A tipping point is nigh.  The mountain beckons.  I don my boots, head straight for the wilderness, my dog quick to join me.  I know this is about Haiti.  Yes, Haiti.  Since the initial tremor, I have been “there” more than here.  The connection strengthen day by day and creates sleepless nights.   

 As I traverse the familiar deer trail, my body reads particularly high on the Richter scale.   Every cell is charged with a higher frequency.  Brought on the wind moving across the glistening, snow-covered mountainside, the collective voice of the Haitians permeates my awareness.   Many, many voices!  I listen so very carefully.  I listen with my heart, with my spirit ears.  I am one with them.  “Tick! Tick! Tick!”  One second in the lives of the Haitians goes by...another second and then another—time stands still.

I’m pulled into depths of the lives of the Haitians.  Tick!  Tick!  Tick!  Tick!  I see bodies slow down, vital functions seizing up.   Tick!  Tick!  With every tick I am brought closer to them, drawn into them, into their feelings and thoughts and hearts.   Moving from this side of the veil to the other and back again, simultaneously, touching spirits—god matter to god matter.  Words repeat in my head, softly, gently, “It’s okay.  It’s just okay.  You are okay.  And you are okay.  Quiet yourselves.  Listen.   You who are about to go through the veil stay calm.   You are okay.  You are not separate from anyone.  You are not separated.  Separation is not real."

“Many of you have gone through the veil, and are on the ‘other side’ now.  With the monumental changes that have occurred, confusion permeates your situation.   It takes time to adjust to such monumental changes—individually and collectively.  Whether you remain embodied or have left embodiment, these are confusing times.  For those of you who left embodiment prior to the body succumbing to death, confusion is intensified.  Clinging to the body, life, families—all that’s familiar—is painful.   I recognize your pain.

 “Let me hold you in my heart.  Let me hold you in your hearts.  Open your hearts to see that you are okay.   Look within the heart of your own awareness to see the truth—the big picture. Know that you now have greater awareness as you complete this passage through the veil—as these circumstances bring you home.  Know that you are whole.  Be in peace.   

“Know that in your “death” you are playing a role to humanity.   Your life—your death—will not be wasted.  It has become a gift.  Be in peace.  Be in gratitude now.   I come to the other side to be with you who have left embodiment.   I ask you to calm yourself so that you may help return to calm those who are still embodied.    Let them know that you are fine.  They can hear you if you embrace calmness.   I know you can hear them.   Comfort them with your calm.   Let them know they are okay.  Help them see beyond death even though death is upon their bodies.   Be at peace.   Be at peace.

 “Your being at peace supports all of us who remain here in the physical dimension.  Your suffering has already opened our hearts.  You will not be forgotten.    Be at peace for we need your continued support.   Although the form is not clear, more earthquakes are at hand—further turmoil and chaos.   All of you who are leaving embodiment at this time know within your hearts that you are doing so for a reason…for a greater reason.  We ask that you hold a space for us—a space of peace and calm.

Right now I see a Bald Eagle soaring through the heart of the Haitian voices.  Soaring against the mountains before me— such great majesty.  The eagle is soaring directly over my head now.   Powerfully god-like…reaching for the heavens.  “Thank you Bald Eagle.  Thank you for confirming my communion with fellow spirits – our dear Haitian Kin.  Thank you for being a messenger of God.  Thank you for guiding us.  Thank you.   Thank you Haitians.”

I now move with the wind, following the eagle up the side of the mountain listening for further message from this winged god spirit who knows no veil. 

One final thought as the Bald Eagle merges with the heavens, “Haitians!  I’m with you.  I cross over.   I meet with you.  I sit with you.  I hold a place of peace with you.  We’re so all in this together.   Now we must work from a collective mind.  We must dissolve the veil—the illusion of separation—whether or not we remain embodied.   

“Prayer has its place.  Understanding leaves us as one.  It’s time to live as a collective heart.”

Kin, Ia

I conversed with Sophia today.  With a simple query, she broke down in tears.  Collecting herself a few minutes later, she sobbed, “These tears are burning my face.  They really burn!”  I suggested she examine the past life memory behind her tears.  She was being burned at the stake for practicing witchcraft—or more precisely stated, for dispensing herbal remedies.

Coming out of the pain of the memory, Sophia suddenly changed direction, and related her experience from the week before.  After having told a friend of her latest trials and tribulations, the friend asked Sophia if there was an entity living in her body.  In other words, was she possessed?  Sophia had long felt her home was haunted, and that someone (a ghost) had not wanted her husband and her to move in.  She believed it was a prior owner, an old woman, and added that the granddaughter of that woman lived next door. 

The conversation next moved to the friend's concern that Sophia might be possessed by this old woman. Consequently, her friend offered Sophia a healing session.  During the course of the session, they made contact with the old woman.  The friend urged the old woman to leave Sophia’s body and go into the light. But after the session neither Sophia nor her friend were sure if the “entity” had departed. 

The way Sophia’s friend addressed the situation was standard within the confines of the new age movement.  Entities in a host body are generally summoned and then sent on their way “into the light”, disappearing from sight, and supposedly all participants benefit—much less confrontational than the conventional exorcism.

