Almost There

2008 peeks out and I can see, as clearly as the next person, the rays of its dawn on the horizon.

I've never been one for major resolutions. Yet, it's impossible not to reflect and come up with vague notions of what might be better behaviors or objectives when the calendars change. Not that I've ever needed a particular occasion to decide I want to up and change in an effort to make my life better, richer and most importantly, more fun, more peaceful and more joyous.

This year's different. I have an interest in recognizing, appreciating and honoring the upcoming calendar change. It's an undeniable urge. Up until a few days ago I was in a bit of funk about it all because, as clear as it was that things were changing, that I was changing, I couldn't seem to grasp its amorphous form.

It was bothersome to have such a drive to set new goals for 2008 while at an utter loss to identify what those goals might be. In a society that specializes in creating want, here I was not wanting. Worse than weird, I felt wrong for my mental state of wantlessness.

I don't have everything, that's for sure. I've got plenty to dream over, that oceanfront Caribbean condo for starters. But the reality is that even there, to claim it as a true want is a stretch. Do I really want to be responsible for the upkeep of a distant property, checking on it regularly, paying for maintenance while I live elsewhere? Why do all that when I can afford to rent by the day or week what I need when I have the time and interest to be there. I just can't get into owning for owning's sake, participating in the massive consumerist unconcsiousness that continues to wreak havoc on people, nations and our planet.

Not to say that I am not equally twisted up in the web of wanting, it's just that on some occasions, when the light hits an area just so, the glaring stupidity of wanting just because there's something out there I don't have becomes inescapable.

With that on my mind, setting materialistic goals has become all but impossible. At least, for now. I won't deny that it helps that I've reached material goals I didn't expect to years ahead. I'm not rich. I'm not near retirement either. I still work for a living. I still need to work to live.

As it happens though, I mostly love my job. I find it fun and don't hate going and even feel slightly overpaid for the privilege. Maybe I just need a healthier self-esteem so that I'll know that being satisfied with where I live, what I drive, where I go and what I can do just isn't good enough.

Beyond consumerism and materialism there's still plenty I could want. I can squeeze into a size 8, but it's still too snug. I've already known and loved a few soul mates. I could ask for another, but I haven't convinced myself that I'd do anything differently with the next than I've done with the former. In fact, the formers are still friends, so maybe I'm not done with them yet anyway. I haven't learned how to drop all the love just because the relationships changed.

I suffer from a clear case of contentment. I don't know what to do about it. I can only hope it doesn't become so endemic that my resolutions for 2009 end up looking about the same as those I'm setting for 2008.

Be it resolved that I will enter 2008 fully aware that I am in the thick of casting off old skin and putting on a new one.

Be it resolved that I will leave 2008 even happier, healthier and more fulfilled than I entered.

That leaves room for growth and change and maybe a healthy dose of wanting.

Room 227

I imagine myself
on the bed
in room 227,
staring out across the boundless Pacific Ocean,
the loud, clear sounds of crashing waves fifty feet below.

A roar that drowns out pelican calls and seagull shrieks.

Over 100 rooms here,
only this one has an unobstructed, soul stirring view
of pure deep-ocean blue
from the bed.

At just the right angle
I can easily imagine
my self
entirely alone
at sea.

And as I sat imagining
this favorite place, being in Pismo,
in room 227, staring out at the sea,
I suddenly imagined
being there
not alone.

And I cried.

A third party there
talking, breathing
would mean
not being one
with the sea,
not alone
with the sea.

No absolute freedom
to get lost
in my thoughts.

...“So, what’s the big deal?”

I’d try to explain
why I love the room,
why I love the view,
why I need the time
alone with the sea,
away from the world.

What if,
no matter
how hard I might try to explain,
no matter
how many words,
how intense the emotion,
I never adequately convey
what the place,
the room,
the view,
the sounds,
the smell,

the sea means to me.

If I were to invite someone
to witness this place,
share with me
that space,
they might only confirm
no one else I know
feels what I feel,
imagines what I imagine,
or experiences what I sense and believe.

I’d feel
suddenly alone
thanks to the company.

Customary Giving

It is common in some cultures to make a gift of something that has been complimented. I recall seeing most clearly with my former in-laws who brought the tradition with them from Ethiopia. I also recall reading it was prevalent among some other Native African and Native American tribes. It has always felt right to me.

Five or six months ago, I purchased a green tourmaline ring that caught my attention. It's a brilliant display of four slender, beautifully cut, flourescent lemony-lime green specimens. The first few times I wore it, I was a bit self-conscious because it's huge. To be honest, I feared I had crossed over a little early and would soon find it appropriate to wear it with leopard-designed tops, gaudy broaches and super-bright lipsticks.

The constant compliments, especially from guys, let me know it was just my usual disinterest in anything that draws attention, even positive. When I wore to the family Thanksgiving meal last week, I'd become accustomed to folks commenting on it.

My mother, evidently, was seeing it for the first time. She didn't just comment once or twice, but several times. Since I was consumed with when the turkey would be carved, the spread laid and when we'd be getting to the blessing of the food which is the preview to the eating of the food, I answered her questions about it politely and completely, but didn't recall until later how large her eyes had been as she twisted it to and fro round my finger to get a better look.

This morning she's coming over for Reiki and a crystal grid healing. We'd set it up on Thursday. Now that my uncle, an aunt, my grandmother and a cousin have shared their healing experiences with me to others, I'm starting to get requests. Pretty soon I might be ready to accept paying clients. For now, though, I'm enjoying the slow and steady confidence building occuring with healing family and friends.

My mother and I set up the healing session for today...in an hour, actually. Yesterday, as I got dressed, that ring seemed to scream out, clean me and let her have her have me a while.

I'm delighted to share that it didn't even cross my mind to hesitate. I trusted that it must be the right thing to do. It was then that the full measure of her interest last Thanksgiving came to mind. So I obeyed.

Last night, in preparation for such an early session, I was reading up on a few crystals and techniques so I'd make the best use of the session and time. I went and read up on Green Tourmaline since it had heard what I hadn't, that she belongs to my mother, at least for now. Of course, it was spot on for everything going on in her life right now. I feel so blessed that the universe uses me.

As I get ready to offer it her, I'm appreciating why some cultures created the custom in the first place of offering to others what they comment upon enthusiastically. Not just a comment, mind you, but enthusiastic "Wow, that's really, really nice." Sometimes we're just conduits. Things don't have legs. The wind can sometimes carry things to their destination, and accidents can happen where just the right thing falls at just the right time in just the right place to be found by just the right person.

Sometimes, though, we're the angels that move mysteriously to connect others with what belongs to them. Temporary custodians.

Driven to Write 2

I've got two spirits hanging around with me, delightfully so. One is Alice Dunbar-Nelson, though she's been less prevalent in my consciousness than the newest of late, my great aunt Lucinda Gray. Blog readers of the past will know Alice as the early 20th century author, suffragist, speaker, etc. whose life story I intend to eventually tell in either a biography or historical fiction (a novel with close attention to the details of the subject and era.)

My great aunt came to me a few weeks back, while I rested one evening after becoming suddenly tired. While I lay there, I heard the name as clearly as if any voice had used the air waves to transmit the words, "Lucinda." I knew it was the name of the character I'd been toying with starring in fiction for a while. Just that morning or the day before, two characters dropped into my consciousness with great clarity: a grandmother and grandchild.

The name Lucinda was the name of the grandchild. I even recall being my usual self and arguing with the inspiration, "Why would I name a character Lucinda, I don't even like that name." The character assured me it wasn't her first choice either, but the name was non-negotiable. She added that she prefers Cindy and has been called Cindygirl, Lucy on occasion, and that her preference now, for the book, was Luzca.

I liked Luzca and agreed to keep the name Lucinda. A few minutes later I literally zombie-walked to the computer and typed up a few pages that came out in "the character's" own voice.

I'll have to do what I said at some point and outline all the random coincidences that occured over the next few weeks. The highlights include:
*A huge writing pad I special ordered for my classroom arrived on the very day I suddenly felt the urge to start the story boarding, the outlining of the characters. It is indeed a coincidence since the paper was in my car, but I came home, realized I wanted to write and was ready to run out to the office store to buy the paper...and then remembered there was some in the car.
*I have a writing buddy with whom I share works in progress. It had been a while since I sent anything, so I thought the least I could do was flesh out the story's characters and type them up into a spreadsheet of sorts complete with their birthdays, significant circumstances, astrological signs too, and so on.
*I went looking for authentic names of African-American men of a by-gone era and found an old family reunion album. While searching through the names, I stumbled on Lucinda's name. That was when I first learned she was more than a character. There were innumerable details in the "story" that I thought I invented that matched the details in this album I've read no more than once, maybe twice. If twice, a glance through and no serious study because, truthfully, it is my father's side of the family, he died 13 years ago, and I was never ever close to that side of my heritage.
*Then six days after learning Lucinda was real, six days after promising herself and myself that I would indeed get in touch with that side of my family, though I have never in my life extended myself to them and have only been in there presence at my father's funeral and then at my grandmother's three years later, ten years ago and two functions a few years prior to my dad's death at his dignified pleading insistence...I am giving a workshop and am placed next door to a cousin on my father's side. Lucinda wasn't worry that I might flake on calling them, she arranged it to be impossible to ignore them.
*I visited for Thanksgiving and learned that Luzca, Aunt Cindy, was extremely close to my grandmother, and that my father was her absolute favorite of my grandmother's twelve children.

And those are the highlights.

The entry under Driven To Write is the prior blog entry.

I'd love feedback. Please click on comment. It will come to my email first, but then, if you don't ask otherwise, I will post it for anyone to read. Thanks for reading.

