spiritual

Post 248: Love

| Aspergers Girls

Love

He came at dawn’s break

With glowing light

My heart made soldier

To his delight

My fingers his minion

And beckoning call

My body his vessel

As tethered, I fall

Captured entirely

In untimely game

From the utterance only

Of one simple name

Love, how you choose

Like buttercup of land

And captain my freedom

In hourglass of sand

Unturned and still motion

Time plays without one

My world on a shelf

Until love is undone

~ Sam Craft, November 2012

Thoughts on Love

There is the love of mother to babe, sister to brother, neighbor to neighbor.

There is the love that reminds one of self, a reflection of beauty and recognition.

There is the love of accomplishing a sought after goal and reaching one’s highest potential, a satisfaction.

There is a love of enduring and suffering, and sticking things out.

There is a love of familiarity, having known each other to the point of predicting the next move, next statement, next thought.

There is a love of journeying together through trials and tribulations, and hopes and dreams, a love of endurance and strength.

There is a love of opportunity, of hope, of guessing, of wishing, a pulsating-driven love that makes one leap out of bed in hopeful expectation.

There is a love of infatuation, lust, and mingling, perhaps driven biologically or through soul, or a combination, but nonetheless hot and steamy and wanting.

There is a love unreturned that leaves one empty and doubtful.

There is love unrecognized, ungrown, unnourished, ungiven—the love of neglect and forgetfulness.

There is the love of ego-centered built only to uplift self, to praise one to feel good about another, the prospect of another’s potential temporarily filling the void of the emptied.

There is the love of uncertainty, resembling the love of obligation.

There is rule-bound love, created for conforming and people-pleasing, a mask placed on and off as needed.

There is the love of twins, separate but one, who move as mirrors as one another, and cannot help but love what is them.

There is the love born of hate, where battle was fought, enemy lost, and the tears wash out the anger to expose the commonalities of humanity.

There is a love of knowing, of caring, of wanting to fix and make better, to appease the need to reach out and help.

There is the love of smothering and clinging.

There is the love of using to gain, to hide, or move ahead.

There is the love of respect.

There is the love of awe.

There is the love of mystery, a captivating intrigue, without reason or explanation.

There is the love of company, companionship, the release of isolation.

There is love in the word alone, the vibration and energy produced in thought and sound.

There is love in the beauty of one or many, the beauty of nature, the beauty of art, creation.

There is love that is all-encompassing, beyond borders and definitions.

There is love that is far-reaching and healing.

There is love beyond measure, pure elation, recognition and union.

There is love lost.

There is love unopened.

There is love in silence and emptiness.

There is love in a touch, in a dream, in a memory.

There is love in illusion.

There is love.

I’ve been trying to understand what love means since last April. This has been a year of much transition and healing for me, and along with this healing has been the extreme necessity to understand love. This morning I awoke before dawn and was able to visualize a clear understanding of love as the word applies to my life.

I recognize now that I sense a soul print of each person when I first make contact, even if that contact is through words and not face-to-face.  This is not through any one sense, but from another sense I’ve yet to recognize or label. In some ways, the process of sensing a soul print seems to be a combination of all the senses with the addition of a knowing and feeling at a cellular, muscular, and both physical and non-physical level.

When I meet someone, the soul print is in the form of energy and makes pictures in my mind. I feel the person in different parts of my body; for example a tightening of the stomach or shoulders. With many people I feel uneasy both physically and emotionally, and I assume spirtually; with a select few I feel very safe.

For some reason, I can recognize peoples’ insecurities, fears, and misgivings readily, usually in general terms, and sometimes in specifics. I can easily sense states of unrest, panic, unease, addiction, deception, and interior motives. I can readily sense pure thought and unconditional adoration.

The person’s energy triggers memories in myself, and I can connect the energy to past experiences and past encounters.

I’ve felt these “feelings” since I can remember.

I feel energy with every word I write, think, or say. Likewise, I feel energy in other people’s words, whether it is the universal energy of the collective-thoughts of a word, or the intention behind a person’s word. Some words feel false, contrived, and unnecessary. Some words feel like trickery or falsehood. Other words feel free of clutter, clear, and pure.

I can feel a person through their words. I cannot explain it, but know it to be true.

When I worked as a spiritual counselor, I could sit with a person and tell them what I saw, how I perceived them to be energetically. I could see his or her trials and challenges, and also could see direct tools to assist in removing stagnant energy.

