Reoccuring dreams

When I was much younger I had several reoccurring dreams.

1)

There was a line-up of either women or men. They all looked like either my mom or dad and I had the job of picking out which one was actually my parent. Whatever choice I made I had to keep, whether I picked the real one or not. Sometimes there were obvious things that gave the wrong ones away: a strong accent, shorter, taller, etc, but I was never 100% sure. Sometimes I would pick the right one, other times I would pick a much nice parent, and others a much worse one. So I would then be relieved, happy, or terribly upset, depending on the outcome. I haven't had this dream since childhood, but I still remember the strong feelings and the terror I always had when I was picking. I hated this dream, but it was not the worse of them.

2)

We lived in California. Earthquake and bomb drills were a common occurrence when I was growing up. I would often dream that we would have a major earthquake and that no matter where we lived at the time, the housing would get completely leveled. I would always be the only survivor and completely unscathed. I remember how cold and alone and terrified I always was standing in the rubble of my home knowing my mom or parents were dead. I haven't had this dream since childhood either.

3)


I've had this dream as far back as I can recall. Usually it is the actual place I live and it always happens exactly the same. I am walking into a room and I go to turn on the light and it does not turn. No matter what I try to turn on, nothing works. I go from room to room, trying everything and nothing works. I am terrified the entire time. I'm not sure if I'm afraid of the dark because of this dream or if this dream terrifies me so much because I am afraid of the dark. I haven't had this dream in a few years, but this is the one dream that did follow me out of childhood. I think I'm much more comfortable in the dark now than ever before, so maybe that is why I haven't had it recently.

I usually recall my dreams. If I wake up on my own without an alarm I can almost always recall some detail of at least one dream. Some of my dreams have even come true. I should keep a dream journal. That would be cool.

To be Human

God, why am I so easily corrupted? Greed, vanity, desire, gluttony, I am not impervious.

I believe that you love us unconditionally and absolutely regardless of whatever road we choose. I believe that you have nothing but absolute compassion for each and every one of us and that you know how hard we have it being constantly buffeted with temptations. We are weak and fallible and yet you have nothing but absolute love for us. I am humbled by this thought and feel slightly unworthy. Yet I know that your love is there to lift me, to help me, sooth me, strengthen me. It is here to give me light, hope, and comfort. It is here to carry me through anything life sets before me. That is why I should have no fear. I should have no worries. Would the worst to ever befall a person, befall me, you will still be here. Would I lose everything and everyone, you will still be here. I am absolutely unwaveringly sure of this and yet it is not something I can prove. Fortunately I do not have to because here is where faith steps in.

Is faith programmed? Is it genetic as some scientist now think? Maybe. I don't doubt that it could be. But that doesn't not mean that I still do not believe. We are taught to believe so much in this world: we are taught who to believe, what to believe, who is better, what is of value, which places are better, which things/people/places are worthy. I believe most of all that we are taught is complete and utter rubbish. We are conforming to some agenda pushed upon us that has been going on since before we were born and will continue to reign long after we are gone. From all the crap shoved down my throat I've surmised one absolute truth.

There is a force that lies within me and everything and everyone that gives us life and light. The energy that makes existence exist. I call that force God.

I don't know a whole heck of a lot. I have made, will make, and am in the process of making many mistakes in life. How do I know so? Because I am human. It is part of my fragil and completely fallible life. If I can forgive myself as God forgives me, If I can find love and compassion for myself as God has for me, then maybe all will not be lost.... in this mad, mad world.

Reality

The reality I have told you is indeed reality. That it may at times directly contradict the reality I may have told someone else, or have told you previously, or even discuss in the future does not negate that fact. Because reality is what is at present to be true. It isn't what could have been so, that I was hoping was going to be so then and now I am hoping isn't so. In other words.....

What I said when I said it I meant then AND what I say now I absolutely mean now, even if those two are complete polar opposites...this is so. It can be true. It is true. Inside me, inside everyone are constant contradictions, complete polarities in our personalities, ideals, moral structures. Every one has many different facets of themselves. Of course I'm primarily referring to feelings, ideals, thoughts, etc., not actual events. Even though everyone usually has their own unique take on events, and even though they don't stay static over time, events still usually retain the some basic semblance of themselves.

