Saturday, May 5, 2018

Inspired by "The Rachel Divide"

I just watched the documentary "The Rachel Divide," tonight, on Netflix. The Documentary opened up some complexities, of the life story of Rachel Dolezal, that there were black siblings adopted into her family by her white American parents, and when her black sister went to file a case against their white brother for sexual molestation back in her childhood, Rachel stood by her sisters claims, and the parents chose to discredit both of them, to protect their own lies, and selves.

It seems like she was marred by these injustices, and identified with the oppressed siblings, and did not feel proud nor identified with white parents and abusive, troubled, white brother. I actually related a lot to her, her feelings, and her story. Not specifically all of it, yet a fair bit of it, to her inner drive to define who she resonated as, and shape her life by what she held respect and love, and identification with and for! I respect her unique audacity and knowing, comfort and love, in a community she willingly fought for, even while ridiculed, taunted, attacked, hated and critiqued in return. 

I was as adopted infant, and have had pretty vivid recall of past lives in multiple cultures and "races," from age 18 to 52. I resonate with African friends, loved ones, beauty culture, music, food, (just not West African polygamy so much,) and identify my race as "all," mainly because I experience a unified, and diverse world, within my memories, as having recalled slave lives of multiple races, and war lord lives as well.  

I have fallen in love with men from Iran, Native America, West Africa, Brazil, and Amsterdam, and most of them thought they were only their outward cultural expression overall. Still, they all had some openness of soul, some broader view of humanity, some gentleness, some innate gifts. So an open mind is not always an easy thing to transmit in this world, even in progressive America. Still, I imagine a closed mind, is an even harder burden to bare. Perhaps adoption opens the mind, and, or else my soul brought that into this lifetime.  

I can respect some of the popular views that her identification as a black woman, while born to white parents, is hard on her sons, and simultaneously, how she has raised them with a lot of love and self respect, honoring their culture, over her own. It is awkward.  

Michael Jackson bleached his face and shrank his nose, and we love him all the same. Maybe sexually abusive parents and or families inspire such longings. "If only I was the opposite race, maybe I could have stayed safe?" I don't know. 

Watching the documentary, it really felt like in her soul, Rachel holds connections to the African culture, "race" and experience. I was sad to see how much hate and fear she was met with in the African American community, and the sneering, conservative white Fox News type "culture," as well! I kept thinking, that hate is mostly not about her, mostly projection.  

I live in Santa Fe, where the cultures mingle closer, and African culture is admired, appreciated, and respected by many.  

Also, there are young children all over the world, with proven past life recall, often to different cultures, countries and sexes.  Some people identify with Judaism, and marry a Hassidic Jew, fighting and studying to get in, and then appropriating their ways. There are black people who live as Hassidic Jews. Honestly let people live as who there soul identifies with.  

Maybe she loved her sister, and black siblings as a child, and it was safer to see herself mirrored in beloved kin who had skin, hair, beauty, love, and gifts of the African Diaspora. Perhaps it is more injustice and slavery we are really mad at. Lets pick our battles. Maybe we're not all proud to be from primarily while lineages. Maybe that's a good thing.  

I once wished to be born in the Yoruba Tribe of Nigeria, West Africa, during turbulence on an airplane. You are welcome to call it cultural appropriation. I call it deep soul memory, and the truth of who really all are, one human family, with beautiful diversity, unity, and power.  

When I fell in love with a West African gentleman, who is now married to a West African woman, I visited Cameroon. In many ways I was moved, relieved, and felt at home. The first thing the family said to me was "welcome!" I could feel it. I hope we can reclaim that level of dignity in this conversation. 

I am sad for all the rage projected on this beautiful, open minded soul. I am grateful for the freedom she bridges into our shared world, from some African Soul memories, adoration, resonance, appreciation, and honoring. From some deeper love. To me she inspires the question "love or hate?" "Love or fear?" In me, from her identifications, documentary, and book, Within me, I feel she is inviting me to love. I see her, and relate to her identification, not only to being black, yet to being free enough to define, design, and honor blackness. How beautiful, inspiring, courageous, and powerful. Bravo.  

I would love to see her experience a past life regression, as I facilitate, and recall lifetimes of African strength and power, struggle, gifts, family, and triumph. And likely all expressions of sexes, cultures, classes, roles, and identifications. But alas now I am projecting, and I also truly appreciate her journey, exactly as it is. I am every color and culture of this new emerging rainbow tribe. It is not always an easy inner knowing to openly direct outward, and share. Yet I would not close my mind for anything now. Thank you!

See the documentary, if you are willing to keep your mind and heart open. Try seeing through the lens of your full humanity, from the love and the unity many of us want for all our children, not just a few.

I am not here denying or knocking the concept of white privilege, nor racism and all its shadow in America and the larger world. Yet I notice that black blessing is often minimized, in the raging support of pitting white privilege against black victims. To me there are also soul realities, karma, and grace. To me, if we knew who we are, across a full range of soul timelines, we would face realities where we have all played the roles of victims, perpetrators, privileged, and blessed.

It saddens me a great deal, that so much of the population can not even imagine these possibilities yet. I am grateful for multidimensional realities, perception, and so on.

