it makes me sick

Steve reads the Drudge Report every day. I read it sometimes. I like Peggy Noonan; I think she's pretty smart. I don't know too many other writers - I try to read someone new every once in a while; yesterday I found a link to a funny t-shirt site. Figures I'd start out looking at the news and end up shopping. Two days ago Steve told me about one of the top stories on Drudge - 50 year old English women are going to Kenya and picking up young men on the beaches, wining and dining them, having their way with them, buying them some clothes, then saying good-bye. They interviewed one of the young men and here's a snippet of what the article said:

"Many of the visitors are on the lookout for men like Joseph.

Flashing a dazzling smile and built like an Olympic basketball star, the 22-year-old said he has slept with more than 100 white women, most of them 30 years his senior.

"When I go into the clubs, those are the only women I look for now," he told Reuters. "I get to live like the rich mzungus (white people) who come here from rich countries, staying in the best hotels and just having my fun."

At one club, a group of about 25 dancing men -- most of them Joseph look-alikes -- edge closer and closer to a crowd of more than a dozen white women, all in their autumn years.

"It's not love, obviously. I didn't come here looking for a husband," Bethan said over a pounding beat from the speakers.

"It's a social arrangement. I buy him a nice shirt and we go out for dinner. For as long as he stays with me he doesn't pay for anything, and I get what I want -- a good time. How is that different from a man buying a young girl dinner?"



Now, it's not the sex part that bothers me - I can understand that, but there's something about these poor young kids having gone through tough life circumstances (I'm assuming), then having to essentially be prostitutes to stay alive. How about these 50 year old women instead just giving the boys the dinners and clothes, to let them know that the world CAN be a kind, gentle, loving place, and not a place where people use others for their own pleasures, no matter what that other person has gone through?

It's been on my mind these past two days, and I can't seem to shake the sick feeling in my stomach that I get when I think of it. If you want to check the article out for yourself, here's the link: http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSN2638979720071126?feedType=RSS&feedName=oddlyEnoughNews&rpc=22&sp=true

Why even write about this? I don't know for sure - there are a lot of other worse things going on out there, maybe I think women should be the spiritual leaders and not do this, maybe I'm surprised at how judgmental that last phrase sounds, but it's churned something inside me, and it's interesting to follow my feelings to see what's at the center. Would I ever do something like that? I don't think so. Would I be critical if I found out a friend of mine had done that? I'd first be curious - ask her why, and what it was like, but then yeah, I'd probably be judgmental, so maybe that's at the heart of all of this. If I seriously just let everyone make their own decisions, and believe that's their right, then I wouldn't be getting my panties in a bunch over this. So maybe I still have control issues, thinking MY way is the right way, the best way, and wishing that others would just ... be more like me? Horrifying thought, when I think of all those other not-so-spiritual thoughts and actions I have, so I guess I'll just have to keep spelunking my soul for more self-awareness.

wow

That's all I can say today - wow. I went to Monika's this morning, and she did some amazing energy work for me (thanks, Monika), but I left there feeling REALLY sleepy and out of it (I know what you're thinking...). I transcribed 10 more of Dad's letters (now we're at the point where he's given her the "A" pin, but she won't wear it, because she met Vince down in Florida during the three months they shut down Wellesley for the war, and her parents live in Florida, so she spent January-March of 1943 there - she doesn't know if she loves Bill at this point, or Vince (Vince was very pushy)). Thank god I know how all of this turns out, or I'd be a nervous wreck. Suffice it to say that this book is going to be FABULOUS when we're all done. I'll keep you posted.

I've spoken with a ton of folks who are all feeling long-term nauseous, as well as uber-crabby (my crabbiness seems to be ebbing, but I'm still strangely keeping myself a little distant from Steve) and aching knees. But, even with this freak snowstorm last night, and even though my hands and feet are chilly, due to some temperature imbalances in the house (most rooms won't get above 59 degrees or so - brrrrrrrrrr), my insides are still feeling more and more sunny and fabulous. I'm liking THAT feeling, I tell you, and I think my body's integrating more and more each day, and I'm eternally grateful.

I don't know why some people feel a lot of stuff, and others don't feel anything, or why I seem to feel most EVERYTHING, but it's all okay, and it doesn't bother me that much anymore. Heck, after all I've been through this past year and a half, I'm getting to be quite a professional at talking to myself about it all ("okay, now, Susie - you've had this symptom before. You need to just trust and let go - it will pass soon enough. Do something else - read a book, bake something, meditate, call a friend - you're just fine - you're in perfect health, moving to something greater and greater every day") and I really believe in my body's ability to go through all of these changes just fine. I'm keeping my good diet (even though I'd like to work out a little more), I'm sleeping really well lately, really deeply, and I'm overall feeling pretty calm and peaceful. Still restless about my future, though, and I don't really know what to do about that. Some days I feel like moving to Montana, other days I feel like building a new house here in Fargo, some days I feel like buying a condo in Florida, other days I feel like building a lake place, other days I feel like doing ALL of the above things. On and on, and in the end I do ... nothing. But that's okay for now - with everything else moving so fast, who in the heck knows where we'll all end up? I know I'll still be surrounded by those I love, and everything will be the way it's supposed to be. I believe we're all moving toward a really GREAT place, even if it doesn't always feel like it right now. I believe, I really do.

turning on a dime

The weather's doing it - starting with a beautifully clear blue sky, slight breeze (okay, a slightly MORE than slight breeze), but still I'm able to walk to school to pick Bill up. It remains clear at 6 for basketball practice, but we take the car. Then we hear that a blizzard's moved in in the last hour. I don't believe it until I go outside and see 4 inches of snow. Turn on a dime. What was clear is now obscured, just like how I've been feeling on my insides. The strangest sensation is of being FAT. Well, not fat exactly, but bigger, more bulky, heavier, having more density, but I weigh exactly the same. And Melissa feels the same way, as does Maggie. We went bowling yesterday (I won with a 137, pulled it out right at the end, not that I'm competitive or anything), and my knees hurt SO much, even today they're sore when I squat down. And I know I have good knees. Maggie's knees hurt, too. She mentioned that a friend of hers simply told her "higher ups" that she doesn't want the nausea anymore (we're all still feeling pretty queasy, which has been explained to me as feeling like you're on a merry-go-round energy-wise), but we're all wondering if we can do that, and what it means if we do. Will it mean that we are opting out of this energy round, and then we fall behind, and have to catch up at a later time? Is it like accepting drugs in labor, so that you still have the child but don't feel so much pain?

I don't know the answers to any of it - I just know that I've been feeling really crabby lately, for no apparent reason. I want something to shift, to move, to get me off the mark. I feel like I've just been WAITING for something for a really long long time, and I want to get the party started. I hear about all of these things that are coming - amazing, spectacular, miraculous, the answer to all of my wildest dreams, and I just say, "Well, we'll just see when we see," and continue on with my life.

