energy

55. DISENTANGLE YOUR CORDS OF ATTACHMENT – Part Two

I did this same exercise while writing my first book, LoveDance®. I wrote from the perspective of the heroine and like most novelists I used those in my life to base my characters. Envisioning how “Mary” would disentangle her cords of attachment to “Teoma”, I realized I must disentangle from my husband. For three days, he refused to go to work, sick to his stomach. I didn’t have a chance, while nursing him, to do the meditation let alone write it. Finally, he returned to work and I opened myself to receive the gift of the encounter with my laptop. While writing Mary’s disentanglement from Teoma, I disentangled my violet life cord from my husband’s vibrant green. The knots of our most recent struggles all the way back to those formed when our first child was born prematurely. The older knots were so well fermented I could sip the sweet wine of their gifts easily. The more recent knots—like our struggle with our changing roles as parents and the interference writing a book brought to our daily life—were more acrid in their newness, but I took the bitter cup and using the lubrication of love, found the gifts.

Mary and I floated free, breathing easily in the river of consciousness, while Teoma struggled to cling to the bank feeling very much abandoned. The moment I pushed “save”, my husband called. He was having a horrible day and “felt abandoned.” In spite of my reassurance, it took three weeks of repetitive visualizations before he relaxed and I no longer felt the painful ache of his sense of abandonment mirrored in my heart.

Now I did this same visualization with my firstborn, disentangling my violet from their indigo. My knots of expectation in their success in school were more difficult to unravel than the original knot between us representing their difficult birth. All the challenges of their prematurity and their numerous endocrine problems became one of my most profound gifts. My first child is why I do what I do, why I became an expert in clinical neuro-immune-endocrinology. The more recent knot representing my struggle with allowing them to be on their own, trusting that they would be safe and happy in a world without my constant maternal influence was a bit more difficult. The well-hidden gift turned out to be…accepting my transformation as a mother from nurturer-protector to confidante-advisor. In accepting them, I accepted myself. Twenty-four hours after I loosened the last knot between us, my wise child called me from college in San Francisco. “What are you doing down there, Mom? I feel lighter than ever!” I explained the disentanglement and they encouraged me to continue and “let go of us all, even yourself, and see, how enlightened you can be.”

So I did. Each and every significant person in my life, I disentangled from, I felt more and more free and my relationships with each person changed, transformed by love into something finer. I even disentangled from all I believed myself to be—a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a healer, a woman, even from Deborah—and discovered my truth, which is joy.

Since disentangling from our daughter while she was a sophomore in high school, now that the time had come to let her grow up and go away to college, I am handling it better than I did with my first. With them, my body reminded me of the pain of birthing…I suffered from a sciatic condition (just like when I gave birth) that lasted from the moment I helped them fill out their college applications to the day I drove them up to the University of San Francisco. Now with my daughter, the pain is a bittersweet heartache, not physically manifested. The kind of ache that actually feels good, like watching a sad movie and crying your heart out and knowing the joy of being human is to feel passionately.

In fact, my ethereal connection with my children has been so acutely enhanced since disentangling from them, that I realize the knots of my entanglements interfered with the clarity of my perceptions. Since letting my daughter grow up, I sleep soundly, only twice bolting out of bed, feeling her panic and calmly contacting her (via the telephone, since telepathy is difficult through the veil of fear) and all was well. I’ve taught her to trust the inner knowing and realize that through trial and error she will learn to ride the wave of our ethereal connection.

Actually, when it came time to escort our daughter to college, my husband did pretty well. He cried of course, and while at first resisting disentanglement, he admitted to having worked on it and yes, he felt lighter, less fearful, more willing to let her go and trust she will be well. And we both began to receive the gift of her leaving, becoming closer than ever, falling in love all over again—just the two of us.

So how might you release the illusion of your entanglements? Envision your life color, whatever comes to you is fine, then envision the color of the other person. Your red cord and her blue cord are braided nicely for the most part, but knotted in places. Like a precious necklace entangled into the thread of a silk sweater you do not want to break either, but carefully loosen the knots using the lubrication of love.

I live near the beach and off the coast, derricks pump oil from the floor of the Pacific Ocean. Often I come home with tar stuck to the soles of my feet. Only oil gets it off—like dissolving like. These knots in your cords of attachment seem like tar, but they are gifts of love and only the lubrication of love can dissolve the knots. If you look with eyes of love you can find the gift in each knot. It’s not easy, but after two or three knots, the entangled cords start unraveling, setting you free to float in the river of consciousness. You do not need to share with the person you are releasing what you have done, but your relationship WILL change.

No matter how ugly the wrapping, there is always a gift of love waiting to be discovered. So just let go. Disentangling your cords of attachment will free you to be your truth—the most precious gift of all.

54. TO HEAL SELF – Part Two

Excerpt from “My Lovedance”

Healing is an innate power within each and every one of us. It is encoded, I believe, in the unexpressed DNA, ready to be turned on by the power of our intentions. The National Cancer Institute has reported success in treating melanoma patients by genetically altering their white blood cells to enhance the ability of the immune system to kill cancer. In early cancer research, success means any cure since researchers tend to get medical failures to experiment on, so perhaps the 13 out of 15 subjects who were not cured had their immune systems destroyed by radiation and chemotherapy. The power to heal via a strong and vibrant immune system is innate.

