Lonely Girl in the Heart Comes Alive

In the usual night agony, I heard a clear and no-nonsense voice: sit up right now!

I did, and in a king of whoosh I saw that the carrier of the agony energy was my spiritual ego – the one who has followed 10 Mystery schools  and  a zillion of trainings and and and and still feels this agony/rage/anxiety/death wish/killing lust.

It’s simply the whole “false” identity, the perceived “separate one” – the one who sees herself as NOT healed and worthy and a failure – she is ALL OF THAT.

And after reading Carrie Triffet’s last book – about the importance to completely utterly love the “subterranean self” – or those parts of us we have kept as a secret…that I fully acknowledge her presence, and realize how unavoidable it is to continue AS her. From now on relating TO her – is my intention.

Now, this night, I saw that I was asked to intend to LOVE ALL OF THAT – the whole old package of “the ego though system” as the Course calls it – all those parts of me that I had attached to those thoughts and called MINE and ME.

IT was strange to get up in the morning – it felt different. I could neutrally watch “her” and all her thought patterns – but they did not attach to me. That much. I witnessed her go bananas when she lost something on the floor – for the first time did I allow her to yell and curse and it felt just fine and NEUTRAL. No judgment.

She like very much to be praised for having been such a good girl – and I enjoy doing that, loving her, truly loving her, embracing her with what Carrie calls “the rose-golden Light.”

Bow this is weird and wonderful: the above in blue attached itself here ABOVE the text that I had composed on Word and copied. When I clicked glue in, it came too – helping me realize that what I wrote today was the continuation of the blue text.  Clearly  this is archetypal matter.

Lonely Girl in the Heart

 

In the middle of the Heart

there is a fog of woe and wonder –

so little known to itself,

so dreamingly absorbed in the

layers of illusion.

But look:

it’s floating in the Sun of the heart!

I am so lonely so lonely

and I do not know of my fears –

I sense them only when I am held

but very carefully, or I’ll burst into a million little pieces

someone has stolen my words

and my hopes

but my story is still here

under the layers of centuries.

I have a right to tell the story,

but who are the listeners?

A great light and soft love surround me when I finished writing the above, and a Voice speaks:

Child, listen – I am your mother, Aurora – Queen of the Heart

And I know that She has listened to it all

 

The inner Child is doubting that Aurora is real: “Please give me a sign, Blue – let me see this name within three days!”

Next day I read in the column for TV/radio: “Arcadian radio and The Arcadian Explorer’s editorial Staff continue their trip down Mississippi on the riverboat Queen Aurora.”

*

Today is 23.March 2020 – 22 years after I wrote the above, as a part of my book “When Fear Comes Home to Love”  – and I found the child, the Heart -and -body connection was made, and my whole experience of life has changed.

Before that, earlier today,  I sensed with deep grief that I truly wanted to be grounded – but there has always been something that refuses to be inside the body. I have sensed there is a root connection through my feet and the perineum – but I wanted the feeling/energy of the dissociated child  to be fully incarnated. I prayed deeply for help with this, and suddenly I KNEW that she was HERE – inside me – and the mother of all griefs burst forth. I have never cried like THAT before – completely new quality – now embracing all that loneliness.

Do you know what more is present:

My creativity – and two years of crazy wolf hunger is GONE

JUST GONE

The constant inner strong bumping pulse in the midsection – gone

So now I knew how I feel – and how SHE felt – so I decided to play with her with words. It felt like an adorable little girl of 4 years was present, a separate being – and I communicated with her just as I would do with a girl of flesh and blood.

It was very helpful to have worked with “parts” most of my 30 years as a therapist 😊

She has been behind the wolf hunger – and the impossibility to do anything creative and playful. Now she composed an adorable story about a pig who had the moon inside her and spread moonlight all over her surroundings.

I am aware that this energy of her needs time to solidify and integrate. Of course! Bless her!

 

I feel tired in a healthy way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lava-anger

What I am describing here is the very essence of torture belonging to anyone who cannot share humongous pain – be it trauma of any kind, abuse,war,illness – the occasion where this goes on continuously and there is no-one who will listen or acknowledge what goes on.

In the case of abuse,the family will not under any circumstances acknowledge it, And as soon as your face shows that there is something going on with you, you are told that ” do you have to look so forlorn – you, who are SO well cared for.