I may be giving myself too much credit here, but I really do honestly feel that 99.99% of the time I tell the truth. That I am prone to omission and mild exaggeration at times is out of preservation or to spare feelings, to retain some discretion or mystery. Because truly, not everything needs to be revealed in it's exactitude on every occasion. In fact, I firmly believe that most things are better left for others to come to their own conclusion about, to surmise for themselves. Like in that phrase - don't bother explaining; your friends don't need it, your enemies won't believe it (and it may even be used against you by either at some point..lol).

I know that stability and being able to count on someone being about the same in temperament and attitude and the such is easier to deal with. And I suppose not too many of us like to be around overly moody, volatile people. But it is these exact people that add spice to life, rock the boat, keep us on our toes, reinforce what we believe and who we are to ourselves. Some of our greatest artists, leaders and visionaries have been just this such kind of people. Even though I do not put myself into this class of people, I have come with time to give myself the liberty of being exactly who I am, even if it offends or shocks. Even if it contradicts who I was yesterday. Truth be told, I know I don't get that carried away with it. In fact I stay pretty much the same, pretty mellow, pretty self contained, bordering on boring. But I am happy and pretty much at peace with myself. So if I contradict myself, or who you think myself is....I'm sorry. I sometimes still manage to amaze and shock myself. Even at this ripe age I'm still learning about me. It's not the end of my journey and I still have a lot of different facets to live out. That's exciting and scary and overwhelming and makes it fun. Let's wait and see what I have to offer myself. I'm present and here for the ride. ;-)

Instant Karma

I've always had a strong sense of right and wrong. I think perhaps it stems from being caught trying to get away with things as a child. I can't recall a single instance where I "got over" on my parents. But I can recall the sometimes severe punishments to my infractions. Maybe being hit has a way of searing it into your brain better. I can't say. I do know that this strong sense of right and wrong is almost always unshakably black and white about everything. And I can tell you that karma has an easy time of it with me. Is it a self fulfilling prophesy? I really hope not. But I've never been able to escape it.

As a teenager and young adult when I would lie, the lie would come true. If I said I was sick and wasn't, I would then, indeed, fall sick. It seems petty and even funny, but when instances like these happen over and over in every kind of scenario you can imagine, you clearly see the pattern. The pattern is karma, and I've seen it also play out in my child. When she does something mean spirited, a consequence almost always immediately befalls her. This started at an age far too young for her to even grasp the concept of karma, yet there it was manifesting itself every single time.

My other child is much more like their father. Their karma isn't instant. They both also have an uncanny knack for lying without anyone but themselves knowing the full truth. Does it stem from this lack of instant karma? Maybe? Since they see no ill befall their bad behavior, it possibly reinforced that they could get away with it.

I don't believe they fully escape karma, though. Maybe it simply manifests differently, over longer periods, making it seem completely random. That's what I like to believe, but I really can't say, because my karma so obviously reports itself immediately. I can only account for my own reality and experiences. It's interesting though as a concept to know how different it is for everyone. How vastly different each person's experiences with right and wrong may be.

Nirvana and the six pack

He lived a few doors down on the opposite side of the hall from me, in the Firman Apartments off of 7th Street. I still remember the moment I saw him. To be completely accurate, I had seen him before a few times, very quickly in passing or from a distance. I had thought nothing more than another young guy in the apartments. But this one day changed everything.

It was a hot summer day. I was coming out of my apartment headed towards the stairs and he was walking bear chested towards me. He was headed towards the fire escape that flanked mine and the other apartment in the front of the building. That he wore no shirt didn't really stand out, even with his muscular trim leading the way. It was when he smiled at me that time felt as if it stood still. Just like all those corny movies depict.

Pan out a few years and you have an off-again, on-again tumultuous, passion driven, obsessive relationship. It was a love layered with maddening ecstasy and overwhelming despair. Towards the end we both wielded control over each other like zealot dictators. Love gave us this power and we savagely abused it. On one of our last break-ups, after a spell in which we were both suffocating each other in tyranny and depression, he packed and left. It was then that I experienced what can only be described as Nirvana. In talking to some people familiar with it, it seems that escaping an oppressing situation shot me into a complete sense of freedom.