I believe that clear intention and pure desire can turn that unexpressed DNA on, so perhaps the two melanoma patients who were cured believed so valiantly in the therapy that their hopes and prayers enabled their disabled genetics to remember how to fight off cancer.
As a healer, I have learned that I do not heal anyone, but educate them to heal themselves. I provide biochemical and psycho-spiritual counsel. I hold the intention, the energy of health and well-being mirrored in my body, in my DNA. Once a young woman I had been seeing since her teens insisted on an office exam just six months after her annual pap smear. There was no medical reason for her to come, so I questioned her. She very eloquently answered, “I just need to sit in your presence, feel your vibration, and I am set for about half year.”

I have a dear older patient, who makes me promise after every visit, every phone call to stay well. “We need your vibrancy to remember how to be whole.”

After working all my life to be an example of health through exercise, nutrition, and lifestyle choices, I know that my true talent is in perceiving every event in my life as a lesson. Plus a positive attitude can be seriously protective.

Once in Seattle, I attended a detoxification seminar. After the morning presentations about all the toxins in our everyday environment, we were released for lunch. This group of holistic nurses, physicians, naturopaths and chiropractors hesitated to choose anything from the menu of what seemed to be a reasonably healthy restaurant. With my usual gusto, I ordered tuna on fire and the rest of them looked at me like I was nuts. One woman asked if I had paid attention to the statistics on heavy metal contamination of fatty fish.

“Why, yes. I took scrupulous notes, but I do not believe in my vulnerability to toxicity. At this very moment, your fear is sucking the mercury right out of my tuna.” True, although I have eaten contaminated seafood all my life, I have not tested positive for heavy metal toxicity. Was it favorable genetics, perhaps…or my attitude?

Whenever I see a seriously contagious patient, I say to myself, “This is not your bug!” and rarely catch their illness. When I do become ill, it is usually a psycho-spiritual dilemma in which I have been paying little attention and finally my body is reminding me to take care of it.

My accident was truly a gift. I had never been seriously injured before in spite of vigorous and dangerous activities—mountain biking, skiing, scuba diving, road bike racing—never given a personal chance to learn how healing works.

What I learned was this: that gratitude is the key to the power of intention. With all the positive encouragement, my body rapidly responded. It makes me wonder how much faster I might have healed if I didn’t spend the first day fussing over my predicament. Fear definitely hampers healing. Surely I have seen this to be true.

Years ago, I had diagnosed a 32-year-old patient with metastatic breast cancer. Granted, I was well trained in western medicine and was dabbling in natural therapies, but cancer? She was not just a patient, but a co-worker, a friend, my age and very much concerned about her husband’s fifteen-year-old niece, who was fretting over her young healthy breasts, fearful of developing her aunt’s cancer. I taught the girl how to examine herself, explained that she shared none of her aunt’s risk factors, they weren’t even related, but shortly after we buried her aunt, the girl developed a tumor. In the exact same spot.

Mind over matter? I was taught then and there the power of thought when fueled by fear. And I have seen over and over again, patients worrying themselves into disease…yet I have also seen the power of hope, love and gratitude to cure what was deemed incurable.

Bernie Segal, the author of Love, Laughter, and Medicine, was one of the first allopathic doctors to explore the curative power of love. He stated case after case of illnesses derived by suggestion—like the man who was just about to be discharged from the hospital but told instead by an intern that he had only days to live and died—as well as the cures—like the man whose family decided not to tell him that his cancer was fatal and lived well beyond his physician’s dire prognosis.

In my experience, most of my breast cancer patients tend to take care of everyone but themselves. Unless they receive that lesson, they do not survive the disease. I have some amazing women in my practice who have healed themselves by understanding that their cancer was their souls’ cry for help, not attending to the souls’ needs for so long that their body had to get their attention. Some use traditional allopathic treatments, others use only natural therapies, most who seek my care combine the two. I do not dictate to them what they must do to heal, what therapeutics to choose, but counsel them to make peace with their bodies, find the gift in their disease and begin healing with the faith that they have the innate ability to cure themselves.

Many of my patients come to me “hormonally-challenged”. I coined this term years ago to describe not just the aging process or stress-related deficiencies, but also the resistance to our own bio-chemical messengers. You might have heard of insulin resistance leading to obesity and diabetes, but you can have cellular receptor site resistance to any of your own hormones produced by your gonads, adrenals, thyroid, even your pituitary gland.

If I diagnose an insulin resistant patient early and put him on a low glycemic diet and supplements to enhance cellular receptivity, but do not help him explore the fact that he may unconsciously feel unworthy of the sweetness in life, he will require more and more therapeutic assistance and the most strictly abstinent diet just to keep his blood sugars under control. If he receives the gift of his insulin resistance and begins healing his sense of unworthiness, his cells open to receive the glucose necessary to run his metabolism. He becomes metabolically more active, loses that midline fat as well as the risk factors that would have led to diabetes and heart disease, but more so, he takes delight in life.

The spring before my accident, I attended a Science and Consciousness conference in Albuquerque and realized how I had healed myself. Gregg Braden spoke on his newest book, The Isaiah Effect, which explained that prayer and healing worked through clear intention fueled by loving gratitude. So with my experience and armed with the equation for manifestation, I began teaching my patients. Sometimes the Isaiah effect worked, but not always, especially in dealing with relationship issues.