As a human with both human, familial, lineage, cultural, and national karma, problems, assets, deficits, imperfections, learning curves, amnesia, lesson plans, blessings, and Grace, I feel it is beneficial to see through multifaceted, multidimensional lenses. Doing so expands compassion on all sides.  While the problems, injustices, and prejudices within communities of people of color, and or people seen by some as the "other," outsider, or scapegoat, are valid, and worthy of our focus, and ultimately transformation, I see the old black and white thinking as potentially dangerous, outdated and harmful.  Ironically most "black" people, or people of the African Diaspora are some mix of black, white, and other cultural and "race" identifications.

May I be instrumental in expressing, valuing, sharing, and validating the realities, where there is in fact more gray space, than not. For me, that is what both the life, voice, experiences, identifications, and documentary movie of Rachel Dolezal reveal.  We have more to learn than we could ever fully realize, in mere human form.

Truth is we're mostly SOURCE, and a small percent human, and an even smaller part, whatever flavor of human we, as each soul, signed on for.

People labeled as "white," many of them have complexities, life and soul memories, slave histories, victim histories, and so on. I feel the time is ripe for us, the human family, to upgrade our narrative to include full honesty and compassion. I believe we have all been everything. To openly consider this means we all have shame in our soul lineages, family lines, and more. May we begin to unpack our baggage in more vulnerable ways, to face this on the multiple levels, reality truly exists on!

We're all so black it's unbelievable. I hope to help us recover who we truly are, in all our fabulous flavors, cultures, shades, expressions, and color combinations. I hope to help Rachel Dolezal, Nkechi Diallo, Gift of God, reawakens blackness, soul, humanity and culture in all willing waking human family members on Earth.

May we all regain and reclaim the larger truth of who we really are!

I bless the diversity in all of us! May blessings and love fill in the places and spaces infiltrated with fear, hate, and hopelessness within my human self, and in all of us!

Monday, April 2, 2018

Last Day on the Earth Plane for my Kitty Kin

Precious on her last day in physicality, on Earth

Today I feel a mix of feelings and responses from sadness to relief, from vulnerability and loss, to ease and freedom. Today I sent my elder kitty cat Precious across the rainbow bridge, to the shape-shifting realms of mystery and light.

Precious outside, last day of Earth Blessings

Almost a whole week ago, in my car, parked in the Vitamin Cottage parking lot under rare falling snow, I surfed google on my smart phone, for Cat Euthanasia.

The previous week, I had searched portable pet stairs.  My elder kitty girl had been struggling with so many challenges, in her aging process. If she was 8 years old when she came to me, she may have reached 19 or 20 by this year.

She seemed to have Alzheimer's or dementia like symptoms, that caused her to cry out loud, kind of wailing, at various times, for food, company, comfort, or connection. Sometimes she would walk in circles, and kind of keep circling, nowhere in particular, more like a wind up toy, a little lost on the way. Her mind was on rocky ground, and not what it used to be.  Her emotions were also strained.  She was not the relaxed and happy, aware, care-giving being she used to be.  She was retired in many ways from her old offerings.

In her heyday, Precious was always nurturing, loving, grooming, or comforting someone. She brought love and comfort to tender, vulnerable people, and Soul Arts Clients, and to her adopted Tortie Sister Kin, Her Holiness, the Halai Lama. Halai came to us, with a gaping open wound, from a mishap, we only know she somehow lived through, that tore open her underbelly. Her original name was Holy Holly, the Manager's Favorite. I decided immediately, no one in this home will remain named after their worst life trauma and wound.

Precious came to me with the name Precious. Later I learned Rinpoche actually translates to Precious, or Precious One.  So here I was blessed to live and thrive with the Precious One, and Her Holiness.  Quite a holy team!

Precious embracing and Halai embraced

I adopted Precious through Felines and Friends, at our local Pet Co, with the help of Randa, who became a friend, 11 or 12 years ago. Precious gained her young sister friend Halai, in November 2008, which turned into a blessing for all involved.

I still remember, when I adopted Precious, a clerk, at the store, cried, and told me she had fostered Precious, for a while. She shared of how Precious mothered some of the unweaned kittens, loving them into trusting this world.

Precious and Halai on our QHHT bed

As mentioned Precious was a giver. If she was human, she might have led a codependent support group, as she was always putting the needs of others, before hers. In the cat world, I suppose she was simply very loving, caring, and nurturing. She would groom and love Halai, and gave most of the time, receiving on rare occasions.  

In my Healing Practice, she was highly instinctive. I used to confide in clients, that Precious had a kind of a radar, for other givers like her. My starseed clients were often wired like her, set here on this mad planet, to selflessly give and serve. Precious had a special resonance to her own kind. She used to jump up into the lap of these vulnerable visiting starseed, as they cried, reviewing their life and challenges, hopes, dreams and visions. She in some way understood.

Initially, she used to get startled when anyone male came around. I imagined she was emotionally traumatized her self, from some historical moments I could never really understand or fully imagine.

Whatever it was, it made for wonderful compassion, caring, and commiserating. She did learn over time, our home was a safe place for her, and every visiting guest and friend, was a safe being, in our safe haven, too.

