inspiration

276: Taking the “Ladies” Out

| Aspergers Girls

I took the ladies out today. Just the three of us. Me and my boobs.

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Can you see my reflection? 🙂

Yep. Squishing-under-the-glass-time. Also know as Mammogram. A word which makes me think of screaming for my mamma and grandma, all in one heated breath! Yelp.

I like to smile thinking of a very special machine built for men, where they can go and get their balls squished under glass and be man-handled.  Not that I don’t love and appreciate men. I only say this as I believe this idea might provide equal ground and assist bridging the barriers between the male and female gender. Plus, the image is really fun to picture in my mind.

For some reason I think this would be a good theme song for men when they go for their ball exam:

Don’t ask me to analyze. It’s the beat, I suppose. No pun intended.

The old me, unlike the new and vastly transitioned me, would FREAK out about lab tests of any type. The old me put off this particular boob-squishiness for a bit, all out of fear. It’s not so much the test itself. It doesn’t hurt at all; it’s quite fast; and the technician had warm hands.

I freak about the time in between: the waiting period. That’s what I freak out about in life in general, that unknown zone. I’m not good with unknowns. Or at least I used to be no good. Now I’m pretty dang functional, borderlining on fabulous.

Today I focused on the positive. I didn’t allow any thoughts inside that weren’t beneficial. I imagined that my boobs, my lady friends, we were going to a party. I listened to Dancing Queen by Abba all the way to the appointment. Oh, what the heck. Here is the song again.

I sang at the top of my lungs. And I didn’t care who was watching. I hoped I made them smile. Or think: What is that girl so happy about?

If they’d asked, I would have said, I’m putting my ladies on stage, out in the spotlight. I’m bringing them out to PARTY.

That was and is my attitude. I make it so. I made this a positive experience.

To keep my spirits lifted and to protect my bubble of love from outsiders who might unknowningly spiritually intrude upon my awesome zone of energetic space, I used all sorts of protective devices. I have my lovely nana’s rosary in one pocket, and in the other pocket a stone a special friend found for me on the beach. I sprayed myself with a protection spray made of various natural herbs. I even dabbed on my Tibetan Holy water, blessed by Buddhist monks. I put a drop of olive and garlic tincture on my tongue—energy vampires begone!!! I made my hair look lovely, and lips inviting. We were going out on the town, half-naked, after all.

I wore purple to represent my third-eye chakra. I grounded myself and got super comfy in my big tan poncho. And I donned my fabulous amber healing necklace. At the last minute I grabbed my lady’s out purse, the one with the glittery sequence.

I listened to my inner voice all morning. And she guided me. First suggestion: Limit the caffeine. So I ordered a decaf peppermint mocha coffee and water for hydration. I forgot my water, but two people, and older man and an employee, came running outside after me to give me my water. I felt special.

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I drove to my destination, taking an exit I don’t usually take, and trusting my intuition,  found a new short cut. I arrived super early, and had ample time to focus on the message on my bumper sticker

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And I rubbed the thick moss off a stoic tree and talked to him about his beauty. And then this stud muffin tree beckoned me over. I couldn’t resist him. Big HUG!

I took lots of photos, but my phone wouldn’t work. That’s okay. I did manage to capture a little detail I added to my entrance paperwork. A little extra love, never hurts.

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You are missing out on the photo of me in my gown and a great shot of the boob-crusher machine.

I talked the technicians ears off. Go figure? She had to remind me to keep my mouth still while she was clicking the device to capture the rare images of my glorious ladies. I asked her if it hurt woman with small boobs more. She kind of grinned, and said, “No, it’s just different.” I wondered for a bit, what that meant. Then wondered if she thought that I thought I had big boobs and was bragging. I almost explained, but was distracted by the way my flesh appeared all flattened and spread. I remarked about the overall comfort of the machine and the improvement in technology. And of course, I verified twice when my results would be available.

I did mention about my Aspergers and my son’s Aspergers. It’s kind of what I do.

Turns out someone she works with has a son that just got diagnosed with Aspergers. I offered out my phone number to give to her friend as a gesture of support–cause that’s kind of what I do, too.

But no! WAIT…..

My technician got a little bit happy, and instead of taking my number, she asked me to return to the dressing area and wait there. She specified, “Wait here. Get dressed, and I’ll be back.” I thought it was funny that she told me to get dressed. I wasn’t about to meet a stranger half-naked.

Minutes later, I hear two ladies outside my curtain whispering: “Do you think she is dressed, yet?” And I’m thinking, behind my curtain: This is the oddest way I’ve ever entered a room before to meet someone for the first time.

