Personal Memory of 9-11

Ten years ago started out as just a typical day. I was a fifty-year old college student. When the alarm went off I hit the snooze and laid in bed with tears rolling off my cheeks into my ears and onto the pillow. School had barely started and I was already so physically weak, exhausted beyond belief, and with the now familiar constant searing pain all over my body, it was a challenge to get out of bed, let alone make it to the bus stop to get to class.

I'd adjusted the alarm to allow myself a good half hour to forty-five minutes of snooze tapping so that I could slowly stretch out some of the pain before I even attempted to get out of bed. I also needed that time to psyche myself up for meeting the challenge of another difficult day--hopefully with a smile on my face. No need to bring other people down, right?

I remember thinking in the shower and as I dressed how this year I was already physically worse than last year...and how, since I couldn't take less than a full load at Concordia (private school), that maybe I really should look into MSUM (public college) for next year so that I could have a lighter class load...then maybe I would feel much better and things would turn around for me.

Hobbling a little less, standing a little taller, I headed for the living room. Glancing out the window to assess the morning, I clicked on the TV so I could check the weather channel prediction before I packed up my books and decided on how many layers and which coat or jacket to wear. Remote in hand, I stood a few feet in front of the TV and waited for the screen to come on so I could punch in the weather channel.

What appeared on the screen was the picture of the first tower smoking against the blue sky. What?! The announcers were wondering what had happened. I watched and waited with the rest of the world. But then a plane disappeared into the other tower...erasing all doubt.

At that moment, I remember an almost physical sensation of this monstrous wave of black fear energy instantly radiating and spreading outward from the towers--even before they fell. It felt like the blast from an atomic bomb--knocking people backwards. My first thought was--No! I closed my eyes. Don't let this do that to you! I felt like I wanted to wrap my arms around everybody! Tell them--Don't be afraid. Please! Please! Hold onto the light! Choose the light!

This lifting sensation gradually came over me. My entire body buzzed and tingled. I stood, eyes closed--even the sounds from the TV faded away--and this core of calm took hold of me. A vision of waves of dark energy spreading across the earth like ripples on a pond increased in power as the initial fear and shock of the people gave birth to raw panic, anger, and hatred. I stood.

As I spread my arms I felt my heart open so wide it was my whole being. Waves of this love energy began to wash over me...or through me...or from me...I don't know. But suddenly I realized...I wasn't alone. It was as if I could see rays of bright lights all over the world...reaching out...almost as if we were holding hands...like this lace blanket of light covering the earth...

[I had to stop writing because just remembering this reduces me to tears...because it breaks my heart that so many people are still washed in that fear.]

Anyways, I stood in my living room like that for an hour (felt like a couple minutes). Never moved. Never felt my body. Only felt attached by energy to all those other people...radiating white light...the waves of love reaching outward. Never felt so connected to the light, to love, to humanity. And then it slowly subsided. I opened my eyes...was still holding the remote in my hand. They were replaying and replaying that scene...as they will probably do again today. I won't watch.

Horrible things happen all the time. It's not what has happened to us, but how we choose to live through it and what we take away from it that determines who we are.

I have never had an experience like that before or since. But 9-11 changed my life in an unexpectedly positive way. Our choices do matter. They do make a difference. We are not alone.

We have chosen.

We are already holding hands somewhere in that dark blanket or in the light blanket.

But we have the gift of free will.

And we can change our minds whenever we choose.

Flowers and Garbage-Part Two

In this vision, GA and I went for a walk.

Imagine every person has their own little house. Each house has a yard with a fence around it and is part of this huge neighborhood with endless streets. We were walking down streets near my house. Some of the neighboring houses were pristine, while some were badly neglected, falling down shacks. I could tell that almost all the houses had originally been identical, but they had been painted, decorated, and cared for differently by each resident. Then there were a few people who had built their fences up so high and solid that you couldn't even see their houses at all--warning signs to trespassers on a couple of high fences.

The yards--they all seemed to have varying amounts of flowers and/or garbage, but there were a few that had nothing but barren dirt. A few were packed to overflowing with a rainbow of flowers and there were a few that had garbage piled so high you couldn't even catch a glimpse of their roof! Some people were out in their yards. Many were empty. Either the people were inside, in the back yard, or out walking.

And there were quite a few people out walking the streets. As you walked by the people who were out in their yards, most of them ignored you. There were a few who offered me flowers over the fence, and some actually tried to hit me with their trash! Attacked me and I didn't even know them! (Pissed me off and I desperately wanted to give them a piece of my mind, but GA grabbed my arm and kept me moving.)

There were actually people wandering up and down the street pulling wagonloads of garbage and tossing it in people's yards! And yet there were also a few carrying armloads of flowers that they were randomly handing out. Most were just scurrying past, trying not to be noticed.

We came across a garbage fight! Neighbors pelting each other with trash! And another fight! Shoveling over the fences into each other's yard. Screaming at each other! Hurting each other!!

Chaos! Looked crazy, chaotic, and dangerous--made no sense! I just wanted to go home.

So, GA took me to my house.

Much shabbier than I expected--kind of run down. And my yard! A few scattered flowers...but a ton of garbage. I was devastated! I had tried so hard all my life to be a good person and my house and yard looked like that?!!

GA showed me my life--like a strange flowers and garbage movie.

I did see flowers sprout and grow in my yard. I had genuinely felt love for people, animals--and I felt that was related to flowers, but I wasn't sure how. People often hurt me or let me down--garbage dumping--and I didn't trust them anymore. Flowers grew. Flowers withered and died. But--the garbage never seemed to stop multiplying.

People came to me and handed me flowers...and I usually gave them flowers back. Sometimes, even if I planted the flower and tried to care for it...it shriveled up and died, no matter what I did to save it? And yet other flowers sprouted all by themselves for no apparent reason. Some of the flowers I was given and went to plant...discovered that they had been plastic and not real at all!