Great news - I got a working printer. It's been almost 6 months, and you wouldn't think it was a big deal, but it totally is - I'm 100% functional (well, computer-wise speaking, anyway), so I got to print out 75 pages of Dad's letters today. I feel so organized, and THAT'S a really good feeling. I got two e-mails from two separate people both with the subject "help." And the e-mails were right next to each other. Now what are the odds of that happening? And I'm glad I can help people, and I'm glad we're all in this together, and I'm glad to see that I'm not alone. It really seems to help by lessening my schedule - just doing the most necessary things, but still making a list of everything I need to accomplish for the day, broken down into little pieces. But still ... I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'll really be glad when this intense energy time is through - I don't know when that will be, but my instincts tell me somewhere around the first of the year. Are you in the first wave? Are you feeling anything? What helps you? Being with my family, close to home, really feels good and comfortable, so that's what I'm choosing to do. Oh yeah, and cooking Carolina Soup helps, too.

I'm so excited...

that I just can't take it. So many exciting things, but where to start? We had an incredible Thanksgiving with Mom and Dad. Not too much cooking, but FABULOUS food (yes, Melissa, I may just start on publishing my cookbook of incredible eats), and so many laughs. We watched "The Greatest Game Ever Played" and Dad loved it, just like I thought he might. Mom and Dad got to play Wii bowling with the older kids, while the way older kids (Steve and I) and Billy slept. I made goopy rolls the next morning (ah - dreamy ...), worked with Dad on his super-fabulous memoir we're co-writing, then headed back to Fargo. We missed the horrible accident by Jamestown by about 2 minutes. Everyone in the car prayed for the victims, I breathed deeply for about a minute and wiped away some tears, then kept on our way. I think that was one of the best Thanksgivings ever. A friend sent me an e-mail the other day, and it said, "You go through your life thinking it's all little things, then when you get to the end of your life you realize it was the little things that were the big things," and I think I finally understand that. My family is the most important thing to me in my whole life, and loving them and taking care of them is what I want to do. I wouldn't change a thing.

BUT... I ran into a friend yesterday whose daughter-in-law is a well-published writer who's coming to Fargo for Christmas. She asked what I was working on and I told her about Dad's book of memoir. "Okay," she said, "that's it, then. I'll have her call you when she's here and you two can get together and talk about your work." I don't know, but it feels magical. Just to get to talk to another writer, maybe get some ideas about how to network, or who to contact - it just feels good.

Combine that excitement with the sheer excitement of this whole book project - I've already spent over 200 hours on it, and expect to log another 500, at least. I'm in the middle of transcribing 130 letters Dad wrote Mom during the years of 1942-45 while he was at West Point and she at Wellesley. It's an unbelievable love story, and combined with Dad's narrative, we're weaving together a story of his life, as told through his letters, photos, and other memorabilia. So much richness, creativity, and excitement - I can already see the finished book in my head, and it's just beautiful.

I met with Bill Lucas today to talk about turning my final channel on my latest meditation CD into a mini-movie. The track is called "Just Breathe" and we both seem to have the same vision. His son Tucker is a filmmaker, and hopefully wants to get on board, as well. We're just in talking stages, but again, the eery part is that I see it already done, and it gives me shivers just to think about it. What I want to convey with the piece is to inspire people to believe in the unlimited possibilities of their lives and of themselves. The weirdest part for me? Bill looks just like I envision my Higher Self, Sam, to look like, so of course he'd play Sam in the movie. I'll keep you posted as talks continue...

Anything else? That's probably it, although I probably WILL start thinking about putting together a cookbook of all of THEE bestest recipes in my whole life. So it's a one-shot deal, as I blow it all putting 100% of them into one book, but whenever I think of it, I get really excited. I already typed them and put them into spiral bound notebooks for my kids - it's called "Susie's Yum Yums" but I'd probably tweak that name a little bit. So, it's exciting all over, as I continue to see double my client load, and bask in the glory that is my current life of living EXACTLY as I want to live. It's all a hazy miracle sometimes, it seems. But if it's a dream, I just don't want to ever wake up. But I have the distinct feeling that I'm the butterfly dreaming I'm a woman, not a woman dreaming I'm a butterfly. And so I fly ...

easy peasy I feel queasy

Will this never end? Seriously, I'd think something was wrong if Melissa didn't feel the EXACT same things at the EXACT same time. Now even Stevie's feeling them. Mags was sick yesterday, as well. So what's going on here? It appears that we go through these cycles of detoxification (can you say "toilet?"), which start with bloating and constipation (sorry to be so graphic, but these things must be said ...), then you probably feel queasy, then things "release" (enough said), then you may feel "tight," like you've got a temple headache, or a sore neck and back, hips and knees sore. Then you're through this round ... and it starts again. I know it's intense, and I'm puzzled when a friend looks at me and says, "I haven't felt ANYTHING," and I know she's spiritual, so I can't answer the question as to why some of us are feeling it all more intensely, and others aren't. Maybe we just have different language.

Last night I was watching an episode from Season 3 of "Scrubs." Ben, Jordan's brother, dies. We knew he had leukemia, but the way it was shown on the episode, it was really sudden. AND Dr. Cox is crying, because Ben is his best friend. There it goes - the geyser of tears - seriously, I couldn't stop for almost an hour. Was it about "Scrubs?" No - I'm certain not, as I KNOW it's only a show, and Brendan Frasier is still very much alive (thank god). So just another emotional interlude? It appears so - so don't be upset when you cry for no reason - no, it's not the lack of sunshine or the appearance of those little white flakes. Don't be upset when things don't feel like they're moving forward. Heck, EVERYONE I know is feeling this sense of frustration and just hanging around, not going anywhere. I don't mean ANYWHERE, because everything is just perfect in my life, really it is - I've never been happier or more balanced with my work, home, friends, and myself, but still ... something's going on underneath the surface, and we can never quite put our fingers on it. Doing the public channels the first Tuesday of each month helps, but I've got to find someone to transcribe them so I can post them on my website. Meditating to Andrew Weil's "Breathing" CD has done phenomenal things for my integration process (I highly recommend that CD if you haven't heard it yet - I leave my body when I listen to it - really). Cooking also relaxes me, as does cleaning (not too much of that, though, just enough to clear my head).

I'm all packed and ready to head to Bismarck to spend Thanksgiving with Mum and Dad. It's Kari's golden birthday tomorrow (22 on the 22nd), and she sweetly said she wants to spend it with her grandparents. We're only going for a day, but we're bringing our video camera so we can tape Kari singing for Mom and Dad, along with our still camera to take pics of all of us together. And in the end, isn't that what it's all about? Family, friends, and love? Oh, and good food. Always good food.