I don’t see things in levels, or heights, or degrees. All is equal. However, I see people stuck in a certain spot, often repeating the same patterns and lessons.

I can sense the energy of people trying to be strong and domineering, when they are actually wounded and lacking. I can sense anger and resentment, and these tend to be the most challenging senses I encounter.

How I feel upon meeting someone the first time, does not change. I know instantly if I can spend time around a person and be depleted or remained balanced. I know instantly how much I want to be with that person and if he or she is nurturing to my soul.

Why this information is important to me is because I realize now I equate love to the energy I feel from a person. I don’t feel love for a person. I feel a vibration and sense a soul print.

Where some people say love can grow with time, I do not understand this concept. I love from day one. If I feel nourished by someone’s energy, I feel an elation that would equate to falling in love.

I don’t love a select few. I love everyone. But I feel better around certain people more than others.  One could say I “love” a person based on the energetic vibration. Only vibration levels change. So that would be a false observation. I love a person’s soul print. It’s an underlying vibration that stays the same regardless of how that person feels at a given moment.

I understand now that I do not understand the mainstream’s idea of love.

Love doesn’t grow. I feel exactly the same way for a person the entire time. Their soul print doesn’t change.

At times when a person is happier or sadder, I feel these emotions, but his or her emotions do not affect how much I love or don’t love. Sometimes a person’s actions can have a rippling energy effect of joy or dread that reaches me, but the actions do not affect how much I love or don’t love. My love is not based on outside sources, something I can view externally, judge, discern, or categorize. If I love, I love.

I understand now why I can tell someone I love him or her after knowing them less than a day. And that as hard as I try to love someone more or less, I cannot.

I understand why I cannot get enough of someone whose energy is nurturing and giving and kind and centered. I see more and more how I am attracted to balanced and secure energy: people that love based on the unconditional energy-factors and not the limiting external factors.

When I love someone, I stop seeing the person in human form. Their face and body disappears. This is why it’s hard for me to remember faces, as I’m not focusing on the exterior; I am focused on the energy. When I love someone, I don’t care what they look like, how they age, or change, or are altered outside; there comes a time when I don’t see the outside at all. But there are elements of the physical I might recognize from dreams and distant memories. Something in the physical that draws me to them.

I’ve written this all out because of a driving need to understand love. But now I see the complexities are beyond my understanding entirely. So I will rest in the fact that the more I know myself, and the more I focus on being a beneficial light, absent of ill-will and judgment, that the more I will benefit love. And in this way I will grow; only to perish again with the seasons, and once again reseed, resurface, and stare in wonderment.

Post 244: This is how it goes

| Aspergers Girls

I think of blogging several times throughout my day.

I am processing much. Particularly where I’ve traveled since starting this writing journey.

I feel I’m at a crossroad, where I’ve healed enough in myself to start sharing more about my coping strategies (yay!), with less of a need to mentally and emotionally spill and reflect. I’m trusting in this process and the timing, and am excited to see what will arise.

Thank you for being here.

I am a bit behind on answering comments. I’ve been continuing to focus on balance in my life, and taking care of my needs and my family’s needs. Comments are always appreciated and read with love. Not answering every comment is growth for me. However, I do intend to go back and answer the more urgent questions.

I’ve had to release some guilt, slowly. I was reading over fifty blogs when I first started. My life was blogging for several months. Everything else took a backseat. Now that I’ve regained balance, I haven’t felt the desire to read blogs. I still love the people I connect and connected with through blogging, and hold them in thought many, many times each day. If you are one of the people who blogs and we share(d) a connection, know you still hold a HUGE place in my heart, and that I am at a new place on my path at the moment. Know you are loved and held in high regard. I have a facebook page listed atop this blog; please feel free to friend me.

I will continue to write at Everyday Asperger’s, but only when I feel called to do so, and am able to remain balanced in all aspects of my life.

I am for the most part truly, truly happy and at peace with who I am and my calling in life. I think this is reflected in my eyes and smile. I know it is reflected in my energy.

I am doing better with my health.

I have discovered coffee has giving me much more energy (who would have thought–wink-wink) and the ability to lift my mood. I read in a study (laughing to myself, as I seem to like to read studies, and know that studies are contradictory, often funded by money-hounds, and certainly ever-changing and debatable..but tossing all that aside)… I read in a study that 20% of people can cure depression through coffee; I’ve excepted (darn homophone)…I’ve accepted, I either am the 20% or I made this fact a truth in my life!

