Overwhelm - Overjoyed

The insecurity, fear, self doubt, self criticism, things which had been said several years ago, unkind things, things which I allow to cut deep, wound, diminish 'me' and now creep back in, oh, all the frightful feelings which stir in this haunted soul as I prepare to speak; prepare to move outside my safety zone, away from my little country home to expose myself, open up, share...share 'me'. Can blame be placed on PMDD, PTSD, oozing humanness, or quite simply, is it just me? Gathering my last thoughts, reviewing, pleading to be buoyed up, praying to be used as a vessel of God/Goddess, to be a whisper from the Universe; self asked, "Have you not learned; have you not remembered?" On this, my 49th year journey, while my soul is haunted, I can learn, remember, grow some more...Joy abounds, is within, and surrounds the JOurneY; it is simply the placement of the 'c' & 'a' which alters 'scared' to 'sacred', and if you believe then trust...

"...no one can snatch them out of my hand..." John 10:28

"Be still and know I am God..." Psalm 46:10

"Be strong and courageous...He will never leave you nor forsake you." Deuteronomy 31:6

Wacky, Wondrous, Whatever, What If Wednesday #11

NEVER EVER GIVE UP IN LIFE

Length: ‎4:48 (couldn't get this to come up so you can view it from here, maybe a left click on the picture or if you're not on Facebook, maybe do a search for Vishal Ravi video's)

 

This video is being shared on Facebook. I had difficulty posting it here but I hope you have an opportunity to view it. What if...

~~~

Just waking from a morphine doze one mid-morning during my hospital stay (see post Alice, My Legs, & Me), I saw my dad sitting along side the bed. He was weeping; I don't think I'd ever seen my dad cry before. I was able to give him an unspoken reassuring smile which imparted, "It's going to be okay."

 

After his visit, alone in my hospital room, I thought, here's my dad weeping for me; for the uncertainty of my survival, the uncertainty of life, the difficulty, pain, changes, challenges, which lie before me; a love so strong that he wished it was him in this bed and not his daughter.

 

It made me think of my Heavenly Father. How much does He weep for me? How much more does He love me? A love unfathomable, incomprehensible...a love so strong, not just for me in my struggle, but for all of us; and He did, He knows, He weeps...

 

If the only thing I gained from my loss is this slight glimpse of God's amazing love for me, well, for it I am eternally grateful.

 

Whatever comes our way may we feel His arms around us, may we feel His wondrous love, may we "Never Ever Give Up In Life."

 

Father's Day Wish

I just released the last three butterflies. I barely got out the door and opened the habitat when one eager butterfly flew off, making me smile. The other two kind of hung out in the safety of the habitat, most of them do and I reach in, let them crawl onto my hand and then place them on a flowering shrub. These two, again decided to linger, right there, spreading their wings, soaking up the sunshine whenever it popped out from the clouds on this some what rainy Father's Day. Seeing they wanted to hang out for a moment I decided to get my camera. They looked so beautiful, so peaceful. After a few photos I said, "Go on, be flyer's." But they stayed, tip toeing on top of the flower head and gracefully fluttering their wings open and closed. Then it dawned on me, they are asking if I had a wish for them to take towards the heavens. Butterflies like to do that you know, carry a wish on their wings. So I did. On one butterfly I wished that my dad would speak to my sister's heart today. She misses Dad so much. I do too, but not like my sis does. Upon the wings of the other butterfly I wished that Jeff would speak to the hearts of each of our fabulous five. I know how much they miss their dad. So many things, so many changes, so much growing up, so much they want to tell him, so much miss. And do you know what those butterflies did next...delivered the wishes.

Happy Father's Day

Alice, Me, & My Legs

A confession; for as many times as I have referenced Alice, on this, my 49^th year journey, I have not yet fully read “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” nor “Through the Looking Glass.” I have, however, watched a few versions of the movie which provided enough for me to comfortably simulate her. Recently I began to wonder, how much like Alice am I? I know I am curiouser and curiouser; I know I’ve had many adventures and, although it seems I have been tossed down the rabbit’s hole unexpectedly, I’m not sure how far down the rabbit’s hole I’m willing to venture, not yet anyway.