So the circumstances are:

constant abuse of any kind – (could be both inside the family and outside, from others,  as in my case) – and you discover that any signs of “something wrong”  psychologically/mentally are simply not tolerated.  If you get a flu, you may get lots of sympathy – breaking an arm gets you “Oh your poor child” and ice-cream. But ANY signs of inner agony – that anything is “wrong with you” – STOP IT. NO expression at all.

The consequence is that you can never relax. You cannot rest anywhere. You cannot even let yourself know how lonely you are, how terrible all that inner pain is, since it is denied from your closest ones, and consequently by yourself too.

This is how grave splits and dissociation happen in the psyche, and we get cases of severe denial and  “multiple selves” – and this is what I describe in my book you see in the right menu – “When Fear Comes Home to Love.”

Dream this morning:

I was hiking with a group of people to a place where we were to stay and live for some days. The weather was rugged, and I saw that I had only my old (at least 40 years old) red rain jacket on.

When we arrived, I went from room to room to find a free bed (mattresses on the floor.) There were clothes on everyone –  all were taken.

The metaphor: I have no place to rest, to sleep.

Maybe you can  recognize that belief – that feeling deep inside?

I saw clearly HOW repressed my desperation was at that time – due to deep abuse and also sexual torture from several people outside the family. It lasted years. It became the normal. My dream showed me the depth of my repression – and anyone’s repression, in the cases where there simply are no healthy people who CAN notice and care for the children who are victims of this. This kind of total repression goes far back through the ancestral lines – and you who read this may be one of those people who were never HEARD and welcomed and listened to.

After this realization, the underlying lava-anger started to erupt. There were strong murderous feelings and images, I allowed them all, honoring that child  – now I received the images of her hacking people to death: “Of course you has these impulses! This was at least an expression of the anger you felt – and any of us may feel  – when any sign of suffering is simply not allow to SHOW. And I am so grateful you did NOT show them there and them – that would most certainly have been dangerous for you. I am so very sorry for what happened to you, and that led to all your beliefs about who you were ( despicable creature being all wrong, not worthy of being seen and listed to) and all the coping mechanisms that you made, that saved your sanity. But I am here now to hold you and support you and  allow you to express any feelings at all – you have a right to them.NOW you are not alone, I AM HERE with you – and that makes all the difference.”

“I hate GOD!” you wail – “I prayed that God stopped them doing what they were doing, and he did nothing! He is evil! He wants me to suffer! And that must mean that I am guilty!!” and the next thoughts, following from this – ” He is punishing me for something – ” and the next thoughts:  “this punishing may save me from Hell later.”

That last one has a deep impact, I feel. That way of thinking actually draws  opportunities for suffering to me.

My printer is now reflecting this to me: the color blue will not print. (BLUE is what I call inner spiritual guidance in this blog.) Also, the support-plate for the paper will not tilt/lean back – pointing to the fact that it is almost impossible for me to lean back and support myself and all I want to share – symbolized with the printed papers with my words on them.

I am one of those who has actively chosen to see anything that happens as metaphors. It has served me well, and the Universe plays with me here – as now, with the printer. Right now a wave of bliss and laughter wells up in me, and  Blue reminds me of all the occasions where I have discovered that God loves to play. I have included numerous of these short stories in my book – all humorous and peculiar and odd.

Here is a couple:

Blue is playing:

Lesson today in A Course in Miracles: “I am not a body. I am free.”

In the evening, I am looking at “Joan of Arcadia” on TV. Joan’s class is performing a play. Their finale-song goes: “We are not flesh and blood. We are love!”

 

Blue is playing:

“…someone has stolen my words

and my hopes

but my story is still here

under the layers of centuries.

I have a right to tell the story,

but who are the listeners?”

A great light and soft love surrounds me when I finished writing the above, and a Voice speaks:

Child, listen – I am your mother, Aurora – Queen of the Heart

And I know that She has listened to it all

*

My inner child is doubting that Aurora is real: “Please give me a sign, Blue – let me see this name within three days!”

Next day I read in the column for TV/radio: “Arcadian radio and The Arcadian Explorer’s editorial Staff continue their trip down Mississippi on the riverboat Queen Aurora.”

The warehouse of support

Jennifer McLean speaks about “The warehouse of support” in her last program: 5 Power Attunements.

I have started a new habit – for each week to write down a support somebody gave me. And today I noticed that its not about noticing synchronicity any more – everything is supporting me, being meaningful.

