On Forgiveness, Firetrucks and Feedback

Forgiveness.  Apparently this is one of the greatest lessons I need to learn in my lifetime. In the past few years, I've been given the opportunity to work through some profound hurt and betrayal.  In the process, I've found my "recipe" for forgiveness.  Here it is: 

1. Find a lesson in the painful experience; 
2. Experience gratitude for this lesson; 
3. Translate that gratitude into an appreciation, for some aspect (no matter how small or seemingly insignificant) of the person to be forgiven; and
4. Eventually, (not always a quick process for me,) the appreciation leads to compassion which releases me from the anger and resentment I was holding onto.

Some things I've discovered along the way:

• In my closest relationships, I need to "rinse and repeat."  The closer we are, the more opportunities for hurt.  The more I use this process, the less baggage I'm holding.
• Forgive and forget?  I do not forget. If I forget, I've lost the lesson and I'm doomed to repeat it.  It is possible for me to forgive and love someone, while recognizing behaviors that don't work for me.  This allows me to choose if and when I can safely engage again.
• I can't take it personally when others won't forgive me.  We all learn at our own pace.  I am choosing to heal and grow.
• If I can express my appreciation and compassion TO the person I am forgiving it increases my liberation exponentially.

If you follow my blog, you are familiar with my history and how I am working to find peace with my birth family.  The Christmas season is challenging because my husband, children and I are no longer part of that family.  Last week I was inspired to write some "poetry" (and I use that term loosely!) to my Dad.  I expressed appreciation for some of the good times I could recall with him.  It felt good to write; I was certainly seeking a deeper level of peace for myself but I truly hoped it would bring him joy as well.  The poem is below although the formatting doesn't work here.  (It may also help you to understand that my Dad drove an LP gas truck for years and that Amanda is a firetruck, purchased by the City of Washington, Missouri in 1946 with funds willed to the City by Amanda Kloentrup.  "Miss Amanda Kloentrup" was painted on the front bumper of the firetruck which remained in service until the early '70s....1973 I think?)

My best memories of you involve a truck, Dad. I thought I'd share some of them....

A Truck

When I was young, there were some very special days.

A big surprise!  I’d get to ride along with you in The Truck!

Into the cab of the big gas truck I’d climb.

In the passenger seat I’d ride, feeling special, chosen to share time with you.

All the day, on what must have been your longest routes, the powerful truck carried us.

I can still recall the smell of the cab, the metal folder that held your receipts, the rumble of the seat beneath me as you changed the gears with ease.

Excitedly, you took me places I had never been and I can’t even say where.

Once we stopped at Cuivre River and had a picnic lunch; a fairy tale to have all your attention and see the places you went to work each day.

Each trip ended the same way, with a trip to Riecher’s Station.

I’d get to choose some candy, like Kentucky Mints.

You’d have a bag of peanuts, the dancing peanut, with monocle and top hat, smiling at me.

There was always a fire truck in your life.

The days of Amanda were the best.

It was a tiny firehouse, there was a basement that seemed scary to me, but I think that’s where the sodas came from???  so it was worth the trip down there after all.

There was a wonderful heater upstairs.  I felt so cozy and warm in the cold, damp garage when that furnace would run.  Do I remember seeing the flames from a grill in the front?

Was there a metal plate in the concrete floor?  Through a small hole in that plate I think I could peek into the basement?  It was so long ago.

Then came the Mack, the bulldog Mack firetruck.  

I was jealous of that truck!  From my 9 year old perspective, it stole you from me every Sunday when you worked on the blueprints and plans.

But we got to ride first, mom made sure of that.

I remember being in the “new” firehouse with you, being charged with cleaning the truck windows.

Apparently my childhood Windex skills couldn’t measure up and you had to redo my work.

Guess what?  I still don’t use Windex.

I hope by now the fire department has discovered SPRAYWAY, World’s Best Glass Cleaner

And that 10 year-olds aren’t the best window washers. Ha ha!

It is fitting that I have a photo of you and Claire in your antique fire truck on my wall.

As time went on you were able to have your very own big red truck.

I recall two days distinctly,  when you drove and I rode along.

One day we drove in Washington.  To and from where I do not recall.

We spoke honestly and sincerely.

You expressed gratitude for me getting you started in “the business.”

You also expressed regret that you couldn’t have paid for my college.

Few things in life have brought me greater joy

than watching your quality of life improve as the business grew.

A child will ALWAYS seek the parent’s approval.

Simply hearing you acknowledge my efforts was wonderful.

I was happy to have made a difference.

As far as my college tuition,

Paying my own way made me who I am today.

Everything happens for a reason.

Each experience in life offers a lesson.

I learned discernment; the difference between  “want” and “need”

in those years when I wrote a check to MOHELA each month.

I was blessed to be able to write those checks and grateful I could do so.

Finally, there was the day we moved to Westwood.

You were supposed to wait at the house for Laclede Gas.

You ended up schlepping who knows how many loads for us in your big red truck;

the moving company underestimated the volume of our earthly possessions.

I rode with you.  

Your truck carried tons of cargo that day, but the heaviest load was my heart.

I had to be brave for my girls; in your truck I could cry as the quicksand of life shifted beneath me.

Life had thrown David and me a curve ball.

Everything we’d planned and worked for seemed null and void.  

Our daughters’ hearts were broken.

We were doing what we had to do, like it or not.

Moving into a neighborhood where we didn’t fit in,

Paying an obscene mortgage for a home we didn’t really like,

so that our beautiful, brilliant girls could make the most of their talents.

We’d do it again, no doubt.

But, the bright spot in that day came with you.

When the last box was off the truck, we took a rest.

Do you remember?

My beloved, crazy realtor stopped by with a 6 pack to say WELCOME TO LADUE!

We sat in the kitchen.  Surrounded by towers of boxes that contained our disheveled lives.

What did we do?  We got our priorities straight.

We found a bottle opener and cracked open some beers.

Then it seemed like life would go on, in our own way, on our own terms, in this foreign land.

We had so much work ahead, but

we took the time to celebrate the end of one way of life and the beginning of another.

