Childhood Encounter With Angels

When I was 8 years old I was sitting in the backseat of my mother’s old green Desoto with my siblings while she drove us through the maze of the Los Angeles freeways. I did not fall asleep, falling asleep feels different. Suddenly I just felt myself being lifted from my body and out the car window and whooshed up to a beautiful place where several angelic beings were waiting for me. They told me to never be tempted to hold things against my parents or blame my father for the things he did that hurt so much (compulsive gambling and angry moods) because I must remember that I chose my parents. At that moment I saw and remembered that I did indeed choose them for the lessons I wanted to learn in this life. Then they told me that we were moving to Visalia, CA because we all had a purpose to fulfill there. They showed me that my mother’s purpose in Visalia was that she had a lot of people she needed to meet there. They said she would have many more friends and people in her life than she ever had before. They said my older brother would not live in Visalia for long, his purpose was not there. My younger sister was going there to learn how to handle prejudice (my father was black) and I was going there to learn to overcome my shyness and eventually to meet the man that I would marry. Then I was whooshed back down into the car and into my body.

Looking back I can say that everything they told me did come to pass. My mother did make more friends and become much more involved with the community than she ever had before. My brother did move to be with our father shortly after we moved to Visalia. My younger sister did have to face a lot of prejudice, as it was a small town of 20,000 then and having a bi-racial family move in was a shocking event for many there. Her skin color was darker than mine so I didn’t get as much of it as she did. And I did finally overcome my shyness completely and met the man I married. They didn’t tell me we would end up divorced, but that meeting with them has never left me and I know that everything that happens happens for a reason. We do all have a purpose in being here.

Room for More

I am in my heart. The softly glowing, warm red walls of a curving corridor are pulsing gently on either side of me. I am standing barefooted on a resilient floor, beside a feature in the inner wall, a slit through which shines a hint of light. My hand, raised to feel it, slips through, so I ease myself into what appears to be a chamber. In a dreamy space that seems much bigger than my heart, I see my children, my siblings, my parents, my mates, my friends, all the people I have ever taken into my heart. They are all still here. There are more of them than I remembered. Over there is a little boy of about three I met only once. He and I played bang-you’re-dead-oh-you-got-me in a boutique in Santa Barbara, while his nanny, who called his name occasionally to make sure he was behaving, did her shopping. I was just browsing, waiting for my friend Fran to choose something for herself.

“I don’t think you want to buy these shoes.” Jonathan had crept out from under a rack of clothes and picked up a pair of pink plastic sandals.
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because they’re green.” He wrinkled his nose.
“You’re right.” I wrinkled my nose, too. “I don’t want to buy them.” In between having to present himself to his nanny, he continued to emerge from between dresses on racks to offer me astute suggestions that made me giggle. I didn’t see him anywhere when Fran and I left the store, but I called out, “‘Bye, Jonathan! Have a good life!” Fran and I were halfway up the block when I heard, “Wait!” I turned around, and Jonathan was running toward me. I swept him into my arms and swung him around, and he hugged me tightly. As his nanny hurried toward us, I whispered, “Thank you!” He waved to me over her shoulder, but even though they disappeared into the store again, he must have left himself, fifteen minutes of himself at the age of three, inside my heart.

There sits a man whose name I don’t know, an elderly man who sat beside me in a counseling group I attended after my first divorce. I was a single mom, lonely, scared, and withdrawn, but I didn’t think it showed. I didn’t want it to show. I never saw him look at me, but he reached over, silently wrapped his hand around mine, so that our forearms were touching, and gently held my hand, and patted it as we listened to the speaker, as if it was precious, as if I was precious, as if he knew me better than I knew myself. I had never known, and I was thirty-one, that a simple human touch could feel so deeply comforting and reassuring. I don’t even remember what he looks like, but here he is, inside this chamber in my heart.