Physically my world was exactly the same, but for 3 days after he left my mind and soul where on a different plane. It's hard to put into words something that is so difficult to grasp. Mostly because it is a concept that not everyone is particularly familiar with. I can't equate it to anything commonplace, but I'm going to try to describe it as best I can. Lovers and athletes may be familiar with a very similar sensation, when time seems to not exist, when everything feels perfect, as if your in complete sync with the universe. You have this sense of deep happiness and peace. Like everything is as it should be and you are at one with it all. It isn't something you think about or are even conscious of really, it just is. I had no fear, no worries, I lived each second with joy and exuberance. One of the highlights of my three days was the simple act of eating an apple. This beautiful experience of truly enjoying every single moment, every taste. I was completely present and fully alive. There was no sense of time, because the past and the future did not come into play, I was so enraptured by the moment, so wanting to soak it all in, every breath, every nuance. I was excited to experience whatever came my way. So thrilled to live whatever life set before me, so happy to see what each sinlge moment brought with it. I felt life flow through me, around me, and I was such a part of it and it me.

I remember at one point when I was crossing the street (semi-jaywalking), the cars stopped for me. This was a part of the street where cars ran fast and never stopped. Yet then, there, they all stopped, as if there had been a signal. It was if the flow of life was working with me. At that moment as I stared in awe at the stopped cars I understood exactly how the sea had parted for Moses. It was his way, it was his turn to go. And the Universe was in complete sync with him, even as it ran contrary to it's supposed "laws". This is how I have come to know that miracles are not that miraculous. They are just manifestations of the rightful order of things. I'm sorry if this isn't making sense, but it's as clearly as I can explain something absolutely intangible and seemingly surreal.

I remember too that twice strangers stopped me and supplicated for me to "be careful". I knew that they could sense how open I was, how open my heart was and they feared for me. I understood how afraid they themselves were, and I felt deep compassion for them, and so humbled by their genuine concerns. But I felt so utterly alive. More alive than I had ever felt before. I made the grave mistake of analyzing it, letting it go to my head. This slowly brought me back to "reality". I remember when he came back and I was trying to explain to him what had happened to me, and at that precise moment where I was halfway boasting of the experience, I completely lost it all. Every nuance was totally gone.

I've had moments of bliss. Moments I've felt close to God. Moments of ecstasy to be alive, but it's never been the same. I suppose that even if I were to experience it all again, it would never be exactly the same. It would be completely different, completely new, completely it's own experience. I'm sure of it. And one day, one day, I'll be there again..... I'm capable. Actually, we're all capable. It's just a matter of finding it within myself again. It's here waiting. It exists, within this reality, within this moment, it exists. It is me that needs to find my way there, because it is right here waiting. I know it is.

We sat on the couch crying. - Day she laughed

I thought this was a cute little story to follow the one I wrote. This happened before the other, and I may have never even written it, but it's such a cute memory for me.

The babe was 2 months old. I had just started working and the hubs had to take her to get her shots. I was grateful to not have to go, truth be told. He had called me the moment they left the doctors to inform me that she hadn't cried, had done well and everything was fine. I was very relieved, as my mom guilt had started to set in from going back to work.

I walked in the door from work that evening, sat my bag down and walked towards the two of them sitting on the couch. I remember so vividly how the moment she saw me she started to cry. She couldn't talk (obviously lol), but I completely understood that she was trying to tell me what had happened to her that day. I cradled her in my arms and we sat on the couch and cried together for a very long time. It still brings tears to my eyes.

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This next story occurred when she was just born. We would often just sit and watch her sleeping. This day I sat next to her while she slept soundly on our bed....when suddenly she started shaking.... her arms and legs started convulsing. I panicked for a second thinking it may be a seizure of some sort, and then, loudly, she laughed. It was more than a laugh, it was a deep joyous bellow of giggles and the hugest, prettiest smile I had ever seen on her. Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. It was months before I ever saw a laugh like that again, but fortunately those came when she was awake, so I didn't chance missing them.

What am I suppose to do with a baby?