She led a good life here. In her zenith, she helped hunt some mice, lizards, snakes and centipedes, on the brick floors of our home. As she eased into her retirement years, and the house eventually got "mouse proofed." She wound down, and eased off of hunting and eventually surrendered to let clients review their life, without rigorous feline support.

Precious snuggling with Halai

Further ravages of aging, brought nervous system issues, that caused a rigidifying effect in her extremities, where she was kind of holding on for life. Her back legs became less certain, and would sometimes shake and give way. Leaping up to the couch functioned almost to the end, yet she did, at times not succeed in her leaps. Later still, she would sometimes leap herself, and other times whine out, for a lift.

She remained hungry and food focused, often right after eating, as her aging body became more fur and bones.  Yesterday she and her sister enjoyed the American fringe benefits about 4 meals, which they polished off completely.

There was a period of time marked by peeing and occasionally pooping outside the liter box, directly on the brick floor. She was so old, it didn't even smell very strong.  Still the job of cleaning it all up, grew greater, near the end.

For a while I used human logic, yelling, putting her in the litter box, shouting no. I even barricaded her in a few times. It made us both... all feel crumby.  After a while, I realized, it didn't necessarily follow any logic at all. It was more maybe physiological, and perhaps a result of the dementia. Not sure she could remember to enter a litter box at the end. When she did, if she did, it was my luck, so to speak.

Shape-shifting Cat Spirit

I did witness the decline of P's little empire, her life and her world, as her physical, mental and emotional vitality consistently dissipated. Her joy slipped, beyond this realm, and more misery crept in.  One day, in March, while eating her dinner, she purred, as loud as a cat can purr, all the while eating her canned salmon, or tuna. I marveled, wondering, how can she purr, and eat, all at the simultaneously. I suppose that was a peak moment for her, at her little dining tray.

She had been rendered toothless, for most of the years of her stay here. She had one small nub of a tooth, left in her whole mouth.

Her eyes seemed to have cataracts, and I had to turn the food bowl around, so she could even eat all the food. She also used to make quite the ruckus, crashing into the food and water tray, both out of handicaps, and as a loud, angry plea for meals! Sometimes, between the brain freeze of dementia, and the back legs growing weak to collapsing, she would wail for direction, focus, and tuna, while circling away from her food bowl, almost mechanically.

She also lost most of her ability to groom herself, and even to surrender or relax her body into a reclining position. Instead she kind of hunched or sat up for the last year or so.

Was it the 5G? Hopefully not.

So while I thought I was placing an "informational" call out to the local mobile Euthanasia Vet, she confirmed that it sounded like it was time to let go. I felt relieved, and my search for stairs to the couch, morphed into an appointment for my Precious to climb up the stairway to heaven, out beyond my embodied vantage point.

I felt relief, and some guilt, making the decision. I suppose I felt guilt, imagining my cat as more of a human. I mean we have more humane options and supports, when our human kin, experience physical deterioration, on the aging journey.  I did things like second guessing my decision through using my mini dowsing rods, and testing, "it is better to allow her to go," "it is better to keep her here..." One day, second guessing myself, while driving, I saw what in my lexicon, looked like a very homeless pair of men, in town.  I took this to mean, she feels more "homeless" at home, than not. I newly saw surrendering her from life, and struggle, as sending her home to the spirit world, and as more humane, than keeping her here.

I had moments of doubt, guilt, and even wrote a friend, and expressed questioning whether it is a sinister act to, "kill my cat," when I could let her live out her days naturally, until she releases the body herself.

After calling the mobile vet, and arranging the trans-dimensional passage, I went into the Vitamin Cottage: Natural Grocers.

I swapped places, in the produce department, for access to the Brussels sprouts, and blurted out something honest to a baby boomer local woman, standing closer to the fresh ginger root. I said, something like, "I just made a call to a mobile vet, and scheduled to end my elder cat's life." This led to open sharing, vulnerability expression, acquaintance, and the exchange of helpful emotions and teaching stories.

My new friend in the produce aisle, shared that someone told her, after she had to end her dogs life, that if a dog or cat lived as a wild animal, that they would not stick around suffering so much and so long, rather they would cross over much faster.  Yet because of love and loyalty, they stick around for their human companions, and one more bowl of wet food!  

My produce friendship lasted over an hour, we spoke of the hippies, the starseed, the new hope-of-the-future children, death, loss, pets, people, family, life, and more. We learned that we are both artists and healers, and both highly open-minded stewards birthing and bridging the dawning of this true age, and our New Earth. The universal healing salve of communication, love, compassion, and caring was ignited and shared. We traded names, calling cards, hugs, and inspiration, releasing each other back to our snowy day shopping adventures and lives, all the better for our communications and unique delays.

So today came, featuring our appointment with Amanda, the compassionate Santa Fe Mobile Veterinarian. I spent the week, giving more love and attention to Precious, than she may have known what to do with. We got to spend a life or two loving each other. She seemed like she was indeed my childhood kitty cat, come back for another round, and her tortoiseshell sister pal, the adopted baby sister! Four lives down, 14 to go!

The Vet ran a little late, serving others earlier today. Precious had hid in her little kitty condo, near the window.  Prior to Dr. Amanda's arrival,  I plucked Precious out, picked her up, and took her outside. We took some photos, and shared some love, gratitude, and coaching at the crossroads. I held on, and Dr. Amanda finally arrived.

