Heal

I accidentally found myself in an energy healing workshop yesterday. Sheryl gifted me this workshop thinking it was more of a spirit seminar that was designed to enhance creative potential.

Not so. This was a day with an energy healer who was dragging up some pretty dirty stuff out of people.
I've always known this. I'm an energy glom. I'm very sensitive to it, and it tends to stick to me. This can be good and this can be bad. However, I will say that a workshop that felt akin to the fundamental Christian faith healings really rattled my spirit.

After I processed the day twice; once to Misty and once to Sheryl who was apologizing profusely for the gift because she had no idea it would be like that, I resolutely announced that I need a spirit guide.

Truthfully, one on one, I might have really valued what the energy healer could do for me. After all, everything we are and everything around us is made of matter which is energy. Energy is real, and I do believe that we would be wise to accept that and begin to better understand how it can make us very sick, and how it can heal us. But doing this work in a group, is not something I would ever do again. It's just too dangerous.

I discovered, for myself, two things yesterday. Well, actually three. But I'll start with my own journey; which as been long, painful and confusing in the last few years. I have been searching for my path, but I've come to realize I was searching while looking at my feet instead of looking around. How silly for someone whose favorite quote is "get outside of yourself and look" - Thich Nhat Hahn. A reminder I suppose. This healer told me that souls of the dying are attaching themselves to me instead of passing on through.
Hmmm... I don't really believe in souls that stay in absolute tact when a body dies. I believe in energy dispersion that carries the consciousness of the soul it was into the universe. So to me, we're all a little bit of someone else. Maybe bigger particles or pieces of spirit stay better in tact and manifest as "someone else," but my belief is that energy from that body, along with our own loving memories are what "re-incarnate," if you will. Practically, of course we "re-incarnate." Whether we're burned or buried, all that body matter redisperses on the planet and organically grows into something else. That's just the cycle of life. So I'll meet the healer halfway and agree that some of that energy stays behind on me because I know I'm an energy magnet. I suppose the field staff could be carrying it in, or that I've got some old stuff on me from my days in the field. When I focused on it, it was unbelievably heavy, so she "released" it. I was staggering and lightheaded when I got home.
This cynic is here to tell you that stuff is real. That energy exists. So now I know this, and I can work on that and learn to dispel what I don't need and manifest what I do. By the way, I was so hot this morning that when I took a drink of lukewarm water while riding my bike, I actually had steam come off the water and fog my sunglasses. If that's not real, people, I don't know what is, so I really had to shake that stuff off. The earth gave me a cool wind to help, but as a whole, I had a hell of a time just peddling 8 miles.

So, there's that. Here's the second discovery.

My big delimma has been my social activism and peace work. It just isn't taking on the power of a true movement. It's just staying in a dull fizzle. So I asked that question. What about my social activism? I'm at a crossroads as to whether I should continue (The Peace from the Porch Project, community volunteering, helping music expand). She asked me to close my eyes and go into my heart center and let her know when I was there. I nodded my head when I was, and then she asked me, "Do you have spiritual support?" My consciousness went immediately black like a void and I said without hesitation, "No." "Then there's your answer."

I need a spirit guide. Not so that I can continue to create and guide kindness and good works to others, but because I'm cartwheeling out here by myself with lots of energy sticking onto me and pulling me which way and that. And I'm not manifesting my own destiny without one.
No spiritual support. Religion didn't do it. The people I've surrounded myself with haven't done it. I'm not working consciously towards it, so I'm no help to myself, and like I told the healer, I live and work right under the "buckle of the bible belt." Fear and oppression frame my physical world, and it does not look kindly on spirit quests, spirit guides or anything as remotely organic as returning to one's original self and the earth that supports us. The healer spoke often of God. She is not Christian, but Jesus has offered her a bridge to a new realm of existence on a number of ocassions. He has been the loving spirit to bring her safely across. She just doesn't worship him or give him sole ownership of that duty.