Certain people stood by my fence and begged me for flowers...and I gave them flowers...real flowers...and they withered in their hands!? But they keep those hands outstretched until I had no more real flowers to give and reluctantly gave them plastic ones. They didn't seem to notice the difference, but I knew. I felt guilty, but those people drained me. I only had so many flowers to give.

More recently...I saw my second husband pelting me with trash. He scared the hell out of me and I hid in my house a lot. He came with wagonloads and dumped them over my fence while I stood there silently. Sometimes he snuck back and tried to retrieve some of it. I didn't dare throw any at him or raise my voice in my defense, but my garbage pile kept growing--even when he removed some of it?

He'd barely left the scene and then my first husband arrived...backed a dump truck of steamy, smelly trash right up to my yard! I stood there and screamed at him...threatened him...threw handfuls of garbage in his face...but he just kept on dumping...and drove away laughing. And that pile kept growing long after he drove away.

My yard was overflowing with garbage!!

I was ashamed.

I wanted a pretty yard with flowers.

A yard I could be proud of.

But I hadn't a clue how to get rid of all that garbage...and keep it out! Or how to get flowers to grow in my yard...and keep growing! I couldn't even tell a real flower from a plastic one! How do you keep people from dumping trash in your yard, even if you didn't get involved in garbage fights (the red rubber ball thing)--they still just did whatever they felt like!

Tears of abject sorrow and defeat...

(It was a roller coaster night--LOL!)

GA revealed the secret to flowers and garbage.

The only thing that matters is what you give away. Whatever you give to others, multiplies back in your own yard.

(I know to many of you this is a "duh!" moment, but I was, and still am, a slow learner.)

The garbage people give you doesn't matter at all. Not one tiny bit. Don't give one piece of it a second thought. It is what you give that matters.

There is nothing to gain in wandering the streets, neglecting your own yard, to check out other people's yards. Asking others for flowers, needing flowers to be given to you...will not help your yard...like the people who stand and beg at the fence. Only giving flowers, grows flowers in your yard. Same as the people who attack, use garbage as weapons, and try to destroy other people's yards--it will not make their yard look better. They could even scoop it up and haul it off to dump in various people's yards, but it only multiplies the trash back in their own yard.

If someone dumps a garbage pile in your yard and you send anger, fear, annoyance, frustration, or hatred in return...then that is what will grow in your own yard because that is what you are giving away. Even by your thoughts, your energy! You retain and create your own garbage in your own yard. Nobody else can.

If you react by giving flowers--even by thought alone--that pile of trash will just fade away and poof! It's gone. Like an illusionist's trick. No, it's not easy, he said, but try it and see for yourself. No matter how old the trash pile, if you forgive, love, send flowers... :)

And the more flowers you give the more flowers will root in your yard and they will multiply and there will be more and more for you to give away! The supply is absolutely endless! You will not feel drained by the outstretched hands. It doesn't matter if someone gives you plastic flowers...because that is what will grow in their own yard, not yours. Plastic flowers fade away just like the trash.

It doesn't matter if people dump garbage in your yard...because that is what will grown in their own yards, not yours. Don't give fake flowers. Don't give garbage. Because it is what you give. It is only what you give that effects your yard.

The barren dirt yards? People can hide inside and try not to participate--give nothing at all. Free will and all that. (Sounded tempting to me!) But their fear creates garbage you can't see from the street. (Dang mind-reader!)

All the houses are from the same blueprint. Some people try to hide away their trash by hauling it into the back yard, or to the cellar, or the attic--he giggled. Makes no difference. You may be able to hide some things from passers by on the street, fill your yard with plastic flowers, but in the end--you are the only one responsible for the state of your own house.

Remember, only real flowers can root and grow and multiply. Only real flowers can make garbage fade away and disappear. There is love and there is fear. There are sides. You do have a choice. You just felt the invincible strength and power of love. Why would you be afraid?

And he was gone.

****

I have been milling on this concept and practicing when I was able (not easy, but so worth it!) for almost 30 years. I am still afraid. But less and less so. I try not to hide my trash. Admittedly, I may have a little tucked away in the basement, but the vast majority is out front for the world to see. I have my own little flower garden that I give freely from! (But I really do need to work on my house.) The rare times I was feeling I was going to run out of flowers, I always recognized I had more garbage in my yard--and I knew how to go about fixing that. Some very old, very large trash piles are quite small now. I have long forgiven (well, maybe 98%) the two husbands, for example--LOL!

Flowers and Garbage is a simple idea for me to picture--like the red rubber ball thing. GA knows what will work best with me.

Flowers and Garbage-Part One

I'm not sure how long I waited...every single night...mulling...ruminating...and, honestly, more than a little annoyed with God. How could we be left to flounder like this? How do we recognize and deal with evil? If I was always on guard and needed to be prepared to protect myself, how could I ever again be a loving and open person? How could I live being suspicious of every person I meet? Am I supposed to do battle? Or are we supposed to go forward like lambs to the slaughter and just take it? Are we not supposed to protect ourselves? How can we all be children of God when we are capable of such unspeakable things? And often in God's name? I ask for help, I get silence. Nothing. I'll figure this out on my own then--thank you very much!

Weeks went by and--surprise--I hadn't figured anything out. My anger had waned, my resolve to do this on my own come hell or high water had eroded, my heart withered at the prospect of toe to toe battle...I felt weak and small and defeated before I began. But...the beauty of this world could reduce me to tears! I truly believed I did love my son more than my own life! There were acts of love everywhere...both fierce and tender...that blasted light to the heavens and beyond...that could drop me to my knees! If I was a fool for love...of people, the earth, living things...so be it. I knew that swelling of the heart that words cannot express...that lifts your soul and fills you with unspeakable joy. I pick that! If it is the last thing I do on this earth, I--pick--that!!

I knew I couldn't do it alone for very long. But what choice did I have? I knew my very soul couldn't survive...refused to survive...in that empty darkness of the last year. There was no choice for me. I'd rather be dead than give up on love...goodness...joy! I tried living without it--it sucked!!! But I was soul-exhausted and beaten down. World weary to my bones. Didn't even know where or how to start...too tired to start if I did know.