I believe you were sitting on the only available “chair;”

a cooler holding the sadly random contents of our fridge.

We laughed among the chaos and disorder of our lives.

I was so glad you were there.

With your truck.

I wish I could ride again,

just the two of us in your truck.

That environment seems like sacred ground to me.

Safe and private, it seems to draw out the best of times.

Thank you for those times.

I love you!

I signed the letter and mailed it with no expectations.

Since I started my blog I've shared my history, struggles, triumphs and crazy "stuff" from the Universe.  Through my writing you've witnessed much of my "healing journey," and you know my eyes have been opened to much beyond this physical world.  You know I'm searching for a way to get back to that experience of Oneness I found in my near death experience; I'm walking paths I would have once deemed "for crazies only!"  One path led me to understand that our souls try to communicate with us through our dreams.  I figured this is a pretty important resource so I started journaling my dreams.  After studying with some amazing teachers, I've gotten pretty good at interpreting my own dreams and in my coaching practice, I am helping others interpret theirs as well.

The night I was sure my Dad received the letter, I had a dream.  I could only recall a tiny fragment of the dream, but it is said you recall what is important so I interpreted it as always. 

Here is my dream:

David (my husband) gave me a gift of a BEAUTIFUL necklace; like none I've ever seen.  It was a very modern choker made of layers of shiny, thick, silver links.  From the choker dropped an antique heart locket.  The locket had a beautiful, design engraved in it.  It came with a tiny piece of silver, also in the shape of a heart, with a lengthy serial number etched in it.  I don't recall the number but I do know "23" was part of the sequence of numbers.

This might seem inconsequential but this dream fragment is rich in valuable symbols:

David, my spouse, represents the aspect of me that is committed to wholeness. This is the part of me that knows the importance of aligning my conscious mind with my subconscious "essence" in order to fulfill my purpose in life. 

The necklace was a gift.   A gift that is received is some value that is not of my effort; it is some "natural talent" possessed when I came into this world.  I believe my gift is writing.

Jewelry is the value I hold in how I express myself to others.  The way I express myself to others makes a difference in my life and theirs.  The necklace was exquisitely beautiful; I place great value on the way I express myself to others.

Silver represents purity.  The expression was pure; in this case pure of heart!  My only desire in writing the poem was to create peace and perhaps joy.

Heart shape can represents many things: life, soul, the essence of a person, love compassion, caring.

Antiques are longstanding ideas which have great value.  Ideas of enduring value promote soul growth.  In a dream, an antique shows an understanding you possess that is valuable to your soul.  I believe the antique nature of the locket represents my understanding of the value of forgiveness.

Locket represents a long lasting relationship.  My relationship with my father is the second longest of my life.

Serial number is a unique means of identification.  I wish I could recall all the digits, but those of you who know me know that 23 is my "special number."

So what does this feedback mean?

I believe my soul is telling me that the poem I sent was a big step for me in my journey of forgiveness.  I'm aligning my conscious acts with my soul's purpose.  With pure intention, I used my writing skills to express love to my aging father in a unique way, with sentiment that only I am capable of conveying.  I know the value of forgiveness.

So I will continue looking for opportunities to forgive.  It feels good, it's getting easier for me with all this practice and besides, my soul approves!

Epilogue:

I finished writing this post this afternoon.  I thought maybe it didn't have as much "zing" as some of my other posts.  Insecurities set in and I thought maybe nobody would be interested in reading it.  I decided it wasn't worth posting and when my daughter invited me to see a movie with her, I said sure, why not?

We saw the film Carol.  Imagine my surprise when I saw, on Cate Blanchett's wrist, a bracelet that looked EXACTLY like the choker in my dream.  (Well the bracelet was gold, my choker was silver.)  I took this as a sign from the Universe that I needed to post what I'd written.  

Please forgive typos and grammatical errors.  This writing comes in a flow from the heart and I admit, I am not perfect!

"YIPPEE"

Have you ever felt absolutely compelled to do something that was completely out of character?  Something so far out of your comfort zone you felt anxiety, yet in your heart center, there was complete calm and certainty?  If you followed your heart, how'd that turn out for you?  My guess is you're glad you did it and I hope you found that reaching, stepping beyond the boundaries you have set for yourself, was worth it.  Most of the time, I answer this question with "Yeah, I'm glad I did that!"  This is about a time, I answered "Oh HELL YEAH!  I'm SO glad I did that!!" and apparently, my invisible support team was glad I did it too.

I've been on a quest for nearly four years, trying to find a way to help others understand what I "learned" through my near death experience (NDE.)  I read countless books on psychology, spirituality, religion, mental illness and the process of recovering from trauma.  I began studying metaphysics, took a psychology class, started this blog, and took the Martha Beck Life Coach Training course.  I "graduated" from the 10 month course in July, with a handful of potential clients and began to wonder.....Now what?  How can I share what's been given to me?

Always looking for ways to continue my own healing process, earlier this summer, I contacted a support group I found on Meetup.  As mentioned in my last post, I was asked to lead the group.  Seeing that this could be an avenue to share, I accepted the "position" of group leader but not without reservation.  For one who generally attempts to fly under the radar, is uncomfortable being the center of attention and has absolutely no public speaking skills, this decision stirred up myriad feelings of inadequacy.  Oh my gosh!  What have I done?

I quickly busied myself with the logistics of procuring a meeting location, extending the membership of the group within Meetup (committed to SIX months!  Such an optimist!) and creating an agenda I hoped would steer us in a positive direction.  The morning of the meeting, I woke up resigned to the fact that I'd done all I could, the rest was in the hands of fate.

I've always been one to look at numbers.  Since I was a kid, even before my first DIGITAL (wooooah! dating myself here!) clock, I saw patterns in numbers and often thought "How cool is that?!"  My birthday is July 22.  Somehow the fact that I had two 2s made me feel special.  When I'd catch the clock at 12:34, that was "neat," or those special "repeaters" like 5:55?  As my daughter would say "Make a wish!"  There's always been something special about numbers for me but I didn't think much about it until after my NDE.  Now I pay close attention because I have learned they are big signs for me.