There sits a young man, a musician who put an ad in the paper looking for a babysitting job. Two evenings a week, as soon as Clint arrived, little Eric would tell me, “You can go now, Mom, ‘bye, have a fun time.” When I came home from my counseling group, Eric would tell me all the things they’d done together, and then as my little boy fell asleep on the couch between us, Clint would stay, way past the hours for which he would let me pay him, and let me talk, single-mom-me, until I, too, was sleepy. He had so much room in his heart. I wish I could tell him, as he sits there playing his guitar, what a wonderful young man Eric has become.

There’s Mrs. Raymond, my seventh-grade English teacher, telling me that I could be a writer someday. She was the only person who ever said that to me. And there’s Mrs. Asquith, my eighth-grade history teacher, who during activities period braided my hair and whispered conspiratorially to my only girl friend, another self-consciously shy thirteen-year-old, that she, too, liked people like me better than she did people like so-and-so, naming the most popular girl in school. I loved her for that.

There’s my senior-year English teacher. Wait a minute, what’s he doing in here? I thought I despised him! He decided that we college-bound students needed several weeks’ review of fifth-grade grammar. He explained subjects and predicates, to our unbelieving ears, as if we were foreigners, dividing noun from verb with exaggerated sweeps of his arms, the butterfly stroke of sentence structure. It was his secret desire, we were convinced, to flunk us all — he gave us A-F quizzes on the literature we were reading (one wrong was an F), and on each quiz was one question that we hadn’t covered in class, like, what was Shakespeare’s true love’s mother’s maiden name? One day we wore paper balls-and-chains around our ankles, shuffling into class for yet another hour of rolling our eyes behind his back.

He assigned each of us a day on which we would teach the class the material we were covering. Those who had done so before me had groaned at lunchtime that it had taken them all night to prepare, since we didn’t know until a day before what our assignment would be. He stopped me in the hall one morning to tell me that since so-and-so was absent, I would be the one teaching that afternoon. I watched him walk away, with angry tears burning my eyes at how unfair he was.

So when did he slip into this chamber in my heart? Several of us seniors complained to the head of the English department. He did not come back the following year. Word got around that he’d had a nervous breakdown. And for a moment, my heart must have opened, just the tiniest bit, just enough to let him in, for there he is, pulling compassion from my observing eyes, possibly a distraught and lonely gay man in a sixties’ high school. And there’s Mr. Newman, my senior math teacher, who, seeing me crying in the hallway, told me I could use his math class to prepare for teaching English that afternoon. With one small act of kindness, he restored my faith in human beings.

I see so many people in here, more than I can count. I’m so happy that I’ve found them all in here, and, knowing that they’ll be here, any time I want to look again, I slip back out into the corridor. Running my hand along the smooth warmth of the gently pulsing wall, walking barefoot on the fleshy floor, bathed in a soft red glow, I notice another hint of light, another slit.

I slip through the opening. Inside this chamber, I find myself looking at a beautiful spherical world of blue and white, floating in space. Oh, well, of course, I should have known I’d find her in my heart, her and her entire family of living beings, not only those nestled close, the animals and plants, the creatures of the sea, the rocks and clouds, but those other members of her family, the sun and planets, and her distant relatives, the stars. I can’t remember how many times my heart has opened to take them all in, looking at a photograph of Jupiter, feeling the sun on my shoulders, being greeted by a gentle giraffe in a drive-through park, waving to a family on a canal in Thailand, watching meercats on PBS, standing in awe beneath a natural arch of red-gold stone, getting drenched in a thunderstorm, catching sight of a glowing meteor plunging to earth. This chamber seems to have no walls. I could lose myself in here. I can come here any time, to do exactly that.

I follow the curving corridor around the inner chambers, curious about what else I’ll find in this heart of mine. Haven’t I already found it all? But here’s another glowing entrance. I slip inside. It’s so bright in here, my eyes need to adjust. What am I looking at? Shimmering, floating essences. Are they fairies? Angels? Guardian spirits? There in the background is a crystalline city. I remember coming here, in my dreams. I remember being led into a room full of books, the records of my lives. Some of them were thin, others rather hefty. I pulled one from the shelf and saw a bookmark in it, so I knew how much of this life I had already written.

