My LoveDance

8. SPIRIT ON A HUMAN JOURNEY

This life is not a spiritual journey. This is a human journey. My spirit chose this form to know itself as divine. But in answer to my friend’s question, it seems I began calling it a spiritual journey in 1997 when I opened my private health care practice. Full Circle Family Health. The physical manifestation of a dream.

I have dreamt every significant thing in my life. My beloved husband. My enlightened children. All my creations. Then perceiving the music, the vibration, the energy, I dance my dreams into reality. And as a holistic family nurse practitioner, I dance healing with my patients.

After nine years of gathering health care experience as an employee, I prayed to be shown a way to fulfill my soul purpose. I had a dream…to start my own holistic health care practice. I dreamt of my patients walking down a garden path into a healing home, where I had the space to practice truly integrated medicine and enough time to spend with my precious family, animals, and garden—dancing my dream.

Soon after Full Circle Family Health became a reality, the universe sent me the most challenging patients. Out of necessity and a great desire to know more, I became an expert in neuro-immune-endocrinology, a specialty which focuses on the bio-chemical communication network of the human body. It’s always about proper communication, isn’t it?

Well, I opened myself to receive whatever the universe might offer. The sickest most Hormonally Challenged patients came from all over California for my care. As my expertise grew, patients came from across the United States and then from Europe and South America. Word of mouth referrals kept me very busy.

Then I began getting referrals from energy healers. One in particular referred her clients for hormonal support. I was happy to comply. And very curious. This energy healer sent her clients to me with such precise descriptions of what was energetically going on in their bodies that I was able to scientifically assess and diagnose their dis-eases. Her clients got better—physically and energetically—and soon she became my patient.

Annette was very open to everything I could teach her about her body. She was going through menopause and needed hormonal support. I wanted to learn about her work. So we bartered.

My first session with Annette found me sitting across from her in a lotus position, eyes closed, hands resting in the “ok” position on my knees. She began to laugh. “You don’t remember who you are.”

“What do you mean? Am I not doing it right?”

“This is not your way. Go run with that black dog of yours.” How did she know about Ida? “And when she stops, follow her lead and sit down with her. See what comes.”

So I did. I was an avid runner and enjoyed racing across the trails with my dog. I rarely stopped to smell the roses let alone sit down. But I followed Annette’s advice. When Ida jumped up onto a huge boulder and sat down to look at me, I climbed up to sit by her, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and…a purple tear dropped into my mind’s eye, filled my head, spilled into every aspect of my being…and the answer to a problem came very clearly to me. Wow!

Soon I was meditating in my way. While I ran with my dog, rode my horse, danced in the garden…always the purple tear drop came and with it answers. I began to remember who I am.

Excerpt from My LoveDance

 

7. BY ANY OTHER NAME…

I was born Deborah Lee Perry. An unusual name for an Italian-American girl. Most of the first born girls in my mother’s family were name Marie, but my mother, Maria, insisted that I be named Deborah. She remembered getting a lot of flack for wanting to christen her daughter with a Jewish name. My father remembers that it was the closest female name to his given name. Although my mother always called me Deborah, I quickly got nicknamed, Debbie.

So I entered Honby elementary school as Debbie Perry. That’s when I met my first friend.

We met in second grade. She was the youngest of four girls; I was the oldest. Her sisters were all grown up; mine were just starting school. We lived in two different neighborhoods separated by a four lane highway. We had little in common, but seven year olds don’t care. We both loved our teacher, Mrs Groves, who smelled like oranges and liked to take naps under the art table while we were at recess. We both loved books. What a great day it was when she got her first pair of glasses and we got to be in the same reading group.

After reconnecting, we reminisced over lunch. She laughed remembering me wagging my finger at the class bully at recess. I had researched the word that he used so cruelly and taught him and the rest of the kids who gathered around us the true meaning of the F-word. I got called into the principle’s office. Since I had never been in trouble before I was scared but argued my point until Mom arrived. The principle asked what she had been teaching me. The truth, Mom said. Even the principle was not aware of the naval origin of the word.

With her sisters out of the house, my friend was treated like an only child. I, on the other hand, had to share everything with my three little sisters. She had cool lunches—a Wonder bread sandwich, a miniature bag of Fritos and a shiny silver wrapped DingDong. While I had leftovers on wheat bread, chips in a baggy and a piece of fruit. She had her own bedroom with pretty curtains that matched her bedspread and lots of toys. I shared a bunk bed with my little sister, the twins in matching bunks in the same room until my aunt and my two cousins moved out.

