Ruffled Feathers

Owl Medicine & Akashic Records – Day Thirty Eight

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Searching for a Chapter

Earlier today I found myself taking a harder look at my book, Owl Medicine, than I have in, well, years. By which I mean I actually cracked it open and started reading from it, as opposed to just looking at its cover.

I was searching for a specific chapter in which I discern the deeper meaning of a dream I’d had by reading in the Medicine Cards’ book about an animal that appeared in that dream. At the time, I thought I had a pretty good grasp of what the dream was showing me. But when I read the actual text in that book, I was astonished by the synchronistic use of certain words that were so obviously linked to the details of my dream that it was akin to Spirit bonking me on the head.

It’s important to remember that, when I describe how I marveled at that time about the specificity of the text and the apparent ‘message’ of my dream, I had only just started using the Medicine Cards. They were not a regular part of Karl’s and my daily routine. They were simply a neat set of oracle cards that played a part in helping me figure out what in the heck my discovery of a dead Great Horned Owl meant.

Anyway, as I was searching for that specific chapter, I obviously had occasion to once again read snippets of my story, as I was searching for something quite specific. Quite fortuitously, this reminded me of a correction – or rather, explanation – I’ve wanted to publicly make with respect to my book for quite some time.

Etheric Translator or ‘ET’

Specifically, there are a couple of references in Owl Medicine as to the great skill of my mentor/teacher at that time as an ‘Etheric Translator.’ Those of you who have read the book may have wondered what the heck an Etheric Translator (or ‘ET’) is, as you’d undoubtedly never heard of it prior to reading my book. That’s because I made the term up.

It’s not an inaccurate term. In fact, it’s an excellent definition of someone who reads the Akashic Records, which is what my teacher did. And still does, as far as I know. (Although I haven’t looked for her, to tell the truth, so I really can’t say.) And if you don’t know why that might be, you really should read the book.

Correcting the Record

I’ve long felt I wanted to correct the record, so to speak, and make it clear that a so-called Etheric Translator is actually someone who reads the Akashic Records. It feels important, somehow, that people understand what I was actually referring to when I called her an ET.

The reason I did it was this: When Owl Medicine was going to print, the internet and ‘Google’ were really just getting off the ground as far as the regular public was concerned. I did an internet search of the term Akashic Records and – lo and behold – there was my teacher, front and center, at the top or close to the top of recommended readers.

Given the nature of my experiences as described in my book, I did not want anyone to even remotely guess who she was or make any connections to her by doing such a search. This was true even though I changed her name.

In the intervening years, the explosion of interest in all things esoteric has resulted in hundreds of people becoming adept at reading the Akashic Records, and a plethora of books and articles have been written on the subject. I did a search tonight and did not find her appearing in any of the top search pages.

Hence, I am hereby letting people know that I am not some doofus who didn’t know what the Akashic Records are really called. I called a person who reads them an Etheric Translator because I wanted to assure the anonymity of my first and probably most influential teacher.

(T-1073)

Tested to Trust – Day Thirty Seven

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Tested to Trust

I find myself tested this evening. Tested to trust that it is time to share with all of you a topic that’s popped into my head at least a couple of times recently and asked to be shared.

Funny thing is, it begs to be shared, yet I worry that, by sharing it, I will dilute its power and effectiveness.  Quite the conundrum, I suppose.

Starting With a Blank Slate

I’ve discussed in other posts how I’ve gradually embraced the practice of actively eschewing ‘knowing too much’ about my clients before having a session with them. Remarkably, to my mind, I’ve found that the less I know intellectually about a person before a session, the more ‘blank’ my slate is with respect to them – hence, I can sit in Sacred Space with a person and allow their story to unfold without any preconceptions.

My sense, as I’ve allowed this practice to deepen in the 15 or so years that I’ve been engaging in shamanic work on behalf of other people (i.e., not just for myself), is that this is a rare experience for a client indeed.

No preconceptions. No chart or notes to review. No test results. No referral slip.

Just us. Just us and the cocoon of energy and palpable comfort and support that comes with the arrival of invisible allies, ancestors, guardians, and guides.

Usually, upon listening to the interweaving of my client’s life experiences, I detect the thread that’s appeared in one way or another, in and out of their life at various times, and which now either needs to be removed altogether or at the very least transmuted.

