Who Am I?

Who I am is never a question that’s bothered me. It’s never been something I’ve sat and pondered or worried about because I always had an answer.

If you’d asked me who I was when I was a girl, I’d have said my name. Later on, I might have added that I’m a girl. And as I grew up I would have added more and more qualifiers. I’m a student, a musician, and a friend. And as an adult, I thought of myself as what I did for a living. I’m a merchant mariner. I’m a wife and mother. That’s what we do. Every way we categorize ourselves is who we are.

And then I began to have metaphysical experiences that took me beyond labels. I experienced the incredible strength, power, and unconditional love that is my higher self; my direct connection to Universal Source, a.k.a. God.

During hypnotic regression, I experienced myself in other lifetimes. I’ve been not only female but male as well. And not only white, but black, and other colors in-between. And I even saw a lifetime when I was a reptile, a six-foot-long lizard.

So, even though I’m a woman, I’ve been a man. Even though I’m a human being, I’ve been a reptile.

Years ago, when I first began to get into healing work, when I’d say affirmations like, “I’m beautiful and powerful,” there would be an immediate internal pushback. A voice that quickly replied, “Bullshit.” So, I wasn’t beautiful, or powerful, or close to perfect in any way.

And as I worked on healing a host of emotional triggers in my life, I met the voice. The one who was always so negative and unhappy. I had no idea she was my orphaned inner child, and I had no idea the purpose she served. As we met during healing sessions and I heard her story of woe fueled by beliefs she created, I not only learned to appreciate her brilliance, but I helped her let go of her stories and beliefs. The ones that kept her trapped in misery.

As my inner child became happy, something very unexpected happened: so did I. As she began to know herself as sparkly, beautiful, clever, a survivor, amazing, and perfect, so did I.

And one day, my inner child flipped the tables on me and began to know herself as part of God. She recognized herself in the bigger picture of life. The drop of water in an ocean. The gold thread in the tapestry of life. The expression of life that is so very necessary and valued simply because she’s here. And so do I.

Who am I? I’m the eternal spirit, informed by lifetimes as different expressions of beings, currently playing the part of a middle-aged female who wears a lot of hats, and who loves to learn and write. I’ve got lots of stories to tell, but I’m not my story. I’m so very much more.

Posted in Spirituality, The Voyage | Tagged , , | 8 Comments


It’s been a while, and I’ve tried to write a post several times but they end up as drafts, not fully formed. My Kundalini awakening process is still affecting me profoundly every day, making life feel very difficult much of the time. However, progress is being made, even when it often feels like a snail’s pace.

My writing desk sits next to a large window that faces west, and whenever I catch a colorful sunset, I can’t resist. So here are a few colorful sunsets from the back yard. Enjoy.

Sunset Fire

sunset fire

Pink and Blue Sky

orange sky

colorful clouds

These were all taken standing just outside our door. And the last 2 were from the same evening, several minutes apart. The only editing done was cropping. No color alteration has been made. If you want to make your sunset photos a bit more dramatic, take your camera out of automatic and underexpose the pictures a stop or two.

Sunset glory!


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Karma’s a Bitch

This Mother’s Day, I’ve been thinking about my relationship with Mom. She was a beautiful woman who was also a talented concert violinist. She married a doctor, had three kids and lived a good life. At least, that’s the way it looked from the outside. What most people didn’t see, and many still don’t know, was, she struggled with her mental health.

Mom as a bride

Mom, the happy bride.

She began to see a psychiatrist in her very late twenties, around the time she and my Dad got together, thinking therapy could fix her and she’d be ok going forward. But that’s not how it went. For over twenty years, she was psychoanalyzed, and even given a diagnosis of Manic Depressive Disorder, these days called Bipolar Disorder. It made her life difficult at times. Very difficult. Finally, when she was about fifty, in a state of hypermania, mom was hospitalized and finally medicated.

It took a severe crisis for her to get the help she’d needed for most of her life. Medication, in conjunction with continued therapy, made all the difference. Unfortunately, I was only home for two more years before graduating from high school and going out on my own. By the time my formative years were over, I’d only known a mother who zigged and zagged, up and down between depression and mania, with interludes of being stable.