I am not the only soul in the universe, but am part of a great whole, so when my intentions would not become manifest as rapidly as I desired, my husband would remind me that it’s not in Deborah-timing, but Divine-timing.

The next year while researching my first novel, LoveDance®, I discovered Neil Douglas Klotz. His work explained that the terms translated as good and evil from the Aramaic, tava and bisha, actually meant—ripe and unripe. So Divine-timing meant Ripe timing.

We have been taught that the formula for manifestation was clear intent plus pure emotion is what creates our reality. But the formula is not algebraic, it’s trigonometric. Not duality but trinity. There is a third part—ripe timing.

X + Y + Z = Manifestation
Whereas:
X = Intention
Y = Emotion
Z = Timing
Your Intention + Your Emotion + Divine Timing = Your Reality

So now I counsel my patients to continue to hold clear intentions of healing their bodies, their minds, their relationships; fuel their intentions not with fear but with loving gratitude; and in ripe-timing, they will manifest. And the rewards will be sweet indeed.

Every day, I thank my body for her strength, her health, her vitality. Like taking my nutraceutical supplement—Genesis Gold®—and staying active, I see gratitude as a proactive means to support my wellbeing. I am trying very hard to practice what I preach, so neither my body nor my inner voice must scream to get my attentions. And thankfully now that guiding voice has become a gentle whisper.

50. CHAKRAS AND MEDITATION

Excerpt from “My Lovedance”

My oldest friend is at it again. Who knew that our reconnection would be such a source of inspiration for me? The universe perhaps? Our souls? Well, she asked to borrow any books I had on chakras and meditation. She couldn’t find anything online. I said sure. I’ll look through my library and see what I’ve got. So I went through my spiritual library. I’ve kept every book that has touched my soul but alas, I found nothing. How did I learn about chakras and such if not from books?

That got me thinking. When I first heard about chakras, I think it was about the time I met my first mentor, I felt I already “knew” these points of power. They were in perfect alignment with the endocrine system—the glands that produce hormones. The words used to describe the energy of the chakras — which by the way means wheels of energy in Sanskrit — were exactly how I would describe the hormonal effects from each gland. I see the same colors from root to crown when I assess a patient. The only difference I have with the traditional Eastern interpretation of these energy centers, lies in the second chakra.

So in my interpretation of how East meets West in the endocrine system, the first chakra corresponds with the gonads. Known as the root chakra, the first chakra is red, the color of passionate creation, the fire of creation. The ovaries of a woman and the testes of a man produce the hormones necessary to “create” new life and rebirth themselves. When people enter the midlife crisis, it is truly a time of recreating their new life. Helping them with bio-identical hormone replacement therapy has been my biological therapies, while I help them understand that in order to get that clear deep red passion back in their lives, they must conceive a new passion. Usually this leads to a new life via art, hobbies, change in occupation, finally finding their soul purpose. Those patients with issues of the first chakra—prostate cancer, ovarian cysts, uterine fibroids—I find to be stuck in their creativity. While we may conceive an idea in our brains, it is through this red root chakra that we birth our creations. I “see” the first chakra as taking root into the earth where we birth our creative powers of manifestation.

The second chakra corresponds to the pancreas. Known as the belly or umbilical chakra, the second chakra is bright orange, very sweet, the fuel to the fire of creation. Like insulin escorting glucose into your cells to create energy, the second chakra is your source of creative energy, fueling or nurturing your creations. I call this the sweetness of life. I see very few people with bright orange second chakras. Most of what is diagnosed as insulin resistance is at the spiritual level a resistance to the sweetness of life. Once a patient opens to receive the sweetness of life, her blood sugar stabilizes, she no longer needs to store body fat around her middle like a buoy, her insulin resistance reverses. Not that I do not recommend supplementation to biochemically treat insulin resistance but without the energetic connection, the healing is incomplete.

The third chakra corresponds to the adrenal glands. The adrenals sit atop of your kidneys and are the energetic source of power. They produce the stress hormones of fight or flight. This chakra located at the level of your solar plexus is bright yellow—a place of energetic balance of will and emotion. I find that fear related disease sits here. Don’t you feel fear in the pit of your stomach? Well, that is your third chakra. This is the chakra most of the first world power hungry population is working on. This is the chakra where my bulimia resided…the pit of fear. Although I rarely meet a truly yellow aura, I’ve come to love this golden energy however briefly encountered. It feels like delight. Warm, bright sunshiny, long summer days filled with joy. That is a healthy third chakra.

The fourth chakra corresponds with the thymus. Known as the heart chakra, the fourth chakra is all about learning to love self and others. It is green with a rosy center. The heart chakra is expansive. I’ve had experiences of my heart chakra feeling as large as the ocean…deep and green with all the colors merged within it…where I am connected to all that is…through my heart. The thymus is a tiny gland that programs your white blood cells to know the difference between self and other to protect you. This is where we form healthy boundaries. Heart centered compassion begins with self-love. I’ve heard that Buddhist monks must learn compassion for self before committing themselves to compassionate service to others. This is a hard lesson for we’ve been acculturated to accept martyrdom and self-sacrifice as the means to salvation. Yet if you do not care for yourself, how can you care for others? It’s like the safety instructions given on the airplane. Put your own oxygen mask on first then help those dependent upon you. Makes sense, doesn’t it?