I can attest to the joy and astonishment I feel each and every time I see the light dancing in my client’s eyes at the conclusion of a session. I never take for granted that the ‘magic’ will happen with this client. (Any client.) Because in truth, I have no control over what happens in a session. Oh yeah, I control the outward stuff: I’m the one who opens Sacred Space, who establishes a sense of safety and confidentiality with my client. I set the tone by explaining that they can ‘start anywhere’ in the process of telling me about themselves – and reassure (or is it terrify?) them that we will ‘go everywhere.’

And I can use the skills I’ve developed and cultivated – probably all my life (and in many others, I suspect) – to hone in on that thread that holds the recurring pattern that now yearns to be addressed and is the reason my client was urged to set up an appointment with me in the first place.

When the Magic Really Happens

But really and truly? The magic happens when they stop talking and I go into another mode altogether. I stop talking, too – at least, as Lisa.

It’s not that I can’t hear myself speaking (when and if I do, which is never the same from one session to the next) when I begin the actual shamanic aspect of the session. I can. But it feels like it is coming from somewhere else.

And I’ve learned that I need to write down as much as I can – whether it be what I am speaking out loud or, more often, what I am being shown or told just outside or on the edge of this reality – because very similar to having a powerful dream that you think you will never forget, the sights, the sounds, the stories that I’ve experienced rapidly disperse like a wisp of smoke at session’s end.

Tested to Trust – a Leap of Faith

Each and every time I ‘move my client to the floor’ (which means we conclude our conversation on the comfortable chairs and couches in my office and my client joins me on the floor, face-to-face, initially, to work with the stones in my mesa) it is a leap of faith. It is placing my trust in Spirit to guide me on how best to work together with my client’s soul to effect the shift or healing in their life that is for their highest good.

Wow, once again, I started out intending to write about one thing, and something else obviously wanted to be expressed. Indeed – that’s sort of what I intended to write about to begin with!

Wait, what?

(T-1074)

Tampering – Day Thirty Five

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Tampering 

Yesterday I described my particular ethical standards when it comes to doing energy work on clients (or anyone for that matter), including activity as seemingly simple as directing my energy or intention ‘toward’ someone with a specific intention, such as ‘prayer.’ Simply put, without the express permission of the intended recipient, I believe engaging in such behavior is ‘tampering.’

Quite honestly? I look around nowadays and I listen to what is said and done in the name of Gods, Sons of Gods, other people’s Higher Powers, and all sorts of belief systems (and non-belief systems), and I am appalled at how so many people inflict their beliefs and their judgments about what is ‘good’ or ‘bad’ or ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ happen in certain situations on other people all the time.

I distinctly remember the first time I encountered and saw first hand the actual harm this could do to a person without them even realizing it. This was many years ago and a friend of mine had suffered an extensive and life-threatening brain injury. His loved ones sent out a blanket request  for prayers, Reiki, distance-healing modalities of any and all kinds to be ‘sent’ to my friend as he lay prone in his hospital bed.

As it happened, I’d been receiving specific healing training and had been working on establishing a working relationship with Spirit and my allies for a couple of years, but was essentially using my knowledge for my own personal growth and understanding. (Never did I ever, at that point, envision myself doing what I do now.)

But even in my earliest days of metaphysical education some 15 years earlier (about 35 years ago now), I had been schooled in the tenet that directing energy toward or on behalf of someone without their express permission is a form of tampering, and therefore an abuse of power.

I was surprised when my friend requested that I come to the hospital Intensive Care Unit to see him; and I was even more surprised when the staff seemed to just assume that I was supposed to be there. No one questioned me. They looked me in the eye, they smiled, and they allowed me to simply ‘be’ in his room with him. Because of the nature and severity of his injury, he was barely conscious; slipping in and out of awareness, which made the fact that he’d literally said my name to his partner and asked for me to come to his bedside even harder to comprehend.

Opening Sacred Space

But I did. And I had no idea what I ‘should’ do or how I could be of assistance. So I stood at his bedside, and when he opened his eyes, said I was there and asked if I could open Sacred Space around him. I saw a glimmer in his eyes and the slightest nod, so I did so. Quietly. Discreetly. And I sat with him and just held space. I did not ‘pray’ or even hope for any particular outcome (and the prognosis at that time was very dismal – even if he survived, his quality of life might be horribly compromised).

After about 90 minutes (an eternity in an ICU – and another small blessing), I left – advising my friend that I was going to leave Sacred Space ‘open’ around him, so he would feel safe, loved, and protected.