I grew up an only child. We didn't socialize much. I wasn't in clubs. I had few friends. We had only a couple of relatives we visited. I was more of a tomboy, never really playing with dolls. So, here I was at 29, which is a nice ripe age to have a first child, with hardly a clue what to do with her, and no one to really guide me.

I remember one day when she was about 6 months old, as I carried her down from the bedrooms to start our day, I was staring at her quite puzzled. I couldn't believe I was in complete charge of another creature. I had a strong sense of disbelief, like someone somewhere had made a mistake. I kept staring at her as we walked slowly down the stairs, wondering to myself, what in the world am I suppose to do with you? Not in the short term sense, but in the grand scheme kind of way. I just felt the depth of the responsibility I had in front of me. And as if to sense exactly what I was thinking she looked back at me and lifted her cheek up to my mouth in a very ceremonious way, so as to receive a kiss. I rightfully gave her a huge kiss and understood so clearly the answer I had been seeking.

I didn't have to worry. There wasn't some master formula I had to follow. I didn't have to torture myself with doubts, blame or a sense of duty (not that I've managed to escape that completely). But I learned then that the only thing I had to do was love her. That's it. Children can do without so much, from the basics, like decent shelter, stable food, to the deluxe, like fabulous birthday parties and trips to Disneyland. But not a single child can do without love. So that right there is my only true obligation to her and I am so truly honored and grateful to do it.

It's just so ridiculously simple too. She is here for me to love. How great is that. Loving her is easy, that love is always there, but doing everything from that place of love, that has sometimes been the challenge. Disciplining from a place of love and not anger, responding from a place of love and not frustration, letting love be the source of all our interactions isn't always possible, but the journey has been a great one all the same.

And when the heavy hitter doubts start to kick in, the big questions, the distress. I sooth myself with the thought that if I'm doing the best I can and I'm doing it with love then nothing else can be asked of me. Sure, maybe there was a better response, maybe a better choice, a different decision, a better way, but if the way I chose (we chose) was the best way we saw fit at the time, then so be it. I can live with that. I figure most children have some reprimands of their parents anyway, some gripe or other and I'm pretty sure when it comes it will catch me completely off-guard. Like something I never even considered, probably. Because, that's just how life is. Never let yourself get too comfortable, because the game is always changing. lol But rolling with the punches and not taking any of it too seriously keeps it all pretty loose and fun. I think.

The Virgin Mary stood at the foot of my bed

Some people may find these stories sacrilegious maybe, I don't know. I'm just relaying them as they happened, or as clearly as I remember. They are not fiction, they are not loosely based on what happened, or my imagination. These are actual events. This particular story I've only told once or twice. I don't know why. It's a story that isn't at the forefront of my thoughts maybe. Yet, somehow, maybe because of this event I feel a very close bond with the Mother Mary. Even though, as I said before I don't endorse any religion and I don't idolize religious figures. Yet she invokes in me a deep sense of reverence and love. I'm not here to argue who she was, what she represents, which religion believes in her and why. Everyone has to figure that out for themselves in life, or let it be dictated for them... whatever works I suppose.

I was about 8 I believe. I had a live-in nanny that would go home on weekends. She was not very nice to me. I don't have a single positive memory of this woman. She didn't torture me, except to force me to eat the food she cooked, which was always horribly spicy. I remember sitting at the table for hours, not being able to swallow the fiery food, but I survived and here we are today. (lol)

She would always sleep in my room, to the right of my bed, on a soft foam filled folded chair that would open into a thick pad or bed. We never really talked or had much to say to each other, usually. She would say her prayers and that would be that. This one particular night I was awakened by her scream. I looked over the side of the bed as she lay sobbing and asked her what happened. She said that she had seen the Virgin Mary at the foot of my bed staring at me. I remember asking her some questions and she was unusually responsive to me that night. I asked her if that had been a bad thing and her saying that it wasn't. I remember her crying for a bit of time and me trying somehow to console her and falling back asleep. Soon after this occurrence she stopped sleeping at our house and very soon after that quit altogether.

I don't know if it's really true. I didn't see the vision. I think based on her reactions and what transpired that it did happen. I like to think it happened. Who's to say though.