And from there forward, I handled the administrative tasks, handed Precious over to her, a couple times, and then Precious remained in my arms, the rest of the time. I sat on the couch, right next to the spot where Precious has sat and slept, since an old boyfriend kicked the cats out of my bedroom, almost 10 years ago.

"Embrace" Art by me Jen

Doc Amanda gently guided me through all the steps, waiting until I was ready. I held and comforted my sweetie girl.  And when I was ready, the Veterinarian gave precious a sedative shot, in the back skinny thigh, or so. Not sure. I'm not a doctor. P cried out once, and quickly got over it. I held on, as P's body relaxed, more and more and more. I kept comforting, and allowing her and her transition. Her eyes remained open, yet her body went from her rigid aging countenance, to increasing stillness, and softening. I was told the sedative takes anywhere from 2 to 10 minutes. I kept wondering, does she still have a pulse, is her heart still beating? Her eyes were still wide open, yet her neck gave way, and she felt more fluid and less solid.  We bonded, and I told her, "I love you," and "see you later," and "have a beautiful journey."

The doc gently pulled on her back leg, to see if she still felt anything, and she made a super soft sound, only audible to me, about 10% of her previous capacity. It was her last sound.  The doc asked if I'd like a few more minutes. I never turn down a few more minutes. So I accepted.

When she was really fully sedated, and on her way, the doctor gave her the goodbye injection, and I watched blood flow from her body and slightly fill a tube, before I watched some light pink lethal liquid, empty from a syringe, flowing back down into this little sedated being. All while I got to cradle her in my arms. At some point, the Veterinarian announced that she was on her way. I asked if the Vet thought it looked like Precious had cataracts, as I had wondered for a long time. Her eyes remained open, through, and after her departure. I tried to close them, yet they did not really close. Once the kitty spirit or life leaves, all that original detail and beauty in the eyes goes with it. The Vet explained that the eyes all look dark and clouded over, like they have cataracts, at the end. Oh. The Doc took a stethoscope, and tuned in for the silence. Dr. Amanda got a wet clay disk, and pressed a lifeless paw in, to make a lasting impression keepsake. I went with it. Sure. Whatever helps.

The sadness and loss hit me profoundly, in the car, after making the initial service call, and more directly, after the veterinarian scooped what used to be Precious up, and put her little lifeless body in a beautiful, bright, little Native American patterned shroud, and nestled her into a black fabric like, simple cube like box, for her shell's trip to the crematorium.  

As I stood up, Dr. Amanda promptly administered a strong, solid, gentle, understanding hug.

I asked for her business card, and she brought one in to me, after carrying our companion's physical exterior away.  

It was the first time I have experienced anything like this.

I would say that it was harder to see Precious struggling, in so many ways, as so many strengths diminished, slowly, over her aging process. So in some way it was a very humane and loving experience to get to be so gently and practically supported, in her Spirit's crossroads and flight. It was my honor, and not really scary, yet overall, natural and real.  Dr. Amanda brought Halai over to witness the lifeless Precious.  Halai was pretty unphased. The Vet explained that this was pretty normal.

I feel both sad, relieved, and grateful for the life, and love shared.  

What a gift, to get to face and facilitate and be served through such a crossroads, in the comfort of our own home.

Angel Cat by me Jen
Fly free, sweet Precious One! We miss your presence.  We celebrate your journey. Enjoy your true home. Grateful for the life shared. See you again. We love you White Whiskers!  Glad you are free!  Say hello to Larry for us!

Remaining Friend Halai, checking out the paw print
Halai Cat Dreaming

Halai, gazing up at the Spirit World... We miss you Precious Sister Friend

Me Jen, on a more social day, many moons ago. Photo by Hinton Harrison

If and or when you need such services
in Santa Fe, I highly recommend: 
Amanda Mouradian, DVM 
Chamisa Mobile Veterinary Services

Truly grateful!

Thursday, March 1, 2018

Did my Soul Choose my Parents, All 6 of them?

This impassioned blog entry is copied from a comment I made on a support group I am part of, where individuals are gathered in empowerment, and encouragement, as we are all healing from the human condition, recovering and transforming from Narcissistic abuse in our families of origins. The whole original post was deleted from the group, as it both broke some basic group rules, and also insulted most of the members who took great offense to the article, which I actually mostly aligned with.

Someone in the group posted a link to an article from A.R.E. Edgar Casey's Foundation, entitled "Choosing your Parents," about how as souls, we are assisted by the Angels, in a pre life planning meeting, where we choose our parents. In the group I am a member of, most of the people who commented on the Soul honoring post, were deeply offended, and pained by the concept of souls choosing our parents. I attempt to debunk what I know, hold and research as the truth behind this, even as the article was illegally posted, as per the rules of the group, by someone else.

I wrote this article to shed light on the truth regarding the controversial post under review, and now deleted: "Choosing your parents. " I think I can put it in a context somewhat, without making anyone right or wrong, more from my own experience, wisdom, and training. Some may find healing in my story and awareness, if you allow the whole overview.