Alice is a girl who yearns for wisdom, seeks self discovery, and aspires to overcome hindrances encountered along her adventures. Yes, this too I can relate. She holds on to hope and faith as well as looking for the goodness in all she meets. These are qualities which, at times may quiver, I do desire.

It takes Alice time to realize she is a very reasonable girl in what often seems quite an unreasonable world.  Coming to an awakening of the power of her own intuition maybe her greatest realization. Somewhere, along the past 49 years, this is something I have lost but so deeply and desperately long to regain.

For a few moments I wrestled with myself that this is real life not a fairy tale. “Yes, but who’s the writer?” Abruptly, the self debate ended when I thought there are adventures which come into life when we might rather have Disney Imaginers, even Tim Burton write the story. At least then we’d know the scariest part of the adventure would be over in less than two hours.

One such adventure occurred the evening of Memorial Day 1997. Jeff needed to return a tractor trailer (18 wheeler) to the construction yard so it could be used the next day. I would drive to the yard to bring him back home.

We had a long woven organic looking throw rug at the front door. It was forever getting bunched up which caused everyone to hate this rug except me. I instinctively straightened it out with my foot every time, kind of like a little two step between us. This evening was no exception except that I noticed the dance; feeling the movement of my toes and the rugs knotted weavings.

As I slipped my want-to-be Birkenstocks on and headed out the door I yelled, “Mommy will be right back, I’m going to go get Daddy.” As I walked across the grass, I was aware of its coolness and the how the each blade softly tickled. “I really must mow tomorrow.” I barely got across the yard when our 4 year old son came charging out after me banging the screen door as he always did, “I wanna go with ya!” I turned around in time to catch him as he leaped into my arms. Carrying him to the truck, something a friend had recently said to me came to mind, “When are you going to stop packing that kid on your hip, he’s almost as big as you are.”

“You are getting so big,” I said as I put him in next to me.

I recall it being a hot Las Vegas evening; the air conditioner was blasting on high. I don’t recall the songs on the radio but it was turned up; nor do I recall the conversation but I do know there is no better conversation then that between a 4 year old and his mommy.

We arrived at the construction yard before my husband. As he came around the corner I said, “Look, here comes Daddy in the big truck. Stay right here I’m going to go open the gate for him.”

Leaving the engine running, the air conditioner blasting, and the radio on, I went to hop out of the truck. As I touched the door handle a voice clearly said, “Julie, don’t get out of this truck.”

Hopping out of the truck, I turned to my son, as if the voice somehow came from him, and replied, “Don’t be silly I’ve done this a million times.”

Upon touching the lock on the gate, the voice spoke again, “Julie, don’t open this gate.”

Rolling the gate open, I said, “I’ve done this a million times; it’s only an act of courteousness.”

I was standing against the gate, the gate was up against the wall of the building, as wide open as it could be, allowing plenty of space to pass. Jeff pulled up and said something to me. I politely nodded but couldn’t actually hear what he said, his voice was drowned out over the blaring alarm and the loud diesel engine. After parking I  knew he would be several minutes; so once he passed through I would shut the gate and wait with our son.

Jeff had driven the truck through and I glanced to the right to see how much more of the trailer had to pull in. The next thing I recall is lying cross way completely under the trailer. I thought, “This is really not a good place to be.”  I knew I had to tuck myself in or the back passenger side tires would run over my head. Looking to my left, I began to curl myself into a fetal position; then watch as the last two sets of driver side tires ran over my legs. The last set turned me a quarter turn and I watched as Jeff continued to slowly drive on. The trailer was fully loaded with dirt and gravel; there was so much weight he had no idea he had run me over.

Everything was in slow motion. It seemed he’d traveled miles yet it was just a few feet when I finally saw the brake lights go on. I watched him jump out of the tractor dialing on his cell phone. At this point I thought, “This has got to hurt. I had better wake up.” I hadn’t even finished the thought when the searing pain hit. I let out a cry that came from so deep within being; it sounded foreign to me. When I saw the look in Jeff’s eyes I knew this wasn’t good, I thought it was fixable, but not good.