The downfall: Coffee does make me organize and reorganize and reorganize. I think I’ve cleaned and reorganized my bathroom medicine cabinet four times now. And, I tend to ramble and talk more, with caffeine. However, the substance is working wonders for my mind and pain-relief; so I’ll take a little organizing-OCD-bug.

Also, I have decided I am allergic to all earth food, beyond coffee (cream and sugar) and dark chocolate…oh and water. Because, as soon as I eat anything, I become instantly depressed, insecure, nervous, fatigued and in pain. I spend my “eatless” mornings and “eatless” afternoons very productive and content, knowing once I eat, I will likely have to rest on the couch and fight off negative thoughts and pain. (I like the word eatless, but don’t try to text the word because auto-spell-correct can see only “earless.”)

I’m back to processing what I look like. hmmmmm?

Today the following thoughts are on my mind…well at least for twenty minutes they were. I think I’ve had about forty other subjects pop up since opening this document to write….coffee again.

This is how it goes.

This is how it goes. I dream of my liver, that my liver is damaged, that I need to go to the doctor and get tests.  I wake up knowing I’m fine, but feeling the dread of upcoming tests. Someone else’s feelings are with me.

Two days later, a relative called and has to go in for liver tests.

The dream makes sense.

This is how it goes. I have a thought of giving coats to school. I have a bag of coats in my closet that are too small for my son. All day I think of whom to give the coats to. It’s like a moving picture in my mind. Whom to ask? The thought keeps circling.

Hours later, my son comes home from school with a note about families in need of clothing and other items.

The thoughts stop.

This is how it goes. I wake up at 4:45 am with thoughts and cannot get back to bed. I look in the mirror and have a bite on my cheek. My mind spins. I keep thinking of the butterfly rash that accompanies the auto-immune condition lupus. I know I do not have lupus, but I can’t stop checking my cheek in the mirror. I can only think of lupus. I can only think to check.

Soon, my good friend calls. She was up most the night. Her doctor just called to say she has lupus.

The crying starts.

This is how it goes. I wake up with dread, with unexplained fear. I am worried. Something is going to happen.

That day a friend has a breakdown. Instantly my dread is gone and I am better.

The relief comes.

This is how it goes. I haven’t been to a particular store in months; no interest, no want. A voice inside says, “Go today. Go today.” I fight the voice. The voice still comes. “Just go. Only for fifteen minutes. Just go.” I drive.

I arrive to find the dresser I’ve been visualizing in my mind for the past couple months. The exact antique dresser I’ve wanted for my room at the Goodwill for only $40. Mint condition. Lovely. The entire transaction from finding the dresser, paying for dresser, and helpers placing dresser in trunk of van takes exactly fifteen minutes.

The joy comes.

This is how it goes.

**********************************************

The past few days I’ve been analyzing actresses on television and how their hair affects the way they look. Somewhere in my head, I got stuck with the thought that if I don’t look nice in every photo I take, then I truly look like the ugliest photo.

I mean, wouldn’t it be nice to be narcissistic for one day, and believe I always look like the best photo? But NO, my little brain thinks I MUST look like the worse photo. Of course, this is the same brain, who somewhere along the road, gathered the baggage that if I don’t look beautiful with my hair unbrushed, makeup off, and in frumpy, stained clothes, then I am not naturally beautiful. The same mind that played tricks on me and told me that if I wear make up and fix my hair up and take a nice photo that that is a lie, and fake, and not the real me to begin with. So if someone gives me a compliment, while I’m fake, then the compliment is not real either! The same brain that told me all these years that when someone tells me I’m beautiful or pretty that he or she is just saying that because truthfully I’m hideous and they are trying to lift my spirits. That, in truth, the entire world is in a conspiracy to make me think I’m lovely, because in truth when they look at me they feel sorry for me. OH, MY GOSH! Growth, growth, growth.

My son took a photo of me with his new camera today. For the first time, I thought logical thoughts upon seeing a photo of myself. I heard this in my head: “Oh, I have a triple-chin because he is little and taking the photo from down low. I look different in all angles and lighting. This is not a true reflection of me.”

