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Healing Me Softly With His Song

A local dairy farm, Maple Valley Creamery, sells ice cream cones out of a small wooden hut. Each week, they give away free cones to specific names. One week it was for anyone who shared a name with someone in The Brady Bunch. My name is Jan, so my husband and I decided to take the 40 minute drive to get my free ice cream!

I had been worried about my daughter who has been going through months of chemo. She hadn’t been feeling well of late. I decided that a ride in the countryside to get an ice cream was what I needed.

We drove along winding, tree-lined roads that follow the river, past farm fields and past the Hadley Mall to the Hadley Scoop, as the colorful hut is called. We walked up to the window. I ordered one scoop of strawberry shortcake ice cream on a gluten-free cone. They use fresh strawberries!

Behind the hut was a seating area complete with fenced in cows, goats, and sheep for petting. We found a small picnic table in the middle and got settled, licking our creamy treats. We faced the music. There was a guy singing and playing guitar for tips on a six inch riser. He sang a Chris Stapleton song I was unfamiliar with, but the ambiance he created was soothing.

I heard lyrics about Jesus and angels. My ears perked up. I waited for the refrain, as my heart opened up and my daughter slipped in.

Don’t go looking for the reasons
Don’t go asking Jesus why
We’re not meant to know the answers
They belong to the by and by.

Angels come down from the heavens
Just to help us on our way.

Tears flooded my eyes. I tried to hold them back while silently licking my ice cream. One or two escaped. I felt singled out. This song, this message, was meant for me in this moment, I thought. He was healing me softly with his song.

Unraveling Our Heritage

I recently came across a passage about Spirituality and Abundance while rereading
Anita Moorjani’s latest book, Sensitive is the New Strong. I scanned the pages and shared them with my daughter who, like me—since I was the one who raised her—struggles with allowing, and not resisting, abundance in her life and work.

Money. Just the word congers up a wad of mixed emotions. Guilt. Desire. Fear. Gratitude. We weren’t born with any innate feelings about this social construct; we were taught by example or had experiences that led us to this end as adults.

Let’s face it, we need money in our society in order to survive, in order to own shelter, in order to eat, to be well, to seek treatment for ailments. Some abandon society’s demands and choose to be homeless, to scavenge or beg on street corners. But that’s got to be a tough life, too. One that’s not for me, if I can avoid it. I’d rather struggle to make ends meet with the basics. Well, truth is, I’d rather not have to struggle.

In my experience, we reap that which we believe. If we believe we’re not lovable, we reap crappy relationships. If we believe the world is unkind and dangerous, we attract such experiences. If we believe we are not deserving of abundance for whatever reason, be it low self-esteem, a wish to be closer to God, or a belief in its “evil” nature, we attract less of it. The Universe provides by supporting our beliefs.

The issue lies, then, in changing our long-held beliefs. It’s easy to trace their origins. I just look under the rock I crawled out from while in the care of my parents. My mom, a gentle spiritual, but also troubled soul, chose poverty to be closer to God and live among the poor. This came after the divorce and just shy of completing her master’s degree. My dad, a former professor, seemed a little tight fisted around money which may be why we always seemed to have enough.

I take after my mother, being highly intuitive, sensitive, and spiritual in nature and wanting to help people. At age 16, I won a creative writing contest in Seventeen magazine for which I was awarded $30. I donated half to a non-profit children’s fund. Already I was practicing self-lessness and feelings of not deserving of abundance if others were in need.

As an adult, I still give to charity on occasion, but I have also learned that it’s ok to keep 100% of what I earn, especially when I’m helping people. In my channeling practice, I help clients by being a vessel so their Guides can convey needed messages to them. It’s a fair trade.

Channeling is my North Node, astrologically speaking, my Dharma, my calling. Many people get paid for following their calling, some make millions. I was given this gift as a means to survive in this lifetime, whether it be for my own Guidance, or to help others navigate theirs.

I continue to unravel my heritage.

To Purge or Splurge?

My senior citizen cat, who normally lets me sleep, decided to touch the tip of my warm nose with the tip of his cold, wet nose at 2 a.m. this morning. He didn’t even want me to get up and let him out. He just wanted to kiss me and go back to sleep. I know. Sweet, huh? Except that I could not go back to sleep. “Hello darkness, my old friend,” as Paul Simon would say. (Was that song about insomnia or depression? Either way, it was fitting.)

Nighttime is the ripe time to ponder atrocities of life on the planet and in my household. My not-so-common common-law husband of 16 years is a hoarder. Ok, that’s not exactly true. He’s a collector. No, that would indicate many of one item of value, like coins or baseball cards. No, he’s an amasser. “Amass,” according to Webster: to collect for oneself; accumulate. Bingo!

Last night we met with the landlord of a defunct bakery that had sadly gone under. Covid was the straw. The owners of the building were selling off leftover items for the bank to recoup losses. My Common-law was interested in finding (read: amassing) a stainless steel rolling cart for his latest hobby: baking.

What we ended up with instead, stuffed in the back of my Subaru, was a mish-mash of professional baking items of every size, from silicone brushes to 60 lb. bags of flour and a supersized tub of brown sugar. A lifetime supply, depending on the shelf life of the contents…or the human.