Although we had precious little time to catch up, I bared my soul to my oldest friend.
Starting kindergarten worried me. Who would watch after my sisters while I was gone? The white light! I remembered that I called the white light around me whenever I felt lost, worried or frightened and was instantly protected. Sometimes the white light was so bright that I felt invisible, no one seemed to notice me. I would surround my sisters with the white light of protection. They would be perfectly safe until I returned from school.

She remarked that I always seemed more mature than the rest of our class. Perhaps that was being the eldest child. Perhaps it’s just being an old soul.

From the moment we reconnected, she called me Deborah…not Debbie as everyone else from my past still does. I asked her why. She said that I am no longer little Debbie…She perceived my transformation. Perhaps someday, my family of origin will too.

She wrote afterwards: “I didn’t realize how much I was missing you in my life. We’ve both grown tremendously in our years apart and have so much to share. I think about some of the things you shared with me, and it makes me sad that I didn’t know your burdens and wasn’t more supportive. How well did we really know each other? All I knew was you were my friend and I loved you”

And I responded: “Please do not worry about the past. I did not even remember much of my childhood drama until after I gave birth. I do remember how much I loved you! It did not matter that we didn’t know each other intimately, we knew each other’s souls…and that was enough to become best friends. Love you still!”

Friends are gifts. Love them as much as you can.

Excerpt from My LoveDance. Get your copy Now!  

6. NAKED BARBIE ON A BRYER HORSE

MY LOVEDANCE -EBOOK IS FREE ON AMAZON FROM DECEMBER 8-13, 2016

When I was a little girl my sisters and I played Barbies. Each birthday or Christmas, we would ask for a Barbie implement to share—the Malibu beach condo, the cool Barbie camper, a huge Barbie house complete with skididdle kiddles for babies and my absolute favorite—Bryer Horses! Well, the youngest took over the condo and the Malibu Ken, one twin claimed the camper while the other got the big house and the babies. I got the Horse. Since shoes didn’t stay on Barbie while astride her Arabian stallion and the youngest sister was a clothes hog, well, I played Naked Barbie on a Bryer Horse.

Are we always the same from childhood to adulthood? The patterns run strong in my family. The youngest married “Malibu Ken” and lives that life. The camper twin has traveled the world and never really settled down. The other twin lives in a big house with four daughters. I still ride the horse…

And I live naked…baring my soul as part of my healing work.

I had a vision. During a guided meditation in my women’s circle, I saw myself being born from the heart of the earth. A golden woman on a blood red horse with amethyst wings furled on her back. The embodiment of my Higher Self.

Now, I am no longer Naked Barbie on Bryer Horse. I have wings! Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon after a lifetime of binging like a caterpillar, I am transformed.

Excerpt from My LoveDance. Get your copy Now!

 

5. DANCING WITH MY SHADOW

MY LOVEDANCE -EBOOK IS FREE ON AMAZON FROM DECEMBER 8-13, 2016

On my son’s 26th birthday….I released my shadow self. No longer do I feel the obsessive urges, the anxiety that can only be quelled through binging and purging. It’s over. In the past I have been in recovery…during my two pregnancies and until my babies were weaned. Yet I struggled every day, became obsessive over every nutrient I consumed…not really free, only a temporary vacation from bulimia. And again when I wrote LoveDance. For exactly eight months I obsessively wrote—420,000 words—yet as soon as the muse left me, bulimia found me.

At my women’s retreat, I created a mask of my shadow self—Bulimic Deb—then danced with her before casting her into the flames…such a difficult thing to do. I mourned her death for weeks. I felt so profoundly afterwards. Every emotion I had not let myself feel—came in profound waves. Yet I was amazed at the underlying peace. I rode the waves of my emotions with a new found ease. I was at peace for the first time since I was 14. After 35 years on and off the bulimic wagon, I was free.

What does that mean? To be free of bulimia. Well, I no longer obsess about food. I feel hunger and then I eat and for the first time enjoy each bite. . I have my former trigger foods in my pantry. Not because I’m testing myself, but because I could not use all the chocolate chips I bought from Costco for my holiday baking. And I forget about them until the next time I feel like baking and am surprised to find a pound of chocolate chips…silent, no longer tempting me. Just me and chocolate happily co-existing. Not that I don’t crave dark chocolate every moon cycle and I do indulge, gratefully consuming each luscious piece feeling my serotonin raising with each bite.