Back to the morning of the meeting.....  I got in my car to go to work and the odometer read 94,000 miles.  The fact that it was an even number, with ALL those zeros made me smile.  When I checked the numerology, how this number "boils down," it meant "stability" and all those zeros add power to the stability.  I thought "I am on solid ground here, I've got this under control."  That was comforting to me and I went on with my work day, preparing to be audited by Homeland Security.  (Does this seem funny to anybody else?)

A little back ground info: my number is 23.  When I am being supported "from beyond" I will see a 23 somewhere.  There is numerological significance to this number, but I will simply share two significant points of how this number has shown up in my life.  Remember, I didn't make this connection in any way, until 4 years ago.  

• A relationship of epic proportions in my life began on October 23; see my February 27, 2014 blog post for more details.  This would be 10/23.  
• My oldest daughter was born at 10:23 a.m.  She has been one of my best mirrors, challenging me to question many beliefs I've held for a lifetime.

So, as I worked over my Site Security Plan in Sauget all day, it was no surprise to me that I saw the 23rd minute of nearly every hour I worked in the office.  I am not a clock watcher by any means, it just happened that I would, in glancing, catch the sight of this number on my desk clock or in the corner of my computer screen.  Each time, I felt a sense of gratitude for whomever, whatever, was supporting me and telling me so.

I worked all day, drove home, grabbed a bite to eat, took a deep breath and got into my car to head to Chesterfield for the meeting.  I turn the key and the dashboard lit up.  I saw that the trip odometer read 123.0 miles.  I simultaneously laughed out loud and got tears in my eyes.  I texted David at 5:06, knowing he would appreciate the significance.

I drove to the library in Chesterfield and found a "Paddock Spot" in the parking lot.  While this term is gaining nationwide popularity, you may not be familiar with it.  (See my April 2014 blog post; the "inside joke" texted to me on Devil's Bridge in Sedona was a friend telling me about a Paddock Spot at the airport.)  My husband, David, is the Patron Saint of those who seek front row parking, especially when the lot is completely full.  Arriving at Sea World San Diego after the park is already open?  No problem, just pull right into the front row.  If we'd parked any closer, we'd have been in the tank with Shamu.  Going to the area's busiest mall on Christmas Eve?  We don't park a mile away or use valet service.  No, we just pull into the spot next to those reserved for handicapped parking, right by the door.  And so, it seemed fitting that when I arrived at the library for my meeting, I would park right next to the door; the closest spot, bar none.  At 5:32; I texted David, knowing he'd laugh.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  I felt grateful for having made it this far on my journey. I asked for the grace and wisdom to be what these people need in their lives at this time.   I gathered my phone, my purse, my tote bag, my water bottle and I looked up, out the windshield, for the first time since I'd backed into the parking spot.  There, in front of me, was a personalized license plate, on the tiniest, bright, electric-blue car, right smack in front of me that read: "YIPPEE."  And then I knew it with every fiber in my body.  "I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing, even though I have no idea what I'm doing."  With tears in my eyes, I texted Dave at 5:35 and went into the library.

The meeting went better than I could have ever possibly anticipated.  Twelve brave souls sat as compassionate witnesses to the others' suffering.  Twelve of us validated for one another, thoughts that the average person cannot comprehend.  There was no common denominator of gender, age, race, or even personality.  We were a mixed bag of a group, but by the end of the evening, everyone shared their "story" and I believe felt a sense of kinship that can only be formed by those who have walked through the same ring of fire.

After the meeting, driving home, I felt a sense of accomplishment.  I'd let go of any expectations of how the evening would go, I was present and did what seemed to come naturally and it was a success.  Everyone agreed this was worth doing on a routine basis.  I felt strong and confident.  I can do this!

I went to bed, feeling a strange mix of energy and exhaustion.  I woke up at 2:00 a.m. and could not get back to sleep.  This is not unusual for me; I often get by on 4 hours of sleep, so I decided to get up and do some writing.  Expecting to be up for the day, I was surprised when I suddenly felt exhausted again @ 4:30 a.m.  I did not want to wake David up, so I went to sleep on the couch.

I had a weird dream and woke up quite startled.  I was confused, in a very strange sort of "foggy" state.  Where am I??  Sitting up, I wondered about the time.  As I regained some semblance of consciousness, I wondered if Dave might be late for work.  Normally, I would run around frantically, making sure everyone was awake and getting the dogs out, etc.  Oddly, I just couldn't get up.  I had to put my head back on the pillow.  Then I closed my eyes and had a wonderful vision.  It was not a dream; I focused intently, trying to bring it into sharper focus.  Everything was black, with the exception of a "hole" in the center of my field of vision.  The hole seemed to be about the size of a quarter, but then it grew a bit.  At first I could see a kaleidoscope of colors; yellow and orange shapes swirling.  They were leaves.  Fall colored leaves, swirling and blowing.  Then I saw a tree branch, still within this hole.  The branch moved in a wind, the fall leaves moving and some blowing away, behind the black screen that obscured all but the viewing hole.  Then it was gone.  Poof.  Back to the same "stuff" I see when I close my eyes...just kinda "nothing."

I thought about this for a while, excited and amazed but still very "foggy."  As excited as I was, I fell back asleep and had two "normal" dreams before waking enough to actually get up and get things "going" in the household.  I realized then that all of this happened in under an hour.  Wow.

I have learned (from a master) the art of dream interpretation.  My dreams can be a report card or a treasure map for me.  The dreams I had that morning were a report card, filled with new and profoundly rich symbols telling me that I am gaining a conscious awareness of my soul's purpose for existence.  There's no doubt in my mind that my soul was reaching out in a BIG way, through these dreams, telling me I'm on the right path.

Even more significant for me, was the interpretation of that morning's vision.  This is what I believe the vision was telling me:

• The wind signified the movement of higher intelligence acting upon my mind through prana or energy.  This represents the thoughts that brought me peace as I saw all the "signs" leading up to my meeting.
• The autumn scene represented the completion of creation.  "The wisdom produced from previous life experiences and understandings; the culmination of maturity and the preparation for a new cycle of growth."  This (group work) is what I've been seeking, this is how I can put my "gifts" to use.
• The black screen, covering most of the "scene" tells me I am just getting a glimpse of what is to come.  More will be revealed to me if I keep working toward my goal.