I open the curtain, swishhhh, all dressed, and feeling like I’m the wizard in the Wizard of Oz, popping out with my hand extended. We hit it off, the kind lady technician and me; and before we are too deep in conversation, another lady nearby pops out of her curtain, still in her gown, not yet finished dressing. She says: “Me. Me, too. Give me your number and name. My son has Aspergers.”

So there we are laughing and talking in the middle of the mammogram dressing room, so much so that we had to hush our giggles. I even took their photo, with the one still in her gown! It was for my blog, I said. My Aspergers itself pretty much giving me the liberty to do and say anything, so I said teasingly to myself.

I left just so very happy and pleased.

My only intention entering that radiology department today was to make connections, to brighten someone’s day, and to make a difference. That’s what me and my ladies set out to do. All dolled up and out on the town, we just wanted to touch someone with our love.

~~~~~~~~

^the song my grandpa’s spirit sang for two days to the seer, until he met with me, and figured out the message was for me. See Yesterday’s post if you are confused. Or take a nap. Or just nod like you understand, like I frequently do when others are talking and I haven’t got a clue.^

Now I’m going to listen to this song over and over. Me and my ladies, we feel like a good cry:

….. To make you feel my love. Hopeless romantic at heart.

275: The Stepping Stones to Glory

| Aspergers Girls
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From Twin Flame on Facebook

I was prepared for this time.

I was prepared by prophecy and my angels.

Fifteen years ago, when I was in my late-twenties, I heard my angels; they told me: “You are going to write your story. You are going to write to heal others and yourself. But it won’t be for a long time. You still have a lot to go through. You will not use your real name and you will not make money. This is your gift.”

A year before that, a seer  told me: “The best part of your life will begin in your early forties, when half of your life is over. Until then your life will be very hard. Your life career will change, and I see you in front of many people teaching and touching people all over the world.”

Eight years ago, during a powerful vision, I was told to write my story to heal others and to heal myself. I was told I would not be writing for profit. That I was not to make money or this would take away from the healing. I was told to start writing. I fell asleep and dreamt I was a giant oak tree, and people were gathered around me in unity celebrating and crying. They were healing through me, through my journey. When I opened my Bible, after I woke up, the Book fell open to the passage of the tree on the hill and the prophet. I began writing that day.

Seven years ago, a seer told me: “Everyday You Write the Book, the spirit of your grandfather is here singing this song. You will write and your words will reach people in a profound way, and you will bring healing to the world. It will touch people in a way you never imagined.”

Two years ago people began to remark on the healing energy surrounding me and of my “glow.”

Last year, a seer told me: “You are going to write. You are going to teach. You are going to reach people, and help them to heal.”

Having been told in several ways my destiny, there was definitely many times I felt inadequate, and many other times I felt I was insane.

There were times I pleaded to God to make my passion to heal the world stop.

Times I pleaded not to see and know so much.

I wanted a normal life.

I wanted the simple.

Still, after the vision of the oak tree, I spent everyday for a year, (except one day), writing. The end result was a release of so much negative energy and past wounds that I sank into a deep depression.

I cursed the heavens for what they had ‘made’ me do, and for the resulting failures. My writing wasn’t up to par. My skills were mediocre at best. After a year of tears and sweat, there was still so much more work to do.

I took a year off. Not planning to write ever again. The prophesies and my angels were clearly mistaken, and I was surely crazy.

The third year I was called again, and spent months redrafting my first writings. Still no luck. No one would look at my work. No publisher, at least.

But still this longing. I was supposed to write. I had to write. The second draft was not one of sorrow, but one of rage. I was so angry at my mother and for my past. I spent months in isolation and pushing others away.

I rested, almost another year, before writing again. The third draft was magic. My heart sang. The anger and sorrow released. And there was a lovely healing rhythm and love to my writing. The third draft was of forgiveness. By the end, when my manuscript was done, a large part of my past was healed.

Still no audience, though. No way to share my works.

I let it go. I’d done all I could. A part of me gave up. A part of me thought everything was just a coincidence, and that I only heard my angels to make myself feel special. I cried over the loss of my calling. And I mourned a part of me. Primarily my ego.

It wasn’t until this year that I began to share some of those writings and much new writing through this blog..

I hadn’t realized that just like my grandfather had sung those many years back: Everyday she writes the book.

I had absolutely no idea I would be writing for an audience any larger than a handful of people. Mostly, I wrote for me. I wasn’t intending to heal or help anyone, but myself. I’d let go completely of my calling, at least in regards to healing others through writing.

Slowly, through the months, I began to see that what I had been told all along was coming to fruition—the reaching others around the world, the different name, the no need or desire for profit.