I told him to go stay with our son; I didn’t want my boy to climb out of the truck wondering what was taking Mommy so long. Once Jeff left my side I attempted to sit up to take a look. Both of my legs were still in tack. From the knees down, there was no skin remaining on either leg. They were a mangled, broken mess, bent in a grotesque way. My feet were there with skin, except for one toe. My left sandal was about to fall off. I kept willing my foot to wiggle it back on, but it wouldn’t respond. With each frantic beat of my heart I could feel warm blood puddling deeper around me. I knew I was dying.

It’s quite odd the flurry of thoughts which go through one’s mind at such times. I never once thought about how much paperwork I had to get done, the phone calls needing to be made, the dinner dishes on the table, the mountain of laundry, the yard needing mowed, or any of the other things I’d typically be concerned with. Yes, my life did flash before me and in between the life flashes I kept thinking two conscious thoughts; one was I never thought this would be the way I would die and the other, I couldn’t remember, as I ran out the door, if I told my kids I loved them.

While all this was going on in my head, there was a continuous ebb and flow of intense panic and intense peace. During the panic I’d let out such horrific sounds from fear and pain; during the peace I became so comfortable and accepting of death, I even clearly recall thinking, “If this is dying, I can do this.”

At some point, the yard watchman came and stayed with me while waiting for the paramedics. I was so thirsty, I begged for a glass of water. The first responder was a North Las Vegas Police Officer who happens to be a family friend. As he approached I was relieved to see a bright light coming towards me and thought, “Yes, it’s the white light.” But too quickly it went away. I later came to find it was a “Cops” film crew was doing a ride along with the officer. My husband stopped them and once they saw me, they decided shut off.

Time took on a whole new dimension. The thought process I had should have taken hours, yet it was only a matter of minutes. When the paramedics arrived they went right into action. I felt the cold scissors cutting off my shorts, oxygen, needles, no pain meds though; all the while I kept grabbing the EMT’s collar pulling him down towards me, “You have to let my kids know I love them.”

I remained awake and alert until I was wheeled into the first of many surgeries. That night, doctors had to take my right leg above the knee. They reconstructed my left leg, however, with the extensive blood loss it never took. I watched my toes, peeking out of the bandages, turn black. Eventually, piece by piece, I lost my left leg just below the knee. The partial knee has major damage and is quite fragile but I’m grateful to have it. Much of the skin and muscle tissue on my left leg was lost resulting in a large area of skin grafting and the main artery ends just above the knee.

There were many stories from my three month stay in the hospital. There are many stories yet to be told and many more yet to be had on this adventure of my life. For now, this is the one which needed to be shared.

Towards the end of “Through the Looking Glass,” the White Queen says to Alice, “Take care of yourself. Something is going to happen.”

Wacky, Wondrous, Whatever, What If Wednesday #10

Oh my, how very silly of me not even realizing it is Wednesday, so here's a quick one.

Wacky - On this my 49th year I'm getting more wacky, not realizing it's Wednesday and huge confession from last night, I steamed broccoli, or thought I did, but didn't add water, now that's scary wacky, oh and Cadbury just fell into the irrigation ditch in the yard and loved it, wacky dog, it kinda looked fun, wacky me.

Wondrous - My butterflies are emerging from their chrysalis', hooray, I'll be sending them off with a wish, all 25 of these beautiful, wondrous, creatures.

Whatever - I went for a 14 mile ride on the hand cycle yesterday, thanks to my coach/trainer/friend Travis cause I wouldn't have done it without him pushing me, I didn't beat this massive hill, nope, not quite to the top, it kicked my butt, but, whatever, I will kick it soon enough, I also wore shorts and got a lot of stares as people weren't really sure they were seeing a no legged, skin grafted, middle aged, sweaty woman hand cranking a bike (trike), and I thought, go ahead and stare, whatever, I don't care.

What If - What if for one week the weeds didn't grow, the dog didn't poop, the aphids didn't eat, and there was world peace, what if...