Driven to write

Below is the write-up that is the first piece inspired by my great aunt Lucinda. She provided the inspiration and the initial words. I take responsibility for the structure, style and tone.
_____


There is a veil that exists. Most humans never cross it. Not while breathing air, anyway. It takes enough energy, concentration and security to navigate the seemingly all-encompassing reality of this world.

Most folks of most religions can entertain the notion that babies are born with spirits that come from some other place. These spirits may or may not have communed with other worlds, with other spirits, with other dimensions up until they take their first breath and agree to cross the veil, to live only from their senses. The veil is nothing more than a choice to ignore the experiences and perceptions which are not filtered first through the sensory organs we’ve accepted as the primary, if not sole doorway to consciousness.

A handful of babies never fully grasp the contract entered into by virtue of being born, the agreement to deny the immaterial. They continue interacting with their spirit partners, angels and guides, for months and sometimes years. They remain oblivious to their spirit’s faux pas in the land of the breathing.

For most, bright lights grab their attention soon enough, loud sounds distract them. By-and-by they learn to rely on their physical senses like the rest of their incarnate species.

That none of the adults around them see what they see or hear what they hear makes the eventual loss of connection to these others a virtual certainty. There is no one to validate or acknowledge the perception of beings as brightly beautiful as any crystal chandelier with songs more melodic than the greatest classical compositions. Seeking the coos mother bestows on mirrored behavior, the child ceases to see what everyone else appears to be ignoring. “So that’s how it’s done around here," the child asks herself. "We ignore those pesky little non-breathers. Must not be good for anything.”

But in a few rare cases, a defect occurs in a child’s biology. A woman births a child, usually a daughter, who fails to learn how to turn off those other senses, the ones that connect to other beings and other dimensions. It'll pass daughter to daughter to daughter until the line is extinct. These glitches quickly and inevitably extinguish themselves as part of nature’s plan. At least until such time as the conditions are ripe for a world full of them.

It is even rarer to find a male with such a connection. It is as if the Y chromosome permits a greater resistance to whatever neurological functioning enables the mind to release the spirit and soul to traverse the veil, to choose to see without the eyes.

One in ten thousand born will maintain sporadic contact across the veil, most often through random occurence. In one or two of these, the occasional crossing stimulates a conscious curiosity. A fascination is sparked that propels development and tolerance of the extra-sensory world. When a man and woman both carrying the same glitch marry there is a chance for a one in one hundred million human being to be born who is entirely incapable of learning to see a veil between the two worlds--one perceived by the sensory organs and the other perceived by spirit. We call these damiana.

…

It’s tough to inhabit the space between worlds while still anchored in the limiting illusion of time and space. Damiana are not lost souls. They are not homeless. Their problem is that they easily inhabit too many homes. Just as comfortably as their eyes perceive the brown of a pear, their tongue revel in the juices beneath the lip tingling texture of its rough outer peel, just as effortlessly, they perceive the vibrant energy emanating from the picked pear their peers perceive as lifeless. The worst of them commune with the pear to ask permission before consuming or moving it. In a word, they are crazy. They are perceived as crazy.

And that’s where I come in. Not just me, but all spirit guides, ancestral or otherwise. Just as they are standing at the edge of this great abyss of groundless living, we blow a gentle wind that pushes them over the edge into a freefall that ensures their eternal freedom, their independence of thought and the resulting certainty that they will complete their life objective.

***


There is a veil that exists. Most humans never cross it. Not while breathing air, anyway. It takes enough energy, concentration and security to navigate the seemingly all-encompassing reality of this world.

Interacting with the various forms and beings whose homes are chiefly in dimensions beyond the third is a mind trip. Drugs are the most common route, though a handful of these have the unpleasant side effect of ripping a permanent tear into the veil, making it impossible for the crosser to live wholly in any dimension. Holding on to the experiences that follow a chemically induced crossing is difficult. What was momentarily experienced as accurate glimpses into another world dilute over time to become left over delusions sprung from hallucinogenic moments.

The result is greater faith in the world of the five bodily senses. Dabbling in crossing the veil wreaks havoc on our tenuous sense of security, making concentration on earthly matters all but impossible afterwards. Life can become uncomfortable.

The discomfort and unfamiliarity then too easily breeds ignorance. Ignorance too often begets false feelings of superiority. The fear and ignorance of what lies on the other side of the veil leads many to believe that their flesh-filtered experiences are more real, more significant, more of God than angels, spirits and the rest of the unknown. Human consciousness, trapped in a prison of linear thought, filtered through the prism of fear and doubt, is reality.

Dimensions are simply a reflection of where we place our consciousness. Like the ventriloquist who throws her voice behind a ball one minute, under a table the next. Consciousness can be thrown into a dot, into a line, into a human form, into a thought form or directly into Heaven. Crossing the veil, moving through dimensions is nothing more than shifting consciousness from one location to another. Be the dot. Be the line. Be your form. Be now. Be here.

Consider time travel this way. The popular mediums of science fiction almost always depict it as via an elaborate technological contraption. Mind, body and presumably soul are all simultaneously transported elsewhere: To the same world, just at a different point in time. Linear forward or linear backward are the only options. In the rare instance that time is not a closed linear system, only human choice in human form provokes change, for better or worse, depending on the plot.

When is the world ever changed in fiction by the mouse that chooses to forego the cheese in the trap, preferring a slightly lengthier sensation of hunger to the fate that befell the housemate, rotting ten feet away, his nose one-quarter inch from the prize. The exterminator is eventually called. The assistant flirts with the neighbor. Children are born. A few move. A town is founded three hundred miles away, a new sport created, a new contraption invented for the new sport, acres of timber felled, trillions of gallons of fossil fuels burned. The choice of a mouse changes the lives of all. Though, yes, it was a human who set the trap, who called the exterminator. Nonetheless, the mouse has his part…and spirits, and angels and thought forms have theirs. Humans are not the sole players.

Time is not solely linear. Time travel requires only a heart tuned in to the rhythms of the universe...and the will to do so. It is our heart-directed consciousness that is capable of traversing time and space. The physical body is no more likely to cross time than the chair, couch, ground or other object on which you sit or lay reading. The physical body belongs to the physical world and is bound by physical laws. The only vehicle capable of interacting with any other dimension, time included, is the spirit. The spirit is boundless: Unbound by linearity or sight or sound or a room or a body or the present. Spirit is all present, all dimensions. Time is subject to the dictates of spirit, not the other way around.

***

In Heaven, we have a motto: “It’s no one’s job to save the world. If everyone would do the job they’re assigned, live their best life, the world wouldn’t need saving.”

*********

Luzca is real

What a story. It turns out that Luzca is the true spirit of an ancestor. A great-aunt to be specific who was named Lucinda Gray. Before I found her information in an old book tucked away in a drawer for over ten years, I'd already made the primary characters of the novel she is inspiring her and her grandmother who was to be clearly called GranGrae. Turns out GranGrae is Gran Gray and real too.

Gran Gray is listed in the family tree as a fully Native American which explains a whole bunch. Her son, my great-grandfather was a pastor among other things. Spiritual matters are in my blood it seems.

In the next couple days, I'll be editing a blog that will be an edited compilation of emails I've sent that show how Lucinda is influencing my writing, interacting with me and affecting her presence in my life.

Of note:
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving here in the US. I have not been in touch with my father's side of my family. He died thirteen years ago. I saw them all at his funeral and then a subset three years later at my paternal grandmother's funeral over a decade ago.

There was one instance when I ran into an uncle who teaches math in my same school district several years ago, but that has been the extent of the contact.

Last Saturday I was doing a workshop on my book, the non-fiction parent primer on California Schools at a district-sponsored event with over 40 presenters and some twenty colleges represented. My room was in the farthest building, the farthest corner at the end. That, by the way, is exactly where I had kept the family reunion booklet that included the only reference in my home to "Aunt Cindy" aka Luzca--in the furthest most corner of my bottom bookshelf on the side of the split drawer that is furthest away from where I sit and type.

There were no attendees at 8:00am when the first session was to begin. The halls were empty. So empty, so lifeless, that after setting up I took the time to see who the competition might be, who else was presenting. I notice a name that sounds vaguely familiar. The first name is a bit unique. It sounded like a cousin. A quick check of the last name and sure enough it is a cousin from my father's side.

Wow! It was only the week earlier, six days prior, that I had uncovered Lucinda Gray. When I did, when I saw all the parallels between the story line that I had laid out for my fictitious Luzca and GranGrae, I vowed to get in touch with my paternal relatives. That was on the Monday before the Saturday workshop. Of course, I put it off, did nothing, and wouldn't have any time soon left to my own initiative.

I glance back down at the program. I'm in disbelief that while I sit at this workshop that I had previously determined was gonna be my last workshop connected with my first book, a connection to Lucinda is there too.

Unbelievable. Forty presenters, a huge spread of rooms that span three two-story buildings. My cousin is in the next room.

That Luzca!

She's serious. The first words out of this cousin's mouth. "You have to come over for Thanksgiving." With two feasts to attend already, my initial response was not affirmative. It took a few minutes to appreciate that this was not optional. I had failed to follow through and email or call as I had promised Luzca I would. No worries. She already had the whole thing planned anyway.

I'll wait till after tomorrow's reunion to post the edited emails. More coming.

...and why did I finally begin to blog tonight? I'm finally knuckling down and attempting to get on paper some of this novel I seem to be channeling more than writing. And as I do, the tone begins to stand out. It is Lucinda's own voice describing our lineage, the tradition of connection to spirit, the crossing of dimensions, the melding of worlds.

Too fascinating.

Luzca, Alice and I...and preparing the way

Yesterday, I purchased together a piece each of moldavite, aragonite star cluster and sphelerite. While I am still working on Alice's book, I have come to embrace my desire to live as a writer. I am grateful to a member of the London-based African-Caribbean healer's group who offered a perspective that helped me seize and own that truth for my life.

