An Uncapped Pen

July 23, 2012

Clearing Resistance With The Ascended Masters & Reiki

Filed under: Energy Work,Writing — cindylv @ 5:19 am
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I am transformed.

Resistance?  Ascended Masters?  Clearing?

I had no idea what to expect.  I just know I had an overwhelming urge to sign up for the class and pay my $35. With Amy Barilla  and Leeza Robertson as hosts, I knew I had nothing to fear. I brought my yoga mat, my bright red meditation cushion and my bottle of water, leaving my doubts and concerns at the curb.

As I arrived around 9:15, I was greeted with warm hugs by my hosts and several of the other participants.  “We’re huggers.” one of the ladies explained as she introduced herself and wrapped her arms around me.  (I’ve never been a “hugger”, but I am re-thinking that position.)  I picked my spot on the floor, unrolled my mat and settled on my cushion.  After a brief introduction and grounding meditation, Leeza asked us to lie down and get comfortable.

At this point, I get a little fuzzy on the details of who did what and when. With Angelic music in the background, Leeza guided us through a gentle awareness of our chakra centers, beginning at the root and working up to our crowns.  Both ladies walked around our circle providing healing energy, Reiki, and love. Leeza explained each chakra, what type of energy it provides and what issues may be associated with it.

Your root chakra is related to issues of security, safety, finances, feelings of worthiness.  She provided examples of problems or “junk” associated with your root, like scripts or messages you might have heard and incorporated into your own internal map.  “You’re not good with money.”  “I never have any money.”  “You don’t belong here.” Words or memories that might influence your feelings of financial security and safety.

As I lay on my mat drifting comfortably, listening to the music and Leeza’s hypnotic voice, I wondered idly what resistance I had and I was supposed to be doing to clear it.  Almost immediately, I felt my upper abdomen clench with nervous energy.  I visualized a gray mesh screen wrapped around my organs, squeezing the life juice out of them.  Leeza said, “Use your right hand to reach up, pull the energy out and fling it to the floor to release it.  Just get it out and let go.  If it moves around, keep chasing it.”  I placed my hand just under my rib cage and rubbed lightly, looking for the size of this energy and it’s boundaries.  I curled my fingers in and raked across my belly and flung “it” to the floor at my side. I felt a twinge in my lower right side and scooped it out.  My throat felt heavy, I rubbed, released and flung. My forehead twitched, back to my throat, my chest.  I kept scooping and flinging.

“Feel the healing love of the Blessed Mothers filling you with pink light, feel the warmth and safety of their embrace, their love surrounding you, filling your whole being with unconditional love. Take a deep breath in through your nose and push it out your mouth.”

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh…..The room filled with the sounds of releasing the last breath of resistance from our root chakras.  Good, she said.  That was wonderful.  The next chakra is your sacral, the waters of your emotions.  Passion, Creativity.  And we cleared, released, flung.  We floated, bathed in the pink light of the Blessed Mothers’ unconditional love.

Solar Plexus – Fire.  Heart Chakra – Love. Throat – Communication.  Screeching halt!  Memories of swallowing corned beef and choking on the strings.  It wouldn’t go down, it wouldn’t come up.  Mom yelling. Panic.  I don’t understand what’s wrong or how to fix it.  Afraid.  Can’t breathe.

Breathe, Leeza said.  I remember that I’m not five years old in the back seat of the car with meat in my throat.  I gasped around the lump in my throat….and released.

I remembered when I was about six years old, chewing a handful of gumballs all at once so I wouldn’t have to share with my brothers.  Sneaking. Chewing frantically so I wouldn’t get caught.  Starting to swallow the mess in my mouth and it getting stuck.  Me getting caught. Pulling it out, swallowing, choking, crying, gasping.

Breathe, Leeza said.  Release. Fling.  Letting go of the recurring nightmare.  Breathe.  Filling with pink, healing love.

At times, I heard sobs, sniffles, light moans, sighs, gasps, Leeza’s soothing voice and Amy’s tiny feet as she flitted around the room attending to each of us.  I felt crystals being placed on my solar plexus and gentle hands on my stomach, the top of my head, my feet.  I heard the singing of Leeza’s tuning fork near my left ear, filling me with healing vibration.

I felt an ache in the back of my head, tightness in my neck and shoulders.  I breathed, brushed and flung the energy to the floor. I felt the pink, healing love rush in and fill the empty places. I breathed.

Brow chakra – sight, trust, wisdom.

I noticed a heaviness around my head, like stagnant, humid air or hot breath.  I felt this cloud settling over my face and mouth.  Instinctively, I brushed it away.  Fresh, cool air seeped in and replaced the cloud. I breathed deeply and felt clean.