I've long had the desire to share what I've been given.  Figuring out HOW to share has been the tricky part, mostly because it involved understanding MYSELF.  Four years ago, I had no idea who I was, but I've been finding pieces of my life puzzle along this crazy path and the picture is becoming clearer.  These signs, symbols, messages and visions "from beyond" are just part of my puzzle.  It's a sort of game and when I just play along, without struggle or expectation, it's fun and exciting!  YIPPEE!!!

Please forgive typos and grammatical errors.  This writing comes in a flow from the heart and I admit, I am not perfect!

Post Script:

When I was writing this post, I wished for a photo to convey the sentiment of YIPPEE.  One hour later, at an estate sale, what are the odds I found this on the front door?

Thinking my life is magical!

Where the wind blows.......

I've recently returned from nearly two weeks in Okinawa, Japan.  Slowly but surely, my days and nights are realigning with my St. Louis, MO time zone but at 2:00 a.m., (4:00 p.m. in Okinawa) I woke up with the desire to post, for the first time in many months.

Nearly one year ago, on my 50th birthday, I signed up for the Martha Beck Life Coach Training program.  The Universe had been sending me all sorts of messages that I should help others with my, as Martha Beck puts it, "hell and back" story.  Her program seemed the perfect fit so I signed up, put my heart and soul into it and "graduated" Monday of this week.

A lot of things happened along the way.  Pushing the limits of my comfort zone on a weekly (if not daily!) basis, I learned a lot about myself.  Martha's program requires that we "live it to give it."  I dug deep and with the help of a small circle of Martha Beck cadet friends, gathering by conference call each Wednesday, I began to uncover beliefs that were standing between me and the life I want to live.  We "Wednesday Circle Ladies" practiced our skills on each other, working through the routine challenges of life and the deeper, emotional debris dredged up in the natural course of this life changing program.  Very special bonds were created within our little group over the 10 month course of this program.  We met face-to-face for the first time in California, at a Martha Beck Meet 'n Greet this May.  Here we are on the pier....Shell Beach, I think it was?

As I worked so hard to learn the tools, making time for class time, homework and practice while being a mom with a "career," I got stressed out.  I thought I wasn't getting enough practice, I was neglecting my family, I didn't "get" all the tools.  I need hours of work with paying clients in order to apply for certification; somehow, the people who used to randomly show up on my doorstep asking me to help solve their problems had stopped knocking.  How will I ever get certified?!  Then there is the whole "business" aspect that is foreign and frightening for me....client intake forms to be reviewed by an attorney?  LLC or Inc.?  Business banking, taxes, Paypal or Square? I don't know how to set up a website?!  Oh my gosh, how am I ever going to make this work?  I was really getting myself worked up.

The magic seemed to vanish.  The synchronicities and crazy experiences that pointed me in this direction in the first place had pretty much stopped.  Down on myself for not having all the answers, disappointed that I was not making as much progress as I wanted, my energy level plummeted.  Martha says our "work" should feel like play.  We should play until we're tired, and then rest until we feel like playing again.  Well, I KNEW this, but I have to be the over-achiever in all things!  Surely if I just worked a little harder, I'd find my clients and the business stuff would finally make sense to me.  So I kept pushing...and the Universe just pushed back.  I was swimming upstream.

Shortly after this picture was taken, one daughter came home from college and the other was wrapping up the school year with all of the year-end activities that entails; we took a much needed family vacation and summer kicked into high gear.   There was less time than ever to work on my new path in life.  I didn't "give up," but I realized I had the choice to either continue pursuing things in a frustrating manner or just accept what was at hand and enjoy the time with my family while I had the opportunity.  So, I sort of put my Martha class on the shelf.  I listened in on the conference calls from the beach house with a drink in my hand, or slept through them entirely while I was in Japan.  I wasn't able to finish my homework and I couldn't make the Wednesday calls anymore either.....and I finally stopped beating myself up about it.  I let it go.

When I left for Japan, I took absolutely nothing of "educational value."  I took a little book my daughter loaned me.  I read for fun, slept until I felt like getting up and played my days away, exploring what Japan had to offer me with no expectations whatsoever.  I gave no thought to the new "business" I am trying to create.  Then a funny thing happened.  Just as I'd experienced before this program began, when I was absolutely relaxed and had no expectations for the outcome to any situation, the magic started happening again.  

Some time ago, I'd reached out to the St. Louis Narcissistic Abuse Support Group, hoping to become a member.  A closed group, it requires a submission requesting membership.  I'd written a short summary of "my story" and submitted it but I hadn't received a response.  When I'd completely forgotten about the group, I received a message asking me if I'd like to lead the group.  While in Japan, I spent time conversing with the current group leader and it seems my desire to help others might be fulfilled in some ways with this group.  I didn't see THAT coming!

I keep a rolling list of ten things that I want in life.  One of the items on my current list is to restore every relationship to the best it can possibly be.  While in Japan, I received a Facebook friend request from my first childhood friend, Barb.  I've known her as long as I can remember; we grew up and went away to college together.  Our friendship fell apart with the pitfalls of being college roommates.  We parted ways in 1982.  I always felt a sense of responsibility for my immaturity that did not support our friendship.  When I received her friend request, I was excited to connect with her again, but I felt the need to apologize, very deeply and humbly, for the mistakes I'd made as a thoughtless teenager.  I sent a private message and it seems we've both been missing each other all these years.  Bygones are bygones and we are planning a reunion that will no doubt be filled with lots of laughter and probably some tears.  The restoration of this relationship has brought me great joy and is a blessing I could not have planned.  The Universe is helping me fulfill my desires, I just needed to relax and let "life take its course" without worrying about HOW I could make it happen.

Also on my list of "ten things" is to travel to exotic places.  Japan is exotic to me and I believe the Universe (working through David!) has filled another order for me.  On our last night in Okinawa, we had the pleasure of making friends with Takehiro and Miho, (pictured below, just before saying KANPAI! with our Orion beers.)  It was an unexpected introduction that led to wonderful discussions about our different-yet-the-same lives, cultures and love for each others' countries.  These remarkable connections seem to happen when least expected.  I can't make them happen or force them, they just come when I am relaxed and in the flow of life.

