Why I Keep A Blog

Reading time: 2 – 4 minutes


I have chills. CHILLS, I say! Note that this excerpt is from 2004!!! Full post is in the link, but this excerpt is the amazing, AMAZING, relevant part! Well, at least it is to me… Part of why I keep a blog is to document these very things. If I had not had this documented, I would never have realized that some part of me “knew” about an event that would happen THREE YEARS later!

Wednesday, February 25, 2004


DREAM

I dreamt last night that I had discovered a new love for someplace in Europe, but I am not sure where I was. I have never been to Europe in my waking life. I was much younger in my dream, which has never happened before. I always dream of me as either non-age specific or my current age, but in this dream I was just about 20 years old. Apparently, I had gone to this place in Europe, then had left to go back to the States. I guess I had just returned again to Europe and had worked really hard to be able to come back. I vaguely think there was someone there whom I had fallen in love with and had vowed to return to him, but now I couldn’t find him. I remember walking down this lovely, quiet street and feeling so alone, but so happy to be back at the same time.

All I can say is… WOW. What the fuck part of me knew THIS PARTICULAR story about my life THREE YEARS before it happened!??? This isn’t the first time this has happened, but it is always chilling to me. This is the first time I have browsed back through my blog in a long time.

The irony is that this entry was three days after Nick dumped me in 2004.

Seems I was already looking for Jip in three years in advance, and feeling the loss.

NOTE: I’m not done reading through my archives, but a couple of days later in that year, I have a post about my having a dream about sharp pains in my chest, having to massage my chest to help relieve it, and being told by someone that my “heart had been scarred.” I wonder if this relates to the pneumonia.

Wow.

Why Do Bad Things Happen To Good People?

Reading time: 10 – 16 minutes

This is an entry from my M BLOG over at TruthLoveEnergy.com where I share channeling with clients and students from around the world. “Channeling” is the practice of going into an altered state of consciousness and being able to tune into another consciousness, energy, or level of the self, and then being able to deliver that through communication, healing, or insight. It’s not all that strange, really, because most forms of true creativity are forms of channeling; I just happen to specialize in connecting to a consciousness who claims to be an entity named MICHAEL (hence, M BLOG) with a teaching to share. The body of knowledge that has come to be accumulated over the years is known as THE MICHAEL TEACHINGS. There is more about all of this at my work site (truthloveenergy.com), so I won’t go into a lot of details here, but if it makes more sense for you to think of this as a creative writing practice, then that is just fine with me, too. Maybe that IS all it is, but whatever it is, it helps bring about some perspective.

Over the past few blog entries, I have been asking some tough questions of life, and here is where it led me:

It’s been weighing on my mind for some time now about the WHY of “bad things” happening to people who just don’t seem to deserve such a hard time. For instance, I feel like I have done nothing to warrant my having almost died, being dumped, and now living with a terminal illness. It just doesn’t seem fair.

It’s a difficult question to ask of ourselves, or of others, or of our concepts of “God,” and even of Michael.

WHY!!!??


Why ME!??

Why HIM??

Why HER?

WHY Them!?

WHY!!??

Is there really going to be an answer that satisfies us? It seems the only time we can find even a bit of relief from this question is when we are not going through whatever struggle we feel had been imposed upon us. At those points, it seems we can sort of see from a higher perspective and grasp these larger patterns of our lives. We might be able to make sense of all or part of a tragedy, or find a sense that there was nothing higher involved at all, but that it is normal to grieve, to feel loss, to mourn.

As I have been going through a lot, lately, it has caused a sensitivity in me for the pain around me. I’ve always had empathy in that way, but now it is almost unbearable. I see people as more fragile, scared, and struggling, even as they maintain their status quo, smiles intact, and keeping busy. It’s been hard for me to shake this. On the one hand, this gives me this beautiful sense of the innocence in all of us, but on the other hand, it feels like an overwhelming futility to care so much; like my head and heart are just going to be crushed under the weight of it all.