In the meantime, though, another book I have wanted to write for two years is also being developed simultaneously. This week, on Tuesday night, I was given the name and a few details of it's main character, Luzca.

The following is an email sent to a buddy about it all:

On the moldavite, which comes from Bohemia (Czech Republic):"Because its energies are so powerful it's a good idea to keep it near you a lot when you first get one and to meditate with it regularly. Whenever moldavite is used in meditation it is recommended that a grounding stone: black tourmaline, hematite, tiger's eye, smoky quartz, red jasper, or obsidian, be placed by the feet for grounding purposes.

Special warning: You will find in time that more and more things seem to be unnecessary: the relationship you're hanging on to because it's comfortable and you don't like to be lonely, for example. You may find it more and more important to be honest with both yourself and others."


And it suddenly becomes so fascinating and apparent why I had to get all three together. Why those three. I read up on the aragonite--it's grounding, especially emotionally. And then combine it with the truth-telling spheler-something. It all adds up.

What is most fascinating to me is the way I get prepared in advance for these major shifts. Watching that particular movie, In America, and having what was really a rather violent reaction to it. I was actually hyper-ventilating. I wasn't afraid of it, but I was alarmed.

Did you ever see Amistad? The dark, tall and entirely masculine...just found his image
djimon hounsou
...

This is from the movie I watched that night. The girls family lives in the same run-down complex. They are immigrants living in New York. The part in the movie that beat me up was when her father is confronting his demons and fears and, in a fit, accuses Djaimon's character of being in love with his wife. By the way, Djimon's character is such a contrast...he is shown angry and yelling and then at other times, gentle and tender.

Right at that moment in the movie, being accused of having an interest in the Irish wife, Djimon responds with...."No, I am in love with you." He speaks it strongly and softly. Then he builds up to a crescendo of emotion adding, "And I am in love with your woman. I am in love with your girls. I am in love, even, with your anger. I am in love with anything that is alive." By this point he is screaming with a depth that only such a raw hunk of African masculinity can pull forth from a human diaphragm.

And my soul shivered, then it quivered. Then I hyperventilated and went back to the time as a child when I longed to be held. Something about the vibration in his voice, I don't doubt it. What event in his own life he pulled from to carry the scene, I can't imagine. Whatever it was, it came through loud and clear, and my heart resonated with the despair, anguish and hopeless resignation. And it literally shook the injury out of me. That was the exorcism.

And when it was all over, some ten to fifteen minutes later, after needing to imagine myself swimming deeply in the Caribbean, embraced, held and caressed by the salt waters, I was able to recall the reality of my need, desire and singular purpose to experience love at a soul and spiritual level I had ceased to acknowledge consciously or experientially.

The scene ends with the Irishman calmly, quietly announcing, "You're dying. I'm sorry." And all the clues that he has aids are confirmed.

The very next day, yesterday, the universe stirs me up to visit the farmer's market to buy those three stones.

Within a few hours after placing the moldavite in a jacket pocket, I am excited about coming home to attend to Luzca's story. I know details are coming. I know I'll receive them. Hours later when I arrive home, I walk in the door and wish I had long, wide sheets of paper to do a story board. I've never done one before. I've seen images of them, maybe in movies or on a special about screenwriters or story-editors.

I decide it is so necessary for the story-plotting I'm about to, that I'm willing to turn around, get right back in the car and drive to an office supply. As soon as I turn the nob, I remember that just before our staff meeting, a couple hours earlier, our school secretary told me the easel paper I ordered had arrived and that I should put in my car to take back to my classroom, at a different site from where we meet. The universe had supplied the exact paper I needed. As usual, I didn't notice it until it made sense, until I knew what to do with the support.

And I set there with the writing buddy crystal I wrote about earlier, the moldavite and some others and let details about Luzca, her grandmother, her great-grandmother and great-great grandmother come to me. I realized after I sent you that email about channeling Luzca's character that this is story I said I wanted to write at least two years ago, after I'd done the DNA mapping.

The time it takes to prepare the way...

The Master Key

The newest thing in self-improvement in the U.S. is The Secret. Even Oprah's pushing it.

The last blog entry included a quote from Alice's diary. Around the time of that entry, she was also writing about something called the Master Key and a system toward helping improves one life. A little digging while I was reading through the collection of her papers unearthed that full reference to the book. I've looked it up and just discovered that it is the same book that they claim The Secret is founded upon and references. One pop-up advertisement claims it is even the very book that caused Bill Gates to drop out of school and start his company.

I shouldn't be surprised that Ms. Dunbar-Nelson was, once again, ahead of her times. I'm off to buy this book and check it for myself in just a moment.


Also, regarding that diary entry excerpt, I went to the very park and reservoir which she refers to. I traced her very steps. The reservoir is just as soothing and placid, though there were no stairs since construction was taking place on one side of it. I had to climb a couple enbankments to reach it. From there I went back down and sat on one of the benches. The benches were a bit modern, so they were in no way the very equipment on which she might have sat. And there were modern swings in a children's play area that no doubt post-date her diary entry.

It was wonderful to just sit there and try to imagine what she might have felt, what the scene might have been like at that time. I likewise visited the block on which her old home was located. Oddly enough, there was a single building from that era that remained entirely in tact. The neighborhood is now Wilmington, Delaware's civic center, but one lone building sat in the middle of a parking lot, dating back to the original sructures. She had lived at 916 French street for a while, this building was 914. It's a lawyer's office now.

More details of the book were presented to me through the research.

On the flight there, the first of the new Tera-mai Seichem Reiki symbols dropped into my consciousness. Zonar suddenly appeared in my mind's eye. On the plane ride back to Long Beach, I used this symbol to help clear out a lot of psychic debris. It was quite powerful to watch it do its work. Funny how the universe works.

I can see how uniquely appropriate and important it was that I use that symbol for the mental housecleaning. Reading through Alice's papers kicked up a lot of dust in my own mind. The more I study her, the more I learn about myself.

How amazing it is that the universe brought to me enough extra cash this summer to enable me to both take that trip and receive the new TeraMai-Seichem attunements that are coming in handy to help me with the process of writing this book.

I'm also sleeping with a Chrysanthemum Stone. These are credited with helping one find one's true path and to have the courage to live it.

One reader, wrote after reading the last entry that I should start not delay in starting this book. The encouragement she offered when I asked her to say more was invaluable. I think that sometimes, because I seem to go after what I want and to get it, my friends and family underestimate the value of their spoken support and encouragement to me.

I would love to be a writer. And by that I mean, to earn financial support enough to make that my primary contribution to the planet. For teachers, there is nothing so enticing as the security of that promised pension after 30 years of service. I have to be ever so careful to balance not leaving a sensible investment in my future with the pursuit of my dreams.

The funny thing is that Alice loved politics so much that she left her job one too many times to attend a rally and when she returned the new principal succeeded in having her fired. She never recovered from the loss of that steady income. She had taken it for granted and failed to appreciate in time that it was the means to her being able to do the many political, social and artistic activities she craved. Financially, she never quite recovered.

I'll plan on keeping my day job. In the meantime, I will put my heart and an equivalent of a sustained sweat into this writing business. Oh, and I'm off to buy this book Master Key book, too.

Crystal Color brings on crystal clear

This morning I woke up so excited. It's the second time in two weeks that I reached for a different crystal...a crystal that I had sitting around in my room here or there, but hadn't held or meditated with in quite some time. And in each of the two instances, I had new awarenesses come to mind. Fantastic.

Last night it was a lepidolite massage-tool shaped crystal that sat on a nightstand for weeks. Before that, it sat for months with a host of others that I choose from each morning, deciding which one or two to place in a pocket.

It was gonna be tonight's selection to hold as I went off to sleep. My mind started drifting to my favorite scene, an oceanfront location. I can't remember if I was just walking along a shore cliff or had placed myself on the outskirts of a town, or which specific surroundings, but in an instant, I saw this beautiful electric blue. It had properties that don't exist in colors we see with the eyes. It was practically alive. It's the color of the perfect sea and sky. It isn't turquoise or baby blue, but some lively mixing of them with electricity, life itself, and the peace of heaven all mixed in together.

I spent several moments straining my mind to recapture that particular color, that new and strange quality of life that came with it, was inherent in it.

Oddly though, it wasn't entirely pleasant as an experience. It kind of hurt when I tried to hold on to it. Go figure. Imagine a thumb being pressed just between your eyebrows a little too strongly and a little too long. I guess I was really straining my third eye chakra to hold it in my mind.

I knew immediately that it wasn't on the usually visible spectrum of light for the physical human eye. If you're not sure what I mean, think dog hearing. There are sounds that while perfectly natural and normal, lie outside the range of most human beings ability to process within our physical framework. Likewise, there are light frequencies, colors, that are outside the developed capacity of either our eyes to perceive or our waking mind to process, or both. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Visible_light)

The blue I saw was one of these colors. Years ago I had a dream of visiting pyramids...well, not so much "visiting" as being part of a long procession required to pass by them in some parallel "dream" world. The colors of the pyramids, of the stone were incredible. The only word that comes close to capturing what these shades of gold, brown, violet, and rust were like is VIVID. Vivid implies life, doesn't it. The colors were alive.

Color is light. Light is alive. It could be. We're alive. We are just an accumulation of particles. Light is particles.

You're thinking, "Wait a second, no, light is a wave." Fine. But did you know that modern physicists are proving what metaphysicists have known, that there exists a duality at the tiniest levels of existence. Electrons, quarks and light itelf are composed of smaller material that can transform instantaneously from wave to particle. Waves and particles, they are the same thing material being expressed differently depending on the circumstances or context. Amazing stuff.

