Gifts from the Past, Present and Future!

Wow it has been so long that I sat here to write , that I forgot how wonderful it felt and how soothing it is to my soul! It feels like playing the piano after a long stint away from my music. I can see the keys on my keyboard as if they were the ivories of a piano. Clicking to a rhythm and flow with a melody to create the words in my heart and on my mind.
It is helpful to look back on my years of posts and see that changes have been steady and raw. Seeing the work in progress and in past makes me proud to know that the trials are just as beautiful as the victories!

I used to think I was cheated when I graduated from high school and my parents gave me an electric typewriter, when my classmates got cars and diamonds and pearls.  To me the typewriter felt like a passive aggressive message, somehow saying to me... "write when you find work!"! What did they know about me that I didn't know at that time was that I was indeed best served by writing and creating and composing the words that I experienced in my heart, my mind and my soul! Did they really put that much thoughtfulness into the graduation gift?   Did they know that my life was to be written for all to read?  Did they know that the signature of a writer was in nine of the twelve houses in my astrological chart? Did they know that my numerology computation is the signature of a writer?  Did they know this was to be my ultimate bliss?  It is amazing to me the serendipity in this story!
Now that I am seeing what I forgot in my thoughts and feelings or the lack thereof I am sitting in my recognition!  Recognition is like possession, 90% of the law of healing and changing from within! Now seeing the change and loss of time at the keyboard I am feeling the numbness in my fingertips again from being able to let the passion of writing take stronghold.

Today there was a sonic boom of sorts in my soul! I stood in the bank parking lot just retrieving cash for my oldest daughter to fund for her trip to her new home in California.  She had come home to get her things and sort her old life to prepare for her upcoming marriage and life.  I hugged her tightly and it occurred to me that I had not done enough to prepare her for the world and to strengthen her.  She seemed so small for a fraction of a second during our hugs goodbye. I wondered if she needed more?  This would be the last time I would see her before she changed her name, her expectations of the world and her relationship to time. She was about to forever change her life and her dreams. The sonic boom came as I drove away and heard the loud wave of sadness rise from my heart in a tight aching that welled up the tears in my eyes.  I was realizing another big event was happening and I needed to release it into the Universe.  At this point could I give myself more? Could I give her anything of value than the understanding of who she was and how much I loved her?  Should I have sat down with her and done her tarot cards or a numerology reading to help her know what she should do with her life?  No, my intuition and knowing are not needed here.  Just the vibrations of love and hope for her and her soul!  This must have been how my parents felt when I drove away with a U-haul full of stuff to begin my new life!  Returning to the place of silence has helped me.  I tried to wrangle my tears driving home. I called my own mother's cell phone. Wanting to tell her thank you and that I am able to see all that she did for me and gifted me with!  No answer.  Would she have been able to accept my message if I had been able to deliver the gratitude over the phone?  I am not sure. It might be a bit too late.

So here it sits with me to keep on task and with focus on the point I tried to make earlier.  There is rhyme and reason in chaos and in stillness! The perfect life is as unpredictable as the imperfect life.  That truly one must be able to live in the flow of life, watching for bubbles of air that rise to our consciousness! Catching our breath in the tide pools and strengthening our muscles and soul in the strong under currents.  There is nothing more my parents could give to me than that.  There is nothing more that I can give to my children than just that as well.  The gift of being present and loving regardless of what happens.

Be Still my Soul!

Wondering at my humanity today.  Seeing the cracks of my imperfection and owning their divine perfection.
Leaving a note to my daughter, how can I say these things? Will you hear me and feel me? Are you able to sense the clarity? Please listen and feel and know how deeply you are loved and supported!

