PRO CHOICE? REVISITED

RECENTLY a friend read Pro-Choice? and disagreed with me on certain points because we have too many children in the world that aren’t being cared for already. Sometimes it seems that the only entertainment most of the people in the world have is sex. Of course children have problems, but the parents are THE problem.

The article is found here: https://ojai22.wordpress.com/2014/01/

My friend also mentioned that the father wasn’t mentioned in the article; there are two people involved in making a baby. No, I did not address that fact as the main topic in today’s world seems to be the cry of the woman: I have a right to choose what happens to my body. Of course she does. So does that little one growing inside her. It’s conception is it’s right to life.

The dad – several years ago I was watching a TV show in which the middle-aged couple found themselves pregnant. She started weaving back and forth about whether or not she would have it. He sat quietly while she deliberated about whether or not she was going to kill his baby. I was screaming at the TV set: “It’s his baby, too!” But he sat there like a lump as if he was an innocent bystander. From their conversation you’d think they were talking about a puppy.

I have learned this – we know what we are going to go through before we come here. And we come here to learn a particular lesson, or lessons. You can look at someone’s situation and want to help them out of it. But what do you know of what they are learning, where this terrible thing will take them spiritually? Can you say what is best for them, or when/where they should end their life? You’ve made a choice about your own body, that little one made a choice, too – to be born, to grow, to learn, to fail, to hurt, to love and be loved.

I know children should be fed and cared for like they were the precious things they are. No child should be hungry, or out in the cold. Many children in that condition were born to parents that were also born into that sorry state. There’s no justification for a child to be hungry or ill-clad. Or unloved.

In his book, Confessions of a Kamikaze Cowboy, Dirk Benedict says about his arthritis, weight fluctuation, drinking, cancer, etc: “remove any of these and you diminish the fabric of my life —my joy has been because of these.” He learned the hard way that you must meet the challenge. We get into an experience, we’re hurt and it scares us. Then we think we don’t deserve this, so we turn and run from it. We do ourselves a great disservice by not seeing it through. As Krishnamurti says, “It isn’t that we have to suffer. Suffering is.” We need to meet the challenge and get through it.

But the children, ah, the children. Every adult in the world should be concerned about the children. Seeing that they are fed, clothed, loved, and taught to stand on their own and, that they can be strong enough to do so.

Now, Pro Choice or Pro Life – what lunacy! If you are pro life, that’s self explanatory. But pro choice? Shouldn’t that be pro death? Isn’t that what it’s all about? Shouldn’t you take it further that just a woman’s body, and look at the entire picture? Pro death to an infant is what it’s all about so call it what it is. – Life and Death. You’re for one or the other.

INTRO TO FOLLOWING 10 ARTICLES

 

 

The following posts were written in the Spring of 2014. I had been on the Macrobiotic diet seriously for just over a year. I had begun a journey that would take a few years, and involved examining my life. Many of the events I looked at were ordinary, but there was much I had never told anyone. As the thoughts came pouring out I typed them as they wouldn’t go away till I did.

I posted them in a forum at that time for about 10 minutes, or so it seemed. Then deleted them all, emptying my blog completely. I’ve been re-reading some of them and decided to post them as they seem different to me now. Perhaps I’ve grown more than I realized.

I’m only including the ones that may have interest as they are somewhat different. I’ve put them in order and will post the last one first so they can be read top to bottom, rather than the reverse.

MAKES MY FACE HAPPY!

 

Some months ago, one of my quiet thinking bouts was interrupted for a fraction of a second. I saw myself alone and needing no one. I could travel the world alone and be very happy. The it was gone as quickly as it came. I didn’t realize it had to do with Freedom, which is a topic that occupies my mind quire a lot.

It was always with me, in the background. Thinking about it did nothing to bring it closer and actually prevented a greater understanding of it.

Recently I’ve been re-reading Confessions of a Kamikaze Cowboy. I’d had the book since ’91 or ’92 and though I had read sections of it many times, I had only read it through when I first got it and again in 2000. I had gravitated toward the New Hampshire part each time I picked it up without considering that the entire book is filled with nuggets of wisdom. It seems to flow in a more cohesive way that I remember but that could be a change in my understanding. Also, I wasn’t a particular Dirk Benedict fan early on when I ordered the book but I was a big fan of the original Battlestar Galactica so I thought it might be fun to read. The part of the book that kept returning me to it made me a very respectful and admiring fan of it’s author.

Now I find myself near the end of the book where the talk is about relationships, that is, men and women. Then, as I see it again, it is brought into my understanding: I can be alone and be happy. I can live alone, needing no one to prop up my life. If we need someone to “complete” us, and we are taught all our lives that we do, plus it fills our waking thoughts and haunts our dreams – that is a dependency. There can never be Freedom where there is dependency. I see this so well in the outer but couldn’t get it past my psychological beliefs.