Happy Grateful Giving Thanks Day to you all - I'll post when I get back on Friday...

lessons

We needed a new floor - the carpet we put in on the stairs was ruined a few months after it was installed (6 years ago). I wanted bamboo - green, and all that. One disaster after another, and one month later it turns out we're going to have to rip the whole thing out and start over. And we can't salvage the bamboo as it was glued down. This makes my heart sick - it's ironic, don't you think? The reason we went with bamboo was so we could be ecologically-minded, and now we're going to waste a whole heap of it because the installer did a horrible job (don't get me started). I know it needs to be done - there are gaps and splinters and nails sticking up at all angles and smudges that won't come off, but still, it has me wondering - what's the lesson in all of this?

Steve thinks I'm just ahead of the curve, and maybe people don't know enough about bamboo to install it properly. North Dakota isn't THAT behind, is it? I don't think so. I remained kind throughout it all, understanding, I never yelled or called anybody a name, I was patient, so it isn't my fabulous ongoing lesson of patience. Do you think that everything that comes into our lives has a lesson for us? I read somewhere that during these times right now, we're learning at an accelerated rate through our adversities - man, I'm on the fast track for sainthood at the rate adversities are appearing in my life. And right now, I'm really okay with it ALL - if I step back and look at the worst things that can happen, I can still live with everything - it's just money, it's just my time, it's just a hassle. But what if I'm supposed to be helping those OTHER people learn their lesson? Like how it's possible to mess up and NOT be yelled at, or how it's really NOT okay to lie to others, and sometimes you will be held accountable for your actions. Okay, so maybe that's it. Maybe it's fine not to wonder about the lessons and just handle things as they come up.

I'm being encouraged to just sit back and be patient, waiting for the next phase of my life to develop. There's something big just around the corner, just wait... and wait and wait and wait. Okay, so patience isn't my long suit, but c'mon, folks - it's been a really long time of just waiting for this new stuff, hasn't it? All the talk of evolution and ascension and enlightenment, and we're here, sure, maybe, but there's still a hold up for most of us, and then I think, who said how it's supposed to go? Who said there was a timeline for anything? Do I really believe that everything unfolds in Divine Order, or am I just a hypocrite who knows the right things to say, but not necessarily how they pertain to me? I don't know, I don't know, I just don't know, but today my thumb feels better (still a little hot and swollen), and I'm actually getting some work done, so maybe it's okay just to release my own expectations for the time being, suspend them until after the holidays. After all, what's the rush? We have all the time in the Universe, don't we?

devolving

I'm not going to lie to you - this is an embarrassing story. I am not coordinated; in fact, I have always been extremely clumsy. In 7th grade, I broke my right ankle slipping on the ice on the way to school - I thought the dark patch on the ground was water (in the middle of February - did I mention that I also don't have much common sense?). I walk into doors and walls, I hit my head on most everything, and one time - oh, one time, back in 1979, I was walking with my boyfriend Jim down at Kirkwood Mall, and we were saying goodbye to our friend Warren. While saying goodbye, we were walking backwards, away from him, you know, like you do. Well, just as I was turning around to walk forward again, my foot hit something - the plastic seats that are in the middle of the mall for weary shoppers. An elderly couple was sitting on the seat. I fell DIRECTLY ON TOP of the elderly couple, and I threw out my hand to catch myself, only to have it fall straight into the trash can. Sigh - it's a visual. Jim walked away laughing (can you blame him? We broke up shortly after that).

So suffice it so say that although it hurt, I wasn't that surprised when I slammed the toilet lid on my thumb early this morning (don't even ask ...). Surprisingly, I'm not mad at Steve for not lowering it (even if I fell in once last week - again, in the early morning), so that's something new for me. I'm not instantly blaming someone else for my unfortunate events that occur almost daily. But what's amazing to me is that I never realized how much I rely on my thumbs - that whole "opposable" thing. Even right now as I'm typing my thumb is throbbing every time I hit the space key. I have work to do - 20 of Dad's letters to transcribe for his memoir book, a chocolate rum cake to bake for Thanksgiving, maybe even a little Guitar Hero (hey, I'm up to "hard" on most songs). I think of all the jokes about animals not having opposable thumbs, and how that makes them inferior to us, and I never really thought about all of the things you need thumbs for (it was a BEARCAT to put my tight jeans on this morning). Think about it - we evolve with certain gifts and talents, and we take them for granted. So I've evolved in certain areas, and I haven't really stopped to think about any of it, but this whole black-thumbnail-it-will-probably-fall-off incident stops me in my tracks on this gray Sunday morning. I think maybe I am still moving too fast, not walking slowly enough through my days to be mindful of the toilet lid, or whatever it was that cut my OTHER thumb, or caused that bruise on my upper right thigh.

So if I'm not DEVOLVING, exactly, I'm certainly not appreciating where I am in my current state of evolution. Today is a slow day, a play day, and tomorrow is a baking and grocery shopping day. But today I'm wondering if I got the lesson right - slow down, and before you sit down, for gosh sake's, make SURE you're holding the lid tightly before you let go...

What is this feeling?

I haven't always loved my body. Heck, I haven't always even LIKED my body. I've been 6'1" since I was 12 years old, I have HUGE feet, the space between my ankles and knees goes on FOREVER, as does the space between my wrists and elbows (FOREVER). My nose kind of looks like a horse's nose, and I've got a manly kind of body (not many curves). Hey, I'm a realist - I see things as they really are - I know that it could've been a lot worse. My body's strong, it's healthy, it's proportionate (except for the leg thing). So I've gone through most of my 47 years looking at my body in a utilitarian sort of way - as an instrument for getting things done. It helps me work, do projects, kind of like a workhorse. But an odd thing happened to me the other day. I was lying in bed, right before I got up, and I usually take a few minutes just to sit quietly. I looked over at my arm that my head was resting on, and really looked at it. It's the same old arm, with the same old moles, a little more wrinkled. Then I felt something start in my heart and spread out hot and electric-like through my whole body. I couldn't figure the feeling out - what was it? I'd never felt that before when I'd looked at my arm (or leg or face). Then I got it - it's love... I'm in love. I think I may have even kissed my arm at that point (sort of like that old joke - "Let me kiss the hand of the most beautiful person in the whole world" - then you kiss your own hand - it's hilarious).

The feeling was almost overwhelming as I realized that I not only liked and accepted my body - I was in LOVE with my body. But not just my BODY body, but this whole physical thing that my energies are housed in. It's more a realization that I'm in intimate partnership with another intelligence, my body, and it's not only intelligent, it's fabulous. I breathed that feeling for a while before I started my day, but I'm still stuck with the feeling of receiving that precious gift, and excited to see how our relationship will unfold. It's as if I woke up and found myself with the most wonderful person in the whole world, AND I NEVER SAW THEM BEFORE. How could I miss that? How could I just take myself for granted all these years? How could I not see how much my incredible body does for me? There's no way I could do all of that stuff all by myself: "Okay, heart, pump. Pump again - oh darn - I forgot - pump again..." It's amazing, it really is.