Whew, there you have it. See how easy it is to have a wacky, wondrous, whatever, what if Wednesday?

June's Full Moon

Today is the full moon. Among other names, this moon is known as the Sun Moon, Strawberry Moon, and Rose Moon. Full moons have a powerful influence but this one wields even greater energy not only because it's the full moon which welcomes in the solstice but because it's also a full lunar eclipses.

I have been asked to speak at the end of the month. Speaking isn't new to me as I have spoken many, many times since losing my legs 14 years ago. However, since Jeff's passing in 2006, I have only spoken 3 times. This talk, while it will be a healthy endeavor for me, has been a difficult one to prepare for, basically I have been avoiding doing it. Oh, I have been given a creative topic, easy to work off of, I have all the main points, subject matters; it's all here, in my head; unfortunately its completely disarrayed, unwilling to be jotted down, written out. There is a great divide between me and the paper, me and the exposure of the 'words.' I ask, "Why?" Why do I sweep it back under the proverbial rug?

As always, I pray and trust God will use me and my life as a vessel for His glory. In my avoidance to 'write' I also realize many friends haven't heard my story of the loss of my legs. In fact, I have a friend who only recently realized the event which took my legs is a separate event from Jeff's death. It's again time to journey the path which has lead me here and to share some of the surrounding scenery with those who venture my way. Not just new friends but with life long friends and family. I have been blessed with eternal lessons through my experiences, which are worthy to share.

As I awoke this morning, anxious to welcome this full moon, I decided, even if today's full moon energy creates additional lunacy within me, I am going to tap into, wrap myself around sweet Luna's force and ride her moon beams to my advantage. She is always a willing companion. Let her light so shine that I may expose the experiences, lessons, ideas, pains, joys, realities neatly swept away, in fact, I shall sweep them out and illuminate them under her wonderfully, brilliant, white, healing, light. In so doing my heart and soul beseech God, Goddess, and Sweet Luna in her fullness that together we may create, write, expose the 'words' to a talk, to a life, to lives strong like the Sun, juicy like a summery strawberry, and beautiful like a rose. Shine within Full Moon. Shine on Full Moon.

My Gift To You

To my family and friends; a simple gift I give.

When the winds of change come please take this gift of wildflowers.

Each flower represents something which I believe will help you to carry on.

5 is a dynamic number which also represents change

the 'words' are 5 letter words

7 - 5 letter 'words' - trust, quiet, jesus, peace, faith, dance, grace

7 is a magical, mystical, spiritual number which also represents

the desire to know hidden truths.

As I was working outside, the last area I weeded was around my lavender bushes. They are almost ready to bloom and they are divinely intoxicating. I kept brushing against them to release more of their aroma. So, this gift is scented with lavender; inhale deeply and take it in; mmmhmmm now you are filled with calm.

I am having so much fun and experiencing such discovery at the 21 Secrets Playground.

If you're interested go here http://www.dirtyfootprints-studio.com/

This journal page was inspired by

Natasha at http://www.creativenachos.com/ and

Lisa at http://www.wildcreativeheart.com/

"Speech is in all things. The people of Atitlan believe that the nature of anything is its speech. The nature of grass to grow is the speech of the spirit of grass. The flowering of trees is the speech of a tree's spirit, as is the time of year when they flower. So when the Deity of that season speaks one of its phrases, the trees flower."   ~   Martin Prechtel, Secrets of the Talking Jaguar

This wonderful quote was found as part of an email I received. It seems so fitting for what I have been awakening some more to. I hope you take a moment and let the words really speak to you. Speech is in all things; speech is not only what you do; Speech is calling within you to be. Remember, "Deep calls to deep." I'm coming to the simple understanding, for us as humans unlike grass, trees, jaguars, butterflies, etc., we have the priviledge and freedom of choice. Such power maybe what prevents mefrom hearing the Speech.

Your Deity is speaking. Can you recognize the voice? Can you hear the whisper? Are you listening with your spiritual ears; from the heart of your soul?