When I feel down or face difficulties in my life, one would think I turn immediately to Michael for insight and guidance, but I just don’t. Part of what I have learned over the years in my working with Michael is to learn how to trust and access my own sense of wisdom and direction and sense. I always turn to me, first. Much of the time, I am able to access that inner wisdom and compassion and work my way through the most painful and challenging aspects of life. When I cannot figure things out, I then turn to friends, even before Michael.

I think I don’t immediately turn to Michael for insight or guidance for the same reasons that Samantha of Bewitched denied her magic: you just want to figure things out on your own. It’s empowering, and Michael would agree. Beyond that, I just don’t want to treat Michael like some god that has all of the answers, because, frankly, they don’t.

But more often than not they do have incredible, vast wisdom that does transcend the claustrophobic pain of being in a body, and it’s nice to hear what they have to say.

So I posed the question:

Why do “bad” things happen to “good” people, Michael?

MICHAEL: When one equates pain with punishment, and pleasure as reward, it is easy to grasp why one would grow into a personal world where one is either punished or rewarded. Most of your species are raised on philosophies of “good” vs “bad,” which carries over into the personal score cards of life, efforts, and choices, leaving one to believe he is, ultimately, either “good” or “bad,” and deserving of appropriate responses from life. If one is “good,” one should not receive punishment, or “bad things” should not happen. If one is “bad,” it makes sense to many people that nothing “good” should happen to a “bad” person.

In reality, the concepts of “good” and “bad” are simply irrelevant. “Bad Things” do not happen to “Good People;” LIFE HAPPENS. It is not an either/or scenario, but a range of experiences. “Good” and “Bad” are entirely relative. Many of you may feel your lives are a series of sufferings and sacrifices, but many others would gladly trade their own lives for yours. This relativity does not diminish the experience of pain for any individual, however, because the root of all WHY involving “bad things” is BLAME.

Blame is a locking mechanism; an anchor to your pain. It does not allow for the higher perspective, or the comprehension that could bring peace. In a personal world of punishment and pleasure, reactions to difficulties can become a game of blame, with “thank you’s” for the “good,” and “fuck you’s” for the “bad.”

Asking WHY is a valid question, but most do not really mean WHY when faced with tragedies and suffering, but WHO. Who is going to pay for this? Who did this to me? Who is going to fix it?

Life is neutral. It is a space in which to exist as a Being. To blame life for the “bad things” that happen is like blaming a chess board for your loss of the game. The various concepts of “god” are just as encompassing, containing the “game board,” if you will. Blaming “god” for your sense of punishment is like blaming a country club for your challenges in playing golf on their course.

Blaming others for your pain and struggles is just as empty as blaming yourself. The reason we can say this is because blame is a form of finding fault, not of insight or direction or solutions. Your life is not someone else’s fault, and your life is not your fault.

Your life is simply YOURS.

Part of growing older as a soul is in being able to recognize that ALL of it is simply YOURS. These are YOUR experiences. It is not “good” or “bad.” It is not “empty” or “full;” “rich” or “poor;” “happy” or “sad,” etc. until you assign it those terms. It is valid to recognize where your experiences are within your defined spectrum, but it will always be valid and empowering to remember that “this is not all there is.” As with your feelings and experiences, so does your Life change.

What happens in your life is most often a product of choice, but when it appears that it is not, you still have a choice as to how to respond to it. Blame, and asking WHY (read: who) is a sort of marinating in pain, holding fast to an entitlement that does not exist.

One of the most freeing statements one can make in times of confusion, pain, anguish, tragedy, disaster, illness, depression, accidents, etc. to the point of crying out WHY is:

THERE IS NO ONE TO BLAME, INCLUDING ME, BUT THERE ARE MANY TO HELP ME, INCLUDING ME.