During our last days on Okinawa, there was a typhoon.  I love "bad" weather, so this was a treat for me.  The wind was really amazing, something I'd never experienced.  I got out and "played" in the wind with my umbrella; the wind tossing me around like a rag doll.  I went wherever it carried me, not sure where I'd end up.  Playing in the strong winds brought me sheer joy and uncontrollable laughter.  This is me throwing caution, literally, to the wind:

I think this is a metaphor for how I need to be living my life.  There's no sense in fighting life or trying to push my agenda.  I can just enjoy the ride, see where the wind blows me and trust that I will always be exactly where I need to be.

Please forgive typos and grammatical errors.  This writing comes in a flow from the heart and I admit, I am not perfect!

Wake Up! There's a Reason You Can't Sleep!

John Mellencamp.......  I've been a fan since 1979 when he was John Cougar.  A freshman in high school, I bought his self-titled album with my babysitting money for the hit song, I Need a Lover.   Always one to take the path less traveled, the non-charting songs on the album quickly gained favor with me over the popular song getting airplay.  Maybe it was the old soul in me, but even at the age of 15, The Great Midwest felt truthful to me.

Well, I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth

So I can't talk about the big city hi-life

You wanna talk about bein' bored and runnin'

Away from yourself, hell, I can talk to you all night

And they call this the Great Midwest

Where livin' is just gettin' by

And people, they trade in their happiness

For a smokestack, a big money deal in the sky

John matured as an artist and I remained a big fan.  Through the years when he struggled to remain true to his essential self, the record companies trying to mold him into who they wanted him to be, he managed to impart soul-felt lyrics to the music that was demanded of him.  Scarecrow, admittedly one of my least favorite of his albums, still holds sacred space on my shelf for lyrics probably overlooked by the masses.  The song Minutes to Memories came to me as I meditated on putting my feelings into words for this post.

The old man kept talking 'bout his life and his times

He fell asleep with his head against the window

He said an honest man's pillow is his peace of mind

This world offers riches and riches will grow wings

I don't take stock in those uncertain things

"...an honest man's pillow is his peace of mind..."   As a much younger single woman, with my own apartment in "the big city," juggling boyfriends and trying to decide which dance club to hit on Saturday night, I sang these lyrics, never considering their meaning.....not even while lying awake in the week hours of the night as a chronic insomniac.

Life was going as it "should" for a 20-something in the '80's.  I'd worked hard for a challenging college degree, had a career in the field of my choice, was making good money, had my own apartment and was on my way to being married.  But meeting all the requisite "shoulds" for an "'80's lady" was about as far out of alignment as possible with my true Self.  Most nights, I was awake struggling to put my finger on what was troubling me.  In retrospect, it was my soul screaming YOU ARE ABOUT TO MARRY THE WRONG MAN!  My true soul mate, a "bad boy" with a devil-may-care approach to life had captured my heart but I couldn't imagine him in the future I'd carefully orchestrated in my mind. Since I couldn't understand what my heart was saying in those long, sleepless nights, my Higher Self took action and drastically changed the course of my life. (Looong story for another day....)   My plans were crushed and I was brought to my knees, humbled as never before.  Thank God for small favors....but I still hadn't learned to listen to my heart.

Decades passed and life unfolded with beauty I could not have foreseen.  The "bad boy" became my husband, our love growing stronger with the years.   My children....I couldn't ask for more than the two beautiful babies who have grown into amazing young women.  By all accounts my life was a dream and I was grateful for every moment with the beautiful family I'd been blessed with.  Still, I was an insomniac.  

I tried everything.  Going to bed at the same time every night.  No watching TV before bed.   Eliminating caffeine.  No exercising or eating before bed.  Keeping the bedroom cool and dark.  Melatonin.  Lunesta.  Ambien.  None of this worked for me.  I was operating in a state of sleep deprivation.  I couldn't focus, my memory was shot.  Simultaneously and not coincidentally, forces outside the boundaries of my happy little family were becoming unmanageable for me.  In 2010, an anxiety attack presenting symptoms of a heart attack got my attention very quickly.  

"...an honest man's pillow is his peace of mind..."   You can't sleep, the doctor mused.  Is something bothering you?  Are you worried about something?  Is something on your mind?  No, not especially.  Everybody has problems; I didn't see myself as extraordinarily burdened, I just couldn't sleep!  Yet, a few razor sharp questions, wielded as skillfully as a surgeon's scalpel, began to expose lies I'd been telling myself.  There were many things bothering me to a great extent but I'd buried my anger to keep "peace" in certain relationships.  Denying my emotions had created a giant ball of stress which was more than my body could handle.  It was reacting in a violent way to get my attention.  How in the world could I possibly control my stress level?!  These problems, insomnia included, seemed beyond my control.  I couldn't see that I'd created these problems all by myself.  I'd always had choices and I'd chosen to create a prison for myself constructed of "have to's" and "shoulds."

Aside: For those unfamiliar with my story, you may like to read previous posts, but here is a condensed version for purposes of this post.  In 2011, I reached a breaking point.  I was brutally honest with my father about my feelings and asked for changes to create a healthier environment for me and my children.  My husband, children and I were quickly disowned.  My mother professed in front of extended family, with the subtlety of a flame thrower, that I'd ruined her "entire life," that I needed a psychiatrist and a few other brutally honest insights she'd been harboring all of MY life.  I went into a literal state shock, had a near death experience and came back with a much clearer understanding of who I am.

Ever since my NDE, I sleep like a rock.  "...an honest man's pillow is his peace of mind..."  Now I understand.  There is no peace of mind when you disown your Self.   For 47 years I'd sought validation from everyone around me and society in general.  When I finally stood up for myself and honored my truth I found that pillow called peace of mind and sleep came naturally.  Insomnia was a thing of the past.