Much better than my standard: “Oh no! I can never leave the house again. I am a triple-chinned monster and everyone is pretending not to see it!”

Here is something I did for fun:

First photo is a few minutes before the other photo.

Between the photos, I simply put on a sweater, eye makeup, and lipstick. Hair behind ears, head tilted different direction.

I really am fascinated with how lighting, clothes, hairstyle, and makeup affects photos.

Oh…and Yes…for those of you joining, this ENTIRE blog is about my vanity and ego….giggles

Before photo. No make up.
A few minutes later.

Now, of these three photos which one is the real me?

Answer: All of them!

I am like a flower. Different in all angles, all lighting, and in each season; whether the season is a day, month, or life. God Bless all the me’s and all the you’s. xoxo ~ Sam

I almost forgot…here’s the dresser:

Post 240: The Wow Factor

| Aspergers Girls

Wow! I’ve really found myself again.

Transformations and transitions have been powerful.

I looked through some photo albums this early morning and I actually remember joy and happiness and love. I see the person I was and am. I see what a wonderful, nurturing mother I was and am. I see how beautiful I was and am.

I spent so much of my life doubting my exterior and internal beauty.

I’m realizing I am beauty.

I have energy. I’m motivated. I’m excited for life. I’m hopeful.

I recognize my challenges, but carry a hope that all will be okay.

I’m counting my blessings and recognizing what a glorious life I’ve had.

All in all, every wish I’ve had as a child has come true. And every goal I had as a young adult has been met. I know if I died today, I would be content.

I have helped people through my various vocations and writings.

I have reached out.

I have been caring and thoughtful.

I have placed others first, but also learned to pamper and love myself.

It really is quite glorious.

I’m at a time in my life where I am learning to appreciate my uniqueness and also recognize my commonalities with other people.

I am less rigid and structured, more able to relax and understand my thought processes. More able to accept who I am and what I am.

I am even able to look in the mirror and like what I see.

So much growth.

I am very pleased

view from my home in the early mornings

I’ve spent the last two weeks reawakening and cleansing the energy in my house through the practice of feng shui. And I’ve reveled in the process, spending some nine to ten-hours straight some days working on the house. (Can you say “fixation” ?) The inspiration and motivation to clean and organize my home came after more than five weeks of being couch-bound and sick from a series of infections, the longest standing being viral bronchitis.

Symbolically and energetically, while facing physical health challenges, I cleared out much stagnant energy within my body through my constant coughing and removal of chunks of phlegm. (Pardon that visual image.)

Now that my interior being has had a good scrub through, I am setting about to clear out the gunk from the exterior of my life.

Everyday I cleanse my home, I feel lighter and happier in spirit. I have more clarity than I have experienced in years and have been welcoming many gifts through this energetic cleansing process.

I feel reconnected to a part of me I haven’t felt in years. I am reawakened myself in my ability to recognize the effective and beneficial parent and homemaker, friend, and spirit I am.

*as a side note, both days I cleaned my study, the feng shui area for prosperity and money, I was rewarded within hours with unexpected monetary awards.

Observations:

Removal of dog’s crate, his winter jacket, and blanket from the house. (Scooby passed away in February, shortly after starting this blog.)

Release of grief and sadness.

Welcoming of acceptance, love, and peace.

Bagged and boxed up items I’ve been saving for years, incase I ever need them.

Release of thoughts of scarcity and not enough.

Welcoming of trust and abundance.

Removed dirty plunger, stagnant water, scissors, dirt and debris, and clutter from heart-center of house in utility room.

Release of death, destruction, and stagnant emotion.

Welcoming of clarity, newness, and beneficial flow of energy.

Balanced water elements of bathrooms with earth elements such as floral design, stripes, blue and green, and pottery.

Release of flood of emotions and drowning in worries.

Welcoming of nurturing, calmness, and grounding.

Bedroom cleaned and stripped of clutter and most décor.

Release of cluttered mind and unrest.

Welcoming of deep breaths, deep relaxation, and sanctuary.

Children’s bedrooms cleaned and unneeded items given away.

Release of attachment to greed, distraction, and confusion.

Welcoming of having enough, freedom to move and create, and satisfaction in simplicity.

Underneath kitchen sink cleaned of scum and cleaning supplies removed and placed elsewhere.

Release of need to hide the whole of me. Release of burden of poisonous thoughts.