Crown chakra – divine love.  Visualize opening the top of my head. Releasing negative energy clogging around my head.  Allowing love and light to flow in through my crown chakra, filling me, energizing me, flowing out my root into the earth.  Energy from the earth flowing up through my root, filling me and out my crown.  Suspended in love.

Transformed.

Leeza brought us back to the room. It took me a few minutes to feel able to sit up.  I guzzled my water. I couldn’t speak. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, but I knew I was different.

I drove home in a daze, realized I was ravenously hungry.  I took my husband out for brunch and cleaned my plate (I’m not a plate cleaner) – $38. Then I insisted we go to Kohl’s where I bought lots of new underwear….the pink, lacy, passionate kind….not the Walmart functional kind. Lots of underwear – $42.

Oh, and I bought some new walking shoes…because I released my resistance to exercising – $16 (on sale at Tuesday Morning).

Then I went home and slept for two blissful hours with my cat (Free!)

Oh….and it seems I have released my resistance to writing, too (Priceless!)

Total cost of this transformation:  $131.

Amy Barilla and Leeza Robertson.  Blessed Mothers. Thank you.  Thank you. Thank you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ascended Master:  A being who has raised his/her vibration to a sustained frequency of light.

Blessed Mothers:  This category is a little less well defined.  I interpret Blessed Mothers as Mary, the Mother of Jesus and all the mothers of all time in all dimensions inspired by Mary’s divine love.  Light beings who nurture and love us unconditionally.

March 3, 2012

March……

Filed under: Uncategorized — cindylv @ 7:58 pm
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The word “march” brings back powerful memories of high school drill team and basic training. Almost 30 years later, the word “March” brings to mind the vicious winds that shred the blossoms on my fruit trees.

Springtime in Las Vegas….this is why I continue to live here. As I commit to another year in the desert, I renew my commitments to my garden, my house, myself…..my writing…my search for spirituality…my health…and my blog!

April 22, 2009

Today, I am . . .

Filed under: writing - not writing — cindylv @ 8:43 pm
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WRITING.

More specifically, I am . . .

typing, considering, fidgeting, humming, dramatizing, searching, plotting, re-searching, flipping, characterizing, reading, scratching, sipping, staring, wondering, hoping, imagining, gazing, doubting, daydreaming.

I am sorting, carrying, loading, laundering, bleaching, softening, transferring, drying, hanging, folding, putting.

I am soaping, poufing, exfoliating, shaving, lathering, rinsing, repeating, moisturizing, revitalizing(?), deodorizing, applying, lining, smudging, shadowing, blending, powdering, styling, spraying, selecting, dressing.

I am brushing, rinsing, spitting, re-rinsing.

I am gathering, slathering, chopping, shredding, assembling, folding, chewing, swallowing.

I am boiling, infusing, sweetening, slurping.

I am clicking, skimming, checking, chuckling, surfing.

I am dusting, vacuuming, straightening, wiping, emptying, hauling.

I am watering, fertilizing, mowing, deadheading, retying.

I am avoiding, distracting, pretending, procrastinating.

April 20, 2009

I Confess

The Las Vegas Cathedral

The Las Vegas Cathedral

I killed my prologue.  And I’ve hidden the body.

There.  I’ve admitted my guilt.   Wait–you want contrition, too?  Fine.  I’m heartily sorry for my sins, committed knowingly and unknowingly.  I’m sorry for my relentless fidgeting, dying dialogue, needless gestures, redundant redundancies,  talking heads, poisonous predictability, and my bloody backstory. 

Why yes, I had recently attended a Writers Workshop.  Why do you ask?  (Oh, and I’m sorry for using past perfect tense and the adverb in the middle of my response.)

Today I am back at my desk recharged, refocused, and brimming with ideas for my story.  Special thanks to human dynamos/authors Randall Platt and Dianna Love who generously shared their knowledge, their secrets for success and their encouragement.

Detective Mark McNett, from the Las Vegas Metro Police Department, gave a fascinating presentation on homocide investigation.  And I enjoyed the Crime Panel and their advice for realistic portrayal of crime scene investigation, forensic techniques and the interaction between law enforcement agencies. 

Chris Roerden,  author of Don’t Murder Your Mystery:  24 Fiction-Writing Techniques To Save Your Manuscript From Turning Up D.O.A., graciously offered to critique a few pages of my draft manuscript.  Ten minutes with her was worth the price of admission to the conference.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

The most painful, yet informative event of the conference was the anonymous first page read with the literary agents.  Brave souls submitted the first page of their manuscript to be read aloud by a moderator at Friday night’s dinner.  Six agents sat on the stage to demonstrate how they evaluated submissions.  As they listened to the moderator reading each submission, each agent raised their had at the point where they would personally stop reading and toss the manuscript in the reject pile.  When all six hands were in the air, the moderator stopped and each agent explained why they would reject the story.  Twelve manuscripts were read and only one made it to the end of the first page.  Some were rejected within four or five words.  I can only imagine how painful it was to have your darling shredded in front of a crowd of your peers.  God bless those writers for their courage.  I hope they bounce back and learn as much as I did from the exercise.

