viewing, and it was the first time I’d ever seen someone who was dead.

What I didn’t know was that on a spiritual level, I witnessed his death. No, I didn’t see him die with my eyes, but my spirit acknowledged his death. In doing this, he became a guardian angel for me, keeping me safe from people who wanted to harm me, with whom I did not have a soul contract. Apparently, Danny’s and my soul made an agreement for this before we both were born.

As we tried to figure out times that Danny had helped me, my girlfriend tuned into a time when I had been working on a ship. She asked me if I’d ever had a guy interested in me. When you’re either the only civilian female on a ship, or nearly the only civilian female on a ship, there is a likelihood of someone being interested. I racked my brain, and couldn’t narrow things down.

I asked my girlfriend if it was on a ship in the Mediterranean, or elsewhere in the world. Other than being on my school ship, I was only on one ship in the Mediterranean, so this could narrow things down considerably. Yes. She saw that the ship was in the Med. Then she asked me if there was someone who was interested in me who was weird. I racked my brain a bit more and then it hit me. Yes!

When I was a cadet on a ship that worked in the Mediterranean, there was a guy who worked in the Steward Department who had a thing for me. I was cordial to him, but never led him on, as he was most definitely not my type, and I wasn’t even looking for companionship at that point in my life. I was doing an internship to earn sea days. All I wanted was to do my time, work on my project for school, and get home.

For some reason, when I was given my room assignment on the ship (a private room, with a private bathroom – officer’s quarters), I was not given a room key. Because of my ignorance and a lack of organization on the ship’s part, I didn’t know I should have been given one, so my room was never locked.

One night, I didn’t make it back to my room, and when I went in the next morning, I could see that someone had been in my bed, and it wasn’t me. Apparently, Danny intervened, keeping me out of my room that night. Keeping me safe.

My girlfriend told me that yes, the weird guy was in my room, and there was a strong likelihood that he would have harmed me. I told my watch officer about the weird guy, and that I thought he’d been in my bed. My watch officer spoke with the head of the Steward Department, and the next thing I knew, the weird guy literally turned and ran away from me any time he saw me. Apparently, whatever he was told, sufficiently scared him and kept him away from me for the rest of my 2 months on that ship. And I finally got a room key.

One other time I could think of, when someone intervened to keep me safe was when my ship was tied up in downtown Seattle. I recounted the story to my girlfriend and she saw that yes, once again, Danny had been looking out for me.

I was about to be relieved of duty from my ship, after more than six months on it (with no days off!). So my last night on board, I joined a group of shipmates who walked to a waterfront establishment to celebrate a birthday. We were all drinking and partying it up. Eventually, I realized that I’d had more than enough to drink, and it would be prudent for me to get back to the ship and get to bed. As I walked alone, back towards the cruise ship docks and my ship, all of a sudden a police car pulled up right beside me, stopping quickly.

A Seattle police officer jumped out of his cruiser, apologizing for startling me. He then pointed to a man about fifteen feet away, saying that he’d seen the guy looking at me and walking towards me, and was concerned for my safety. The officer had driven his cruiser between the man and me. I was completely oblivious and quite stunned (and very grateful). The officer offered me a ride back to my ship (when I explained that I was walking back to my ship), which I stupidly declined. Yes, I was stupid drunk. I was embarrassed at being drunk and didn’t want to show up to the gangway in a police car.

Fortunately, Danny kept me safe then and on the rest of the walk back to the ship. Yes, spirit can orchestrate enlisting people to help when they need it.

Now that I’m an old married woman, Danny’s duties around keeping me safe in situations like these aren’t really needed any longer. But my friend said he comes now and then to send me love.

We each have at least one guardian angel who is indeed an angel, who has never incarnated as human, and who stays us during our lives. But this was the first time I’d been aware of my having a guardian who helps look out for me with more “human” endeavors. Having recently experienced life as human, these special guardians can relate to us, and help us out, especially if we make less than stellar decisions that might get us into trouble.

Thank you Danny for looking out for me and for loving me.

 

 

 

I Am A Privileged White Woman

With all of the killing going on lately in the US, and abroad, I realize that I am a privileged white woman. Despite the fact that I experienced abuse by my family growing up, my heritage is from the UK and Europe, and my skin is the color of privilege in my country.

I did not grow up poor. We lived in a middle class neighborhood with single family houses on almost an acre apiece. The public school system I attended was very highly rated. And we went on vacations every summer. Playing in my neighborhood as a child, I felt generally safe.

The very few times I’ve been pulled over by police, I haven’t worried about my personal safety. When I walk around in stores that sell expensive items, I don’t feel eyes following me, or worry about being profiled as a shoplifter. I don’t worry about people being afraid of me because of the clothes I wear.