The fifth chakra corresponds with the thyroid. Known as the throat chakra, the fifth chakra is blue, clear and bright as a summer sky. The thyroid controls metabolism, how fast we burn energy. The fifth chakra orchestrates how we express ourselves, how we use energy. Do we speak our truth? If not, dis-ease sets in, usually as thyroid disorders, chronic sore throats, laryngitis. All her life, my mother was not able to wear necklaces…she felt as if she was choking to put anything around her throat. A classic fifth chakra issue. Through my own spiritual journey, I have worked through my chakras and just before my 50th birthday felt like I needed topaz to fully open my fifth chakra. My mother found a beautiful silver choker embedded with blue topaz in the form of a butterfly. Perfect gift for my transformation. Perfect timing to finally speak my truth by telling my story.

The sixth chakra corresponds with the pituitary gland. Known as the third eye, the sixth chakra is indigo (notice how the colors of the chakras are in rainbow alignment). The seat of insight, inner knowing, consciousness, the sixth chakra houses the pituitary which regulates the lower endocrine system. Although most refer to the pituitary as the master gland, I like to think of it as a middle manager, since it responds to hypothalamic hormones. The true Queen of the kingdom, the
hypothalamus controls the entire neuro-immune-endocrine system. But that’s another topic fully illustrated in my best-selling book- Hormones in Harmony®.

The seventh chakra corresponds with the pineal gland. Known as the crown chakra, the seventh is violet. I always imagine bowing my head in prayer and receiving divine enlightenment through my crown—white light refracting into the rainbow. When the sun goes down, the pineal gland produces the sleep hormone melatonin and our subconscious communicates with us through dreams. The crown chakra tends to be very open in what I call ethereal people while their lower chakras especially their roots are closed. They appear to me as bubbleheads with their aura concentrated around their head.
It seems to me that each of us has a dominant color to our life force. A violet life force often directs a person towards serving humanity through the healing arts, although I imagine this life force would make a good sage, priestess, wise man. I’ve been told by energy healers that I have a violet aura. I do see violet whenever I meditate and violet is a power color for me.

An indigo life force is unusual in adults. You might have heard of the Indigo Children. It is believed that these children of the new age are born with clear insight, deep inner knowing, and many gifts including clairvoyance, clairaudience and clairsentience. There’s a lot of speculation of when these children began to arrive, but the majority seemed to be born around the Harmonic Convergence from the early 80’s to the mid 90’s. An indigo life force would seem to guide one into world changing professions and fields. My son is indigo, not an easy aura to have as he grew up, yet is coming into resonance the closer we get to the shift.

A blue life force serves an orator, teacher, politician very well. A green life force seems to direct people into the service fields, agriculture, and environmental sciences. These seem to be salt of the earth, grounded balanced people. My husband has a green life force. Most people I have met with yellow auras seem to be very fearful, tend to have lots of anxiety. I believe that a healthy yellow life force would guide one into many fields of service as you would be empowered by love rather than fear reactive.

Orange auras are rare indeed. I think an orange life force would make amazing parents, especially mothers, but anyone who nurtures new young life would find great ease if they possessed an orange life force. People with red life forces build our world—artists, contractors, technologists, scientists, producers. Red empowers their creative forces and they live life passionately, although may not be easy to live with being fueled by a great survival instinct.

Whatever your dominant life force, all your chakras need to be in balance to stay healthy. I love to do a chakra meditation in which I am climbing a mountain of color. I lie or sit with my hands in a V, fingertips down between my legs to focus my energy in my root and begin my journey into self. I begin at the base of the mountain where the path is red. All the flowers and trees and rocks and even the path itself are shades of red. Often I am met by a red escort, sometimes male, sometimes female, always very sensual, passionate, hot energy. As I ascend the mountain, I can feel my energy rising from my root chakra into my belly. And the path shifts to reddish orange until it is bright and juicy as a naval orange.

Surrounded by orange foliage accompanied by an orange guide whose energy is very sweet, tender, I rise up my mountain of energy. The colors shift into mango, sunset orange-yellow. When I enter a bright yellow part of the path with golden sunflowers and wheat colored grasses, I feel a lightness in my solar plexus, like all my worries have been drained from me. A golden escort brings me higher up the mountain until I meet the green man. Here my escort is always male, perhaps because I see him as the divine masculine part of myself. I feel filled with love, an expansiveness in my chest that extends into my arms through my entire body and out beyond my aura. If I stay here long enough I feel a connection with all that is like I am an ocean of potential. The green path is very natural, earthy, very familiar and I can stay here forever, but the green man always encourages me to go on to the blue part of the journey. The colors shift from green to turquoise to sky blue. All the flowers, the trees, the grasses are a strange but peaceful shade of blue. Here any constriction in my throat relaxes and often I feel like singing. Although the song is wordless, it feels like the sound of my chakras—OH, AHH, OO, EE—a blessed relief. Here I may meet a blue escort, but more likely it is the wind blowing me through this part of my journey. The blue deepens, darkens until it is indigo in color and I feel perched within my own head, as if I am looking in behind my eyes. The mountain path is narrow and shorter now, intensely indigo blue. Like the deepest dye of blue jeans, it stains my perception, everything looks indigo. I am nearly there and stay on this part of the path very briefly.