When I asked Sophia to ask herself if the old woman was gone, she responded, “I don’t think so.”  And when I asked her to ask herself if the woman wanted to converse with her, Sophia replied, “I think so.”   As Sophia moved-- without instruction or fear--into her own greater awareness, the space necessary for Sophia and her “possessor” to communicate was reached in a brief moment.

Prior to moving into expanded awareness, Sophia had quietly stated that she had asked her husband the name of the old woman the day before, but he didn’t know.  She also related that the old woman seemed to hang around their bedroom, and that over time Sophia had grown so accustomed to her presence that she gave her no thought.

Knowing that there was a certain deep connection waiting to occur, I suggested that Sophia ask the old woman her name. “Dorothy”, she responded confidently.

Next, Sophia took a moment to try on the thought that perhaps Dorothy wasn’t possessing her, but rather she was attempting to make herself known. It fit.

Sophia also answered her own question of whether Dorothy had actually been possessing her or just so close that it felt as if she were.  “Dorothy was very close,” she declared.

After a stretch of silence that allowed Sophia to shift further into greater awareness, I brought to her attention the fact that Dorothy desired to talk to her.

After still another stretch of silence, Sophia reported “I was asking her how she was doing.  She was telling me something about her granddaughter, like she wants me to tell her granddaughter that she loves her.  I'm asking her how I do that?” 

Having been challenged with panic attacks and a general fear of conversing with most everyone, Sophia belabored Dorothy’s request.  To speak in this manner to the granddaughter terrified Sophia, even though she had lately been facing her fears head-on. Sophia had declared earlier in our conversation that there were things she had to begin doing to create a brand new world for herself—it was a do or die. Dorothy’s request was a perfect set-up. Sophia recognized that Dorothy was asking her to be the vehicle—the bridge between worlds—to make contact with her granddaughter.  To be the cell phone tower.

When asked to step back in time and see where she and Dorothy had known each other before, Sophia immediately responded, “I see her talking to me.  She was one of my guides...and she still is.  I see her as an old lady who opens her house to anyone who needs shelter, and she bakes lots of cookies. She always had cookies for people.  She took me into her house, and other children, and was like a grandmother to all of us who were left behind by our families.  We were like foster children.  And I see now that I’ve known for some time that she’s been wanting to connect with me, but I’ve been too afraid.”

Even more quiet, Sophia announced, “Because of all the stories I believed about ghosts and stuff like that.  This is like a new world.  Of seeing more than just the physical".

I tested her, “This is your world, Sophia.  Isn't it?” 

“Ya, that's one of the reasons why I...like I don't know how to live out there yet”.  Sophia began to cry as she moved further out in the space where only oneness exists.  Her voice came with soft intensity, “And it's so painful, nothing in my present world works anymore...nothing makes sense.  Nothing!  In this other world out there, nothing is a big deal.  Nothing!  It’s just all so easy out here.”

 “So, there is this other world calling to you?” I nudged.  "But thoughts of going to this more reliable world bring up memories of being viewed as crazy...of being burned as a witch. Now, you have to travel through (dissolve) your hellish past to get to your world, to get back home again? There is a necessity showing up to go home, isn’t there?”

I queried Sophia where Dorothy fit into her witch-burning memory.  Sophia articulated with grave appreciation, “Dorothy was waiting for me on the other side.  She supported me as I left embodiment.  Dorothy was and is still a guide.  Dorothy is supporting my transition this time also, only this time, I’m making the transition without exiting my body.”

Sophia’s final words were, “This is really, really intense!!  And it feels crazy at the same time, because I don't know how I'm going to do this, Ia.  How it's going to happen?  How am I going to live in that world and still be in this one?”

I reminded her that it was already happening. The fact that she could so readily converse with the unseen ones (ghosts), or with those on the other side, was singular proof that she was in the transition.  In the witch-burning memory, Sophia was burned for bringing information from the other side, from her far away world.  Now, she had to dissolve the memory of that burning to return to her own innate power.  I’d been telling Sophia for many years that she is the bridge—the bridge between worlds.  Now she could see that I wasn’t just meaning between the Hispanic community and the larger community.  It was about the earthly community and the Greater Community.  Sophia’s capacity to “listen” and translate was innate.  It was her gift to the world.  It must be shared…or else it is lost.  She is a natural-born translator.

It is not abnormal or paranormal to communicate with those who are dis-embodied.  Nor is it difficult.  It’s not a feat left to psychics. It’s not a “gift.”  In truth, we are all psychics.  Sophia, in the process of healing, was coming in contact with her greater self, and along with that, her “greater” capacity.

The veil between worlds is dissolving as more and more non-bodied beings are attempting to communicate with us here in the human realm.  In fact, there is a desperateness to communicate, a desperateness to support.  More and more are leaving embodiment at this time in history.  Take heart, many who are leaving now are doing so to live a greater purpose from the “other side”.

Like Sophia in the throes of an ego death, we have to die to our attachments, beliefs, and limitations to live a greater purpose, even as we remain embodied.

