Category Archives: Meditation

WHO’S DRIVING THE BUS?

The wheels on the bus go round and round. The people on the bus go up and down.   But, does anyone know …article-2154929-1376A9CD000005DC-502_634x350

WHO IS DRIVING THE BUS?

If I can lay my thoughts down on a page, placing the words just right, perhaps they will tell the story that will help me better understand who I am, and who I am not.

Last week, frustrated during meditation when I couldn’t seem to quiet my thoughts around some particular office drama, I realized when my time was up and I opened my eyes that I had simply been sitting for twenty minutes “thinking with my eyes closed!” With a deep sigh, I concluded that I was still a work in progress, alas, “a mere human” when it came to being addicted to my thoughts, stories and the act of thinking.    How was this possible when I had worked so hard to remember to be present in the moment and in my body?  Was I simply a “Talking Head”?  As Trump would tweet, “FAKE MEDITATION…SO SAD!”

None of us were born “Talking Heads”. In the beginning, we were awakened into an altered state of reality, consciousness seemingly stuffed into a physical body.   After being squished into existence through a tight dark tunnel and landing in these huge slipper hands; we were slapped on the ass and welcomed into this three dimensional mish-mash of existence we call life on Gaia.  Imagine being confined in a small physical existence when we were used to soaring freely through the jungles of space and time as omnificent creator.

When we were babies, until we were around five years old, emotion was our first and only language. Since we couldn’t form thoughts without a language to support these thoughts, we floated around on a cloud of feelings from the surrounding emotional atmosphere.  We had our first taste from the smorgasbord of emotion as early on as the womb.  These feelings were those of our mother; but we adopted them as if they were our own.  They most likely were a “mixed bag of treats” including love, excitement, anxiety, shame and/or fear.  With no way to employ our own special reptilian skills for survival, we had to rely solely on these emotions to tell us when something was wrong, such as there was a lion in the bush or a prehistoric Pterodactyl circling overhead.  A lot of good that would do, however, when helpless, we couldn’t even roll up in our blankets to hide from view.

Slowly, with the waning guidance and support of our friends and guardians from the other side, we got used to the giant “Talking Heads” that were all around us.   Before long we learned we could wrap these big folks around our little baby fingers; and they would come running –most of the time- when we cried. Dependent, we didn’t know who they were; but they seemed to be the only ones who would arrive to help us survive in these new body-vehicles we were test-driving.  On the other hand, they could cause major body damage if they dropped us or shook us to hard; not to mention they could also squash us like a bug if one of them accidentally stepped on us.

As toddlers we were off and running; motoring through life every waking hour.   Each day, we connected and disconnected somewhere around three million neuro-pathways and synapses as we alternately crashed and burned our way through time and space.  We were developing new skills of survival and learning what did and did not work with these new little special buses called physical bodies.  When we got hurt, pooped our pants or were hungry, we cried.  Hopefully, one of the “Talking Heads” would come running to our rescue.   Sometimes these big people would stick their big heads in our face and cooing, put kisses on us with their big lips.  They’d tickle us and then laugh when we laughed, snapping endless pictures so they’d never forget how darned cute we were in their own image.  Subsequently, they also tried to convince their friends and family that we were something special by posting these pictures in cyber space for all the world to see.

Now, I like everyone else, have a very personal and selective memory of my youth. I’d like to preface the following by saying that I realize that we adopt “our story” making it absolute truth when in actuality, it is a story we created initially, oftentimes with the mind of a child, based on very little fact in deed.  Whew, that was a mouth-full.  Most of us then live and relive our story, creating and re-creating people and outcomes over time that will actualize what we believe to be true; that is until we can recognize our stories as just that, “a story”.  At that point, walah, we may then be capable of extracting the truth from our story and alchemizing any past suffering.

Now I’m at a turning point,  I can choose whether to write “The End” or I can continue to share my story in spite of the fact that I know most of it is conjecture.  Although, because I started a story that like a dangling participle didn’t even make it through all of the conflict, introduce the characters, or even enjoy a climax, or resolution, I don’t feel complete.  Thus, please stay tuned for Part II of Who’s Driving the Bus.sign

To be continued…

 

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A VIEW FROM THE EDGE- HE SAID – SHE SAID PART I: PREFACE

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“That day was like the Perfect Storm, and like a Perfect Storm, it took just the right elements all descending down upon him at once. Tragedy isn’t always some random event that as (bad) luck would have it, just happens one day…”

PREFACE

I have a lot of thoughts to share that I believe could make a difference in the lives of others; things I wish someone could have shared with me as I went through the frustrations of trying to figure everything out for myself. Sometimes you don’t have the luxury of time to “reinvent the wheel.”  I know I didn’t! 