I am an adult, adopted, only child. I trained in hypnotherapy and past life regression 25 years ago, after hypnotherapy helped me heal fear held in the body that had developed into chronic pain. Later a friend studied my astrological chart, and noted that these experiences, that of having pain, and finding help, then training as a facilitator of the same tools that helped me, is in my astrological chart. I have trained with 2 + teachers, very famous for their work and books, Dolores Cannon and Dr. Brian Weiss. They have many videos on youtube, and Brian Weiss has appeared twice on Oprah. The sessions I have received, have given me a lot of deep answers, from the SOURCE within.

I met a ThetaHealer, work I am now trained in also, at one of my hypnotherapy and past live regression training sessions. She had intuitive/psychic abilities. She was kind of giving away free guidance, as she tuned into Creator and the Angels, through the Creator. I sat at an outdoor dining table, in Austin Texas, and asked her my Soul's purpose. What she said was profound. She said, "You've experienced a lot of abandonment, and if that's all it was for, it would make for a pretty depressing life. Yet that's not all it was for. As a soul, you set all this up, so you could eventually find spiritual tools and processes that help you transform your trauma, leading you to master those tools, to help others through their trauma."

A few more brief points. I agree that the way this author of the article speaks, could really come off as offensive to people in the West, who don't share in a solid belief of an eternal soul, reincarnation, life purpose, life as a school for our soul, and so on. The author describes it in a kind of simplistic way. My teachers have shared some wonderful insights on how this stuff works, as thousands of clients/explorers have shared through their sessions. The soul is whole, and choses from a very unlimited perspective. It's never intending pain for the sake of pain, punishment, etc. So a far more down to earth description to me is that it's more like theater.

Throughout my life, my Mom and her friends were in a theater troupe, and put on musicals and plays. To me our soul is the actor and actress, who is willing to forget who we truly are, whole, a ray of God's love, divine and connected to all of life. I am told this is one of the most complex planets. and that we are all billions of lifetimes old, not just on Earth. One reason people sign on to be challenged by parents who have their own problems is to help end the brokeness, suffering, pain, and abuse in a whole, or multiple lineages.

Sad as it sounds to say it, one might gain great levels of compassion as a soul, living through abuse. They might be inspired to shift the whole lineage and never treat anyone as we were treated. I know it can seem like gaslighting, implying that life is, " just a play!" And still you get to decide and research if you buy into such possibilities. I am trained in a process, and have received hypnotherapy where we visit the soul's life planning meeting, and ask questions like, "What did I sign on to teach to, and learn from each parent?" I was adopted so my session took twice as long.

In addition to having a birth mother, and a biological father, my adoptive father remarried twice, so that makes a total of 6 parents, including my 2 step mothers.

I signed on to learn what someone very earth based sees reality to be, to help me learn about the Earth plane, while I am so very at home in the soul, and soul realms, and much less so in physical limitations. I came to remind my mom that we all are souls. My dad and I both are here with a more grace based love, reminding each other that we are gifted each gifted, accomplished, creative souls! I believe my Mom and I love each other dearly, as souls. Yet on Earth, I mostly want to get the hell away from her, because she is so deeply at war within herself. I believe that Borderlines and Narcissists forget God and the Spirit and Soul realities. That is a huge part of their pain and trauma.

I am taking steps, and receiving support to root myself back in enough wholeness, joy, strength, and love to be able to love and enjoy myself fully, to in turn enjoy and love my Mom as exactly who she is. She has not been able to do this within herself, for herself, in this lifetime. How was she to teach me about something that eluded her so?

In the meantime my own wholeness is taking precedence, as I reboot, stepping up into a whole new chapter of who I am, and what I am here to create, catalyze, receive, allow, and share.

One more piece of the puzzle. Dolores Cannon, my hypnotherapy teacher, in her 19 books and hundreds of lectures and interviews on youtube, was told, lost information, as we connect with the SubConscious mind, while in the deepened, Somnanbulistic state, otherwise known as trance or hypnosis, specifically QHHT, Quantum Healing Hypnosis Technique, which answers life questions and administers healing, in clients. They/we have revealed that all along, and especially after WW2, that the beings who watch over Planet Earth, saw that the people
on Earth were warring and nearing the possibility of destroying life on Earth and the planet with destructive repercussions, rippling out into the cosmos. 

Indigenous elders and seers, and later what was described as "the three waves of volunteers, are beings from the higher dimensions, from the stars, who were called in to help steward us into an age of peace love and harmony. Maybe we are all part of that group of volunteers. Maybe we are the ones who said, yes I would be willing to forget my connection to God, and be born into families filled with forgetting, fear, pain, internal warring, and abuse, so that I can reach a point, where I say, "It ends with me!" 

I joke with people who relate to this, and come and find me, as friends and or as clients/explorers. I say, if we volunteered here, to embody love, and heal humanity, then it would have been a waste, to incarnate into a super healthy joyful, harmonious family. There are children all over the world, now who at age 2, 3, 4 and 5 retain memories from past lives in all cultures and skin colors, that are being verified, when researched. 

Many religions and cultures have prophesies about the New Earth and time of Heaven on Earth that is to come, and is in process of birthing itself, through us, right now. I believe we are all a part of that. I respect and honor if this does not fit with your beliefs. Most of my hypnotherapy teachers, including Bill Thornton, who was originally a fire and brimstone Baptist Minister, held no beliefs in past life regression, before clients spontaneously opened into such memories, and or they regressed to past lives, in their own training!