As an adult, I never thought much about my first 10-12 years of life because there was nothing to remember. Not very many specific memories to recall. But when Mom started spinning out, around my junior high school years, I remember her getting drunk late at night in the kitchen, waking me with her sobs. And I remember Dad moving out, believing he was the cause of her pain. I remember being left with a parent I didn’t want to live with. And I remember pleading with my father, for him to stay and for her to move out. “Mothers stay with their children,” was his response. I was devastated.

What my father didn’t clearly see or understand was my mother’s treatment of me when she was manic. She’d attack me with her words. Like a razor cutting me down. When I was disobedient, wanting to do something other than what my mother dictated, she’d attack. When I exerted my will, instead of being able to see I was a child with a child’s maturity or a teen who was growing independence, she sliced and diced me. I got good at reading her moods, doing what I thought she wanted me to do and saying what I thought she wanted me to say, lest I unleash the dragon. The tone of her voice or how she moved, tipped me off. It helped me hone my ear. I can hear people’s moods, intent, and whether they’re being authentic by the tone of their voice.

The thing is, she never went after either of my brothers, just me. Something about their being boys made them different from me. Special.

After Dad passed away in early 2012, my mother’s mental health tanked. She couldn’t even begin to process the grief of the loss, and her brain ramped up into mania faster than I’d ever seen, even on medication. Despite all attempts to get her help, she ended up being hospitalized when she became a danger to herself.

Teaching moment for all social workers in mental hospitals: don’t ever tell a patient’s family that you usually like to get people treated before they get this bad, without asking the family what they’ve been trying to do for the weeks leading up to hospitalization. When an adult refuses medication, the law stipulates that they can’t be forced to take any medication unless they are a danger to themselves or others. Hypermania is a bitch.

About this time, I was listening to a radio program called Ask Sara With (Psychic) Sara Wiseman. Being about a year into a spiritual awakening, my interests leaned toward energy healing and clairvoyance, and I decided to call into the program to glean some higher wisdom around why my mother attacked me when she was manic.

When Sara tuned into my situation, the first thing she saw was that it wasn’t personal. Then she told me she saw that something happened to my mother when she was little, and the next time I meditated, I should focus on this. Coincidentally, I was trying to develop a meditation practice, so I did as she suggested.

About five minutes into a fifteen-minute meditation, I suddenly remembered and focused on my mother when she was a little girl. I pretended I was her as a young girl and asked to see what happened. Before I knew it, I saw a scene of my grandmother going off on my mother, ripping her a new one. Just like my mom did to me.

Holy smokes! She went through the same thing!

In a flash, I saw that my grandmother also went through the same treatment from her mother. I don’t know much about that side of the family, but my mother told me once that her mother wasn’t quite right. I don’t know if she also had mental illness, or a personality disorder, or what.

A second later, I saw that my great grandmother and her mother had the same dynamic, and this was a chain that went back several generations; about seven or so that I was aware of. An energetic pattern of action and reaction passed down from mother to daughter. Mother-daughter wounding. Karma.

That was the beginning of not only understanding what was going on but healing it. As soon as I understood, feeling great empathy for everyone, I sat in my heart and asked every healing Being I could think of to come into my heart and heal the chain. I sat and waited until I was flooded with emotion, crying as the energy that had been trapped in an endless cycle was finally freed. Dissolved. Transmuted back into pure Source Energy.

A few days later, I spoke with my mother, who was still hospitalized higher than a kite and very delusional, and I purposely pushed a few of her buttons just to see what would happen. Instead of getting my head ripped off, as I expected, there was a slight hesitation and no attack. No anger. No venom. Her trigger had been deactivated. It was miraculous!

Not only did she never attack me again for the rest of her life, but a physical problem she’d been dealing with for a decade suddenly and inexplicably healed as well. Healing mental/emotional problems affects our bodies positively as well.

