Seeking Perfection

This morning, I was thinking about perfection and how we have skewed and made perverse the idea of perfection until it’s become a weapon that we wield against ourselves. About six months ago when I was struggling mightily, I decided to put an end to a small bit of that struggle by looking into some reactions I noticed going on in my brain. The set up in my life became clear to me, and my reaction to this specific trigger was the same every time.

This piece was written back in April, but the wisdom that came from looking into my struggle is timeless. Much has happened since these words were first drafted, and today it felt right to share.

Welcome! For those who are new to my blog, I write about my life experiences to help process them. The good, bad, and the ugly. A few years ago, I discovered hypnotherapy as a way of healing old wounds and trauma, and bringing through the real me that lives at my core. The me without societal judgment, labels, drama, or crud.

For the past 10 or so weeks, life has been a trial. My beautiful, sensitive son (13) had a crisis that necessitated my taking him out of school. You see, he has some “invisible disabilities” that in some regards are actually his superpowers. Along with a very sensitive body, my son’s physical chemistry has gotten out of whack and is affecting his emotions. Anxiety reared its ugly head so strongly, that it threatened to take my kid out of the game. When your body is so sensitive to everything around it that you can feel the vibrations of everything and everyone around you, it can be overwhelming. And with my son being 13, his hormones rising appeared to have been a big game changer (at least I’m guessing it correlates to hormones).

His crisis triggered feelings in me that caused me to have a bit of crisis. I began to notice a pattern in myself. When my son felt ok, so did I. When his anxiety was acting up so strongly that he couldn’t sleep and became a complete wreck, I reacted by becoming very depressed. He felt like a noose around my neck. Like a rock dragging me down.

Part of me wanted to pack a bag and run away, while another part wanted to stay in bed and never get out. A big part of me just wanted to not be here or have to deal with any of it. While another small voice kept telling me that this was a phase that would pass. Just hang on. This too shall pass.

The other week, after more than a week of barely being able to function, I called my hypnotherapist and asked to do a session around why when my son struggled it sent me into a tailspin, spiraling down with smoke streaming out of my fuselage.

I know from experience that when I react to a situation that repeatedly comes up, and especially when I tend to react in the same way, that there is an unhealed belief deep inside me from a long time ago. And with this situation there was no exception.

What I see in hypnosis might be merely a representative of what my beliefs look like, or it might be extremely real, based on actual events that actually happened, but were shuffled into the dark recesses of my mind. No matter, I’m learning that what we perceive as real is what matters. Because when we think and believe in something, it is very real for us and is totally valid.

In this session, what came up were thoughts of inadequacy of myself as a mother. We all hold beliefs of what it means to be a good mother (put on us by our family and society), and seeing my son in pain pinged on a very old belief that I was not a good mother. This belief was created when I was 15 years old and gave up my baby daughter for adoption. Part of me created the belief that I was not a good mother because I gave my baby away and did not take care of her. But that belief was created and buried so quickly that I’m not aware of it ever being a conscious thought. (And this is how tricky several of our beliefs are).

What helped heal that belief was my guide during the session, Mother God (who brought in higher wisdom), telling my 15 year old self that she was in fact a better mother for having given her daughter away. Considering the circumstances surrounding my daughter’s birth, it was the very best thing for her to allow another family to have her for their own; to raise her as theirs.

My fifteen year old self was somewhat comforted by this information, but it wasn’t until Mother God assured her that her daughter would always be watched over and protected (by Mother God) that she finally felt true relief. With that knowledge, my younger self was able to accept that she was in fact a great mother, and her pain released. And at that moment, I was reminded that when I think of my children, although I publicly acknowledge only my son, I am forever a mother of 2. Most of my family and friends that I grew up with still doesn’t know anything about my daughter.

After that huge healing moment, my hypnotherapist asked if Mother God had any further wisdom for me. In my mind, I was thinking about how I get depressed from time to time, especially when my son is struggling, and Mother God shared some amazing wisdom that changes how I see everything. Everything!