Aha, this must be where my imagination and the invisible reality interface. This is where I can learn to understand and love even more than I can with my physical senses. Yes, there, I see, more of my visions, my inspirations and aspirations. This is where I first saw my largest painting. I couldn’t wait to put it on canvas. This is where I’ve met my future self. This is where I can come to refine the use of my third eye. The host of healing spirits that her teacher saw hovering around my daughter Fawni, I could learn to see them here. They’re in my heart. I love them for being Fawni’s helpers. The angels whose presence we have felt when any of my friends has prayed for guidance or help, the ethereal essences of souls not in bodies, the forms taken by messengers in my dreams, even others’ visions, Black Elk’s, Vivaldi’s, Rudolph Steiner’s, Graham Hancock’s, are in this chamber. Oh, my, I don’t want to leave. I feel so much love and inspiration and abundance in here. I’m so glad I can come back whenever I want to.

I turn around, slip myself through the pliable opening in the pulsing wall, and listen to the gentle thud-thud, thud-thud as I walk along, bathed in a vermilion glow.

Within the next chamber I see me, every moment of this lifetime so far. I don’t have to wait until I die for a life review. I can look at everything I’ve ever done, right here in my heart, and because of how it feels to be in here, I can love it all, even though I was so often foolish, hurtful, even cruel. As I stand in here, looking at that little girl, that young woman, that midlife-crisis maniac, this post-menopausal crone, I can see that as I embrace all of my aspects, all of my moments, I can live the rest of my life with all of them inside me, nestled in my heart. Well, let me see, that was four chambers, but what’s this, another entrance? What’s in here? Oh, hi, great Cosmic Birther! Oh, look at all those names and faces you have!

Okay, so, have I come full circle yet? I better check into this next one to see. Oh, my. This is where I harbor all the suffering of the world. All the anguish, all the sadness, all the grief. Right here in my heart. Now I know why it hurts so much sometimes. It must be connected to all these other hearts throbbing with what else this life is still about. This is where I make my vow to ease the pain by balancing its weight with joy. Is this it, then? Yes, this next chamber looks like the first… no, wait. There are people in here, but I don’t recognize them. I can’t even see their faces, really. Who are these people? People I haven’t met yet! They’re already in my heart? Oh, it’s good to know this room is here. Always room for more.

*Exerpt from the book “Somewhere Between Here and Perfect”.

My Awakening

Although I didn’t know it had begun, my journey to connecting consciously to my soul purpose started on 10th April 1996. The day my son Jordan died. I can remember the events like it was yesterday. I remember lying in my bath looking down at my stomach and wishing that I could put him back there and make him all better. His suffering was too much and I so dearly wanted him to be well. I was to collect him at 2pm that day and decided to take my daughter who was 1 yr old in to town and buy Jordan a new lighter coat for spring. When I got into town I realized I had no push-chair for my daughter and she had only started walking. In the end I didn’t buy him a coat. I decided I would just go and collect him early.

Nothing prepared me for what was about to happen, but the real strange thing was as I was driving towards the building where he was, I couldn’t take my eyes off of one window in particular. When I arrived and walked in the main area where all the doctors’ and nurses were hovering about. I was totally oblivious to their concern, Natalie my daughter had fallen asleep, so instead of leaving the engine running on the car and going in and getting him. I instinctly turned the car engine off, closed the doors quietly and left her sleeping in her chair.

As soon as the words ‘Jordan has passed away’ started ringing in my ears,I immediately ran up the stairs towards the room the end room with the window that I couldn’t keep my eyes off of.

This event absolutely changed my whole life. I was so bonded with Jordan that it felt like the light had gone out in my life. My heart hurt so much I thought it would break. The only way I could deal with it was to shut it off and make it feel like it wasn’t happening. I went through the funeral process in shock. I was not prepared for him to die. When he died the light truly went out in my life. I had this longing to go and be with him on the other side. I had no interest in continuing my life here without him. I was furious that he was gone. I was furious at God for taking him. I felt the deep agony of my loss. I truly felt my heartache to the depths of my soul. This was the transformational journey inward to my soul.