People usually think about Karma as this painful consequence that’s going to sneak up on a person and cause harm if they’ve caused harm. It’s very loosely true; what I think of as the very simplified, “kindergarten” perspective. When in fact, it’s much deeper and complex.

Painful experiences like these are chosen from our soul’s perspective, to give us opportunities to grow. Instead of blindly reacting, again and again, we can do something different. It’s not always easy to choose something different because it’s human nature to simply react. But doing healing work makes change easy by dissolving pain and all forms of inner resistance in our lives. You can make soul growth easy.

Posted in Holistic Healing, Spirituality, The Voyage | Tagged , , , , | 12 Comments


I know, it’s not February. It’s not Valentine’s Day. But I’ve been thinking about love. The love we grow up with, and how love changes as we age. How we see it differently as we mature from kids and teens into adults with committed relationships and families. When I was a kid, I loved animals. We had a few different furry pets and eventually got a dog. Dogs are always happy to see you. It’s easy to love a dog.

I was one of those kids who had a crush on pretty much any boy who was nice to me for more than two seconds, or who was cute. Yup. Full on crush. One of those, “please notice me or I’m going to die,” type things. I thought I struck pay dirt when one boy wanted to give me a knuckle sandwich.

Oh goody! He wants to eat lunch with me!

My older brother had to explain that this wasn’t a good thing. I was five.

I didn’t fare much better in middle school, still crushing from time to time, and in fact, true love didn’t finally come calling until partway through college. It was amazing and lasted over three years.

One of the things about love is, as much as it lifts us up, sending us soaring above the clouds, eventually we come down. It’s nature. What goes up must come down.

Sometimes love hurts. And sometimes when we love someone, we hurt them. Not on purpose, but it happens. Especially with our kids. They always seem to want to do what they want to do, not what we need them to do. And it’s the job of a parent to raise a child so they can survive in the world, make a living, and take care of themselves. Because one day, we won’t be there to do things for them. That’s love.

We have to raise our children so they can survive in a dog eat dog world.

Most of us remember our first heartaches when we broke up with our steady guy or gal, whether it was in middle school, high school, or college. Or when our love was rebuffed in the first place.

I was such a love junkie. Falling for some guy who didn’t know I was alive, and mooning over him. Or the time I found out that the guy I’d been crushing on for most of summer camp, liked me back, two days before camp ended. I cried until I fell asleep during the car ride home. And waited by the mailbox for a letter, flying high when one came, then anxiously awaiting a reply to the one I’d immediately send. Eventually, the letters stopped coming. I was twelve. Oh, the heartache!

Years later during my wedding ceremony, we included readings from Corinthians in the Bible that talk about love being kind, patient, and blind. About it protecting, having hope, trusting, and persevering. This religious sort of love sounded really nice. Something to aspire to. But it’s not always realistic, is it?

We all get jealous and get angry at our spouses. We all get sick and tired of this or that, especially when we’re sick or tired. We end up in fights, lashing out at those closest to us: family. We hurt them and they hurt us the deepest.

We love them the deepest and would walk through fire for them. We’d even die for them.

I never experienced this depth of love until the day my toddler ran full tilt toward the street, and I suddenly saw a big SUV come around a corner, barreling down the country road. Time slowed down, and I not only calculated that I wouldn’t be able to get to my son before he got to the road but because of a row of bushes, the driver wouldn’t see my son until they were feet from him, too close to stop. I calculated getting there in time to push him out of the way and take the brunt of the hit. I might break a few bones, but I had a much better chance than my toddler. I’d even die for him.

Fortunately, the SUV turned into a driveway just before it would have hit my son, and all was well. Other than me being a sobbing mess for a little while.

When I began to work on myself, using hypnotherapy, I began to experience a different sort of love. I had experiences of unconditional love. Of spiritual love. I saw scenes from my past when I wasn’t treated lovingly but thought it was love because it came from a family member. We all believe that love sometimes hurts, but I learned that’s not love. At least it’s not spiritual love. It’s what I now refer to as human love. A real mixed bag of emotions. In spiritual terms, what we call human love is actually attachment. An energetic bond or connection.