The wisdom was about the word perfect; how we define it and use it. The information that was plunked straight into my head was: the only thing perfect is creation. The way we humans think of the word perfect is all wrong. The only thing perfect is creation. Look around. What is around you? Everything you see is created. Every single thing you are looking at has been created! And as such, it is all perfect!

Everything and everyone is absolutely perfect at any given moment in time. Perfect. As it is supposed to be.

Yes we have free will, can make choices, and have preferences. Of course. But because everything that happens is an experience we agreed (with God) to have, every single thing that happens is valid. No matter what it looks like, it matters, it carries weight, it is ok.

The pain comes from wanting other than what is in your grill. The pain comes from that distance, that dissonance, that disconnection between what IS (which is perfect) and what IS NOT (that you desperately want).

The pain comes from not knowing that at any moment, everything is already perfect.

Because of my past with my daughter and feeling like I was a bad mother, when my son came along, there was a part of me that screamed out to not fuck up my son. Do whatever you have to do to not screw him up. Don’t mess this one up. And when he came out “broken and not normal” that part of me jumped into action to “fix” him. And when he can’t be “fixed,” it’s somehow my fault.

Saying that everything is already perfect in every moment, you’re probably saying, WTF? How can I say that people who are hurting and who are in pain are perfect? How can I say that dead babies washing up on the shore as their parents flee their war torn countries, is perfect? How can anything uneven, unbalanced, or ugly be perfect? Because none of it is a mistake or invalid. It all serves a purpose and exists for a reason.

I might not know what that reason is right now, but there is one. We all play our parts in this big dance of life, and we never know the reason why one person’s role might seem imperfect or not desired. Everything that happens in any moment is perfect because it is valid and worthwhile.

Because of having preferences, we make choices all the time. When we choose one thing or another, we don’t know which choice is good or bad, because either choice could warrant either judgment depending on things we might not even know about. We assume we know everything about everything. We carry our beliefs. We see a situation, and feel free to be judge, jury and executioner.

A great example of why our perceptions can be wrong was demonstrated to me when I found out about my pre-birth plan to experience shame. My soul wanted a lifetime (or several) to understand shame. And not just a little bit of shame. Because my soul is truly bad-ass, it wanted to feel boatloads of potentially soul crushing shame. It wanted to know what shame feels like, tastes like, looks like, walks like and talks like.

So, my soul made an agreement with another member of my soul family that he would help me with this endeavor. He would block out so much of his own light and forget how beautiful and powerful he is, that he, after suffering his own wounds, would take out his pain on me and try to feel powerful again by dominating me. He would rape me again and again, chasing his human need to feel better. In being molested over and over I felt shame because I took on blame of not stopping him. And because of bringing a baby into the world in such a manner (my being molested and being a teen out of wedlock), even more shame was created.

My father felt shame and his way of handling it was to dig the biggest hole he could and bury it, much like how we deal with radioactive waste. And as with radioactive waste, shame sits, waiting for the day to be transmuted and made harmless. Agreeing to keep everything a secret kept the shame bound to me, like a festering boil.

The human perspective is to look at what happened and judge it as bad. The soul perspective sees everything that happened as being perfect. It was what my soul wanted to experience. And not only have I healed the shame, I knocked that sucker out of the park by taking my life and discovering ways to heal myself at levels that not only heal me, but my family as well.

The way our society defines perfect no longer works for me. The judgment and weight of the old definition is something I no longer wish to carry. From here on out, the only thing that is perfect is creation. And because everything is created, it is all perfect. Every situation and every person is already perfect just because they exist. Bringing a spirit into the physical is an intentional act. Bringing experiences into your life are intentional acts (sometimes at a subconscious level, but intentional nonetheless). The act of existence is intentional and as such it is all valid and is perfect.