At the human level all this pain made little sense to me. I kept asking myself ‘what is the purpose of this pain?’ ‘Why is this happening to me?’

Then I had a profound transformational experience in my dining room just 3 days after Jordan’s funeral. I had been sitting outside at the back door watching my daughter Natalie playing in the sunshine. There was this lullaby (baby music) coming from inside the house. I came in and looked all around the floor, thinking it was one of Natalie’s toys, but no. Nothing. I went back and sat outside, but I could still hear it. I was drawn to the top shelf of our unit, where the music was coming from, and I picked up this little pair of china boots. An ornament that I had kept from the birth of Natalie, that had flowers in it initially. I didn’t know they were musical, but the music was definitely coming from the boots. So I turned it over and there was this little switch that had been turned on. No-one else was in the house, the boots were on the top shelf of the unit. At that moment I was suddenly aware that Jordan was there!! I could sense him, smell him. I heard with my inner ear a message very clearly say ‘I’ve come to say goodbye’. I felt something brush my nose. It was the lightest kiss I have ever experienced. But I knew it was a kiss. ( I used to always kiss him on the nose)and his pet name from me to him was (button nose). So I knew it was him!! It all happened so fast I didn’t have time to think or feel. The next moment I burst into tears. I cried from the depths of my being. I didn’t even know why I was crying. I was so overjoyed. I know I lost my fear of death in that moment. On another level I was crying for my loss. I felt my human loss of not being able to hold him, touch him, talk to him on a physical level.

It is very interesting to me that I didn’t feel scared. In the moment there was no time to be scared. Afterwards I only felt the joy and the sadness. I had always believed that being visited by spirit would be very frightening. My experience was completely different to my belief.

Of course, afterwards I began to question my reality and my sanity. Did this really happen? Was it only a dream? Did I just imagine it? Was he really here? Who could I tell this to? Who would believe me? Did I really hear what I thought I heard? Did I really feel a kiss on my nose?

I told my husband as soon as he came home. I wasn’t strong enough in my beliefs to trust my own experience entirely. Ironically the next person I risked telling was the family minister. Gradually I risked telling more and more people.

After this experience I continued on with my life. I went about my daily life wondering about this mystical experience that so deeply changed my perspective on life. I then found that whenever I wondered about him, or even anything spiritual – something would happen.

I would come home to find lights being left on, things going missing, lots of strange things. That is when I decided it was time to look into this a bit more. I started buying books and learning to meditate.

I found that I had a great attraction for angels and had read that you could ask for an angel or a guide to come forward during meditation.

I sat one night and did the breath work exercise for almost half an hour. I was in this altered state and was relaxed, I felt this wonderful seance of peace and bliss. It was like being asleep, yet conscious at the same time. I remember everything was deep black on my inner screen of consciousness. Suddenly a bright blue flash of color startled me awake. I then thought inwardly who is this? What is this? I then heard this deep booming voice say ‘Michael’ and then I thought to myself, hmm, k ‘Michael’, then I heard ‘Arch Angel’. I didn’t hear it with my human ears, I heard it with my inner ears. The voice was so loud it filled my head and whole being. It seemed to resonate over and over inside my head like an echo. There was no doubt about it, it was loud and clear.

Afterwards, I felt extremely tired and had no energy at all. I had this most awful headache and couldn’t understand what was going on. Then a few days later, I realized that I hadn’t grounded, the energy shift was so great that I had become unbalanced. That is when I started to learn how to ground, still, center the mind before meditating.

Thus started on my journey!!

www.jordanstime.com

Oh Heavenly Pizza Dude!