Wacky, Wondrous, Whatever, What If Wednesday

Isn’t it just so dagblasted cool when you acknowledge an underlying theme as it pulses through your life? If you have read my previous few posts, and if you can somewhat grasp my wacky way of thinking, you’ll get a glimpse of this path of ‘words;’ for it is the untapped power of ‘words’ which has coursed through my being for over a week now. Not just ‘words’ but the vibrational, life altering, energetic power of ‘words.’

Last night I had an unusual dream. In the dream there was a great earthquake, so great it surfaced and opened graves. At first I felt uncomfortable, not afraid, but uncomfortable being surrounded by these graves popping up and opening around me. But my feeling soon changed and I felt as if I was in the midst of a garden on the verge of bloom as beautiful spirit filled souls emerged. Two of these souls were women who engaged in an enthralling, enlightening, lengthy conversation with me.

I wish I could tell you what was said in the conversation, but as usual I can’t recall the words, the spoken words that is. I know however, they were of great importance, so thus, I know the power of which these ‘words’ contained. My dream was another reminder to awaken, and as I have said prior this week, to awake some more.

Before journaling my thoughts this morning, I decided to get caught up on some of the mail from my inbox. One piece of mail I hadn’t yet read is an article from Hogue Prophecy.  This writing of Mr. Hogue’s is the second of a series entitled “Tornado Diary.”  John Hogue’s article can be found here http://hogueprophecy.com/2011/06/tornado-diary-part-2-springfield-tornado-hurricane-season/. In the article he writes, “They will forget about 2010 when faced with even worse climate violence in 2011. They will simply blink at the new norm.” He later continues, “Now the corporate mainstream media begins mollycoddling people with a new bromide, rather than cite the global climate emergency, they now indoctrinate the boobs watching the tube that this is “the new normal.”

I’m not a global warming fanatic, however, it is evident to me something is up with Mother Nature, our Earth Goddess. She is speaking, are we listening, can we hear, or are we “simply blinking at the new norm.”

After getting caught up with my inbox, I went to Facebook to see what my friends have going on today. For the past few mornings when I log on, I seek friends who affirm the morning, their day, as I desire to acknowledge their sweet comments and ask that the day bless them in return. While skimming through my feed I came across this http://jamieridlerstudios.ca/wishcasting-wednesday-begin. Wish Casting Wednesday sounds way more magical and fun then Wacky, Wondrous, Whatever, What If Wednesday, alas, at least it’s out there and what a wonderful idea.

Typically I greet the day from bed while going through my rise and shine process. Today, I took it one step further and greeted the day from outside. I brushed my hands across the herbs to release their magnificent scents and breathed them in. I looked under the strawberry leaves and acknowledge the tiny berries just beginning to burst with juicy color. I thanked the corn for popping up in the garden and I whispered to the lavender, lambs ear, and delphinium that I cannot wait to see their beautiful flowering selves. I held a prayer in my heart, I casted a Wednesday wish, for our Mother Earth and for those who are fighting battles whether God/Goddess given, man-made, or self inflicted. I extra wished for those who felt the battles were too great to win, too out of control, like the wild fire in Arizona.

Before I wheeled back into the house I closed my eyes, lifted my face to the morning sun and welcomed his warm kiss. I wondered, what if, what if more of us did this; what if we casted a wish each Wednesday, what if I casted a really good, specific wish each Wednesday; what if we simply made this the norm, what if I simply made this the norm; what if we would just awaken some more, what if I continued to awaken some more. How would this individual and collective consciousness affect our individual and collective reality? Can you imagine what if….

A Lesson from Bleeding Hearts

Really, what is up with Mother Nature? The wind here in our little country town is behaving so badly; it's a mean, mean wind, it ripped all the leaves off one of the tiny grape vines. I keep hoping the old barn doesn’t end up in the orchard across the way. Not to mention, I’m still wearing long sleeves, and it's June.

New Harmony is far from the only place Mother Nature is causing havoc and the things she’s allowed to happen elsewhere are far worse than this miserable wind we’re experiencing. Getting morning news updates, my thoughts, prayers, wishes are sent out to those affected by and battling the out of control wild fire in Arizona. The forest this fire is ravaging is beautiful and serene. I am grateful and blessed to have been through parts of it a few years ago.