Later that evening and for a few days after that, I noticed and heard about the continued cascade of prayers and assorted healing energies bombarding my friend. Almost all that he survive, that he pull through, etc. I wanted to scream.

The day after I opened Sacred Space around him, I was told that the doctors were astonished by his improvement, and he was moved to a Critical Care unit. About five days later, he asked for me again, so I went.

Installing Protection

He was in worse shape, to my eyes, when I saw him that day. (Again, though, I was almost welcomed by the staff – and definitely afforded privacy and respect. It was weird.) He seemed to be writhing in pain, and I was a bit freaked out that no one seemed to be noticing or doing anything for him.

I’d been taught a form of protection I could ‘install’ into a person’s energy field that would protect them from the unconsciousness of others (even if well-meaning). And as I sat by his bedside, I brought this up. As I did so, I delicately asked if he knew that he was very loved and basically a bazillion people were ‘sending’ him all sorts of prayers and energy and stuff at the request of his partner. He nodded. I asked if maybe he was feeling bombarded by it all; and that maybe even some of it was interfering with his own soul’s intentions or desires – or making it hard for him to know how and whether to heal. He nodded.

I asked if he would like me to install this protection. He nodded.

So I did. And before my eyes, it was like night and day. He settled down, the appearance of bombardment seemed to lessen dramatically, and within minutes, he fell asleep.

I – was – astounded.

He continued to flourish and healed better and faster than his emergency surgeons could have hoped.

Understand this: I do not claim to have had any impact in this situation other than, at most, providing a calming influence. But he and I both realized the immediate response that he felt when I installed (with his permission) a barrier between him and all of the varied intentions of a myriad of people, many of whom undoubtedly were invoking requests for very specific outcomes.

My point? It very well could have been his time to make his transition. It may have been his soul’s intention to experience life with substantial residual disabilities. And it may have been his soul’s intention to experience a remarkable – almost magical – recovery. Whatever…it was his choice.

This went way too long. But I hope it gives you some idea of why we need to just. send. love.

Anything else would be tampering.

(T-1076)

Permission – Day Thirty Four

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 Permission

 Permission. It’s an interesting concept, and securing it in my work is something I take very much to heart. But before I even get to the point where I would seek permission to do anything on behalf of a client, I stop myself – and the client – from getting there prematurely.

It has been my practice since early on in my shamanic work to make a point of not ‘reaching out’ to a client in any way before a session. In a regular, every day sense, that means that I prefer not to receive emails from them that contain details of their lives or the possible issues or difficulties they may be facing that caused them to make an appointment with me.

A corollary to that, which I’ve found intriguing but not entirely sure whether it was ‘real’ or not, was the sense that I should not even ‘think’ about my client ahead of our session. Not in a ‘block them from my mind in every way’ type of sense, but rather a feeling that I shouldn’t reach out to them energetically  (using a combination of my mind and my feelings, is sort of the best way I can describe it). And the sense that tells me that I should not reach out in such a way is two fold:

First, if I reach out to get a bead on what is at the foundation of how they’re feeling or what is going on with them, I could totally misread or put my own spin on things. This is especially true, obviously, if they have succeeded in making contact with me enough to have spilled in an email or whatever some details of what they’re dealing with or why they feel they need a session. And let me tell you, as a die-hard problem-solver, it almost used to reach addiction-level temptation to want to ‘suss out’ as much information as possible before a session. Or even just ‘get a sense’ of what their underlying stuff might entail.

But that’s ego. That’s thinking I somehow ‘know’ a lot more than I actually do, and it’s also a place where experience can lead to arrogance in the blink of an eye. It’s thinking I can figure things out ahead of time that can really lead me astray.

Manipulating Energy Without Permission – Even With the Best of Intentions – is Wrong

Second, though, is an even a greater risk, and that has to do with the concept of tampering or working one’s will in a situation; manipulating energy – or in some way intervening in a situation, even with the ‘best of intentions’ – without another person’s express permission . In other words, if I reach out energetically beforehand and happen to sense their malady (or what I perceive  to be their issue, which again, could be spot on or could be my intellect trying to ‘figure it out’), I might be tempted  to do something that I ‘think’ could ease their pain or even ‘fix’ an issue right then and there. Remotely, or from afar. And that would be wrong.

