We pass down legacies through stories our families share over and over again. Like the story when Dad was fishing out in the Kettle for cod, and he looked down over the side of our 19 ft. motorboat and saw a shark about five feet longer than the boat. The shark he later described to a fellow at the local Department of Marine Resources, who confirmed it was a great white shark.

We teach lessons by sharing stories of success, triumph, tragedy, and mistakes. Like the time I mowed by blackberry canes, and even though I was wearing long pants, a thorn scratched me through them. After a few months, what had been a small cut in my leg grew and grew until it was about the size of a quarter. After going to a doctor and being prescribed a course of antibiotics, I discovered that I’d gotten a staff infection that probably wouldn’t have taken hold if I’d washed and disinfected the initial wound.

We create community through stories of shared interests. And we’re entertained and inspired through stories.

Stories are webs that bring us together and hold us together. As small as a shared anecdote, or as large as the story of the formation of our country that we’re required to learn in school.

I began sharing my story with nobody in particular; whoever wanted to read, almost ten years ago. This blog began as a bit of a journal while sharing things I felt might help others in my situation. A place to tell my story and build my little community.

One of the things I love about stories is how through sharing someone’s experiences, perhaps how they overcame adversity, others become inspired to rise up and overcome their own adversities.

I also love how through sharing a variety of perspectives, people’s minds can be opened, broadened, and sometimes changed. That’s my jazz. Well, one of them.

I share my story, my journey, because quite frankly it’s become filled with little miracles. And as much as some of them came completely out of the blue, creating others is something I believe can be replicated.

The path my journey has taken has caught me quite by surprise.

Beginning less than a year after I began this blog while being a regular and busy mom dealing with a special and very energetic child, magic began to creep into my life. Things happened, like having a spiritual awakening. Magic. After having how I see and experience the world change, what was a new and somewhat casual interest in this thing called energy healing suddenly became an obsession. Something deep within me woke up and I had to know everything there was to know about it.

Through this blog, I’ve connected with others who share an interest in the world of spirituality, photography, healing, parenting a special child, and the world of metaphysics. And it’s brought me such joy to become inspired by those who’ve cared to comment.

One of the biggest challenges I’ve faced more recently when it comes to sharing my story is the telling of the transformative experience I’ve been going through for almost three years: a Kundalini awakening. Half the challenge is because my actual brain and mind are gradually changing and there have been months when trying to string coherent sentences together has been impossible. I’ve physically been unable to write for beans.

And the other half has been the difficulty in describing something most people have never heard of and have no reference for. Because it’s proving to be the most difficult challenge I’ve lived through to date, I share as I can.

Parts of my story that have come to light over the course of doing healing work aren’t necessarily pleasant to hear about. Healing is about bringing up darkness, exposing it to light, and allowing it to transform. But I try to tell things in a way that lets people know if I can do this, so can you. Inner transformation can be easy. It doesn’t have to be hard or painful.

Like when I was working on healing food cravings, and through hypnotic regression when looking for the root cause of a craving I saw how food became my balm and savior when I was a toddler and my mother verbally attacked me. As adults, we bury memories yet they stay with us, affecting us for the duration of our lives. Hypnosis not only allowed me to remember something deeply buried from the past, but did it in such a way as to not produce any trauma. And it allowed me to essentially go back in time and set that little girl within me free from her pain. I not only understood why I used food to soothe myself, but many cravings that day were permanently dissolved.

If you’ve been part of my blogging community for years, thanks for reading my stories. Thanks for sharing yours. And if you’re new here, there are lots of stories from this former merchant mariner who became a mother later in life. And who, on a quest to be able to lose weight and actually keep it off stumbled into hypnotherapy, her current healing modality of choice. There are stories about the challenges and victories of raising a son with invisible disabilities, and how through looking for things to help him ended up helping herself and precipitated not one but two spiritual awakenings altering the trajectory of her life in ways she never saw coming.

As I move through this Kundalini awakening, it’s my hope to share stories of inspired wisdom, while scattering in a few snippets of the challenges I live with daily. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Thanks for reading.

About mariner2mother

I'm a mother of a creative 19 year old son, a former merchant ship's deck officer, and a wife. To feed my creative side I take photos. I am also Reiki attuned and am a student of Energy Healing, having used several healing modalities to work on myself and my family. My most recent adventure has me navigating a very challenging Kundalini Awakening.
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4 Responses to Stories

  1. The Hook says:

    Thanks for writing.

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