I’ve always associated eating disorders with addictions. Such a horrible addiction because you cannot abstain from food, like you can from alcohol or drugs. And when I was bulimic, I had to abstain especially from my trigger foods. Over the past few years I desensitized myself by ritualizing my trigger foods. I started with dark chocolate. I ate it ceremoniously on fine china with a glass of red wine on a table set with lace under candle light while watching a feel good movie. All my senses were engaged in pleasure and from then on (that was in 2008) I have been able to consume dark chocolate in moderation without it triggering a binge. Not so milk chocolate…so that’s why forgetting about having chocolate chips in the house amazes me.

I do have one regret. When I cast my mask into the flames (and I was the last to do it…reluctant to let Bulimic Deb go) I felt the smoke was carried elsewhere. So two months later at Thanksgiving, I was not surprised to see one of my nieces bone thin and stuffing her face…the family curse, my sister calls it. An unresolved karmic imprint, I believe.

I do not feel guilt or shame related to food or my body. In fact I love my body. I am so grateful for this beautiful healthy body that has taught me my greatest lessons, protected me from my greatest fears, blessed me by being the most perfect vehicle for my transformation. After seven years in a cocoon of my making, I am emerging as a butterfly.

And I no longer feel like purging my emotions. Now I feel them, really sit within my heart to be with my emotions. And I have found a profound gratitude for my rich passionate emotions. So powerful they seem to control the weather. Or at least the climate of my relationships. And with this awareness, I have learned to ride the wave of my emotions…and let them go into the ocean of feeling that makes me human and connects me to all that is.

 

Excerpt from My LoveDance. Now available on Amazon.

4. SEVEN YEAR CYCLES

MY LOVEDANCE -EBOOK IS FREE ON AMAZON FROM DECEMBER 8-13, 2016

I am multi-sensory. We all are. Yet rarely admit it. Being clairsentient, clairvoyant, clairaudient is our nature, a soulful means of interpreting reality. When I was a little girl, I thought everyone felt the plants, heard the animals, saw the energies hovering over the earth and around people. I thought everyone had lucid dreams, knew the answers on tests, could tell what their parents were feeling in spite of their words. I still think we all have this capability. Yet most of us are taught that the world of the imaginal is just that…imagination. Not real.

I have a curious mind. My left brain is extremely active. I need to organize what I know. Bridge the gap between feeling and logic. I love numbers, math, patterns. There is a flow to life. Six months before my 50th birthday, I consulted with an astrologer who charted my life in 29 year lunar cycles. I was fascinated with the accuracy of interpretation. I was born under a tiny crescent moon on the Spring Equinox of 1961. My life has unfolded beautifully in seven year cycles…and it’s happening again.

In 2003, I birthed my nutraceutical Genesis Gold and my book LoveDance. Both have changed my life dramatically. A week before Genesis Gold was finally bottled my beloved old mare died, then a week after that, the man who helped me get my creation manufactured died. Death has preceded birth every single time…My life has unfolded in seven year cycles…like the phases of the moon…

September 26, 1969. I am eight years old. A great fire is raging in the dry hills behind our neighborhood. I am holding the ladder steady so my mother will not fall as she waters down our roof to prevent our house from catching fire. My sisters are watching television…the debut of The Brady Bunch…I really want to see it. Yet I am separated from the children. I am older than them…not just in age but my soul is older. All our neighbors are packing up their cars. They’re leaving. My mother is very worried. My father is not here. In that moment as my mother’s fear and anger pours down upon me like the smoke pouring down the hillside, I feel the weight of the world. The death of innocence…preceded the year before by the first death in my life. Our Easter bunny was killed by our Samoyed. Life is precious. You have to take care of the ones you love. I have spent the past seven years taking care of my parents and sisters. The next seven years, I learn how to depend solely on me.