Those of you who have studied with me or done any work of your own beyond ‘just’ having a session with me know what a stickler I am about this aspect of energy work. I firmly believe in securing the express permission of anyone with or for whom I’m asked to help out in any way. Considered odd by many, I also extend that to ‘prayer,’ and ‘sending’ Reiki (just using this as an example – I am not a Reiki practitioner), or doing anything energetically on behalf of another. Personally, I do not feel it is right to ever assume that I know what is right or appropriate for a person to receive.

Permission from Parents or Guardians, too

And I’m persnickety about that permission, too. For instance, I do not subscribe to the ‘my soul asked their soul and they said it’s ok’ school of thought if, say, a person is unconscious or in a coma. If that’s the case, I then seek to secure the permission of the one who is charged with making care or treatment decisions for the person on the physical plane as well.

This is true in the case of a person ‘of tender age,’ too, so even with a child, I not only take great pains not to ‘check things out ahead of time,’ but I also make sure the parent or guardian has given me permission to work on the child as well.

I had two interesting experiences just this week that pertained to the issue of permission. But before I could even discuss them here, it felt important to explain my perspective and how I approach my work.

Sometimes it’s really, really hard not to step in and do what ‘feels’ right. But not without permission.

(T-1077)

Familiars – Day Thirty Three

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Familiars

I need to admit something. I just fell asleep. Well, actually, I just woke up after accidentally falling asleep, and realize I have precious little time left to write my post this evening.

My pup, Spartacus, hopped into my lap about an hour ago, tucked himself into the nooks and crannies of my crossed legs, and fell asleep. When he fell asleep, the weight of his muscular Boston Terrier body settled in and he snuggled deeper and deeper. He sighed, and I could tell he was descending into his version of the dreamtime.

The funny thing is, I’ve been looking forward to writing this post all day. Not ‘this’ post specifically, obviously, since this clearly does not have a distinct point or purpose. But I found myself looking forward to reaching out and connecting in this fascinatingly compelling relationship I feel we’re engaging in.

I know some of you are reading my words, somewhere, be it in minutes, hours, or years from now, and I just love that sense. I can’t explain it. That sense of even one other person besides myself reading what I happen to share on this tiny piece of machinery in my lap (which has succeeded in ousting my deliciously warm, loving pup) is…magical.

Familiar? Or Connection?

I started out thinking I would write about my ‘familiars’ ~ my four legged family members who station themselves in such a way as to make me dance around them almost relentlessly, yet are such profound fonts of unconditional love and enthusiastic adoration. But now I’m thinking about you, my readers.

Hmm, what is the connection here? Maybe that’s precisely what it is: connection. With my pups and my kitties, the connection is, naturally, physical. There are words involved, but it’s debatable just how much they actually understand. Sure, they comprehend my tone and probably even facial expressions to an extent, and they certainly can ‘read’ the energy emanating from my entire body, mind, and spirit.

And then there is my connection with those of you who care enough to read my words. But our only connection, really, are those words. There is no shared eye contact, no touch, no warm hugs.

And yet, we’re connected. And it matters, to me at least, that you are there. Receiving my outreach, even if it’s only via words.

Thank you.

(T-1078)

Magic – Day Thirty One

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 Magic

Once again, if you’d asked me this morning what tonight’s post would be about, ‘magic’ would not have occurred to me, just as ‘trust’ wasn’t on my radar yesterday.

In case you didn’t notice, I was feeling a bit…passionate when I wrote last night’s post. Hard as it may be to believe, I’d actually brought it down a couple notches by the time I wrote the post. (You can imagine what it was like earlier that evening; it wasn’t pretty.) Indeed, I actually think I’ve been suffering from an adrenaline hangover all day today. My body aches and I’ve felt exhausted. Like a wet dishrag, actually. Just wrung the heck out.

Anyway, although Raven (which is associated with ‘Magic’ in the Medicine Cards), was not what I picked on my day this morning, it did end up being chosen by me in another context. And as the day unfolded, I honestly could feel Raven exercising its influence, even after the primary purpose for choosing it had passed. Indeed, I felt it working with the situation about which I was so upset yesterday.