There is such wisdom that I don't even understand in this lifetime.  I remember from my past, laying on the sands on a beach in Moorea, Tahiti and cry my soul out to the melodic song of Pachelbel Cannon in D Minor on a loop from my Walkman tape cassette player.  Wanting and longing to know what will come of the future and what I will become as a person.  I felt so lost. I felt so frightened and alone. I longed to have someone tell me that this very longing to know was hardwired in me from the beginning. That challenge to think, to see and to feel. I was different that what I perceived my kind was.  Those that were in my family, those that were my peers. I was longing on a deeper level and in vibration to that journey's end! I was beautiful in my rawness and in my humanity. In tears and a sense of sadness, I was alone, on my own. No one to rescue me, no one to stop the pain and searing aches of growth and independence.  My fragility was divine just as designed. I longed for my knowing and my soul tribe.

Watching you grow has been amazing! Knowing your divine self is humbling. Thankful to be able to witness this and be mindful of it is earth shaking.  You walk differently, you carry your soul differently. I am proud of you and your journey.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpC8gQZT9HY

I get this life in a completely different way than I did at twenty-one, thirty or even yesterday's age of forty-nine.  I see my purpose with clarity only in looking at my past, my children and my community.  I see my fragility in listening to what others say and how I interpret the inner language of my disappointment in my present moment.

I now hear what I couldn't hear yesterday. I see what I couldn't see yesterday. I feel what I refused to yesterday. Each day it is given another opportunity to celebrate another chance. To allow for the process to flow over me and to be acutely aware of my human experience.

"Be Still, My Soul" by Catharina von Schlegel, 1697-?
Translated by Jane Borthwick, 1813-1897
1. Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.2. Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.3. Be still, my soul, though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.4. Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.Hymn #651
The Lutheran Hymnal
Text: Psalm 46:10
Author: Catharine Amalia Dorothea von Schlegel, 1752, cento
Translated by: Jane Borthwick, 1855
Titled: "Stille, mein Wille"
Composer: Jean Sibelius, b. 1865, arr.
Tune: "Finlandia"

Emotional Bank accounts

This morning I lay awake and wondered how it was that I survived all these years with my secrets stuffed deep inside me. Years of crushing heartaches, fear and low self esteem kept me afraid to face the secrets. Secrets have a way of rising to the surface under the moonlight! How could I possibly have made a deal with my unconscious to hide them from me?  What kind of conversation was that?  It must have gone something very covert.
Ann- "Ugh, I don't ever want to think and feel like that again!"
Unconscious Mind- "We can arrange that! It is quite simple really.  I will protect you from that and you can go on with your life without ever having to relive that."  After the deal was made that seven year old little girl went on her merry way. Never looking back, never having to feel those painful memories again. 
Time went on, fear resurfaced in another costume, trust was fleeting, I wanted it so badly I projected it onto people in my life that truly didn't have the capacity to be trusted.  How very vulnerable, how very human of me.
What would I have done if in fact I had slowed down long enough to listen and screen those in my life.  Looking for the genuine trust and trust ability, I could have screened them much like a job candidate has references checked, a loan application, loaning my heart to an applicant.  I never did a background soul check.
Left without the means to recover from those emotional mishaps and heart breaks, bankrupt once again in the emotional and spiritual savings account.  There was no guaranty to recover my lost investment.  These were not losses that were deductions on my taxed soul.
Knowing that this was a long term loss and one that no one could replace for me.  There was no bail out for my soul and my life. This was just that literal loss of joy.
Now looking back I have regained my investment by investing in myself, my mind, my body, my heart and my awareness of me.  Surely I couldn't have recovered it in its original form. Now my soul's fiscal recovery act has been in the recent years of action. Undoing the devastation of a soul's heart of fiscal irresponsibility.
Do something for thirty days and it becomes a habit, do something for thirty years and it becomes a lifestyle.  Right or wrong, it is still the past and it is still mine.  I won't throw it out with the bath water. There is a lesson in it that catches my thoughts often. Remembering is the pill to change what was bitter and painful.

Finding My Muses

I woke this morning with this topic fresh in mind.  Who and what is my muse? I didn't really think about it much before now, so this is an unusual place for me. An honest and raw place that I feel compelled to go. Taking a big deep breath to launch my truths.

