Water Dove

I wish I knew who to give credit to for this beautiful print. I keep it on the wall above my altar as well as the screen of my phone. 

The concept of pouring fresh water - positive outcomes - out onto the planet in times of struggle with life situations and tragedies gives me something to focus on other than what is actually happening. 

She is magical, powerful, confident, peaceful, and compassionate... all the attributes that make me feel safe. 

She is bigger than any problem the planet and I might be facing.

She represents hope.

It's been especially difficult hearing recent news that one friend's husband passed away and another friend's daughter passed away. In past years, an acquaintance's daughter passed away, a woman I used to work with passed away, a neighbor's husband and son passed away. While I believe they are not gone, just in another dimension, I am affected by the grief of those left behind.

Do you have an altar? I do. It's especially helpful in dealing with the above circumstances. I have a shelf in my bedroom with various artifacts that represent my beliefs. I don't practice a particular religion. I think I made one up of my own that includes bits and pieces of all of them. Some artifacts, photos, and written words represent dreams, healing, a photo of my 5-year-old self (who sometimes needs extra love and attention), my spirit animals, and images that represent my spirit guides. 

I keep a small vessel of water for them to drink when they are thirsty... and the water often disappears, especially after I request healing and assistance for the people I care about. 

And I am surrounded by books that provide comfort.

Last month, I read The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe. He and his mother both love books. While she is getting chemo treatments for cancer, even though she doesn't have long to live, he sits with her while they discuss the books they are each reading. I can't imagine reading as many books as they did, but now I include, "What book(s) are you reading?" in conversations.

I recently finished reading Soul Mind Body Medicine by Dr. Zhi Gang Sha. He stresses the need to heal the soul first which will then heal the mind and the body. The book is loaded with brief prayers and chants for just about everything, right down to the individual cells of our bodies. I put a sticky note on the front of my mobility scooter that says, "Thank you for unconditional, universal service." I've been thanking everything I come in contact with this way. This is a book that requires more than a one-time read-through. 

The content of this book adds to all the other healing modalities I've been learning over the years. I caught myself wondering out of all the different healing programs I've participated in, which one do I focus on? But the answer I got was to focus on one tiny particle at a time until it is assimilated. Then tackle another one. Trust my intuition in each case because each case will require something different.

I open some books to a random page to see what I find. One of these books is Lead Me, Holy Spirit by Stormie Omartian. The word synchronicity comes to mind as I see the same words in multiple books that relate to what I am thinking about. 

I am just about done reading Forgive for Good: A Proven Prescription for Health and Happiness by Dr. Fred Luskin. The words renting space in your mind to one or more grievances hit home. Luskin teaches a course in forgiving that focuses on gratitude, love, and appreciation of nature. 

I've written about how much I like the knob on the door of Howl's Moving Castle. When I don't like what I'm thinking about, turn the knob. Luskin teaches a similar concept as channels on a TV. Are you watching the grievance channel or a story about a heroic act of kindness? Are you blaming someone else for your inability to be peaceful and happy? Are you renting space in your mind to unenforceable rules?

This morning, I also opened Thriving as an Empath and found, "Everybody deserves the dignity of their own path. I will respect someone's healing process without trying to fix them." Good message for me. I want to fix everyone.

In the theme of reading a little out of several different books, I am also working my way through The Dragon Doesn't Live Here Anymore by Alan Cohen. I opened it up to the next chapter one morning after reading from another book. It just happened to be on forgiveness.

In the meantime, the words that came through my fingers as I wrote My Quest for Healing still demand my attention. I seem to have amnesia about what I wrote. Each time I read it again, it is as if I am reading it for the first time. 

Perhaps I rent too much space in my mind for all the words to all the books I read.

I'm still not sure where all this education is leading me... I just feel like it IS leading me somewhere. I will be starting another series on healing in two months - not sure what it is yet.

Mysteries.

The other night I saw flickering lights in my peripheral vision. I was told to pay attention when I notice them - that these are spirit guides. The following night, just as I closed my eyes to go to sleep, the back porch light came on. It was so bright, I saw it through my closed eyelids. I got up and turned it off. I wonder if it was related to the friend who just lost her daughter. Many years ago, at about 9 in the evening, a large round mirror that was hanging on my bedroom wall crashed to the floor and shattered. I found out the next day that my son had been mugged in a parking lot at the time the mirror fell. They just took his walkman and left him unharmed. I wish my friend's daughter was left unharmed.

Water Dove, let's pour out peace over all those who are grieving.

Let's replenish the earth with resources.

Let's replenish the atmosphere.

Let's have a peaceful night's sleep.

---

January 14. Update. This morning, I opened Forgive for Good to Chapter 10. Then I opened The Dragon Doesn't Life Here Anymore to The Way Out. Same message. Perhaps you can get both of these books to read side by side.