While there are a couple of particularly salient paragraphs I could quote, I’m going to settle for just a few portions:

“If you have chosen Raven, magic is in the air. Do not try to figure it out; you cannot. It is the power of the unknown at work, and something special is about to happen. (…)

It may be time to call Raven as a courier to carry an intention, some healing energy, a thought, or a message. Raven is the patron of smoke signals or spirit messages represented by smoke. (…)

Remember, this magic moment came from the void of darkness, and the challenge is to bring it to light. In doing so you will have honored the magician within.”

Hurt Feelings Abounded

As it turns out, hurt feelings abounded last night, and not just on my end. Out of the darkness of that sense that I had unwittingly uncovered a betrayal from a completely unexpected source, the two of us were able to bring light to the situation.

Reflecting on the heartfelt emails that went back and forth between us today, I can only say that I know for certain both of us encountered magic. The volcanic eruption that occurred yesterday took us both completely by surprise. And yet, because we do have the level of trust that I described as only one tier below that of my inner circle of closest family, we each cared enough to express ourselves with utter vulnerability and honesty.

Need I say how startlingly rare that is in the world?

In the end, I am called upon to trust. I do not need the documentary proof that may or may not exist. I choose to rely on my instincts, and trust. I choose to listen to Raven, and embrace the magic.

Oh – one last thing? Moose was underneath that Raven. Wow.

(T-1080)

Losing Trust – Day Thirty

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Losing Trust

If you’d asked me this morning what I would be writing about this evening, trust – or more accurately, losing trust , would not have been top of my list. Not to say trust doesn’t figure prominently in my life; it does. I just wouldn’t have thought I’d be bringing the topic up again quite so quickly since my last post about it.

But here it is, the clock is ticking relentlessly toward the witching hour, and I have only just now managed to get to my MacBook Air (not my Dell, notably!) to write this post.

Trust me (no pun intended), this will not be a long one.

Losing Trust Makes Us Feel Vulnerable and Foolish

Part of my agitation in writing this particular entry is that I happened upon information this evening, out there on the “internets,” that caused me to feel as though the floor had dropped out from under me.

No, I didn’t catch my husband cheating or doing anything nefarious, nor did I discover anything horrible about any of my sons or loved ones that would wreck my world. Or at least my world view.

But I did discover something that made me question a very close business relationship. It made me feel vulnerable and foolish, for if the appearance of what I discovered turned out to be true in its most obvious sense, then I’d been betrayed.

Levels of Trust

Which makes me contemplate the different levels of trust we accord various factions of people who cross our path in life. There are, of course, those who occupy the ‘inner circle.’ Parents, siblings, spouses/partners, children. We usually demand the greatest loyalty from them because they are either blood – or so close to blood they might as well be. When trust is broken in those relationships, we react in a certain manner, depending upon the level of egregiousness.

The next level is comprised of close, deep friends, and perhaps business associates with whom we have a partnership, similar to a sibling or marital relationship, but not necessarily quite as profound. In some cases, I think we may be more profoundly devastated by a breach of trust in this situation than in the first level, because for the most part we’ve chosen these people to be part of our world.

Then there are people with whom we interact on a transactional, day-to-day level. This can be people with whom we work or friends who actually are more acquaintances than anything else, but are perhaps vying for entry into the next level of relationship. Trust in these situations can pervade the relationship, yet not necessarily be needed or warranted. It may be granted, but not be required in order for the relationship to succeed.

And then there are the people with whom we interact on a superficial basis. We basically do not even need to assess the level of trust they deserve, for trust is not an inherent aspect of why we are interfacing with them.

Tonight I experienced what I perceived as a breach of trust of a relationship in the second highest level. It’s interesting, because the person whom I perceived may have ‘sold me out,’ so to speak, I have never met in person, yet actually have cultivated an extremely deep level of trust with and in over the past ten years or so.

Ten years is a long time. And I trust (man, that word – and concept – keeps popping up) my instincts, not only in the short term, as in the sense I get when I first meet a person and make eye contact with them, but also in the long term. I truly believe that one of the gifts of my ‘Owl Medicine’ is to be able to discern the true nature of people accurately. Usually with pinpoint accuracy.

If There’s Trust in a Relationship, Then It Deserves a Chance

So when confronted with the possibility of betrayal, of discovering that someone in whom I had placed great trust on many levels, had possibly sold me out for what was undoubtedly a paltry sum (in consideration of the value of my trust, which is considerable, if I do say so myself), I spoke up. I asked. I confronted – in disbelief, and in the hope that I was somehow misperceiving what I’d discovered – but with conviction that I required clarity.