Where do I really get the inspirations for these blogs and any of my other writings? At first easily answered in saying that my muse is my pain.  The pain and sadness and frustration that surfaced during my journey. Being alone in facing my demons and having to listen to my heart while the Universe sets out a vibrational signal of code for me to follow.  That code is the communication of my guides, holding up a cosmic mirror to reflect the inner truths and rawness of my humanity.  The vibrational code much like the tones from the aliens that came to visit in the movie "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" with Richard Dreyfus. In that movie he struggles to make sense of the tonal melody that resonates in his being, until that fateful day that he is actually face to face with proof of higher intelligence and his own purpose of existence. 

Yes, I am feeling that vibration constantly. Trying to understand the song of my soul and the message in the ether's from the Universe to help me evolve or dissolve!  The message comes to me in pieces. Sometimes in my slumbers and sometimes in a flash, a moment, in the car, in the shower or in a discussion with a trusted friend. Not always the complete symphony or the short snappy tune I wish it would be.
Thus my painful, lamentings and writings come in pieces. I feel that the pain in my writing is too long, too often and over-rated. The drive of securing the emotion and letting it dwell within me with conscious intention is the reason for the writing. Avoidance of the raw is not acceptable in the growth process.  To become refined, the element must feel the heat of the refiners fire and hammer to evolve. Those are the strikes of pain and challenge for me. The heat ever increasing to take the misleading imperfections from my perceptions of my reality up to this point in my life. It was Sue Frederick that told me "Pain is fuel" and using it to bring the divine self into reality is our job. The pain is like jet fuel on some days driving me through lightening speed evolution, while other days the fuel is slow and dull as regular gas in a lawn mower plodding along in drudgery and duty. This pain is still pain, whether jet fuel or daily fuel that keeps me going and feeling alive, changing and working through my existence.

Then out of the blue, I am hit with a symphony of joy and knowing, a relief from the pressures of my pains, with a shot of joy.  That shot of joy makes it all worthwhile, all so do-able. When a smile is not enough, but only joyful tears are enough to do my soul justice.  Shaking, joy, bliss on a cellular level each rampant strand of energy shooting through my heart is more than electric. Sometimes it comes at the sight of the stunning Pacific Northwest mountains, sometimes seeing a full moon through the tall noble firs at night.  Then others it comes from  somewhere within me and within my soul that was always there and I had not allowed it to surface to my consciousness. Keeping it repressed, kind of like a root cellar waiting for me to slow down and throw open the doors to allow the light into my soul and consciousness. Breathing air and light into the darkness of my soul and into my awareness. Seeing the dust release from my heart and mind, as it sprinkles around and in between the rays of sunlight and moonlight.

As if passion were a pill one could take, I would have a complete prescription for a daily dose. Regulated by my society and tempered by the food and drug administration. But alas, I do not have the dosage right by society's standards. "Too passionate" was the feedback I got from a past job interview. I laugh at it now thinking back, how unbridled I was when I spoke from my heart and yet those in the midst of it most couldn't handle my passion. The volume was too loud, too high and too real. It is funny now to see how I tempered it to fit, to be salable to those around me. I used the passion of my journey to evolve within an industry that was in no way ready for the divine passion I have been designed to fulfill.  I know now ,that my light is more than some can handle. I know stepping into my truth, that I am designed specifically to be the strong passionate creature of my own evolution. No bars, no template to keep me in. Whether it be pain or joy or fury of passion, it is just as it should be. Inspiring myself, my soul, my consciousness to stand tall in its place and bringing my awareness into the front of the world. Free at last to radiate the purpose of  what my heart longs to be. That unbridled creature by design with complete power and love. Showing myself the deepest forgiveness and compassion, I have wrapped my arms around the pieces of me that were fractured, weak and sore. I am now seeing the complete vision of who I am to be.  I hear the symphony from my heart. Capable of dancing for the first time in my lifetime to the song of my soul and with joyful tears in my eyes and a heart bursting with passion that I can't describe.
Now the muse is within me rather without. I no longer have to wait for it to come to the surface. I am now rewritten to have a shortcut to my muses.