So today I'm thankful for my body, and so grateful that it's stuck with me even when I wasn't nice to it, even when I filled it full of chemicals and dyes and fats and sugars and poisons. Even when I ignored it and filled it full of caffeine to keep it going. Even when I took an aspirin instead of resting its sore back. Even when I looked in the mirror and saw that little roll of fat on my belly and felt a little repulsed. Even when ... what kind of an incredible gift is this to us in this lifetime, to have these bodies that are taking us through the tumultuous waters of ascension and enlightenment? How can we thank them? I do Reiki on myself whenever I think of it, and send loving thoughts to my body, I pay attention to BEING in my body, I eat good foods and take plenty of time to rest and play. I choose my thoughts as often as possible (Billy's helping me), I stretch and walk.

It's just so odd to not have gotten it before, but it's never too late to start this love affair so late in life. My body never went anywhere - it was just waiting for me to wake up (or grow up), and I'm so grateful I have.

climbing without a safety net

Bill's a great climber. Every Wednesday he goes to the Y to climbing club. He's learning about different holds, how to belay, how to tie on, and how to become a stronger climber. Yesterday I was watching him through the window on the main floor. They start climbing in the basement and climb up 50 feet, past the big picture window in the front lobby. I watched him carefully but quickly climb the corner rope, heard him ring the bell, then I turned around to study. Then something felt odd in my heart - not IN my heart, exactly, but all around it. I turned around quickly and saw Bill still at the top, clinging to the rocks. I ran downstairs and asked him if he was okay.

"No, I'm stuck," he said in a small voice.

I didn't know what that meant, but I was starting to panic, looking at how he was only inches away from that rope at the top, and wondering if it was safe, and not knowing how to help him.

"Take some deep breaths, sweetie," I said calmly, "just stay calm. Everything's all right."

"What happened?" I asked Kevin who was quickly tying himself onto a rope to go up to get Bill.

"His rope twisted a couple of times, so by the time he got up to the top, it was slack, so it feels like you're going to fall," he explained. "It actually happens a lot."

So Bill wasn't actually STUCK, but he was just scared because it felt like nothing was holding him. It was deadly quiet in the whole room, and everyone was watching Bill. Kevin shimmied himself up to the top and grabbed firmly onto Bill's rope.

"See, Bill? I've got you - you're safe. You're not going to fall. Now just push back against the wall and walk down it. You're okay."

Bill wiped his face against his sleeve and kept his head bent as he descended. I wanted to run up to him and help him get untied, but I knew I should let him take the lead, so I stood there and just watched and waited. Nobody said anything when he got down, but Kevin asked him if he'd like to get a drink and come back and climb again. Bill nodded and we walked upstairs to the drinking fountain.

"I think you were very brave, Bill," I told him.

"I was kinda scared," he said, "I cried a little."

"I would've cried a LOT," I said, "I would've felt the EXACT same thing - scared because it felt like I'd fall." And I hugged him tightly, then let him go climb the wall again.

I think what's so amazing about this story is my reaction to it all - I don't think I would've had the nerve to climb again - heck, the last time I was on a treadmill my pulse raced up to 160 for some unknown reason and I quit the health club and haven't been on a treadmill since. I'm a chicken in some ways. But Bill isn't. Even though he was scared dangling up 50 feet above the ground without a safety net, he went right back up that wall 5 minutes later. He has faith, he has trust that sometimes bad things just happen. I even tried to blame the young belayer (I know, I know, shame on me, but I'm a mother, we have to blame someone sometimes, don't we?), asking Bill if he thought she was too young to be belaying for him.

"No," he said, "she's pretty good," and didn't even sound mad. Now THAT'S a spiritual being - someone who doesn't blame others (whoops), has the faith to get back up on that wall even if they're scared they'll fall, and someone who isn't afraid to admit when they're scared. Bill is my hero - he is my Teacher and an overall pretty amazing guy, and I need to remember his moxie the next time I feel like I'm climbing without a safety net (which is pretty much every minute of every day). I'll hear Kevin's voice in my ear saying, "Don't worry, I've got you," and maybe I'll be able to keep climbing, even when I'm scared.

walking proudly or being dragged...

it's up to us, but we're going anyway. I've been thinking about that these past few days, along with the amazing realization that there are still some people who don't seem to be going through any of these things that have been such a prevalent part of my life these past 5 years. Some insinuate that I make it all harder, some hint that they're more evolved than me, so it's easier for them, some worry that it hasn't started for them, some probably wonder what planet I'm from. This is what I think: I've been immersed and interested in this work for over 20 years - you could call it a passion, a quest, a hobby, but when you're passionate about something you spend time with it, so I've spent a LOT of time immersed in the spiritual world. So I'm interested in it - there are some people who aren't interested in it, or not tuned into it, or who don't use the same language I use, and that's all right. It doesn't mean that anyone's right or wrong, better or worse, just different. So when I know that we're all walking to this new place of being, that's just my opinion, but we don't seem to be able to stop the global process, we can only kick and scream and drag our feet, like kids not wanting to go to bed - "But Moooooooooom," we scream as she throws us over her shoulder and starts up the stairs. Really, all we do is tire ourselves out by making a scene, by trying to change the inevitable outcome - we know it's past our bedtime, and a part of us knows it's in our best interests to get to bed - heck, we even LOVE sleeping... once we get up there. It's just that whole switching from one activity into the next - the transition time that gets us, don't you think? I'm used to my life, and now I'm expected to just stay fluid and open from one moment to the next, not trying to control outcomes or keep things the same, and it's hard to do something different when I've done something my whole life (heck, for ALL of my lives, probably). So we're transitioning from the old into the new.

Are you kicking and screaming? Are you being dragged into the new? Are you walking proudly? Okay, admittedly I'm probably not walking PROUDLY, but I think I'm walking, probably, still probably bitching a little about the whole thing (why does it have to take so long, why does it have to be so intense, when will it be over --- ARE WE THERE YET???????????). So I think about releasing the old and just concentrating on walking, every day, every step, easily and unencumbered into the unknown, trusting that I'll have everything I need provided for me, and that I have everything inside of me to deal with the next step. I had a dream last night in which I thought I was going to die. At the moment of my death I had this thought - it's not so hard dying - just let go."

So that's what I'm doing right now - just letting go. We won't crash, we won't fall, we won't crumble - we will finally realize that all this time we could fly. And that's exactly what is called for at this time - being light enough to fly.

Acclimatisation Process - ascending the heights

FASCINATING STUFF... I was doing my weekly tune-in for Melissa (she does one for me, too) and the information came forward that the physical symptoms many of us are currently experiencing are a result of our ascending to a new place, and needing to acclimate to the higher frequencies. So, I googled "altitude sickness symptoms" and this is what I found:

Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS)

AMS is very common at high altitude. At over 3,000 metres (10,000 feet) 75% of people will have mild symptoms. The occurrence of AMS is dependent upon the elevation, the rate of ascent, and individual susceptibility. Many people will experience mild AMS during the acclimatisation process. The symptoms usually start 12 to 24 hours after arrival at altitude and begin to decrease in severity around the third day.