Identifying and dealing with that which may have been the cause of the WHY in your life is valid and healing, but Blame is simply something that goes to bed with you at night, and weighs on your shoulders during the day, trapping you in the past with “what if’s” and “should have’s.” Blame can create a tapestry of connections among your experiences that tightens
throughout your life and sifts out all of the experiences that you
would normally enjoy.

When you ask WHY in times of pain, be gentle. You are not being punished. You did nothing wrong. You are simply trying to make sense of something that is bigger than your current perspective. Always give yourself time to digest, slowly, at a pace that is not defined by anyone, but you. There will come a time again when your heart and mind can wrap around a painful, confusing experience and you may begin to see the patterns, the beauty, and the potential benefit of even the most horrific of events.

Wail in anger, curl up in despair, fold up in grief, but know that it is only one of many experiences you have had, and will have, in your life. There is no conclusive state, “good” or “bad,” for any of you; there is only emphasis and focus. At times when the focus and emphasis is on the difficult, allow that to be your focus to the extent that it is necessary, but it will free you from the trap of suffering when you actively remember that it is not a conclusion and that there is no one to blame.

There are no benevolent or malicious beings competing over your soul or your life, wielding out rewards and punishments, randomly or with meaning.

There is only CHOICE. And what you choose to do, next, will always be your choice.

-MICHAEL

Hmmmm… well, for me, this doesn’t bring a whole lot of peace right at this moment, but it does offer a perspective that could lead to less-painful days wasted on the WHY’s in me, when I could be focusing on the WISE in me. I know better than to blame, but I never thought of my crying out to the world, WHY, meant anything related to a focus on blame… but that is totally where my heart is when I ask that question, now that I think about it! I hadn’t considered that before. In that respect, this was very liberating.

So what is your input or response to this post? Use the COMMENTS link to add your responses to this discussion!

WHY is the Question of a Broken Heart

Reading time: 2 – 3 minutes

Some days, even with my seeming unlimited resource of optimism, my ability to grasp the most painful of circumstances from a higher perspective, and my playful embrace of disappointment as a comical blunder of something tumbling from my hands, I still have my days when I ask the rhetorical and universal question:

WHY

Some days just… hurt.

Like someone in a heavy boot standing on your neck with a permanent pressure.

I’m sure I just feel this way because of my broken heart.
Kinda down today… that’s all.

Baby steps…

BOAT & BIRD

If you be my star
I’ll be your sky
you can hide underneath me and come out at night
when I turn jet black and you show off your light
I live to let you shine
I live to let you shine

but you can skyrocket away from me
and never come back if you find another galaxy
far from here with more room to fly
just leave me your stardust to remember you by

if you be my boat
I’ll be your sea
a depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity
ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze
I live to make you free
I live to make you free

but you can set sail to the west if you want to
and past the horizon till I can’t even see you
far from here where the beaches are wide
just leave me your wake to remember you by

– Gregory and the Hawk
(listen here)

DREAM: It’ll End In Tears

Reading time: 6 – 10 minutes


Twister Girl
Originally uploaded by CocteauBoy

Yeesh… my dreams, I swear…

DREAM
I haven’t had this themed dream in a long time, but this one was reminiscent of a pattern of dreams I used to have where I was always accompanied by two vague figures in a run for our lives from a group of three who were always chasing us through various, intense adventures. So last night I was with those two unknown people, again, and we were hiding out in a trailer somewhere. We were making a plan as to how and where to go, next, in our escape from those who were after us. A new factor was that SPYDER was with me! Devoted, calm, and wise (a bit different from her character in waking life), she was quietly near.

I glanced out the window to check for anyone approaching: all was clear. As I let the curtains drop back in place, I suddenly saw a figure pass by in the grass, casting his shadow on the curtain! The figure stopped, turned his head in my direction, and I only stood, frozen, counting on the other two in the room to NOT do anything to catch the figure’s attention, but I was not able to alert them, either. The figure wasn’t able to see me through the curtain, apparently, and moved on.

I turned to the other two, relieved, and encouraged them to hurry, because we had to go… NOW.

