Posted in faith, inner peace, Life, meditation, Musings, People, spirituality

Redefining Holy

Holy

Holy: adjective; Exalted or worthy of complete devotion as one perfect in goodness or righteousness.

When I think of the word holy, I can’t help but think of churches. Churches and bibles and the feeling of a big, scary God that I neither long for nor understand. A punishing God with rules I can’t reconcile, who speaks in a language that must be explained to me by someone deemed more worthy. The book they say he left for us is one of the only ones I have picked up countless times, only to put it right back down again. The God I think of when I first hear the word “holy” is a God that leaves me empty and cold. This is a God made by men, in their image, a God of religion, control, fear, money. A God corrupt.

There is another God for me, and he has been with me all my life. I say “he” only because that is how I’ve always thought to call him, but it’s meaningless. The God I know is neither female nor male, he has no face that I have ever seen. This God has filled me with comfort in moments of great despair. He carried me through the battles I fought against myself for all those years. He never left me, never turned his back. If ever he was out of reach, it was because I was closed off, because I had pulled away.

Most of September and some of October were hard for me. Looking back, I see that it was me who caused the shift. I stopped my morning ritual of prayer, I stopped meditating. I got caught up in other things- new relationships, vanity, concentrating on the way things look and not the way things feel. I held steady for a while, coasting on the fumes of all the months of work that I’d put in before. But soon enough, I was empty. Nothing left to give, aimless and unhappy.

I’ve come back down to earth again. Sat on my cushion, day after day, lighting the candles and saying my prayers until the words stopped sounding forced, until I felt like I was being heard again. Eventually, the conversation seemed to flow both ways, although it was only I who spoke. My God speaks directly to my spirit. I may not hear him, but the message gets through, loud and clear. Meditation stopped feeling like a task to be accomplished and became, once more, a slow fall into peace. I often sit long after the bell sounds, reluctant to let go of the soft ebb and flow of my breath.

And just like that, all the things began to fall into place. The pace of my world slowed, leaving time to linger over sunsets, time to gaze at the sky and the moon. Just like that, peace returned and I felt like myself again.

I think I will change what I think of as holy. There is nothing more holy to me than the sacred hours before sunrise, as I light my candles and sit on my cushion, in communion with the God I know. The God who loves me just as I am, no matter who that might be today. The God who reminds me that it is not he who must forgive me, but I who must forgive myself. My God does not recognize sin, does not judge my mistakes, does not leave anyone out. The God I know asks me to be gentle with myself when I have been hard on others, helps me to soften my edges, reminds me who I am- no worse and no better than anyone else.

When I think of what is holy now, I will think of the orange sky and the blazing yellow sun as it sinks into the blue-black sea. I will think of the cold, salty air on my skin and the sight of my daughter picking her way across the rocks back to me. I will think of leaving the sunset behind me and turning a bend in the road to find an impossibly perfect moon hanging before me in the sky. Holy is the warm light of the lamp in my dark living room, the scent of incense, the alter on my shelf of stones and feathers, sage and shells. Above all else, holy is the depth of the peace in my heart as I write this, the certainty that I have returned to myself.

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Posted in adventure, faith, happiness, inner peace, Life, magic, meditation, Musings, People, random, spirituality

The Walk

I just glanced at my phone and realized that it is already the last day of the month. It struck me that I am ending this month as a completely different person than the one I was when it started. Well, pretty different, anyway.

I never imagined that having a past life regression would begin a chain of events that would change everything for me. I honestly just thought it would be a really cool experience. Now here I am, getting lost in books about hypnosis and where our souls go between lives, learning about how to do hypnosis myself, thinking very seriously about going back to school in the fall for massage therapy…it seems like a legit way to start out a journey into healing others, don’t you agree? I would not stop there, of course, but something about it has always appealed to me. My browser history is filled with questions for google like “What does a spiritual awakening feel like?” “What is the ego?” or “What happens when you become aware of your ego?”. To be fair, there are also things like “45 easy, healthy, sheet pan dinners” and “Weather in Salem in June”, so it’s not ALL related to spiritual stuff. It’s all about balance.

But it’s the content of my life that is most different. The thoughts I think, the new awareness I have of those thoughts. Thankfully, the initial rush of it all has slowed down to a bearable rate, for the most part- for a while there, I felt like I was barely hanging on as my thoughts exploded in my brain. Did I tell you that when I went to see my therapist, she started asking me suspicious questions like “How is your sleep?” and “Are you eating?” and finally, “Would you say you are having racing thoughts?”. I started laughing and said “Cori! I’m not manic, for Pete’s sake!” She admitted later, on our walk back out of the office, that she knew I would know what she was getting at since I work in the medical field, but she had to ask. I admitted that I would have to categorize my thoughts as racing, but I didn’t feel they were racing in a manic way. And I was still eating and sleeping just fine, thank you.