The love I began to not only feel but to embody, session by session, doesn’t judge, isn’t jealous, doesn’t lose hope, has all the patience and faith in the world, and accepts me exactly as I am, warts and all.

The love I experienced was unconditional beyond words. Accepting me, everything I do and everything I am, without any conditions. It was overwhelming at times, leaving me in tears. And it didn’t take too many experiences for me to know it’s what we are at our core.

As I dove into healing work, uncovering and dissolving root causes of all sorts of discontent in my life, session after session reunited me with bits and pieces of my inner child. The one who was hurt by love when she was little. The one who was clever enough to figure out how to survive. The one who waited for me to go back in time and save her.

I witnessed these parts of myself, kept separate for decades, come back into my heart. Come back to love. And I saw them morph from scared and sad little girls into joyful children. Who morphed again as they aged right before my eyes. Eventually rejoining me at my present age. Bringing that joy back into my heart. Bringing unconditional love back to me.

What I never knew when I grew up, was real love doesn’t hurt. And if I’m feeling hurt and not feeling loved, it’s because there’s something deep within me blocking the flow of love. Doing healing work changes us from the inside out, letting go of things that no longer serve us, so we can walk in the world with more inner peace, flow, patience, understanding, grace, wisdom, and most importantly, love.


Posted in Holistic Healing, Spirituality | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Big Plans

They stood, in their long robes, looking at the display, a glass dome arcing over what seemed like a round coffee table. Running scenario after scenario, playing with all sorts of possible outcomes.

“The last time I worked on that, it was too hard, and I ended up taking my life before I was twenty.”

“Perhaps if instead of being kidnapped by a stranger, if the perpetrator were a family member, you’d have a better shot at a longer life this time. The dynamics would be different, and you’d have more support.”

“That looks good, let’s do it. I want to work on these things, too, partnering up with these other people, to see how these other scenarios go down.”

“Wow! That’s an awful lot to work on in one lifetime. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Absolutely! It’s gonna be fun! Like dress-up. I’ll wear a female human body this time, and I’ve got my peeps helping me, giving me hints and clues along the way. Leaving breadcrumbs for me to find. And just in case things don’t go as planned, let’s create some exits along the highway. Emergency exits. Just in case things get really off track.”

“Yes, of course. There are always emergency exits available. And you won’t remember once you get there, but you’re never alone, even when you feel like it. You’ve got agreements in place with all these people to help watch over you, after they come back here, like your classmate who will leave when he’s only 13. If trouble is headed your way that you didn’t sign up for this time around, they’ll intervene. They’ve got your back.”

“Boy oh boy! This is going to be a big one! It’ll be so cool to see how it goes. To see how I end up handling things. I can’t wait to be in a human body again, to experience life through the lens of a brain and physical body. To limit my perspective and forget who I really am. To have to eat food, and walk around, and get to experience physical sensations like ice cream and sex. It’s gonna be great to experience all sorts of emotions we don’t feel here, at least not at all in the same way. What a ride it’s going to be! Riding the emotional roller coaster, feeling love and hate, joy and terror, tension and relief, anxiety and peace. All sorts of opposites. And what a blast it’s going to be to forget everything and spend a lifetime remembering. I can’t wait! What’s next?”

“Well, we’ve got an ambitious plan, and you’ve picked your sex and your parents. So next up is waiting for a body, and there’s one getting ready that looks perfect. The genes you picked will help you this time around. You can test it out if you want, or go right in.”

Looking around, I saw several other souls getting ready to jump into their bodies, all patiently waiting. The next thing I knew, I forgot. I forgot who I really was. I forgot about all the support I had. I remembered I planned an awful lot and was suddenly terrified I’d bitten off more than I could chew.

I was in my mother’s womb. Terrified to be born.

Several years ago, when I was working on healing root causes of emotional eating, I used hypnotic regression to get to the bottom of things. During this session, I regressed so far back that I experienced some of my pre-birth planning. I didn’t even know my soul chose to go through some really difficult experiences, giving me opportunities to grow. Yes, we actually plan some of the really hard and bad stuff that comes into our lives. Not every little thing, but usually the big stuff. Discovering things like healing work, has made all the difference. Helping me through tough times, creating crazy amazing healing in my life.