For Humanity's sake!

What just happened to me doesn't reflect the depth of the impact on the soul.  For what I am feeling and knowing and remembering, I am still not, breathing into my own experience of the moment called "NOW"! 
How can I create that tether to bring myself back into the moment of now and to consciously work on the wounds of who I am and how I should take the next step forward?  Sitting quietly is not enough.  Listening to the air swim by to the accompaniment of my "yes, but..." and wondering how do I hear more deeply, feel more deeply and to process the inner formula of the change that is washing over me.
My wonderment is powerful and fragile. Keeping in line with the inner child. My soul longs for the presence of knowing, yet is unable to recognize the knowing in now.
Afraid of the shame, the self judgment and most importantly the value of the self in society's eyes.
What I have done up till now does not define me and my reality anymore. It is the reality of constructing in the moment that allows me to breathe into my soul.  Taking long breaths and sitting still for a moment before my consciousness takes over the wheel of my mind and its forthought.

Where is that porch swing in my mind to sit and ponder?  Back and forth and back and forth bringing rhythm to my consciousness lulling me into the trance that allows for my breathe to slow down, my thoughts to loosen up and bring a state of stillness.  Stillness in my souls inner closet. Counting toes and fingers from the battle and bringing inventory of things let go and lost. Also celebrating the victories and gains and scars. Getting to the present inventory gives a sense of relief and pride.
Another deep breath brings a widened eye, to a wider scope to the scope of my view.  Seeing behind and seeing forward has clearer acuity for me now. In this moment and with this thought and that feeling I am able to know , I am just where I should be I am exactly as I designed it to be in this moment and in this place and in this lifetime.  Feeling and reeling from the real me.
I am done shedding and am not ready to grow into the new me, the new size, the new color and especially the new life of an aware sould, waking to the now. 

Sometimes the sadness for those left behind, confused in their reality brings a furrowed brow to my face.  It is for me to know the purpose of that role has passed and given me a place of reflection and a gift of recognition to my soul's view of the me and the reality for the place we all must arrive at is here.

What if...? what if I don't want to?  What if I don't like it when I get there? What if it doesn't fit and has no resonating similarity for my soul?  In a matter of speaking it is just what I must do.  Taking the first step and knowing that out of my specifically designed plan, I must have that next step. Nothing can stop me from taking the next step in the path.  The momentum has already started and I am hard wired to follow through.

Owning it, naming it and dealing with it!

I was that good girl. The one who was told to be grateful for what I got.  I was supposed to take it, smile and play nice.  I wanted grape, instead I got lemon.  It isn't good enough. I wasn't truly happy. I felt slighted and cheated to my true self. A big sigh of frustration escaped my mouth. It was better than nothing.  Semi-satisfied in the life of what was drawn out for me. Measured, how other people saw fit to their paradigm of what should be.
That was how it spelled out in each marriage, in each relationship and in each business interaction.  Do the right(aka nice) thing. Being acceptable to the present perspective of how a woman should act, behave and believe. I had no clue in how to ask for more. I had no idea that there was a voice that I could use out loud and not just in my head. Did other species like me actually get what they wanted? Did they speak up and get the very things their hearts desired?  Weren't they label and shunned. Did they shame their parents and family for stepping out of the nice and tidy box of femininity? Dishonor's threat always looming in the consciousness. Lurking and shaming us.  What a tremendous amount of power we were trained to yield up and give away. My own power and divine right, handed over unconsciously.

Being feminine in a world that longs for healing, nurturing and touch. Being able to give compassion and empathy with abandon.  That is a power in itself. Where is the rule that says women shouldn't be powerful?  The better question is "Why"?  The answer is "because they said so" or they truly didn't know the answer to my long held questions. "That's they way it has always been" and "that's the way it should be." Fear of not knowing. How dare we question their wisdom and place in society. We might see they did not have the power rightfully. We might actually see that the wizard is actually hiding behind the curtain, actually just a man or creature equal to our own. Being drawn out and finding ourselves in a place of lacking or not enough means weakness and fragility.  Of course it is easier to pretend than to allow for each of us to be co-creators and inhabitants in this realm.