At the top of the mountain I ascend white marble steps into a crystalline temple. Any garments I may be wearing fall away as I enter a clear pool of water. All my energy fields are cleansed as the water bathes away my fears, doubts, worries, disbelief. I step out of the pool and into a violet flame. Any negativity I have carried into the temple of my being is transformed by this flame into a gemstone. Sometimes the gem is yellow topaz if my work has been centered in clearing fear from my third chakra. Sometimes it is sapphire blue if my focus has been on speaking my truth. The transformation of my negative energy into a gem is a transmutation of poisons into gifts. I leave the gem as a gift to my temple. My crown chakra at this point feels very wide open, yet I am quite grounded. My lower chakras well lit, experienced and cherished keep me in my form, in the temple of my body. Once I set down my gift, I get to enjoy the view. The temple sits upon the mountain of my life and from here I can see where I’ve been and where I’m going, in fact all of my potentials lie before me, paths untaken, paths yet to explore. It is quite wondrous. Sometimes I am in need of guidance and if so I am met by a guide, an angel, more often than not an embodiment of my Higher Self. We sit in conference or stroll the temple gardens and I receive insight.

Sometimes I am taken to an inner room where my ancestral memory resides. Some refer to this as the Akashic records. I don’t spend much energy there, receiving the connections from the past, from my DNA, from my soul agreements and bridging them to my present existence. Sometimes I am in need of healing so I am taken to a healing room where I lie or rather levitate while I am being ministered to by what feels like angels. When I am through with my meditation, I slide or slip or dance back down the path to the point where my fingertips meet at my root.

47. MY ALTAR, MYSELF

Excerpt from “My Lovedance”

Directly across from the door to our home is my altar. A lavender macramé cloth covers the small winged table. Objects sacred to me adorn the four corners with candles in the cardinal directions.

The altar changes from time to time according to my needs. Often my children ask to be put on the altar. And I make elaborate altars for them, holding the energy as they face challenges like when my eldest interviewed for their first real teaching job (and thankfully got it!), and my daughter tested for nursing school (and she got in too!) When Steve’s Gran first fell ill, he asked me to dedicate an altar for her. And after she passed, the altar reflected our love and devotion to her.

Today, items sacred to our upcoming retreat lie on the altar…The red cord I made to help us connect to our ancestors and each other. The crow’s feather bound in triple goddess colors that helped us choose the theme of our retreat. A golden frame filled with photos of men I treasure — my husband, my father, my grandfather — my beloved divine masculine.

And in the front — my Box of Me.

I made this one up… but what healing has come from creating a Box of Me. It started just after my father’s surgery, my sisters had moved him into a senior apartment complex and found a box of old photos. In it was a photo I do not recall, but looking at the black and white image of me at thirteen months old dressed in an Easter dress holding a little purse and gazing out with old soul eyes, I remembered. Showing my parents how to parent me and feeling their emotions. I took that photo and pasted it on the Box of Me. Somehow I would heal the child within. And through the Box of Me, placing me on my altar.

Inside the Box of Me, the mementos change yet each represents my dreams, my hopes, my intentions. I’ve guided many patients and some women friends in the creation of a Box of Me. How therapeutic it has been to honor ourselves, to put into this special box all that we hope for and say to the universe YES! Yes, I am. And more so to fall in love with ourselves. Because that’s where love starts. If we don’t love and honor and cherish ourselves, how can we love and honor and cherish each other?

It’s hard for most women to make a Box of Me…harder yet to place anything sacred within their Box of Me. It is start, a fresh start to healing the child within. I ask them to choose a photo of themselves that is before the time they remember the trauma of childhood. The innocent time before becoming domesticated into humanity. A time when they remember being happy. Few go back to adolescence, most go back early childhood, some all the way back to infancy.

In the center lies the golden runner embroidered by Steve’s Yia Yia…a wedding gift given to me by his father who came from Greece to witness our union 28 years ago. Upon the runner sits Ascension.

46. MEDICINE WHEELS AND SACRED SPACES

Excerpt from “My Lovedance”

Like many on their journey, I turned to the writing of others to learn more about myself. In the 90’s I was fascinated by Native American spirituality and read most of Mary Summer Rain’s books in which she is mentored by a Native American elder…a grandmother of great wisdom. I am grateful the author shared her path. So much so that I share mine with you now.

So I created a Medicine Wheel garden in our side yard. I divided the eight sections with rocks and planted each section with the same types of flowers and herbs. In each I placed sacred items representing my path on the medicine wheel. And the garden grew so lovely, except in those areas that I needed to work on—self-esteem and relationships. Another message from Mother Earth to me.

When we moved here I longed for another Medicine Wheel. We created garden spaces, beautiful outdoor rooms lush with plants. The herb garden, my patients pass through to get to the office, grew lush and vibrant in less than six weeks. My husband and I have very green thumbs. I plant intuitively and he puts in the watering and keeps the critters under control. Well, he and the cat keep the critters under control.

In the north section of our property is our horse corral. The barn was built shortly after the house in the 50’s, so there’s horse energy in the place of wisdom. Though I find my horse most wise indeed, I still envisioned a Medicine Wheel under the sprawling oak in the north corner. There I would seek wisdom from the land, from Gaia herself.

We had perfect rocks for the Medicine Wheel. Dug up by the pool builders, these smooth golden boulders would mark the directions elegantly. But Steve had parked the horse trailer under the oak. How I longed for another Medicine Wheel…

And one day, the oak split and crushed the trailer that was parked in the spot designated for my Medicine Wheel. That’s what I get for wanting something badly enough. It comes to me. I don’t miss the horse trailer, but I sure do love my Medicine Wheel. And so does my horse ☺

Shane treats the Medicine Wheel as sacred, at least she seems to. I never find manure within the circle. The old gelding that died last fall wasn’t as respectful. Yet a few years ago, we were watching the Fourth of July firework display when the horses spooked and ran into the circle of rocks, then turned and calmly watched the fireworks with us.