The last seer I saw, a little over a year ago, she said I had the gift of creating a safe haven for people. I was a guardian of sorts. I didn’t understand then.

Remarkably, in the last months, through this blog, I have healed more than I ever thought imaginable. Not just at a physical level, but at a spiritual level, and even at a cellular place.

My husband and I both agree that the light in me has returned, a light I think I lost about the age of thirteen, when the fear of what life entailed set in.

Age Thirteen Me 8th grade

At times, I truly feel like I went away for a couple decades, just slipped out because life was too much. I don’t know who took my place, but it wasn’t me. I look back at this woman I was, and I don’t recognize her. I truly don’t. I love her. I know she was in essence a part of me. But she wasn’t me.

This is Eleven Years ago. My son with ASD and Me 399296_4993278079825_2087537885_n

I know the light returned because despite the trials of my life, I never gave up hope. I never let the world destroy my heart. I never stopped loving. I never stopped believing I could make a difference. Even when I wanted to die, my angels led me forward by reminding me to: Think of the Children. I know that in addition to my three sons (all birthed on a Sunday) that they meant the children of the world.

I’ve known since I was a very young child I would be called to be a healer. Probably at the age of four, when I stopped eating lamb as I didn’t have the heart for it. Probably again when I was nine, and I hid in the bushes weeping as I couldn’t comprehend the vastness of the universe and the depths of human suffering. Probably too, when as a child I would sit with people in convalescent homes by myself, just so I could be near the lonely at heart.  I knew I was a healer when I became a teacher, and later when I served as an advocate for children with special needs. I knew too, when I began to write.

What I didn’t know is the profound effect the healing would have on my own life and journey. I didn’t know how deeply I would be blessed.

Today I woke up frightened. I felt like I regressed. I began to cry. The fear was back. I couldn’t see a way out.

All about me the walls closed in. I became immobile, unable to do anything but feel and respond to the fear. My body shut down. I had pain everywhere. I was taking on the world, taking on the fear, taking on the dark.

I couldn’t stop.

I was brought back to a place I sat months ago. To a place I don’t wish to return.

But this time something was different. I had another me. A stronger me. And she was there holding me and cheering me on.

She shook me out of my place. She made me reach out. She made my light shine. She led me back to the amazing place I created on a social network site, filled with the most beautiful, caring of souls.

A safe place.

And I reached out.

I wrote: Please send me positive vibes….not doing well today physically. Frustrated. Thanks so very much. xoxoxo Brain fog, too. ♄ love to you all.

Within moment, before me, people reached out in all forms and ways from all over the world.

I received messages of:

Hearts

Wind from the Valley

Positive Vibes

Positive Energy

Hugs

Music

Lots of Love

Sorry you are having a rough time

Looking North

Much love Sweetheart

Big Bear Hugs

Loving healing bubbles of light

Dark Chocolate

Smiley Faces

Mashed Potato

Hope

Within a few minutes my pain dissipated, my fear decreased ten-fold, and I was able to breathe again. I was able to live again, and to find myself.

I was only lost for a moment, just long enough to be reminded that I am never ever going to be alone again.

Just long enough to know that I have created through vulnerability, honest, and pureness of heart the most wonderful place that draws to it the most wonderfulest of souls.

If ever there was to be a people I’d want to cherish, it would be these people. For they face challenges upon challenge. They face ridicule, displacement, misery, isolation, worry, dread, and pain on a daily basis. Their days are never easy. Their minds always searching.

And still they shine; they shine like no others, giving and loving unconditionally.

They have freed me. As have the people who read my words. And the people who write to me. The people who hold me in love and in thought. The people who thank me. They have freed me. You have freed me.

If there is one thing I could tell you, I would say this: Be you. Be the best you that you can be. Shine your light so brightly that your own soul sings out in celebration. And then watch how the light follows you, how the world unfolds, how your richest and purest dreams become the steppingstones to glory.

Thank you from every part of me. Thank you.

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Me today.

262: Healing: Falsehoods and Rotten Apples

| Aspergers Girls

Sometimes I download information.

The following message came to me yesterday afternoon in the form of a vision during a James Bond action movie at the local theater. Not the best time, I say while laughing. Nonetheless, I took in as much as possible. I believe I do not do the visions justice as they come through a channel I cannot duplicate with words.

Whether this  message breathes from a corner of my mind, the collective unconscious, my angels, or other, I make no claim; I only share what I see. I found this fascinating myself, and the process has freed up much stagnant energy in me.

Interestingly enough, I have processed through many relationships and “gunk” these past couple weeks at high intensity, and this processing has freed up much space inside of me.

The more I process, the more rapidly information collects within me, and the more I process out. This current post led to a deep philosophical discussion between my husband and myself, which inevitably led to more healing and recognition.