Beyond the world of thought there is a place where Freedom and Wholeness reign. It’s the place we long to be, to live, but we look for it continually in another person, blocking the one thing we want from actually coming forth in our lives. What a dreadful thing we do to ourselves. The pain we have to go through before we turn toward this Immensity shakes us to our roots. It seems we need the pain to turn us around.

Something comes to mind that I saw in a TV show eons ago. It may have been a religious show. The only thing I remember is a tapestry that was shown. It was a picture of a regal lion, King of the Beasts, and lying on the ground in front of him was a snake. The lion had his right front paw on the snake’s head. The snake was called The Great Deceiver and he had been conquered by the King. The Great Deceiver is psychological thought which divides itself into two, as the thinker and thought, when it is actually one. Factual thought is just that – your name, where you live, 2+2=4, the Mississippi River flows into the ocean. etc. It is knowledge that is necessary for daily living. Psychological thought consists of all the conditioning, propaganda, sentimentality; greed; superiority, inferiority; all the hype and dogma that swirls within our brain. In the former, thought functions as the instrument that it truly is. In the later, it functions as an “entity” – an illusion, a false positive. The great deception, the false, the abstract that controls us, are the lies by which we live our lives.

I’m learning about the proper way to eat because of this book. It also gives me food for thought. I don’t need anyone to prop me up; I can walk alone. Though having someone whose spiritual growth is twin to your own, to stand beside you must cause your heart to soar – and if you and that other have climbed to heights known only to the few, then the shared ecstasy, sweetness, and joy must be without measure. However, your happiness doesn’t depend on this. You can be alone and be happy. What an absolutely magnificent, factual, thrilling thing to learn! Makes my face happy!

I’m so grateful this book found it’s way out into the world. And to me.

NO ROOM FOR IT’S ROOTS Part 1

For several months I have concentrated on the food part of Macrobiotics.  I just finished reading Confessions of a Kamikazi Cowboy again and am finding an integration of the parts into the whole.  I decided to read it again but didn’t get very far.  I was struck by something that hit me like a physical blow.

I know this sounds weird but I often see “dead” people, mostly relatives, or close friends.  Seen them all my life. They usually appear soon after they have died and sit looking at me amazed that I can see them, or perhaps that they can see me.  I can see the surprise on their faces.  Sometimes I taunt them: Didn’t know I could see dead people, did you?  Other times they’ve been there awhile, then come visit me to leave a message.  I talk to them (mentally), ask what they want to tell me and as soon as I understand their message, they’re gone.

Just before I started the MB diet a group of my relatives kept appearing.  I though it had a special meaning so I gave them my attention and said,  “It looks like I’m going to die.  Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

What I ‘absorbed’ from them had to do with sugar.  I was killing myself with sugar.  I was dying for sure, but I was doing it to myself.  I was eating little chocolate treats that “only have 12 grams of sugar in each one.”  I understood their message and cleaned the sugar out of my house.

Recently I saw that group again but their message this time was more subtle.  Sitting in their midst was my ex-husband who had inflicted more pain on me that I thought I could bear.  He looked a bit different.  Even his eyes had changed, but he wasn’t looking at me as were all the others.  He was looking off toward the side.

I exploded!  What was he doing with my family?  After all that he had done, why did they allow it?  I don’t care how different he looks, which I took to mean he had changed quite a lot.  But that didn’t take away from what he left behind, what he had set in motion before he died.  People often show up within a few days; took my mother two days, my dad, instantly. An old boyfriend didn’t take long.  I was in the bathroom which didn’t seem to matter.  He took my face in both hands and kissed the top of my head, laughing happily all the while.  So this man taking several years to show up at my psychic door told me he had come a long way from where he had been spiritually when he left this plane.

Just days ago he came back for another visit.  This time he’s alone and he’s looking straight at me but I see nothing in his eyes of the man I knew.  Still I didn’t let him off the hook.  Plowed right into him.  Does he know his cohorts are still carrying on what he started?  Of course he does, but I didn’t give him a chance to say so.  What he did was unforgivable, absolutely unforgivable.  I turned away from him, after telling him to stay away from me and my relatives.

The next day – the next day! – I decided to re-read the Cowboy.  Skipped the intro and started with the Preface — the arthritis, weight, drinking, cancer —remove any of these and you diminish the fabric of my life —my joy has been because of these.

And it hits me full force.  I see again what I was shown long ago — I’m walking up a stairway at a slant angle, slowly, laboriously, when I become aware that my husband is on a downward course on the same staircase that is only wide enough for one.  With each step he makes a ‘zzzt zzzt’ sound.  We collide violently; he, walking right over me like I wasn’t there.  I am left lying flat on the floor, barely breathing for fear of falling.  There are no longer stairs going up where I’m lying, just a flat surface that is so steep that I press to the floor to keep from sliding down, breathing ever so slightly and carefully, even pressing my fingertips down.  I hear him continuing down the steps like nothing happened.  My direction has changed.  The angle is almost straight up and down.  His direction has changed as well, he keeps moving downward, making the ‘zzzt zzzt’ sound with each step.