Either way, the thinking has slowed down. My morning prayer and meditation has become the most beautiful communion with…whatever is out there. I am a big sucker for ritual, and I light my candles each morning, light my incense, and sit down on my big red cushion to settle in. For several days in a row now, I have slipped into deep meditation in the middle of my prayers, and this is very new to me. I have always done guided meditations, and I still do, but I no longer believe it is necessary for me- just nice. Especially if there is a particular thing I want help with, guided meditations are wonderful. But finding I can access that meditative state without guidance, and without even trying- wow! It’s incredible, and easy and natural. I also have this experience of energy flowing through me during meditation that is so intense, it’s almost uncomfortable. I have to try very hard not to shy away from it, but to open to it instead. It’s not something I can explain, but it is intense. I just remind myself that none of this is bad, or scary, or dangerous, and try to relax into it. It is just unfamiliar to me- these are they types of things I would normally scoff at when reading books about other people’s spiritual experiences, and now it’s kind of happening to me, in real life.

But it follows me off of the cushion and into the rest of my day as well. Yesterday, I took a break from work and decided to take Lucy on a quick walk, as we often do. I grabbed her leash and my sunglasses and headed out the door, and from the minute I left the house, it seemed like all my senses were wide open and time almost slowed down- it was the craziest thing. The same walk I’ve taken hundreds of times was completely different. I was aware of the feeling of warmth on my legs from the sun. I could smell every flower and green thing that grew along the way. The colors of every plant, every flower, every leaf, seemed a hundred times more vivid than normal. I could see the bay off in the distance, the white buildings along the curving edge of the ocean, the white sail of a sailboat bobbing along. In the other direction, I could see the rolling hills and the lingering clouds that nestled into the dips of the higher mountains. This vista I had seen several times a day for four years appeared as if brand new to me! I stopped to watch three small birds chase each other from a nearby house to just over my head and then back again. They swooped joyfully and glided and dipped, and I just stood there, smiling like an idiot, watching them. One of them got very, very close to me many times, as if it knew how much I enjoyed watching them and was just showing off. As I rounded the corner to head back down the hill towards my house, I could smell the ocean in the cool air as it blew across my face, and still feel the warmth of the sun on the backs of my legs, I could see all the beauty I described above stretching out all around me, and I just drank it all in. I enjoyed every step I took on the way home, not rushing, just taking it in. I even stopped to smell a big pink rose that hung over the fence of someones yard. Only 15 minutes, but 15 minutes of pure bliss. How often do we get that? I don’t know about you, but for me, not often.

I arrived home with the crazy idea that if I keep heading down this path I find myself on, those moments will grow. If I keep looking for these moments, I will continue to find them. And this idea is pure relief to me. The idea that I can stop participating in the chaos and bullshit around me and connect with something better, something real and beautiful and worthwhile…I mean, it makes me want to cry.

There is so much more I want to share, but here we are, a thousand words in. I’ll save what’s next for another day. Have a beautiful day, and remember, wherever you are, whatever you find yourself caught up in- if it doesn’t feel good to you, there’s another way. It’s probably right in front of you, and you can’t see it. Keep looking.

Posted in adventure, faith, inner peace, Life, meditation, Musings, psychic abilities, spirit, spirituality, the occult

Something Wild is Afoot

art of the feminine
Artist: Emily Balivet

There is something strange and beautiful going on with me…I don’t know what in the world it is, but I am not even going to try to fight it. As a matter of fact, all I want to do is dive into it, explore it, see what this thing is that is calling to me. I’m going to try to explain it to you, and then you will probably think I am losing my mind, but I don’t know…to me, it feels much more like I am finding my place than losing anything.

I think it might have started a few weeks ago, when I caught sight of my (much maligned) nude body in the mirror. For maybe the first time in forever, I thought “Oh, wow, I’m actually pretty sexy!” Which is so strange, considering that I mostly tell myself what a mess I am. But, I caught myself off guard, and those were the words that popped into my head. You know, we are so conditioned, as women, to seek this crazy ideal of perfection in our bodies, and…I mean…I’m 43. I’ve given birth to two daughters. I don’t think I’ve ever seen evidence of an abdominal muscle in my body, EVER, not even at my thinnest. But I am also allowed to be sexy. Even if it feels almost embarrassing to commit those words to “paper” right now. This is what I thought, and how I felt, and I stand by it.

Then, I began this whole campaign to see my life with new eyes, to find the beauty and the joy and the magic in all of it. To really start my day with great intention, to meditate and be centered, to have my eyes open, to bring happiness to others whenever possible. In other words, and this just hit me right this very second, but to stop living as if there was something wrong that I needed to fix, and to start living in all that was already right. I honestly did not realize that was the shift that was happening until I was writing this. Which makes sense why this next thing happened:

So, as I meditated the other morning, I began to focus on my breathing. As I did so, it was as if I were separate from my body, observing my body breathing. Suddenly, I was filled with this crazy, tender, loving admiration for this body of mine. That it did everything I needed it to do to keep me alive, without me even having to think about it, every single day for 43 years now! My God! What a miracle. I had a memory then, of myself as a little girl of maybe six, sitting in the bathtub with my knobby little knees and pale skin, and I realized…that was the same body that I have right now. It has been with me through everything, and it still did everything for me. I’m not kidding, I know how silly this sounds, but even writing about it right now, I am getting tears in my eyes. For the first time in my life, maybe, I just feel this deep love for my body. If you are a woman, especially, you will understand what a mind blowing experience this must have been. I have never felt this way so deeply before. I’m so grateful! Because somewhere along the way, I got the idea that it was okay and normal to dislike my body…and that is so backwards and wrong. Our bodies literally keep us alive. I just can’t hate a part of myself like that, not anymore.