If I have a restless night now, I generally understand how I've sabotaged myself with too much caffeine or a poorly timed nap.  If I wake up in the middle of the night, I recall the rules for insomniacs...I "Don't look at the clock" and "Don't get up to play on the computer/phone" to kill the time, etc.  

So, on December 9th, I went to bed as usual.  After a busy and productive day, exhausted, I was asleep moments after my head hit the pillow.  My last thoughts were of my daughter's arrival for Christmas break, scheduled for the following morning.  In a matter of hours, the shuttle would arrive at her dorm and she'd start the 900 mile journey back home to Saint Louis.  Getting an early start on the east coast, I'd be picking her up from the airport at 9:30 a.m.

I woke up very early, tossing and turning.  I fought the urge for a long time but eventually checked the clock.  It was about  12:30 a.m.  This was odd, but I chalked it up to excitement about my daughter coming home.  I was awake for quite some time; my tricks for quieting the mind just weren't working.  Eventually I fell back to sleep.  

Again I awoke.  This was frustrating!  I needed to get my sleep so I could accomplish everything on the calendar PLUS get my daughter home from the airport.  I wanted to spend the day enjoying her company.  I lay in bed forcing myself not to look at the clock.  I had the thought that I should get up and text my daughter, tell her to be safe and have a great trip home.  No.  If I got on the phone, I'd surely be up all night......text her......  No.  I need to sleep........text her.......No, I must not do that.......text her......Oh, ALRIGHT!  I can't stand it, I WILL text her!  

I got up out of bed and grabbed my phone.  There was a text waiting for me.  Perhaps she'd texted to say she was packed and waiting in the dorm lobby?!  No.....the text wasn't from her.  It was from Southwest Airlines.  Her flight had been CANCELED!  Oh my gosh!  What time is it?!  2:33 a.m.  The shuttle would be arriving at her dorm in 27 minutes..... and she had no flight!

I called her, leaving a message asking if she knew her flight had been canceled.  Scrambling to my computer, I waited for what seemed an eternity for it to "wake up."   Eventually I was able to find a suitable flight, about an hour earlier than first planned but could she make it?  Finally, I reached her by phone.  The flight cancellation notification from Southwest had not come through to her....yes she could make the earlier flight.  I clicked to reserve the ticket and within minutes she was on the shuttle as though her plans had never changed.  All was right with the world!

There is no doubt in my mind that an extraordinary force woke me that morning and insisted I get my phone.  Was it my intuition?  My Guardian Angel?  Spirit Guides?  My Grandma who died 13 years ago that very day?  Someday I hope to be able to discern such things.  In any case, without that urging, my daughter may have spent the day the Philadelphia airport rather than surprising her sister at the high school for lunch.  I know she could have, and will no doubt one day have to work through hiccups like these on her own, but there's plenty of time for that.  As a mother, I just want to make life easier for my children and this opportunity to help my daughter was surely a gift.  I felt a sense of tremendous gratitude to whatever benevolent force intervened that morning.  I believe that gratitude contains facets of recognition and acknowledgement and I am happy to tip my hat to the Universe for its blessings here in my blog.

In the early days of my awakening, I had profound experiences.  They definitely got my attention and lead me to the seeker's path.  As I've grown in my spirituality, I recognize that there have always been day-to-day miracles I may have overlooked.  While I love those crazy experiences that prompt me to say "You're NEVER going to believe what happened to me!!," it is in recognizing the "ordinary miracles" that I can cultivate greater peace of mind on a daily basis.  These small reminders of the presence of the Divine in my life are gifts that encourage me to continue on my journey.  As I share my gifted experiences with you, I hope that you may, in turn, recognize your own gifts from the Divine.  I would be honored if you would share your gifted experiences in the comments section below.

Emmanuel means "God is with us."  During this Holiday season, I wish you endless blessings of peace, joy, and love and may you know that Emmanuel!

This post is dedicated to my sister-in-law, Jill, who is spending her fifth Christmas in Heaven.  She was the greatest Mellencamp fan and Christmas tree decorator who ever lived.  I'll have a Bloody Mary for you on Christmas, Jill!

Please forgive typos and grammatical errors.  This writing comes in a flow from the heart and I admit, I am not perfect!

The Ties That Bind

Depression.  I struggled with this disease for 47 years; this black hole that would come out of nowhere to swallow my world.  Under the best of circumstances, there was a problem to be solved, a reason, I'd think, for being so sad.  Working feverishly toward a solution gave me a focal point outside of my gloom and hope that I could rid myself of this monster once and for all if I just worked hard enough.  More often than not, the darkness would come without rhyme or reason.  All logic failing me, I would ride out the weeks, desperately awaiting the random day I would awake with a sense of lightness and joy in my heart again.

My near death experience ended my battle with depression.  The melancholy days were over.  Then came grieving the loss of my family and yes, therapy was painful.  However, this was clean pain, pain with a purpose.  Handled properly, this transformative pain brings us closer to the truth of who we are and we need this pain if change and growth are ever to occur.  I've learned to accept clean pain and sometimes, I can even be grateful for it in the midst of the struggles.

After 3 years of living with simple, clean pain, depression came creeping in a few weeks ago.  I found myself trying to explain the pain away.  We have had no shortage of curve balls recently and I tried to attribute the darkness to them, but in my heart I knew this was something greater than the sum of all my current tribulations.  I was heading slowly downhill, no matter how many spiritual tools I pulled out of my trick bag.  Panic was setting in.

Today I hit a low point.  I attended a conference call at noon.  While participating, I felt wave after wave of sadness washing through me.  I began to weep uncontrollably as soon as the call ended.  As depressed as I've ever been, I have never experienced anything like this.  At 2:53 p.m. I texted a friend and cancelled our meeting.  I told her I was in a hole of hell I hadn't seen in a long time.  I could not subject her to this.  I collapsed on the couch and continued sobbing.  I wondered, "What is happening to me?"  "WHY?!?!" and  "Is this the point when you call 911?"  At 3:06 p.m., my father called.  Being persona non grata, this alone shocked me out of my despair.  He called to say my Aunt Jane had passed away just moments after noon today.  Hearing this news made everything crystal clear and the gloom very quickly dissipated, giving way to joy.