I’m only shocked that he didn’t insist on lugging home the Hobart 6000 professional mixer floor model!

Ok, to put things back–or at least back in perspective–he is a man of many hobbies and side hustles that come and go. Currently, he seems to be caught up in a virtual bake-off with his buddy, Jay, that they boast about and post on Facebook. Jay bought a propane-fired pizza oven. My guy bought a bigger one. They both make the dough from scratch. Jay made molasses cookies stuffed with a cream cheese filling made with micro-brewed stout beer. My guy made them with bourbon.

The problem is, I’ve long ago adopted a gluten-free, no sugar, low carb diet for health reasons. I have successfully overcome my cravings for all three…over and over again. Now I live with a baker. So, my Common-law is baking for how many? One.

Really? A 60 lb. bag of flour?

I’m a periodic purger, one who purges. In fact, earlier that same day, I happily got rid of items we decided we didn’t need. I turned a small cabinet into $25 cash, gave away an extra rolling pin (I had to convince him we didn’t need two), and an unused cat ladder. Aaaah. That felt good.

But, the more I purge, the more he amasses. It’s a win-lose. Too bad I love him.

The Road to Remission

Synopsis: HEALING = LOVE OF ONESELF

My guess is that we all know someone near and dear to our hearts who is suffering from a serious illness. Or you, yourself, may be in that condition. Psychologically it’s an unnerving place to be, teetering between uncertainty and hope about the outcome.

When life comes at us this way, like a train wreck, it causes us to look within and without to the cosmos for reasons. Most of us are wired to seek answers, to seek knowledge, to better the planet, to better ourselves. To heal.

Author Anita Moorjani, who battled cancer for years right into the hands of an NDE (Near Death Experience), wrote in her book, Dying To Be Me, “To cherish myself, was the key to my healing. To be me is to be love. This is the lesson that saved my life”.

Can it really be that simple? Maybe we can learn from the lessons she took from her NDE. Let’s take a look. It can’t hurt.

Some people bristle at the notion of loving oneself. It can bring up feelings of guilt and unworthiness or thoughts of ego inflation.

Self-love is not selfish. Love is who we are. Selfish is an earthly human judgment and often stems from a deeply felt insecurity. Insecurity is fear. Fear is limiting. Being Love is expansive. It dissipates fear and rises above the duality of judgment between right and wrong. It just is.

Our childhoods were filled with lessons of right and wrong, as our parents or caregivers–sans playbook on perfect parenting–did their best to instill in us societal do’s and don’ts.

Our essence of Being love slowly got whittled down into conformity to social norms. “Be this way so you don’t embarrass us.”

It can take a lifetime to unlearn some of the teachings of well-meaning parents who loved us or who, we perceive, didn’t love us enough.

And it can take years to develop a disease, which, I believe, is an indicator that we haven’t yet cleared the path back to Love of Self.

How do we get there? Am I even on the path or have I wandered into the brambles?

No matter. Wherever you are, start there. Your actions of self-love will lead you back. Try courting yourself like you’ve just fallen in Love.

  • Splurge on 5 bucks for a bouquet of fresh flowers, from you to you.
  • Draw a bubble bath, candlelit for ambiance, music for relaxation and inspiration.
  • Watch your favorite movie in your pjs.
  • Give yourself a hug, a foot and shoulder massage, a pat on the back.
  • Take a 5 min. respite, away from the needs of others, in the bathroom where solitude and privacy is “acceptable.”
  • Make decisions based on your needs first and stick to them despite feelings of guilt. Guilt is self-judgment, not self-love.
  • Make a list of things you love to look at, to do, to feel, to hear. Then seek those out.
  • Show yourself unconditional love, as you would a friend or a loved one.
  • Say, “I love you” in the mirror. This can be very powerful. Feel it, truly feel it as you say it.

You don’t have to be perfect. Perfection is a judgment which is unattainable! Allow yourself the beauty of imperfection. Love yourself unconditionally.

You’re already on The Road to Remission.

2020 Vision

The year 2020 has been a huge reset button. A year of truth-telling, shining light where there was darkness.

My sensitive nephew became my beautiful niece. My step-daughter left an oppressive and emotionally abusive relationship, my colleague went public about a festering issue at Smith College.

For me, being forced to work from home since March, gave me the bandwidth to reexamine life and come into my own.

Without the 40 minute commute each way, I had more time to give to the things I love: crafting and building my website.

I realigned with Source and filled my heart with gratitude. I produced guided meditations and visualizations to help ease fears for myself and others. This has been a time of rebirth and self-re-examination. My purpose became crystal clear:

“Use your gift of clairaudience to help others. Come out of the shadows publicly as a psychic channeler to give more readings. Release self-doubt and fear of reproach.”

There’s no more tolerance for lies and deception. We are embarking on a new decade, a new way forward. Going backward is not in the cards.

How has 2020 changed you for the better? What’s your 2020 vision for your own future? What are your unique gifts bestowed upon you to inch humanity forward?