And then…and this is where it gets really weird…I started feeling this urge to build an altar. Like, I didn’t know what for, exactly, only that I wanted to honor this spiritual shift that was happening in me, and I didn’t know quite how to do it. So I ordered some books, and I thought it out…started looking into Paganism and Wicca and straight up Witchcraft (which isn’t what you think, unless you really know) and I just got more and more excited. Turns out, I already had an altar…my little shelves of Tarot card, bits of bone, rocks I love, feathers, sage, little statues that called to me…hello! Guess what that is? Yep, totally an altar. So today, I will be moving it into a more prominent spot in my living room, so that I can meditate there and really explore what it is that is happening with me.

Yesterday, my meditation was full of the most lush, incredible things- pictures that flashed behind my eyes and faded, one into another: Falling flowers, tangled, green vines, starry skies and still ponds, lotus flowers, and a woman with the beautiful wings of a moth. I don’t know what any of it means, but the energy around and within me is incredible, especially in the early morning hours. I can almost hear it humming through me.

It feels like I have broken through something. Like I am finally where I am supposed to be. I don’t know what it is, but I know I am safe here, and headed in the right direction. I can’t wait to see what’s next.

***Note: if anyone has any experience with something like what I am describing, please let me know, I am eager to learn more!***

Posted in fun, humor, Learning, Life, love, Musings, People, random

Careful What You Ask For…

BeCareful-1024x256

Warning: I am going to mention prayer in this blog, so if that makes you feel: Angry, Anxious, Uncomfortable, Defiant, Disgusted or otherwise poorly, you may want to skip this one.

It’s not big news that I believe in God. Not so much the punishing God of some religions, though. I don’t really believe in sin, or hell, or a big man in the sky with infinite eyes, one for each of us, who waits and watches for us to fuck up so that he can whack us one. Nah, that kind of God doesn’t exist for me. What I do believe is that God will listen if we are talking to Him directly, and that He does have a sense of humor.

I was talking about this with a friend of mine last week- both of us, at different times, have prayed for patience. What the result of that prayer was- the answer, I guess,- was that we each found our lives full to the limit of trying, barely tolerable, situations and people. It sure seemed like God was over zealously giving us ample opportunities to exercise some patience that we must already have…

“I prayed for patience a long time ago.” My friend said. “It was horrible. I haven’t asked for anything specific since then- just “Hey man, your will be done in my life, thanks.”

Now, I don’t pray as much as I think I should. For those of you weirded out by this (I told you what was coming, but you didn’t listen, so don’t get all freaked out now) I wish I could explain to you how comfortable I am with my spiritual practices, however meager they are. I feel a real connection to whatever is out there- if you want to call it God, or The Universe, or whatever- when I pray. It helps my meditation practice. It helps me prioritize what matters to me. Prayer is something I can do for other people when there is nothing else. I really believe that something happens when we pray- for those of you who need some kind of proof, I suggest you look up the studies they have done involving prayer over surgical instruments, prayer for sick people who didn’t even know they were being prayed for. Google that shit. It’s real.

I also believe we must be careful what we pray for. Kind of like those stories about the Genie in the bottle who gives you your wish so literally that it winds up totally sucking? Yeah, that.

Yesterday, I sent up a rather desperate prayer to God, asking for help with this out of control nicotine addiction of mine. I have gone back and forth so many times, I feel like a slightly manic yo-yo. “God,” I asked, “Please help me with this! I just need some willingness. I need you to take this craving away from me. Please, oh please, oh pleasy-please?” I whined. I should have known better than to get all whiny and desperate, I guess.

I would like to mention that, at the moment of this prayer, I was feeling the picture of health and vitality. Yet somehow, by noon yesterday, I swallowed and thought “Oh, no. I think I’m getting sick.” By six o’clock last night, I was pretty sure I had a fever. By eight last night, I was straight up SICK- in my bed, fever, chills, pretty sure I was a goner. Guess how much I wanted to smoke, though?

“Hahaha!” I muttered, between chills, towards the ceiling- you know, just in case HE really is UP somewhere.

“Who are you talking to, mama?” My four year old asked me, concerned for my mental well being, even at her tender age.

“No one, honey. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, mom. I’m sure going to miss you.” WTF? Yeah, she really said that. Unless it was a fever induced hallucination. Anyway, between that creepy statement and my fever, chills, sore throat and sweating…I didn’t get a great nights sleep. I also could give a fuck less about smoking. Was my prayer answered?

I guess I’ll let you decide that for yourself. I think I’m going to find some tylenol and go back to bed.