There’s also additional flooding from the Missouri River as well as recent flooding from the Mississippi. And, the death toll has risen from the recent tornados as folks are still rummaging and clearing through what was once home; from what will be home again.

Resiliency, prayers, miracles, renewal, unity; oh from the rubble and debris such magnificence can, does, and will surface.

As I was outside attempting to gather the lawn chairs, their cushions, the welcome mat and welcome sign, as I watched leaves and branches rip off my shrubs, trees, flowers, and see a large hawk lose control in mid flight, I said to Mother Nature something like, “What the hell, you need a script for Zanax, missy.”

Right after I said it I canceled my comment, one because of what I posted yesterday and my desire for my consciousness to affect reality and two because all I kept thinking after was the old ‘I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter’ TV commercial; you know the one that said, “You can’t fool Mother Nature.”  

Mother Nature might not answer the question, “Why; why are you doing this?” But she does have much to say and it isn’t always in a harsh tone, even when her fury seems to be harshly sweeping through; even when we may not have a kind word to offer her.

During my gathering time outside and after my comment which I canceled, I noticed the little bleeding hearts I’d planted. Cadbury, the dog, had trampled them weeks ago breaking their fragile limbs. Shortly after Cadbury, BabyCat found the broken limbs and withering leaves fun items to bat and pounce on. Yes, they were still damaged, torn, and crushed but to my surprise there were also new little hearts which had emerged from the wounds.

Oh, sweet Mother Nature, Mother Earth whispered to me and filled my own heart with her Motherly love. Through the trauma, neglect, abuse, out of wounds, despair, disfigurement these little bleeding hearts still bloomed. They didn't feel sorry for themselves, or too ugly, or useless. No they saw their own strength, their own beauty, they knew of their divinity and their place in this world; they heard their call and answered, quietly, silently amongst the howling wind and against the sprinklers water burst; knowing maybe no one will notice them, no one will hear them, no one will care; yet they created and bloomed anyway.

I am grateful, honored, and blessed that I was able to notice, to hear, to relate, to learn; yes may I learn.

Word

“If you can’t see God in all, you can’t see God at all.”

Yogi Bahjan

 “Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.” Psalm 42:7 New International Version. In prior writings I have referenced this scripture, not in its whole only in its opening, for the opening of this Psalm sings within my being so very, very often, “deep calls to deep.”

Wednesday morning I awoke foreign to my life. I wrote, “What is this odd feeling pulsing thru my soul, rising up in my spirit? What caused the stir demanding my attention? Why am I at a loss as how to recognize it? Why am I more afraid to ignore it then to welcome it?” All week I have contemplated the odd feeling and had concluded it was simply an awakening; but an awakening to what? As I dwelled upon the ‘awakening’ I kept sensing I was already ‘awake’ to it however odd it continued to be for me. Finally, this morning it dawned on me as “deep calls to deep” filled my head and began to sing and dance within my being.

There are times we have awakenings and there are times when we are already awake to a truth but must move to a deeper level or, to paraphrase Sue Monk Kidd from her book "The Dance of the Dissident Daughter”, to awaken some more. The truth, the becoming more awake, the odd feeling I’m having is the power, energy, life force contained in words. Not only spoken or written but thoughts, creation, emotions, deeds, actions for actions speak louder than words, all comes down simply to an invocation of words for even if we express visually, silently, words are used to define and understand and in return, like an ebb and flow, more thoughts, emotions, ‘words’ are invoked.

With this comprehension of ‘words’, recall the childhood rhyme, “Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me.” It really ought to go like this, “Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can break my heart.” Words can be damaging, harmful, disabling but words can also heal, inspire, motivate; even the simplest of words can convey the most complex of thoughts, emotions, energies. Words can be in constant motion, sending out, being received or they can be held within, planted in the heart, disabling and healing, defining and redefining.