Thank you for allowing me to shed light on a complex topic that is so near and dear to my heart.  

The moderator of the group I am in, contacted me privately and explained that the private group on a major social media network, is a support group, and not a recovery group.  

So my rights and freedom to communicate on their virtual wall, got temporarily banned.

So here I am, sharing freely, where I am the main soul allowing my truth, wholeness, fullness, experience, and knowing, without ridicule, condescension, limitations, or conflict!

Thank you for opening up to my truth.



Thursday, January 25, 2018

Seeing and Outgrowing Wounding Familial Patterns of Narcissistic Abuse

Tonight I found this old rattled post of mine, from January 25th, 2017, one year ago today.

It couldn't be more timely. Even though I invested 2 or so recent years in therapy, and have invested much of my adult life both receiving, training in, and facilitating multiple soul based forms of therapy and healing arts, I still struggle with my life long, now aging adoptive mother, and her warring, fearing, volatile need to control, flip roles on me her adult daughter, and attack me with spontaneous bouts of volatility, rage, aggression, fear, hysteria, and projections.

This year I have been stepping back and reviewing the taxing toxic nature of her relationship with herself, and how she projects the absolute worst of it onto me, unconsciously casting me in the role of scapegoat, to gain something experts in the field call narcissistic fuel, narcissistic feed, narcissistic supply, or some say, simply complete obliteration. When you learn about the mechanics of narcissism, its limitations and ill health really grow more predictable, and in many ways ridiculous.  Still the pain and poison of the often unconscious cycle continue to debilitate and hurt those still caught in the narcissist's web, and the narcissist herself, lives, pained, poisoned, trapped, alone, and hurt, in part due to her own lack of self esteem, confidence, value and worth. She pretends to be something she's not, yet never really feels or believes her own act fully.

Due to her inner lack, she cannot fully open to love, thus she casts people in the roles of her un-lovables, and her non-lovers, all merely projections of the hate she feels within.

Today I received a hand written letter from a close relative with narcissistic borderline personality disorder. It complimented me, and then added, "however," and... kind of almost validating and then invalidating, went on issuing commands, demands, and a flowery look-outside-of-me... to see evidence of how I must let myself be defined externally and comply, to meet the narcissists' needs... kind of edict. It had a compelling edge and tone, written on some pretty, perky, dark pink, 30 year old stationary.

I knew it did not actually see me, it's as far from my truth as is possible, that it isn't actually about me, etc. Still it confused me and made me crave a healthy witness and guide. 

So I googled a phrase that would give away too much info if I stated it here, which included "how to set boundaries with .... *.... narcissistic ....'s!"

*Narcissistic Mothers

So much helpful info came up. I read at least 6 short articles. I was reminded, they can't really see, hear, acknowledge or love you, so stop seeking these needs out from them. They don't know where they end and I begin. Explaining any of this to them will not help or translate. Their self esteem is not strong enough to take any of this in. It's a threat to everything they present themselves to be.

My best course is setting firm boundaries, seeing their behaviors as an illness, not expecting healthy or normal responses, not raging for lack of love, not explaining my side, as they are incapable of seeing, valuing, or validating me as separate. Also learned to look back at my history of relating to the narcissistic borderline personality disordered relation & grab hold of whatever has worked in past.

Thank you oh great goddess Google, and all the brilliant wise women and people who post such helpful guidance and articles there.

I will not get dragged under the bus of mentally ill "needs" and criticism, conditional almost love, nor my own triggered emotions, to tests like these. If I do I will drag myself out, or reach out to a neutral healthy friend or family member, to help ease me back out.

As for the narcissist in my life. You are at times compelling, however I overall don't believe or trust you and your life history of cases against me, any more than Mr. Trump's against the world. Grateful I know I am not you. Grateful I have discovered love directly within, health, transformation, and a lifetime of my own unique successes!

Grateful for help, not to project such unquenchable need and burdens back on myself, nor onto my relationships and world.

Recently, as a "good daughter" treated and attacked like a bad one, I have spontaneously reviewed my primary parental relationships. One night it felt almost like two vertical towers, one holding records to my relationship with my Father, and one holding memories and jarring emotions from my Mother.

Even while I know this clearly mentally, emotionally it still feels startling.  I review my life long relationship with my dad, and really everyone else I am currently connected with as friends and or family. As I do, it's pretty clear, balanced, healthy, and problem free.

Then I review the recent year, previous years, times I have been in crisis, times my mom has been in crisis.  In this review, this very tall tower of sorts of records, holds countless debilitating episodes, memories, outbursts, and minefield like dramas and wars.

I sit back, look, and see clearly, I may occasionally react, or get triggered, or sucked into war games within, or with others. Yet it is not really my chosen lifestyle to live on the offensive, bombing family and friends with verbal and emotional attacks.

Yet many times when either my mom is under pressure, or I am under pressure, she quickly moves into the offensive position, and I am forced into a defensive position only, or occasionally I emotionally track or mirror her, and join her in offense, still always to defend, against her offense.