The symptoms of Mild AMS include:

Headache
Nausea & Dizziness
Loss of appetite
Fatigue
Shortness of breath
Disturbed sleep
General feeling of malaise
Symptoms tend to be worse at night and when respiratory drive is decreased. Mild AMS does not interfere with normal activity and symptoms generally subside within two to four days as the body acclimatises. As long as symptoms are mild, and only a nuisance, ascent can continue at a moderate rate. When hiking, it is essential that you communicate any symptoms of illness immediately to others on your trip.

Moderate AMS

The signs and symptoms of Moderate AMS include:-
Severe headache that is not relieved by medication
Nausea and vomiting, increasing weakness and fatigue
Shortness of breath
Decreased co-ordination (ataxia).

I don't know about any of you, but I've been feeling these symptoms for the last three weeks, ever since I went to Minneapolis and almost fainted on Saturday morning. It appears that we've "graduated" from our ascension symptoms into the acclimatisation symptoms, so that's why I wanted to bring this information forward for anyone to ponder. It makes sense to me, only in that I've been feeling almost carsick on and off for the past week, like I've been reading in the back seat. It's fascinating to me, and I know I'll have a lot to think about at least for the rest of the day.

To be in this new land, and to know that it's never been done before, and to realize that we're all in this together - well, it's exciting to me - I love adventure, the newness of not-knowing, like the explorers must feel, on the edge of a big discovery. Only this time, the discover is ourselves, and that's a grand discovery in my books. So we're all Edmund Hillary, ascending Everest for the first time, not knowing how we'll be affected or how we'll feel, but having that prid in knowing that we DID it - and it's never been done before. But now we're all asking the big question - NOW WHAT?

I wanna be ...

just like my dad. I think I'm like BOTH my mom and dad, and that's a really good, too. He's 84, in perfect health (after a few scares in earlier years), and has a great outlook on life. We're sharing "The Great Course" on the introduction to philosophy, and another one in understanding physics. We're both listening to them, trading them, listening to the OTHER ones, then talking about it. He even knew about the horseshoe structure out over the Grand Canyon. He never stops being interested in the world around him, even though much of his days are taken up with the day-to-day meal preparation, medicine adminstering, and catching up on sleep. Oh, and the great drives around town. What do I really want to say? I want to be the healthy one - the one that only has to take one Vitamin D tablet a week, the one who can walk without help, who doesn't need to go to several different doctors for several different reasons.

And this is NOT about my mom, whom I love DEARLY, but it is about me, and about my dad, and how I've been wondering lately if I'm taking such good care of myself because I want to avoid being dependent and crippled up in my later years. And I've been wondering if I'm expecting Steve to stay healthy because I'm scared that I'll have to take care of him when he's old, and then I'm wondering how cruel and heartless that sounds to be predicting the future on such a conditional basis - of course he'd be there for me if I needed him (I'm thinking he would be - it hasn't been tested yet); isn't that true love? It's more of a "we're in this together" mentality, than a "you'd better not get sick" mentality, and I think it's because of what I went through in that hospital last summer with Mom - the night I spent with her when she was dying, and I saw how hard it was for Dad, and I was so sad, and so drained.

And I can't stop thinking about that night lately, and I think I may need to talk to a friend about it some more. If it's still in the front of my mind, I must still be feeling some things. Maybe it's more about wanting to be strong for Dad, and my sisters, and everyone else, and less about how I actually FELT sitting beside Mom in that room, rubbing her arm, talking to her, wondering if she'd be alive in a few hours, and not possibly knowing how I would ever be able to carry on without her, my mom. It's just life, I know that, in its fullness - no good no bad just ... life, and we can't predict our futures, even WITH a great cholesterol count, or zero inflammation. Sometimes stuff just happens. Maybe Steve will live to be a robust 100, and I'll drop over in a few years - who can say? We go when we go, and there's little control on this plane when that happens. So I found out something about myself, and it is this: I think it's really GOOD to take exquisite care of yourself, because you're the most important person in your life, but to have your motives be in expectation that you'll get more years, or better years, well, you just can't buy that kind of promise, so I'm releasing yet again back into the Void of "Just Because-ness" and loving my health and body just because I do, and I love my husband, and I'll be there for him no matter what he needs from me, because he is my love and my heart, and I still want to be like my dad, but I suspect I already AM.

breaking through

Bill and I and some of my family (sisters and Mom and Dad) went to China. Bill was a baby at the time, so I didn't get to do much "fun stuff" besides take care of him (common part of these kind of dreams). All of a sudden we're all sitting in the family room at our childhood house in Bismarck. "Mom," I said, "is this okay that we're in the house? It belongs to the Abused Women now."

"Yes, it's okay," Mom assured me.

"Are we allowed to house our spirit bodies on the main floor just while we dream?" I asked her again.

"Yes," she replied.

Wow. First of all, I realized I was dreaming (lucid dreaming) because I talked about "housing our spirit bodies on the main floor for our dreams." Second of all, the symbolic childhood house appears to be where my family "gathers" to talk about stuff. I remember telling one of my sisters that her recent incredible e-mail to me made me cry. Then she told me she loves my blue eyeliner. Then I remember waking up WHILE I was saying a LONG sentence, really loudly and clearly. I don't remember what I said, but I remember that my own voice was so loud that it woke me up. I was firmly telling somebody something, which goes along with what I was talking to Mom about yesterday - the difficulty (at least in our family) we have being straight with people, especially when they've done something that's hurt us in some way. Isn't it our DUTY to let others know when they've stepped over that line into OUR space? I think so, but we're just so gosh darned worried about hurting OTHERS that we keep quiet, or worse, talk about it to others, not to the person themselves. So apparently I'm working out stuff in my dreams, and I've been falling asleep around 9 every night, and waking up at 5AM without fail for the past few nights. I made Carolina Soup yesterday morning, and it made for a GREAT hot breakfast. This morning I started in on my antixodant textbook for my holistic nutrition studies (FASCINATING STUFF).

Right now I'm peaceful, although smack in the middle of three unfinished, frustrating events that are swirling all around me. But when I just let the plates slow down of their spinners, then put them carefully on the counter, I realize that I don't have to spin them - that's the illusion. That doesn't mean I don't have to deal with them, but I don't have to keep my eye on them at all times - that's too tiring. So I'll get those papers off to the lawyer this morning, and I'll talk to Cassie about the stairs later today, and I'll grapple with the Toyota office when I get the chance, maybe next week, but until then, we've got a 4 day weekend, a refrigerator full of good food, a fireplace that's just screaming for some action, and even some organic popcorn that might make its way onto the stove today. Life is good. No - I take that back - LIFE IS PERFECT.

accountability

"... answerable, capable of being accounted for, explainable, responsible." My heart is so full of so many things today, I will gather them all up in my arms and label all of them "what I am responsible for." I love my mom and dad more than almost any people on the entire Earth. I told my mom this morning that she did the best she could raising all of us, and at a certain point, she gets let off the hook for our childhood, and we become responsible for our actions and our behavior toward Mom and Dad. If we choose to see them as mean or cruel, that's OUR problem, and it's NOT Mom and Dad's faults - all of us sisters are responsible for our feelings towards our parents. I believe that's true about our relationships with everyone, including ourselves. I feel responsible for my mom and dad's well-being - I take time every day to send them love, and see what I can do to make their lives a little lighter. I would do anything for them.