Posted in Hypnosis, Spirituality, The Voyage | Tagged , , | 11 Comments


This gallery contains 11 photos.

Originally posted on Life Is A Journey… Not A Guided Tour:
It’s that time of year folks! Tulip time. In the county where I live, we have a tulip festival that runs the entire month of April. That said, the…

Gallery | 1 Comment


Here we are again. Monday. These days I homeschool my teen (technically he’s enrolled with a private, independent learning high school) and Monday mornings are particularly tough. We have breakfast, do some academics and drive to our weekly check in with his teacher in a neighboring county. After the meeting we grab lunch, run some errands and get home somewhere between 3pm and 4 pm. Sounds pretty easy doesn’t it? No getting up before the crack of dawn to catch a school bus. No dealing with teachers who don’t get him. No dealing with bullies.

It’s far from easy. Despite being on medications to help quell my son’s anxiety, Sunday night’s sleep is usually beyond fitful, and he gets up tired. Because of all of his various issues, on top of being a teenager, when he’s tired or doesn’t feel well, school becomes a nightmare. Something deep inside of him resists it with the force of an atom bomb that he swallows. His brain melts and it’s all hands on deck just trying to survive.

Sometimes he can get through a few subjects of school work, but today it took everything he had to sit and watch fifteen minutes of a recitation of The Rime of The Ancient Mariner. He didn’t even have to read it (he has dyslexia), just sit and listen to the actor Ian McKellen, watching the text scroll. Within a few minutes, I saw him begin to physically shake with anxiety.

Even on a good day, reading, writing, and math are the bane of my son’s existence. But when his anxiety amps up, he’s done. There’s nothing I could do but send him back to bed and call his teacher. I’ll check in with her over the phone today. She’s very ok with it. Many of her students have issues that preclude them from attending public or regular private schools.

He’s had a few more hours of sleep and some lunch, and he’s still not up for academia today, but he’s wandered outside to check out his progress on a yard project. Just before Christmas we had a massive (about 100 ft. tall) fir tree go over in our back yard, and he’s working on getting it cut up and split for firewood.

When there are things to do on his own that he wants to do, with no supervision or oversight, done at his convenience, and in this case with a tangible reward ($), there is no issue. That’s his ADHD. He’s interested in it, no one is bugging him about how to do it, and he can do it on his timetable. One day he’s outside working like a dog for four hours, while another time he’s done after one.

Every day, when academics don’t happen (or barely happen), it gets to me at first. I go through all sorts of mental gyrations in my head about if he can’t do this here and now, how will he ever get any sort of education beyond this homeschool environment? And then I eventually remember we’re both doing the best we can. He’s sixteen, and some of the challenges he has now hopefully will change as he matures, (and he won’t be fully mature as an adult until around age 28 or so). And he has two loving and supportive parents who will never give up on him.

Plus, I have to remember that how I see everything these days is colored by the process my own head is going through because of my Kundalini awakening, and unfortunately, much of my outlook is filled with worry and negativity simply because of it.

It’s tiring. And I keep reminding myself it won’t be forever. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. And we do.


Posted in Mental Health, The Voyage | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

Spring Is Springing

A little over two weeks ago, it was snowing. Again. Having waited the entire winter for even a flurry, February brought us several days of snow, gifting us with a winter wonderland after all. In fact, we got so much snow that much of the yard stayed white into the beginning of March.

Nearly overnight, we went from winter wonderland and temps in the thirties, to summer-like weather for a few days before settling into our usual cool springtime.

Our local bulb farms and display gardens are gearing up for the annual Tulip Festival, held for the month of April. And I went over to check out the flowers’ progress.

This year, because of the late snow and cold weather, the bulbs in general are a bit late. Daffodils are just opening, when in warmer winters they were dying off by this time. Along with daffodils, hyacinths are also just blooming, which I love so dearly because of their sweet fragrance. If I could snap my fingers and have an amazing garden, it would be filled with fragrant flowers that would bloom one after the other.