Because the ‘collision’ was so monstrous it stayed with me too long.  And I only saw the front.  The big, big front.  The bigger the front, the bigger the back.  When someone does something for you, you want to thank them for their kindness.  His acts were done viciously, so I couldn’t thank him, but I could forgive him.  I always knew, instinctively, that I couldn’t run from the situation I was in, that I had to go through it.  I had to come out on the other side of it with an understanding that would happen no other way.  Running away would have kept me on that long slow path.  Forgiving him is a necessary part of letting it go.  The antagonism was complementary.

If this hadn’t happened in my life I don’t think I would have found all that I’ve been learning, especially now.  It turned me in a more positive direction.  Without the pain and anguish I would have missed this book and it’s teachings about food and life.  I would have missed the man who wrote it.  I like knowing he’s in my world.

I think I’m growing roots.  And I can stand alone.

…and the man or woman who would have remained a sunny garden-flower, with no room for its roots and too much sunshine for its head, by the falling of the walls and the neglect of the gardener, is made the banian of the forest, yielding shade and fruit to wide neighbourhoods of men.

Ralph Waldo Emerson
Compensation

NO ROOM FOR IT’S ROOTS Part 2

I’ve been asked a question about the seeing of dead people in the foregoing article that I will answer here.   So I will attempt to make the earlier post a bit clearer, though it can be somewhat complicated.

It seems all my explanations are stories.  My children had me figured out years ago — “Ask Mom a question and you get a story.  Everything’s a story with Mom.”  At the time I felt like I should be doing it differently, but have finally realized that’s who I am.  Like the Captain and Zoie on Firefly, I have stories.  And the battle scars to go with them.

QUESTION:  I’m curious about something and I hope it doesn’t bother you if I ask.  When you say that you see your deceased relatives, you mean it in a figurative sense, in dreams or you see them right in front of you?

Neither.  The few people I’ve mentioned this to seem to misunderstand because they have no reference point.  They can’t compare it to anything that is known to them so they say it’s just my imagination.  It is different from imagination, but uses the same faculty.  When you look at a memory, you’re using it.  When you imagine a place you’d like to visit, you’re using it.  But, when you look at, or imagine, a picture of something that is so personal to you, you are present with it. Involved with it, you feel it as part of you.  This is how it seems to me but it may be more involved with the dead folks.  I’m really seeing them and they are clearly somewhere else.  Even the light is different.  And they have no time as we know it.

Visions are different and I think some of them may be from The Akashic Record where all things are recorded. Visions happen whether you are awake or asleep but you NEVER mistake a dream for a vision.  But this is not about visions.

When I see someone or something, I cease to see the outer world around me.  My attention is focused on the person in front of me who I may see as surrounded by darkness, and they look smaller than normal as though they are far away.  But clear and colorful without any light shining on them.  God, I’m not saying this right!

Let me give you an example.  A woman I used to know had told me  something about another woman that actually she had made up, and was telling others that it was me.  She died and I saw her soon after.  She looked the same, but gave off the impression that her mouth was curled with scorn.  I understood that she had been talking about me as the other woman.  She wanted me to know it.

About a year passed and suddenly a darkness formed in my mind and my attention was drawn to it.  She had been 70 years old when she died but suddenly I’m looking at the darkness and she comes striding along, bouncing, full of energy.  She has no age but is youthful and totally beautiful.  She reaches the spot in front of me and turns to face me.  I don’t recognize her.  She just stood there smiling, waiting till I figured it out.  Her golden blonde hair cascaded down below her shoulders.  She was energy itself.  Suddenly I recognized her and her message started to come to me as though I was absorbing it mentally.  I said, “You want to tell me something.”  She keeps smiling and looking at me.  “You want to tell me you’re sorry.”

How she let me know I was right was so strange.  You know the game they have at carnivals and fairs – you use a mallet to hit a large button that sends an arrow up to the number of pounds your force sent it.  Somewhat like a very large thermometer.  If you get it to the top, you’ve hit the Jackpot and bells ring.  That’s the sound she sent me, the sound of the bell that is very distinct.  I had hit the jackpot!

As soon as I understood she turned and started walking peppily back the way she came.  I called after her, “What about the others?”  I was thinking about the people she had told her tales to.  By then she had disappeared but I could still tell she was there and got a clear message from her:  You tell them! I started to say, “But I….”  It was too late.  I knew she had gone, could feel it.  The field of darkness disappeared and I was suddenly standing in the middle of the floor looking at the wall.