I love my husband, Steve. He is the most forgiving, patient (holy cow - don't get me started), loving, sweet, kind person I know. He would give not only his shirt to someone who needed it, but would also invite them into his closet to pick out some other stuff they might like. I pray for his happiness, I pray that he feels safe, and loved, and nurtured, accepted and understood. I love all of my children. Kari, down in Minneapolis, forging a life separate from mine, complete with her own distinct set of beliefs and values. I worry about her - is she safe, is she eating well, is she taking her supplements, is she overdoing it. She is my jewel of a daughter, and I respect her strength and her beauty. I love my son Erik, my responsible, strong, so sweet young man, who's making incredible strides out there in the "real" world - I ache for him sometimes, wishing I could make anything bad go away, but I can't. I love my stepson Jordan, who I worry about, sometimes more, and sometimes less, but I DO worry. I wonder if he knows people love him, I wonder if he loves himself, or even knows himself, I wonder how he will BE in this world. And I know that I can't do anything FOR him, he needs to live his own life, but still I feel responsible. And Bill, sweet William - my little Buddha boy. I can't imagine my life without our sweet youngest, those big eyes when they look at me and say, "Choose another thought, Mom," or the way he bumps the side of my head while we're walking to school, my arm around him, and says, "Bump ahead, Mom." (get it? Bump "a head").

Sometimes I love everyone SO much I wonder if I'm leaning too far over into their lives, hoping for certain things, expecting certain behavior, wanting them to live or say or think or be the way I think they should be. That's not unconditional love - that's control (yup - issues, I know), and that's conditional love, and I do it out of love, but that's what every single "good" mother across the globe says - "I do it because I love you," and that's not working for me anymore. I want to walk down my path and feel like I'm solidly on my path, and not looking over at everyone else on their path and saying, "Can I get you anything? How are you feeling? Is that pack too heavy? Here - have all of my water." It just doesn't work anymore - this sacrificial, martyr-like thing that I do, giving everything up kind of mindset. I can feel it in my insides when things start to melt down, as they did last week - then it all feels imbalanced, and I wish I had ALL of my energies back so I could tend to my own life, and make decisions. How much do we do out of responsibility, because we feel accountable to someone for something?

Today I envision myself at the hub of a wheel, and all those I love at the tips of the spokes around the wheel. We are connected, but I'm at the center of my life, balanced and centered. If I feel the urge to lean over into someone else's life, I can ask myself, "Is this serving them in the best way possible for THEIR life?" If the answer is no, or I can't answer the question, chances are the answer is NO, and I might pick another possible action or conversation.

I am feeling sad about a sister, and how I don't feel like I know her anymore, and when I "look" at her I see her standing all alone, sad, but I don't know what else I can say to her, other than what I've already said. She doesn't want any of us in her life, and I feel sad for her, because I know what it feels like to feel all alone. We never really ARE alone, but sometimes we can FEEL that way, and I'm going to keep sending her love, all the while knowing that none of us are responsible for anybody else in this world except ourselves, and our actions and decisions in our lives are just that - OUR actions and OUR decisions - and those are the things that we ARE responsible for.

gentle channel

We lit all of the candles and turned off all the lights. Some of the people lay on the floor with pillows. I sat cross-legged on my "queen's chair" (the one on the left). I started the CD recorder, sat back and closed my eyes. This time it was different. I wasn't in a light green field with my beautiful ancient tree. I was hovering out somewhere in space - it was black and I could see everything all around me. It sounds corny, but it felt like Jodie Foster in "Contact." I'm used to feeling masuline energies as I give my messages, and told everyone to expect that, but I was VERY surprised to hear (and more interestingly to me, to FEEL) the most incredible soft, loving, supportive and gentle feminine energies in my heart. I was talking about us being like orphans who have just found out that we have a family, and not now knowing what that means, so we have to take it slowly to get used to our new way of being connected in the Universe. I said that you can't just "talk" about what "Mother" is, or learn about it in a book - you have to FEEL "Mother" in your heart, feel her when she holds you and strokes your head. This is what will help us in these intense in-between times. I felt so loved, so wanted, and it was perfect.

I spoke for 40 minutes - a new record, I'm thinking. I usually do these messages in the context of formal groups - large numbers of people coming together every week for 4 weeks to help give them concrete ways of understanding themselves better, but this is different - it's a message for everyone about what's going on, about what we may be feeling (upset stomach tops the list right now, due to the stabilization of our energies, causing upheavals), and just a little glimpse into a greater possibility for our lives and the reality of life all around us.

I love my Work - it feeds me - I lay awake at 4AM this morning and put both hands on my heart for a while. They got very hot. Then I moved them both to my stomach (I've been off and on feeling really queasy for 2 1/2 weeks), then around to my back (I've pulled out yet another rib - I HAVE to stop twisting around in my car seat to get stuff out of the back), then over my eyes and on top of my head. It feels so good - this respecting and honoring my body, and that's what I saw that we could be doing for Mother Earth. I saw her core as a trembling golden ball - it's causing reverberations all the way up to the surface because all of us up here are playing our own songs, fighting over each other, trying to get others to play the way we do, and She's sick of it, just like a "real" mother might get - I can just hear Mother Earth shouting on the winds, "Will you all just KNOCK it off, grow up, and start getting along? I am so darned tired of this." Can't you hear Her? So what's the answer? When all of us are quiet, and get centered, and find our Home inside of us, we connect with Spirit, and then we can hear our own unique "Spirit Song," which, when we play it (that is to say, we live our lives authentically and in alignment), we are in harmony with the rest of the world, not dissonant. Even though we all play different instruments and different notes, it's the SAME song - we're on the same page, we're all in rhythm, we are all looking at the same Conductor - it's a beautiful symphony, not a cacophonous mess. And we need to all play together right now, I believe, to make this next leap up together. And I know we'll do it.

Thank you to all who were present last night, thank you to Spirit who gives me such beautiful words of comfort to speak, and thank you to everyone who is incarnate at this time - isn't it an amazing ride?

two things I learned in Bismarck...

Billy and I had an incredible time visiting Mom and Dad - we managed to grocery shop, wash their car, cook dinner, then breakfast, clean out their back closet, office closet AND basement closet (and NO, as a matter of fact MY house isn't as organized as their house is), play Sudoku AND chicken or pig. I am SO grateful that Billy loves his Grammy and Bapa so much, and I'm SO glad he's getting to build some of these memories, because he's pretty young, and they're pretty old, and this whole mortality thing kind of gets in the way of hugs and kisses.