The tulips, which come in varieties that bloom early, mid, and late, are just barely getting started. Lots of leaves are up, but not much to speak of yet in the way of blossoms.

Enjoy these photos taken at one of the two largest family owned tulip growers in the US, Roozengaarde.


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A Lesson In Parenting

A few years ago, when I was having a particularly tough time with my son, I wanted to address my worry about his issues. To work on healing the worry. At the time, his mental health was really beginning to deteriorate, and as a parent, it tore me up every time my kid melted down with anxiety and couldn’t function. The wait list to get in to see an adolescent psychiatrist was a year long, and if I couldn’t help him yet, I knew a way to help me.

Like the flight attendants tell you during their safety brief, if the oxygen masks drop during an emergency, put your mask on before helping others. You’re no good if you’re passed out or dead. (I added that last part).

During the hypnotherapy healing session, I was guided to bring in the soul who is my son. I saw him as a bright light, like a starburst, and was overwhelmed as the feeling of love washed over and through me. So amazing! The higher wisdom came to me when I was guided to ask about our mission together, why we were brought together this lifetime.

My son’s soul told me, “I’m here to teach you about being spirit. You’re here to teach me about being human.”

parent child relationship

When the message first came through, I could see all the little breadcrumbs I’d followed that led me to having a spiritual awakening in the first place. The searching and seeking, not for spirituality, but for things to help my son. This boy who had so many struggles and challenges. Concurrently finding things that helped me be a better mother; things that made me less stressed, worried, and less fried. Until one day, during the course of a conversation with a beautifully intuitive woman, something inside me woke up and began to roar. I suddenly knew without a shadow of a doubt that life exists beyond the physical world.

Receiving the message, it was obvious that as my son’s parent, my number one job, other than loving him, is to help him grow up with skills necessary to make it in the world. To grow up to be independent and a contributing member of society.

However, I recently realized the universality of this personal message. I can see it apply to every parent/child relationship out there.

When our children first come into the world, their ability to survive on their own is zero. It’s through our relationship with them that they make it in the world. That they find their bearings and walk their way to becoming an adult.

As much as not everyone who has children will experience a spiritual awakening, children often remind us to become childlike again; bringing us closer to our spirit.

One of the joys of being a parent is seeing the world through a child’s eyes of wonder. Being delighted in the most simple things. Having more fun with the box than with the toy in it.

Kids naturally live in the moment. They’re not overly concerned with the past or the future. They just do their thing.

Children bring us into the present moment.

Young children remind us to be unapologetically us. To do what we want to do, without being concerned if we’re doing it right or if someone else approves of it.

You do you. Be your authentic self.

Being a parent, especially the parent of a child with special needs, I had to stop looking at my child with the expectations I had – because so often what I was doing wasn’t working. I had to shift my focus, learning to look at what was behind his behavior instead of merely demanding compliance. To learn to look at the world a different way. To understand that my child, the one who had meltdowns every day because of having Sensory Processing Disorder, the one who didn’t tie his shoes until he was eleven because of dysgraphia, and the one for whom things like language arts and math don’t easily compute because of dyslexia, is doing the best he can. He has to work five times harder to accomplish some of the same things most people pick up easily. And some things will never be easy.

So often we expect things of our children that they’re simply not able to do. They’re too tired or too hungry, their brain is cooked, or they just don’t get it. They may not have the skills yet. And sometimes they forget things easily and need reminders.

We’re all doing the very best we can in any given moment in time.

Ever raise a toddler or a teenager? Those years make us parents tear our hair out like no other because it’s when our kids are taking lightyear jumps into independence. They push back and want to do what they want to do, not what we want them to do. And you can’t tell them how to do something because they know it all. We parents walk the tightrope between wanting to strangle our kids and standing back in amazement, wondering who is that child, and where did mine go? It’s the push-me pull-you of when to exercise control and when to let them fly, crash and burn, and fly again.