Gasping...heaving...tears...

Well, I've never known how to actually put into words what happened next. The closest I can come is that it almost felt like I was being hugged...by Jesus? Angel? God? It honestly doesn't matter to me who or what it was. I suddenly felt my entire body physically enveloped, cocooned, by this peaceful, lifting calm of pure, pure, unconditional love...that was intense, strong, powerful! Unassailable truth! Lightly vibrating waves of energy kind of washed right through me.

Then it lifted away and was gone.

Me. I was speechless.

But GA sure wasn't. He (obviously not the hugger and greatly disturbing my state of bliss) couldn't stop giggling!

So--he chortled--little old you were going to take on the very devil himself all by your lonesome small self?

Having just had a personal glimpse of the true power of goodness and love that can conquer all...and knowing my own flawed self as I do...I started to laugh at the audacious silliness of it all. My body, my soul, welcomed it like a long lost friend. It made me realize that I hadn't genuinely laughed in a very long time--always a bad sign. GA can always find a way to get me to laugh at myself--not take myself so seriously. What absolute foolish arrogance!!! Oh, I had missed the joy of laughter so very much.

We laughed and laughed and laughed. I could tell GA was glad to have me back.

And when I was quietly blissed out by giggles...

GA gave me the vision of Flower and Garbage. :):)

Flowers and Garbage-Prologue Part Three

Evil was everywhere! Selfishness ruled no matter where I looked--cruelty, fighting, deceit, greed, condemnation, aggrandizing, indifference, thievery, murder, abuse...even everywhere I looked in me.

I questioned my own motivation for anything supposedly good or nice I had ever said or done. Helping people had made me feel good. Did I stay up all night with the people on the bummers because, deep down, it made me feel better about myself? Because it felt good to be needed by strangers and known to be useful in situations other people ran from? Ego! It could be traced back to ego!

My dear son. Did I think I loved him so much just because of that big hole I had in my chest ever since I can remember and I was just trying to fill it up? Had I been worrying about his body and soul, going without sleep, holding vigil over him--was that actually just fulfilling some ego need of mine? To focus on someone else instead of looking into my own dark soul? Yes. That could be true! Did I really, truly love him if I couldn't teach him about this selfish, evil world so he could protect himself and claw out his own corner of it? Or did I just selfishly want to see someone else hang on to ideals and fantasies that I was having a hard time letting go of? Was love just selfish, too? I was nothing but a dark, tattered ego...out for myself...just like everybody else fighting for survival down here. God this was a horrible place! And where was God, anyways? Was there even something beyond us? Was there anything truly good and pure out there?

I remembered hearing about people who gave away their food in the concentration camps. Was that somehow selfish, too? I started reading every personal account I could find on the holocaust--devoured them--searching in true darkness to find an act of unconditional love. Something that was pure goodness. Something where I couldn't uncover a subconscious selfish motivation. Just me. Nothing scientific. Just a personal quest for my own selfish soul's benefit, my own selfish opinion.

I'd read and read. Individuals would recount how a total stranger in the camp would give them food or clothing...or advice on how to survive. They didn't know the person--sometimes never saw them again after the one act of supposed kindness. But, did the person act because others may be watching (motivation for many) who might think better of them? Not really. Most of the inmates thought anything you did to not selfishly survive was crazy foolish! And if it was a soldier trying to whisper to you on arrival--they could be killed for that. Hummm....

I could see a subconscious selfish family line survival thing with giving food to relatives and lovers...but what would be the gain with an absolute stranger, no one watching you, and you are expecting to die? If we are bottom-line truly selfish and evil--what possible gain could there be? What advantage could there possibly be for you to give up something precious to your own selfish survival for a total stranger's?

Love? A spark of unconditional love...of something beyond the horror of this life? Why did it make me cry?

The more I examined it and rolled it over and looked at it from all sides...the brighter it was in the darkness. I believed it was as close to unconditional love as a human can probably get.

And I kept reading and reading...about the people who risked their own lives to hide and save the lives of others...and, most amazing, the ones who forgave their torturers...the murderers of their loved ones. Shining lights in the darkness! I would read and cry...as I am crying now writing this...

...and no matter what is real or isn't about our nature...just knowing these things exist makes my heart swell and my soul lift...I can physically feel it! Goodness! Love! That is as real as evil.

Suddenly I could see little bits of light--like stars in a black sky--everywhere I looked! It really is true...seek and ye shall find. You will find what you are looking for.

The last year had been bleak and hopeless. Had felt dead inside. I didn't want to live like that. It was a miserable existence. My soul had been shriveling away to something hard and dry. Yes, my eyes had been opened to evil, but...I also truly believed in good and love...

So, now what? I had never been good at seeing evil intentions, telling when people were lying to me...or just being able to protect myself, in general. But--I had absolutely had it with the darkness! If you believe in God, you had to believe in the Devil. If I believed in Good and Love--and I believed in Evil and Hate--well, then--enough fence sitting. Now that I knew--down to my core--I had to pick a side.

How could I teach Dagan how to survive and pick goodness and love if I was clueless how to run the nasty maze, myself?

Okay--I picked God/Good/Love and I was ready for battle. Felt tremendously overmatched and under-skilled, but I don't do things half-assed--was fully prepared to die trying. I knew how close I had been to losing my soul. I wasn't giving it up without a fight. And I announced all this to the heavens--to GA (my guardian angel)--to God.

"I am going to do this--with or without your help! I don't know what to do--how to protect myself. I am scared to death. I'm not a really good person, but I will not give up trying to be! If you are really out there--if you even care at all that someone like me is on your side--if you want to help me out--or even just give me a sign--I will wait for you every night before I fall asleep."