I’m not sure how this next part worked, but I knew something about the house across the yard nearby and rushed the others to come with me to the house. I had a plan.

We made sure the yard was clear, hurried out the door, Spyder by my side, and over to the house. Somehow, we were inside, silent, and coordinated in our plan. The house seemed to be ranch-style from the outside, but inside seemed to have various levels, with railings and levels overlooking other levels. I don’t even know what we were doing, but we were creeping around with purpose for a while, before getting into the garage. I remember several times that I would notice as we were creeping about the house, that Spyder would be perched somewhere off to the side, or lying comfortably, panting, and watching as we scurried about. I also remember, at one point, a young boy had awakened and come out of his room, rubbing his eyes, and confused as to what he was seeing, but we just went about our business, counting on the boy thinking he was dreaming. I never heard from, or saw him, again.

We got into the garage and somehow had access to the car. I got in behind the driver’s seat; Spyder jumping into the passenger’s seat, with the other two getting in the back seat. As I started the car, I could not get control over things that seemed they should be easy to control, like the headlights, and getting the car into reverse. I started panicking, but finally got the car to move backwards, even though the car was jerking and stopping/starting, as I gained control, but I didn’t gain control fast enough before hitting the accelerator too hard and backing out of the garage before the door was lifted, smashed through it, up an embankment, through a fence. I got the car under control and stopped. We all laughed nervously, but knew we had to get the hell out of there! I drove the car forward, which tore out even more of the fence, dragging parts of it with the car, but falling off as we drove.

We moved fast down a dirt road that seemed to be part of a park, not really designed for a car, crashing over tree roots, and ruts in the road, until I lost control of the car and ran it up the side of a steep bank. Exasperated, we all got out of the car, but as we did, we noticed the police were already nearby at some crime scene or accident. The police had barely noticed our accident, but the noise did catch their attention. A couple of them moved in our direction.

Instead of running, we all remained calm as the police approached. I leaned against the car and remember maneuvering my hands behind my back in some weird fashion. The policemen questioned me, but I don’t remember the conversation. They nodded their contentment at whatever our conversation was, and we walked away… but the car was not behind me anymore!

Somehow, I had condensed the car into two portable, shiny, black, square cases, with silver handles, and we walked off with our crashed car all packaged up discreetly.

As we walked through the park, some kind of relief was settling in and we didn’t seem to be concerned about being chased. We came across a store (something like a 7-11) and went in to get some refreshments. At the check out, there was a box with an egg in it; something a bit like a Kinder Egg, or a big Cadbury Egg, with the wrapping torn back. It was the “sample” package so you could check out what the egg did.

I lifted the wrapper and the egg “talked” in a kind of “White-Girl-Valley-Girl” dialect, saying things like, “OMIGAWD!” and “FOR SHURRR” and other silly things. I rolled my eyes, but laughed, too. The thing is, it was a real egg… a giant, hard-boiled egg. Peeling and lifting the shell and wrapper caused the egg to “talk” out these phrases, and then you could eat it, I guess.

Anyway, I have no idea from where that diversion came in my dreaming, but we left and continued with a sense of relief, walking to the edge the park. I remember thinking it was all over… at least, for now.

And then: darting out from my side, Spyder took off across the park. She had seen a squirrel or something in the distance. Another dog shot out from behind us, too, and ran as fast as Spyder… directly toward a 4-lane street with speeding cars. The other dog ran into the street, first, and was hit immediately, his body thrown into the air and slamming down, with a horrible, but short, painful yelp. Spyder ran out into the traffic, too, all the while my screaming, “Spyder! SPYDER!!!” and in the middle of the street, she seemed to hear me and turn around to come back… but not fast enough.

She was hit by a car, but not thrown into the air; instead she was dragged under the car and rolled. She was wailing the entire time and all I could say, over and over and over, was “Oh my god… oh my god… oh my god.” In the distance, in the middle of the road, she now lay… silent.