While I am no longer a part of the family on a physical plane, there are ties that unconsciously bind us on an emotional level.  As an unconscious witness, I was feeling all the pain and anguish of a family going through one of the most difficult experiences in life.  With awareness, I was able to separate myself from the unconscious pain and begin my grieving process for the loss of an Aunt whom I dearly loved.  For myself, I am sad that I will never again get to taste one of Aunt Jane's delicious hams, see her lovely smile (always with a pretty shade of pink lipstick!) or hear her beautiful laughter. I couldn't be sad for long though.  I know what Aunt Jane is experiencing now.  She is one with the fabric of the Universe, with her Creator; she is experiencing "the peace that passeth understanding" and she is still with us even if we can't see her.  She is a beautiful soul I am fortunate to have known on this physical plane and I am celebrating for the peace, love and joy of Christ consciousness that she now enjoys.

I love you, Aunt Jane! 

Please forgive typos and grammatical errors.  This writing comes in a flow from the heart and I admit, I am not perfect!

Encouragement from Beyond

Since my near death experience (NDE,) I've encountered many forks in the road.  I am getting better at recognizing opportunities where I can be a better human being, or simply react out of habit or fear.  As Carolyn Myss said "Every second offers a choice to either channel grace or withhold it."  I do my very best to choose love and kindness these days, but sometimes fear gets the best of me and I react out of habit without considering alternative behaviors.  

I think it is funny that I am no longer afraid of death itself, but "lesser" fears can reduce me to an unconscious state where the fight or flight instinct kicks in.  One of my greatest challenges is to overcome this reactive fear.  The more practice I am afforded, the more I find I am able to choose the highest road I can imagine.

Sometimes the high road isn't so obvious to me.  Being nothing if not an over-analyzer, I can become paralyzed by the fear of making the wrong choice, dwelling on options for far too long.  Lately, I've been getting outside assistance, in ways that seem magical to me.  These experiences gently guided me in the direction of my heart when my head was busy spinning in circles of fear.

I've been invited to a few extended family events since my NDE.  [If you're new to my blog, I am no longer a part of my birth family since my NDE.]  It was always with sadness that I declined the invitations, but I didn't want another family event, especially a beautiful wedding, marred by ugliness.  

When my favorite uncle turned 70, I received an invitation to his party on July 27th, 2013.  I felt a strong urge to attend but this was not without trepidation.  I contacted a sympathetic cousin for help.  She agreed to notify me by text on the day of the party as soon as "the coast was clear."   I thought it over and eventually RSVP'd; David and I would attend.  As soon as I committed to this decision, I was overwhelmed with fear.  This was the first time I'd see most of these family members since my NDE.  What if they believed the ugly things being said about me?  Would they be mean-spirited?  More importantly, would caring family members be subject to the passive aggression that hometown friends were experiencing from my "family?"  What if?  What if?  What if?

The "Birthday Uncle" had been married to my mother's youngest sister, who died very young and suddenly.  I'd always felt very close to her, a special bond that was felt but never spoken.  On July 16, 2013, my Aunt came to me in a dream I will never forget.  The quality of the dream was vastly different from my "normal" dreams.  In this dream, there was nothing but white.  She appeared to me out of nowhere, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, casual as always, as if she were heading to the barn to feed her horses.  She looked so happy and gave me one of her big, beautiful, heartwarming smiles; there was a twinkle in her eyes I'd seen many times. Then she hugged me tightly and I understood; she was telling me to go the party..... and then she vanished.  I woke up with a tremendous sense of peace.  This was my first visitation dream.

What is a visitation dream?  There are several characteristics.  If you have to ask if it was a visitation, it probably wasn't.  Visitation dreams feel incredibly real and because they are so vivid you will likely remember them for the rest of your life.  The person who appears will be healthy and always behave in a loving manner. Communications are very clear and generally, telepathic. Most messages conveyed in a visitation dream are those of reassurance.  When awakening from a visitation dream, the dreamer will be filled with a sense of peace. Check, check check!

I attended the party and was welcomed by everyone.  There were lots of hugs.  I shed quite a few tears.  I don't know if my relatives will ever understand how relieved I was to know that they do not judge me harshly.  I was happy I took the "high road" which boosted my confidence tremendously.  Rather than avoiding this opportunity for interaction, I'd faced my fears.  With a pat on the back from my beautiful, loving Aunt, I'd climbed to higher level of awareness.

On September 12, 2013, I had another visitation dream.  This time it was my paternal Grandmother who came to me.  Again, in a white hazy fog, I saw her walking by.  She was as youthful as I ever remember her being.  Her hair was still a mix of salt and pepper.  She smiled and waved at me as she walked by.  Her smile was shy, bashful; the only one I ever saw her wear while I knew her on this earth.  She was a meek and unassuming soul, never the center of attention, but her true beauty shone in those quick glimpses of happiness I'd see when someone would compliment her delicious mahogany cake, home-made donuts on Lenten Fridays or an incredible Thanksgiving meal served to the massive family on makeshift tables in her basement.  It was one of these smiles I saw, with a wave directed at me for the duration of the short of the dream.  I had no doubt this was a visitation dream, but I didn't really understand what Grandma was trying to tell me.

The following morning, as I meditated, I had a "knowing" that I should go to Washington, Missouri (where I was raised) and walk the riverfront trail.  I had this knowing before so I did not question it.  While walking the trail, I saw my Grandma's son and his wife approaching.  They were both present the night of my NDE and I had not seen either one of them in the two years since that event.  I was a bit apprehensive; I'd received mixed signals from various relatives on this side of the family.  Then I realized what my Grandma was trying to tell me....I should not be afraid, this would be a good interaction.  Then I approached them with confidence.  We had a pleasant conversation.  My list of friendly relatives expanding, my fears were abating.

October 2013 brought challenges for me in the form of therapy.  To become mentally and emotionally healthy, I am peeling away the myriad layers of Band Aids I've unconsciously and subconsciously piled on my wounds.  I've done a fair amount of talk therapy since September 2011 but this was different.  I began on October 14th.  It was both physically and emotionally painful; I was exhausted for days after each session.  It dredged up memories I couldn't consciously recall but once raised from the depths of my mind, the memories were clear as a bell and I could easily put them into context.  This process was not pleasant in any way.  It was the emotional equivalent to re-breaking every bone in my body so they could be set properly.  In short, I hated this therapy but I knew it would help me heal.