I currently like how things are rolling; though painfully gut-wrenching in experience at moments, the joy I feel is equal in measure. Thank you for being part of this journey. I count you as a true blessing.

In addition, I would like to share, that after writing post 261, I was able to release a lot of frustration and lost hope, and see and hold the individual mentioned in the post with more love and forgiveness. So something is working; I’d rather not dwell on the source of my continuing emotional and physical healing, but rather embrace the occurrence and give thanks.

I’d thought about deleting post 261, as my nature is not to spew harmful intention or words of any sort, and I know the vibration of the words are not of my typical writing. Yet, I chose to keep the post, as I am part of the human condition that endures times of deep suffering and doubt, and don’t want to present myself without flaws and confusion at time. Again, I chuckle, as this whole blog seems to be one big blemish exposed to the world. In peace ~ Sam

Falsehoods and Truth

Some say I am crazy, a magical thinker, a dreamer, a pretender, someone to avoid and beware.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am an attention-seeker, self-centered, someone with too much inside my own head, someone to correct and humble.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am fooling myself, I have created this calling, I am trying too hard, someone who lacked love in youth trying to compensate through sacrifice.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I should paint these pages with images and quotes of their prophet, savior, or deity, that I am someone misguided, misinformed, not awaken.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am ugly, big-nosed, big-eared, and old, someone to be fixed, repaired, or enhanced.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am an example, living truth of light and goodness, someone to be adored, someone to aspire to be.

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am loving and sweet and kind, and adorable, someone to cherish, and hold, and uplift

This is a falsehood.

Some say I am wise, beyond my years, selfless, giving, someone who can prophesize and help others.

This is a falsehood.

For when I accept one truth, I must too accept the rest.

I cannot pick what I choose from the collection of illusions and discard the rest. The rest remain.

When I accept others’ perceptions of me that I deem beneficial, then I must also accept others’ perceptions of me that I deem non-beneficial.

I do not have the power within me to decipher others’ views and decide which are real and which are false.

I do not have the pride in me to take what I value as uplifting, and ignore the rest.

In truth, every word whispered is alive, and in so being a truth of its own form.

In truth, every thought born is alive, and in so being a truth of its own form.

I have not the capacity, nor want, to siphon through a multitude of endless words and thoughts focused upon me to decide which is real and which is fantasy—which is accurate and which is false as applies to my worth and identity.

All are false and all are true.

All are a falsehood, and in being so all are a truth.

They speak of the illusion I am.

They speak of the mystery that cloaks my true self.

That beneath these layers of illusion of word and thought, at my core is where I breathe.

I can only be sensed in silence, at another’s very soul.

And there, I rest, love upon love, the essence of another.

And so, today, as every day forward, I recognize the falsehoods as truth unfolded as illusion.

I recognize every thought of judgment I too hold, every evaluation my mind makes from habit and survival, is mere illusion.

That as I am love: As are you.

And I release the demands I have placed upon your soul to form you into something other than love.

I release the need to lessen you, to build me.

I release the need to build you to make my reflection brighter.

I release, and rerelease, over and over, with the still voice of love whispering: Illusion.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Apple Tree

There grows an apple tree, in the valley, upon a hill, and there the people gather, one by one; they collect the apples green and ripe, still hanging from the tree, or nearly fallen; if still good, even a semblance of good, they gather

In other ways and times and places the apples appear golden, red, or mixed between; still they are gathered in the same manner, as people set about to gather what is deemed salvageable and decent.

Yet, on the ground remains the rejected, the left, the abandoned, stepped on and forgotten. Some overlooked, some lifted and dropped, some bitten into and spit out with distaste.

And too, up above, on the branches once full, remain the other fruit, the ones marked by time, or insect, or bite of animal friend. Those as well remain, slipped through fingers and not taken from where they live.

The people, they take the apples, and they create, they divulge, they slice and cook, they dice and dunk, they mix and drink. The apples chosen are greeted mostly with delight. Fed upon. Eaten to the very core. Tossed out when no longer needed. Or perhaps set in bin or yard to decompose into ground. Still they are used. They are gathered. They are wanted.

People do the same with words. People stand outside the tree of words and watch with wonder. They have an ache and need to feed upon the words. To digest the words. To take the words. They stand outside the tree and pick what they want to keep, and pass by what they deem distasteful, rotten, or flawed. They avoid the words of bruises and blemishes. They step upon the words of rotten worms.