Posted in Holistic Healing, Hypnosis, Mental Health, The Voyage | Tagged , , , , , | 14 Comments

Preview To Our End of Summer Trip

Now that Little Man is no longer tied to our public school system, or to their calendar, we took our trip to the northeast in September, just after Labor Day. It’s a gorgeous time to be there, tourist and summer resident crowds have thinned considerably, and airfare is a tiny bit lower than during high season.

One of the big fires in Little Man’s life these days is action photography. He’s a pretty active guy, and has discovered UAV’s (unmanned aerial vehicles), also known as drones. He’s flown remote-controlled helicopters since he was about six years old, and moving up to flying a quadcopter with a camera on it was a no-brainer for him. When he flies, he’s an extension of the aircraft, and watching his piloting skills makes flying look deceptively easy. He’s so good at it and such a natural that you don’t fully appreciate how challenging it is unless you go on YouTube and watch videos of people (usually adults) crashing their drones.

Just today, when we were meeting with his teacher (we do this weekly), Little Man sat at the table and was messing around with his iPad. Sometimes, when he’s having a difficult time with focusing or if his anxiety is acting up, being distracted by things on his iPad helps him cope. The next thing I knew, he was asking me how to spell a word, and he uploaded a video he’d just created to Instagram. To see the video he made and to follow him on Instagram, his user name is carson_seahawk.

The app that is used to fly DJI’s drones lets you see in real-time (on your phone or tablet) what the camera sees, and it records a degraded copy of the video. It also has a small editor built into the app that lets you create clips of video, string them together, and add music; and then post it online. I didn’t realize the app could share the video to sites like Instagram. And I also didn’t realize that you can embed an Instagram video into a blog post, until about an hour ago.

So, without further ado, here is a minute long video I made (because apparently that’s as long as Instagram will accept) of Little Man’s drone footage on the coast of Maine. He’s flying over Cosy Harbor, where I spent many summers learning how to sail. (In future, when I embed videos from Instagram, I’ll create them as a minute long or less. This video was originally just over a minute, so not much is missing).

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Struggling a Bit

Sun rising over Ocean Point

Sun rising over Ocean Point

Lately I’ve been struggling a bit. Struggling to write. Struggling to accomplish things I want to get done. Just struggling.

Where I live, the weather gets darker this time of year, and the rains begin. Some years, the rains don’t really settle in until some time in November. But they’ve arrived and it’s only the first week of October. From here until next spring we will see less and less sun and light. (I could never make it in Alaska).

My son has been struggling a bit lately as well, which makes my burden all that much heavier. In general, he’s doing ok (better than he was late last winter), but this week specifically has had more tough times.

I know this will pass.

Having my son home full-time is still something I’m adjusting to. I used to think that I could simply make a schedule where we would get up, spend X amount of hours doing “school work” and that I would create a time for me to write (while my son socializes with his buddies online). There would be a regular schedule of getting the house cleaned, and we would have plenty of days out doing an assortment of activities, from meeting up with other homeschoolers, to having our own field trips, possibly going on hikes or bike rides, to getting the grocery and other shopping done.

Life hasn’t looked like that at all. There is no regular schedule of anything other than meeting with the kiddo’s teacher once a week. Lately, when I’ve wanted to pursue some academic subjects, I’ve been met with my son’s anxiety and meltdowns. My own get up and go, got up and went. Feels like winter blues hit me with a blast of arctic air.

I have photos to share from our adventures in September, and as soon as I’m able, I’ll get a post or two written about our trips to the coasts: one to the Atlantic, and one to the Pacific. And, as soon as I can get Little Man to do some writing, I’ll share the blog I created for him to show off his own photography skills (drone aerial photography and GoPro footage), and for him to have writing practice.

In the meanwhile, life goes on.

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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.


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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.

salmonberry leaf

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.

blueberry bush

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.

the river

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.


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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.

from Google Images

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.

Posted in Energy Therapy, Holistic Healing, Hypnosis, Spirituality, The Voyage | Tagged , , , , , | 15 Comments

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.

Posted in Energy Therapy, Holistic Healing, Hypnosis | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

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.


Posted in Holistic Healing, Mental Health, The Voyage | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

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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