And I received a response. Quickly. With apparent sincerity, and with what I trust (*) will justify my deep caring for the person and relationship in question.

And with that, I must post this. I truly and sincerely hope my trust is warranted, for otherwise, I will be deeply saddened. And pissed.

(T-1081)

Bad Habits – Day Twenty Nine

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 Bad Habits

In yesterday’s post I wrote that I was chagrined to discover that my practice of journal writing has clearly suffered as I have worked to fulfill my daily commitment in the form of the 1111 Devotion. I’d recently realized that I’d allowed an entire 14 days to go by without writing in my journal, which is a serious breach, in my book. And it isn’t that I’m blindly demanding daily journaling in addition to my commitment here; but I am saying that this act of neglect is one of several bad habits I indulge in – and not something I want to encourage within myself.

My reasoning, as I said yesterday, is two-fold, with the first being the simple fact that maintaining a journal has been a huge and essential part of my life for the vast majority of it. Journaling keeps my head on straight. It helps me see things differently than when thoughts and feelings are simply chasing each other around in my head, and it clarifies my emotions. This is true in spite of the fact that my discipline was nearly derailed when I realized I might not always be able to assume my privacy was assured. That’s how important journaling is to me.

My second reason for not condoning the sacrifice of my journaling is because it would defeat the purpose of my 1111 Devotion. It would strip it of its essence as an Act of Power. How is it rightfully a devotional practice to simply substitute one form of writing for another? What about that would be meaningful?

Not much.

Games My Mind Plays

It’s fascinating to see the little games my mind plays. The compromises I engage in – and to what end? Depriving myself of doing that which I love the most? Atta girl, Lisa. You’ll show them! (Who? Myself?)

It’s just dumb. And akin to that whole indulgence stream of thought I wrote about a few days ago.

I guess I’m realizing just how much this happens. How often I procrastinate on or outright refuse to engage in behavior that will only serve to make me happy or improve my life experience.

As I sit here contemplating just how much this behavior permeates my life, I’m disturbed by such a propensity. Not only do I seem to go on a guilt trip when I ‘indulge’ in turning off the tv and reveling in silence, but I also apparently sabotage my efforts to do what I love and live my life in beauty and ease and comfort.

Time to knock this shit off, I say.

(T-1082)

Neglected Journal-keeping – Day Twenty Eight

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Journal-keeping

I have to admit it; I’m a teensy bit stoked that I’ve made it a full lunar month of consistently writing Ruffled Feathers entries.

There has been some fallout in other areas, however, which I’m going to need to rectify, such as my regular journal-keeping. Yeah, my spiral notebook is feeling neglected. I noticed about a week ago that I’d permitted a terrible lapse in entries. A full fourteen days, if I’m not mistaken, which for me is nearly unforgivable.

Do I Have to Choose?

The only reason I didn’t lapse into a round of merciless self-flagellation was because I knew that, on some level, I’d made a choice. And for now at least, if I honestly felt I needed to make a choice, then opting for my 1111 Devotion was the way to go.

Yet as soon as I realized that I was sacrificing one form of writing for another, I knew that could not stand. Keeping a journal has been my way of snatching sanity from the undertow of overwhelm and sadness all my life. Keeping a journal has been integral to maintaining my marriage. Keeping a journal has led me to personal insights that I’m confident I never would have made otherwise, and therefore keeping a journal has been integral to creating the person I am today.

So no, sacrificing my journal writing to fulfill my commitment – my devotion – to honoring Karl’s life is not a practice I will permit. I’m not saying that I must write in my journal every day. But I am saying that a two week lapse is not part of the plan.

My reasoning is two-fold. First, I have kept some form of a journal in earnest since I was in 7thor 8thgrade. I cannot say that I’ve seen those earliest confessionals since becoming an adult, but I do recall writing out my feelings back when I was in 8thgrade, and perhaps even younger.

A Breach of Trust

And sadly, round about the age of 16 or so, I also recall discovering that my mother had done the unthinkable and read something I’d written without asking. (I’m thinking this may be why I haven’t discovered those early attempts at keeping a ‘diary.’ Although I do not remember reacting in an incendiary manner to her breach – by literally lighting them on fire or even being tempted to chuck them – I do find it odd that I can’t put my hands on them. And my visceral reaction to even the thought of burning or otherwise disposing of a journal leads me to believe I would never have taken such a drastic step.)