I’m grateful to have this opportunity and encouragement to update the statistics concerning the topics initially published in Chad’s Website. With the research I am now gathering, you will see that more, not less, people are struggling every day.   While there is significantly more awareness around the individuals who have been labeled Bipolar, ADD/ADHD, Autistic, and Depressed (hereinafter referred to by me as “Sensitives”), the statistics don’t support a proportionate amount of healing.   I’ll publish them later this week.  I think they will surprise you.  They did me.

I freely admit after my personal experiences with the Medical, Educational, Governmental Control Agencies and Rehabilitation Industries, I have some rather strong biases with regard to their Disease and Disorder Models and Treatments. I believe that individuals who are  “Sensitives” and, the people who love them, have many times been exploited. I can see the ways that these industries are or can be self serving, i.e. the “patient’s failure”, lines their coffers.  While I believe their initial intensions are good;  all they really have to do in order to be successful is to have better success rates then the next place.  As we all know, statistics and success rates are easily skewed. 

In Iowa, where I was raised, we used to have a saying, “you can’t make a pig dance.”  At the same time, these industries can’t do what they don’t know how to do.  Although there is no easy answers, the best solutions that we currently have to offer are clearly missing the mark.  Even though it’s challenging to see it with the “old ways and powers holding on tight”, we are evolving very quickly now.   I believe we are right on the cusp of a Paradigm Shift and the “Sensitives” are the way showers.

Since Chad’s story ended with Suicide, I may as well start there. I will work my way backwards to the beginning, where all stories begin (see potential forthcoming topics at the bottom of the page).  I would like to urge you to take what resonates with you and research it for yourself to see what you discover.  As always, I’m open to comments, questions and discussions.

SNEAK PREVIEW- COMING SOON

 HE SAID-SHE SAID

Chad will be speaking for himself from the “He Said” part of each story. I will copy excerpts from his Life Story, not necessarily in the order it was written, but as it may shed light upon a given topic.  From the “She Said” part of the story, I will be writing from my point of view. 

Chad’s story will give you a better idea of what it was like to walk in his shoes or perhaps what your child or teenager may be going through. There are so many things I found out after the fact, things written by Chad, and yes, things that were channeled.  Chad’s Story was only eight pages long, and was channeled just months after we found his body. His lifelong best friends said it was eerie because it sounded exactly like him and it shared things no one else could know.

POSSIBLE TOPICS TO FOLLOW:

  • The Beginning: Imprinted emotional Neuropathways during the first seven years of life;
  • ADD/HD: Behaviors and being sensitive to being victimized; 
  • ADD/HD and Learning Challenges: Education the critical part that learning and self esteem issues play with regard to successful integration of “Sensitives” into Society
  • ADD/HD Brain chemistry/imbalancespros and cons of Pharmaceuticals, holistic treatments, and self-medication
  • Addiction:   AA and Rehabilitation Methodology and Success rates
  • Grief:  The process of Grieving and Surviving the Legacy of Suicide and losing a child
  • Spiritual Growth-There is Life after Death
  • The Other Side:  Stories of connecting with Chad on the Other side

 

 

 

OLD INUIT SONG

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This prayer is one to remember in times when your challenges seem so large that you can’t find your way out.  Go back to the heart and be grateful for the simple things that matter, your loved ones and the gift of another day

Prayer at Time of Adversity

 

I think over again my small adventures,

My fears,

Those small ones that seemed so big,

For all the vital things

I had to get and to reach,

And yet there is only one great thing,

The only thing,

To live to see the great day that dawns

And the light that fills the world.

 

 

ROCKET MAN LOVE!

 

This one’s for you…thanks for the Ride!!

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With certainty, because he’d been there,

He says, “I’m going to show you true love” 

He tells you that your expectations stole it from your youth, your innocence

And you no longer recognize its ubiquitous presence

“Love is everything just as White is all colors,” he says 

“Love includes darkness just as White includes black.”