The way I see may not be the way others do.  Some people can see dead people all the time, and can feel overpowered by it.  There are those who actually make a living with it. They call it a gift as they have an open door that most folks don’t have.  I would call mine a small window that has always been used for Guidance.  For me that’s why it’s there.  And it’s random.  I’m alive today because of it.  However, I don’t only see dead people. I see living ones, too and sometimes hear snatches of their conversations.  The weird thing is, I can’t always tell if it has already happened or if its the future.  But it will be something I need to know for my own growth, or to save my life.  If I need to go through a terrible thing in order to grow, I get no message from anyone, anywhere.

Hardly anyone knows about this. I mentioned something I had seen to one of my sisters once, and discovered it was a mistake.  I don’t know why I’ve started writing about it, why I suddenly have so much to say.  Perhaps this diet has affected me strangely!  Or perhaps all this stuff has just been waiting to get out.

*********************************

UPDATE.  Since I wrote this 3 years ago, I have learned more about the events that have been taking place in my life.  All that is in your mind, which you know as yourself, including what is in the recesses of your mind, must be seen from a  point of view that is beyond thought, through Perception, but it starts with the known looking at itself.  What I was seeing was the beginning of that.  Much more has happened since then but it’s private.

NO ROOM FOR IT’S ROOTS Part 3

Sometimes I’ll see someone like they’re standing right in front of me, but I only see their face.  A perfect circle of golden light about the size of their face surrounded by darkness.

These people are always so happy.  And beautiful beyond belief.  Each time I think that one is the most beautiful of all, but they’re all absolutely, totally, flawlessly, perfectly beautiful.

I bought a book written by a man who was elderly when he died.  When I started to read it, suddenly there he was.  He had no age, was very handsome, laughing and happy.  I got his message clearly: “She’s reading my book!”  Now that made me laugh.  Why would he be so thrilled that an obscure person was reading his book? Was I the only person on the planet reading it?  Or was it that I needed to read it badly?  Don’t know.

When my daughter was killed the city people were using her side kitchen door which everyone used so we sat on the patio next door waiting.  I’ll skip over everything to this part – after being there a long time suddenly there was a circle of light on my shoulder.  It surrounded my daughter’s face.  Her head was lying on my shoulder and her eyes were closed.  Later someone took me home, she was still with me, in the same position.

I knew I wouldn’t sleep but I went to bed anyway.  I lay there watching her sleep.  Even though her head was close to mine I could still see her face.  Just before daylight she opened her eyes.  I watcher her eyes, saw the puzzle in them, saw her remember what had happened to her, watched as a tear flowed out of each eye.

She seemed to realize she had her head on my shoulder and sat up.  She was very close and I could see her like I always had.  I could see the struggle on her face – she knew she wasn’t here any longer, yet I was the first person she saw – from there.  I had talked to her about seeing dead people, and she figured it out.  In her eyes came the beginning of understanding, then the entire thing vanished.

She stayed with me for a few years.  Even when I couldn’t see her I could feel her presence.  I had kept some of her things and was going to have to move to a bigger place.  Each time I thought about an apartment she would place a hand on my shoulder.  I learned she was telling me that wasn’t the right apartment.  I finally found the right one.  I was writing an email to a friend of hers, telling her I wouldn’t be able to go there as I would then live in a place that my daughter had never been.  Didn’t think I could stand it.  Suddenly there she is – in my new apartment.  It was like a cut-away with a wall missing.  She was walking through the rooms.  Then she stopped in the hallway, turned and looked straight at me.  I stopped complaining and moved.  She went there with me.

Another time I was sending an email to someone about her dying and there she is in front of me, dancing around, kicking her legs, throwing her arms around, and saying, “Yeah, I’m dead!  I’m dead!”  She was so funny.

I missed her presence one night and wondered where she was.  Then I saw her.  My younger son was sitting at his computer.  She was standing behind him, her hands on the back of the chair, looking over his shoulder at his computer.  She visited all of us.

She stayed with me a few years, with my breaking heart.  When her murderer was sentenced to prison she was jubilant.  Almost immediately she showed me her back which meant she had to go.  She came over and kissed my forehead, then turned away again, then came back again and again to kiss me again  She knew when she came back here she would be someone else so this was it.  I don’t think people ‘recycle’ this fast normally, but I had already been shown that she was coming back to us.  She was laughing and happy because of that.  For me it was bittersweet.

THE MYSTERY

 

I’ve been writing so much recently that I have wondered where the heck it’s coming from. And why can’t I stop it. While I was working on one article, another was waiting in the background. With the last one I felt like it was over and I could get on with other things. I was getting into bed, well past midnight, when I realized my mind is clear, nothing whirling around in there. It felt so good! And then….

…Then I remembered him. Him. I never met him, didn’t see him, don’t know who he was, don’t know why he came to see me or why he didn’t come back, but I will never forget him.