Last week I signed up for another workshop from www.DirtyFootprints-Studio.com, 21 Secrets. It’s a fabulous journaling workshop; actually, it’s a playground of 21 mini workshops given by 21 amazingly talented, gifted, artists, including Connie Hozvicka who is the dream maker/creator. The first playground I decided to go is entitled “Three Little Words,” lead by Aimee Myers Dolich of www.artsyville.blogspot.com. I don’t want to give away any ‘secrets’ from the playshop but trust me, I had a blast here and came to realize, or came to a deeper depth of realization of the power of words; three little words. Who knew so much could be said with only three little words. Who knew six little words could tell a story.  Think about this for a moment, really, do give some thought to three little words, any three, and feel their power, their energy, their ‘new’ meaning.

It’s not just the words alone but the tone or delivery with the words which can alter the emotions, energies, the words. I’ll choose the phrase, “yeah, you’re right.” If I were in a debate I want to end, I probably would roll my eyes, then in a flat, but firm frustrated monotone voice say, “yeah, you’re right,” or if recognizing someone is really right about something, with a light bulb flashing over my head, a sparkle in my eyes, silly smile on my face, I’d say with a bit of a high pitch yet sweet exclamation voice, “yeah, you’re right!”

This was only the beginning of the ‘odd feeling’, the ‘deep calls to deep’. What drew me further down the rabbit’s hole ties in with a thought I posted on May 5^th.  It’s a thought I had during a closing meditation at yoga class, in the post I wrote, “…the depth of our being is as far reaching, as vast, as eternal, as expanding as the universe. Going within oneself is as a journey beyond; beyond the known, beyond the boundaries, beyond the beyond…”

In the practice of Kundalini Yoga as taught by Yogi Bhajan, PhD it is thought that the universe was created by sound. He is quoted, “In the stillness lies the sound which is the creative existence of God.” In the scriptures, John 1:1, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Throughout the creative process in Genesis it reads, “And God said, let there be…and there was.” Alright, I’ll even throw this out there for anyone who prefers to stay away from scripture and yoga and prefers the Big Bang Theory; a big bang would have made quite a sound.

Recently, I had come across a video supposedly of NASA’s Voyager’s recording of sounds from space. It was quite fascinating to me but then I recalled reading once there can’t be sound in space because there’s no air in space. All of this became much too mind boggling for an already self induced overly boggled mind so why I even entertained this was beyond me except for it reminded me of one of my favorite movies, “What the Bleep Do We Know.” In this movie it introduces a study of water by Dr. Masaru Emoto. He also wrote about his study in his book called “The True Power of Water” where he further discusses his theory of Hado. Dr. Emoto says, “Hado is the intrinsic vibrational pattern at the atomic level in all matter, the smallest unit of energy. Its basis is the energy of human consciousness.”

 I’m sliding down the rabbit’s hole now…I have said often the keys to peace are prayer and meditation. Both can be vocalized through word/mantra or in thought; both set and/or send energy, a flow, a communicative vibration; both are conscious acts. Dr. Emoto, through his water crystal study, determined our consciousness affects our reality.

Every year for the past 14 years, I purchase caterpillars. I continue to be awed and dazzled by their metamorphosis. One year when I received the caterpillars there were about three which were really puny, not sure they would make it runts. So, having just watched “What the Bleep Do We Know” and following Dr. Emoto’s idea, I posted positive, loving affirmations around the puny caterpillars as well as speaking to them several times a day and offering prayers. Reminding them they were beautiful and lovely butterflies, full of potential, I greeted them each morning and blew them good night kisses. Not only did those three little caterpillars flourish they were also the first to form their chrysalis.

One of my daughters is a teacher and I purchase caterpillars for her students every year. I love to share this dagblasted, amazing, miraculous thing of which I have learned so many lessons. Heather tells her students about the runts I had and how they were offered affirmations. I am touched year after year hearing how some of her students choose to offer affirmations to their own caterpillars.

This year her school day is split with two groups of about 32 students each. One of the groups is all boys, all 4^th grade boys. I was a little concerned about sending caterpillars knowing how rambunctious 9 year old boys can be. Heather laid down caterpillar rules and told them the story of written, spoken, and felt affirmations. She called me telling me this group of rowdy 4^th grade boys would come in each day and quietly, politely, respectfully, tenderly greet their caterpillars. They wrote positive notes to their caterpillars. How sweet is that! What a great teacher; whether they know it or not, all of her students receive a lesson on how consciousness affects reality.