In review, the issue was not Dorothy possessing Sophia.  Rather it was a matter of how Sophia was possessed by her own misperceptions.  Ideas, dogma, beliefs, et cetera all work to keep us limited in understanding the "real world."  In getting in touch with her own inner knowing, Sophia freed herself to experience the world of "Greater Community."

Lindsey had worked for many years breaking free of limitations, bit by bit.  Only recently her life had been hit by an unexpected hurricane… blowing what was left of old emotions, and obsolete thoughts and beliefs in all directions.    She’d spent the previous few months sifting through the debris, salvaging what had value, discarding the rest.  From a greater perspective, however, her personal storm had blown her into a whole new realm of consciousness. 

 Now, the moment had dawned for Lindsey to see her “real self” manifested.  I prompted her to revisit a specific past life that she had unearthed the week before.   In that lifetime, she had died resistant to living her “real self,” angry with having to be embodied at all and feeling like a failure.   She knew her present situation was the chance to create a new story ending.  It was time to just get on with her purpose.  A deep inner drive to stand in her own power and bring the best of herself to the world was overriding her resistance.  “But what is my purpose?” she begged for the umpteenth time.

I questioned myself. What tool, what information could I bring forth to aid Lindsey in answering her own question?  She needed a story—a parable—to gain understanding.   Much to my surprise, a fictional piece for adolescents came to mind.  

A wealthy couple put their young son on a ship delivering him to relatives for holiday.  The ship sank on the way and only the boy and an elderly black man survived…being washed ashore on a small, uninhabited island.  Having lived a privileged life, the boy was helpless.   This was not the case for the elder.

It was an odd relationship, boy only willing to see his elder as a servant while the elder was only willing to help the boy become self-sufficient.   Stuck together in such a fashion, the two gradually began to form a deep bond.   Days drifted by.  Storms came and went.  The search for food was a constant exercise.

 One day, the elder began to read the sky— a formidable storm was approaching.  In fact, the perfect storm!  He gathered the boy and hastened to prepare.   Taking the final step, the old man secured the boy and then himself to the strongest palm. 

After the hurricane had passed, the boy rose from his crouched position on the leeward side of the tree.  This was not the case for the elder.   Grief-stricken, the boy gathered himself together and focused on getting down to practical matters.  The elder had taught him well.  Days later, a ship anchored off-shore.  The boy who had survived the shipwreck was not the boy returning home. 

Accustomed to my stories, Lindsey charged deep in pursuit of the message…the tool…the gift.  “Am I the boy changed forever?  Am I the elder, wise and caring?”  She queried…and sorted…and sifted—as usual. 

Finally, I said, “’Yes!’  You are the boy who is the better off for having been shipwrecked.  And, ’Yes!’ you are the wise, patient and loving elder.   But more exactly, you are the tree.”  Her long silence revealed that she was connecting  to the deep truth of my announcement.  She was, in fact, embodying the energy of the tree. 

 “Yes, you are the tree.”  I continued.  “In fact, you are a spirit tree.  The tree that holds strong through the storm of storms—through the perfect storm.  You’ve recently survived your own hurricane.  You have emerged stronger than you can yet imagine.   You understand hurricane force winds.  You understand the winds of change.  You’ve just lived your own.

Deeper silence followed.  When Lindsey finally spoke, it was from a place of crystal clarity, “A spirit tree has deep roots… very deep.  At the same time, it is supple and resilient.  It bends in the wind, but it does not break.  It reaches to the heavens, while anchored deeply in the earth mother.”   Her spirit tree self—her “real self”— was coming alive…bringing forth the truth of her purpose and her place in the world.   In the process, her long-held resistance to being embodied was dissolving.   And her spirit guides were jubilant.

I went on to articulate, “The world needs as many spirit trees as possible right now as these winds of change upon planet Earth pick up speed.  You were not destroyed by your own hurricane.  You are alive and well, stronger than ever.  You know how to stand strong.   People will need strong trees to secure themselves to now.  Without a plethora of spirit trees, many will perish in the coming storm.  You know you are designed to provide refuge for others in stormy times.  You know that your profound strength and intuitive powers are coming alive.  This is your time.”

Lindsey wept deeply, realizing that her “real self” was emerging.  She wept out of gratitude.  She wept in acknowledgment that she was once-and-for-all anchoring deeply into the center of her own purpose—like a spirit tree.   While she wept, the heavens opened and spirit trees everywhere embraced her stance among them.

What is my purpose?  Why am I here?  These questions are becoming more and more common.   Lindsey has been asking these two questions for many years.  At the same time, she’s been chipping away at the layers of illusion that encrust her real self—the “God Self”.   Our God Self steps forth as  ego dies.   (Our linear mind is not capable of grasping this.)   To understand God Self is to understand purpose for they are one and the same.  Ultimately, we are the purpose we are seeking.

The conversation was coming to an end.  As is customary, Jack asked me to give him homework.  (Jack claims that homework allows him to stay grounded and focused…gives him something to chew on.) Without hesitation, I stated, “Shed six tears before we talk again.”  He laughed out loud, one of his deep hearty gut laughs.  Then came silence…deep, intense silence.   “Six tears, that’s two a day until we talk again, he blurted.   Another long silence.   “Or, it’s none tomorrow, four the next day and two the following day.”  Long silence.   “Or, six on the last day.”