What people forget is that the words left, like apples, to fall or stay resting upon the ground, broken and forgotten, do not weep. They rejoice. For they are the nurturers of the earth; the chosen ones to feed the soil and meek and tiny animals of the earth. They are the source of newness, rebirth, delight, and new blossoms of spring. They are the deep seeds that rest in the cold and darkness alone to begin again in light or to be taken away to distant land, by wing of flight or animal travels.

When you gather your words. When you collect your words, to signify who you are as a person, who you are as a soul, you cannot just pick and choose the very best apples. You cannot say: This is me, because she says so or he says so. You cannot just be the desirable apples. You are as one with nature. You, too, are the apple on the ground, stomped on and forgotten, bleed out to the earth to be reborn. You too are the distasteful and unwanted. If you are to collect the highest brightest apples, you must also recognize the fallen and forgotten apples. They are all aspects of yourself. Each and everyone. None greater or lesser. All serving purpose and truth.  You are a rotten apple. You feed the earth.

Thoughts on Healers/Leaders

  1. He or she recognizes life is ever-changing, that nothing stays the same, and thusly no list of a true leader can ever exist; that to scribe a list, to produce a list, in actuality goes against their belief system. A belief system that in and of itself shifts based on the release of attachment and widening of awakening.
  2. He or she prays or meditates or visualizes or simply thinks without thinking the potentiality and path of the higher good for all beings, whether this affects his or her current state of serenity.
  3. He or she will recognize a truth that vibrates from the core level of a person. A truth that is sometimes based on fear and false messages to self. He or she will recognize his or her own vibrational level and inner core truth, and help lift the vibration of the seeker to an optimal level through seeing, words, or simply holding the person in thought or light.
  4. He or she will sense the presence of a vibrational force in and throughout the world, in objects, thoughts, and words, as well as what is deemed living and/or breathing. He or she will have a reverence for all thing and people, and strive for unconditional love and acceptance.
  5. He or she will question both his or her actions and choice, until a time comes when action and choice moves freely in open form, embracing and loving without thought or intention.
  6. He or she will accept his or her truth as passing and pliable, easily shifted and reformed. Nothing is deemed stagnant or unmoving, even stagnation in and of itself is seen as a powerful energy, as are all things when seen in particular light.
  7. He or she will have released most, if not all, attachments and will for material gain and recognition, and hold instead the good of all as aspiration and goal. Such goals in and of themselves are offered as release, as well, as attachment to goal is too attachment in form.
  8. He or she will not see things in degrees or categories of right and wrong, or good and bad; instead the meeting point between to concepts deemed opposite shall be sensed as a vast expansive universe onto itself, incapable of comprehension or refinement. In sensing such a vast endless cavern separating two extremes, he or she will thusly understand the varying degrees of separateness of right and wrong are impossible to pinpoint, for there is no place to place a pin in an ever-expanding universe.
  9. He or she will look upon others with kindness reflected in manner, breath, presence, and perception. They will radiate light and love, and be understood as one who heals from near or far.

10. He or she will create a climate for healing through words or thoughts, providing shelter for the weary and searching without pride or condensation, see him or herself as equal, a soldier too, to self and ego, and wanderer indeed, ever-moving and journeying through tides and truths.

Yes..all these messages I heard/saw/sensed/felt/experienced during the first scenes of high-speed car chases and train escapes. Isn’t life grand!

And life isn’t all seriousness and such….sometimes it’s about finding the perfect little red dress for an upcoming event…or almost perfect! Still dress hunting….

258: Choose Beauty

| Aspergers Girls

I process in many ways. One of the ways is through playing songs over and over, and feeling a full bowl of emotions. Sometimes a toilet bowl full of emotions. This morning I played this song over and over and had a good cry.

I am realizing I don’t know what it is to feel love from someone. I cannot feel a compliment. I cannot feel positive words. I have realized this recently because of all the beautiful words people have written about me. I have tried to go back to this link of a lovely lady’s blog and reread what she wrote about me in order to feel her words. I cannot feel her words for me.  Though I believe she speaks from spirit and truth, I cannot feel her words.

However, I can feel when others have non-beneficial thoughts about me. For some reason, those type of thoughts stick to me like Velcro, and I carry the echo for years. But when it comes to love, I cannot feel it from most people. I cannot feel it from my children, from my husband, from most of my dear, dear friends that I adore.

A commenter can write I am the light, and I do not feel it. I’ve tried to process this logically. Perhaps it was from some of the abuse/neglect of my earlier years, but that doesn’t seem to be it. I am grown now, inside and out. I do love and adore myself; I am even starting to see how kind and lovely I am on the outside. I’m actually quite smitten with my beauty and how I project goodness.