Welcoming of safety, love of self, and emptying of garbage.

Storage closets organized and cleaned out.

Release of past regrets and the need to hold on to the past. Release of cluttered emotions.

Welcoming of order, structure, and ease.

Front entry cleaned and organized.

Release of fear of people and rejection.

Welcoming of friendship and happiness.

Expired supplements and medications discarded.

Release of pain and suffering.

Welcoming of health and wealth of energy.

Cooking pots and pans, canned and boxed food organized.

Release of dread and confusion.

Welcoming of nutrition, clarity, and fortification.

Décor and gifts I kept out of guilt.

Release of pressure to please, fear of hurting others, and retention of unhealthy relationships.

Welcoming of beauty, joy, and pleasure.

Mementos taken off shelves and out of closet, and then boxed.

Release of fear of losing past happiness and hope.

Welcoming of present happiness and merriment.

Sorting through photo albums and photos.

Removal of past untruths.

Welcoming the beauty I was and am. Welcoming the wonderful memories of the family I have helped lift and raise.

Post 238: Seeing the Future

| Aspergers Girls


I believe in precognition and seeing the future. I believe in knowing people from another time or place. I’ve had dreams since I was a young girl of future events. When I was a child, I would predict the death of my pets. Later, I would foresee car accidents. As an adult, friends would appear in my dreams and tell me about what was happening in their lives. Months before I knew my family and I were moving to Washington State, I saw our future home, our future town, our future landlords, and a future car accident, in a dream.

In my early forties, when job circumstances altered for my husband, I utilized the change of employment tide to encourage my husband to search beyond California for work. For years, I’d felt called to move up north to Oregon or Washington. I longed for the clean air, the thick forests of trees, and to be near water.

A week into our job search, my husband was contacted by an old colleague via email. The colleague and my husband hadn’t spoken in years, and she did not know my husband was job searching. At this exact time of our search, she happened to email a job possibility in Washington State.  As it turned out the job did not pan out. However, a week later, once again the same colleague emailed with another job.

This time, after extensive interviewing, my husband was offered a job in Washington.

Months before we ever started considering the real possibility of moving out-of-state, I had dreamt of our soon-to-be home in Washington.

I remember because I awoke with a feeling of knowing after the dream and had later phoned my mother to tell her the details of the dream.

I had dreamt of a house set up on a hill with many large windows overlooking a beautiful body of water. A woman and her husband, both dressed in Hawaiian attire, had greeted us at the door of the home. The woman had shown me around the house, as if I was to live there. She directed me to look over the water and said: “This will be a place of healing for you.”

Then she pointed to walking trails and a local farmers market. I remember thinking how odd to have a farmers market outside your window. At the end of the dream, there was a flash, and I saw a vehicle crash, with images of tires rolling and a huge impact. I woke up bewildered and startled.

Fast forward months later, in the state of Washington on a mad-dash, house-hunting weekend, we (family of five + my mom) just happened to be one of the first families to query about an advertisement about a home for rent. Though after learning over the phone about the circumstances surrounding the home, we deduced it wasn’t the right timing for us to move into this particular house: they didn’t take dogs, there was no fenced yard, and we weren’t certain about the area. Regardless, the homeowner who had placed the advertisement on a whim felt an immediate connection to me over the phone.

The landlady insisted we come over to meet her. She wanted to at least show us around the neighborhood. When we arrived, she opened the front door and said, “Welcome home.” Upon seeing one another, we both instantly felt we had met before.

The house was like the house in my dream, set upon a hill with large windows over looking the water. I soon learned the owners were moving to Hawaii. Later that day, the landlady took us to the local Farmer’s Market.

We rented the house pretty much on the spot, despite the timing and perceived conflicts. Not waiting more than a few hours to make up our mind. We’d make the situation work. We made an immediate connection with the owners.

Before the move, my husband had to go up north to work, a month prior to the kids and me arriving. During my husband’s visit to the house we were to lease in Washington, the owner told my husband this: “I really like your mother-in-law, I really like you, but I am giving this home to you because I feel it will be a place of healing for Sam.”

I had never told my husband the words the woman had spoken in my dream; only my mother had known.

All the pieces of the dream were fitting together, except for the car accident I had seen.

I’d mentioned the accident to my mother, and was nervous to drive my children on the eleven-hour road trip back up to Washington.