Best Me

Yesterday, with only 10 minutes warning I had a dozen strangers traipsing through my abode. This packed onto an already hectic day had me in a bit of a tailspin. Even though most of the people were friendly and respectful, I felt very judged, vulnerable and intimidated. None of these are common emotions for me, which probably made them all the more poignant.

I tried all night to let it go. I even woke up to the same mild rush of emotions. Then today I finally just told myself to shake it off. Just shake it off. I'm not here to live anyone else's life. I'm not here to live up to anyone's expectations. I'm just here to be me. To live out my own experience. I'm here to be the "best" me I can be and it's up to no one but myself to determine just who that is. So judge away. Come in and look in all my deep dark cavities. What do I have to hide? I can guarantee that anything I do or have done has been done by many now and before me.

That said, I'm not trying to compare myself to anyone. I'm not here to live my life for someone else, or by someone else's standards. I have a hard enough time living up to my own standards, most days. I can't take that on. So I'm shaking it off. This supposed judgment, may or may not even be so. Although it probably is, since everyone seems to be so horrendously judgmental, but so what. I don't have to subject myself to that judgement. Their judgement isn't me. I don't have to take it on, or take it personally. It's them doing what they do. So be it. I'm gonna be me, doing what I do and be totally at peace with that. At least that's the plan. That every so often it slaps me in the face and says "I don't think so"....well...I'm going to use that to my advantage, as reinforcement. YES. IT IS SO!!

The man on the bus

I was 16 when this happened. I was taking the bus on Sunset Boulevard heading home from my new school in Lincoln Heights. I got on the crowded bus and saw a seat available, even though a dozen people stood. I grabbed the seat and immediately noticed why the seat was empty. To my right sat a disheveled, older man with clear mental issues. He smelled a tad pungent as he rocked himself forward and back with a low moan. He was obviously distressed. I looked at the people who watched me sit down, that were probably wondering what I would do next, now that I was aware of the situation.

I sat back slowly, closed my eyes, calmed my breath and started sending the man soothing thoughts. I kept telling him he was okay, everything was alright. I'm sure it was an interesting sight for those that were witnessing this. Slowly the man stopped moaning and rocking, but the moment my attention diverted from sending him soothing thoughts he would start up again. So the entire ride I proceeded to send him these thoughts. The bus ride wasn't more than about 15 minutes. As my stop approached I started to bid him farewell (mentally) and as I opened my eyes and proceeded to leave his shaking became very vigorous, far worse than it had been when I had sat down originally. But there was nothing I could do. I felt bad. I truly did. The poor man on the bus that no one would sit next to, who was probably 100 times more afraid of those people on the bus then they were of him.

The man with the turbon that danced on air

I was about 14 or 15 when this happened. I was at a bus stop in Pomona on my way to my Dad's house I believe. It was a nice sunny day and I was only one of two people waiting at the stop. I had in my hand a book I had really been enjoying called "Notes to Myself", by Hugh Prather. It was a collection of anecdotes and insights and I remember that his follow-up book felt very trite and I had no care for it at all, while this book I enjoyed tremendously.

So there I was standing at the bus stop, book closed in my hand and this man in a turbon approached me suddenly and stood well within my comfort zone. He grabbed the book from my hand and looked at it briefly. I wasn't afraid or disturbed by his proximity. I was only slightly shocked by his boldness. He looked up from the book and handed it back to me as he looked me in the eyes and said "You do not need this book, you already know this". He smiled one of the most beautiful and soothing smiles I've ever felt and then he walked away, as quickly as he had come. It was so brief I doubt it was even 20 seconds we interacted, yet it felt so long and slow and comfortable. I still remember his eyes so dark and warm and loving. When he walked away across the park that sat behind the bus stop it was as if he was gliding or dancing across the grass. His movement was quick, yet marvelously fluid and beautiful and I watched him in complete awe until he was well out of sight.

I had never seen someone in a turbon before and I had never had someone interact with me in that way. So abrupt, yet so warm and welcoming, as if I had come into his world and not him into mine. It's such a beautiful and magical experience and I stood completely motionless and mute through the whole thing. I had almost no part in it really, which is the funniest thing of all. And this was the day I saw the man in the turbon dance on air.