In the morning after I feed and pick up manure, I seek refuge in my Medicine Wheel. I sit on the Eastern rock and meditate. Usually the animals join me. Fortunately, the rock is big enough for me, a cat in my lap, a dog by my side and a pygmy goat. The horse doesn’t try to get into my lap like the goat, but she hovers. It’s awesome to be surrounded by my beloved animals.

It’s important for my soul growth to create sacred spaces. I recommend it to my patients when they begin their journey or are feeling lost. Create a sacred space. Somewhere in your home or outside in the garden, set aside a spot for you to connect to your Higher Self. Outside I have my Medicine Wheel. Inside I have My Altar.

34. FEAR TRANSFORMED INTO JOY

Excerpt from “My Lovedance”

So now fresh from my reconnection with my higher self, I set my intentions to see the face of my fears. The time was ripe. And the universe presented the fruits of my labors.

In late August 2008, I got an urgent call. My mother-in-law was being taken by ambulance from Santa Maria to Santa Barbara. And she wanted me. Before she allowed the doctors to do anything, she wanted me there. I am her medical agent, the one responsible for following her end of life wishes, yet she was fully cognizant, just scared.

So I drove the 45 miles to the hospital knowing this was it. I would be facing one of my fears. As a nurse practitioner, I had been called upon by the family many times over the years for medical advice. It was assumed by my elders that I would be the one to take care of them. And frankly, after decades of providing care for others I did not want to end my life as a caretaker. Plus being a caretaker is hard physically, mentally and emotionally. I have counseled many suffering from depression, insomnia, anxiety, and utter exhaustion from long spans of care-taking.

I knew that it was time to take in Steve’s grandmother while his mother recuperated. And then we would take her. And I knew my husband would agree to whatever I decided and would do everything he could to help. And I also knew it would be me doing all the work.

So I stepped into the ER and stepped into my fear. The family gratefully released all to me. My mother-in-law only signed the emergency surgery release after I counseled with her. It was clear that Steve’s grandmother was not happy being handed over to his aunt and uncle. So once his mother was taken to the operating room, we offered to take Gran. There was little resistance.

Gran came home with us. She was delight, but not safe with her rickety cane on our hard wood floors. So we got her a four wheel drive walker and at 89 years old Gran became mobile again. My mother-in-law had been living with her for the past six years and slowly Gran lost her ability to be productive…or so we thought. To me she was more than willing, so I put her to work. Gran was delighted to help and we found her much more capable than her daughters had reported.

She helped fold clothes while watching Ellen every afternoon and in the evening helped me with dinner. When Steve finally brought his mother home from the hospital, she was surprised to see Gran cutting veggies. “She can’t use a knife! She’s on Coumadin!”

I smiled. “She’s been very careful and if she cuts herself, luckily I can stitch her up.”

Shortly after she arrived, Gran said, “Since my stroke, I can’t smell very well. So you’ll have to tell me if I need a bath.” A day or two later, I sniffed her and announced it was time. She balked a bit nervous to have me help her in and out of the bath. But I had the perfect set up. Our guest bath had a tiny soaking tub with a seat inside an enclosed shower. So I warmed up the bath, and helped her in. Then she sat down, “Uh, oh!”

“What?”

“You aren’t going to be able to get me up.” The seat was too low and her arthritic knees were higher than her hips.

“It’s ok, Gran. I’m a nurse. I know how to lift you.”

She shook her head, “You’re too little.”

“I’m strong, Gran, and Steve’s here if we need help…”

“Oh, no. I don’t want Stevie to help.” Great!

Ten minutes later, all parts of Gran were sparkling clean and I was soaked. After a failed attempt to lift her from the edge of the tub. I stripped off my sodden nightgown and climbed in with her. She laughed telling me that’s how her other daughter did it. I placed one knee between hers, squatted down, “one, two, three” and lifted Gran to her feet. She held me tight as I helped her over the edge of the tub and she didn’t let me go.

“It’s so nice to hold you like this,” she whispered. It was nice. “But there’s only three breasts between us!” She had had a mastectomy thirteen years before. I almost dropped her laughing!

That was Gran always finding delight in everything. I know it’s not easy accepting help especially if your role in life is to be of service. I hope I am a gracious patient and not a burden on my loved ones. But the stress of illness and the demeaning role of incapacitation can make the best of us turn sour. Yet Gran was a delight.

My mother-in-law was another story. I have yet to meet a medical professional who is a good let alone gracious patient and my mother-in-law is a retired nurse. She also had become one of those resentful caretakers that I didn’t want to emulate. So although my care-taking load more than doubled when Steve brought her home from the hospital, I was determined not to lose myself and took time every day for me.

Shortly after they arrived I got a call from Steve’s cousin. She had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. When it rains it does pour. So I spent time counseling her, helping her to see the spiritual message of the dis-ease. I find that breast cancer patients are very good at taking care of others, but quite poor at self-care. Their body speaks to them through the dis-ease. “Time to nurse me please.” I think she got it. And so did I.

