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A few hours ago I ran into one of my cousins. I gave her Reiki I and II attunements a little over a month ago. She'd suffered back pains and was not doing well with the painkillers.
She was happier than last time I saw her. "How's your back?" She went on to say that while it was better she was still dealing with it. I suggested she spend some time each day doing the self-treatments. "I do feel much better when I do it!"
The problem is making the time to do it. I know this myself. Just this morning I suffered a sinus headache trying to morph into a migraine and reached for the pills. For the last couple days I've known I needed to make time for self-treatment.
No wonder this healing art was lost. We don't make time for what works. We wait until there's a problem instead of practicing prevention.
How many Americans only integrate responsible diet and exercise into their daily lives after the diabetes diagnosis.
Tons of books explore a very simple truth. Our lives are made up a million minor choices.
Tomorrow morning, I'm doing reiki! And I'm not having more than a little piece of chocolate before I go to bed, either.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Love
My post on fasting a few days ago generated several great conversations with friends. One of them decided to join the fun. He fasted this weekend. Funny thing about his fast, though. His fast was about adding something into his weekend rather than taking something out. He fasted love, the word love. His fast was to say love as often as he could throughout the weekend.
I'd never heard of a fast that lived in increasing some behavior. But if anyone could pull such a feat off, such a fast, it was him!
Over the last few years we've joked about my fasting. When I fast, he reaps blessings. I go a few days without eating and he suddenly gets some new understanding about something that's puzzled him for years, even decades. Or I fast 12 hours without telling him and he can't figure out why all of a sudden people who've been out of touch are all calling on the same day.
He had this phenomenon in mind when he "fasted" the word love. He wanted to see what I'd get out of his love fast.
What I got was a greater conscious awareness of loving others in my life. In particular, I'd been resisting the notion of being "in love". Why did I resist? I don't know. Scared, mostly. Making it mean something more than what it is. It's an experience of another person. That's all. I saw it as a gateway to the beginning of the end of a relationship.
Love is the experience of connecting with and intimately knowing the divine nature of another human being. I felt that this weekend.
Love fast.
Fast Love.
I'd never heard of a fast that lived in increasing some behavior. But if anyone could pull such a feat off, such a fast, it was him!
Over the last few years we've joked about my fasting. When I fast, he reaps blessings. I go a few days without eating and he suddenly gets some new understanding about something that's puzzled him for years, even decades. Or I fast 12 hours without telling him and he can't figure out why all of a sudden people who've been out of touch are all calling on the same day.
He had this phenomenon in mind when he "fasted" the word love. He wanted to see what I'd get out of his love fast.
What I got was a greater conscious awareness of loving others in my life. In particular, I'd been resisting the notion of being "in love". Why did I resist? I don't know. Scared, mostly. Making it mean something more than what it is. It's an experience of another person. That's all. I saw it as a gateway to the beginning of the end of a relationship.
Love is the experience of connecting with and intimately knowing the divine nature of another human being. I felt that this weekend.
Love fast.
Fast Love.
Perfect imperfection...
It was to be 30 days of blogging.
And then a busy weekend, solidly scheduled tested my discipline, my planning.
My phone wouldn't let me access the login, constantly asking me, over and over and over, if I wanted to allow the page even though the security information wasn't current. I said yes, but my phone didn't agree.
At 10:30pm, I wasn't able to access the blog.
At 11:20pm, I'm home. Only I'm busy trying to attend to the needs of another.
And when it's all said and done, the clock says 12:09am. Saturday has come and gone.
There will not be 30 days straight unless I start over.
I might. I'll decide tomorrow.
Good night.
And then a busy weekend, solidly scheduled tested my discipline, my planning.
My phone wouldn't let me access the login, constantly asking me, over and over and over, if I wanted to allow the page even though the security information wasn't current. I said yes, but my phone didn't agree.
At 10:30pm, I wasn't able to access the blog.
At 11:20pm, I'm home. Only I'm busy trying to attend to the needs of another.
And when it's all said and done, the clock says 12:09am. Saturday has come and gone.
There will not be 30 days straight unless I start over.
I might. I'll decide tomorrow.
Good night.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Old recipes with Love
This year is the year of reinventing Rahbin. True, it's lifelong, ongoing and incessant, but last year and the view of this one coming are immeasurably new and exciting. Along with taking on photography and reiki as a business, I'm also exploring my creative expression through cooking.
A few weeks ago, I was struggling to come up with something different to cook for my sweetheart and I before a class. Having lived on my own for so long, I fell into the lazy habit of making healthful, affordable choices at eateries or relying on processed food warmed up. After combing through old memories of meals I'd made in the past, I remembered a recipe for a simple curry-flavored dish of ground beef and vegetables over rice.