Feel free to laugh! Loudly! But my white Amaryllis supports me in showing how i don’t rest, I just grow grow grow so much and so fast that the flowers withers inside the buds, (I opened one to look) and the stem is 13 inches long. And hollow, as I noticed when I cut one down to give the other flower more power.

I understood this when I talked to it and told it to cool down –  its is the flowers that I want to see, not the great length of those stems.

Hollow! what a metaphore

I need to rest.

Being with where i am and how i feel, allowing myself to be nurtured.

Sitting.

I think I am going to buy a new Amaryllis.

So – I went to the nearest mall – or warehouse  – bought groceries – walked back across a field with a sledging hill. The sledging hill was part of the path, so I walked it, noticing 3 children at the top, waiting with their toboggans.. A miniature sledger, about 2 years,  looking me angry in the face, wanted to know how I had the gall to walk up their sledging hill.

They are playing. I am limiting their play – I am in the way.

My intellect/achieving part is in the way of

PLAYING

I still have a lot of beliefs about the importance of being useful and good – and I make the players wait while i walk it

Priorities, Mrs Saachi! In any spiritual path, seriousness about it prolongs the path

OK then

This is from a game I play on an author-forum: one of us gives an altered phrase, and then any of us can offer an explanation. The sillier the better.

The Old Man and the Pea

When Ernest was about four, he already composed verses. Like this:
My old man he has a knee,
and he is very fond of tea,
and when he eats his little pea
he does it to avoid the flea.
This poem was cited very very often during the years that follow, until his father one day said, exasperated, forgodssakeErnie, can’t you rather write  about an old man and the sea instead.. Ernie resisted until he was 59 years old. He just didn’t like to be told what to do.

 

 

Whirlpool

I found this whirlpool-video on FB.

What IS it!!screams ego, and wants to know about the biological reason for this vortex of seeming devastation.

Well – I did Nouk Sanchez’  “invocation of the Miracle, ” ( you find it in her book, and also as an mp3) and learned this:

Seen from Spirit: this is a thought of separation and destruction – believed in, and therefore endowed with the Power that God created us with. What we believe in, we enliven and experience as real – and will be given any form of destruction. The form means absolutely nothing – unless we identify with the ego thought system and the “me” that belongs to it – then it becomes our experience, and very real. But appearances are just that – illusions dreamed up in the name of separation. In this case, we are dreaming up an image of the huge and overpowering Nature and the fragile parts of it being sucked into the abyss. And we all have our special and personal images of what that hell is – and we feed it with our fear.

Which is nothing more than the ego’s enormous fear of being dismantled and sucked down into nothingness.

But the ego IS nothing in itself: it is a thought-system of lies, believed in – and only our sacred power of belief gives it form and appearance as real.

Holy Spirit, I am willing to have this perception healed and corrected.

The turmoil I am feeling in the start of the invocation is the turmoil of doubting the power of God – that is, doubting God Itself, and therefore doubting my Divine Christed Self, created in His Image. This is the very  symbol of the whirlpool in the video.This doubt sucks us down into the hell of denial of our own sacred self, our own True Nature. And as I feel this collective doubt right now in THIS body, I at the same time choose to accept myself RIGHT NOW – inside this whirlpool of false perception. I am not guilty or sinful for believing in lies – but oh how I notice the unpleasant consequences  of those false thoughts.

I forgive myself for using this image of destruction to punish myself – to make myself small and suffering, scared and doubtful, which is what ego wants.

Nouk reminds us that to receive the miracle, we need to want our perception to heal MORE than we want the form to change/heal – since it is my perception of it that creates the form/my world.The darkness and destruction is in my mind – the outer world is just an image of thoughts is my mind that I/ the Son of God/ believes in.

It is only my perception of the whirlpool as A PROBLEM that makes it scary.

Thanks for that reminder, Nouk. That deserved red

Take that label “problem” off: this is just an image I made where I could attach my fear,doubt,guilt and sin-bundle that the ego offers. The ego has ONLY the power I choose to give it.

I allow God’s version of Love to replace my choice for ego’s destruction. I claim my guiltlessness which IS the will of God. I accept Miracles as my inheritance. I accept that now my will is joined with God’s. I accept the my holiness reverses all the laws of the world – because God has given it to me as Christ. I accept that the healing that I asked for, already has taken place – contrary to any appearances remaining.

Looking at the whirlpool now, the former reactions of agony and despair have gone. The deep belief of guilt has gone: nope – I have not caused this: it never happened in reality, just within the collective nightmare we seem to be living in.