I was so busy during this time, that I did not record it. There is nearly a month missing in my journals yet it is burnt into my memory. And it happened again the very next year. And the second time, I took care of them both for months instead of weeks. Yet in spite of the incredible stress, I am left with such pleasant memories.

Every afternoon, after Ellen, Gran asked if I was free to have coffee with her. I was still seeing patients three days a week in my office which is on our property. My mother ran my practice and was in charge of keeping an eye on Gran while I was in with a patient. Gran would push her walker out onto the patio overlooking the herb garden and chat with the patients as they admired the flowers. And when the last one left, I would sit and have a cup of coffee with her.

And I learned how to sit and enjoy being. Gran loved the garden, the flowers, the hummingbirds that would visit us, the butterflies, even the jays that shooed the songbirds from the feeders and especially the antics of the squirrels as they scolded the cat and the crows. Gran took delight in being alive. And I took delight in being with her.

My fear of care-taking transformed into joyous service. I had written about joyous service in LoveDance® but for the first time, I got to experience it. The family thought I was a saint. My husband cannot thank me enough. Yet it was I who am ever grateful for the opportunity to serve in love and joy.

33. KNOWING THE ALL

Excerpt from “My Lovedance”

Recently I began to check out channeling that has been going on for 22 years. Benevolent guidance from the other side through a man who in this life is an engineer. My engineer brother-in-law would scoff as I’m sure this man did when he first received interdimensional communication. I believe women are more open, the feminine being naturally receptive.

I am in awe of the confirmation of what I know…revealed to me at the same time and sometimes before it was channeled through those who openly share the guidance they receive. I guess knowing they are out there makes it easier for me to come out of the closet and share what I know.

A month after I reconnected to my higher self, I wrote…

Q: Tomorrow I have been married 25 years!
A: Millenniums together from time eternal, playing different parts of creation. Yeshua watches as your love blossoms into its fullness with great hope for the future of this planet. Your love becomes the portal in which Divine Mother Earth may pass through to the 4th-5th-6th dimensions. Three petals, three dimensions unfolding in triads. It is time for the Earth and its inhabitants to pass into the next universe, soon so soon

Q: 2012?
A: Yes, 2013 will be its birth, its delivery after a long 2012 transition. Really since Kyra’s conception in 1987 the birth pangs began—labor—she labors—you labor to deliver her. The rest of consciousness, the mass awakenings are souls who wish to progress. The rest will stay behind in darkness—the dream of their making.

Q: I thought no soul left behind?
A: You cannot save them all. Each has free will to stay or to go. You can only show the way. That is your frustration. Your fatigue is from holding the energies—being the way—for those who cannot see, those who pay no attention. You can only create small openings and the light will shine through. They may not receive the light of love. You did enough—move on and Be The Way!

Patience is not one of my best virtues. So waiting has been hard. Just Being rather than Doing goes against everything we are taught. Yet it is The Way. To Be the Light of Love. And I “know” and now have “gnosis” that is gets easier. As the vibration of the planet rises, we may resonate or not. Those who do feel the ease and avert dis-ease.

30. THE GRANDMOTHERS COUNCIL

Excerpt from “My Lovedance”

After Divine Mother was healed, Divine Daughter was Unveiled through the writing of LoveDance®. I made peace with the Divine Mother energies, received the Divine Mother within myself, learned to mother me and birthed myself as the Divine Daughter. I then published my first book in November 2007 and began 2008 ready to begin book two of the LoveDance® trilogy and was stymied…

It began with the Grandmother’s Council. Just after LoveDance® was released, a jolly lady showed up in my office wanting to buy a book. Delighted I signed it for her. She gazed at the cover and said, “The grandmothers would love to know more about the divine daughter energy.”

“The grandmothers?”

“Yes, the Grandmother’s Council of Ojai. Would you come and speak to our group?”

Of course! They met the second Sunday of every month so when my schedule freed up from marketing my book, I went to the Grandmothers Council to share the Divine Daughter with them. They received me joyously and then preceded to offer empowerments. I watched and was transported back to Mary’s time once again. These gracious older women surrounded those who came to them in a veil of love, placed healing hands upon them and blessed them. Tears poured from my eyes as I watched the ancient rites delivered with such love
in these modern times.

Then the head grandmother turned to me and asked, “Don’t you want an empowerment?”

I thought I was there to present…not to receive…yet…I nodded, “Yes, please.” And stood within their loving embrace as the grandmothers veiled me so I might just receive, placed tender hands upon me and began to sing.

“Oh, how we love you. Oh, how we love you…”

And the ancestors came in…all the matriarchal lineage in a beam of light. The spirits guided me through the great grandmother saying they are very proud of me and the work I am doing, that they are always here for me, pushing, nudging whispering encouragement. Now is not the time to stand still. Now is the time to be in the world.
It was profound. And the grandmothers have been with me in spirit and in body ever since.

28. FAMILY TIES

Excerpt from “My Lovedance”

Learning to be my truth within my family of origin has taken a very long time. It is our soul work to witness our lessons in the mirror of those we love. And families are magnifying lenses…

Dec 23rd, 2003

Off to Utah for the family holidays. Anxious premonitions of my beloved Santa cup breaking. After 20 years of keeping them safe for my sisters, I tried to pack them carefully, but one tumbled out of the car, so I traded my unscathed cup for the fractured one. This trip is about breaking attachments, perhaps to things, but yet deeper, to what I believed my sisters to be. As I am coming to know myself as joyous passion I shall recognize who they are as love. So many sister dreams lately. Since childhood, I have flown in my dreams stringing them along like Peter Pan, barely able to get them off the ground. Lately in my dreams, I do not hold their hands, but try to teach them to fly on their own, but they resist. I feel tired, saddened. Will my sisters throw me out like Yeshua was thrown out of Nazareth? Strangers can be more accepting than those closest when you change too rapidly.