Jesus drank a beer in my front yard

Okay.... it's may seem laughable, but this really did happen. I'm going to explain it exactly as it occurred and you can take from it whatever you want. Let me just preface it by saying that I don't actually believe it was Jesus himself, not so much because I think he is dead...because if he did exist and have the powers he did and return to life, then couldn't he in fact be alive still today and/or re-appear at will in whatever form he choses to. Maybe. I don't know.. just food for thought, but anyway.... Primarily I don't believe it was him because he looks just like the cliche pictures and statues of him. Wasn't Jesus of Middle-east decent? He just wouldn't look that way. I find so many aspects of religion so hard to swallow. Anyway... here goes.

I was home alone at our small house in Norwalk. It was summer and I had been home alone all day. My mother did not permit me to leave the house or have friends over, because of several instances where I had abused the privilege. So I was stuck with only the TV for company, a latchkey, only child of a single mother with no funds to put me in any kind of camps or full-time daycare. I was 9 years old, bored, lonely, hot and fairly sad. Even back then I could only watch TV for up to 5 hours or I would develop a massive headache. I've always had this condition.

This particular afternoon I heard the front gate open and I saw a man, maybe in his late 20's or early 30's come in. He was Anglo, with long scraggly brown hair and an unkept look. He looked a lot like my father's ironworker co-workers or a construction worker, with jeans and a scruffy t-shirt on. He didn't look homeless per se, and I was very familiar with what homeless people tended to look like at the time.

The man casually strolled in and sat himself under the shady avocado tree in the front yard and leaned against the trunk of the tree. He had with him a beer, which he proceeded to drink very slowly. I watched him through the curtain. I wasn't afraid, but I found it so odd how he just sat there with no care or concern. Nothing like this had ever happened before. It was funny that he seemed completely unaware that I was in the house watching him. I called my mother at work and she advised me to not worry and call her back when he left. I'm sure she didn't want to call the police because even though at the time it was not against the law for me to be home alone, in that neighborhood, it probably would have still looked pretty bad.

He sat there for what seemed like hours, enjoying the hot summer with a cold beer under the cool shade of the tree. He seemed so completely at peace and happy. As I sat on the couch and watched him it completely changed my perspective. Here he was, enjoying doing nothing at all. Completely pleased with absolutely nothing, in a place that was not his, un-invited and alone. He had this look on his face of such peace and comfort. I had never seen anyone like him before; not his "look", but his demeanor, his presence. It was so different and beautiful.

I never saw him again, but the vision of him...the memory of him I carry in my heart forever.

Love for the devil?

I had a dream last night that the family and I went through what we thought was a very sever earthquake. When we tried to vacate the building we were in, we saw that what was happening was in fact an invasion. Creatures that looked a little similar to corny movie zombies were enslaving the human survivors. I got separated from the family while trying to find a place to hide and got taken in by one male figure. He was strong, but not in a physical sense. He wanted and had complete power over me in every sense. He had me with him through several scenes and while I did not enjoy being his slave and what he made me to do and while I at every turn tried to escape I loved him. I also knew, he was the devil himself. I did not love him because of his power, or his "status" and most definitely not for the torture he put upon me. Yet, knowing him, seeing through to his true self, I found love for him.

At one point when we were running in the chaos, I confronted him and told him that I knew exactly who he was, even as he wore what he thought was a suitable disguise. This angered him greatly, yet also brought an almost imperceptible sly smile to his face. I also began to willingly do what he wanted. He had welded with his fingertips my mouth shut and had put a drop from this small apparatus into one ear to make it deaf. I then grabbed the apparatus and put a drop into my second ear, to the amazement of those being enslaved around me. This had been his punishment to me for a failed attempt to escape. Yet, through it all, I found love for him. True love; and it was this love that was getting me through the ordeal. Letting me not suffer it so greatly. Letting me, not so much enjoy it, but bear the weight of it, and see through to who the devil really was.

It's just a dream. I'm sure it's based on this whole "end of the world" Mayan thing going on in my subconscious. It's a little laughable to me. I only wish I knew if it was actually true. I'd pull the girls from school and start traveling the world. Taking in its beauty and mystery and enjoying the magic of the many cultures it holds.