Here's number three. As an energy glom sitting in a room full of injured women, I was not liking what was coming in. These were all wonderful, enlightened and loving people, but as the healer worked, all kinds of deep, dark, traumatic shit blasted out of some of them. That crap's bad. It will stick if you let it. Needless to say, I resolutely stated to Misty and Sheryl, "I'm not going back tomorrow. I cannot do that two days in a row and then go to work and serve hospice patients and families with that junk on me." So, I'm home today.

The cat is curious about me. He's 19, and I think he was worried I'd send his old energy companion on its way, but I told him no worries. I really like having that old cat around. Sunny had concerns with my transformation, too. Isn't that interesting? They can see that we're different because our energies have changed. I've always known Sunny was an energy glom, too. She totally reacts to human energies and emotions even when they don't have physical manifestations. She must have a lot of bad matter stuck to her since she can be so mean. In fact, here she is right now. She knows I'm thinking about her.

I got up this morning and took a bike ride. It was really hard. I felt completely drained and very soon decided I would only ride the length of Bear Creek Road and back. There was no way I had the energy for Owl Creek Road's little dips and turns. As I rode, I tried to breathe off whatever it was that was dragging me down. I invited energies to leave. I breathed in the nourishing power of the wind and trees. And as I passed the Owl Creek turn off, an old fox simply stolled, slowly and determined, right across the road in front of me. I actually had to slow down. It never startled or tried to scurry across. It just took it's time, crawled under the fence and sat quietly in the underbrush. I rode on. As a person of the earth who replenishes through the earth (as manifested in my love of remote places like Big Bend), I understood it to be a spirit guide. The fox. Resourceful, patient, wise, illusive. As I turned around at the end of the road, I understood that my spirit guides are likely not human, they're the energy of the wise old earth and those beings that understand how to live here. I breathed in and thanked the trees, and there on the road, a snake was gently curled with its head and neck stetched away from its body. Another spirit guide beckoning to shed my skin and renew.

O.K. Now it all makes sense. I stopped thinking and became awake. Aware. The dragonflies buzzed around me. The transcendental carriers of spirit itself. The original sign of the cross as defined by the ancient native peoples of this land. And as I passed back through the fox's territory, there were its offspring. Young and quick. One quickly scurried back into the brush, the other ran along in front of me for awhile. It's so wonderful how we can see the source at work around us and for us if we just let ourselves engage. For the theistic believers, this is God at work, and we have to pay attention.

When I got home, I watered the plants, then came in for some brunch. The thought came to me that everything on this earth was created from the earth; including chemicals that started in some organic form. i.e. petroleum products. We have poisoned the earth with itself, and then we ingest the poison ourselves, thus poisoning our bodies with diseases of our own making. Whether it's a diet of primarily processed foods created from the gross poisoning of God's gifts from the earth or whether it's our unconscious magnetizing of bad energies (which would include bad food matter, by the way) that we never get rid of, we have sickened everything that is our existence. In turn, we become the assassins of everything good around us. We bring our dirty shit into the presence of others and poison the atmospheres that we're in - including social, work, and family - we treat the animals with irreverence and cruelty - whether it be neglect, abuse or the cruel process by which we raise our food - we wage war near and far as we resign ourselves to mean-spirited conflict resolution, and then finally, we absolutely REFUSE to listen to the messages coming in that implore us to change course for the sake of ourselves and the very existence of mankind. The earth will heal after humans wipe themselves out. We just won't be around to experience Eden's rebirth.

This healer believes that the higher powers are gathering as we speak for an event that will change the course of everything we know. She believes it is already manifesting itself. If she's right, I guess the question is "whose side will we be on?"

irony

This morning I grumbled about my weight. I've weighed the same amount for 3 years, and no matter what I do, I can't lose that last 8 pounds. Sheryl assured me that I look firm, and not fat at all. I grumbled some more about my gut. It won't go away. No matter how much I starve myself, it won't go away. And I just don't have the time to exercise more than I already do each day.

Starve is the irony.