Color is explained to be light vibrating at different frequencies. Not that this is to be a scientific treatise or anything...but red's wavelength is longer and frequency shorter than, say blue, with a shorter wavelength (arc) and therefore a faster frequency (http://www.usbyte.com/common/approximate_wavelength.htm).

The links are in case you wanna know more.

Which brings of to the new perspectives.

A few weeks ago I experienced words as alive. I was reading Dostoevsky's The Idiot and saw them literally dance themselves off the page from the way he wrote. From there I decided to return to the classroom as a student to learn more about the stories, novels and writing so that I can be fully participatory and cognitive in the process when my muses inspire me with the story/biography/novel I intend to complete sometime in the next several years. (Not being funny when I say "years", just being honest about how long it might take to do all the steps involved in preparing myself, the subject, and the final form.)


Back to last night. Before going to bed and picking up the lepidolite, I was reading Alice Dunbar-Nelson's diary. (She's the subject of the book for blog-readers who don't already know.) In the parts I read she is going into detail about her fascination with the ideal, with God's beauty in nature. In particular:

"My head was stuffy after staying in the office until eight o'clock, so I went for a walk after coming home. Out 11th street, quiet and broody under the trees, with pleasant homes; across the 10th Street Park and up the stairs to the reservoir. It was heavenly up there--lovely water, soft grass, the clover leaves shut tight and shedding the dew; the moon big and red gold, hanging over the trees and matching the electric lights around the banks. Boys and girls enjoying themselves after the fashion of kids. I hungered, dreaming over the loveliness of it all. And I tried to think through this conception of INfinite, Omnipotent Good, within me, around me, ME. I went downstairs and sat on a bench in the park near a weeping willow tree, bending over the skating pond. It was as still as if it had been painted. And I tried to understand inspiration by the law of attraction."

She goes on to say more about a particular book and concept on God she was reading. Oh my GOD!!! I just went to quote the day and year, to provide to the reader for effect. And I was the one affected. It was August 21, 1921. 21, 21. My birthday. There are no coincidences, only fascinating clues by the universe to help us guide our way.


And that confirms what inspired me this morning. I woke up clearer about what I want the angle to be in her story.

She was a historical figure. She was Paul Laurence Dunbar's wife, he America's first noted and celebrated Negro poet. She was a suffragist, working tirelessly to get the 19th Amendment passed to ensure voting rights for women--black men had it after slavery, but women of any color had to wait till 1920 here in the land of opportunity. She was an author, poet, educator. She was a survivor of physical abuse. While participating at a rally/protest, she was beaten with a club by DC police. After a drunken binge, Paul came home one night and nearly beat her to death. (That was the last time she saw him.)

She was part of the Harlem Renaissance, a guide and way-paver for the younger artists. The love of her life was her 3rd husband with whom she ran and operated a black newspaper for her home state. She was a columnist of note and an early member of the NAACP. She was light enough to pass for white and often did. She struggled to be less bigoted against her own kind than those who were bigoted against her.

And my story about her, my interest in her, the focus of my book will be primarily about her struggle to understand her place in the universe. That is what ultimately consumed her. That is what consumes me.

That is why her spirit chose to partner with me.


Now, I can see what she is hoping will be conveyed in a book about her. She longed in life to be more than black, more than a woman, more than a shell. She wanted to be an expression of spirit, to connect with it, merge with it, experience her full right of existence as often as possible. She worked so devoutly in causes battling sexism, racism, any limits-ism, I suspect, believing it might one day lead to her freeing her own soul.

And one day, three years and two months ago, I met her spirit during a history grant. I was, at the time, likewise trying to embrace and engage and experience the fullness of my soul and my spirit. I had just months before begun A Course In Miracles. I had been on the journey before the book. I stayed on the journey after the book.

I wondered, seriously wondered, why Alice would call upon me to venture into writing about her life. I'm no serious historian. I'm no great writer...yet...either. And this morning it makes sense. Like her, I hunger for spirit. I want to explore it and write about it.

Oh yes...I will write our story.

Pictures of Alice Dunbar Nelson:

The power of Reiki

My home was broken into. I think. Just to be safe, I had my locks changed. My uncle did it for me. He'd been fiddling with it for a while. Actually, a couple hours. Finally, he said, "I can't get this knob to get back on correctly." He's a locksmith by the way.

It was unusual for him to have that amount of trouble, though he did say that sometimes it happens that way--something that should go smoothly just doesn't do what it ought to do and you work with it. He'd been working with that part for an hour. He tried explaining what it might be, how many ways he'd tried to re-insert it and so on. He was telling me for a reason, but I had no idea how to help.

Finally, I just decided to send it Reiki. I imagined one of the Reiki symbols where he was having difficulty. Not even three seconds later, voila. All done. Easy pleasy lock fits snuggly.

Doubters can have a field day with. I'm just balancing one hour and three seconds.


But, you may be wondering, why was there difficulty in the first place. Well, the Reiki fixed that particular problem, that of the knob and new lock not fitting snuggly. At the time, he also said that he kept trying to make it work because he didn't want to have to drive all the way home to get a new knob and lock.

Today, I came home and there was obvious evidence that someone had indeed tried to enter my home through the front door while I was out. I put in my key and it took a whole lot of jiggling it to get the latch to catch so that I could turn the lock. When I finally got inside, I called my uncle and explained that I suspected someone came back and had tampered with the lock trying to open it when the old key or old technique didn't work. He suggested taking a look at the door frame first before jumping to conclusions to see if there were any tell-tale signs.

There were. Someone had.

As it happens, the problem with the knob was the universe letting me know that I needed to switch out that rather simple bottom lock and replace it with something stronger, studier and more secure. I'm thinking that when my uncle spent the first fifteen minutes trying to do what should have taken two or three, that was a sign to go ahead and change the lock.

He didn't. We didn't. So now he'll still have to come back afterall.

But like I said, Reiki solved the specific problem.

Which brings me to a note about universal energies, healing and even what some people would call magic...or having our prayers answered. We have to always be mindful of being careful when we pray, when we ask for healing and so on. In the end, we might be better asking for the message in the issue/difficulty/disease first and only after seeking understanding and guidance ask for the fix.

Writing again, The spirit of words

I'm writing again. My muse is back.

I've recently had TeraMai Seichem Reiki attunements--three levels at once, on a single Sunday afternoon.

And I'm reading Dostoevsky's The Idiot.

Those three things are important to know as I share a tremendous experience from this evening. If you've ever seen an overdone Hollywood comedy that featured a scene at a black church where someone is overcome with emotion...something like that happened to me this evening as I finished the first part to Dostoevsky's novel.

Firstly, you need to know that there is a story that goes with the purchase of the novel. A ton of coincidences that culminated in my literally feeling like I was outside of my body when I bought this particular book. I walked through the bookstore feeling as if I was simultaneously walking in different dimensions. I only noticed as I "came back" to my usual bodily experience and had more than a couple moments where everyone else in the store and the store itself were experienced as if I were in a movie, but more like I was on the screen on which the movie were being projected and everyone walking around had no greater depth or dimension than the characters on a screen. Quite frankly, it was extremely cool.

So then there's the TeraMaiSeichem. Wow! Anytime you get Reiki attunements there's a 21-day cleansing cycle. The first week of it coincided with the first full week of the new school year. And did I mention that I chose to get three attunements on a single day??? As a contrast, last year's series were done over eight months and those who've kept up with the changes in my life during that time frame know they were significant and many. So, this time I attune to energies that are like moving up from local broadcast news to CNN. More depth, more intensity. Three at once. Last week was a bit emotional as well. Lots of old baggage coming up for tossing out. It's beautiful and wonderful, but I didn't want to cheat myself of experiencing it as it passed out so I sat with it all.

By Sunday, a whole week of initial cleansing behind me, I had finally made it through the most difficult part.

Part of the process, I've been writing a short story. It is both an exercise in creative writing as well as a tool I used to help process one piece of baggage that came up last week.

(I didn't come back to that one, but will post it in its incompleteness anyway.)

Cleaning my crystals

A fellow energy healer recently inquired about my preference for clearing and energizing crystals. The following is a sum-up. I'd love to hear your favorite techniques...

As soon as I get them home I ALWAYS hold and handle them under running water before I do anything else. Always. It may just be related to the particular stones I am attracted to, but they seem to get a real kick out of it and it almost feels like a light switch effect for waking them up and connecting to them.

While I run them under the water, I usually feel compelled to run my fingers gently around, down, across or in whatever direction seems most loving. I think the combination of being under running water and being simultaneously rubbed clear of any physical dirt or other debris does wonders for lightening their energy. While I'm doing this, since the Reiki attunements, I also speak aloud the Reiki symbols several times.

That is probably enough to complete the cleansing, but for me, it is usually just the first step. After that, I will use either sea salt or sunlight for anywhere between a few hours or a few days to further cleanse any prior programming or particularly energetic debris.

If I do use the sea salt, I still let the crystals sit outside, usually overnight, before I program it. As for dedication-asking that the crystal be used only for good of all-I do that anytime between the running water and just prior to actual programming. I start with Dai Ko Myo for a general healing and then follow the intuitive guidance on adding Sei He Ki or the other two.

Most of the reading has suggested Sei He Ki as ideal for crystal clearing, so I almost always end up sending that energy to or through the crystal as well. Recently I purchased a fairly large rose quartz chunk. The energy was pretty powerful. On this one I actually embedded the Sei He Ki symbol into its center. Part of the motivation had to do with the power of the energy, and partly because I was so excited when I got it home, that I didn't want to wait a whole day to bring it inside from the sunlight. Mostly,though, I keep crystals outdoors in the path of direct sunlight at least 24 hours.