Almost involuntarily I grabbed the iPad, propped it up on the bedcovers and started tapping.

I was in the hospital, had just had surgery. I had three babies at home being cared for by my husband and brother. I was worried sick about them. The babies, I mean. The nurse came in and gave me a sleeping pill, and watched while I swallowed it.

There was a bed between my bed and the door, a semi-private room. The woman in that bed had a lot of pain and was awake much of the night. She was awake when he came. She said the nurse brought him. He waited at the door near her bed while the nurse came over to my bed and tried to wake me. The pill I had taken was working so I wasn’t having any. I slept on. The nurse left our room and he walked away with her.

When I asked my roommate what he looked like she couldn’t give much of a description except he had sort of red hair, sort of. I thought it was my husband as his hair was really red, nothing ‘sort of’ about it. And he had left my babies in the middle of the night, for what reason? I was prepared to do some top-notch yelling when I talked to him. When the doctor came he was concerned because I was so upset.

No, it wasn’t my husband. He was at home with my brother and the babies. Ah, so it must have been my brother-in-law. He had strawberry blond hair which is sort of red so I assumed it was him. I knew he was working till 1:00 A.M. at that time but couldn’t understand why he would make a 2-hour drive in the middle of the night without my sister. I asked what time all this activity took place and my roommate said about 1:00 A.M. Stranger and stranger.

The nurse involved was off the next day but I talked to my brother-in-law. He said he had worked the night before till 2:00 A.M.. Had then gone straight home and fallen into bed. And what kind of flowers did I like?

It became a mystery that I wanted to solve. I tried reasoning it out – first, hospitals are very strict about visiting hours. They don’t allow people to walk in and announce they want to visit with a patient in the wee hours of the morning. Nor do nurses try to wake you in the middle of the night, especially when they have given you a sleeping pill just two hours earlier. I concluded the other patient had had a dream. Still, the intrigue was fascinating. What kind of person could walk into a hospital at that hour and ask to see a patient, then wait while they tried to wake the patient? The mystery took my mind away from worrying about my babies. Slightly.

Next day the nurse was back on duty so I got her attention ASAP. Yes, she remembered him. His hair was sort of reddish. Anything else? Not really, and she was in a hurry. No answer to why she brought him back to my room, or why she tried to wake me. Both unorthodox happenings in a hospital.

Next time I spoke with my brother he had an idea to make me feel better so he made a joke. Unfortunately it was about not feeding the children. I was so upset the doctor sent me home as the hospital was too stressful. I had to stay in bed and rest, just oversee the daily routines.

So I never found out who he was, what he wanted or why he came to visit in the middle of the night. Hadn’t thought about him for years but he’s still a mystery that one day I am going to solve.

 

‘TIS A PUZZLEMENT!

 

I don’t know how to write this. I don’t even know how to begin. This stuff has been pouring out of me, regardless of how I felt about it. I toyed with the word ‘catharsis’ then discarded it, though it was correct. I was terribly embarrassed by what I had written, happy that no one was reading it, but still, it was out there in public. It was just about me. Just me, me, me. A vision had told me something which I didn’t understand.

After a few articles an empty feeling left me thinking I was finished and had to stop. That I would be violating something if I continued. I even appealed to a friend. He said the same word: Catharsis. Then I realized the empty feeling was only partial. The emptiness must be full, not partial. And the me was what I was leaving behind. “You must go through the doorway of yourself,” or something like that.

Mentally I could see other posts waiting to be written and there, in the last one (I hope), was something that I had never understood, but is what I’m doing right now. And I saw it so long ago. And a silly little thing that just typed itself yesterday had a link to it. I know this isn’t making any sense. It’s like that quote from George Carlin ~~ Even if I knew what was happening I wouldn’t know what to do about it.

Some visions are to be allowed simply to unfold. So I must continue.

 

 

 

VISIONS: PAST LIVES Part 1

 

In the original ROOTS I mentioned visions. Let’s go back to that.

During one period of my life I was shown a few previous lives. We have so many lifetimes, but they should be seen as one Life. I saw these through my eyes at the time they were happening. If it was far in the past it seemed like I was looking through a tunnel. If the more recent past the tunnel was shorter. Though tunnel doesn’t really say it well. My point of view is, I think, from farther back in my brain. Once I looked into the future.

I saw myself on Atlantis a couple of times. I was in a temple once. I danced in Atlantis. The architecture was different – sort of like a melding of modern and Oriental. Perhaps it was only the building I was looking at. Small vehicles, long and narrow, were parked on a black pavement. Big enough for just one person and I think when they were in operation they moved a short distance above the ground.

In Egypt I wore one of those beautiful headdresses that cover the head and rise up. I walked through the coolness of what seemed to be some kind of tomb.