One week after my first therapy session, on October 21, Jesus came to me in a dream.  Sounds incredibly hokey, but it's true.  I have never dreamed of God, Jesus, The Creator, etc., much less in a visitation dream.  In my dream, I was walking down a well-worn path in a field of tall grass.  To my right, I saw a tremendous white-golden light or energy.  I turned my head toward this light and briefly glimpsed precisely what my mind conjures up when I think of Jesus.  He quickly "floated" behind me, out of my field of vision but I could still see the light.  I could not believe my "eyes!"  I tried to look at Him again but only the white-gold light/energy was visible.  I looked forward, the light/energy moved back to my right shoulder.  I turned to the right trying to see Him and again, the light floated behind me.  I could always see the light but not His face.  I continued walking forward down the path, making no more effort to see His face because clearly this was not part of "the deal."  The white-gold light/energy remained by my right shoulder and I could feel His presence the entire time I traveled the path.  Then I woke up.  I understood.  He's by my side as I walk this difficult path toward recovery.  I did this therapy for nine months; it never got any easier but I was always comforted by the thought of this special dream I will always cherish.

As I try to find my place in this new world I've awoken to, I have the feeling I need to share what I saw and learned in my NDE.  I'm just trying to figure out  how to do it!  My first real step was in starting this blog.  The feedback (mostly private messages and personal conversations) tells me that people are benefiting from hearing about my experiences.  This builds confidence in my desire to write a book but I know I'm not ready for that yet.  I need to assimilate many experiences before I share them.  This book will come to be when the time is right.

People often come to me for advice, but more frequently since my NDE.  They express gratitude, telling me my advice has changed them in some way, for the better.  I have a hard time accepting gratitude for the words I share; it's almost like I'm a "channel" and the most perfect words come to me effortlessly without any thought whatsoever.  If I'd worked for hours developing suggestions for some of the scenarios presented to me, I could never create such thoughtful responses as those that just spill out of my mouth.  Maybe this is a gift I can share?

I thought a career based in psychology might be a way to share this "gift."  I was guided (an incredible story by itself) to an AMAZING psychology professor who had a huge impact on my life.  His class was anything but traditional and in the passion I had for learning in his non-traditional classroom, I understood I wasn't meant to pursue anything in a traditionally academic way.

A variety of friends have suggested over the past few years that I become a "life coach."  This seemed vague and ambiguous to me, maybe even kinda cheesy.  How pretentious to assume I could coach someone on "life."  No, not for me.

Yet, every month when my Oprah magazine arrives, I find myself heading for Martha Beck's advice column before I read anything else.  I love her sense of humor and yes!  I SO GET what she's telling people.  She seems like a friend I have yet to actually meet.  So, I read some of her books and they seem like coming home.  It's like she's written a formula for the experience of my life over the past three years.  She understands how I tick, and what matters in my life; she's been through family trauma that parallels my own.  I really enjoy Martha's work so I checked out her website; she's got a life coach training program.  Still, I think "That's not for me."

About this same time, Jill Farmer came into my circle.  Our daughters played sports together; I'd see her around town.  I didn't really know her, but I could feel a really great, positive energy about her.  I somehow felt she could be a good friend if I ever got to know her.  One thing lead to another and I found out she's a Martha Beck Master Coach.  These coincidences were starting to feel more like signs.  Jill and I met for coffee and I asked about what she does as a life coach.  I was intrigued and for the first time I thought maybe....just maybe I could do something like that with my own little twist.

With encouragement from David, on my 50th birthday, I signed up for the Martha Beck Life Coach Training Program.  I am excited at the prospect of doing something so incredibly different!  With absolutely no idea where I'm going or how I will put this training to use, I'm taking a leap of faith that God will open new doors as I step off my comfortable path of tried and true.  Being a meticulous planner and one who is completely invested in the outcome of every plan I set in motion, this adventure is completely out of character for me and I more than a little bit nervous!

On the morning of September 16, 2014, less than two weeks from the start of the Martha Beck course, I had an interesting meditation.  I heard the word "effortless," and the term "duty to respond."  Plus I had a vision; it lasted a split second but this is what came to me:

I saw prison bars in front of my face.  I turned to the left and saw that the prison wall was only about 6 inches high.  Huh....how funny, I "think" to myself; I can just step out, I am not really in prison!  So, I stepped over the wall and with that, the bars slid down, sort of melted, away from my face.  I am free.  

I interpreted this vision to mean that I can step out of my prison anytime I choose.  I have a variety of thoughts that I allow to imprison me and this vision can be applied to all of them.  I went on with my day, sure of what the vision meant, but kind of curious about "effortless" and "duty to respond."

About 9:00 p.m. on this same evening, I was reading in preparation for the Martha Beck course.  On page 69 of Steering by Starlight, I read:

"All of this occurred to me in less than a heartbeat, and it made me laugh at myself a long time.  After you've been digging out of your thought-dungeon for a while, almost everything you think starts to effect you this way.  Over and over again, you find yourself locked in an inescapable dungeon, then quickly realize that the dungeon doesn't even exist.  Then you can drop the window bars from your face,...."

Chills ran down my spine.  This is an exact description of my morning meditation.  This serendipity had been "effortless."  It's my "duty to respond" to this calling.  I get it!  The light bulb came on and I was filled with gratitude.  I had been nervous about starting a new adventure and this, to me, was confirmation "from above" that I am on the right path.  What a wonderful gift!

I was asleep for 47 years, a sort of zombie marching to the cadence of self-imposed external forces, down a path that did not satisfy my soul. Now I understand I am in control.  I am consciously choosing the path my soul desires.  While scary and painful at times, I see the signs that I am not alone on this journey.  These priceless gifts from beyond illuminate my high road when thoughts and fears clutter my vision.


Please forgive typos and grammatical errors.  This writing comes in a flow from the heart and I admit, I am not perfect!