Power is masculine. Power is not attractive in a woman. Power is manipulative when it is in a woman. Power is authority. Being powerful is prideful and pride is a sin. Powerful women are witches. Powerful women are not pure. Powerful woman are selfish. Being powerful is selfish and only men are allowed to be selfish. From the place of a child's curiosity of making sense of the world and  my place in it.  How do I fit into a background of conformity? How do I remain complete and whole in the face of shame for the divine gifts we are all given.
What happened to the healing rights in femininity? When one has the magic, light and the power to touch a soul and heal on a cellular level, it is of a divine design.  Where did the fear of femininity come from?  What wounded souls took it upon themselves to deny the rest of mankind the power of balance and femininity? The wizard decided to step behind the curtain of falseness.  To upset the balance of power and equality. How sad could the Universe have been when humanity did this to an entire species. Stoicism is not conducive to the design of humankind.  Being tough is a function of our species, man and woman. It is not a lifestyle, despite what some people might believe today.
Fairly given to each soul. Empowered to the highest good.   Like elastic, power can surge and stretch. It is good for the soul to stretch the power and experience it in all its glory in the moments that this lifetime requires.  Operating without this power leaves our circuitry dampened and unable to clean and regenerate.
There is beauty in being fragile, there is strength in being fragile.  Imagining how it would feel to be strongly fragile or to have fragile strength. It is just the journey and not the destination.  Wondering what it would have been like to have been born a male into this lifetime.  Thinking that I might not have had the same chances, experiences but knowing my soul would feel the same about this imbalance of power.  Would I embrace my feminine side and celebrate my balance and love it and nurture it? That is the thing most heterosexual men fear. The fear of feminine power and love. That femininity is somehow demonized by our religion and culture and society.

Once you smell burnt popcorn the memory of it stays with you forever. Just as the feeling of injustice in power. Laughing out loud at myself. This is was the superhero dreams I had in my youth. My fascination with Wonder Woman, her strength, power and gifts to help humanity. Knowing that we are the justice league taking on the out of balance this species has disproportionally imposed on countless souls and generations. I need justice for the demonization of femininity and how it has impacted my identity and self esteem. It will be mine own, that justice that only I can serve. The justice that only I can take back, love and embrace! There is room in me for all that I am feminine, powerful and strong. It is great to be whole and balanced. Balancing and breathing.

Even Super Heroes Swear! Favoring the f-bomb!

In a moment's time I am able to amass such calmness and bring forth the patience of a warrior, one with a long deep breath and focus.  Yet the moments of daily transformation often kick me for a minor loop.  Having to sit in my skin and realize this could actually be a moment like "Duh" and feel human again! Another deep sigh and then it comes to me.  The forgiveness for my humanity. Knowing that my strength is actually my fragility.  Once afraid of my own power, I couldn't see into the me that I was designed for. I wouldn't open my eyes to the possibility of greatness. Fearing the power, fearing the mantle of such design can terrify us all. Every man and every woman born into this life with blinders of destiny, shielded by religion, culture and our damage we have acquired along the way.