So maybe I am taking in the words, only at a deep, deep level, like at the center of an onion or of a miniature earth. And then the words of love are pushing outward from the deep insides towards the outer layers. That makes sense. Like I energetically store the love at the core of me and then the power of love is projected outward; only the emotion of love when entering bypasses my mind and my conscious awareness.

I am liken to a vessel, a collector of love. Only the “negative” thoughts somehow get stuck in my filtering system and sit there in stagnant water for years until I push them out. I don’t know why the beneficial thoughts don’t stick there. It is as if I lack pride. It is as if I lack the ability genetically or at a soul-level to take in what others’ perceive me as, unless the perception is perceived to be hurtful.

I am realizing that I change in appearance based on my mood. I can see this in my photos. As if the inside of me changes the outside of me. I am realizing that certain people bring out the angelic part of me—the part of me I consider pure, untouched, and flowing with unconditional love. I feel I change internally and externally based on whom I am with. When a person brings out the parts of me that are more of my shadow side, such as anger, frustration, and apathy, I don’t want to be around them. But I now understand these people are here to show me my shadow side and work through this. And in actuality, it is my perception about them that makes me choose to feel the way I do.

I am realizing that there are certain people who bring out what might be considered the very best of me. I can see myself in them, and them in me. With them I shine so brightly I feel I am drunk with happiness.

I would like to find balance. I would like to feel the same joyous light within my heart with everyone, and realize at a spirit level that they do not control or modify my inner light; I do.

When I think: “I do not want to be with him or her because he/she brings out the worst in me,” I want to replace that with: “I am allowing this person to bring out the worst part of me. For now I choose the light of me. I reflect only goodness. I am a mirror to their beautiful soul. All that I judge unjust or wrong about them is merely an illusion. I am no longer a victim to illusion. I am light. They are light. And we are one.”

This is what I want to say. This is what I choose to believe.

I want to be a person who can sit with anyone and be at peace. I want to use the gift God has given me of feeling others’ energy, and instead of evaluating and judging that energy, I would like to recognize the energy and continue to vibrate at a high-level of love.

Instead of wanting to fix or change said person, or run away, I want to be untouched, unchanged.

In truth all people who bring energy to me in form of thoughts, words, and actions are only a mirror to me.

I am recognizing that it is not me looking at them and evaluating what they need to change in order to heal and be a beneficial light. It is them, coming to me, to reflect back what is still in need of change and growth within me. Not that I am flawed or unworthy, only that I have sections of my soul that are in need of reflection and further healing.

When a person writes words that make me feel something at a physical level that is unpleasant, perhaps a slight punch to the stomach or a rerun of a negative vibration knocking on my mind’s door, I can choose to stand back as an observer and feel that feeling in the whole of me. I can question without questioning, and listen without listening, and establish a knowing of what this person is teaching me.

If I label one “narcissistic” or “self-centered” based on the energy he or she is projecting, I can release this judgment without judging myself, and recognize if one is this way, then thusly am I.

I can then recognize what is inside myself that I believe to be narcissistic or self-centered; I can recognize that as my perception of self is incorrect, thusly is my perception of the outer reflection in form of human facing me.

In truth, I can hold us both in light, and understand that as I see another, is actually how I still see myself.

Once I recognize I am total beauty, then I shall recognize the other is total beauty, as well. And the reverse is true, and endless cycle, like a ripple made upon a lake, we dance. Thusly, what I still see in another is what I still choose to see within myself.

Therefore, if a person says to me words that cause me to feel that she is self-centered, I can immediately and with freedom, without self-punishment, say onto myself: “What is inside of me that I still choose to believe is self-centered?” I can then replace the judgment with a few words, such as: “I am beauty. I am light.” And thusly make it so.

I can choose not to collect the energy-pieces of judgment placed upon me.

In choosing to accept this illusion of judgment as part of my reality, when someone judges me, I can bring up the same high vibration of love and recognize that that person chooses to see in me what still needs to be healed within his or her own being, be this physical, emotional, logical, or spiritual.

Therefore, when I recognize someone is placing the label of prideful upon my soul’s energy field, I may pull up the same few words: I am beauty. I am light. And thusly make it so.

One does not work without the other. I cannot choose to think that because someone is judging me then that someone has a fractured part he or she needs to recognize and heal, unless I do the exact same to my own being, when I choose to judge another.

This is where some souls go off-balance, where the energy is not evenly exchanged.

Where there is not yin and yang, equal giving and taking, then the energy level remains off balanced.