TeraMai/Seichem

I'll be getting the 1st and 2nd attunements next week. I'm sure I'll have much more to write about as I integrate those energies.

My writing buddy...

(The following is a slightly edited email to a friend about an elestial/skeletal quartz I purchased a week ago Saturday. It is, in part, the source of renewed energy to write again, to blog again. When I saw it...well, here's the story)

I bought this new crystal yesterday (Aug. 11th). I was drawn to it. Well, not exactly. I went to the fair with the intention of purchasing a citrine and the one I want to give you guys for up North.

I had been thinking about this one vendor from the moment I'd decided to go definitely go to this particular fair. The gem fairs are basically a huge flea market of vendors. Since last October I practically go to each fair that comes to Southern California--almost once a month. At this point, I've gone to at least 6, maybe 8, and recognize many of the vendors. Some of them recognize me. A few admit to recognizing me.

For the entire week, I've had in mind this particular citrine that one vendor displayed. It was simply too expensive for me when I saw it. If I remember the price correctly, it still is. But I wanted to see if he still had it. I was thinking about that crystal like it was the one that got away.

And it did. It got away.

Another, very, very similar one stood out, with the added quality of being affordable. I'm in love with this one too. It is right now sitting on the foyer table. Exactly where I fantasized putting the one that got away. Well, not exactly. I also imagined that one on a new dining room set. I had to look over and smile it jus now. I didn't settle. I was obedient. It took the one that got away to draw me to the one that was meant for my home. I needed to dream about the one I had seen to open myself to this one.

Anyway...back to obedience.

After I picked up the citrines for me and the amethyst for you guys, had paid for them and he was wrapping them up, I still didn't feel "done." I asked him to hold my stuff for me so I could walk the floor and see if there was something else. I made the rounds and not even a desire or inkling to handle anything else. I swept down and through the aisles so fast, I was amazed at my certainty. I knew there was something left to purchase, but I couldn't deny that it wasn't at any other vendors.

Even before I'd paid for my purchases, I kept wandering around Luis' booth. That's the vendor's name. His card says "Luis and Gloria..." Makes sense we were sympatico. I'm starting to wonder if I should just screen people "do you have a Gloria for a mother or wife? If yes, please call, we'll get along easily."

He smiled when he saw me coming and commented, "you changed your hair." I was surprised he remembered me. Then again, he always has the best selection, so I always spend more than just a passing moment at his booth. And then he followed the comment with a little lip smack and a sigh that hinted at being a bit let down. "Well, I can see your face better." As if that were the only redeeming quality of the new do.

"Thanks a lot. Well, thank you...sorta." It was fun. The curls were indeed a bit tight. Guess we're old friends. I appreciated the honesty. Talk about ensuring a sale.

I kept touching everything, asking about everything, I had a nagging feeling that there was something I was supposed to take home. Couldn't figure it out. That's when I went walking around the rest of the fair. As I walked back, Luis gave a quizzical shoulder raise to see if I'd found anything. I suppose he knows he's got the best stuff of the fair. As I walked toward him, I just waived him off to say, "Nothing. Waste of time."

When I was back at his booth, I was finally able to speak my truth. There was some other stone calling to me and I couldn't tell which one. I sat down in one of his chairs and actually had to ask for higher guidance to give me directions to the right stone.

In case you ever wondered about the degrees of intuitiveness. I was able to figure out that I couldn't leave without it, but there were too many energies melding and blending for me to discern for myself. I imagine if I were you (my highly intuitive friend) I'd have just gone straight to it.

Actually, glad I'm telling the story. I only used that method of asking directions after Luis tried being helpful and asked "is it an amethyst?" "No." "Is it elestial?" Well, it isn't not elestial.

That's when I realized we could play 40 questions all day, and, if I'm gonna use 40 questions instead of just relaxing with it, then I might as well do 40 questions on my own head and cut out the middleman. So I did. Are you on the table or on the platform above it? Are you on the left half or the right half? Before or after the round crystal...? In front of or behind....

And when I got the answer and walked over to it. I looked down and thought, "you???" I tried acting stupid, dumb. As if suddenly my higher guidance wasn't reliable. Suddenly, I couldn't trust myself. "In front of the ball?" I asked again anyway. As if the certainty I had before I walked over and saw it was void and no good just because it didn't look like the kind I like to buy.

I doubted. For a minute. For a few seconds.

No denying it. I bought it. No doubt, the appearance was one of the reasons it was a rather inexpensive piece from that collection. Let's just say, it wasn't conventionally appealing. If it were a woman, it would be like taking home the one your friends are gonna make fun of behind your back. It's shaped like one of those early versions of the pushbutton phone with the square face on a traditional angled body with the receiver fitting across the back, top.

And the best part of all: the confirmation! When I got over myself and looked beyond it's physical form, it initially looked less like a phone and more, on first impressions, like a stone replica of an old-fashioned typewriter. The first words out of my mouth when Luis gave me a look that asked "Are you sure it's this one?" was "Oh, this one's gonna help me with my writing."

I cleaned it, sat in the sun for the day and brought it back in the house around 9:00pm. I was finally feeling a little better, too.

As soon as I brought it in the house, I just held it to my chest. It felt so good, resonant, touch. I guess I do have a need for touch. Actually, that's no surprise. In this moment I can appreciate that what's going on is that I had an unhealthy version of the need to touch with sex and drugs and that what feels at the moment like not needing/wanting human touch is just me re-calibrating to healthy forms of getting that need met and people are a bit further down the road...after I've cleaned up a bit more. Good to know.

This stone felt so good. Kinda like the way I related to the palm tree I wrote about months back. That's the one, by the way that is now in the living room and next to where I intend to sit this stone. And yes the stone is right next to my computer as I type. Better than a dog that licks your face and leaves a mess or chews shoes, but just as affectionate and loyal and loving in energy.

"Are you sure it's this one?"
"Oh, this one's gonna help me with my writing."

And one week later, here I am.

Oh how long it's been

Truly. Over a month.

Finally, I've achieved a bit of breathing space. Adding to all the cleaning I've been doing over the year, the Buick is now gone, sold at auction last Friday. No details forthcoming since the only point is that it took an entire year after the convertible to feel entirely comfortable with it and secure enough that I didn't feel the need to hold on to the old energy of the old car.

That following Saturday, yesterday, I had my carpets cleaned. Oh the joy. I'd forgotten the true beautiful color of my carpet. It looks like new. Sadly, I'd evidently let quite a bit of dirt build up before coming clean. So like the energy work I'm doing. So like how much gunk I allowed to build up on my energy body before I got down and dirty and decided to clear out old useless and grimy impediments to letting my light shine fully in the world.

With all that cleaning going on, I also needed to take some time to just rest in it. To allow the change in energy to settle into my being.

It's done that, so now to the topic that got me back on blog.

I just watched Butterfly Effect. Powerful impact on me. I love the darkside of movies. It's sci-fi. The main character, Ashton Kutcher's character, has stumbled upon the ability to go back and time and change the past in the hopes of effecting a desired change upon his future. Well, not just his future. He wants to change the future for him and the girl he loves.

So, no matter what he does, like any decent feature length film requires, he and the girl never end up happily ever after.

Back to that in a moment.

I also just recently finished reading Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. Nevermind the movies based around it, the book is a good read. I related to the characters immensely. The seething loaners drawn to the arcane knowledge, adventure and lofty goals too fantastic for the average Joe.

As the book winds down to its endind, the hideous, murderous creature comes aboard a ship in the middle of the arctic ocean. On this ship is the dead body of his creator, Frankenstein, who has just told his tale of fantastic horror to the loaner adventurer who at books beginning longed to have a friend, a companion. The Adventurer, Mr. Walton, had hoped that Frankenstein might become that friend.

But that was not to be. Like I said, he dies.

We have learned by the end that the created being, this loathed being, only turned to murder, as it is conveyed, because when he sought out love, at every turn, he was rejected. No matter the goodness in his heart, no matter his doing the greatest of deeds for nothing more than approval and acceptance and a sense of belonging, his fate was to be shunned because of his hideousness.

By the way, if you have not read the book, he is a most eloquent monster.

When the monster comes on board to mourn the passing of his creator, he engages in a conversation of great remorse to Mr. Walton, the loaner longing for a friend. The loaner who is about to have to turn away from his dream of traveling to the North Pole because the shipmates over which he is captain have turned yellow at the first sign of danger and have just made him promise to return to Europe should they manage to extricate themselves from being stuck in the ice--which is the case when Frankenstein dies and his creature engages in remorse.

As I read this, I am overcome with great emotion. It seems so obvious how the conclusion of the novel should proceed. The monster who has, throughout the book, traversed the most inhospitable climates and terrains should obviously offer to assist Mr. Walton in continuing his journey. He had, afterall, attended to Frankenstein during the across-the-world chase when Frankenstein vows to murder his own creation...should he ever manage to catch him...which he does not manage to do in life.

And why would Mr. Walton accept? Well, because at the novel's beginning he is desperate for a friend. It is just too clean. So obvious to me was this conclusion that I am not embarrassed to share that tears rolled down my eyes and I actually had to get up and walk around because it was such a profoundly wonderful ending...that I had imagined. Everyone wins. Sure the creature had killed a few people in revenge, but only when he was rejected by his very creator. Am I the only one who sees room for forgiveness here?

And, true, the creature is made out to be a bit much on the eyes. But if you had read just how desperate this Mr. Walton was for a friend, surely something akin to a berka could not have been too difficult to conceive in time.

After my emotional response to this fairytale imagining of a perfect end to this classic, the real ending left me wanting. If I haven't already spoiled it for you, you can read (or perhaps guess) the actual tale's ending.