But then she got up! She got up, limping at first, then picking up a slight gallop, trying to return to me. I kept saying the “oh my god” over and over as she neared, terrified of what injuries she may have. She was panting and wagging her tail, but clearly in pain. One side of her body was wet, but I couldn’t tell if it was blood or water. I kept thinking about internal bleeding, even if her bones weren’t broken.

I reached down to touch Spyder, to hold her, and she collapsed, exhausted. I was confused as to whether she was seriously injured or not, but I was so glad she was just ALIVE.

END DREAM

I was still saying, “oh my god…” and crying heavily in the dream, as I awakened this morning… and found Spyder curled up on the floor, but with her chin resting on my arm as I slept on the couch, just looking at me. I hugged her immediately and scratched her in the ways she loves to be scratched… she softly closed her eyes and showed her contentment.

The main themes I have had in dreams over the years do seem to be rooted in “cat and mouse chases,” “apocalyptic catastrophes and disasters,” and “brutal murders or accidents.”

What is UP with that?!

DREAM: The Dangerous Road of Romance

Reading time: 4 – 6 minutes


I had another vivid, awful dream last night. I guess it wasn’t awful because it was kind of dramatic and adventurous, but it was scary and intense. It is obvious this is just about how I feel about part of my life right now.

DREAM
I don’t remember as much as I did when I first got up, but I remember being in a car, driving at night, and somehow hearing some terrible news (by cell phone?) and I was in a panic. I don’t even know what the news was, but it had to do with Jip. I remember crying heavily and feeling like I had to make a decision RIGHT THEN. The decision was whether to just GO NOW in the car to Jip or to go get things prepared for a trip. I remember thinking that all I had with me was the clothes I was wearing… and then thought, I can deal with these material things, later… Jip was what was important. So I started the trip to Jip.

At one point I saw what I thought was my exit from the highway, so I took it. When I did, I somehow ended up squeezing down a road through thick trees, leading to an entrance into a tunnel-like space that spiraled down into the earth. I stopped outside the tunnel, got out of the car, and tried to look into the tunnel. It was so dark, I couldn’t see much, but I could tell it spiraled down. I hurried back into the car and started driving down the tight spiral…

As I wound down the dark spiral, I kept anticipating that it would lead back out into the night light where I would feel more comfortable again. And then I crashed into something. It was a dead end! The spiral tunnel only led to a wall. I tried to back the car up, but backing up a spiral was impossible, especially with my being in a panic already.

I walked back up the spiral and into the night, my mind full of intense need to get to Jip because he needed me. I was trying so hard to figure out how to get there as fast as I could.

I ran through the trees to a clearing… it was a field of some kind. Alongside the field was a farm. I remember the night being so quiet and disturbing; the kind that is silent, but for the white noise of wind through the trees… only hearing my breath and sniffles.

I, tentatively, crouched and ran to the edges of the farm. Dim light was coming through a couple of windows, but I couldn’t tell if anyone was up. I was torn between bothering the occupants, and the need for me to figure out a way to get to Jip, which might mean asking them for help.

I sat a distance away from the house, near a barn, and tried to think. Suddenly, the sound a screen door slamming caught my attention and I looked up to see a man in over-alls exiting the house, heading toward a shed across the yard. He looked angry and purposeful and he was carrying an ax. I tried to move to hide more behind what I think was a bail of hay, but I kicked some metallic tool… and the man stopped, whipped his head in my direction…

…and headed my way.

The only thing I remember after that is my thinking, “I just have to get to Jip… do what you have to do!”

END DREAM

I am sure this is my subconscious playing out my futile attempts to remain close to Jip after our breakup; my willingness to give up everything to be with him from the beginning, but finding only dead ends and danger. Those obstacles seemed completely manageable, but in real life, the obstacles were never about the journey or the road or the battles, but about the fact that it takes two.

Even when you know there is a lot of love being shared, trying to be in a relationship when there is only one person present is a dark and lonely place.

I’ll always be a fool for Love. I don’t mind.