Jack was the product of a classic toxic family.  His father had been an alcoholic and a rager, humiliation being the primary weapon he had used against his oldest child, Jack.  To manage such a nightmarish childhood, Jack had disconnected from the pain of it all.  He had gone numb.  He could not feel.  As Jack came of age, he relied on sex, drugs and alcohol, and other addictive behavior, to keep his pain at bay—to remain numb.  But the pain, worming around for 50 odd years, had taken a serious toll, and now was hitting hard on his physical body. 

 He had been chipping away at his childhood issues for some time, examining a host of traumatic incidents.  He was realizing how these incidents, stacked together, left him a man of many conflicting personalities.  The most significant challenge was that he remained unable to explore his pain from his pain, but only from the safety of his intellect, coldly and mechanically, not deeply and effectively.   

Somewhere, somehow, Jack was dogmatically certain that he had a greater purpose to live.  He was beginning to realize that he had no chance of living that greater purpose unless he opened his heart.   With a closed heart, he knew he was doomed to live nothing more than what he had lived to date…chaos and self-sabotage.  It was becoming clear that the only way to opening his heart was to “un-numb” himself, travel through the pain of reconnecting to himself.  It was cry or die.

 As is always the case, our childhood circumstances are determined by what issues we bring into embodiment with us.  Jack’s heart had been shut down for uncountable life times, creating patterns of limitation embedded right in his DNA.   One significant pattern says,  ”enduring embodiment is about cutting myself from my pain,” which ultimately is cutting himself from his own heart.  

The next level of awareness was for Jack to realize that he had come into embodiment with these patterns of limitation in operation and—like all of us, their defining his life was a guarantee.  In our next conversation, he begins to review his past lives for key memories where his heart had been severed.   He is just as proficient in exploring his greater past as he is his childhood, but the problem remains…he can’t “feel”.   He’s anesthetized himself.   

The first excavated memory flung the door to greater understanding wide open.   Jack had been an altar sacrifice, an infant given to the gods…heart cut out of him while alive.  He matter-of-factly spoke of the moment he jumped free of his body, escaping the trauma of the sharp stone knife ripping into his tiny body ceremoniously placed on a cold stone altar.

Next came the memory where he had been left at an orphanage on the day of birth, put in a crib and forgotten.  He saw himself, day after day, crying his heart out for attention.  Other than basic needs, none came.   To “survive”, he shut down, shut himself away from his pain.  He disassociated again. 

A slew of further life times with the same dynamics followed, enough that he could clearly see the pattern of limitation.  He was programmed to avoid pain, to distance himself from his emotional body with the greatest of will possible.   He was “heart-less.” 

Another exploration had taken him to a memory where he had been part of a gang of ruthless marauders, invading a country, village by village, pillaging, raping, destroying for the sake of destroying.  He had died heart-less—no shame, no remorse, no regret.   Two major aspects of this memory infiltrated his present embodiment.  He could be cutting, cruel and heartless, especially to women.  His arrogance and pompousness masked his deeper sense of humiliation, remorse and worthlessness; he didn’t deserve to have a heart.  Now, Jack was beginning to recognize that investing in the wounded child kept the heartless killer subdued, buried so deep he would never have to deal with him…at least not directly.  This was a Catch-22. 

The only way to freedom, the only way home to his heart was through his pain, through reconnecting to his emotional body.   It was a critical moment…shed six tears.    Like priming a pump, six tears would be ample enough to create an unstoppable flow.   But shedding six tears was a fate worse than death for the egoic self— the self who hangs onto heartlessness (self-imposed limitation) for dear life. 

Jack knew he could not leave his chaotic, self-destructive life until he reconnected to his heart.  He would never be able to know where he stood, never be able to stand in his own knowing. There would be no way for him to live from his heart until he embraced his pain.  Could he do it?  Certainly!  Would he do it?  Yes, for he was dead-serious and totally committed to living from his heart.   And…it was his time.  It was his time to shed the limitations of the physical and stand strong as a pillar of light during these changing times.   What this man was facing was his own death, death of the ego self. 

We talked again.  Jack had shed four of the six tears of his assignment, and that had been with Herculean effort.   He was certain the dam was ready to burst, but was clueless how to move forward.  His frustration was palpable.  The path to awareness typically follows a predictable pattern and requires intuition, using the brilliant mind as a tool for research.   First, present circumstances must be explored; what are the seeming issues at hand.  Then attention must be turned to the childhood, taking the pieces of understanding, like a puzzle, and begin arranging the pieces to obtain a larger, clearer picture of the issues.  The next step is to bring out the earth moving equipment, digging deep, hauling to light core issues born in other times and places.   This is where you get down and dirty--muck around in your greater past and bring up pertinent life times, looking, always looking for patterns of limitation.  This is where the detective comes alive.   This was the stage of the journey Jack was now on.