I am more empathic, and she is the only one left in my life who allows herself to treat me in these out of control, outlandish, abusive ways. She's the only one in my life, who still treats her self in such ways.

No one else holds their pain over me in such an attack, blame, shame, powerless, scared, high stakes drama sort of a way. No one!

This year my mom played the whole game out, almost word for word, the same as last year.  In fact when I moved across the country, leaving her to steep in her own poisonous juices, over 30 years ago, it was around this time of year. The coldest driest, most gray time of year.

The tired needy rhetoric is the same. I called to listen, consult, and help her yesterday, and fire bombs of attack launched: "You need to" and "A daughter should" "Well you knew this and you should have that, a whole week ago," and "you've never apologized to me in your whole life!" and worse.  A lot of "you don't love me" style stuff.  I literally blocked a lot of it out, because there was nothing new in her repertoire. My mother was literally an actress throughout most of her life.  Still she hung up on me, when I spoke any words in relation to my side of the fence.  She hung up, coldly commanding me not to yell, as my voice raised, in the heat of her inflammatory accusations.  Then she yelled at and criticism bombed me. Then she refused to answer, several more times.

I have no rights, no say, no validity, no nothing, with her.  It's sick, sick, raging, and war filled.  

I have been told over and over that I can't change her.  Yet as I get help, work on myself, learn healthy limits, and grow, I am not the same as I was, and can not simply allow this.

In the circles of daughters and adult children of narcissistic mothers and parents, the healthy, and often only solutions are no contact, or low contact.

My mother is 85, and no contact seems kind of harsh. When one has been treated the majority of one's life by a narcissistic parent, as the bad, wrong, stupid, valueless, scapegoat, then low or no contact can make that adult child even more bad, wrong, unloving, stupid, valueless and blame worthy. Unfortunately it's a real no win, no win set up.

It's a no win, because, based on her low self esteem, when I pull back to experience health, the narcissistic adult mother internalizes all the bad, wrong, stupid, undeserving, unlovable, valueless, helpless, hopeless, unloved feelings and beliefs, that she needs to project, scapegoat and or source out, to survive.

Narcissists can be very dangerous to their own selves, and their so called love ones. They attack their children to get validation, and to steal some kind of love, they do not feel soft enough to open to, let alone consistently offer out, or share.

I want to tell her, your true legacy to me is disconnection, helplessness, hopelessness, complex PTSD, brokeness, poison, and the painful instinctual responses I grab for of fight, flight, freeze, deaden, break, burden, buried rage, sadness and sickness. As long as I keep the narcissist in my life, I carry heightened toxic levels of feeling, sadness, doubt, shame and pain, that hold nothing useful for me, and potentially lead to the same deadly disorder.

I want to tell her, if you really love me, you would not love me.

Or if you really love me, get some help to find balance and love within your own self, without me.

Yet I don't have those options.

So I take a little more time out, take a few more steps back in, into trust, into myself, and back into the life she has so deeply taught me to hate and fear, and the self she has taught me to distrust, attack, blame, shame, hate and berate.

None of this is actually mine. I came here to transform all of this, step by baby step.  I came here to safely show up as me, and share this with healthy friends and relatives.

Yet I can only transform my side of the equation. These are some of the supercharged road blocks, I came here to masterfully maneuver. I am not the mommy, God, savior, therapist, parent, wife or husband of my narcissistic mother.  If she wants real help, may she go out and find it.  

This year I am stepping up to serve my own life. I am showing up to co-create my own success. Those are my only options.

A lot of years I  served others, while negating, and ignoring myself, as I was trained to. I reached a breaking point with this three years ago, and can't operate this way anymore.

I have hidden from life, as if life is my narcissistic mother, in recent years, because for years, and throughout our childhoods, thats what narcissistic others taught us. We were in no position to question it, as we had no clue there were any other sort of mothers out there. That's sick, dangerous, and ultimately not at all even about me.

I came here to be free, to be this gift, to be this blessing. I will no longer go down silently, in defeat, to this consistently offensive force. She overall doesn't even see me. Still life invites me back to myself. Life invites us into ourselves. Life sees and loves me, as I see and love life.

I wish my mother well, and hope she lines up a life that truly feeds, helps, serves and loves her.  

And this projection on me, that I am to be this all giving life, love, and savior to her, has run it's course. She can have it back, without me in it.

This lack pit, has no truth for me anymore. She can have it, trade it, refurnish it, or upgrade it!

I'm trying something new this round. I'm being me, for me.

I feel like My mom has sucker punched me so many times, on the playgrounds of her war fields, that she's trained me to punch back.

I will not go down in silence this round.

This season, I am here to push back, show up, and be the powerful star I came here as, and equally to fully be!

Saturday, November 25, 2017

In October, February, and August We Become an African Village, Right Here in Santa Fe!

Dear Kamajou Tadfor, Founder of Afreeka Santa Fe, Fiesta Fela, Remembering Mandela and related Local Celebrations of African Culture.

Some of my favorite gifts in life, include global and African culture, music, people, poetry, cuisine, arts, dance, and community. Warm people, indigenous culture, great food, and glorious landscapes beckoned me to live in Beautiful Santa Fe, after visiting over 20 years ago. As a Santa Fe local of 18 years, it has been a similar set of qualities I've cherished, through attending seven solid years of Afreeka Santa Fe's Annual Fiesta Fela Celebration.