The recipe comes from an old paper recipe book of my mother's, held together by three wire pieces that resemble stapes, but are circular. How I loved the recipe for bean soup as a child. I called my mom and she gladly read the recipe for kima (keema) over the phone. It was delicious and well received.
When I asked to borrow it for copying, there was hesitation. The pages are brown and some are on the way to crumbling in the hands. I promised to be gentle.
This morning, I took the pages to a local office supply store and made two sets of copies. It seemed logical to give my mom a more usable copy as well.
So...now I'm cooking, taking photographs and sharing reiki.
A reinvented Rahbin!
Midlife is fabulous!
A few weeks ago, I was struggling to come up with something different to cook for my sweetheart and I before a class. Having lived on my own for so long, I fell into the lazy habit of making healthful, affordable choices at eateries or relying on processed food warmed up. After combing through old memories of meals I'd made in the past, I remembered a recipe for a simple curry-flavored dish of ground beef and vegetables over rice.
The recipe comes from an old paper recipe book of my mother's, held together by three wire pieces that resemble stapes, but are circular. How I loved the recipe for bean soup as a child. I called my mom and she gladly read the recipe for kima (keema) over the phone. It was delicious and well received.
When I asked to borrow it for copying, there was hesitation. The pages are brown and some are on the way to crumbling in the hands. I promised to be gentle.
This morning, I took the pages to a local office supply store and made two sets of copies. It seemed logical to give my mom a more usable copy as well.
So...now I'm cooking, taking photographs and sharing reiki.
A reinvented Rahbin!
Midlife is fabulous!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Commitment to Heal
MasterRabin is a word play on both my desire to master me as well as being a Reiki Master. It's been years in the making, but I'm finally ready to be an active, teaching Reiki Master. I've committed to enabling at least 100 individuals to turn on their innate healing power before 2009 ends.
The seed was planted five months ago when I realized a woman I see regularly at my local coffee shop would benefit from an attunement. Until then I'd only attuned my mom and one friend. Even though I've experienced immense personal benefit from the balancing effects of the reiki energy healing method, I was keeping it all to myself.
I've been going to this same coffee shop for the last five or six years. Sometimes I go in a couple times a week, other times only once or twice a month. Over the years I've noticed times when she's more happy and less happy, more enthused and less enthused and physically more healthy and other times less healthy. On that day five months ago, I knew in my heart that I'd made some promise in eternity, a vow before getting here from heaven, to offer her reiki.
It's been five months in the making, but I'm now ready to fulfill on that soul agreement.
Over a year ago, I gave my first Reiki attunement to a friend, Abby. She's a licensed massage therapist, acupunturist and herbal medicine healer. We bartered. I gave her Reiki I and II and she gave me a series of acupuncture treatments. She shared some of the benefits she noticed, including an enhancement when treating clients with massage and acupuncture. I began to realize my own benefits were not a fluke.
Months later, I gave my Mom Reiki I. More months, then reiki II. She too has reported a series of benefits, including lower blood pressure.
And that was all. Months passed without sharing it with anyone else.
In April, Abby suggests I call a guy who wants to barter his fashion consulting for reiki. We made arrangements. He somehow remained charming and tactful while being brutally honest. When all was said and done, 1/3 of my browns, blacks and tents were missing. In exchange he became a reiki master. He was my first.
And then I was on a roll. I turned on the healing power of my sister, a cousin, a former coach, a friend, my sweetheart, another friend and so on. All the while it was becoming clearer that I wanted to do more of this, needed to do more of this.
On July 26th, I declared myself in business, but have so far only accepted one paying client. And, I haven't even accepted the actual payment yet. I've agreed to be paid.
Today, I took a major step in truly stepping into what I declared as the newest aspect to my life's work. I am a healer. Truthfully, I am a gifted healer. It runs in my veins, inherited. I'm certain of this. The series of books I wanted to write on Luzca are in part about owning this truth.
No time for home-made chai this morning, I stopped by my local coffee shop before heading off to scope out used classroom furniture from the district warehouse. Several of us from my high school planned to meet there right at 9am when the doors opened with a new shipment. My students now have a nice wooden coat rack for their wet jackets in winter.
As soon as I walked in three familiar faces greeted me with warm smiles and hellos. As fate would have it, there were no customers behind me. Rare! Very rare! This place is always busy.
I recognized the set-up. Either walk through the door I've stared through for five months or let it close, walk away.
If there were any doubts about it being an opening, an opportunity, the young lady who inspired my desire to share reiki inquires with great interest and enthusiasm into what's new for me this summer. Not the polite kind of "what's new?", but the general interest that reeks of winking angels daring me to fess up.