 This morning, while skimming through my Facebook page I noticed several people had posted “it’s a beautiful morning” or “it’s an awesome morning” and I thought what if such affirmations were made every morning by more people, not just in word written or spoken but in thought, sound, emotion, song, dance, with a deep calling to deep conscious passion of ‘words’. How would it affect reality?

Prayer and meditation are conscious acts for me, but how conscious; could I take them to a deeper level of consciousness? What about my time outside of prayer and meditation, or, what about my sub-conscious, does it not affect reality? How much more conscious can I go; how deep, how aware, can I awake some more? And, why is it that I’m more afraid to ignore ‘words’ then to welcome them? Could it be time to move the ‘words’ around, create new combinations of three little words? Am I awakening more to my true divinity, the true divinity in everything and everyone? Psalms 82:6 “I have said, ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High.” I am a child, a goddess, of the Word; each of us are.

I am left with more questions than answers, which is fine, for I am going to awake some more. It is time to take Psalms 42:7 and apply the whole of it, “Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.”  I am ready for the sound, the roar of God’s waterfalls and the ebb and flow of His waves and breakers to sweep over me, and sweep over me again. He is the Word; ‘words’ shall ebb and flow. Deep shall call to deep, beyond the beyond, on this my 49^th year may I awake to my true divinity with grace, gratitude, and responsibility of ‘words’.

PS I just noticed from the book "The True Power of Water" its publisher is Beyond Words Publishing......;)

Wacky, Wondrous, Whatever Wednesday #8

The weather is, just, well, wacky. I want to play outside but I want to dictate the weather. I’d call for no wind; a slight breeze would be acceptable. I’d allow the wind to remain only long enough to blow the high cloud covering away; as I want to feel warm; not hot; warm, sunshine. But, as I look out the open window I can see the tall, wild rye grasses engaging in a wacky dance with the wind which can’t seem decide from which way it’ll blow. And, since the window is open, the wind’s blowing is causing the window covering to join in the dance. I could close the window but I keep hoping for the breath which blows in to be warm instead of the wacky chill that it is. Besides, the way the window covering smacks against the window frame it creates a beat which joins the windy howl creating a rhythm for the dance.

The weather isn’t the only wacky thing. I feel more wacky then usual or maybe I ought to refer to this as I’m feeling out of whack. I awoke this morning feeling oddly foreign to my own life. I’ve kind of just wheeled about thinking this oddly wacky feeling would dissipate but as the morning progressed the feeling has grown more odd. I want to dictate the feeling, which one would think would be easier to dictate to then the weather, but like the weather, it’ll have no part of my dictation to it.  And, in its wacky oddity, I feel more afraid to ignore it then to welcome it, neither of which I’ve done at this point, mostly because I’m not sure how to ignore it or how to welcome it; I only know there is no dictating it. And like the wind it can’t seem to decide from which direction it’ll blow through my being.

I picked up a paint brush but suddenly felt as if I didn’t know what to do with it. I went to begin writing down thoughts for an upcoming talk but felt as if I had no thoughts at all. I opened the book I’m reading and felt as if I’d forgotten how to read.

I decided to take a warm shower hoping to wash the wackiness away. I only found myself exasperated as the wacky didn’t wash down the drain with the soap and water and I’d forgotten to grab my towel prior to getting into the shower. Oh, how I hate slipping and sliding into my wheelchair, drippy wet and cold to get a towel. This isn’t the first time I’ve done that, forgotten the towel. But this time it dawned on me that there’s a simple solution. Place a hook next to the shower bench and keep a towel hanging there. Why I never thought of it before, I don’t know, but how simple is that?

Could the solution to the wacky odd feeling be the same; will it simply dawn on me? I hope so, for I feel this ‘feeling’ is a turning point, an awakening, a change of course, far too important, far too essential to ignore (although ignoring maybe easier/safer) on this my 49^th year journey.