Summer of 1975. I am fourteen. Walking with my sisters back to the pool. Poppop just bought us ice cream. Daddy is behind us talking to Pop. He calls up to me, “Debbie, your elbows are showing.” I know exactly what he means. It is our family code for “your bathing suit has crept up your butt”. Deftly I remedy the situation, yet this time I hear in his voice a different tone and I feel strange. Daddy sees me as a young woman. I look around me…three little sisters I am responsible for, a mother who feels diminished, a grandmother here on holiday but not here to support me through this time…she fears the blood as much as Momma, as much as every adult woman I know. I look at the ice cream dripping down my hand. This is the last ice cream I will ever eat. That moment I become anorexic. By the time I start high school, I’m twenty pounds lighter. My periods and breasts are gone. And I experience the second death…I find my mare’s aborted foal and take it to school so my biology teacher can display it in a giant pickle jar. Science intrigues me. For seven years, I devote my energy to being the top in my class…fully cognizant that I am preparing for a career in health care…to legitimize my “knowing”.

December, 1982. I am twenty-one. My beloved grandparents finally come to live in California. As soon as Poppop steps off the plane, I know he’s dying. I cannot save him. Three weeks later we bury him. Only six months before I graduate from UCLA nursing school, I vow to never lose another patient. This begins a long cycle of my savior complex. It is seven years from Poppop’s death before I see him in my dreams. Seven tough years of transition, loss, growth. Graduation, first job as an RN, getting married, moving away from home to begin a new life, birthing my son prematurely, getting my masters degree, birthing my daughter. Lots of birth followed Poppop’s death. The cycle of birth and death well set now. My eating disorder has transformed from anorexia to bulimia. Only purging relieves me of the great pain of never being enough.

Spring of 1990. I am working as a family nurse practitioner at an urgent care. I pick up a chart and start to enter an exam room, but the doctor I’m working with takes the chart and hands me another. An HMO patient she doesn’t want to see. Compensation is poor and her hands are tied within managed care. I don’t want to be party to what I predict will become a managed care fiasco so I get involved with my professional nurse practitioner association and begin courting a private doctor. I spend six years under his employment making great money, increasing my skills and confidence while learning to balance motherhood, partnership, and career. Spiritually…a time of discovery… outside of the dogma I learned in the church. Still bulimia rules my days, sleep walking rules my nights, I can never do enough, be enough…

The death that preceded that birth cycle…our German Shepherd pup died suddenly in the fall of 1989. My husband was so broken hearted…Jarys consoled him on the back patio—put his little arm around his sobbing father’s shoulders—told his father that souls are like rental videos that must be returned to God….that night Poppop comes to me in a dream…the first time since he died.

September 5, 1996. I am trying to resuscitate my daughter’s puppy. Her screams fill my senses. Kyra dreamt its death. I console her with trepidation. My own dreams are so real, I act them out nearly every night. I am a sleepwalker. So thoroughly immersed in the obsessive compulsive nature of bulimia, I cannot do enough to keep from feeling so very deeply. I obsessively exercise as a competitive triathlete. My body fat is so low that I do not have periods. I am ready for change, tired of working as an employee in conventional medicine. So I create change…As a regional representative then state president of the California Coalition of Nurse Practitioners, I lead my colleagues to improve our professional status, like prescribing privileges and malpractice coverage for independent nurse practitioners. And in July of 1997, I birth my own private practice—Full Circle Family Health.

The cocoon for my greatest transformation, within Full Circle Family Health, I learn a great deal about holistic healing, the biochemistry of the neuro-immune-endocrine system, how to integrate alternative therapies with conventional medicine. I develop a holistic model of Intuitive Integrative Medicine, collect loads of empirical data, create a nutritional product—Genesis Gold—that would become the foundation of my healing practice. In fact Genesis Gold would provide my hypothalamus with the necessary nutrients to finally heal my obsessive bulimic state of mind and more so, discover the psycho-spiritual roots of this dis-ease.

July 2002. We move to the house in my dreams…a little yellow house with white shutters…with room for my family, my horses and my practice. Finally I bring Full Circle Family Health home and begin living my most authentic life. Healing energy emanates from every corner of the property. Our animals serve therapeutic roles. Even the herb garden, the fruit trees and the flowers play their part in healing me, my family, my patients and my staff. Finally I am living my dreams.

And oh, yes…since I first consumed the Sacred Seven amino acids…the formula that would become the secret sauce in Genesis Gold… my sleep walking ceased. I slept peacefully through the night, began having regular periods, before starting the menopausal shift 5 years after my younger sisters. My bulimia abated as my obsessive compulsive nature mellowed. More so, my soul growth has been profound…and unlike so many of the spiritual gurus I have treated over the years who suffered physically while seeking enlightenment, I have experienced optimal health physically, emotionally and mentally.