I have before said to myself that I do not accept someone’s judgment of me as truth, but then I went on to criticize them, or reason why they were wrong and how I was right. This method is logical and from a low-vibrational place and shall never work.

What needs to be done, if one is to reach a state of peace, something in which each human aspires, whether he or she recognizes this or not, is to maintain a balance in release. Thusly, recognize what is in one is in another. In so doing, in so reflecting the truth upon one another, the earth is healed.

This came to me quickly, as I was concluding this post:

“It is the misers who keep the truth of the world into themselves, believing they are the righteous and all else need to be as them to be in light who are the falsest ones of the light. It is the righteous that need to fall down on bended knee and forgive themselves, and take heed in the word of the light. It is the righteous who shall fall and tumble and scrape the knee of inner spirit time and time again in an endless cycle of turmoil, ricocheting back and forth between two walls of good enough, perhaps superior, and wretchedly ugly. The meek shall inherit the earth with their self-proclaimed goodness, as they shall recognize the beauty within, the beauty without and shine this light bright upon the world. It is no sin, if sin is the word used to describe misery, to proclaim you are beauty as you see the beauty of you reflected in another. It is sin to withhold this thought and beat upon the wall of your spirit with hammer and nail of spite and not enough. To be truly joyous announce to the world your beauty, your love, your joy, and stop choosing to hide behind falsehoods of gratitude. When all about you there are answers; seek now what you believe to be true; seek what you know to be true. That you are everlasting grace, truth, and beauty.”

Day 224: The Screaming World

| Aspergers Girls

The Screaming World

The lady with the neckbrace, a result of some accident I’m guessing, stood at the corner of the sidewalk, screaming. Her partner, joined in, only more light-heartedly.

“Oh, good for you! Just drive through! Did you not see my brace? What the fu** is wrong with you?” the lady shouted. She looked like an Italian in the middle of a full-blown rage, the way her arms were tackling the sky and her body enveloped in emotion, only she was very white and freckle-covered, and likely not European at all.

Yes, I noticed a lot in a few seconds. I tend to—to take in a whole movie in a matter of no time at all. That’s me. And I guess that’s what made the occurrence that much more troubling.

I’ve been processing this scene of the outraged, neck-braced caucasian in my mind for three days now, and have come to the conclusion of why the situation bothered me so. It comes down to fear, and how, as a result of fear, humans often assume the worst about other people.

In terms of fearing others, most people with Aspergers are over-trusting, at least for the start of their life; until they are more than likely hurt by not one but a multitude of people; primarily because others exhibit actions and behaviors the person on the ASD spectrum did not count on, and perhaps wasn’t able to understand. However, for the most part, individuals with Aspergers start out very trusting; and even after continual “let downs” and hurts, they tend to remain trusting, despite their best efforts to emulate the anti-trust phenomenon all around them.

I used to think I lacked an ability to adjust and adapt to the surrounding societal roles and values of fearing others. Now I believe the attribute to over-trust is a spirit-born gift and an ability to transform our world.

Throughout my life, I’ve been warned by various people not to over trust, not to be naive, not to expect that another will be there for me. And especially not to expose myself. I was taught through experience, and from others, that if I was myself I would be rejected, shunned, compartmentalized and ostracized. I am still warned, that if I over-share, people will have more ammunition to use against me. In essence, I have been taught, through experience, example, and through others’ cautionary words, to not trust and to not be myself.

What a terrible way to live: to carry within my being a perpetual fear of being me because I might be hurt.

But that is my world at this instant.

Despite the warnings and potentially looming dangers, I have made the conscious decision to be me.

I know enough to understand that no matter the preparation and shielding, the pretending and hiding, that ultimately people cannot escape fear; and that the fear does not reside outside in the scary world, but inside in the choice to not be real, and the fallout of non-genuineness that causes people to lose touch with who they are.

In looking at fear-based living, what is troubling, beyond the potential loss of self-understanding and authenticity, is the way society perpetuates fear.

Today, I readily view the fear indoctrination through our media, big business, and government. Although, with the sharing of beds, big business, media, and government, are potentially all one ancestral family.

Presently fear is perpetuated through the bombardment of looming cancer. Even at the amusement park, I went to yesterday, there was a huge  pink ribbon symbolising breast cancer awareness painted on the concrete. And the whole ride was painted pink. When I shop, I am asked to support cancer research. When I drive down the freeway, I see billboards about sickness and cancer. When I turn on the radio, television, or read a magazine, I view cancer, cancer, cancer.

My world is painted with the fear of cancer. It’s not that I am against awareness or finding a cure; it’s that I am against fear. Or not even against it, but tired of fear being put on a throne set upon a pedestal. Tired of fear being the foundation of my society.