I have been infamously known for dropping a bomb here or there, the eternal "F" bomb. Once or twice at work, once or twice at church, once or twice in a place of reverence.  I realize of course that calling out our own sexuality with this singular word frightens more than 90 percent of my ancestors and peers today. Just because one uses the f-bomb doesn't always denote cognizant awareness of its meaning and origin. As time passes and one's intelligent and exposure increases, everyone can master the handling of such a powerful word. If you don't believe that then just imagine listening to a English language learner using the F-bomb for the first time and it will bring a smile to your face! Such a powerful word and yet so many know so little of it's power! 
"Are you sure you want to say that word?" doesn't get heard inside my head in the nanoseconds just before it's launch. There isn't a loud enough safety to stop me from saying it and sometimes I just laugh at the word and it's social construct so hardily that it brings me to tears.
I remember a time growing up when I heard my own Father use the f-bomb and the accompanying sign language or symbolic representation that is universally known. The Green Beret Colonel, man of steel and integrity and grace as an officer and a gentleman, showing his under belly and his humanity. Shock and amazement, awe and wonder! It was delivered in such a heavy angry tone. This was the first time I recognized my Father as a sexual creature, somehow showing his sexuality in the expression of a word so taboo.  I now look back and confidently knew he dropped the f-bomb throughout his life and his life away from us kids. I can imagine him during the Vietnam era using a daily diet of the f-bomb yet, never using it at home.  No, that would mean that he would admit to being a sexual creature, despite the evidence of him fathering five children miraculously.  Especially never in the presence of women and children. Super hero power!
You know ladies never say the f-bomb. Women confident in their language mastery have plenty of other words to use instead of the f-bomb. Masked in linguistic skill and religious and social constraints.  One can never admit the comprehension to the word, the word that defines our knowledge of our true sexuality. Growing up my mother never ever said the f-bomb. How she held it back while raising five kids nearly alone as a military wife and especially in foreign countries and among strange languages. Raised on an Ohio farm during the depression. The youngest of four children, my Mother had a saying that still resonates to this day, "if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all!".  She certainly didn't acknowledge her ability to articulate her sexuality. My parents were perfectly paired in their era.  It wasn't until I became an adult did I ever hear my mother drop the f-bomb. I am sure it was part, awareness and part her reaching comfort in her maturity that the f-bomb even was able to surface.

I believe it was in high school there was a teacher at my high school that would accidentally drop the f-bomb during class. She was a beautifully sexy, vibrant and intelligent woman that had all girls and boys enamored by her skill, candor and her brilliance.  She had such swagger that we thought she was invincible. I know my classmates would remember her. I am sure our parents would label her a slut or trash because she didn't fit into their perceived role as teacher as defined by their generations. We knew then as kids to keep her openness a protected secret. Yes, among fellow students we relished the idea of a teacher that could transcend our generation with one word, with such style and candor. We almost revered her.  Perhaps we did in reality. This was something no one else in the adult world would use. I know we all intrinsically knew that revealing her humanity and ability to use the f-bomb was taboo, tattling and judging her. We actually celebrated it and realized the power of the f-bomb without knowing.  There was safety in the secret taboo. Keeping it from the system's ears and eyes. Keeping the power struggle of righteous dominion in check.  Allowing for humanity to surface without being bridled.
As time passes we can learn to explore the f-bomb.  Much like exploring our very own sexuality.  Using it in different settings, under different circumstances and in diverse company. Do we allow it launch to define us as a person, worthy or not, capable of being and doing differently? I say not. The best part about the f-bomb now is that that one word in the English language has the complexity of a masterpiece, in the right hands it can bring smiles and in the wrong hands it can elicit powerful fear.

 The bomb handler, is a delicate job. Each of us knows that how it has to be handled and delivery requires the skill of a technician deftly bringing timing, geographic, demographics and purposefulness into mastery. Yet even the young f-bomb handler can recall a mishandling event in their timeline and journey.  I remember laughing hysterically, almost peeing in my pants at moments when I or a close friends dropped the bomb in the most auspicious way. The reaction and delivery brought us to our knees.  At the moment it was powerful and precise. Like a true bomb, that brought us great joy and bliss. It wasn't slighted with shame or the deep dark taboo of sexual symbolism in our minds, although it may have well been shamefully taboo to the audience surrounding us. The f-bomb has no sense of stoicism or reverence. It is just what it was designed to be, without pretense and posturing. Raw, real and deeply human. Allowing the sensuality of its meaning to deliver more than the human condition can comprehend in its limited role. The limited role of repressed and shamed.  The power of one word strikes the world to it's core and brings humanity to even the greatest superhero! Oh yes, and by the way, welcome to earth and our own humanity!