A few days before I was to drive to Washington, I drove to the bay area in California with my mother. While driving on the freeway, I panicked, turned to my mom and, after reminding her of the dream,  said, “I have a lot of anxiety right now, with all of these trucks and large vehicles around us.”

Minutes later, a tire on a truck blew, directly in front of us on the freeway, and pieces of rubber flew out. We were fine, and the anxiety left.

I tried to convince myself that the tire blow out that had just occurred was the accident in my dream. After all, it was in the same time period. Even said so this to my mother.  Close enough, I told myself.

Still…..the feeling remained.

A few days later, on the way up north to Washington, with the van jammed pack with people, animals, our belongings, and a friend who was coming along to assist, we stopped at a hotel in Oregon. The hotel staff confused our reservation and gave us an inadequate sized room.

I decided it was best to leave the hotel and travel more. I wasn’t tired, after all.

Back on the road, during our search for another hotel, I was in the fast lane, moving along at an average speed, when directly in front of me, some four to five car-lengths ahead, an old-style silver motor home blew a tire.

Large chunks of tire came flinging towards our windshield, bumped off the van, and splattered and spun down the highway.

A knowing came over me: a remembering.

I gently hit the brakes and turned on my hazard lights.

The motorhome driver could not gain control. The vehicle started wobbling to the left, to the right, and back and forth, tilting this way and that, faster and faster, and closer and closer towards the road. There was nowhere for me to go. Cars were breaking behind. And there was a steady flow of traffic to my right. The shoulder to my left was a ditch of dirt. At my speed we’d crash, if I tried to pull over in the dirt.

I watched trembling, as the motorhome started spinning like a top at full speed, backwards towards us. I thought this might be the end. If that vehicle hit us, we would be crushed.

Seconds passed in slow motion.

I took a deep breath.

An hour before I had told my friend sitting in the passenger seat that because of my prior dream months ago, I felt protected on this journey.

I wasn’t so sure anymore.

The motorhome made a final spin before it tipped over onto its side and did several three-sixties, turning round and round, crashing and crashing, sending up clouds of dust.

At first I feared the vehicle was coming towards us. But it slid rapidly on its side, across the ditch, in a direction horizontal to us, all the way across to the other side of the freeway and oncoming traffic.

With a loud thump, the motorhome came to its final landing.

People from all directions came running towards the vehicle to help. I pulled over to the right side on the roadside, too shaken to move. Then my friend sitting next to me said exactly what I needed to hear. She said, “You know, if it hadn’t been you directly behind the motor home, if someone else had been driving and following closer behind, it could have been a lot worse.”

Her words comforted me.

I realized then that no one outside of the occupants of the motorhome had been involved in the collision. No fender benders, no spinning off the road, no severe braking. Everything around had remained calm.

Post 235: Halo Gone

| Aspergers Girls

I had a halo this morning:

I wrote a short post about it.

And received wonderful, wonderful comments.

Then logic set in.

At first I thought a bug flew around my head really fast before I took the photo of me with my I-Phone.

Nope.

A couple of hours later, after some reflection, I got the keen idea to go take some photos without me in the bathroom.

Would the pink light still be there?

Yep!

It has to do with the way my bathroom light bulbs reflect in the room.

Sigh. No halo.

No angels.

So panic set in.

I couldn’t be presenting myself as having a halo or little pink angels, when in actuality they were light bulb filaments reflecting in my bathroom.

I had to delete the post ASAP.

That’s how my mind works…and body responds. Any form of dishonesty, even unintentional or accidental, or not really even dishonesty to begin with but a mistake, and I FREAK and go into repair/fix mode.

So I deleted the original post for 235 of my tiny pink angels.

Sigh.

Deep breath.

Shaking off unneeded guilt and fret.

Then I had more time to think.

I may not have a halo that I can visibly catch on camera.

But it doesn’t mean I don’t have one.

And it doesn’t mean those little lights weren’t a message of sorts.

For a couple of hours, I was a believer again.

For a couple of hours, I thought I was protected and loved.

For a couple of hours, I thought I was special.

And then I realized…..

It wasn’t for a couple of hours

It’s been a lifetime

With or without proof

 

 

My mother used to work for Virginia Satir. This old plaque hangs in my kitchen. 

(My husband says: “Maybe that halo is yours. It just stays there in that spot!”—hopeful soul.)