And every night I laid in bed and waited...and milled over questions in my mind. How do you know who to trust? How am I supposed to react when people are mean to me? Or I find out they have been lying to me? What about the people who seem to emotionally suck you dry? Should I still be suspicious of everyone? What should I say to Dagan? How to I teach him if I don't know yet? How do I deal with my anger with the people who do bad things? Should I stay away from people as much as possible? How do I protect myself? Do I need a big wall around my heart?.........

I milled and milled...and waited and waited...

Until one night. I was answered!! :):)

Flowers and Garbage-Prologue Part Two

First of all--before I forget:

The Red Rubber Ball.

I was in the kind of relationships where the "loved one" would constantly find fault with me. They'd know just which buttons to push to get me all wrapped up in defending myself against false accusations, insults, lies, and blame.

After the kids went to bed one night, one of these arguments ensued...for several hours. He finally went off to bed...feeling the victor in this endless battle. I felt drained and baffled. How could he not know who I really am? How could he say those things to me? How did I end up, in just a matter of months, in another marriage where I am defending myself all the time and I feel totally misunderstood and alone?

****

I was feeling pretty darn sorry for myself as I curled up on the pantry floor. As he snored, I cried...as silently as I could. With the first marriage, he was so seldom home and we so seldom had conversations that the insults and disgust was spread out infrequently compared to this endless barrage. This was not the man I fell in love with. This was not the man I thought I married. How could I be so foolish and, obviously, not even capable of seeing who they really were?

****

Crying in a ball on the pantry floor I got one of those "instant information" things from GA. I've had them enough times in my life that I know to pay attention. ;)

****

I watched this picture of my husband and I fighting. He threw a hard, little, red, rubber ball directly at my chest--hit me, knife sharp, right in the heart--and, when I went to defend myself, I was actually tossing the ball right back into his hands--and he would slam it into my chest again. This was the game.

****

And I wasn't supposed to defend myself anymore. I was supposed to just stand up straight--calmly--with my arms held wide open and let him hit my heart with that red rubber ball...and let it just slide off of me and roll to the floor. Don't play. No matter how much it hurts. Don't play. You know it is not true.

****

So, after that night, that is what I tried to do. I got sucked back in a few times, but the more I refused to play the less effective the game was for him and the easier it became for me to leave my arms wide open. No fun to play alone, I guess. And the clearer it became to me that, by attacking me, that kept the focus off of himself. I didn't have to attack him, in kind. He just felt me withdraw from the game--from him. And soon came the confessions.

****

So that is The Red Rubber Ball concept.

Has come in very handy many times in all sorts of relationships since then--even at work. ;)

****

Back to the Prologue...

****

It was a dark, dark year...

I still laughed, but I think I must have sounded more like one of those tough, hardened bar maids in the old west. Distant, joyless, sarcastic, defeated by life.

Once again, it was Dagan who changed my perspective. I noticed that I just couldn't teach my young boy the truth. That it was a dog eat dog world, that's it's a horrible place where you can't trust a word anybody says, that everyone is ultimately out for themselves, that we are all selfishly motivated...etc, etc. I couldn't get the words to come out of my mouth and into his ears...

Why? (I can never leave one of my whys alone--LOL!)

Did that mean I didn't really believe it? I loved my son, didn't I? I wanted to protect him. Why couldn't I teach him how to protect himself in this bleak and evil world? Teach him the way it really is out there? What was my selfish motive? It had to be selfish, right?

In the meantime, while these questions were going round in my head, a couple of people who were close to me were so very concerned about me that they finally convinced me to go in for counseling. I sat in her office and told her the facts of my life story (took many visits, as you can imagine--LOL!). But when she was up to speed, I had filled her in on what I had learned from the different experiences, and I wanted to talk about God and good and evil and how do you live down here...religion of any kind was off limits. She decided that I had such an emotionally traumatic life that I had become detached from my emotions and needed to go to a women's counseling group. I disagreed. Told her that when I cry, I cry alone. That I had felt these things and I had already cried about them, examined them, turned them inside out. She did say she'd never had a client who did the self-analyzing and probing that I did (see--not normal), but said there was nothing more she could do for me and sent me off to this woman's group for 12 weeks.

Ten to fourteen women showed up each week to sit in a big circle in our folding chairs. Every week we went around the circle and the women would each tell their stories and crumble into pieces. And if they were close and didn't crumble, the counselor prodded them until they did. Other women would pat them on the back and give them tissues. Judging from the woman in charge, the goal seemed to be to actually re-experience the traumatic event with great emotion and tears. Now, don't get me wrong. This is an excellent and necessary thing for people who have not ever dealt with those events. Some of these women had obviously never had anyone to talk to, had never thought about the whys, had never revisited the events, never pondered, never grappled with their life, you know? My heart went out to them. But I thought we should be focusing much more on the whys and the what to do about it in the future?

It took three weeks to get around the circle to me. My turn. By this time I understood why my original counselor thought I needed to go to this group--thought I wasn't in touch with my emotions. If this is what was "normal"--she was absolutely correct. I was not normal. I do not need or want pity or sympathy. Crying, for myself, is a very personal thing...and being there in this group made me realize that when I do cry (especially for myself) it is soul level crying. Much easier for me to cry for someone else. That is, why I seldom cry over my life and, if I do, it's between me and God, you know? Comes from my "safe place" and that is private. Up to me to choose who to share that with, if anybody.

Needless to say, I was a great disappointment to the tissue ladies and visibly frustrating to the prodding counselor. I have no problem telling anything about my life--and no problem not even being tempted to cry about it as I tell you. They have already settled into my core. Once I have deeply experienced, wallowed, searched, examined, shredded, wailed, evaluated, absorbed, and gleaned everything I can learn from whatever it was--then it is part of my past. Available to me at any time for even deeper knowledge and guidance, but--been there, done that. If I could have talked about what was actually bothering me right then--good and evil and god and life--I may have easily cried. That was present--unresolved--raw. But I discovered, just as in the individual counseling sessions, we were not allowed to talk about anything remotely spiritual or religious.