 He just shattered your illusion into a million shards of glass

 

The ride is like a rocket through a wormhole

It rattles your clenched teeth and your jaw tightens

Your muscles scream from the strain

As you try to contain it. You can’t

Something has to give, your heart pounds

Tears burst from your eyes to keep you from imploding and exploding at the same time

And, all at once, you hear yourself laughing like a crazy person

 

This would explain why you could never wrap your mind around it

The Big love that only a special few knew by name 

Funny, you had always thought big love was happiness, joy, bliss, unconditional and sustainable

But now you would come to know it as good and bad, happy and sad

Love was all wrapped up in omnificent expression

Its touch subtle

Its feeling immense

 

This was the real stuff, not at all what you expected

Not the rush of chemicals through your bloodstream

All lightning bolts and fireworks

Dopamine abandoning you to exhaustion

It was a smile, a babe in arms

The pain and emptiness of abandonment

The new bud of a rose unfurling itself to meet the sun

 

It is the whisper that resounds and echoes in your heart

It begins like the slow and throaty snarl of a great African lion

Gathering force with a  guttural and majestic roar that rattles your bones

Goosebumps rise on your flesh and a chill runs down your spine

It’s intensity reverberates  through the confines of who you thought you were

Shaking your entire being to its core

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The quiet hint of its magnitude gathers in your heart

And expands your chest until you can hear your ribs cracking

It rises through your throat, insisting you feel its primordial essence

You clench your jaws tighter,

You try to push it back where it came from, where it belongs, safely contained

This big Love, like a great master of illusion, eludes your efforts

Drifting by silently unnoticed on a veil of gossamer mist

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Passion rose up in you, tears burst from your eyes and trailed down your cheeks

Your jaws clenched tighter just before loosening the tiniest bit

You transcended into omnificence and expanded into the relief of presence

You became one with the great void that was peace

You heard the sweet sigh of stillness

You felt its weightlessness

And you heard its roar and felt its heaviness

It was the is-ness, the nothingness and the everything-ness

The blinding Whiteness of all colors

 

You allow your thought forms to trail into the clouds that slowly drift from sight

Alone in your omnificence, you float in a blue sky like a playful otter on its back

You are untouched by both the sea of madness and the sea of ecstasy

His voice follows the thought forms that trail into the clouds and disappear

 

All that it was, felt like enough

 Safely contained in your heart-space for eternity

It felt like each color of love melting into the Whiteness

A volcano of molten void

It welled up from the beginning, asking then begging

Spreading its roots crackling through layers of fertile soil

Bursting branches reaching to meet the sky

 

Your body couldn’t contain your passion for life

And it leaked out in tears

That became a stream bursting with the roar of roiling water over a dam

Like the human drama of orgasm screaming for relief

While holding its breath for the long expected final sigh of ecstasy

You wanted it to end

You never wanted it to end

This must be what he meant

 

His voice is softer now as if it comes from another place

It embodies the stillness of a snowflake drifting silently to the ground

 “This is what loves feels like” he says inaudibly

… Then I hear the deafening sound of silence, a final beep of the phone line and he’s gone, a blip on the radar

For a second, the sting of abandonment hung in the air like a period before the sentence

“Just float”, I whispered

 “Forget about him”

 

I rose up from the inky darkness of desertion that had enclosed me

I felt the support and vastness of the blue sky once more

In glee, I floated, twisting and turning, pivoting like a sky diver in free fall with outstretched arms

My heart pounded in my chest

It gasped out of fear and exhilaration

My breath became so shallow that I wondered if it would be my last

…And there you were, blazing towards me like a comet

Hands reaching for mine

From the nowhere-ness of love, you were freefalling your way to me

With intense momentum, you grasped my outstretched hands

We circled in a tailspin of kaleidoscope colors

And felt the thrill of Wing Suit Angels

Skydivers in formation

Together we circled and ‘plied’ through space and timelessness

Ours was a beautiful dance of vulnerability and trust

A dance of eternal love

We felt the velocity of created and creator

 

I gazed upon your face as tears of familiarity blurred my vision and burned a trail down my face

Your tender gaze met mine and your lips slowly turned into a suggestive half grin

Glee replaced emptiness as I screeched, laughing out-loud

I heard your familiar chuckle

In the echo of a thousand voices you said,

“See, I told you!”

 

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BRIDGING THE GAP