This afternoon, I took a barrel of groceries to the local food pantry. I want to be happy eating less while I'm donating food to those who want to eat more.

You would think the impact of hunger would be enough to whip me into shape and knock off that stubborn 8 pounds. It doesn't.
I suppose guilt is a poor motivator. Bottom line, I'd like to be healthier. I'd like everyone to be healthier; even if that means everyone gets 3 nutritious meals a day. That they are not overweight due to poor nutrition. That given a choice, they can afford a well balanced meal as easily as they can afford a #1 from McDonald's. That they not be so exhausted from working two jobs that they can take a walk in the evenings, if they want to.
Wouldn't that be nice?

Why I support the second amendment

It's been a historic day, indeed. I am elated, to say the least. So thankful. Of course, the crazy cowboys around here are already inventing scare tactics regarding their right to bear arms. They are convinced, for no good reason, our new President will take away that right. I've come to believe that they're just too stupid and short sighted to think of an intelligent reason to oppose a president.

That said, I will admit that I hope I never lose my right to own a sawed-off 410 shotgun.
That's what I have.
I've never killed anything with it.
I tried to shoot a snake once and missed; which is damn hard to do with a shotgun, but I did. I'm glad I missed because that was back when my citification was still prevalent and I didn't know the difference between a common water snake and a cottonmouth. I tried to kill a harmless animal! And quite frankly, as long as the poisonous ones don't pose a threat - and they rarely do for mindful landowners- I'm not shooting at them either.
So why do I have this gun?
My daddy was a state trooper. Girls like me have guns. Our daddy's expect it of us... in case someone breaks in during the night. Our daddy's prefer to give us shotguns, "because EVERYBODY knows the sound a shotgun when it's cocked!" Theory being that the very sound of that ubiquitous "click" will send any intruder running for his life. Even girls can shoot your ass with a round of rat shot.
So why, at 44, do I STILL have this gun?
It's a disciplinary tool for dogs who won't come in at night because they're barking their screechy little heads off at things that are much meaner than them. Namely coyotes who are yipping out a translation that goes like this: "Come on, you little Quixote! Come a little closer. I need a stupid little snack!" At times I can't hear myself think from the barking and howling and general canine version of "No! Your mama!" Therefore, over the years (about once a year) I snap and run grab that little 410 and one shell. I run outside screaming, "EVERYBODY SHUT. UP!!!" ...and i load, cock and fire.

The sound is singular, loud and forever an echo through the countryside. That's the gun sound. The dog and coyote sound is the fast moving patter of paws in whichever direction they think they'll find cover. Coyotes run for the creek. Dogs run for the front door.

Once I used this tactic in the middle of the night on the Cairns. It was their first shotgun experience. Upon firing, Mairn took off like a missile in the wrong direction. Then like a ghost in the night, she whooshed by us and was on the couch in a flash. I swear, it was a blur like Superman on the move.

Cairns are smart. They record every detail of the process of getting gun, getting one shell, clicking open the barrel to load, clicking barrel shut, cocking, and firing.

Tonight, Marley (the male Cairn) was on a high pitched barking crusade somewhere in the middle of the hayfield. He refused to come in. "Let's get a treat" didn't even work. Folks. I'm tired. I was not in the mood to do this little game, so I went upstairs and got my gun. I flipped on the deck lights, walked out the front door, calling the dog, and he ran further into the night. I went to the edge of the deck and called him. I know he saw that gun, because he scurried to the other side of the guest house and sat really still. He'd bark maybe once or twice. I walked back around onto the front porch. He looked at me. He made like he was not coming inside. I clicked open the barrel of the gun.


He came inside.


That was it.

I followed him in, and everybody else had their little doggie heads lowered. It was solidarity in submission to Christy.

And all I had to do was load the gun.

If I ever lose my right to this little snake charmer of a weapon, I'm sending 6 dogs to Washington. Whoever sponsors the bill to recend the Second Amendment will be gifted to Cairn Terriers.