The summer of 2002 was a bittersweet time for my three young children and I. For the first time since my divorce 5-years prior we were able to purchase our first home. The apartment we had moved from was too small for a family of four and when the time came to start searching for a place to live I prayed that somehow God would let me find a house I could buy. I realized that with my credit and the fact that I was a self-employed web designer the chances were slim. The September 11 terrorist attacks were wreaking havoc on my business. Normally I would be doing quite well at this time of the year but business owners were hesitant to spend money on web sites. Needless to say we were struggling financially. The chances that I would be able to find a home big enough for all of us in a good neighborhood at a price I could afford were slim. I rallied my faith and prayed that God would pick the perfect house for us. Knowing that The Lord can do the impossible, I figured I would throw in my request to live on the water for good measure. Hey, faith knows no boundaries.

Exactly two days later I called a number in the classifieds advertising a home available for lease-option. The man at the other end of the phone gave me directions and when I arrived I almost fainted when I saw the home was on a huge lake. A tour of the home revealed a fairly good sized 3-bedroom, 2-bath, 2-car garage home in one of the most sought after family neighborhoods in Palm Beach County, Florida. The home was located in the best school district available. I knew instantly that this is where we belonged. The man who owned the house drew up the contract and I was leasing the home with an option to buy it in one year. He gave me free reign to make any changes I wished. The Lord answered my prayers in a mighty way. The lake the house sat on was a source of peace and at night the moon would reflect on the water making it look like millions of glittering lights. We were in Heaven. This was the place I needed to be in order to gain my strength, draw closer to God and where I always found peace.

In the middle of August 2002, money was non-existent. One of the women from my ladies only group helped me obtain school supplies in order for my kids to start school and even though things looked bad I believed The Lord had led me to this home that was really more than I could afford and I believed with all my heart He would make a way for me to pay for it. One afternoon after picking my two youngest kids up from school I noticed my car was on empty. Actually, it gave a new meaning to the words “on fumes”. I handed my daughter my purse and told her to dig some change out of the bottom so we could get gas. I had searched my purse that morning and gave the kids my last $3.00 for lunch and I knew I had no currency.

My daughter pulled three, one dollar bills out of my purse and said “Mommy, why don’t we just use this paper money?”

I asked her where she found the dollar bills and she told me they were “Right here in the pocket”, this was impossible as I had given them the last $3.00 in that pocket for lunch.

I felt peace move through me and knew God was responding to my unshakable faith that He would provide. On our way home from the gas station, my 7-year old son asked if we could have pizza for supper. My heart broke a little when I replied that we couldn’t afford pizza that night but I would see what I could do for the weekend. My 9-year old daughter spoke up and told my son that if he really wanted pizza he should just pray for it because God could afford it. My son proceeded to lift his little request up to God with all of the faith a child has. For a split second, I envied his childlike faith and wondered at what point in my life I lost the ability to just believe.

During the course of his prayer, my son remembered we were out of toilet paper, “God, could you please send a little extra money for some toilet paper because my mom gets mad when the napkins plug the toilet”.

I was slightly embarrassed that he would ask our Creator, the Lord of Heaven and earth for such a thing. My daughter rolled her eyes and began to lecture her younger brother about the need for some dignity when requesting material things from God.

“Mom, do you think God uses toilet paper?” my son asked.

Is this a trick question? “Well son, I imagine if there is a need for it here on earth He might” I replied. “He probably uses Charmin that’s the really good stuff and it has double layers” he said.

Had he not been so serious I would have burst out laughing, but knowing he was seriously wondering about the needs of God in Heaven compared to those of us on earth, I just let it go and drove home.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. The kids went in their rooms and watched television, my 12- year old daughter came home around 4:00 and as with most pre-teenagers went to hibernate in her room. At about 4:45 the doorbell rang and my two youngest children went to look thru the window to see who it was. Fully expecting them to tell me one of their friends was at the door looking for someone to play with I was not in any way prepared for what came next.

“MOM!! The pizza dude is here!!”…”The who?” I asked, not sure I was hearing them right.

“The Pizza Hut delivery man” my youngest daughter replied. As I made my way to the front door in a state of confusion, my son came running thru the house and stated “It’s an angel…God sent an angel to bring us pizza!!”

I hushed him and went to the door to clear up the confusion as I was sure this Pizza Hut “pizza dude” was at the wrong house.

