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

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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.

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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.