As soon as the question left her lips, time and space expanded. For a coffee shop at 9am, it suddenly seemed particularly still and quiet. In the two second eternity it took me to muster the courage to answer forthrightly, I chose crossing through the threshold. I knew that if I did not mention reiki, if I did not own up to what I created, I'd have one more experience of knowing myself as a flake, as someone who shirks, as someone who was too scared, too timid to contribute powerfully to another human being and make a difference in her life.
I told her about reiki. I did not tell her that she was the inspiration for my choice to create a business around sharing reiki or that at that I practiced on a dozen others before acquiring the confidence to offer it to her. I did tell her that I knew she'd benefit and that I wanted to give it to her as a gift.
I walked through the door. I know myself as someone who is committed to enabling others to live balanced, healthy lives. I shared the benefits I'd received and those received by others I personally attuned over the last few months.
Then there was momentum. I told her that my services were free, but that I'd gladly accept paying referrals later if she benefited and wanted to share it. It's so huge that I was clear with myself and with her that I'm creating this as a business. Living my commitments out loud.
Ten minutes later I called to schedule the first client for which I'll be paid. It's quite a breakthrough in valuing what I have to contribute to others.
The seed was planted five months ago when I realized a woman I see regularly at my local coffee shop would benefit from an attunement. Until then I'd only attuned my mom and one friend. Even though I've experienced immense personal benefit from the balancing effects of the reiki energy healing method, I was keeping it all to myself.
I've been going to this same coffee shop for the last five or six years. Sometimes I go in a couple times a week, other times only once or twice a month. Over the years I've noticed times when she's more happy and less happy, more enthused and less enthused and physically more healthy and other times less healthy. On that day five months ago, I knew in my heart that I'd made some promise in eternity, a vow before getting here from heaven, to offer her reiki.
It's been five months in the making, but I'm now ready to fulfill on that soul agreement.
Over a year ago, I gave my first Reiki attunement to a friend, Abby. She's a licensed massage therapist, acupunturist and herbal medicine healer. We bartered. I gave her Reiki I and II and she gave me a series of acupuncture treatments. She shared some of the benefits she noticed, including an enhancement when treating clients with massage and acupuncture. I began to realize my own benefits were not a fluke.
Months later, I gave my Mom Reiki I. More months, then reiki II. She too has reported a series of benefits, including lower blood pressure.
And that was all. Months passed without sharing it with anyone else.
In April, Abby suggests I call a guy who wants to barter his fashion consulting for reiki. We made arrangements. He somehow remained charming and tactful while being brutally honest. When all was said and done, 1/3 of my browns, blacks and tents were missing. In exchange he became a reiki master. He was my first.
And then I was on a roll. I turned on the healing power of my sister, a cousin, a former coach, a friend, my sweetheart, another friend and so on. All the while it was becoming clearer that I wanted to do more of this, needed to do more of this.
On July 26th, I declared myself in business, but have so far only accepted one paying client. And, I haven't even accepted the actual payment yet. I've agreed to be paid.
Today, I took a major step in truly stepping into what I declared as the newest aspect to my life's work. I am a healer. Truthfully, I am a gifted healer. It runs in my veins, inherited. I'm certain of this. The series of books I wanted to write on Luzca are in part about owning this truth.
No time for home-made chai this morning, I stopped by my local coffee shop before heading off to scope out used classroom furniture from the district warehouse. Several of us from my high school planned to meet there right at 9am when the doors opened with a new shipment. My students now have a nice wooden coat rack for their wet jackets in winter.
As soon as I walked in three familiar faces greeted me with warm smiles and hellos. As fate would have it, there were no customers behind me. Rare! Very rare! This place is always busy.
I recognized the set-up. Either walk through the door I've stared through for five months or let it close, walk away.
If there were any doubts about it being an opening, an opportunity, the young lady who inspired my desire to share reiki inquires with great interest and enthusiasm into what's new for me this summer. Not the polite kind of "what's new?", but the general interest that reeks of winking angels daring me to fess up.
As soon as the question left her lips, time and space expanded. For a coffee shop at 9am, it suddenly seemed particularly still and quiet. In the two second eternity it took me to muster the courage to answer forthrightly, I chose crossing through the threshold. I knew that if I did not mention reiki, if I did not own up to what I created, I'd have one more experience of knowing myself as a flake, as someone who shirks, as someone who was too scared, too timid to contribute powerfully to another human being and make a difference in her life.
I told her about reiki. I did not tell her that she was the inspiration for my choice to create a business around sharing reiki or that at that I practiced on a dozen others before acquiring the confidence to offer it to her. I did tell her that I knew she'd benefit and that I wanted to give it to her as a gift.