This dream reminded me of my week stay at the Buddhist Monastery. At the end of the week we sat down with the head monk in a group session and discussed what we came away with. I had come away with the thought that we are caught between good and evil, and that we have enough love in us to bear that burden and come through the journey. Yet the head monk insisted that that was not correct, that we must turn our backs to the entity of hate and turn only to the entity of love. That we should not give love or attention to it, that it will suck every bit of anything we give to it. That is it to be shut out, completely. Yet, that seems a little off to me.

I believe, based on my own personal experiences with life, from what I have read, seen and learned, each of us has chosen to be here. We come from God/heaven, the one I discussed previously, to experience "life" and to play. We do not know or understand exactly how hard the journey is or the peril we place our souls in. We come and we are given the privilege and curse of choice. Our collective memory erases so that we may indeed be able to play and see ourselves as separate entities. Fortunately God is with us, just as in the footprints poem, but the devil is there as well, every single step. It quite laughably reminds me (very loosely) on the battle between King Triton and Ursula in the Disney movie "Ariel". That we are pawns in the battle of God vs Evil is not what God intended or wants for us, but I firmly believe that this is the case. In fact, I think that God does not want us to leave at all, which is why God takes some of us so early on, or takes the "good" ones. We are taken back before we have a chance to be corrupted and taken another way. Why some of us are taken back home and others of us are left to fight our individual battles of good versus evil, I do not know. I do know that it is our free will and understanding that makes this situation possible. I also think that the battle is never to be won on earth. That good and evil being energies are the ying and yang of each other and while they are in constant flux, remain always in balance, perhaps not in our individual lives, but as a whole in our universe.

I will definitely not be so bold as to say that taken to Hell I will have enough love to fight against the Devil, because God has no reign in Hell. But here on earth I do believe, that with the help of God at my side, I have everything I need to combat the Devil in this life, save my soul for its return to heaven and live a life of peace and joy. That it is a never-ending battle is just a absolute given. But with love, I truly believe....all things are possible.

So much more is possible then we may ever be able to grasp. There is so much more to living than we have even begun to see. We can take this experience into so many different avenues. If we could stop living the life of illusion outside of ourselves and live the life from within our hearts and souls. I'm not saying evil would be eradicated, but maybe we could then escape this "karmic wheel". Maybe we could live out the life that we each thought we were coming here to live.

Running with a dolphin

Today we went for a bike ride and I told my daughter about the time I ran with a dolphin. It's a cute and memorable story that gave me a lot of joy and peace and I thought I'd share it here today.

It was about 13 years ago, back in my single, footloose days, when I had the time and energy to exercise two times a day. Part of my exercise routine would be to run about 4-6 days a week, for 2-4 miles a day, sometimes more. This one particular day was a typically beautiful California day and I was running along the bike path that stretched alongside the beach. I was about 3/4 of a mile from my house when I looked out to the ocean and spotted the dolphin. I had never seen a dolphin at this beach. For one, the jetty almost completely encapsulates this strand of beach and the oil rigs in its center don't add to the water quality. But there it was, jumping in and out of the water right along side of me. Between the sand and water we were probably at least 50 feet away from each other. Yet, it seemed to unmistakably be keeping pace with me. There was no one in front or behind me that I could see, and only a couple people passed in the opposite direction.

As I jogged not extremely fast, it kept constant and exact pace with me jumping at frequent and steady intervals. And we ran this way for the remainder of my jog home. I stopped as I headed up the stairs to see it off, but the water must have become too shallow at that end of the beach, because after I stopped I didn't see it any longer. Part of me hopes that when I start jogging I can see it again. I've taken several walks along the bike path since we've moved back, but part of me thinks it's not until I start jogging again that I may, if ever, have the chance to see my running partner again.

New World - End of this time

So... the Mayans ended their calendar in May of 2012, or so I've gathered from conversations here and there. I don't watch the news, I'm not really that interested in predictions of doom and destruction. But...... I had 3 days last year, where I fell through the rabbit hole and in these days God spoke to me. Not directly, as in a voice, but indirectly, through signs and other people. From this experience is where I got the name for my blog actually.

In these 3 days one of the many, many things I gathered was that God needed help. God wants to bring another savior to the world. In these 3 days I had thought God wanted to give me the honor and I actually tested positive for a pregnancy .... but it wasn't meant to be. I hope God did find a woman strong enough to honor this enormous request.