The Little Pill

As I placed the tiny pill (Mirtazapine/Anti-Depressant) into my daily pill reminder, it finally sunk in how much power a tiny little pill has on the human body. (Animals, too.) One tiny Ativan or Valium can sedate you in the midst of an anxiety attack. One tiny pill can lower your blood pressure. How much power do you think the food you eat has? And the chemical additives and preservatives have? And the toxins in skin-care products and household cleaners?

I can appreciate the miraculous system of my body to process the food I eat and the fluids I drink, but I no longer want to give it more than it can handle – and create and maintain optimal health. By optimal, I mean the best I am capable of giving my body – to support its pre-existing conditions – with the hope it will continue to grow stronger.

In the meantime, since buying doTERRA Peppermint oil, I’ve had an insatiable appetite to inhale it and drink water with two drops in it. Two TINY drops. All day long, each time I refill my glass of water.

When I mentioned this to my ‘teacher,’ she responded, “Well, of course! Peppermint is anti-inflammatory! That makes perfect sense!”

At that moment, I realized that two tiny drops had been, indeed, reducing overall pain… a pleasant addition to getting more Oxygen during the night while I sleep with the CPAP. My other favorite right now is Past Tense. I roll some of this on the vertebrae of my neck and feel the warmth spread, while the scent of delicious oils permeates my senses.

And then there’s HOPE. I was intrigued, so I ordered a bottle. It smells wonderful! doTERRA created HOPE to give out to children who are being enslaved by sex trafficking, with the promise they would be rescued by the Healing Hands Foundation, which partners with Operation Underground Railroad. Did you even know there was one? They hand out bottles of HOPE to children they are seeking to rescue (it's a process) to let them know a rescue is planned. All profits from selling this oil to the rest of us benefits this Foundation as well. 

Knowing I am buying something ($20 a bottle) that makes this much difference in the lives of children, gives me HOPE for this world. doTERRA partners with indigenous people in other countries as well for plant farming in their natural habitat. While the plants are being attended by the farmers, doTERRA provides those who participate improved quality of living. I know when I buy the oils, I am also contributing to decent salaries (charities) all over the world vs. buying products that are produced by child labor for pennies.

Back to the tiny pill. I was one of many who were brainwashed to believe the pharma pills had all the power, along with the doctors who prescribed them. Back in 2010, I was taking 11 prescription drugs every day. Now I only take two. 

May I, as well as many others, find solutions for their health with clean eating… and Certified Therapeutic Grade Essential Oils, like doTERRA. (The ones sold in Walmart say they are not safe to ingest and likely diluted with additives.) Indeed, it surely is nice to crave Peppermint oil instead of sweets and junk food!

Santa Claus

(Content from this post was included in my book, Appearances: A Journey of Self-Discovery in Chapter 8: Santa Claus. I modified the chapter for Project 4 Toastmaster Speech.)

I was the 2nd born of 6 children. My grandparents on both sides of the family were Russian, Orthodox Jewish immigrants. My mother’s father was a tailor and made clothes. My father’s father started an advertising specialty business.

While my mother stayed home with us, my father worked for his father’s business which didn’t pay very well so when Chanukah came, we got one big present we all had to share. Fortunately, my mother loved crafts, so each year we learned a new craft and made presents for everyone in our family.

In the meantime, everyone I knew in school celebrated Christmas and talked about what Santa Claus brought them. Well, I thought Chanukah was boring! I wanted Christmas! With LOTS of presents, a beautiful big Christmas tree that smelled like evergreen and was decorated with ornaments and colored lights. I wanted decorations on the front lawn… like our neighbor had.

One December, while I was still a little girl, our neighbor asked my mother to paint the details on some reindeer she got for her yard display. Mom did a beautiful job, but would not accept any money—HOWEVER, that year, Santa Claus came.

Santa brought each of us girls our very own baby doll. I didn’t have to share her with ANYone. I played house and made all kinds of houses and furniture out of boxes, cardboard, and fabric.

We all grew up and got busy with our own lives, careers, and families so there was no longer time to be creative. And none of us dated or married anyone Jewish. In 2 separate relationships, the partners I had were often unemployed and had bad credit. They insisted I spend the holidays with their families and I couldn’t go to mine. They also insisted on buying their family members expensive gifts—with MY credit cards. I can’t believe I let them! In spite of the red flags, I even married the 2nd one.

With my life often in a state of chaos, I wished with all my might that there was a real Santa Claus. One day when I was picking up supplies during the holiday season for the service station I was working for, I saw a beautiful stuffed Santa. Back at work, I described it to my boss with childish excitement. When he went to the store the next day, he bought it for me and said Merry Christmas! I don’t think he realized how precious that gift was to me. Santa Claus became a symbol of hope and I kept him out all year long.