Back to Butterfly Effect movie:
By the time Kutcher's character is on the fifth attempt to re-right and re-write his and his true love's future for the happy ending, the unintended tragic consequences have become, for a dark comedy lover such as myself, laugh-out-loud hilarious. I can't believe them. Too rich. So creative on the part of the writer's and producers.

So here's what all that has to do with cleaning house.

I won't spoil that ending for you either. Suffice it to say that it was the same general let down that I had after ending Frankenstein.

But I remembered how much I love dark endings. They have never bothered me before. In fact, in my own experiments with short stories, the climax has always revolved around some sudden courage or twist of fate leaving someone dead. I write trajedy. I've only written trajedy. What's the problem now.

Like I said, I got rid of the old car. My carpets have been cleaned. I'm in a different place.

And then there's my new writing buddy.

Reiki Symbol Potluck

I was revisiting one of my Reiki books. Just browsing through. I came across the Raku symbol. When I received my Reiki III attunement it was not taught to me. A copy of it was placed in the folder and the instructor went over it's name, but when we did attunements on classmates, using it was not part of the instruction.

Today, I decided to give it a try, to just play with it a while. I'm at the place now with Reiki that I better understand all the different branches of Reiki as people's attempts to make money. Not necessarily from a greedy place or any kind of mal-intent.

It's just that the proliferation of new symbols and flavors of Reiki left me wanting to "maximize" my connection. More and more classes as a way to become a better healer. In search of African-rooted healing symbols, a google quest lead me to Lightarian Reiki. It sounded amazing.

When I looked it up, it was like all the others, something that someone "received" intuitively. I'm in no way poo-pooing intuitive receipt of increased knowledge. I am questioning the need to package it as a "better" Reiki. There are Karuna Reiki folks, Seichem Reiki folks, and I'm sure Lightarian Reiki folks, all getting great and amazing results. I bet there are even incredible Usui Reiki folks doing amazing things.

But back to Raku...
Having looked around at all the various Reiki formats, I decided I'd try using the symbol even though I don't think I was "attuned" with it. Well here's what happened. The symbol danced all around me. It was up and down, almost like sweeping my aura clean and releasing attachments, old cords and out-dated connections.

Powerful! Does that mean when I receive published information on symbols of other Reiki forms I can do them without an attunement? What if I "receive" a new set of symbols? Will I and, more importantly should I, feel compelled to distribute them as a new and improved Reiki?

I am fully aware that I am in no position to answer those questions today. My higher self says I've still got lots to learn before the answers will be clear (we've been talking to each other a lot more directly these days). Which probably means the answer depends on many things. More importantly, it means what others do with symbols they believe they have received is none of my business unless and until the universe makes it my business. Right now, it ain't my business.

The Lightarian Reiki doesn't add new symbols. It holds itself above Usui and Karuna by virtue of intensity and connection to higher vibrations of the same universal energy flow accomplished through intention. Sounds wonderful to me.

Is that really something "new". Is it possible that any Reiki Master of any branch can do enough purification, healing and self-development that the Reiki energy becomes powerful enough to surpass the symbology of Karuna, Seichem and Lightarian Reiki?

And just sitting at the keyboard a while an answer downloads into my mind.

It isn't any different than my pursuit of the original Reiki attunements. On my own I could have increased my connection to universal energy. My healing powers, with intention, would assuredly have grown. What the Reiki attunements offered was a quickening of the path to spiritual and personal growth. Like a worm hole through space, you get to bypass a bit of the usual linear travel time.

Readers should keep in mind that I'm not even two months old as a Reiki Master. I haven't yet fully explored the minimum possibilities of Dai Ko Myo. Then again, I'm coming to terms with past lives in healing work, and inherently appreciate that all roads lead to spiritual Rome.

Even with an innate of understanding of that fact, I can't deny that in my dreams, I fantasize myself destined to discover an ancient West African symbology of universal energy.

Wow...It's been a while

There are a ton of ways to describe it, and they all either elude me or don't quite fit my view exactly.

The short of it is I'm going through a quickening of sorts. My ideas, my self-view, my plans and my perspectives change almost as quickly as they form. And it's great. I ain't complaining. It's a marvelous spiritual and psychic growth spurt without too many growing pains.

Yet, as I experience it, I have no interest in trying to capture snapshots to share via my blog. Maybe that's a good thing. It is what it is.

So, I'll be bidding adieu for just a while till all this growth settles a bit and I can identify a direction.

That's part of the disinterest in blogging for the time being as well. It began as an opportunity to share about my spiritual growth with a distinctly Reiki and crystal focus. But presently, a great deal of my growth is in working more closely with my spirit guides and angels. It was already a tax on my comfort zone to share how Reiki and crystals were changing my life and my experiences, but I was able to muster the courage. As the experiences move to the outer edges of metaphysical experience, I feel a need to increase my own comfort level and acceptance of them, before I attempt sharing out.

In case you were wondering what happened...

Rejected Blessings

I wonder how often I refuse blessings? I hope not often, but I am sure the reason God gave me today's experience with a former colleague was to teach me a lesson.

A very Christian woman I knew from high school and whom I ended up working with for a few years until 2005, returned to our campus for a visit. The person she came to see had left the site early, so she sat with the some of us while we practiced for an upcoming skit.

When we were done she shared some of the things that had been going on in her life since she left to join her new husband in a land far, far away. It's within the state but it might as well be a different universe for the culture shock she experienced. Without recounting her travails, she's making the most of her situation. She shared a story of a run-in with a student that left her wrist injured. Her range of motion is significantly decreased.

When she emphasized the extent of the damage, I assumed she was open to having it healed. More specifically, I assumed she was open to my using Reiki to heal it. I asked her to take off her watch, which she did but noticably hesitantly. I began to slide off my ring.

Noting her hesitation, I asked if she'd heard of Reiki. Considering she had once been a patron of other holistic healing therapies, I was excited to be able to offer for free and in-the-moment what I thought would help her heal.

"Oh...I've heard that energy is (polluted)."

She slid back on her watch. I remembered that this was the same woman who would be certain I was at best purgatory bound for some of my non-doctrinal Christian views. Spirituality would not be enough, nor good intentions or even good deeds without a sound doctrinal foundation.

When she tried to explain, I simply said, "I know who you are are. I know how you are."

We continued to talk without skipping a beat. And then there were more tales of less than wonderful life events.

I have to admit that I was hurt and a bit ticked that she was closed-minded about the Reiki. As I got up to leave, she asked how I'd been and expressed how youthful I looked and generally, like I was in great health. Since Reiki and crystal energy work have been part of the process in my looking and being more healthful, I shared about it despite her disinterest in receiving the energy.

And, I must admit to doing this to make a point, I shared the story about the neighborhood cat that followed me home and came back every few hours until I sent it Reiki energy. It wasn't quite this deliberate, but she did formerly own a cat and I doubted she could insist that cat's were dumb or duped by impure energy. She asked a little more about the energy. She was coming around when I said that the purity of the energy may in fact be influenced by the vessel, and that I always pray beforehand to Father, Mother Earth, Jesus and Holy Spirit... Now, I could have left out that I include Mother Earth since that is NOT doctrinal. I could have done so, but then I would have engaged in some form of subtle trickery. I knew that any points made for Reiki would be lost with the inclusion of Mother Earth as capable of being involved in blessing and healing.

I couldn't help but wonder if she'd prayed that morning for relief for her wrist.

So That's What I Love about the Caribbean

I was reading up on a crystal I bought for a friend. It referenced "the many mansions in the house of spirit." (The Book of Stones on pietersite). While holding it I thought about this and I felt like I was there.

It was an ocean front room at sunset, the sky in an uncommon and calmly vibrant variety of orange, purple and brown hues and colors interspersed with sky blue. Amazingly beautiful and serene. The wall facing out to the sea was missing, open air style. Well, actually, it was a variant of the spot I'll be inhabiting next week in Barbados.

And it felt like I was Heaven. "In My Father's house are many mansions." If I had to guess, my room in my Father's house is like my ideal Caribbean room. I miss home. I try to go back to visit as often as I can. If your room, suite or guest house in God's many mansions were a place on earth, where would yours be?


While I spent some time in my Heavenly room, I thought about what's been on my mind a lot lately. What do I want to do with the rest of my life? OK, trite and cliche, I know. I enjoy my job a great deal and it pays well. So much so that I worry that my love of security is keeping me from something I'd enjoy more.

While in my room, I asked myself what would truly bring me joy to do on earth. The answer was surprisingly quick. I'd give parent workshops on education. The thing I'm doing now in my spare time. The thing I wrote a book about to give me credibility.

Why do I run here and there looking for something else? This might be a good time to note the selenite wand I purchased Friday. I didn't wonder why it was that suddenly on Saturday morning I woke up wondering about my life's work. I just did. I called a friend first thing in the morning and we were gung-ho on becoming life coaches. Then, and only then, we'd go into workshops. This friend and I banter back and forth year after year on new ideas for our next great career move or entrepreneurial venture. And year after year we add a few speaking engagements and then settle back into our usual routines.

Every idea, every move and every venture always culminates in speaking to groups. Small groups, workshops mostly. In fact, she and I met while advising students. We didn't really begin to click until we started doing our separate speaking engagements and talked about our successes and challenges. Within a few months we were doing joint workshops...or sitting on each other's.

Back to my room in my mansion...
When I got the quick answer that I'd give workshops, my room was suddenly filled with other light beings. They were fellow soul sojourners offering their support. Prospective parents from future workshops who were letting me know that, indeed, doing that work was much needed.

The difference their presence made was in reminding me that they don't need another expert on the educational system, they need the part of me that takes the time to explain it and who cares from a heartful place about supporting their challenge of raising their children. Not that it was to be about parenting advice. Just someone who actually understands the hassle and challenge they face in trying to do the right thing when dealing with the educational system.

