Another Book Topic

Last night’s meditation led me on another interesting journey … as happens often. I was left feeling I need to put these meditation-inspired ramblings into a book and call it “Conversations within Myself.” (The writing muse has me by the throat. All I want to do is write!)

These meditations offer insight into life. I’m shown different sides of situations while allowing my mind to develop, transform, solidify, question preconceived beliefs, or assimilate some form of teaching. I think about what I think about and how I think about it. (OK, I’ll admit to overthinking ... or maybe I’m just not afraid to admit.)

Words and thoughts constantly run through my mind. I’m always thinking, from the moment I wake in the morning until I fall asleep at night. (Sometimes when I wake in the night, too.) Often, it’s just daydreaming drivel, but other times, a topic grabs hold of me and I’m taken on an interesting journey; at times controversial and other times enlightening.

A comment gets made or I read something that sends my mind spinning off on a winding path. There’s no one true answer as the trail leads down, in, around, among, up, out. Thoughts jump one to another; sometimes not in a logical sense of order. Words gush from above, while others stir up out of my soul and heart. I never know when it will stop. Suddenly, the flow shuts off, and I feel breathless, emotionally flattened, unfinished, like there’s more, but my brain won’t take any more at this moment.

Nothing is conclusive. I’m left in wonder. But I also feel the topics that come to me need to be brought to the light. It’s not that I expect everyone to believe what I say. They don’t have to. Sometimes what I write is what others think but can’t put into words. Sometimes it’s just my ramblings.

Whatever it is, I’ve gained a little more understanding of life, and even if I’m left with more questions, there’s still a feeling of accomplishment.

Snake Oil Salesmen and Charmers

I am strong, yet I am vulnerable. When I get hurt, I run and hide. I protect the who-I-am by keeping it safe from the world. I am strong inside, but is the who-I-am too thin-skinned to let out in public? 

Last night’s reading on living authentically and wholeheartedly triggered remembrances of years ago. Wait! I’d worked on this before. What happened between then and now? When did I fall off the spiritual/self-healing path I’d been on for 20 years? Let me think… there’s a huge gap in my spiritual work between living in Barrington and in Hillsborough where I live now – the Bradford years.

Something happened in Bradford that caused me to turn away from all that I’d worked towards. I spent time last night looking back and I found it. I can’t remember the exact details, but I remember the incident and what led up to it. I remember the pain, the betrayal, and the subsequent turning away. 

People today know me as a writer, editor, photographer, and artist, but how many know I was a healer; a darn good healer? And I was working at becoming even better. A few of us were developing a healers’ group. He was a charmer and talked the good talk, but ultimately, he was a full-of-himself snake. (He was so good he even had my mother duped and she didn’t go in for any of this healing stuff!) Friendships were destroyed and the Light that we had developed between us was snuffed out.

The end result was I walked away; never read another book on healing, never talked about it, stopped playing my flutes and drums, stopped doing Tai Chi, and only did one or two massages  afterwards, eventually even giving that up. My good-sized self-help/healing library got thrown in the dumpster along with the massage oils and I sold the massage table. I turned my focus totally to my other talents. I stopped learning, stopped wanting to learn, unless it was about work.

I loved living in Bradford, but for that one incidence. I gave up on my spirituality and locked it away, hiding it, and not acknowledging it. And perhaps that was one reason why the last few years with my mom was so hard. I didn’t use my spiritualness to help me when I needed it most, when she needed me to be strong. (I’m sorry, Mom.) 

It was very hard for me to move to Hillsborough, however I have become spiritual again thanks to Annette Vogel who gave me “Wishes Fulfilled” by Dr. Wayne Dyer. I’ve never been a Dyer fan, but had to read the book because she gave it to me. 

That book… I guess you could say, woke me up again. Not that I believe everything he said (I read a book or watch a TV program and can find something that will help me… like searching through the weeds to find a rose and I certainly found plenty of roses. Then, a guy told me about Brene Brown and I got three of her books: “I Thought It Was Just Me But It Wasn’t,” “The Gifts of Imperfection,” and “Greatly Daring.” (I haven’t read the latter yet.) And Annette told me about “The Courage to be Creative” by Doreen Virtue which is an awesome book!

So now, I am back on my path and that fills me with such joy. I feel I am learning something new every day and it’s exciting.

Oh, and about snake oil salesmen and charmers? Read the headlines. Listen to the news. Commercials and ads are all snake oil salesmen. Be careful who and what you listen to and support. Be vigilant! Don’t get caught up in someone’s charisma and charm and buy into their pretty words.

As a writer and word person, I know the power of words. Do NOT go by what you are being told, but check the real facts about everyone and everything they say (or what the media says they say). Look at your politicians as people, not what’s coming out of their mouths! Will they live up to their promises or are the just selling the public? Are they parroting what someone else wrote for them? Are they selling the public what whoever paid for their campaign dictates? 

They are all snake charmers weaving their charms to hypnotize and brainwash. Or they’re creating so much nastiness which is addictive to many people. Is this really what you want imprinted in your souls?

Think about it. I’ve learned my lessons with snake oil salesmen.

Being Unlovable

I couldn’t work outside in the garden yesterday due to the rain. Sometimes Sundays tend to be my “lonely-feeling” days, especially when I’ve spent time with family or friends the day before.

Mid-afternoon I was taking a Spider Solitaire break and I started thinking about love. My last lover, a guy I dated for 22 years, never once EVER said he loved me. He was more apt to call me stupid than give me approval. Yes, I stayed with him all those years. It was a conscious choice and we did have many good times and it was with him that I got the travel bug.

After he left was when my mother started to decline and I chose to give my attention to her. It was Ma and I for the next 15 years and when we moved to Bradford, my life was also taken up by being an artist, writer, and photographer. I didn’t have time for, nor want, a lover in my life.

I can’t remember the last time anyone said, “I love you.” Oh, family does the “Love you” when saying goodbye on the phone or in emails and such, but when was the last time I felt loved, truly loved? When was the last time I felt someone really cared for me? (Yes, I have family and friends, but that’s a different kind of love.)

Does that mean I am unlovable? I stop to think about it because I never took into consideration that I am unlovable. I just kept the belief that I don’t have room for a lover in my life. But if I do think about it and I’m honest, what man would ever want to spend time with me now? I have nothing to offer and what most men want, I am unwilling to give.

So, does that mean I am unlovable? How has the past shaped who I am today? And can I say, physically and mentally shaped? Yes, this is about choices that I have made in the past 20 years.

Hmmm, this is a subject I’ll have to think more about.