 As this was my third year attending the Las Vegas Writers Conference, I was not afraid to introduce myself to other writers, agents or publishers.  I even screwed up my courage to sit at the “cool kids” table at the banquet on Saturday night.  And my reward was being offered a piece of Jim McCarthy’s personal cheesecake. (Who brings their own cheesecake to a banquet?)

Best of all, I made another new writing friend, Chara: a sparkly, intelligent, witty full-time Mom and part-time lawyer who lives about two miles from my house.   I can’t wait to visit with her this week to plot where we’re going from here.

Guardian Angel

Guardian Angel

And if all that’s not enough, I spent several wonderful hours with my lovely friend Angel and her family who were in Vegas for a different conference.  Angel and I attended mass at the Cathedral in Las Vegas.  We arrived near the end of the 9:30 mass and waited in the side foyer until the church emptied before joining the parade of tourists taking snapshots and exploring the nooks and crannies.  As Angel and I were discussing the theme depicted of one of the stained glass windows, she pointed out a priest standing near the altar facing a man and woman.  Smack dab in the middle of  the sea of tourists, this couple was exchanging their marriage vows in a ceremony that lasted no more than five minutes.  Only in Vegas…

  Later, Angel and her family trekked across town to my house to have a quick drink before I took them to my favorite pizza place for dinner.   Safe miles on your long drive tonight, Angel.

 

 

Stained Glass Windows in the Las Vegas Cathedral

Stained Glass Windows in the Las Vegas Cathedral

October 30, 2008

Honesty – It’s a struggle

Filed under: About Me,Writing — cindylv @ 12:18 am
Tags: , , ,

Of  course I’m an honest person!  I mean I’ve always thought of myself as being an honest person. I will give back the extra dime if the cashier miscounts my change.  And every April 14th,  I agonize over my calculation of the value of the cast off clothing/household goods I donated to Good Will throughout the year.  How much is a used spatula worth anyway?   

Earlier this week I was listening to a motivational speaker who said something to the effect that if you’re not honest with yourself about the real reasons why you want to accomplish something, and why you’ve failed to accomplish something in the past, you’re cheating yourself.  

Hmmmmmmm….  Am I as honest as I think I am?

I keep a journal.  I scribble away several days a week (in a good week – since I’m being honest).  Sometimes I write about where I am, describing what I see or hear, the people around me.  Sometimes I write about how angry I got at that idiot woman who toodled along at 15 mph below the posted speed in the left lane as if it were her own private expressway. Occasionally, I dump my rage, sorrow, pettiness, selfishness, whininess, loneliness, wishes, hopes and dreams in the pages in between sketches of dialog or setting for a story I’m writing.  Sometimes I write grocery lists and DO NOT FORGET lists in the middle of a paragraph about how it felt to be strapped inside a machine that measured the irregularity of my heart rhythm while some sort of tracer chemical mingled with my blood.  I thought that my journal captured a reasonably accurate snapshot of a few minutes of life in my head.

I lied.

I realized I write with an eye over my shoulder, editing each thought before it has a chance to become fully-realized.  And not just in my journal.  I think with my internal eye constantly watching, criticizing, censoring.  I stop thoughts and change channels to avoid discomfort, to avoid facing reality, to avoid facing the truth about some things I’d rather not face.

I find myself making decisions and doing things based on what other people might think, and suffer along in a cloud of resentment because I couldn’t bring myself to be honest.  It’s an ingrained pattern of behavior that I choose because it’s familiar, not because it works for me.

The result of all this lying is that I’ve become disconnected and I never even knew it.  I don’t know what the truth is, what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, what I want and what I need.  So this morning I sat with my journal open and wrote:  “What do you think?  What do you want?”

And I waited.

When a rush of superficial thoughts streamed in to fill the void, I refused to write them down because I wanted to find what was past that stuff.  The truth.  I thought I should have something BIG to think/want.  Then I realized that was censoring, too.  So I started to scribble the little thoughts (more coffee, world peace, another madeline) and when the little stuff petered out, I just sat quietly and anxiously and waited for IT.  At the end of my writing session I was still waiting.  I don’t have IT yet.  

But I’m asking the questions.

I don’t expect to solve the world’s problems, or hope to make a dent in the problem of Somalia.  All I am looking for is a way to keep my heart and my mind open and not squelch my truth before I even know what it might be.

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