Somewhere I lived on a little farm in a weathered house. I saw the farm, then was inside the hot kitchen cooking the noonday meal on a wood-burning stove. A teen-age daughter, who reminded me of my daughter in this life, was helping me. I took a pan of biscuits from the oven and then to the table. It was like a picnic table with benches on either side, one end of the table shoved against the wall. Some small children sat with their backs to me. On the other side of the table, facing me, sat a man that I didn’t look at. The young boy beside him looked to be sort of chunky, or stout maybe the word, but not overly so. He looked up at me and when I looked into his eyes I recognized my older son of today who is 6’6” tall.

The first life I saw I was tied to a huge post, more like the truck of a tree that had been cut down. I was looking at a soldier wearing armor, even his face was covered. I knew it was me tied to the post as I was looking out of her eyes, and wondered what I looked like. Instantly I was seeing the picture from in front of her. I thought of her as ‘her’ because she was so magnificent. She was barefoot, with some kind of cloth or skin falling from one shoulder down to just below the top of her thighs.. Her hair was wild. I could see in her face that she was me, and geez, was she angry! If she could have gotten loose she would have had the soldier for breakfast. I thought she was truly magnificent. I still smile when I look at her.

When I lived in the San Gabriel Valley there was an old house from the 18th or 19th Century that was in need of repair. A group was trying to get it declared a historic monument so it was still standing there for awhile. Tracts of houses and a small shopping center had sprung up around. There was also an old one-room school which had been moved to another location nearby so it was being preserved.

We were at the market one day and the gates to the house were open so we drove in to get closer look. It had two floors with a narrow staircase against one wall. We didn’t go inside as it was locked. How do you explain a strange feeling as you walk around a place? I walked along a path that led to a wooden bridge across a moat to a small island but the bridge had fallen in. As I retraced my steps suddenly I was wearing a long orange gown. I was actually wearing a grey flannel pantsuit with a boxy jacket. I was not wearing a long orange dress. There were not flowers and greenery everywhere. I reached down and grabbed my pants legs to make sure I knew where I was and the spell was broken. I re-entered the here and now.

An odd feeling stayed with me that I couldn’t shake. It had captured my daughter as well. Finally she asked, “Are we going to move into that house, or what?” I told her, “I think we have already lived there.”

The house wouldn’t go away. On this day I had sent the little ones to school and was doing chores. Had just made the bed and was adjusting the pillows. Finished, I straightened up. From that point of view I was standing in the middle of a sea of tall grass, blowing gently in the wind. I was looking at that house in it’s heyday. The tall grass was everywhere. I looked to my left and there was the little school in it’s original place. I turned back, past the house and looked behind. There were the foothills, looking the same, except the trees looked a bit different. As I turned back toward the house I noticed a fence alongside a narrow lane. With my eyes I followed it till it reached the place to turn into the house. There was a man on a huge horse, just turning into the driveway. He moved along a short distance, then stopped. He bent over, reaching down the ground. I couldn’t see what he was doing because the grass was so high. The he straightened up with a little tyke in one hand, sat it in front of him, and kept moving toward the house. One of the windows in the house claimed my attention but it was at an angle so I could see nothing. Suddenly it was all gone and I was standing beside the bed looking at the wall.

Only a few of many. Walt Whitman once wrote, “I, Myself, have died 10,000 times before.”

This makes racism look like the thing it is – the stupidest thing on the planet.

 

We’ll get back to that old house….

 

UPDATE: I have since learned that the house was saved. It was moved to another location.

 

VISIONS: PAST LIVES Part 2

 

The unfolding of these lives happened over about a two year period. Then I found the book, “The Life Everlasting” by Marie Corelli and it became one of my all-time favorites. One more:

I lived in Cuba and, though very young, was married to an older man, the commandant of the settlement where we lived. It was sometime ago. I was standing outside in a long dark dress; other people were milling about. A young soldier walked by and I could tell we were in love though we had never spoken. Nothing improper had ever happened but my husband was very jealous of him.

My husband had been out for some days with a company of men and was returning. I stood there and watched them ride in on horseback. The scene shifted. I was lying across a bed, naked and tied to the bed. He was standing beside the bed, picking up objects and hitting me with them. He wasn’t using great force, just enough to break my bones, but not too quickly. I looked through her eyes as he systematically broke every bone in my body, but felt none of the pain this time.

At first I kept thinking the young soldier would come and help me but as time passed I realized it wasn’t possible. I understood that some of my husband’s men were killing him. There was no help for either of us. All the other people in the settlement were in their homes letting it happen. As this sick man moved upon the bed toward me to make rape his final act of possession and contempt, I backed away inside myself, into darkness. My young life ended there as a body of broken bones. As I watched him I recognized him — he was my husband in this life. I had married him again.