The subsequent step in excavation is a matter of beginning to look for the “buried treasure”—the heart of the true self.   (The core truth of who we are is buried the most deeply.)   This is the most profound of explorations…like digging to China.  At these depths, Jack found life times where he had lived from his heart, where he had stood in his own knowing, living heart-centered and expansive.   The deeper he dug, the greater the awareness, like bubbles wafting to the surface of water.   Here were lifetimes where he HAD lived from his heart…from his knowing, where intuition had been his guiding force, where he had lived as a pillar of strength and light in his community.   A reliable reference had been unearthed.   Although he could see what it was like to be a man living from his heart, he still couldn’t feel that, however, for he still had to shed those tears. 

A few nights ago, I read SIX TEARS to Jack.  His story!!!  He informed me that tears were welling up, not quite free to flow, but welling up all the same.  Birthing himself could not be rushed.  When the time was right, the tears would come forth like embryonic fluid signaling a birth at hand.  Jack would make it.   As Jack grew stronger in his truth, ego—the protector of limitation— was losing its hold on him. 

The ego must die for an authentic self to be born.  Authentic selves—pillars of light— are most needed now as the winds of change blow through…ever more strongly.   

It’s true for all of us…to return to our heart, heart of our own brilliant mind, to return to “love”, we must dig deep into our own disconnection, delve down through the layers of illusion, starting from our present embodiment, following the thread of separation back to the heart of our own awareness.  (The influence of our past lives over our present embodiment is always complex to say the least.) When we do we will be free…free to bring the best of ourselves to the world.  The time is now to return ourselves to a state of consciousness.  There is no time to delay. 

The phone rang last night.  I could tell by the energy of the ring that it was Jack.  Without a greeting, he announced matter-of-factly that he had just shed 20 tears, then he broke down (broke open) sobbing.  Sobbing! Sobbing!  He was in touch with his pain—shame, worthlessness, self-loathing, pompousness, sadness, loneliness, failure…all were being washed away.  Shortly, he collected himself, gushed out a few words of pure gratitude, and then broke down again.  The floodgates were open, the damn was being drained.  Between bouts of sobbing, he spoke from his heart, spoke with grace and dignity and knowing.  At one point he announced with grave certainty, “There’s a crack in my ego, Ia, where who I am is breaking through.”  

The joy, the heavenly joy surrounding this moment was electric.  Right there, Jack was dying…and in the process he was being born.  He was witnessing his own death and birth simultaneously.  The heavens opened up and the joy of his spirit guides was palpable.   It was a God moment. 

Jack knew he had much more work ahead of him.  He also knew he had the tools to continue on his journey—his heart and his intuition were the master tools.  He would continue to gather pieces to his own life puzzle, gaining more and more clarity as he fit them together.  Nothing could or would stop him.  He was on the road to freedom, on the Heart-Road Home.

A man was complaining to me recently about his roommate waking him early in the morning.  He’s a night person, his roommate a morning person.   I listened to his story. 

Afterward, I plied a few questions:  Didn’t you recently move your bedroom from one room to a room adjacent to the living room?  Weren’t you complaining all last month about how your landlady’s activities wake you up?  Your roommate is waking you up? (personal)  Or his activities are waking you up?  (impersonal)  He’s doing this to you.  (personal)  Or he’s doing this, period?  (impersonal)  What’s actually waking you up?  Is it really your roommate?   Or…is it your own irritation?   Is your irritation just looking to be fed and using your roommate as a sacrifice?  What’s the real issue here?

He wiggled this way and that for a moment, not liking this much food for thought.   He blustered.  He deflected.  He argued.   He defended. 

I asked him to imagine that the next morning he would wake up late.  He would wake up “naturally.”  Where were those irritating roommate sounds?  He would get out of bed curious and confused.  He’d walk to the living room.  No roommate.  He’d check the kitchen.   No roommate.  His concern born, he’d head for his roommate’s bedroom.  There he’d find his roommate dead in his bed.  

Now he could be alright!   Gone was the roommate.  Gone was the irritation.  Done!  Over!  He didn’t have to be irritated anymore. 

The scenario hit home—hit hard enough to bring tears.  He finally realized just how petty he was being, how he was making something personal out of nothing for the mere reason that his irritation—his discontent—needed to be fed.   He recognized that he would miss those tell-tale sounds of a new day dawning that his roommate so faithfully brought forth each morning.   

How many of us relate to life through irritation, frustration, discontent, pettiness—using situations and circumstances to feed our emotional/ego bodies?  And what’s the value?   When we are alright with ourselves then we are alright, period.  Life is critically easier when we are alright with ourselves.   Our “alright” selves feed on nothing other than “all-rightness.”  The world is fine because they are fine.

If ever there was a time to be alright with ourselves, the time is now.    There is no time to project our issues onto the world, to keep feeding our egoic selves.  There is no time for pettiness.  The world is changing in ways that will be/are testing our mettle.  We have a better chance of passing the test, if we can be at peace with ourselves; if we can desist from projecting our issues outward; if we can live from our “alright” selves. 