The group counselor called the individual counselor who called me--to tell me I could come back to her after the group sessions were over. I thought I was going to cry out of frustration!! LOL!

I lasted five weeks in group. Watched and listened as they went around the circle again...nothing new, nothing learned, just reliving the pain--over and over. Discovered during the coffee and cookie sessions afterwards that a lot of these women went from group to group to group and had been going for years!

I thanked both of the counselors. Told them that I learned that my issues were not just about what happened and how I felt. They were all about much deeper whys and were absolutely between me and God.

I decided that if I was going to teach Dagan the truth, to the best of my ability, then I needed a better idea what it was. I had to closely examine evil--hatred--selfishness...which led me on a hunt for unconditional love...

To be continued...

Flowers and Garbage-Prologue Part One

I woke up thinking about Flowers and Garbage so I figured I would just dedicate myself today to trying to put this into words again. Not an easy task, as it is a concept that spreads out in all directions like a drop of water on a still pond. That's why I was curious to see what I had written down almost 30 years ago because, since then, flowers and garbage has never left me and has actually grown over the years to cover light and darkness. (The above sunrise this morning seemed quite appropriate--LOL!) Don't worry. I promise I won't overdo, so this could end up being told in parts for all I know. I won't know until my timer and I really get into this. ;)

Okay, I need to start by telling you the backstory of how my arrogant, self-pitying, demanding, stubborn self was given this whole concept in the first place. ;)

****

I had already had my heart broken more than once, been raped, robbed, lied to, cheated on, back-stabbed, homeless, seen miracles, cheated death with Dagan, and always managed to survive and land on my feet without my spirit being broken. I still loved life, had faith in people, and had managed to retain my optimism and my belief in goodness and in love conquering all...kind of by the skin of my teeth through sheer determination, despite evidence to the contrary--ROFL! My tattered flower child soul had managed to survive.

My relationship with Dagan's father was oddly sterile, unhealthy, one-sided, and heart-breaking. We were together and apart, together and apart--before we were married, during the marriage, and after the marriage. He'd want me, tell me everything I wanted to hear, get me back, lose interest, and discard me--and later Dagan, too. (Dagan was expected to die, after all, so he didn't want to get attached to a son he was going to lose.)

It was Dagan who changed my perspective. Freezing me out and insulting me was one thing, but hurting my baby boy was another thing altogether. I left Dagan's dad whenDagan was two and didn't go back to him.

A few years go by and lots of things happen. I am more and more confused by people--and how to remain a good, open, honest person when some people seemed to take that as an open invitation to attack. But most people were nice, life went on, and I assumed I would figure it out one day if I just tried hard enough and didn't give up.

I had been in PWP (Parents Without Partners) for a couple of years when this guy I had seen around for a long time kind of zeroed in on me. He seemed too good to be true. (Red flag, people!) Was divorced and had custody of his two boys--so must have been a great guy to have custody, right? (I had no idea you could frighten an ex-wife into handing over a child.) Long story short--he told me toward the end of our brief one-year marriage that he had been watching me and listening to me for over a year at PWP functions and knew exactly what to tell me--what I wanted to hear. He cut way back on his drinking and even quit to "get me". After we were married he went back to steady drinking, secretly. Confessing all this, he honestly believed that I would forgive him and stay.

Stay with a man who (within six months of our marriage) was like Jekyll and Hyde, who beat his oldest son, who screamed in my face, smashed things when he was angry, who threatened to shoot me, who refused to get help for his confessed perpetual drinking, whose devoted 9-yr old attack dog put his muscular doberman body between us and growled at his master when he threatened me? I don't think so. It's one thing to leave me shaking and trembling while the kids slept, but nobody messes with my Dagan. This was escalating quickly. I saw the blood and bruises on his own son when he slumped back into the house after his dad "taught him a lesson". I knew eventually it would be me...it would be Dagan (he was just seven years old).

Nobody hits me. Nobody messes with my son.

I secretly borrowed the money, found an apartment, had Dagan staying elsewhere, and broke the news that I wanted a divorce and was moving out. He kicked and beat the dog out of the house, spittle sprayed on my face, furniture flew, but I didn't flinch or back down. (GA gave me the "red rubber ball" vision that helped me so much--explain later.) He threatened to shoot me...in tears, to shoot himself. I learned that when it comes to my soul...I'd rather be dead than give it away.

The divorce was volatile, to say the least. He'd go from begging me to come back, to threatening and stalking me. I was moving things in a Pacer (had just learned to drive that year at 30) and needed him to help me move the bigger furniture. He'd bring over one thing at a time to drag it out. Give me things. Ask for them back (including the used Pacer). I'd never argue--bring whatever back the next day while he was at work (including the car) and then he'd call and tell me to take whatever again. (Even yarn plant hangers!?)

Guess who started coming around telling me how much he'd changed in the past five years and wanting to be a shoulder for me to cry on? Yup! And guess who was gullible enough to believe him? Yup! Frying pan into the fire.

Several months later I was over at Dagan's dad's house washing clothes, running a bit later than usual, and the phone rang. When I answered this young girl was really upset and demanded to know who the hell I was. His ex-wife. Click. Suddenly memories of other young girls (waitresses from work) and other odd things kind of fell into place...and I decided to hell with trust and scruples...and went thru his house. I found love letters from this girl...who dotted her "i"s with hearts. Took them with me and left.

That night I left Dagan with my sister and drove to his house to confront him...threw the letters in his face! And you know what he was upset about? He absolutely could not believe that I had gone through his things--was shocked! He knew me that well. Had been so confident I would never break my own moral code that he let me come over and wash clothes by myself at his house for months. He informed me that he was bored with me, anyways. I was no challenge because I believed anything anybody told me. "You have sucker written right across your forehead." He laughed. I cried.

I broke.

My soul cracked.

I had always told myself that if people really knew they were hurting other people they probably wouldn't do or say what they did. They are just self-involved or misguided or damaged, as we all are to some degree. I'd make excuses. I'd forgive. Sometimes with gritted teeth, but I'd forgive, right? But he had known me better than anyone. Knew the hell I had just endured with my second marriage. He had hurt me deliberately. With malice and cruelty--and for sport, apparently.