My unique gift. My book is OK. But the place where I get an energy kickback and where I get the greatest positive feedback is when I am speaking to parents, answering their questions.

(Sorry so rough. I'll edit later and re-publish.)

Bottom line (long day, long night)...In that peaceful and supportive place that felt like my room in Heaven, I was able to appreciate that other souls are waiting for me to actually DO my life's purpose, to live it. And that my life's purpose is what I'm already doing, there's just room for me to commit to it. Most important, I can finally get over my book. It was meant to enhance a prospective speaking career, but it has instead gotten in the way of me doing what I'm good at, what I'm called to do, as I focused on income streams and how the experts say it is supposed to be done.


From The Book of Stones on Selenite:
"Selenite can lift one's awareness to higher planes of inner experience, making it possible for one to consciously meet one's spirit guides and guardian angels. It facilitates the experience of receiving advice and information from one's guides in the form of "interior motives."

Makes more sense that the light beings were spirit guides than prospective parents.

"In such experiences, one closes one's eyes in meditation while lying with a Selenite wand resting on the heart chakra and pointing toward the head...As one moves into the meditative state, one is likely to see one or more guides, often in the form that symbolize something about the message. The guide or guides will take one through a 'story' that reveals the message symbolically. Words are seldom used, which makes the guides' job much easier. One might say that when Selenite opens the inner eye, the spiritual world enters."

The Energy of Love

I had no idea what it was I always chasing.

I used to think it was people, experiences, adventures and so on. Now I know. I'm an addict for the energy of love. I suspect it is true for us all. The only problem is when we confuse the energy of love with the forms it takes to make itself experiential.

A plant taught me that.

Last weekend I cared for the plants around my home. I added a few, changed the soil on others, pruned the ones that needed it and loved them all.

That concluded on Monday. On Tuesday the following email was inspired:
I came home today and there was a shriveled up little plant sitting on my deck. Who sat it there??? Poor thing. My intuition suggests someone is hoping I'll do something to it so it looks more like the plants I care for...work some strawberry majic.

It didn't just walk over and place itself on the edge of the rail at the very top of the stair.

I can see the value in figuring out and owning what I came here (incarnate) for. It'll help me to make the decisions about what I'm open to and what I am not. I can't see the harm in taking the plant in and fixing it up a bit. And yet, I can't deny that there's something wrong with my motivation.

Aaaaah. There's still so much ego in me. Now I know why you accused me of having a Jesus complex, in a twisted way. Saving the plant, helping it grow is not really my motivation. I just want to show off what I can do for the plant. Save the plant, flex my muscles.

No doubt the plant will still be helped in the end, but oh how much sweeter the karma, how much sweeter the joy, and how much richer would my interaction with the plant be if I had a different motivation.


By the way, that insight was courtesy of the palm I bought at Lowes that is sitting right next to me. It is such a beautiful creature. When I look over at it, it pulls at the corner of my mouth and I catch myself smiling. I ran my fingers along the stem earlier. I've never been this open to enjoying the life force of such a creature before, to experiencing the life and wisdom of a plant.

Thanks to that experience with the palm, I can go outside and actually interact with the plant that someone sat on my rail the day after I spruced up and tended to my own garden. Oh, then there's that...the other part of my Jesus complex, coming to the rescue.

So much to be cognitive about. For today I'm just gonna bless the plant because...well...because I'm a greedy little predator pig who'll force myself on a plant whilst I work on learning not to force myself on people.

There, it's been owned. Off I go to partake of some plant lovin'.

After the buddy I emailed to offered some insight and feedback, the next day I was much clearer on articulating the why of being here this lifetime, and really, all lifetimes.

I came here to learn how to love.

With the plant last night I definitely learned/remembered how much I enjoy loving.

My issue is not remembering the natural way endowed me to do it. And, yes, that's true for all of us.

I was clear last night when I brought the plant inside that I was gonna 'love' it--regardless of it being the right thing to do or any of my business. Just being aware of the intention was fabulously inspiring of more curiosity. Of course, the obvious, I thought of love as usefulness. How snobby of me to pretend the connection is "obvious"...as if it hasn't been a lot of work to connect those dots.

I can't believe how much I think I get a free pass for pushing myself on others just because my hope, my goal, my INTENTION is to 'love' them.

While "raping" the plant, I was suddenly struck with it's inherent beauty, even as it was practically dead. It's lifeforce, it's value and worth and character and natural joy. And I felt an undeniable sensation of it reflecting me, reflecting God and emanating an energy of love.

This morning I woke up able to own that I'm an addict for love. I love the energy love and can'y get enough of it.

My work this lifetime is returning to innocence on HOW to love naturally, innocenty, without domination or degradation or hostility.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm.

And that plant is still sitting right outside my window on the stair railing just outside my door, across from the door of the neighbor who placed it there. Next to it is the 2nd plant she placed there the following day when she saw the nearly dead plant returning to life. I haven't done anything to the other plant, though.

Unfortunately, I read too late that when giving Reiki to sick plants, one has to be careful about not inadvertantly giving increased lifeforce to any bugs or fungi. The plant has perked up quite a bit. In addition to Reiki, I gave it good old-fashioned plant food. When I got closer this morning, though, there were also more bugs flying around it.

Hmmmmph. Could that have been the hesitation I didn't heed. In taking it upon myself to help that ailing plant, unaware of its infested condition, I have now put in jeopardy the health of my own thriving plants.

Live and learn.

In either case, the experience with the plants served to remind of the joy of exchanging love. That's what stood out. It wasn't just about "giving" the plant love and energy. In allowing it to share it's beauty and wisdom and life, I received the same.

That's what is addictive. The exchange of the energy of love.

Everything else, as a good friend always says, just substitutes.

Anything But Alone

"You make the decision, we'll do the work."

That's what I heard. It was the response from my angels, my spirit guides, my higher self. Call it, call them, what you will.

I've been fasting an outdated habit for the month of May. I've been fasting many things over the past year or so, often to the end that the desire has disappeared entirely after the timeframe of the fast disappears. Over the course of the fast, when the desire for the item or habit surfaces, I take the time to be curious, to wonder about the motivation. What need do I believe, usually falsely, is being met.

Taking the time to question the underlying motivations usually helps me address the lie beneath the desire, the urge, the old habit. Once light, in the form of awareness, is shed on the behavior, the lie has no where to hide. Out in the open, truth swallows it whole. And I become just a little more free than I had been.

My string of recent successes at dropping old, ill-fitting habits, became it's own habit. I was caught off guard when as the month wound down, I was feeling rather tempted to bring this particular fast to a premature end.

I thought I was so much better than that.

And in the struggle with myself to battle the guilt of even contemplating "failure", I was forced to remember the value of fasting. That it isn't about showing how strong I am already. Wrong attitude. It's about remembering that there is help to deal with what seems out of our control. Fasting reminds us to look beyond our ego, our conventional notions, the usual suspects, for support and guidance.

And so I did. And as soon as I did, I heard a voice say "You make the decision, we'll do the work." I committed to my fast anew. I made the decision and I got help with the desire. Someone helped me with the work of combatting, confronting my insecurities.

Related...
I had a dental appointment later that same day. I was having two caps replaced. One in particular needed a great deal of filing down by the dentist to fit my bite. He'd put it on, I'd bite down, grind my teeth. The paper slid between my bite would tell him where and how much to file down. The art of dentistry.

This went on four or five times before it was close to done. When he removed the paper for the last filing down, I had felt the cap getting closer and closer to just the right fit. To my surprise, I heard a voice say in my inner ear, "just another one-third millimeter will make it right."

"One-third millimeter?" Precisely that? Millimeters and not inches?

Knowing the dentist's voice, I can say with certainty I wasn't overhearing his inner dialogue. The voice was distinctly male, and astoundingly confident and self-assured in his assessment.

In the past I'd have doubted the experience. I'd have tried to find a rational explanation--perhaps I heard it in a movie and it just came to me at that moment. In the past, I'd have known better than to try and share aloud the experience and invite speculation that my sanity is less than 100%.

Now that I've spent more time in meditation and less time medicated, I am ready to speak my own truth without worry of the complexes and fears that may be in earshot. I believe I heard the voice of my immaterial community.

We're anything but alone in the world. Anything but alone in our homes. Anything but alone when we go out in the world. Those of us who are Christian claim to believe that God is omnipresent. We take in fear that He sees and hears all that we do. And yet, we hesitate to take in faith that He is always near.

OK. Lets call that one an easy to swallow truth. Here's the harder part. Is He alone in experiencing with us our lives? What do the angels we profess to believe in do all day, all night, all eternity?

In Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, there is a wonderful line stated by the character who represents the new material world order personified, "What is immaterial, has become immaterial."

We take it as a given that we can communicate with a soul thousands of miles away instantaneously. Through a video camera on a phone any person in reach of a satellite can share any experience we find ourselves in the midst of enjoying or loathing. The material version of shared experiences is easily embraced.

Has the value, worth and possibilities of the immaterial become unimaginable?

There are angels, spirit guides, old selves, new selves all simultaneously experiencing our moments with us. They have perspectives, truths, insights and plain information to offer us if we are open to hearing them, noticing them and being open to their guidance.


Now that I've typed all of that--my begging in prose not to be declared weird or insane--I'll share that when I sat down in the dentist chair, I immediately noticed a my dentist was distracted, preoccupied. I didn't want to reschedule, but I didn't want his preoccupation to interfere with a positive dental experience. So I invited my spirit guides. If you're wondering why I didn't say that in the first place, well, the truth is, I only just remembered as I was about to write that I didn't have any idea whose voice I'd heard and that it didn't matter.

