The power of my time with the indigenous Waitaha and the thread that ran through this New Zealand trip fell into perfect alignment with who I am… Where I have been… And what I have chosen to do with it all.
Home… Family… Do No Harm!
I shared my story for the first time hiding behind the shirt tails of Junebug, the leading character of my first novel by the same name. From this vantage point I was given the space to watch the story of my life play out as an adult and really listen and see her journey from all angles. I could see her struggles standing beside her amazing wisdoms. The experiences into different realms or realities, interactions with beings outside of what we have made solid is where she gets her truths.
You see, my journey through childhood sexual, physical and emotional abuse fuel the passion that has kept me moving forward. I was in therapy and drugged for 30 years. On the outside, you would think she had a great life. I owned a successful salon. Married an amazing man… an actor. We had two beautiful daughters. What the outer picture didn’t show is what happened when I turned off the lights and locked the doors to this thriving business. The mask came off. I hurt all over. Couldn’t keep any food inside. My body was dying. My mind was caving in on itself. I went home and slept and got up the next day to do it all over again. Sometimes. As I suffered those that loved me and that I claimed to love suffered.
Deepak Chopra, my teacher and mentor said… “Pain happens but suffering is a choice.”
This became my moto for finding freedom. I was angry. I was incensed and I sat with it. How many years is it going to take for me to breathe my first unlabored breath? As I rise I look around and see the multitude of others chained in the same prison. My promise to them was and is… I’m coming back in with a map and a flashlight.
An interaction with a Medicine Man in Baltimore spoke to me about the magic of woman. The Creator uses woman as the vessel for the creation of life. She chose woman as the guardian over Her in Her most vulnerable state. We forgot. We forgot Our magic. We forgot Her power. In remembering… Woman finds respect. Respect of self and respect for each other. In remembering we acquire wisdom… The wisdom of the Grand Mothers??
The Medicine Man told me of the tribune of Grand Mothers. Each choice made by the elders was sent through the women for approval. If they deem the proposal unsound back to the drawing board they go. Balance.
A shaman in Ireland spoke to me about the children. He spoke to me about woman’s power and the importance of home. Home… What is that? Not a house. Home… which I felt in my bones for the first time with the Waitaha. Welcome home… the first words I heard.
The shaman spoke of the need for woman to step into what I call MOM ENERGY, and heal ourselves. Rid ourselves of the cancer that undermines our lives and the lives of those that our choices affect. It ripples out. It ripples throughout our lineage… backwards and forwards. Like a hummingbird. The rules don’t apply.
PTSD is the cancer of the mind. It is the cancer that stealthily winds its cells around and into every choice we make from underneath… We don’t know it’s there until it starts affecting the outside.
These threads that run through time as cycles… Are a chain reaction to the blips on our timeline. That point when an outside choice was made that had an adverse effect on your programing. You began to make different choices. And so did the reality around you.
PTSD keeps us in the backward flow of reaction. A reaction that never gains momentum. When in this state of reaction, we are surviving… but merely functioning. We are on guard and responding to what is showing up versus the forward motion of action. The state of action is like a game of chess. Your senses are blazing and you are at attention. Taking your time to consider what you want and how you’re going to get it. What is acceptable? Who do I want to be? How do I want to be Remembered?
PTSD is the call to remember. It is the pull of those parts of us that have been left behind. A fragment of your soul, trapped, living in the loop of that same experience over and over again. At that point of the blip… that point where… in reaction… we decide that we are going to do something different—we are going to create a new reality.
The medical world calls it dissociation. I call it REALITY HOPPING.
Astral travel and dissociation? The same thing. One is a choice and the other a reaction… Today. It was a choice the first time. In all my studies, I hear no talk about where we might go when we leave our bodies. You don’t just disappear. You travel. You reality hop.
Science says that every possibility for every moment is happening all at the same time.
At that moment when things were too much we chose a different one.
We may have slivers of a memory. Maybe the beginning and the end, or you remember nothing. That black hole that you feel on the inside. It’s like amnesia. It doesn’t matter how great this new reality is on the outside, we are haunted by all the versions of ourselves that have been left behind.
Time is an illusion and you already know how to travel. So the object becomes a rescue mission. We rescue these childlike versions of you and we bring them home. Bringing them home means you come home.
Here is the secret. In those loops, trapped beside the pain, is the wisdom… the ability to laugh… the ability to dream a different dream. You still know how. Trapped there is a you that had depth… flavor. A you, before you got stretched out over numerous Realities… REALITY HOPPING.
With each integration, our life begins to round out. I think about those paper dolls that we used to make, cut in layers, they folded out to numerous versions, all connected, of the same form. Each can function in and of itself. But each one you fold back in adds depth… fullness… wholeness. In the body and in the mind. Spirit soars.
Often the childlike words that come through at these times… Oh I feel taller. Or I feel stretched out. My arms feel longer.
To a person who sees energy, people appear denser, more vibrant.
Science says that there are no more molecules in the collective dream we call reality than the images that we call imagination or the realities we experience when in meditation or dreaming?
Often in the beginning I am asked… How will I know this is real and I am not making it up? My response is “who cares?” Let’s give it a try and see if you feel different. I mean really. Like everything that I have tried in my life while searching for myself. If you feel different… if your life starts to change? Who cares?
Reality is what we choose it to be.