I had looked evil in the smiling face. Could find no good...no excuses...no forgiveness.

I was destroyed. Stricken to the core. Devastated. I laid in bed and couldn't move for two days. Overwhelmed with the bleakness. Immobilized by fear. How do I live in this world? How do I function? How can I protect myself? How can I protect Dagan? I have just been a human target with a big neon arrow over my head...with "sucker" on my forehead...and big sign on my chest shouting "foolish flower child soul--strike here".

I saw evil everywhere I looked--in some form, on some level or another--including my own dark side I had been battling all my life.

I gave up.

I became bitter. Hard. Sarcastic. I didn't trust anybody. It was a dog eat dog world. I had just been too naive and blind to see it.

People who were close to me were very worried about me. Please! This isn't you! You're not like this!

How the hell do you know?

People had told me over the years--you have your head in the clouds--you're just weird--you think too much--you're not being realistic--normal people aren't like that--you're not like other people...

Well, maybe I wasn't!

But you get your heart ripped out and your teeth kicked in enough times and you finally wise up to how things really are in this world.

It was a dark, dark year.

To be continued......

Me, GA, and SC-Part 6: Soul Comfort

Okay--it's New Year's Eve morning and this is the final installment. :)

You'd think I'd remember the date on something as monumental as this, but I don't. I'm sure I have it written down somewhere in my "Angel Books" (small spiral notebooks where I thought on paper to GA about all this stuff--which I definitely am glad I didn't destroy and think I should go back and read now). Anyways, the years I did energy work mostly were from 1993 to 1999 when I moved up here to Fargo-Moorhead--and very infrequently the last two of those years due to the hours I put in at the senior building working two jobs.

I'm guessing this was somewhere in 1995:

The hypnotherapist, Gary, and I had worked out a trade. I was hoping to get more information through hypnosis. Gary did hypnosis sessions with me and then I did some energy work with him.

I found that I could use Healing Touch methods to work my way around the person, but then when I got back to their heads I always felt compelled to stay there. Had this strong need to hold their head in my hands--and even got to where I had a specific placement of my fingers cupping the sides of their head with thumbs near their crown that just felt right. People said they could feel energy coming down their body from their head and many people dozed off--hehe! I had occasionally been feeling more of that zappy energy when I worked on people--that tingly feeling I got coming down into the top of my head and out my hands.

Gary usually scheduled me as his last client so that I could work on him after he did the hypnosis session with me and we had no time constraints. We'd pull his big comfortable hypnosis lounger chair out into the room so that I could make my way around the lounger and eventually sit in a hardback chair behind his head. We had already done this a couple of times previously, so we kind of had a routine.

I'd worked my way around his body, had settled into the chair, and was holding his head as he lay prone in the lounger. Everything was normal, but I remember I did feel more energy in my hands the whole time before I got to his head.

After a couple of minutes something started to happen to me. The tingling sensation washed strongly down over my entire body and I had this feeling more was coming. I remember I kind of sucked in my breath and was actually frightened for a moment. The unknown, you know?! Get ready--GA popped into my head--and I automatically started this rapid mouth/nose breathing thing I'd never done in my life--and felt like I was almost lifted up ram-rod straight in that chair. Open your heart. I quit resisting it at all--handed myself over--trusting GA...and this tremendous force of vibrating energy came down through the top of my head, bolted me to the spot, and quite literally took my breath away.

I couldn't move--my hands, my feet, my body--and I could feel my hands vibrating on the sides of Gary's head. The energy came in waves--down into the top of my head and out my hands. Tears streamed down my face. I don't even know how to describe the experience very well in words. Was like having this pure god-love passing through my body. Total peace, joy, love, forgiveness... Awe--no, there's not a big enough word for how that vibrating energy felt flowing through me.

After about 10 minutes the waves subsided and my hands slowly stopped vibrating. I felt crazy wonderful--like floating with joy! Gary had listened to my sudden panting and how I stopped just as suddenly and felt my hands start to vibrate. He had just kept quiet and let the energy flow through him. Listened to me tell him afterwards what happened to me. Neither of us knew exactly what had happened, but knew it was a good thing. :)

I thought this intense energy occurrence was probably a one-time thing, you know? But then later on it happened again when I was working on somebody else! And then again. I asked the ladies in the Women's Group, but none of them had heard of anything like it.

[Aside: The women asked me to see if it might happen with one of them at one of our meetings. To my surprise--it happened. Jill, the really visual one who did long-distance healing on Dagan, said she saw this huge pillar of white light come down from above me that enveloped my entire body and also the person I was working on!?]

The intense vibrating energy would happen randomly and very infrequently. Never happened with the same person twice. I had no control over who or when. If I tried to force it to happen--the energy actually dropped. Like GA indicated in the first place--I had to get out of the way. My ego cannot be involved--at all--like in a crisis. That energy passes through me--like a super straw--but it's none of my business, you know? It is not mine to control or direct. True--who am I to think I could know what a particular soul needs? Just like with the people on the bummers--and how I trusted that I would be guided. Not my doing. Faith. (Honestly--I would probably screw it up if my head consciously got involved--ROFL!)

GA gave me a kind of image one time of there being layers and layers of energy--from deep inside a person's body and spreading outward--very far, actually. A person may have physical, intellectual, or emotional issues--but all those obstacles or wounds or blockages or whatever you want to call them--they are all chosen to be carried by that soul--sometimes for many lifetimes. They can choose to learn, accept, and release them, too. Free will. And since we don't know what particular soul lesson is being learned, we don't know what obstacles that individual needs to learn to overcome. Or when divine elimination of an obstacle may be the very source of knowledge for that particular soul. (God can do anything.)

This gift of free will is a double-edged sword. We can be our own worst enemy. When we don't have to be. We can choose to cling to our particular dark spots or obstacles and carry them with us. When, in fact, each of us is a shining, pure, vibrational note of soul energy. One unique note in God's orchestral symphony.