My oldest daughter graced us with her presence when she heard all the commotion and stated “Louie, you’re a dork, God doesn’t send angels to deliver pizza”.

“Oh yes He does” my son replied.

I was worried about the disappointment he would feel when this delivery boy realized he was at the wrong house but I greeted him and explained that we hadn’t ordered pizza.

“I know ma’am” he replied “Someone called the order in and paid for it with a credit card, we were asked to deliver to you around 5:00”.

I must have been quite a sight standing there with my mouth hanging open in total disbelief with my two daughters standing next to me doing the same and my son standing behind all of us saying “See, I told you God sends angels to deliver pizza!”.

The delivery boy smiled a kindly smile, handed me 4 large pizza’s and told us to enjoy. He left with a wave and I carried our feast into the kitchen still in shock.

The managers and employees of our three local Pizza Huts had no idea what I was talking about when I called them to find out who had been so kind. I spent the rest of the evening absorbing the importance of what had happened to us that day. I realized that the unshakable faith of a child is what I needed to find and hang on too.

While I was pondering these things my son yelled from the garage “Mom! I was looking thru this box and look what I found!! Four rolls of Charmin toilet paper!!”.

I had packed the toilet paper in that box some 3-years ago when we moved from Delaware to Florida. I broke down and cried thanking God for the miracles he had showered over us that day. Two weeks later, I was approached by a woman I had known for sometime, she offered to invest $20,000 in my business to keep it afloat. That summer of 2002 turned out to be one of the best of my life. I learned to “simply believe” no matter what life looks like. God is good and He does send angels to deliver Pizza.

Michele is a 35 year old author and web designer. She now lives in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains with her new husband and 3-children and is the developer of the Just4Ladies.com web community which is dedicated to helping women find their way thru the anguish and pain of a broken heart. She also founded the RequestAMiracle.com community and world renowned HeartbreakUniversity.org where she presents “A Course In Heartbreak” – her own lesson on how to survive and overcome heartbreak by combining faith and knowledge to produce miracles. Her future plans include the launch of the Al Shaddai Heartbreak Retreat.

www.just4ladies.com

Somewhere Is Here

Manual For Maintaining The New World : Chapter 1
Envision the planet as pure energy, white light woven and swirling with earthy pastel colors, aquas, blues, greens, golds, pinks, a shimmering sphere. Laced across and around it is a fine network of black lines and dots. These are the cracks in our planet’s aura. These are energy leaks. They could crack open further, and spread, but we are capable of healing and sealing this web of black lightning. We can draw on all the light in the universe to focus through us, we can become laser beams of healing white energy, and we can gently penetrate the darkness, chase back the shadows, reveal the power of love. Then there will be no darkness. Everyone will live by the First Universal Law: you cannot determine anyone’s life but your own. The Second Universal Law is: while living by the first, you can determine your own life to be the most worth living that you can possibly imagine. The best possible. The best possible! This is the new world, dears. In this world we are all equally authentic, respectful, regarded, and responsible. In this world we are all seen by the color of our light or the melody of our being. In this world you can find the ones you want most to be with, just by letting your self listen, or sniff the invisible wind, or look into the dimension of intuition and attraction. In this dimension you have invisible wings. You can sit at your computer and send your energy to someone in between the lines of your email! You can lean back in your chair and close your eyes and lean through inner space and kiss someone on the cheek. If you feel that your kiss will be well received. Kisses usually are, when they are truly given.

If you feel like it, take a moment to listen to yourself. Are you ready to pull some universal light through you? Can you magnetize it into yourself, just the right amount, the kind that feels like love, and focus that love into a soft beam. Can you sweep that beam out from your heart… out to the whole planet… connect with all the other beams of light, crisscrossing colors of love, waving washes of saffron and lavender and rose around this planet that is now merging into one harmonious energy. There is no central authority. Every individual is self-sovereign. Every human being is safe in every part of the world. This is the quality of the energy you can focus, a reality of freedom and creativity and mystery and dance. A reality of exploration, restoration, innovation. There are no limitations to the magnificence you can experience. Like refracting flashes of crystalline colors, your energies and those of billions of others, yes, billions, are interacting and sparkling and generating the splendors of this new world, this promised realm. We promised this world to ourselves. We came here to help reveal it, and we are maintaining it, just by being our true selves.