Fear has been indoctrinated into my mind since I was born. American born and bred, I arrived fresh and innocent into a world that had for over a decade already been pushing fear into society to encourage others to buy, buy, buy, to stimulate the economic market. Then it was only television that reminded my generation and the ones before and after me to buy to subside fear. Now everything is media. I can’t go anywhere, beyond the beauty and grace of the forest, without the fear-factor.

And cancer research and awareness are not the answers, nor the solutions to our problems. The problem is literally the problems—the view and bombardment set upon us that everything is a problem.

And in considering these presented problems, we already have solutions, solutions echoed by the Native Americans long before us. Cancer is not the disease and enemy. Cancer is merely a result of our overly polluted environment: the toxins in our food, water, air, and prescription drugs. The disconnection and disrespect for our environment and nature. The disconnection from ourselves.

Food has become our poison. Much of what is added to our processed foods, in the form of corn syrup, in mutated form, is actually classified by the companies themselves as pesticide. It seems rather simple to me, a first step in fighting cancer and illness, would be to stop selling pesticides disguised as food.

Also, in America, it is fact that economically deprived neighborhoods don’t even have grocery stores. There are no opportunities to buy fruits and vegetables. Why? Because grocery store establishments have deemed the low-income areas non-profitable and have as a result pulled out of those neighborhoods. Cancer, diabetes, and obesity are on the rise everywhere, but particularly in the areas where the people are under-educated and living at poverty-level. In these neighborhoods, the giant fast food industries move in to make up for the lacking. So our young generation is being fast-food fed on mutated, poor grade meat and poultry, loaded with chemicals and over treated in fat and oils, and are without the money to travel to find a store with real food, and without the education or mind-energy fueled by nutrients to know better. Suddenly a corn-fed, antibiotic, disease-ridden, slaughtered mixture of multiple cows added with toxins, additives, overly processed oils, and fat, has become the staple meal of the poor. Suddenly an apple is deemed not as nutritious as poison. Or not so suddenly, in actuality, I suppose.

So what does this have to do with trusting my fellow human or the lady on the street screaming?

First off, the lady was yelling because there was a misinterpretation. I thought she wanted me to drive through the crosswalk, that she wasn’t ready to cross the street. She thought I was going to wait. And then she went further to think that my intention was to be inconsiderate and down right rude. She chose to see the worst in me, to believe I didn’t care about her, that I wasn’t willing to bother to stop. She chose not to trust me.

And that bothers me, because the more I think about it, the more I realize, as a collective we don’t trust. We have been raised a fear-based, paranoid society, made to fret over each moment of our day, to wonder what traumatic event will befall us, and to spend our last dime in creating a reality around us of distractions and comforts in hopes of diminishing our fear. We carry an emptiness around that we believe at moments can be filled with food or material goods. We believe solutions are found in a pill, not in nature. We believe the only way out of turmoil is through polluting our environment more through consumerism and over spending. We carry an urgency for a way out and not a way in.

We have been taught to live a life escaping death, escaping loneliness, and avoiding ugliness.

We have been taught that we are dying, we are unworthy, and that we are ugly.

We have been taught we are wrong and in need of fixing.

We have been taught to give of ourselves completely in the wealth of our minds, our bodies, our spirit, and currency, in order to be fixed.

We are trapped in a cycle of fear feeding fear, trying to fix that which was never broken with placebos that only injure at every level.

We are ready to return to the spirit, who knows awareness without fear.

We are ready to stop fighting and fearing and to become aware that we no longer need to build our world on a foundation of fear.

Because despite all of this indoctrinated fear, this misshapen world that has been painted onto our souls, some of us still carry hope. Some of us still trust. Some of us are not afraid to be our true selves, to shine and be authentic no matter the imaginary threat.

Despite the lies we  have been told, the trickery, the sadness, and devastation, we can choose to not fear, to see the light in people. We can continue to carry hope wherever we travel. We have the spirit-given eyes to see through the illusions, to know that this reality is temporary, that we are in transition, and that together we can transform our reality into a place of soul awareness.

This fear can be leached out and drained away, the more we pour in love and truth.

We must see the lady on the street screaming as pure beauty in disguise.  An instigator of change. A symbol of our screaming world. An obvious sign that the world is not happy and not trusting.

We can choose to look at the person screaming out as the innocent submerged in the sea of sadness perpetuated by the ongoing waves of fear and mistrust.

We can bring her out with a gentle hand to the shore and let her shine.

But first we must crawl out of submersion ourselves and stand in the light of authentic being.