Dec 26th, 2003 A snowstorm traps us in the house, playing games, memories abound. On Christmas Eve, I experienced the power of the loving-kindness prayer. The family gathered around my sister’s large kitchen island arguing about the Cody Bank’s rape charge. When the manner in which the victim dressed was blamed, I felt the urge to jump into the fray, yet stopped and silently asked that my fear be lifted and I be filled with light and love, then asked the same for each and every one of them. When I got to Kyra, she looked up and mouthed, “What are you doing?”

“Blessing us,” I silently replied. The tension melted. The brothers-in-law about to engage in fist a cuffs, laughed at another’s joke and all was well. This morning my youngest sister hugged me fiercely claiming she thinks about me every day. Lately I can say the same. I wish I could see beyond the possessive love in this family, the competitiveness, the criticism, the ego…especially mine—my ego is much too overwhelming. My muse is on holiday, but lots of purple around me, my aura brilliant whenever I close my eyes. Torn between gluttony and deprivation, defenseless in the face of my family without bulimia to protect me. Trapped in a house of mirrors. One: reflecting unforgiving close-mindedness, one: emotional, temperamental, quick to strike, yet a core of love, one: distant, shallow immersion, non-committal, one: lost in a world of self, one: poor self-esteem, critical of all, not knowing when to hold her tongue, my brothers-in-law, my nieces and nephews clueless bystanders, my husband supportive, policing my behavior. This journal my only escape…

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25. EVERLASTING BIRTH PANGS

Late in spring, Steve and I were at Lowes buying veggies for the garden. He left me with a cart full of plants to go get something in the warehouse…a dangerous thing cause I LOVE flowers. Some dahlias called so I knelt to find the one that wanted to come home with me when I was approached by a tiny, slightly bent, very wrinkled, delightfully enthusiastic ancient Native American woman.

“Come, come. You must see these flowers.” She beckoned pushing a walker cart. I was enchanted by her energy and followed her. “These are the flowers for you.”

She showed me some bright yellow and pink annuals. “Touch them,” she insisted. The flowers were dry, perfectly preserved. I was amazed. “Strawflowers!” She exclaimed. “They’re for you.” I yearned to give her a big hug, but she was so tiny and fragile, I just caressed her shoulder as I thanked her. How could I not buy one?

So I planted a bright yellow strawflower in front and forgot about it…until last Memorial Day. I was on my way to finish my sculpture…and had an uneasy feeling all weekend. Driving over to Grandmother Kathy’s house filled with a familiar feeling of anticipation peppered by trepidation, I was transported back to 1984 driving to UCLA to pick up my first born from the NICU, excited but a little scared. My whole life would change when I brought him home. And now my life was changing again.

I cried the moment Kathy hugged me. “What’s wrong?” About to bring home another life changing creation, I knew that I would never be the same again.

My sculpture came out of the kiln relatively unscathed (a slight crack in the horse’s neck and her left knee…we all have birthmarks and scars, don’t we?) The retouch staining went well, but alas Kathy did not have the right glue to attach the crystal amethyst wings to the ceramic back of the woman so off we went to Lowes.

And Kathy led me right over to a lovely display of strawflowers. “Do you know what these are?” I nodded, as a matter of fact I did, and shared the story of the ancient flower woman with her. She was very excited and after getting the glue and another strawflower plant for each of us, we headed back to her house to attach the wings.

As we waited for the glue to dry, Kathy brought out an essential oil…Helichrysum…she said was from strawflower…yet I knew in holding the tiny vial…that wasn’t quite right…I envisioned a rougher plant… I was hesitant to smell it…She wondered why and I explained that certain odors are powerful memory inducers for me…finally I did…

…and I was in the tomb anointing Yeshua’s hands and feet. Then I went further back to just before the Seder…opening the alabaster jar, Judas reacted to the scent of the helichrysum…not the spikenard, frankincense or myrrh, but the helichrysum because…it was used to heal wounds, to revive…to resurrect…and now he had to do what was asked of him…he didn’t believe and the others, well, they didn’t know what was going on…Then I saw myself well before that last Passover collecting tiny dried yellow flowers from a rough lavender looking plant and simmering them in olive oil until the essence was extracted….Tears poured down my cheeks as I remembered…

Kathy was amazed…she called the essence “everlasting” Afterwards I looked it up online (I love my smart phone!) and found the plant from which the oil is derived….it looked like what I envisioned and the Latin name is “Immortelle”…

I found research on helichrysum for use in gingivitis. I decided to try it on my gums…Steve’s reaction to the smell was strong…he said it made him feel “very upset… please don’t use it again, please” My Mom found it healing, so much so just smelling it relieved a headache… Kathy had the same reaction as Mom…

Now once again I’m astride two worlds…as Jarys would say…the past and the present. Or if there is no time…I’m floating in my river of consciousness between the banks of what was and what will be.

Excerpt from My LoveDance. Available on Amazon