By the Spring Equinox 2011, I had completed seven – seven year cycles. Death filled the year before my 50th birthday—first Steve’s Gran then two days later a beloved patient, and then Hope, our beloved Great Dane died on September 5th—fourteen years after Kyra’s puppy. The last death was Bulimic Deb….

 

Excerpt from My LoveDance 

3. SNAKE MEDICINE

MY LOVEDANCE -EBOOK IS FREE ON AMAZON FROM DECEMBER 8-13, 2016

On a hot summer morning, my last day of vacation before work resumes, I am searching for something on the back of my horse. Shane has a hesitant energy about her, barn-sour perhaps, missing her goat. I ask her to move on, but she stops three times on the trail. Charlie, my border collie-greyhound mix tucks himself under her tail. Both are usually gregarious, anxious to get out, to run side by side. Not today.

I reminisce. Our vacation in Cancun last week was amazing. A heart felt sensuous discovery. Kundalini energy rising from the alabaster sand through the turquoise sea and into puffy white clouds floating in the azure sky. Serpentine spirals floating in my heart chakra. I see these same serpentine energies—a dance of silver and gold—arising from my pituitary into my crown, down my spine and into my mare’s. Her hooves solidify our connection to the earth.

At the crest of the trail, the watering hole is dry. I dismount at the fire gate and water the dog. My mare is anxious, and Charlie drinks little attending only to her. As I mount up, Shane moves out from under me. Not her usual behavior. “Come on” I say, “Just a short ride up the keyhole and we’ll return.” Shane settles into herself, Charlie at her heels, to trot briskly up the single track. On our left the mountain rises, on our right a 50 foot drop to a dry creek bed. The dusty trail is but three foot wide. We are going too fast.

Before I can check her, my mare leaps. I hear rattling. I look back to see Charlie leap too. Over a huge snake, five to six feet in length, rattling its warning as it tries to cross the trail to the safety of the brushy cliff side. The dog looks back. I call for him. The snake’s rattling follows us as we descend to a wider part of the trail.

I feel exhilarated. I know all is well. That both animals are fine. I wrapped us all in white light before we left, but dutifully dismount to check them for puncture wounds. They are fine just excited. Not frothing with fear, but energized, ready to run. I know Snake has purposefully crossed my path.

On the way home I remember losing a day on the beaches of Mexico. I woke up feeling poisoned. My body ached, skin sensitive to the touch, nauseated, dizzy. Was it the sun? The margaritas? Dancing all night? I’ve done all before and never felt so sick, not hung over, but poisoned. Finally I purged the toxins onto the sand and slept the day away, dreaming serpentine images. Did I transmute snake medicine then?

Before I fall asleep that night, I set my intentions to dream of snake. And Snake comes. This time lying flat on a platform, neatly folded in half, head to tail. I am observing in this dream. Participating yet also observing. I, as a young woman, kneel with a dustpan to sweep very close to the snake. I tell her to get back or the snake will strike. Without a warning rattle, Snake bites her right hand. I go to her and she transforms into a baby. I cradle her in my arms, the poison mottling her tender skin. Before I can take her to the emergency room, others try to kill the snake. They do a poor job and I stop them. I cannot save this snake, but I do kneel by its partially severed head and release its spirit with gratitude before finishing the kill. I take the head and slip it into a purse which rests against my solar plexus.

The doctors take their time in treating the baby. When they finally arrive it has been 22 hours since she was bitten. Her entire body is mottled yellowish green, yet she is conscious, cooing at me. A female physician takes a huge irrigation syringe filled with what looks like marinade and flushes the baby orally. The mottling disappears. I ask what is in the syringe. “Oh, it’s lemon juice, orange juice, olive oil, hot pepper and melon!” Similar to my gallbladder flush recipe. The doctor smiles, “We do this for the parents. The child knows how to transmute the poison.”

The baby has gotten up, transformed now to a toddler. She looks at me. It is me as a toddler…big green doe eyes, dark thick hair, and my child says to me the adult, “I have been transmuting poisons all my life.”

I wake up in gratitude for Snake medicine.