One of the greatest lessons kids teach us is about surrender. That we each have our own unique path in life to walk, and ultimately no one can walk our path for us.

Many years ago, I learned in a parenting class that when your little one is not doing what you want and nothing (no amount of bribery or punishment) is getting you what you want, when you’re so at odds that you’re about to go psycho on your kid, give them a random hug. It’s magic.

Sure, you can push and push until you’re blue in the face, you’re beyond exhausted. You can threaten the kid, take away all sense of security, shame and embarrass them, and you might ultimately get them to make their bed or take out the trash. Or not. When something isn’t working, take a different tack. Instead of beating your way upwind, change course, let the sails out, and go with the wind for a while.

Love and connection melts resistance. Every day, in every way.

Posted in Developing Capable Young People, Positive Discipline, Spirituality | Tagged , , | 4 Comments


Being present is a gift we give ourselves.

When you’re in the present moment, you’re not mired in the past, thinking about what you should have or could have done, or having regrets or anger about this or that. And you’re not throwing all sorts of fears and worry into the future. When you are solidly in the here and now, you are grounded. Feet firmly planted in the dirt. Like the roots of a tree. And the more deep and solid your roots, the more present you’re able to be.

In spiritual circles, we use the term grounded to mean fully present and focused in the moment. And the easiest way to be fully present is when we’re doing something we love. What’s tricky, what takes work, is to be grounded, focused in the present moment, when we’re not doing things. When we have a quiet moment. Which is why for some people, doing nothing, just being with themselves with no external stimulation like TV or radio, can be really hard.

One of the processes of going through my Kundalini Awakening has been having my brain quite literally rewired. The way I see and experience the world is very different from how it was two years ago. However, while the rewiring is going on, there’s an experience of neural synapses dying off and new ones growing that takes time. And it’s not a one time event. As my entire consciousness and energy field changes, it’s happening as a series of shifts. Bit by bit. Shift by shift. New awareness by new awareness. It’s been happening gradually, and continually for the past two years.

While it’s been quite frankly an amazing process, having my brain rewired to this extent has not been fun. In fact, there has been too much time when it’s felt like hell. Trust me, the Bible’s version of hell is dead wrong. It’s not something that happens after death (unless you create it). We experience it here on Earth. But I digress.

While my brain has been changing, in addition to seeing the world through much more compassionate and understanding eyes, no longer automatically judging people, I struggle to be able to focus in the here and now. It’s like my thoughts are a squirrel racing around a tree, jumping from branch to branch. Sometimes jumping out of fear of becoming someone’s dinner. My squirrely mind jumps into the future the moment I start thinking about some things, and dives into the past when I think about others.

When this first happened, it sparked buckets of fear. And I had no control over it. However, because my wiring was changing, the larger part of me knew the fear-based thoughts were lies. It’s weird to suddenly become afraid of something, and a split second later know for a fact that what you just thought is not the absolute truth. I’m talking about irrational thoughts that have no basis in present reality.

But what’s gradually happening is a dissolution of fear, regret, anger, sadness, and judgment associated with the thoughts. Very, very, very gradually. Over several months.

My biggest personal frustration with having a brain that’s really struggling to focus for shit, is losing my former ability to write. To have (temporarily) lost the flow. To have lost the ability to craft words into a beautiful piece that conveys not only information, but feeling and emotion. To feel so robotic in my writing much of the time, and lose my train of thought every few minutes. It’s exhausting trying to hang onto words and to remember what I was trying to say, as words and phrases drop out of my brain. Putting together a post that’s complete feels like climbing Mount Kilimanjaro most days.

So I’ll wrap this one up with a piece of wisdom that’s come to me during my spiritual expansion. Whenever you feel like you’re spinning out of control or life feels overwhelming, or if your find yourself constantly worrying about something, do what you can to change things so you feel better, but not before sitting down with yourself.

Sit down (or go for a walk) and remind yourself that right now, right here, in this discrete moment in time, you are safe and you are ok. (Repeat as needed). Your brain might be telling you otherwise, but your heart knows differently. Because in truth, there is only the present moment.

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