This godforce energy felt too--well--holy for me to be calling it "bunny stuff" anymore. Good grief! That was like making light of something that felt so precious, you know? It was actually GA who gave me the term "soul comfort" to describe it. Perfect!

Well, looking back, I would probably guess that what I came to call the "full blown soul comfort" only happened maybe a dozen times altogether. The last time was a while before I moved up here in 1999.

[Aside: I bought my very first computer in 1998. When I was supposed to pick a screen name--and back then they told people not to use their own names--just to be clear on this, it was GA who wanted me to use soulcomfort. That just seemed sooo arrogant and was extremely uncomfortable to me. I couldn't decide on another name--kind of argued in my head, like we do, over this for a day or two. (I only had a couple hours a day online available to me back then-on call and only one phone line.) What GA does--he just keeps popping something into my head--over and over and over. Very annoying when you are trying to work. I finally relented. (Figured I could change it later, but get him off my case--hehe!) Turned out--over the years--I have grown comfortable with it. But now that I have told you all this story--maybe not so much anymore.]

Well, all of this long tale was actually leading somewhere. GA gave me new "information" mid-December. I am supposed to learn how to do the full blown Soul Comfort here--by myself. Just send it outward.

Say what?! (He's been really quiet for the better part of a decade! Then, out of the clear blue sky he hits me with this!?)

It's for you, too--he tells me.

That struck to the very heart of one of my major core issues. Not feeling worthy. Makes me cry to even talk about this. I've been getting from GA that, for it to work the very best way, I have to include the straw itself--allowing and absorbing that energy, too.

I have been wrestling with this for the last two weeks. Feels like a lifetime ago that I was doing energy work--over 11 years now. Truth--GA wanted me to write about all of this for all these days and be done by today--New Year's Eve. I got that loud and clear after Dagan and Leah and I had Sacred Circle on the 21st. Probably because I needed to let this sink in and I told Daganand Leah I planned to start trying to learn how to do this at my usual New Year's Eve ceremony I'd be doing by myself. (Can check other years on my blog.)

As I told you--it is shocking how well I have been physically doing despite sitting at the computer all these hours--for all these days! (Maybe I am already accepting some of that energy??) And I know one big reason why he wanted me to write about this. When I write--I kind of go back there, you know? The writing has turned out to be almost like spiritual prep time--ROFL!

I'm sure I'll have more to say along the line, but now you are all caught up. 2011 is the year for Soul Comfort. Since it took me a long time (1-2 years?) to build up to being able to handle the intensity of that energy before, I am not expecting to reach that point for quite a while--but I will tell you all about it if and when it happens. :):)

Tonight: I will gather up all my crystals and such, like I always do. Since we just had Sacred Circle and did the angel cards and burning bowl--I think I will just write in my brand new spiritual journal. And then I am going to light a candle, turn on my Music To Disappear In CD (yes, I have it on CD now--wore out a couple cassettes--hehe!), sit quietly, and hand myself over.

Wish me luck! :)

Happy, happy, happy new year!!!

Me, GA, and SC-Part 5: Energy Work

Let's start out with a little giggle this morning. Truth be told--this is who I've been sleeping with for the past 17 years.

The "bunny stuff" bunny. He doesn't look too much the worse for wear for sleeping cuddled under my chin lo these many years. He had a big red ribbon around his neck when he was new but that got in the way and was removed posthaste. Oddly, he has no name. I, who name sooo many inanimate objects, have always just called him "the bunny stuff bunny". He's been fine with that. :)

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Okay--practicing on people.

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I really didn't know what to do. Kept "getting" to think about mother's and babies--and how mother's send energy to their babies without even knowing it. A love energy. How I knew to keep people who were upset (myself included) away from Dagan when he was an infant in the neo-natal unit--to surround him with positive energy. People send energy without knowing it--all the time--positive, negative, neutral.

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Well, all I could think of was to sit across from somebody--either cross-legged on the floor or seated in chairs--and hold hands. (I felt like I wanted to put my hands on people's heads, but that seemed a bit forward for a Minnesotan, ya know.) We'd try to send energy and see if we could feel anything. Naturally I started with very close friends, Dagan, and the man I was still living with at the time. We'd put on Music To Disappear In and sit quietly holding hands. Some people said they could feel a little something. Sometimes I could feel a little of that tingling down my arms like I got when I was zapped. Nothing too exciting or definite, to be perfectly honest. But it was pleasant and meditative.

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Found that if I stood up and the person was in the chair--then I felt more of that tingling sensation. Seemed more "right" for some reason. I was kind of surprised that people volunteered (I've always been a talker) from the pet shop where I worked and there were a few other people--relatives or friends of people I had done "bunny stuff" with. I started hearing about "energy work", of course. You know how when you move in a new direction, suddenly you hear what you need to hear? People would tell me that the "bunny stuff" must be energy work.

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To be honest, trying to remember back--well, I'm not sure about the order of things with the energy work. There was so much else going on in my life at the time, too. My relationship ended, I tried to stay in a place that was too expensive for me (we had a lease), I got my fingers in that pressure roller at the factory (crushed the bones in two fingertips and tore the fleshy part of the one almost off), moved to a cheaper apartment in Osseo, the muscles shredded in my wrist from compensating for the finger accident about a year or so later (lack of grip and had to lift 100 pound+ rolls of paper), eventually they let me go from my job (after they re-injured my wrist 4 times-no union-either I did what they said or I'd be fired with no workman's comp-didn't care that the doctors said I couldn't do the work-sent me to different ones till I got one who said it was all in my head, etc), had to file bankruptcy, Dagancollapsed at the driving range (heart failure-had surgery to save his life-but invalid-wheelchair-could barely walk), I was supposed to be looking for work (Workman's comp was threatening to cut me off), but Dagan needed 24 hour care, experimental surgery at University of Minnesota, Dagan made it back to college up here in Moorhead, and I was suddenly offered a position (off the record by my comp job lady, because it had no pay) as a live-in emergency response person in an elderly complex (didn't have to lift anybody because not allowed to for insurance reasons). Makes me tired just to write all that down--hehe!