When people see me in public, I tend to be pretty much invisible because I look very generic, dressed in my mom-jeans and colored t-shirts, with my uncolored gray hair usually pulled back into a pony tail. My middle aged appearance and uncovered head does not inspire fear.

I am a privileged white woman.

Was I bullied as a kid? Yes. Have I ever been homeless? Yes. Have I experienced sexism? Sure. Have I experienced racism? Yes. But is that my every day normal? No. Is it what I focus on or expect to experience day-to-day? No.

Do I worry when I walk down the street that someone might be gunning for me? No.

I can only imagine what it’s like to be a young, non-white man living in the inner city in this country. From my few experiences of being looked down on and being dismissed because of the color of my skin and my sex, I can only imagine what it’s like to be judged solely on how I look, what I wear, or how I walk, every single day. What does it do to a person’s psyche when they are constantly judged wrongly? What does it do to a person when they are constantly living on the defense? When they are not seen as the true person that they are inside? (I ask these questions for any group who is misperceived).

With everything that’s been going on lately, what’s a person to do when the country around them is exploding in hate and divisiveness? Will it help if I feel badly for everyone who is suffering? Will it help if I get down into the muck and mire, or climb up on a cross? Will it help to focus on the hurt, pain, and death?

One thing I know for sure is that rising up in protest is NOT the answer. Rising up against anything is NOT the answer.

What will make a difference is to remember our common unity (community): our shared humanity. We all hurt and we all bleed red.  But more than anything, we each want to be seen and heard for who we are. We all want to matter. We need heart-felt connection. We need to rise up, arm in arm in solidarity and remember our humanity.

As individuals, we each want to have good lives. Those of us with families want our children to grow up to be helpful, productive members of society. At least most of us. I don’t personally know anyone who doesn’t want their children to have a life as least as good as, if not better than their own.

Obviously there are a few select groups that live to destabilize our society. They want nothing more than to see us all live in fear. Fear of death. Fear of losing our loved ones. Fearing for our safety and security. They want us to strike out at each other. They want our economy and society to be as unstable and disconnected as their hearts are.

I, for one, am not going to let that happen. At least not in my life.

From the 30,000 ft. view, I see all of this instability as a huge opportunity for people to make a decision: will you choose to live in anger and fear, or will you make decisions through your heart? This is going on throughout the entire planet. Eons of energies that have been trapped in Mother Earth are rising up, being acted out by individuals and groups, so that we have an opportunity to transmute them with love. It’s as complicated and as simple as that. As within, so without. As above, so below.

I have been doing this work on an individual level for the past few years, and now it’s the collective’s turn to follow suit.

It’s time for everyone to remember that we all spring forth from the same singular energy. It is this energy that beats each of our hearts. It’s this energy that creates miracles. It’s with this energy that we create our lives, each one a miracle. As much as we feel separate and different from each other, at our core we are unified. We are individual facets, unique expressions of the One.

In case you don’t fully understand, we are more than symbolically One. If the left side of your brain shuts down, you will be able to perceive this Oneness, where you literally won’t be able to see where you end and a wall begins. It’s only through our having a left brain that we perceive ourselves as separate from each other, when in fact, we are not.

I call this singular energy of creation, love. That word doesn’t do the feeling justice, but it’s the closest I have. I tell you about the power of love, not because it’s some fluffy, woo woo, New Age, trite, au courant thing to say, but because this is part of my truth. I have seen the energy of love in action in my own life. I know the incredible power we all hold in our hearts. Love is the one energy that can transmute hate, fear, anger, sadness, judgment, apathy, and disease. It heals like no other energy I know.

It’s time for everyone to remember the awesome power you each have.

When a tragedy happens and your heart breaks, cry. Wail. Let the sadness flow through. And when you can, get back up on your horse and ride. Open your heart again and let compassion rain down on the world. It’s critical to crank that heart open again. It’s actually designed to break and then open. Break again, and then open again. Our hearts are like parachutes: they function best when open.

A metaphysical fact to help you get through our recent tough times: people make soul agreements before they incarnate into physical bodies. They make plans with other souls. And sometimes these plans include becoming victims of murder and terrorist bombings. Other times these plans include being murders or terrorists. These are not random acts.

Something else to keep in mind is that mass media focuses only on a very tiny slice of what’s going on in the world and in our country. And the more sensational the story, the more inflammatory, divisive, and outrageous the reporting, the more attention and thus money, the media outlet will get. Do not fall for the idea that violence is random, is commonplace, and is going happen to you.

I am a not only a privileged white woman, but I’m a woman who has been on the planet for over five decades, and has experienced more than her fair share of shit raining down on her. I could very easily decide to sit in the victim chair, be a martyr, and demand that the world feel sorry for me. But I had help in remembering the extraordinary and powerful being that I am. And I ask each of you to do the same. Remember that you each hold a very special and life changing super power in your heart: LOVE.

Keep your hearts open and use them.