Thinking of this past life led me to look more closely at my present life, with the same man. Whatever started back then wasn’t finished. I had already uncovered some of the mystery, enough to know he had an agenda and I was to be used to bring it about. It was completed and put in place before I realized what he was doing.

If there is something you treasure within you but want to hide it from yourself and others, you can build another personality right on top of it. It’s a psychological maneuver that has as part of it’s machinations, the probable destruction of another person, in order to cover the part of yourself that you feel is vulnerable. The person attempting it may be deadly. What I saw and finally understood was that he was a man with a web. I walked right into it and got stuck. He drained me of my essence on a daily basis while I fought for my life without fully realizing the enormity of the situation. Then he walked away whistling while I stood there in my bare bones. He used everyone and everything.

His cohorts helped him. They found laughter in the pain and anguish they caused. When he died I thought it would end. They were having too much fun to stop, finding entertainment in their antics. Hiding what they were doing just as he did. So adept at deception, all the while playing the victim themselves. At the time I didn’t know about the victim/victimizer personality.

It was a most complex situation that had to be seen and unraveled. As I was thinking about this early one morning, suddenly my dead husband appeared. I was struck by his eyes. He was a different man from the one who had died a few years earlier. He knew that I had uncovered what he had done; he may even have been waiting for it. What I found shocking was what was in his eyes this time. He was begging for forgiveness for what he had done. There seemed to be a close-up of his eyes and I could see the pain and sorrow his actions have caused him. He was imploring me to set him free. He needs to be forgiven; he won’t find peace until then. Whatever you do to others you have done to yourself. You are stuck with what you’ve done.

I wrote earlier that I saw I had to forgive him. I saw not only that I had to forgive him, but that I could. But I didn’t know how. Also, I didn’t see the situation fully at that time. Now I see that forgiveness is the only way to end two lifetimes of overwhelming antagonism.

A dam was opened and the tears flowed. Two days later it’s still happening. I have no more animosity toward him; it’s been washed away. The tears are like a cleansing. Writing about it is another step in the process.

 

 

VISIONS: THE TWO STARS Part 3

 

My children were very young and my washer decided to take a break so I got the dirty clothes together and headed for the laundromat. Loaded the washers and stood leaning on one of them, waiting.

Suddenly the building disappeared. I’m looking at a big dark night sky. I see a star in the lower right-hand corner, rising upward at an angle. I know it is myself.

In the upper left-hand corner I see another star moving downward. I knew it was my husband at that time. I watch the two move closer and closer together. Then I realized – they’re going to crash into each other! They did. Violently. The force of the crash changed the direction of both of them. His star went straight down, like a rock; mine started climbing straight upward, putting distance between us.

This was reminiscent of another vision but there is a change with this one. My ex has disappeared completely and I am climbing slowly upward alone in the blackness of the night. I look upward, and there, hanging in the darkness is a big, beautiful star, huge, and shining like a diamond. I’m on a course that will take me straight to that shining star.

I continue climbing slowly till I reach the brilliant shining one, then both stars dissolve into a bright shining light that totally illuminates the dark night sky.  There are no visible stars, just the Light.   And there is Freedom and Peace.

The vision ended and I turned my attention to my dirty laundry.

 

 

 

VISIONS Part 4

 

This is the first major, breath-taking vision that I remember. I was married and had young children when it happened. I was so stunned by it and it’s presentation that I actually told my husband about it. Big mistake.

It was night. I was sitting in the passenger side of a car, just sitting there like I was waiting for something or someone. The door on the driver’s side opened and a man got in. I didn’t know him but I knew of him, had heard of him. I was surprised to see him. I didn’t seem to think it odd how he looked; acted like I didn’t see the Western hat, the huge sunglasses, and that the bottom of his face, beneath the sunglasses, was covered with a mask. The mask was formed like a human face. He had a presence that was unique. In the vision I knew who he was. I was engaged to be married in the vision. He said, “You’re not going marry him, you’re going to marry me.!” Perplexed, I just looked at him. He started the car and drove off as I thought, “He’s a good driver.”

We drove to an old house which was in my neighborhood; the house was from another century. The outside of the house was the same. Inside it was totally different. Much bigger, with a ton of people milling about like they were having a party. My ‘fiancee’ was there, standing by a long table with some other people. He was my real-life husband. He was wearing a suit that he had when we got married but no longer owned. The Man with me gave him the same message: “She’s not going to marry you; she’s going to marry me.” Then we turned our back on the party and, hand in hand, walked toward the stairs.

The stairs were very wide and covered with furniture. From side to side, from top to bottom, chairs, sofas, tables, whatever, the stairs were covered with furniture. We just looked at each other and started to climb over it. If I had trouble as I struggled to climb over the barrier,  he helped me, pulling me across the obstacle that blocked the way,  both of us laughing all the while.