So.... if those 3 days that I spent have some bearing in reality, then that is truly what will be happening. It is the dawn of a new age. An age of awakening, awareness, back to the heart of God, as God brings to life a true Messiah.

I can not say with 100% certainty that this will be the case. I think it is, but I guess we'll see.

Heaven and Hell

This is a strange post for me because I do not believe in organized religion, and while I want to believe that there was a Christ, I do not believe a great deal of what I've read in any bible. I was raised Catholic and went to Catholic school for several years, so I am familiar with the general premise of the religion. I don't hold religion against anyone, but I do not feel the personal need to believe in order to be "saved".

So then, how can I say without a single speck of hesitation or doubt whatsoever that I believe heaven and hell exist? Because...I have experienced both firsthand and these experiences are more real to me than the hands with which I type these words. It is more concretely inbeded in my psyche than 99.9% of the experiences I've ever had. I am not asking anyone else to believe. I am not hoping to persuade anyone. I am not seeking approval. I am simply sharing my experience. I also can not quantify it. I do not know how it works, or why it is so. This is where my own personal faith comes in. I still believe re-incarnation is a possibility. I believe that God performs what we call "miracles" every moment of every day. That we see them as "miracles" is only because our perspective is very narrow. God knows. One day I will know again and with that I am satisfied.

Heaven:
I was 16 years old. I had had a 2 hour phone call right before bed with my best friend Paul over religion and all things existential. That night while I dreamt I experienced Heaven. It was a reddish hue expanse that was infinite...limitless. In it I felt pure bliss, pure happiness, complete acceptance and absolute love. There was no me in this experience. There was just a never-ending sense of oneness and completeness. There was no beginning, no end, no place or non place, no here, or there. Just a sense of being.

I woke up from this dream, like out of the thickest fog. 100 times more powerful than any anesthesia or drug. I didn't know who I was, what I was, where I was, what things themselves where. Every single aspect of reality was 100% new to me. I very, very slowly started to acclimate myself. I remember as I stepped into the shower to start my day I cried in devastating agony. I remember throwing the shampoo on the tub floor in a fit of absolute rage. I was so angry to be alive.

I've tried many times to duplicate that feeling, to feel that same connectedness. Meditation, drugs, true love, the birth of my children, everything, and nothing on earth, no experience has ever been close to what I've felt...except maybe one kind-of (to be discussed later).

Hell:
I was about 20 years old. Nothing memorable or noteworthy happened that night before. In a dream that night I was in a very dark cavernous place. I could sense what felt like a male presence laughing or mocking me. The presence was enjoying my misery. I have no specific sense of time or space, but I did know myself. I was there as I am here now and while nothing was psychically happening to me, every conceivable wrong was being cursed upon me. Every fear, anxiety, every insecurity and secret angst was being realized. My deepest pains, sorrows, regrets, every hurt, every suffering was being brought out and made to be again... and all at once. Panic does not even begin to explain my reaction. I was horrified beyond words and thoughts, because I knew without a shadow of doubt that this was never to end. This thing was going to keep torturing me and nothing and no one was going to stop it. Somehow I screamed in real life and woke Rob (my boyfriend) and myself up. My entire body jumped across the bed to him, to his arms and I was never so glad to be alive. I had never felt so much evil and so broken, helpless and hopeless as I had been then. I struggled to catch my breath and could barely explain to him as I sobbed uncontrollably what had happened.

I've since had many experiences of hopelessness. I've fought and still fight my fair share of demons (within myself) and have experienced many dark times. But no one and nothing has come close to the sheer terror of this experience. This entity was the exact polar opposite of the previous one, more or less.

The thing that has always stuck me as odd is that in "heaven" I had no sense of male or female, no he, she, they, them, me, nothing. Where in "hell" there was a distinct separateness and there was the feeling of a very specific entity, which felt masculine, but it is hard to say not having seen anyone or anything. It's still very hard to put into concrete words these experiences, especially because they are still so personal and real to me. It's taken me over 20 years to open up and accept these experiences as a distinct part of my own reality. I can't say I have a real sense of what to do with them though... as of yet.