Your true self shines. Your true self is a miracle worker. A time traveler. An inner space traveler. Your true self is capable not only of creating your experience, as the limitation was in the old world, but of creating your reality. There is no need or want. Someone somewhere has what you need, and someone else needs what you have. And since we now have mega-antennae, or are using our auric senses to magnetize our awareness to the receiver most aligned with the receiver we open ourselves up to be, we can all share in the abundance. Isn’t this exciting stuff? And doesn’t it just come so naturally once you notice that you are this expanded and free and creative? Isn’t it a dream come true? Heaven on earth? An unlimited arena of possibilities. A world intact, we notice as we descend through the clouds and fly low over herds of wildebeests and wild horses and families of kangaroos and whale pods. A world rich in its variety of forests and mountains and seacoasts and deserts. A world traveled freely by all of its inhabitants, most of whom are migratory, to one degree or another, but none perhaps so much as we human beings. We love to explore, to find a challenge, to learn a different dance, to speak another language, to be of service. Oh, the diversity is remarkable. After all, there are six billion different expressions of individuality in this family. There are so many colors and shapes and blends of bodies and clothing and interests, so many eager to learn, or to teach, or to trade, or to go on a journey with. There are those who love to provide food, and others who love to stay on the internet all day. Everyone knows what they want to contribute, and there is enough for all. It seems like a miracle, but that’s what we promised ourselves when we came here, each and every one of us. Each and every one of us is a self-healer. Every one of us knows where to turn. Every one of us knows when to turn. Every one of us is as needed as we want to be, or as giving, or as retiring, or as forward, or anything and everything, as it becomes us.

When you look at anyone else, you will see so much to love that you will find you’ll want to size yourself and magnetize yourself to some number of others to love – which could be the entire world population, or it could be two hundred people, or two dozen, in varying degrees of fullness, or two, and that could fluctuate. I myself have found a comfortable, even flow, all within about the same degree of connection, with about a dozen people. They fill up all of me, except for the part that is shared exclusively with one special connection, and which part is not a separate compartment, but a subtler intensity or pervasive quality in between my atoms, a frequency that is matched only by this one person and yet becomes a part of the frequencies I share with everyone else, and with the planet, including every living thing on it, which is everything, as we now know.

What will we be eating, you want to know? Our bodies, in this opened state, know exactly what they need, and they communicate their needs to us with an appetite. What is it you are hungry for? Your eyes will look around, and see it, whether it’s a wild herb or a venison steak on legs or a leafy red beet. Oh, man, you mean there’s no McDonald’s here? Well, I don’t know about that. It’s your reality, too. If there are enough of you that really want to spend your days behind the counter of a McDonald’s, and enough of you that want to mass slaughter cattle, and enough of you that want to run flour mills that crush the nourishment right out of those beautiful grains, well, I guess you’ll reap what you sow and more power to you. I can’t empower you, you know. It’s that First Universal Law again. You have to choose to empower yourself. You have to want something enough to make it happen, and then it will. I do, too. I have to want something enough to make it happen. However, I find that I don’t want anything to happen that wouldn’t be comfortable for whoever else is involved. I am only happy when everyone I relate to is comfortable with the way I’m relating to them. If they ask me for more of who I am, and I am comfortable with giving it, I do so happily. If they are happy with what they get, and I’m finished giving, I stop relating, but if I’m not finished giving, I can give into a virtual bank account of gifts, and if the one the gifts were meant for becomes receptive, they will be there, ready for the giving. If that one is not receptive, and there are others who are, and the gift wasn’t meant for only that one alone, then I can generate it into the environment. If it was meant for just that one, then… what do I do with it then? Well, I don’t know. That hasn’t happened yet. Every gift has been well received. I guess I knew they would be. They’re all composed of love.