Fiesta Fela, from its inception has gathered the community in revelry, cultural pride, savory flavors, colorful fabrics and head wraps, live beautiful rhythms and dances of Africa. The celebration centers around Fela Kuti, whom I was blessed to know and love, across the world from Africa, and even see and hear live, in Berkeley California, nearly thirty years ago. The experience of that live concert was like no other live music concert or presenter, I had ever experienced. It lives on inside me.

I am grateful to you Kamajou Tadfor, your Family and large community of Friends. One year the festival kept a large community of familiar guests dancing into the night, at El Museo de Cultural. Every year the event grows and changes in ways that always inspire, uplift and yes, surprise the community.

We count on you and our Community to come out and shine, via vendors of authentic African food and drinks, Nigerian Batik Arts, Fine Artists, visiting artists, West African Vendors of clothing, art, drums, jewelry, and more, from the Motherland. There are always some new variety of fine crafts, treasures, specialty drinks, foods, snacks and more. This year friends and I gathered at Chef Ahmed's mobile Jambo Food Truck, for the yummiest African Cuisine and drinks around.  

The event itself, featuring African Dancers, Master Drummers, Activist Poetry, Music of the African Diaspora, North African Belly Dancers, lifts our spirits from morning, through mid day, and all the way to sunset. I don't think I've ever gone straight home after dancing, dining, and shopping my way through all of it. I even one a series of passes to yoga classes at Body, two years in a row.  So many local and visiting friends gather each year for the festival, that a tradition grows, where we keep the celebration going long into the night, as we continue, often in restaurants and bars, a mere walk from the Railyard. 

On more than one Fiesta, I have welcomed new African American guests to the event, and remained friends, after they live in Santa Fe and move on. It's always endearing to see, meet, and greet the people, who just happen by, on the event.

The artist who come and paint paintings, or sculpt live sculpture out of clay, astound guests, as their art grows energized from the music, admirers, and community alike. Dean Howell has sculpted impressive, monumental heads African Heads, three years in a row. This year the human theme was replaced by an endangered rhinoceros!

Some years the Tarnoff Art Center has set up easels, tables, painting and drawing supplies, and even pottery wheels and instruction, all for free. This year the Inspiration Squad hosted by Artist Laura Tarnoff, hosted a booth featuring our art and artists, as Laura masterfully juggled the music, community gathering, and live painting all in one day. I brought and showcased original abstract, yet between meeting new guests, socializing, eating, dancing and photographing the fun, I never touched brush and paint to a canvas. And that was perfectly fine with me. Sponanaity is the essence of the heart of the day. So I let it all show up as it did. And now I'm filled with inspiration to pour into my next painting and projects.

This year's highlights included the most colorful sea of trees backdrop I can recall in years, opening with The Swank's Brothers playing a rousing set, including an supremely funky rendition of Manu Dibango's Soul Makossa. The band from Haiti made me want to bilocate, to be in the food line, and the dance floor simultaneously. The final headliner Zimbabwean band, Prince Kudakwashe Musaruwa and the Main Ingredients of African Soul, stirred all the hearts around, activating souls and the main outdoor dance ground alike.

The event is a true treasure. I always love to donate to the event, yet love inviting guests to attend for free, as free is how it is presented.

Grants, gifting and donations help make the event the true success that it is. One of the most magical moments this year, was when our dear friend Kirsten Wing's name was called as the winner of a most gorgeous, original, hand dyed, batik quilt, by Yoruba Artist Rafiu Mustapha of Raf Remi Art. This had a lot of special meaning, symbolizing new life crossroads opening to this friend, who has newly rooted in her dream community, right here in Santa fe.

It was beautiful singing and dancing along to Nigerian Master Drummer and local Santa Fean of countless years, Akeem Ayanniyi and his local band of African Drummers. We contributed our joy, often, in call and response, as you, Kamajou, Akeem, and others shouted out, every body say "Yeah, Yeah"... "Yeah Yeah!"

We missed the friends and family, who came every year, yet now live outside of Santa Fe.

Joy was generously shared by all. Friends who came for the first time, were surprised, at all the years they'd missed. To attend one Fiesta Fela event, a Remembering Mandela Gathering, or even an impromptu African Rhythms DJ Dance Party, is to want to attend all offerings Afreeka Santa Fe Offers.

What grand expressions of your welcoming, generous, infinite African Heart for the Arts and the People. We may not be Africa officially.  But for one, two, or three days a year, the Santa Fe Railyard, or some inspiring location becomes a glorious, beautiful, friendly African Village, and we all leave with our hearts, souls, eyes, ears, feelings, and bellies smiling, satisfied and full!  We take this out and spill it over, into local community, family, and friendships alike, better for every precious moment of the festivities!

In Grace, Joy, Love and Gratitude.

May what you have created, collaborated, and set into motion, continue for countless years to come. People come and go in Santa Fe. May Fiesta Fela, and the triumphant Spirit of Fela Himself, live on in the people, here and everywhere!

Ever so much thanks. My spirit is forever renewed each time we share in this grand day!