Swimsuit isn't even wet yet

This week’s experience with Network Care had more of me merging with more of me, an idea perhaps best described as the image it produced in my head:

I saw the physical form of me wading into a lovely woodland pond. The pond, I knew, was the true me, the whole soul me, and wading deeper into me felt exciting and right. As I lay on the entrainment table at “Doctor Cutie’s” office, I was overcome with how much I’d missed me, though I still have no conscious memory of being discarnate (is that a word?)

And even as I’m excited by this development, I’m even more excited to realize I’m not even far/deep enough to get my swimsuit wet. There’s much, much more of me to come.


We are not growing. We are unfolding to see what is already there–the god within all of us.

If ever I doubt I've come a long way, remind me of this…

Sometime in the early ’90s (= me around age 30), two friends and I went to a nearby Renaissance Faire. We all agreed to visit Rita, a much-recommended fortune teller. Friend One entered Rita’s gypsy-style caravan and later popped out with a thoughtful expression and a cassette tape recording of what Rita had said. Friend Two did the same. But Rita, an energy/aura reader, struggled when it was my turn. “You’re a very private person,” she said. She struggled some more, finally asking me to speak to her of inconsequential/impersonal things, such as what I’d eaten for dinner, just so my voice might help her. Finally, she gave up.

Rita refunded my money and suggested I see the Faire’s palm reader.

When I told my mother this story, she said, “I’m not surprised–I never know what you’re thinking.”

Well, things change! Last Saturday, I told this story to a couple of friends who only met me in 2006. They were stunned. They simply couldn’t imagine a version of me that was that guarded/closed-up. These women, I realized, never knew “Sarah,” the name I used for decades before reclaiming my childhood identity.  They are completely unfamiliar with her insecurities and other assorted baggage. How wonderful is that?

I can keep the transformation fueled by all that baggage without needing to identify with its old energy.

And having gone through the process, I’m free to use past pain in other ways. I have now written three books featuring a main character who is either self-righteous about something or more generally something of a control freak, who needs to loosen up and accept that there are other viewpoints and ways of doing things. Further, I recognized “control” as just another name for fear, and of course, we must surrender fear to truly experience love.

As a fun aside…The trip to the Fair was May 1st. In honor of the day, we each carried an armload of carnations and whenever anyone noticed the flowers, we’d beam and give him or her one of the carnations along with wishes for a happy May Day. It was such fun to see strangers suddenly light up! And it cost us just a few bucks each. Wow.

Bye, bye dusty ficus

Last week, I was reading an article connecting the (then upcoming) new moon and feng shui, with the advice to do some enhancements in the part of the bagua that corresponds to 29 degrees of Cancer in your astrological birth chart. (29 degrees of Cancer was the position of this particular new moon, I suppose–I don’t really understand it.) For me, it’s right on the border between Relationships and Creativity. I said some affirmations as I cleaned a cloudy mirror and the dirty glass in a picture frame in the relationship area, as well as getting rid of clutter. The Creativity area got a little more attention. I tossed a bunch of stuff, including the dusty faux ficus tree in the corner of the bedroom, changed what was displayed on one of the nightstands and brought in 3 fresh flower blooms (3 is the number associated with that area), again with affirmations. In fact, I wrote out affirmations on nice stationery and placed them in the associated areas.

I was amazed at the effect of taking out that tree. It had become invisible to me, except when I noticed how dusty it was. I really didn’t want to go to the effort of cleaning it and I know fake plants are not great feng shui anyway, but I initially resisted tossing it simply because I didn’t know what I might put in that spot instead. But then I remembered the Creative Intention workshop Consciousness Circle Helen and I attended last month in Wimberley, where in between releasing an old pattern and inviting in a new, we took time to appreciate the emptiness created by the release. So that’s what I’m doing–appreciating the emptiness, even as I’m getting excited by what creative ideas or projects might arrive now that I’ve created room.

The power of the unseen

The solar eclipse happened at 9:30 pm local time, so it was dark here before, during and after. But folks in other parts of the world had a different experience. Some of these photos are spectacular.


I especially love the faces.

"This is the calling forth"

That’s what I heard yesterday, as I lay on one of the tables in my Network Care practitioner’s entrainment room. It’s not uncommon for me to have spontaneous auditory experiences there, and this one came with the even more common experience of visualization. I saw my body lying there, and as the words came through, a far brighter, fuzzy-edged version of me expanded from my form.

Tonight in meditation, the visualization occurred repeatedly, except I wasn’t watching it happen to my body. I was inside my body, experiencing it flashing out of me. First time, a part of me mused, “That’s me. I’m that bright light. Who’d have thought I’d become…?”

Immediately, I answered me, “They wouldn’t. That’s the point. We don’t think our way there. We simply are.”

Clean, clear, repair, repeat

A floor rolling with dust bunnies bothers me far less than a desk covered with piles of clutter. Even before I heard the term “feng shui,” I intuitively knew that decluttering was a quick way to raise my energy. Now I’m actively trying to engage feng shui principles, and continue to be amazed by how many clutter sources I’ve never addressed.

It’s not just the stuff on the desk. Or closet. It’s about the half-knitted sweater stashed among the craft supplies. The unlabeled keys that open who knows what  (and all those cords and adapters separated from mystery electronics probably long-since departed). The pretty shoes I’ve never worn. The apology I never offered. The drawer that won’t close. Etc. Etc.

This week, I got that drawer fixed. Likewise a door that no longer shut properly. I  took a torn-but-beloved linen tunic to the tailor for repair. I sorted through that box-o-cords and tossed all the orphans. I started filling a fresh bag with things to take to Goodwill.


As for the dust bunnies, I’m getting to those.