I don’t know how long we climbed or how many floors, but suddenly we were at the top. We stepped onto a landing that faced a wall. Suddenly I had to use the bathroom. There was a door to our left that he opened. It was supposed to be a bathroom. It was much larger than most bathrooms and had no fixtures except a large toilet bowl in the middle of the room. No tank, no sink, just boxes stacked around the walls like the room was used for storage.

It was the toilet bowl that claimed my attention immediately. Not one like you see in a home, but one that is always used in public restroom – big white bowl with a black seat that was split in the front the way those black seats always are, not a complete circle. A public toilet. I was dismayed but said nothing. Still, I didn’t want to sit on a public toilet. Toilets in a dream have to do with cleansing. And this was a public toilet.

I closed the door as he waited outside, then the scene changed. I was up on the bowl with a foot on either side of the seat, stooping down. (Sorry about the graphics). I heard voices and looked back at the door that I had entered. It, too, had changed. It was wood on the bottom and a single pane of glass formed the top half. Outside the door was the Man and an old lady. He was saying to her, “Take care of her. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I turned to look at the room around me with boxes on the floor and stacked against the walls. When I turned back around, the Man and the old lady were gone. Suddenly I noticed another door right beside the one I had entered. Earlier when we stopped on the the landing we faced a wall that apparently had another room on the other side of it. Now there was a door that I hadn’t noticed before. It led into that room and it, too, was half wood, half glass. There was a wall phone beside the door on the inside of that room. Standing directly in front of the door with the handset to his ear was my husband at that time. He was looking me straight in the eye. We looked at each other for a minute, then the vision vanished.

 

~~~~~Bathrooms have to do with cleansing. The boxes represent the psychological content of our Consciousness that we have stored in our brains that eventually must be looked at, considered and emptied. That’s the cleansing of the brain of the past. It’s part of spiritual growth.

As I finished writing each of these posts back in the Spring of 2014, I published them on a forum. They didn’t stay up long as I felt I had bared my soul, and it was unnerving. I couldn’t rest till I deleted them.

I see them differently now.

 

PRO-CHOICE?

You say you’re Pro-Choice, do you?  What exactly does that mean?  That you have a right to choose what happens to your body?  Of course you do.  It is your body after all.

I’d like to look at those choices that you have, that you work so hard to protect, and rightly so.  When other people have power over your body, that is yourself they are manipulating.  Your mind may run free, but if your body is controlled your mind will be right there with it trying to survive.  Your right to make choices for your own body is an integral part of Freedom.

Your first choice will be – are you going to hit the sack with this guy?  Of course, if he’s your husband you probably will.  Whether he’s a husband, lover, or someone you just met that rings all your bells, this is where you make your first choice. Right?  Let’s continue.

In case you’ve decided to mingle your energies and bodily fluids, your next choice will be – which one of you will provide the protection?  Will he or will you do the honors?  This is an important choice that you should consider carefully.  If he’s a husband or old lover that choice may have been made long ago, but it is still a choice that had to be made.  If he’s a stranger that you met on the train, then who will you trust to make that decision?  This is where you make your second choice.

Let’s say you have decided to be responsible for yourself.  You’ve made two choices and now another one looms before you – what kind of contraceptive will you use? Thanks to modern science you have several products from which to choose.  All to help you prevent pregnancy.  That, you don’t want so you make your choice and hit the sack.  It all worked out rather well; you made the choices you needed to make to achieve your goal of getting laid but not getting pregnant.  Congratulations!

But what if….What if you got careless, or you don’t want him to think you’re that kind of woman – as though he would care! – or some other tipsy reason, what if you find yourself in the position of having thrown all caution, and choices, to the wind?  Without exercising any of your choices you allow the Law of Procreation to fulfill it’s natural function.  This, too, is a choice.  You leave yourself open to the Law that has kept humanity going for a million years.  You have chosen to become part of that Law.  With that act you became Pro-Life!

You carry inside you a new body.  Are you again saying you have a right to decide what happens to your body?  Of course you do, that hasn’t changed.  We’ve examined the choices you had before you; they are all valid choices. The problem here was your choice to overlook any protection for yourself against the Law of the Universe – Life itself.  Your choice made it possible for the Law to do exactly what the Law does – begin a new person with a new body.  Do you really want a law that says you have the right to harm the tiny defenseless body that belongs to someone else?  Yes, that’s right.  That is not your body growing inside you; it’s the one you and your friend have given permission to come forth.  Through your choice and your act the two of you invited it.  It’s body belongs to itself.  It has the same Freedom you have.

Being too small to make it’s own decisions you and papa share the responsibility of protecting it’s life and it’s rights.  You gave it Life, can you now give it Love?

Moving in tune with the Universal Principle you became Pro-Life.  You allowed another life to begin, as it was allowed for you.  Congratulations!