I walked through the door. I know myself as someone who is committed to enabling others to live balanced, healthy lives. I shared the benefits I'd received and those received by others I personally attuned over the last few months.
Then there was momentum. I told her that my services were free, but that I'd gladly accept paying referrals later if she benefited and wanted to share it. It's so huge that I was clear with myself and with her that I'm creating this as a business. Living my commitments out loud.
Ten minutes later I called to schedule the first client for which I'll be paid. It's quite a breakthrough in valuing what I have to contribute to others.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Light of The Morning After
It's only natural for an artist to explore different mediums. Everyone's an artist. Everyone's exploring different mediums.
Yesterday I attended the first of a six session photography class. A college sweetheart had dabbled in photography and taken me into the dark room for processing. That was my first exposure.
There was one photo he'd taken of me smiling at him from his bed. I was fully dressed! It wasn't the Mona Lisa, but he had captured a mood, a smirk and a look of love. That was when I first recognized that the artistry of photography was available to anyone who took an interest in the subject. Expertise increases the odds, but the art is in the eyes. Anyone, everyone can be an artist!
I was nearly forty before I owned the artist in me. I'd written a book, attempted decoration, painted my home's interior, created jewelry and perfected the delivery of lectures to high school seniors...but I didn't consider myself an artist until a housekeeper came in, walked around a bit and offered an out loud observation of the obvious, "So you're an artist?".
Yesterday, this artist took her first photography class. This morning, as I headed off with Chocolate on our morning walk, the haze created as light plays off tiny particles in the air caught my eye. I've always taken moments to marvel at light. Today, the morning after, I ran back for my camera.
When you own being an artist, there's freedom to see what others don't, to marvel at it, and attempt to recreate it. Makes me acknowledge that all artistry is a testament to the divine, an effort to mix our creativity with God's in homage to magic.
I wouldn't submit this shot to photo world magazine for technical merits, but I share it here because I saw myself as an artist, as someone attempting to capture a moment marveling at the divine.
We are all artists. Chefs are artists. Most housewives, too. The usual suspects are painters, sculptors, musicians, graphic artists, photographers, authors, journalists, decorators, speakers, and so on. We forget about electricians, plumbers, salespeople, nurses, doctors and all the other professions whose members' products or performances incorporate artistry in less appreciated ways. There are electricians who take pride in how the finished product, the wires, the connections, the conduits, flow, look and function. There's artistry in efficiency, too. There's artistry in conversation. There's even artistry in bad art, whatever the medium.
We are all paying homage to the Light!
Yesterday I attended the first of a six session photography class. A college sweetheart had dabbled in photography and taken me into the dark room for processing. That was my first exposure.
There was one photo he'd taken of me smiling at him from his bed. I was fully dressed! It wasn't the Mona Lisa, but he had captured a mood, a smirk and a look of love. That was when I first recognized that the artistry of photography was available to anyone who took an interest in the subject. Expertise increases the odds, but the art is in the eyes. Anyone, everyone can be an artist!
I was nearly forty before I owned the artist in me. I'd written a book, attempted decoration, painted my home's interior, created jewelry and perfected the delivery of lectures to high school seniors...but I didn't consider myself an artist until a housekeeper came in, walked around a bit and offered an out loud observation of the obvious, "So you're an artist?".
Yesterday, this artist took her first photography class. This morning, as I headed off with Chocolate on our morning walk, the haze created as light plays off tiny particles in the air caught my eye. I've always taken moments to marvel at light. Today, the morning after, I ran back for my camera.
When you own being an artist, there's freedom to see what others don't, to marvel at it, and attempt to recreate it. Makes me acknowledge that all artistry is a testament to the divine, an effort to mix our creativity with God's in homage to magic.
I wouldn't submit this shot to photo world magazine for technical merits, but I share it here because I saw myself as an artist, as someone attempting to capture a moment marveling at the divine.
We are all artists. Chefs are artists. Most housewives, too. The usual suspects are painters, sculptors, musicians, graphic artists, photographers, authors, journalists, decorators, speakers, and so on. We forget about electricians, plumbers, salespeople, nurses, doctors and all the other professions whose members' products or performances incorporate artistry in less appreciated ways. There are electricians who take pride in how the finished product, the wires, the connections, the conduits, flow, look and function. There's artistry in efficiency, too. There's artistry in conversation. There's even artistry in bad art, whatever the medium.
We are all paying homage to the Light!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Photography Class
Just got back from my first photography class. I didn't want to go. I've got too much to do already! And then I went. And it was fabulous. Expect to see more pics posted.
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