My husband not only insisted we spend the holidays with his family, he insisted we move from California to Austin, TX. Most of our stuff, including Santa, went into a storage space in California before we left. We weren’t able to go back that summer and get the stuff out of storage as planned.

As Christmas was approaching, I got homesick and announced I wanted to take a trip to see my family. My husband said NO and replied that I had to choose between him and my family. I chose. I left him in November 1995 and took my son home via Amtrak to visit my family.

During that trip, I drove to the storage locker to get my son’s body-board, my Santa, and a few other things I really missed only to find out that the lock had been changed. Apparently, my husband was afraid that I’d take something of his while he wasn’t there.

My son and I boarded Amtrak Christmas eve to return to Texas. I cried myself to sleep that night on the train. On Christmas morning, Santa Clause came to me again… in a dream. He handed me a small magic sleigh that transported me to many different rooms in a large house. Each room contained one of the goals I had in my life. He said to look! It is all yours! The last room I was taken to was a room full of toys.

There was a little boy sitting in the middle of the toys crying and a little girl standing with a stubborn expression on her face. The little girl was told that she had everything she wanted and needed to make her happy but the boy had nothing but the toys. Why not let the boy have all the toys? When she agreed, I woke up.

Contrary to the way I felt the night before, I was in a state of total and complete joy. I knew that God used the symbol of Santa Claus to give me hope. I realized the little girl was my inner child and that the little boy was my husband’s inner child. With Santa’s promise that every one of my dreams would be fulfilled, I released the despair of losing all my and my son’s things.

When my son and I got back to Texas, I hired a lawyer and filed for divorce with a loan from a friend and gave the whole situation to God to work out. I found Rudolph at a Thrift store and he kept me company, assuring me that Santa would return. At the end of the school year I made arrangements to stay with my older sister, and moved back to California with my son.

Shortly after we arrived, my niece spotted my Rudolph and showed me her Santa. We shared stories about how we ended up with them. The following day, she brought home a Rudolph that matched her Santa and gave them both to me as a gift. She didn’t see my tears. Santa kept showing up to remind me that everything would be OK.

When I felt hopeless that December, I could only see a small part of a much bigger picture. At the time I did not realize I would be returning to California to continue my life. It turned out that I was fortunate our things were still in storage there, for just like we didn’t have the money to bring them to Texas, I would not have had the money to bring it all back home.

My lawyer sent me a letter stating that my soon to be ex would get what was his out of the storage space the following July and turn the key over to me. Since all the furniture had been bought with my credit cards, I was to have the furniture, too. People told me not to trust my ex—but I trusted God, and I knew Santa would be there to supervise.

My son and I celebrated Christmas that July when we were able to get our things out of the storage locker. To this day, Santa Claus is very special to me.

2022 Update. 

I had met a woman named Nancy a few years back at an author event. She asked me if I could produce Grandma's Tales for her. After this was complete, she asked me if I knew any bookkeepers as she and her husband had a nonprofit called Reaching Beyond Words. Early in their lives, they had been missionaries in Ethiopia, Uganda, and the Philippines; however, they felt discouraged when they returned. They met with other people and founded the nonprofit to create sustainable programs. Three of the programs included training widows in business and providing seed money so they could support their families; building a school; building an orphanage. They continue to fund these programs. I took on the task of doing their bookkeeping. 

Nancy noticed I liked doing jigsaw puzzles and brought me one of a Thomas Kinkade 3-story house. I somehow was able to complete this 1,000-piece challenge and decided to hang it on my wall in a frame... because it reminded me of the house in my Santa Claus dream. With Christmas decorations, I placed my small sleigh on the chest below it, a symbol of the sleigh that transported me to the rooms of that house. 

Several months ago, I met a 32-year-old musician and music teacher who inspired me to write songs again and brought hope into my life. I felt a spiritual connection to this old, wise soul who I bonded with via music and conversations. He was playing on Thursday nights at a place called Wool and Vine, so I began to go to listen. After a long period of isolation, it was a good activity for me. The programs I was involved with were online so I was also starving for physical touch, and several of the people there were huggers when we greeted each other.

When someone new comes to visit and asks me about the puzzle art on the wall, I get to retell the above story. Yesterday, December 29, he brought me two more puzzles. In one of many spiritual connection moments, he looked up, saw the painting, and asked if it was a puzzle. Because I just retold the story, I searched my blog for it and decided to update this post. 

And I wonder if this new person is one of Santa's elves aka messengers, sent to give me hope again. I know it is his nature to use his past experiences to give hope to others... and he reminds me to do the same.