Nouk reminds me that God has already healed the cause of the problem/the belief in the separation. Now it’s up to me to truly trust my true Christ identity.

*

I am lying in bed, talking this into my recorder.A bright square appears on the wall in front of me.

DSC01108It is a shadow of a star – the sun just now moved into the window beside my bed. I Immediately smell Blue’s way of playing, jump out of my bed  – and spot the star I have attached on the wall behind my bed:

DSC01111 (2) - Kopi

Ah! That was a sweet reminder!

Then I realize that this star is NOT the star that I see as a shadow i n the lighted square on the wall. Here is THAT star:

DSC01116

This is a little journeyer from Tove Jansson’s beloved books about the Moominfamily: The Moomrik. He loves to travel, and never stay at any place where he arrives. It is the Journeying he loves: THIS moment. HERE. And all the ways he appreciates it: the special shade of blue in the sea and clouds. The smell of salt in the air. The silent humming from his leading star:

The Heart

DSC01115

The original boat with Moomrik is just 2 inches – but I hope you enjoy his expression and joy of the journey

 

 

Take care of yourself

Practicing “The Untethered Soul”-way  has flowed easily and with grace. It has been simple to experience my Self as the Observer, the Witness – and not getting involved in whatever the mind presents. I love Singer’s way of describing the practice – he tells us to watch us watch, and not get involved in what we watch – “don’t play with it” he says, and this sentence is written in gold for me.

I have needed to make an important distinction – when to play/engage in stories and form and when NOT.

As artist  and therapist embracing  all art modalities,  I know that all CAN be played with. That is what “Healing Crisis – 108 ways to turn crises into possibilities” is all about. You may read more about that work on this blog, where I present the 4 books I am in the process of self-publishing.

What I discover with Singer’s process is that as soon as darkness wells up, just as energy, I can relax physically and intentionally let it go. That has worked phenomenally for a couple of days. I have found that if I get the impulse to paint or dance or writes stories/poems to deal with the pain, that is excellent – it is fun! and effective! -But sometimes it is simpler just to release it. What becomes clear is that my Self wants me to enjoy the process and not “work” at it.

So yesterday it was just impossible to stay in the watcher-position. I wrote this poem instead –  being conscious that I want the underlying message to come through: the art of  hiding any outer signs of protest or distress, so the facade seems completely flawless. You find it in all families where the demon of perfection is a member.

 

Doll

My mother has sewed a national costume for me.I wear an embroidered bonnet on my blond hair, and  a white cotton blouse with wide sleeves under the embroidered costume.

She has sewed at night to finish it in time for my performance .She has even made one for my doll Anne too.

Anne belongs to me

I am a clever and talented little girl: I make poems and melodies and perform them from a stage at my school closure, accompanying myself on a little accordion. My parents sit very close to me. They will let me know every error I made afterwards. This is love.

Under the dress, allergic itching boils cover all of the body – except for my face and hands which is visible.

Afterwards my father tells me that I should have sung with more feeling.

So I accepted where I was and took care of myself as best I could. And had a wondrous dream:

I am visiting a School for Teachers. I am there to teach – the old technique my husband had taught me on how to create puppets,  more than 100 years old. When I entered the infinite corridor of the school, where discoveries and observation and play was happening everywhere – (no blackboards) I felt hilarious with joy. And I decided that I would happily leave my old tradition.

I visited many classrooms, and everywhere I felt  the same joy of exploration and inclusion. Nobody – absolutely nobody were excluded in the creative process, and it was a matter of course that everyone’s input was invaluable. This created an exquisite feeling of unity and joy.

Then I met a strong and exuberant man called Benner – or something like it. He had this great motor bike, and I hopped on as passenger. Complete freedom! We are now driving down a muddy slope, and before us lays the ocean. Oops  – is this safe? I decide that it is: that Benner knows what he is doing.

And there we are, flying across the water surface with immense speed. We fly so fast that the nature is starting to seem flurry – the forms dissolve and becomes light. We flow through a tunnel of this light, the beauty  and joy is indescribable.

In this school, it was demonstrated that the most joyous work came out of the structure that everybody’s inputs were valued.The Self was playing with Itself, and if a “part” of the Self had a sense of “No, not like that”, that sense belonged to the truth of the process and was just picked up  by that part. And the result was perfection – but the perfection in Self and not in  separate self, as the Doll-poem was about.

 

 

 

 

Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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