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Anyways, during all these life happenings (a couple of years worth)...there was lots of energy stuff going on, too. I remember using visualization on my torn finger-imagining it looking like the other hand (it does and has feeling, too!). They made me wrap it and go clean and scrap machines since I couldn't run mine one-handed--and got a raging infection from it being wrapped in plastic and being around 100 or so degrees by the glue machines. Medications weren't helping-doctor was talking about having to cut it open again and drain it (awwwkk!)--so I tried to think about kind of imagining it draining (and it went down). And I used a kind of meditation to deal with the pain level.

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When the factory folk were trying to force me to leave the job (so they wouldn't have to pay me unemployment, either)--they had re-injured me so many times that my whole arm was really bad up to my arm pit and in a sling so they finally quit trying to force me to use my bad arm. BUT--they still made me come to work and made everybody else do my work for me. *sigh* All I could do was turn my machine off and on--other rewinders had to come and do all the physical work (90% of the job) and yet they were counting my output as a worker--so this effected our shift's bonuses! I worked the night shift. We used to illegally play radios on the night shift. They knew this and ignored it. But suddenly they actually had office people pop in during the night to make sure we weren't listening to the radio--or doing any of the other things we did for the ten minutes while our rolls were finally rewinding. So-no music, no reading, and no writing letters (me, of course). So all of us were punished on the whole shift because of me. I felt just horrible about it. Luckily people liked me. They knew I wasn't faking anything and that I'd be on the street if I had no job and the company was just trying to get out of paying me anything. What a wonderful group of people!!

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Anyways- *deep breath*-what better opportunity to learn how to meditate and be in the present moment. I had all night, every shift, for over three monthsbefore they finally relented and let me go. Thanks to them, tho, I learned a lot of things about energy and meditation, mind over matter, focus, sending positive energy (to all those wonderful people!)...lots of things.

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Along the line over those couple of years I took levels one and two in Reiki. I was searching for some kind of actual energy work that felt right for me. Reikididn't. Becoming a "master" was a long, very expensive, secretive process. I believed that positive energy was something that should be open and shared--shouted from the rooftops, actually. :)

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My friend, Lynnette, found out about a Healing Touch seminar. She's a nurse and this was one of the things she could attend for recertification. We went together. Healing Touch was awesome! It's an umbrella term for several modalities and they talked about how everyone can learn this and sharing the knowledge, etc. Ahhh! I attended all the classes for Level One and for Level Two at St. Catherine's college. (Finished Level Two certification while I lived at the senior complex.)

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Oh--and I went to classes called "Talk To Your Angels" (how could I resist!) and the lady running the class invited me to a Woman's Spiritual Group that rotated meeting at the women's homes. I felt totally out of my comfort zone, but I went. And I met these wonderful ladies! Some of them were energy workers, psychics, long distance healers, etc. Some were visual, audio,kinesthetic (learned a lot of new terms and of books to read). Had no idea why I was invited, but I was thrilled to be there. They disbanded years ago and I moved away from Minneapolis, but I still miss that group of women.

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When Dagan ended up an invalid for those months after his surgery at Children's--well, one of the things was that he'd had a blood clot land in a lung (thank God-watched him having a stroke as it passed through his brain). Couldn't dissolve it--even with a tube into his lung dripping directly onto the clot. They said he had permanent lung damage to the bottom third of his lung. Plus, when he sat upright he lost blood pressure and oxygen because he's always had a tendency in that direction and the pressure had been so high in his heart when they did the Fontan re-do after he collapsed in heart failure that they had to put a hole between the top two chambers.

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The experimental surgery at the University of Minnesota was to go in via acatherization procedure (wire up the groin into the heart) and attempt to close the hole. They'd release a patch on one side of the hole and then a patch on the other side. (Commonly done now and called something else.) But they weren't hopeful about the pressure in his heart because it had always been on the high side to begin with and there were no guarantees that they could leave the patch in. They'd have to try it and wait and see about the pressure and remove it right away if it was too high. The new procedure was called "angel wings". Need I say more. Dagan and I both thought he should go for it. :):)

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Meanwhile--the ladies in the Woman's Spiritual Group told me that had been doing long-distance healing on Dagan. Several of them had come over when he was still in Children's and we did a healing energy circle standing around his bed. The one lady, Jill, had been working on him a lot on her own, too, over those months and she told me he was better and that his lung was healed. Well, when Dagan went for the Angel Wings surgery they were shocked to find out the pressure in his heart was suddenly lower than it had ever been since he was born! So they were able to "install" his heart angel wings--hehe! And they thought as long as they were in there they took a camera down to look at the lung damage--"don't know what they were talking about at Children's, we couldn't find any damage in either lung." (Jill always said she could "see" into people's bodies when she was doing long distance work on them. Totally, totally believed her after that!!)

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Just writing about all of this makes me feel like dancing! :):)

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I was told about a Unity Church and a Lake Harriet Community Church in Minneapolis--that they both had people there who did energy work. I had to go check that out! Ended up volunteering at both churches doing Healing Touch. At Unity they worked on people while they sat in a chair. At Lake Harriet they had rooms with massage tables! I volunteered mostly at Lake Harriet. I could bring my boom box and MTDI cassette, a candle, and have a little privacy and quiet. Was wonderful! People tended to fall asleep on me--hehe!

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That's it for today. I'm still on schedule, I think. One more part left and you should be basically all filled in. TaDa!

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I just wanted to say that if anyone wants to talk to me privately or ask me questions or tell me their own stories...please feel free to email me. Just put something in the subject line so I know you're not spam--hehe! (soulcomfortat gmail dot com) I may be very open about myself, but I greatly respect other's privacy.

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This is food for my soul!! :):):)