That’s not to say that I wasn’t incensed with my mother’s breach. Oh my. I was. But I also know we hashed it out. Honestly, tearfully, and not just a little angrily. Which is why I feel slightly bad about dredging this up now, because I know I forgave her. But forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting. And I’m not dredging this up to make her feel bad (since she’s been gone from this realm since 1991), but rather to explain that the deepest source of my outrage at her betrayal was because she’d had my trust. I told her almost everything (much to her chagrin many times). And I didn’t lie. But that’s not to say I told her every single lustful little thought that entered my mind as an adolescent (ew). And those thoughts were precisely the types of things she discovered when she read my ‘diary’ that I took absolute umbrage over her violating my privacy.

I’ve spent much longer on that fracas with my mother than I intended. And yet I’m not quite finished.

It feels important to express why I continued keeping journals even after my mother’s breach. Indeed, they became more and more of a lifeline for me when I turned 17 and became an exchange student in Sweden.

And that’s because I forgave her. And I forgave her because we listened to each other.

Forgiveness – Healing for Both the Forgiver and the Forgiven

I remember having it out together in my parents’ bedroom, when I confronted her after she asked me a question that I immediately saw she already knew the answer to. I was, as I’ve said, incensed. She’d been worried. Or something. I can’t even remember, other than to recall that she admitted that she was wrong to have read it. She admitted that she knew she was wrong because we did have such a close bond, and I did tell her so much about my life. I could see it written all over her face that she sincerely regretted it. And on some level, I understood that she’d almost been offered too tempting a target. “Did she really know me?” “Could she really trust me?” All she needed to do was read what I wrote…

Things were way different culturally when I was 16 than when my sisters and brother were 16, my closest sister in age being 9 years older and the eldest being 19 years older than me. So, yeah. I understood that she wasn’t sure if she knew me. And she understood my outrage.

After our (heated) discussion, I trusted she’d never do that to me again. And I know that trust was well-placed.

I’ll get to my second point tomorrow.

I promise.

(T-1083)

Indulgence – Day Twenty Seven

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 7 Comments

 

Indulgence

It seems I struck a chord with my post on evening silence last night.

Why is it that so many of us find it difficult to give ourselves permission to indulge in those experiences that make us feel wistful when we contemplate them? And why do we consider engaging in those experiences indulgent?

When I started writing this post, I was surprised by how I almost feel naughty when imagining myself basking in evening silence, giving myself all the time I desire to immerse myself in another world for a while or write in my journal. And I could almost hear that same tinge-of-guilt-yearning in many of the comments I read to yesterday’s musing.

What is it about indulgence? Does it mean to give ourselves permission to do something risqué?

Nope!

According to the World Book Dictionary, to ‘indulge’ means: v. to give way to one’s pleasure (in); let oneself have use, or do what one wants; to give in to the wishes or whims of; humor.

Why Do We Make Ourselves Wrong?

I find it fascinating that my knee-jerk reaction to ‘letting myself do what I want’ – particularly something as nurturing as disconnecting from the chaos of the outside world – is something that provokes a vague sense being flighty or irresponsible or, as I said above, slightly naughty.

It’s weird.

Why is the idea of spending our time in ways that bring smiles to our hearts and joy to our eyes considered humoring ourselves?

When I let myself ‘go deep’ and really think about how much time any of us have in a particular lifetime, and how I actually spend my time, I can quickly lapse into a state of pre-melancholy if I’m not careful. There are a lot of things I do mindlessly. A lot of activities that I only do because, ugh – I hate to admit it – ‘everyone else does.’

Start Indulging In the Good Stuff NOW

I do not want to get to the end of my life and wish I’d indulged myself more often.

Because why the hell shouldn’t I indulge myself now? And why shouldn’t you? My indulgences are not of the sort that hurt anyone else. They don’t even harm either my own body or soul, as one might argue excessive drinking or debauchery (what a great word, that) might. While I do not know what your indulgences might entail, I imagine many are of a sweet, creative nature.

Permitting yourself to write those poems. Giving yourself an uncluttered space to paint. Shoving the couch to the side of the room and allowing yourself to dance. Allowing yourself to listen to the wind and play that haunting tune you hear on your acoustic guitar.

I feel a revolution coming on. A revolution of indulgence.

What secret yearning do you hold within that calls for you to humor today? Join me.

(T-1084)