So, while I was cleaning out their office closet I found a bowl that was given to Mom by one of her dear friends that died many years ago. I brought it out to her, and she did the "Ahhhhhhh, it's from Isabel Perry," and I suggested we put it out somewhere so she could look at it and remember Isabel. Dad suggested giving it back to her family, and Mom looked at him like he was slightly crazy. Dad shrugged his shoulders. A light went off in my head - no, seriously, a real light went off, and I suddenly KNEW - I get my family object hoarding tendencies from my mother - I simply cannot get rid of anything that's come from my family (I've got my grandpa's sock garters AND my grandma's hair when she cut it short that one time, for crying out loud), whether it's furniture, dishes, blankets, figurines, or photos. It would be like throwing out the PERSON if I got rid of anything. Now, on the surface I know that's not true, but when Mom did that "ahhhhhhh" I realized I feel the same way. So, as part of my new world I am going through the house and deliberately throwing out or giving away things I've hung onto just because I thought I HAD to, not because I wanted to. In the trash went Dad's old passport from the early 70's - what did I think I could do with that? Make a collage, maybe...

Later on Sunday, Bill, Dad, Mom and I played our famous chicken or pig game with two dice. The object is to get to 100 first, without getting double one's (you lose everything), or even one 1 (you lose your points for that turn). At one point, I rolled a 74. Dad rolled, then asked what I had - I told him 73, so he quit for that turn. Then I rolled, and got an 83. I looked at his current score: 82 - I stopped. And on it went - both of us besting the other by one point each turn, looking slant-eyed at each other like gunshooters at the Okay Corral. Then I got the first 1 - "Oh, honey," Dad said, "you rolled SUCH a beautiful 1 - just LOOK at that one," and on. Then I had my second realization of the day: I get my competitiveness from my DAD. It's a fun competitiveness, like walking down the street with someone, then you pick up your pace, then they go a little faster, then you go faster, and on, but in the end it doesn't really matter who wins - it's just fun to feel that energy of the race while you're in the middle of it (lest you think I'm holier-than-thou, I ALSO get that other kind of competitive that not's so fun and lighthearted, but REALLY cares that I come out on top, but that's a story for another day). By the way, I won that game of chicken and pig...

So I love my mom and dad fiercely. I respect them and look up to them. I love to hear their stories, even if I've heard them a million times - they never get old, those stories, and neither do my mom and dad - they just keep getting deeper to me. I sat with my dad's feet in my lap and rubbed them for a while. This is the closest I can get to perfect happiness, I keep thinking, remembering that time. It is so precious, so perfectly and totally precious, and no meltdowns, or malfunctioning computers, or crooked car dealerships or irresponsible roommates or disrespectful sisters can touch how I feel about my parents. I love them completely - they are the two best people I know, and I will do anything for them.

Okay, so that's THREE things I learned in Bismarck: I also realized how totally I love my parents, and that's a really good thing to learn (and remember).

meltdown

as in, what was once solid is now becoming a mass of liquid, flowing all over, not able to be held in one place, but flowing all over the place. Meltdown is the nuclear reactor core meltdown, when something happens to the nuclear reactor and it's a bad deal - some movie with Jane Fonda in it, as I'm remembering. So everyone's having meltdowns in the past few days - nothing is easy, all parts of their lives are pressing in on them, and we just can't do it anymore, and we don't even know exactly what "it" is, but we know for darned sure that we can't do "it" anymore.

So I'm patient, eternally patient, blissfully patient - I say I can't take it anymore, then I realize I'm blowing smoke - what else CAN we do but take it? And that doesn't seem fair. Yet again, I ask my "higher-ups" to knock it off - lighten up - they have no idea what it's like for us down here in Dense Land, making these changes. It might look easy from up there, like "just forget everything you've ever known, forget how you've ever done anything, and just let everything that's familiar to you just go up in smoke - simpy." Not so simpy - darn hard, downright exhausting at times, scary and tiring. So, what else can I do? Just let go - just stinking let go - don't expect anything, don't grab for anything, don't try to hold onto anything - just let go. So that's what I'm going to do for one week - do you hear that, Guys? You've got exactly ONE WEEK to switch this stuff around, or I might go back to my "try-to-figure-it-out" ways and smack my head against the wall a few times, apparently. See if it will work THIS time. Seriously, it's better than just sitting around, waiting, always waiting.

But on another note: COOL BEANS, Bill, my little Buddha, sitting at Bistro, waiting to pick up our lunch to take home to Mom and Dad. I see a slice of lemon floating in his glass of water. I say, "Bill, try to make it move with your mind," so Bill leans in really close to the glass and stares at the lemon slice. It starts to swirl, not so slowly, around in a circle. I think, well, it must be something that's already happening, so I ask him to let me try it. I lean forward, look closely at the lemon slice, and it promptly stops dead in its spin. So there you go - I wish Bill was older and I'd have him watch "The Matrix" and the segment of the little kids bending the spoons and making the stuff float in the air.

"That's nothing," Bill tells me. "I can also hang spoons all over my face." I look at him - now THAT'S something I have to see.

forbearance...

I will not speak about feeling kicked in the teeth, I will not talk about being brought to my knees. Okay, maybe I will ... just a little bit. It's not the specifics of these various situations all around me that are causing the intensity, but just the fact that it's an energy thing, and things are piling up without resolution (even putting bamboo flooring on our steps - first they sent the wrong color front piece, and now they're out of stock, so we have to carefully walk up and down a rickety, half-finished set of stairs). I know, I know, I ALWAYS say "it's an energy thing," but I can't possibly come up with any other explanation. Why else would I be sitting here at 1:44AM typing, when I should be in bed, resting up to go to Bismarck tomorrow? Not to mention the fact that I fell asleep at 8:30, with Bill still reading his new Sharon Creech novel. So I have already had a GOOD solid 5 hours of sleep, well, 4 since I woke up at 12:45.

It is intense, this current time is - a potential lawsuit on my end with a company (5 months of frustration), Erik going through some unfair times, not being able to have any workable computers (well, this one, sort of), people around me nipping at my heels (and ankles and knees and thighs and arms and on). What is different about this time? I've ALWAYS been able to stay on top of my game, rise above it all, stay optimistic, but I started crying this afternoon, those hot wet tears that just won't stop, and why? Because I couldn't find a software disk for my new computer, then I couldn't remember my new password, and couldn't retrieve it, and all of a sudden, everything just seemed so d**n difficult, like I was trudging uphill in snowstorm. It's usually not difficult. Bill says just not to think about it - that we choose how we're going to feel (little Buddha), and I understand him. I look into his deep eyes and try to pull that knowingness into my own life right now, but I can't seem to.

As I lay in bed I pray: "Dear god - help me understand my lessons right now - how can I see this all from a higher place of understanding - what can I learn right NOW that will help me in my life?" and I hear one word: "forbearance." So of course I go look it up in my "New Age" Merriam-Websters Dictionary, circa 1985.