When you find yourself falling into irritation and such, stop yourself, be honest, own the truth of your discontent...self-assess, self-correct.  Face yourself head-on so that you can begin to self-perfect.  Replace the “you” in your thoughts with “I.”  I (not you) am my problem.   Doing so can make a critical difference in your life…and in the world.   An important something we can bring to the world is our “alright” self.   Within our “alright” self peace abounds.  

Kin, ia

She said that she had begun to grind her teeth 24/7 and that she was planning on seeing a specialist...and...and...  I heard her say, "I'm hanging on by the skin of my teeth."  I pointed out that she might want to examine the issue from her greater awareness to reveal the underlying cause.  Almost flippantly, she said that she knew what it was; She had been thrown out a window in a prior embodiment and had to hang on for dear life.  The woman had recently been focused on major self-healing, which made her life about change—whether or not she was egoically ready, which is always the case.  The ego was using that memory (ego is always using the past to somehow maintain immobilization) to keep the woman hanging on the edge, terrified of letting go, certain that she would be heading in only one direction if she did.  I understood that, in fact, the woman was ready to fly, that she was way ready to step into a new phase of her life, but up against the ego, which was hanging onto her old ways "by the skin of its teeth".  Herein lays the classic struggle.

Of late, I see so much of this life-pushing-us-forward "syndrome," while the ego holds on with amazing resistance.  Another woman was suddenly forced to deal with the fact that her husband was seeing another woman.  This is not good or bad.  It's simply circumstances.  But the woman was "hanging on for dear life" to a situation that was already finished.  While she cried, raged and clung, her husband’s activities were actually her gift.  His choices left her having to address her life at a deep level.  It was clear that it was her time to awaken.  On the other hand, it was clear that, particularly at this advanced stage in the awakening process, the ego would try to exit.  Yes, without question her death wish was palpable.  There was no talking to her about her death wish--for many reasons. As called to do, I took a position of holding a space for her while she went through her "dark night". 

Weeks passed.  Every day I could energetically "feel" her waffling—to stay or to go?  I could see that the body was trying to starve itself to death.  (Isn’t it odd to think that we choose death in order to avoid living?)  It was truly her dark night.  There was no wrong or right in her choosing to stay or leave. 

Last week, she emailed me asking if I could help, that she was not okay.  I responded, saying that she was okay and that I could not help her.  But I could help her help herself if she raise herself out of her emotional body and make a whole-hearted commitment to her healing and growth.  In essence she had to grow up… and make a clear choice whether she was going to remain embodied or exit.  This is a brilliant being, I must say, but a brilliant being with a stubborn and powerful ego—like all of us. 

Ultimately, like the first woman mentioned, she knew that she was here to serve a greater purpose, that she was here to bring something to humanity during these changing times...bring something that is very much needed.  First, she has to "reconnect" to that which she was called to bring. 

I mention two individuals here.  I could mention a host of individuals who are at that critical point, that point of saying, "I'm here for a purpose.  It's my time.  I surrender my games, struggles, suffering, my earthly entrapments and am ready to be used for a greater purpose. 

Tonight, another woman, in the process of exploring from her greater reality, from an outer world, saw that living from the flow rather than from fast-forward was the next step in her personal evolution.  It was essential that she slow down the body.  She claimed she had no idea how to do this.  To slow down, she had to explore just exactly what kept her in fast-forward.  One more time, she visited her childhood to obtain the understanding.   Coming from a dysfunctional family, her fast-forward behavior (obsessive compulsive as she saw) was a means to survive her childhood.  Now, the ego was still using fast-forward to keep her "alive."   Alive being a survival perspective.  She had to let go.  She, too, was hanging on by the skin of her teeth.  She, too, thought she would die if she let go (slowed down in this case).  But it was the holding on that was killing her.  Letting go is death to the ego.  Hanging on is death to the spirit.  

Look around.  You will see someone or another or yourself—many—hanging on by the skin of their teeth.  Our lives as we live them are no longer sustainable.  Without necessary preparation, the winds of change will flatten us.  Like these people mentioned, if it's time to let go, it’s time to let go.  What we don’t know, can’t know, until we let go, is that we will fly and we will have the necessary winds beneath our wings.  In fact, the woman whose husband gifted her so perfectly, claimed when I asked her to tune into her guides, that she was afraid to state how many were there…maybe thousands.  Our guides—our heavenly support system—does not care about our suffering, our fear of letting go of control. They don’t see egos as real.  Winds of change can be a wondrous phenomena when we have the winds of guidance beneath our wings. 

Don't hesitate, for your sake and for humanity's.  Heal!  Let go!  No hanging on by the skin of the teeth.  Time to fly into a new realm of consciousness.  No one who does will "live" to regret it. 

What are you hanging onto by the skin of your teeth?

An old weathered birdbath, once my mother’s, is the central focus of my flower garden.  Not only birds, but chipmunks, squirrels and mice come regularly to quench their thirst or soak on a hot summer day.  Most visitors are fascinated by the flurry of activity created by one strategically placed birdbath. 