 

Excerpt from My LoveDance – Now Available on Amazon

2. ALL IS OF THE DIVINE

MY LOVEDANCE -EBOOK IS FREE ON AMAZON FROM DECEMBER 8-13, 2016

August 6th, 1983 I married my beloved. We were sealed together for all eternity. We took it seriously…the sealing…although I have a certain amnesia when it comes to the secret temple ceremony. Sort of like Mary Magdalen. My life is loosely portrayed in Mary’s story. I called it LoveDance: Awakening the Divine Daughter…but it is My LoveDance…my Awakening to my Divine Daughter Potential…and with that I became whole…fully embodying the Divine Mother and now becoming the Crone (the Divine Grandmother energy of the Triple Goddess).

I have a memory of being in my mother’s womb, looking between my legs to find NOTHING…and feeling great despair because I knew how hard it would be to accomplish my mission on earth in female form. Thank the goddess, the world shifted during my lifetime…or did I shift my world?

I have started writing my story so many times. I have lots of stories collected over the years…my experiences as a human being. I have read with interest other’s stories of their awakening to their power…especially women…who tend to be more intimate in their story telling. Mine is different, I believe, in that I came knowing this life was about joy. I remember a calm acceptance of the family I chose… a gentle leading of my mother and father as I taught them how to parent me. A shepherding of my sisters…protecting and guiding them. Then a great need to be me…yet perceiving the world as unsupportive…I arrested my blossoming womanhood until I met my beloved.

I do not remember a time when I was not in communication with the earth, with the animals, with the plants. I have always felt others…their hopes, their fears, their dis-ease…I sometimes heard their thoughts, but mostly knew their hearts…their truth…saw their divine light. I learned very early the system of being human. How not to get distracted by the unseen in order to be present in reality. It’s as if I have been able to maintain my 3D channel while simultaneously watching many other channels…some I gathered information from, some entertained me, some guided me.

The past and the future were intertwined with my present. I could always see my future, dreaming of it many years before it would come to pass. I learned very early to wrinkle time…I remember reading A Wrinkle in Time and knowing that the author knew how too. I also remember disappearing.

I slipped in and out of the reality in which my friends and family existed quite easily. Playing hide and seek, I used this ability. I did not think of it as a talent then, I just did it. Only in writing Mary’s story did I consider how I did it. Before Mary’s story came to me, I did not consider my past lives.

Well, I did have a dream just before dreaming I was Mary Magdalen. I was a gypsy in a concentration camp. My husband had been killed. My daughter had been safely removed from the country by my father. I was a healer and the Nazis were using my abilities to assist in their experiments. I found a way to thwart them by releasing the souls of their victims before they could finish torturing them. I worked with my deceased spouse (the same one I’m married to now) who would take their souls through the veil. I knew they would eventually kill me, but I was not frightened…rather excited by our subterfuge. I woke up in joyous wonder of that time.

I knew then as I know now that all is of the Divine. Yes, all…the good, the bad and the ugly. It’s a matter of perspective. It’s our choice how we perceive life’s events. We can choose fear as the container to hold our experiences. Or we can choose love.

 

Excerpt from My LoveDance – a memoir of a spirit on an human journey

1. CHOOSING LOVE

MY LOVEDANCE -EBOOK IS FREE ON AMAZON FROM DECEMBER 8-13, 2016

I enter the cave from the cove. Bright orange fish reflect the fading light. Swimming silently in the brisk dark water, I go deeper. Voices echo indistinctly as kayakers enter the ocean side of this long dark sea cavern. The tunnel curves so the light cannot follow. I can see nothing. Only feel the brush of kelp against my bare legs and smooth fluttering of fish passing near. I raise my masked face to take in the dark. This could be scary if I chose fear. But I choose love. And swim on through the dark.

My niece swims past me never raising her head, so I follow her out to the open ocean. I promised her mother, I would watch over her. We wait for my sister to join us. We wait and wait. And after a long while, my sister appears. She clutches a rock nearest the tunnel and rips off her mask, breathing hard, panic emanating from her. She looked up in the dark and chose fear.

I calm her down. Get her to use my snorkel to slow her breath…and swim with one hand on her back. My sister blames her reaction on a kayaker taking underwater photography. “It was creepy. Pornographic!” I sigh…we are in wetsuits. When choosing fear…we often need to find something to be afraid of. I asked my niece if she was frightened. “No, you were with me.”

Three ways of being human. We can be like a little child and Trust. We can be like most of humanity and reflexively choose Fear. Or we can be conscious and choose Love.

Always three choices. The world is not duality, but a trinity of possibility.

This life I chose Love.

 

* Excerpt from My LoveDance