I made the decision to keep my dental appointment. I made the decision to not try to interfere with the day my dentist was having by overtly or covertly insisting he get with my program. I made the decision that I would have a positive dental experience and that the work would be done without error.

"Just another one-third millimeter..."

I made the decision, they did the work.

And, here's the real fun of it all. Our spiritual support system is glad to pitch in the work. They recognize, even if we don't, that our biggest job as human souls is learning how to make the decisions.

It is incredibly empowering to begin to see myself as part of a larger spiritual community, a larger universe of God's creations all working hard to create Heaven on Earth.

It's so wonderful to know we're anything but alone.

No past, no present, no future

I had a rather profound experience the other night with the newest members of my crystal community--my Shaman stones, also called Moqui Balls.

I was moved to do a Reiki session with the three Shaman stones mentioned in an earlier blog (Shaman Stone Dreaming) along with two others. The crystals themselves suggest the configuration.

The session began with usual prayers and then, intuitively, a repetition of one of the Reiki symbols aloud. Within moments I felt as if a gateway opened up. Ahead of me, through my mind's eye, I saw my entire future path ahead of me.

What did it look like? Well, there weren't any details like people or streets. It felt more like viewing an energy stream. It was more like standing in a long and seemingly narrow hall in a house of mirrors that projected anfocused image of what is intuitively known as the self infinitely into the future.

It was shocking and amazing, but not at all scary. I was moved to send lots of loving energy and Reiki symbols through to the future me. And then, as if maybe one of my guides noticed I was so awed by looking ahead, my attention was drawn to the stream behind me, my past into infinity. I was lead to send energy there too.


After several minutes of listening intuitively to the guidance on which thoughts and energy to send backwards and forwards through my lifestream, I experienced a spontaneous viewing of a prism of light leaving from my heart in both directions.

Usually, in addition to the occasional blog, I journal all my healing sessions and crystal selections in a handwritten journal immediately. The combination of a busy week and the depth of the experience...it took me two days just to write the short-version here.

Rest assured (I say more for myself than for anyone else), I am committed to just spending some time with the energy healing I've learned so far. There's so much to experience before I add on more layers of training.

A Mother's Day letter

I just wanted to take a few moments to tell you that your question has really got me thinking. You asked me how it is I am always smiling, always happy.

First, thank you for the compliment, thank you for noticing, and thank you for inquiring about it. I meant it when I said my kids have recently been asking me the same thing.

A couple of months ago, when I was still taking anti-depressants, I’d have probably said they were the reason.

Recently, though, like I’d mentioned a visit ago, I got into energy healing—Reiki healing, Pranic Energy Healing, and my favorite, the use and wearing of crystals. I credit these and my continuing relationship to God with the decision to get off the anti-depressants finally and alcohol and the smoking on occasion after Mr. T and I broke up.

Soon after I got off the medications is about the time I started hearing people ask me about being happy most of the time.

If I had to list a bunch of reasons that, except for the first, are in no particular order:
 Meditation and constantly talking to God
 No medications
 Very little alcohol
 Not the least of my joy is working with my crystals
 Having a core group of friends that have stayed with me, through all my changes of name, views, ideas, careers and lovers for over a dozen years
 Fasting periodically
 Walking 3-5 times a week
 A job around teenagers…all of whom I love and who keep me young at heart
 Not taking my job too seriously (anymore)
 Reading lots of books to help me understand God better, the universe better, myself better and others better
 Not having to worry about my family
--Like cousin said, “She don’t have kids, that's why.”
--No love-depleted other to foolishly believe I can fill-up
--Staying out of the larger family drama when it comes up
--Living in a quiet home with plenty of time to think
--Having been blessed with a mostly healthy extended family
 Knowing that I live a really blessed life
 Remembering, at least occasionally, the contrast that most people on the planet live relative to my comfort, freedom and options, let alone basic needs met
 The mental, emotional, spiritual and financial freedom to experiment in my life and with my life
 Traveling to expand my views and perspectives
 Being too clueless to know I should be afraid of new things
 A grandmother that loves me the very best she knows how
 A mother who deals with my ever-changing self the very best she knows how
 A sister who surprises me with new insights and who knows me better than I know myself…but doesn’t use it against me
 A really good chiropractor to align my spine when it needs it
 A dear, dear friend who challenges me at every turn and keeps me growing…and who works hard himself at understanding others, even me
 The inability to learn that love is about hardship, suffering or pain


In sum, I’m happy most of the time because I work at it.


Or is that I’m just always happy to see you?
Well, if I know the woman who modeled self-determination for me, you already answered, “Well, now that’s true too .”

Shaman Stone Dreams

Though I primarily buy my gems and stones at collector's faires these days, I still occasionally visit a booth at a local farmer's market operated by a spirit-centered and friendly couple. For a while, at the beginning, I would go almost weekly. As I exhausted the items in their inventory that I had an interest in, I now return only every so often to check out the new stuff. Amazingly, I automatically head to the new stuff. While I can't claim to recognize each piece visually, I do recognize them energetically on some level.

I shared my new Reiki attunements with them toward the end of our visit. The husband casually asked, "You have your Shaman Stones already then..." Now sure, there's sales involved in the question. It is, afterall, their business to sell their wares. However, there was also true interest in aiding my spiritual growth and practice.

"NO...Shaman Stones?" The wife proudly beams as she hands me two, explaining that I should put everything down--wallet, purchases, keys--and just hold them to feel the energy. There was no explanation as to what I should expect.

Within just a literal few seconds, I felt my entire spine begin to shift. It's a feeling I'm familiar with now. My chakras were being aligned. I have a couple stones that do this for me. Actually quite a few of them can do this or something similar either automatically or when directed. These stones, Moqui balls, did it nearly instantaneously and rather forcefully I might add. Not forceful to the point of discomfort, but there was no way you could mistake what was happening or how.


I intuitively bought three. I'd guess they're a ma, pa and kid. When I got home I took pa out immediately. I carried him around most of the day, even around the house. The comfort, the perfect connection, is incredibly strong.

When I awoke this morning I recalled having had new and amazing dreams.

--The most recent before awakening was me performing various healings. Considering how insistent I am that I don't desire to put up a shingle, it goes without saying that last night was the first I dreamt of actually performing healing sessions on folks I don't know. I'll add that my "studio" was adjacent to my home. Oddly this fits a scenario I've often imagined but had let go. I had imagined having a downtown loft with a first floor studio. (I prefer to call it a studio to an office.)

Another idea was my dream beachfront city, an oceanfront home on a cliff, with a healing studio on the first floor with a side entrance. Right now, it makes sense that the location would be oceanfront. The roar and pounding of the sea against the cliffs would be a natural source of energy cleansing to keep released negative energies from hanging around. At the end of each day I could send them into the sea to disperse them...and perhaps offer an opportunity to reverse themselves.

That's the dream. Right there. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh.

But back to last night's stuff.

When I got up this morning I thought about the irony of dreaming of actually performing healings--in the dream I had three clients in a row. My hesitation to handle strangers creeped into my consciousness. And just as released crap from my body, I was able to release crap from my mind. I don't have to have the experiences I don't want to have with clients. I don't want to hear people's lies, drama and nonsense. I don't want to have that many impure mental/emotional interactions each day.

In the dream, I had done two healings, no problems. Then a third guy came in. Super tall skinny blonde guy. When I mentioned it taking two hours, he didn't have it. He could do an hour. Suddenly, in the dream, I was going through my house getting towels, sprayers and salt water. He was going to need Pranic Healing instead of Reiki. As I went through my house gathering these materials in the dream, I kept wondering why I hadn't had them already ready. Had I done the two prior healings without the proper accompaniments?

Back to my conscious consideration of doing energy healings...I remembered that I do best when I think least. Especially when it comes to healings. My crystals tell me which combinations to use them in. Whenever I look the combination up after the healing, I am almost more than stunned, amazed and shocked at how spot on the choices. Same with healings. I don't plan ahead cognitively when I do a Reiki or a Pranic to utilize my crystals. What happens is I decide to do a healing, then I am lead to either Reiki or Pranic, then the crystals who want to be involved call out to me. While performing the healing, the crystals then direct me at just the right time what to do with them. Sometimes they just sit under my chair collecting negative energies. Othertimes they sit in a particular configuration. At others, one or two choose to become more actively involved and my arms become their arms and they direct the movements and positions.

So I don't have to do impure conversations that are full of defenses, ego's, cover-ups and misrepresentations. For the most part the aloud conversations will be minimal. My higher self will communicate with their higher self and whatever I can and should do will get done.

Awesome.

The other dreams I had can really be summed up as one big one. I had a new daddy. This daddy had a whole bunch of kids. Seems like I recall them all being female. We were each his favorite. And we each knew we were his favorite. And we each knew we were each his favorite.

The one part that I want to share of the particulars is a trip we took to an ancient site. It was a museum built around an underground or cave site. This site was revered and included much spiritual wisdom on walls. It was in a white marble step formation. There were not huge crowds, I recall. There were others there besides my dad and my sisters, but not to many. It was the former site of highly spiritual beings of more than 100 million years past.


And this is the dream I had after holding my Moqui balls, so-called Shaman stones, all day. And the next dream held the clue to becoming a practicing spiritual healer. It was my first dream as a healer.


I should add that last night I experienced a desire for so many of the things I am currently fasting until my Reiki Master attunement next weekend. I acknowledged the desire and made a firm decision that I could have as much of what is allowed as I want to substitute whatever comfort I thought I'd find in the no-no's. And yes, I had half-a-bag of popcorn and some rice dream dessert...Had I not been committed to my fasts, perhaps none of those inspiration-filled dreams would have had happened. Did I say perhaps. Of course, they wouldn't have happened.