For weeks, I’ve been particularly aware of bird activity, watching these avian creatures prepare for impending cold weather...tuning into their migratory instincts coming alive.  Despite the unseasonably warm autumn weather, our robins and bluebirds have departed, and migrants from further north have temporarily taken their place. Many resident species are now flocking.  

I wonder.  I marvel at just how well birds read life—read their environment; just how fine-tuned they are; how carefully adapted; how they know when it’s time to change eating habits, move out, stop in mid-passage for a rest, and then move on.  Birds are remarkable teachers.  

Birds are naturally in tune and minutely responsive to changes all around them.   My question is: Why aren’t we?  

All of humanity is heading for a winter, the likes of which we have not seen before, or at least not in recent history.  Like birds, if we are tuned in, we will be aware of this storm about to engulf our reality. Like birds, we must use our inner barometer to realize that the pressure is plummeting—the storm is nigh upon us.

Like birds, it’s time to fine-tune, to read life. It’s time for binocular vision—one eye here and one “out there”—avian eyes.  This allows us to use our greater guidance to put matters in order. It’s time to look inside and find where our strengths lie, and to bring those strengths to life. It’s time to search our hearts, to prepare ourselves from the inside out.  It’s time to step into our inner closet, to assess what thoughts and beliefs need to come off the hangers and into the recycling box. It’s time to undress our fears and examine them with naked scrutiny.  It’s time to acknowledge what is important to us, truly important, and let the rest go.   It’s time to know where we stand, and what we want to stand for. 

A wondrous storm is at hand, bringing with it great change—new beginnings.  Endless possibilities await…especially for those who have prepared.

Like birds of a feather, it’s time to flock together--and begin to use our avian eyes. 

I have been receiving feedback in regard to my recent blog “Miss Josey” by email, phone, Facebook and blog response.  All responders have been touched in the heart by the story--so they think.  What has really touched them is Miss Josey herself.  She’s been strongly present since my first receiving the directive to write a blog about her.  And as she revealed recently, her energy is deeply connected to Grandmother energy. 

I was in a phone session with a woman last evening.   For days she had been in the throes of a huge quantum shift.  Wound tightly and hardly able to breath, it was clear she was ready to fully face her abandonment issues.  She started the conversation by talking about Miss Josey and how her energy had been close even prior to reading the blog.  I informed her that Miss Josey, indeed, along with Grandmother energy was swirling around her and suggested she go into “outer space” and investigate, that “they” were wanting to take her on a journey. 

Almost immediately the woman was overcome with tears, overcome by the experience.  Her words, “It’s just so beautiful—so open-hearted.  It’s all so open, such accepting energy.  Grandmother energy!  It’s ripping those doors to my heart wide open.  Wide, wide open.  Wow!!  Wow!!  Why is it so painful to have an open heart?  Well, it’s not painful, so what is this pain, Ia?”

With further exploration, she had her answer:   Once a heart is open, the magnitude of cosmic (God) energy coming in is beyond definition.   Although the heart can handle the energy, the body cannot.  The human nervous system is not designed to handle this frequency level.   Hence, the body experiences the situation as pain.  

She realized that being sexually abused as an infant, she had learned to “turn off” anything that was overwhelming—over-stimulating—to the body.  Her words, “Anything overwhelming, I’d just leave.”  (Leave her body.)  She lingered in her childhood until she had obtained the necessary understanding.  The intensity of energy coming into her heart increased. 

I related to her that she will come to the point where it would be difficult to live without the incoming energy, even though the body gets fried when it comes.  And, that in her own time, and with time, she will no longer feel “pain”, only the expansiveness of the phenomena called an open heart (topic for another blog.) 

With an open heart, the woman continued on to embrace further healing and insight.   As she completed her journey, she returned with tools to continue to make positive changes in her life.  She knew Miss Josey would be close.  All the grandmothers would be a guiding force.  She understood that her readiness to face life head-on and self-reliantly had left her connecting to the support necessary to maintain an open heart…Miss Josey stuff.  “Praise de Lord.”

I met Miss Josey Friedman while doing a 2 year Peace Corps stint somewhere back there in my past.  Miss Josey was a community elder and deeply respected.   Her village, one of many dotting the island, straddled a steep volcanic slope high in the mountains, lush with mango trees, bamboo groves and one rain-rutted ribbon road running through. 

To me, Miss Josey lived closer to God than anyone I could imagine.  I knew this for certain when one day a man asked her what she wanted for Christmas.  She looked at him sharply, as if trying to comprehend his question and then responded simply and respectfully, “Me no ass de Lord for what no has and me gratsful for wha me does.”  Translated: I don’t ask the Lord for what I don’t have and I’m grateful for what I do have.

This dear teacher of mine was somewhere in her late eighties when our paths crossed.  She was nigh toothless, slightly stout but wiry at the same time.   For years, she had carried around a goiter close to the size of her head.  Her response when an outsider once had offered to help her get medical assistance to have it removed was, “De Lord gib me me bump.  Me keep me bump.”   She kept a tattered scarf expertly wrapped around both her head and her goiter.   Year by year, the weight of the goiter had pulled her back out of alignment and caused her to walk lopsided.  She never complained about her pain.