Forbear: to endure, to do without, to leave alone, to hold oneself back from especially with an effort of self-restraint, TO CONTROL ONESELF WHEN PROVOKED, patient.

So I am feeling provoked right now, prodded as if with a stick, poked, go on, try and bite me, try and get me - jab jab, and I feel like growling and lunging at anyone who's close. I know I'm not perfect, well, wait, yes, I AM perfect, because perfect means "whole," not someone who never does anything "wrong" or "messes up," because if you look at like without judgment (which I work at every day), everything really "just is," so ... I know I'm "whole" and this interests me, it really does - how I can go through my days helping everyone else, giving them expanded information from this beautiful place, and yet I find myself just wanting to curl up and rest my head on someone else's shoulder for a while. I feel tired right now (I know, besides the fact that it's now 1:54AM), and I know this time will pass, so I think I'll go journal for a while and see if I can clear and calm my energies. For right now, right now, I will say that my life feels like things are being "kicked up," and some things will clear and calm back down, and some things will be carried away on the wind, and maybe that's what this time is all about, anyway - raising a ruckus to finally shake the predictable up and make some changes. Because, if nothing changes, nothing changes, and to expect anything different is insanity.

a shot in the arm

The Divine Miss M - Melissa, one of my best friends in the whole world. We started out almost 3 years ago, introduced through a joint friend, Charmaine. We instantly started joking around in this raucous, off-color kind of way that some people don't know I can do (can spiritual people be raucous? Heck yes). I thought she was great. But it wasn't until a year ago in November, during a monthly Reiki gathering, that she put her hands on my heart, and I knew that she knew what I was going through, and I started crying. "Oh honey," she said, and I cried harder.

There started our journey together as soul sisters, for I know we've been sisters in another life, as well as soul sisters and supporters of each other in this life. She selflessly did energy work on me every week for the next 3 months, almost, giving me glimpses into the bigger picture of what was going on in my life, and where I was in this process of ascension and enlightenment. At the tail end, I remember she said I was nearing the summit, barely hanging on, but by jove, I was hanging on, and nothing would stop me. Melissa kept me going until I'd reached that summit, that place that was incredibly hard and difficult to ascend to.

So we continue to swap energy work, and yesterday was our day. It started out normally enough, with me giving her information about her stomach, and what was going on, blah blah, then I instinctively moved to her left elbow and put my left index finger on the inside bend of her elbow. She said at that moment she saw a needle in her head (ugh - I'm thinking, a needle?), then put my right index finger BEHIND her elbow, and held it.

"DON'T MOVE," she commanded, and believe me, when we hear those words, we DON'T MOVE (I've said that to Melissa when her finger was on my third eye and it prompted an unbelievable vision one time). So I didn't move. The energy started at her feet, she said, then swirled up her left side and jumped over to her right side. It felt very hot, she said, and she almost started slurring her words. At the very least, her speech slowed down (and if you know Melissa, that is quite a feat), and she found it hard to say anything. She said she felt lifted out of her body, and was looking down, she said she was in another place and there were men in white robes standing around (that was part of my vision I'd had when SHE was touching my third eye), and they were talking. Our Guys, our Teachers, our Helpers - hanging out, and she was there. She didn't want to leave, but the energy was very intense as it was coursing through my body to open her up, so I asked her to tell me when she'd had enough.


"Keep it going," she said, very studly-like, so I kept going until we could both feel the energy softening to a drip-drip-drip. It was heavy all around her, so I did some extensive above-body energy clearing until she felt more integrated, light, and more cooled down from the hot energy of those high frequencies.

"She will never be sick again," I heard, so I relayed it to Melissa.

Huh? Never be sick again - now, THAT'S pretty heavy, but cool, at the same time.

This was a definite gift - she heard it and so did I. And we give each other these gifts all the time. A back and forth, I'm here for you, babes, you're not alone - don't get scared - everything is all right. And we need that right now, everyone does, I think, friends and loved ones who are RIGHT HERE - who are our cheerleaders, our shoulders to cry on, our confidantes (Melissa gave me permission to blog this experience), our safety nets, our "aloe vera plants" as Melissa says (soothing and healing). We all need a shot in the arm sometimes, and not only did Melissa get hers yesterday, but I did, too. We do not operate in a vacuum - our lives affect others, our thoughts and behaviors all affect others - we are all connected.

And for MY part, I am SO eternally blessed and grateful to have my own Missy Pooh in my life - I got your back, Missy, and you definitely have mine. Thank you.

honorable

Bill is 8; his older brothers are 20 and 19. He rarely gets to do anything first. If the boys get there first, they do it first - Bill doesn't get a voice. This behavior hits me a little sideways as I was the youngest of 5, and rarely got to do anything first, either, so when Bill and Erik and I started our quest for Guitar Hero 3, Bill said, I want to play it first." Fair enough, as Erik played Guitar Hero 2 AND Rocks the 80's first.

"No," Erik told him, "I'M going to play it first - you're going to climbing club. It's no big deal. You can play it second."

Bill slumped down a little in the back seat - he would never win with his older brother.

Erik stayed in the car while Bill and I went into Toys 'r Us. "I want to play the game first," Bill told me.

"Okay," I told him after we'd miraculously FOUND the game, "You can play it first, but I'll keep it in my purse until you get home from climbing, then you can play it first."

Bill thought that was a good idea. We got into the car, and when Erik asked me if we'd found the game, I "honestly" replied, "We had to look all over for it." We HAD, but I didn't tell him we'd eventually found it.

Bill started squirming in the back seat, and by the time we'd pulled up to the Y to let him out for climbing club, he pulled the bag from my purse and said, "What's this?"

Erik started bitching at Bill for being so stupid about wanting to play the game first, and told him he was going home right now to play it.

Bill looked really small. Then Erik turned on me and said it was shady of me to have kept it from him. I told him, "The interesting part about all of this is that your little brother didn't want to keep anything from you, so knowing you'd be playing the game first, he still chose to be honest with you and tell you we had the game."

I hugged Bill and told him he'd done the right thing, and told him it was okay. Steve came to watch Bill, and Erik and I went home so I could start dinner early and give Bill some really good Halloweening time. As I fried the chicken breast in olive oil, I could hear the music playing in the background, but I realized it was the music from Guitar Hero TWO, not 3. When Bill got home, he was the first to play Guitar Hero 3.

There are three things about this that strike me, and they are this: One - Bill was the most honorable one of us three - he didn't want to do something that made him feel funny (as a parent this makes me feel REALLY good, and I pray he keeps that conscience his whole life), and two - Erik was very kind to let his little brother play first and three - I was not honorable, and that doesn't make me feel very good. I didn't exactly LIE, but I certainly didn't tell the truth, and that's probably just the same.

Thank you, Bill, for being you - I love you fiercely. Thank you, Erik, for giving your little brother a break - he looks up to you so much. And thank you, Universe, for giving me yet another opportunity to see how my actions affect me and the world around me. Maybe next time I will choose something different. I sincerely hope so.