She lived in what was once a two-room dwelling; the smaller room down-slope had surrendered to the forces of gravity years earlier, lying in a tumbled pile of rotted boards.    The remaining room sat precariously upon a few boulders, a foot or so off the ground, and contained a couple odd sticks of furniture and a few kitchen items.  She had no screens or glass on her windows, only rotting shutters, closed at night with the hope of keeping out the dampness.   She had no electricity.  No plumbing.  No social security.   She walked a distance down the hill to a public spigot, carrying buckets of water back to her house, washed her meager laundry in the buckets she carried and hung the items on bushes to dry.  She kept her best dress for church, walking the mile or so, to and fro, bible in hand.  She cooked with locally-made charcoal arranged in the center of a rusty tire hub outside her front door.  Her diet was mostly beans and rice and pumpkin, mangos and avocado pears when in season, and an occasional vegetable from a neighbor’s garden. 

She had no need for a telephone.  To talk to her one son who lived in England, all she had to do was give a message to a neighbor who, when talking to a relative in England, would mention that Miss Josey was looking to get a message to her son.  Then shortly, the reverse path in operation, she would have a response.  As Miss Josey saw it, life provided. 

Once returning from a ferry trip from the sister island, I sat next to a couple of Boston lawyers.  With locals sitting all around, they spoke loudly to me about the squalor they had seen during their taxi ride from the airport to the ferry dock.  I bit my tongue—severely, as I thought of that shining God spirit, Miss Josey and her simple life.  Clearly, they were blind.

When my Peace Corps stint ended, I passed out most of my possessions, taking my pillows, sheets and blanket to Miss Josey.   She stood in her entryway, paintless door hanging lopsided, items in hand, repeating “praise de Lord,” eyes held skyward, heart wide open.  I walked away reminding myself not to be smug, nor think that I was particularly generous.  After all, Miss Josey had given me more than I could ever possibly imagine giving to her.  

As I pondered the significance of why Miss Josey was being brought to my awareness after such a long time, I heard that her story needed to be shared, that if there were a time when understanding abundance and living from gratitude were essential, that time is NOW.   A simple means to realize our abundance would be to make a list of all that we have and then compare it to what Miss Josey had.  

It’s time for us all to count our blessings—count them every hour of every day.  To be in the mindset of lack is unserving, even dangerous as we come face to face with the winds of change upon us.   Thank God (Buddha, Great Spirit, Universe) for everything…EVERYTHING you have.  To acknowledge and live from a place of gratitude and abundance indicates that you are living from greater awareness, from an open heart.  The world needs all the open hearts possible at this time.   Living right here right now, as Miss Josey did so well—living in and from God’s world.

Jane had had an interesting childhood, if for no other reason than her mother was a rager and habitually took her rage out on her children, Jane in particular.  It had become ingrained in Jane’s psyche that she had been a “difficult” child and hence had deserved the beatings she had received.  As is often the case, she became an out-of-control teenager and drove directly into a guaranteed tough adulthood.  

In prior sessions, Jane had examined and released the ingrained belief that she had been a difficult child.  Instead, she realized that, rather than being a difficult child, she had been born into a difficult childhood, that she wasn’t bad, and had never been bad. Her mother’s label was merely the license her mother needed to get away with abusing her.  Relief had welled from Jane as she tearfully repeated, “I’m not a bad person! I’ve never been a bad person!  I’m a good person!”

In a following session, Jane examined her childhood situation historically, how she had been a slave, her mother the slave master.  In the memory, Jane had been the “difficult” slave and the slave master was left to systematically beat her, not to keep just her in line, but also the other slaves (siblings).  As a slave, she took the beatings but made sure her spirit was untouched.  Based on the memory, the mother (master) was still trying to break the slave’s (daughter’s) spirit.   Jane quickly examined her entire life, seeing how she had continued to attract slave masters, in one form or another: her ex-husband, boss, boyfriend.  (Jane is inspirational in that with each and every discovery she can so immediately lift herself into such joy and in such an innocent way.)

In Jane’s latest session, she looked at further past lives that fed into the dynamics of her relationship with various members of her family, and again her mother in particular.  At the end, she vehemently voiced how evil her mother was.  I suggested that she might want to replace the word evil with a different word.  She spat out “bad”.  I suggested she try using the word “misguided”—her mother had been, not evil or bad, but misguided, caught up in shared history as much as she.  Jane tried on the new thought.  A heavy weight was instantly lifted, the deep rift between her mother and her dissolving.  She hopped from one bit of understanding to the next to the next.  There was no stopping her.  Yes, it’s understanding that sets us free, never judgment.   If Jane had hung onto the belief that her mother was evil, she would have doomed both her mother and herself to keep re-embodying into the same conflicted relationship.

Once again, Jane ended the conversation ready to put her tools of understanding to use.   Her awakening process is occurring exceedingly fast.  She is fully aware that she is here to serve a greater purpose during these changing times.  As she articulates at the completion of each session, “I know I’m here to be a pillar of light.  I know I’m here to help people.”  It’s not that she’s ready to light up the world…she is lighting up the world and doing so through bringing light to herself.