Photography Brigitte Geisler
The Gift of Choice
by Tracy Marshall
ired of the ritual obligation of Christmas gifts, and particularly those gifts that are no more than a compulsory routine exchange, I decided not to participate this year. This decision met with some obstruction initially, but I was determined to accept my choice and to have my preference accepted by those on my gift list from previous years. The next morning I went to town with a spring in my step. Amongst the harried Christmas shoppers I felt an ease, and an unaccustomed lightness inside —for the first time in years I enjoyed the Christmas decorations, because I wasn’t feeling forced to participate in the frantic purchasing of objects. I even saw a Christmas tree decorated entirely in the particular shade of blue that is Elias’ signature colour. There was a single gift under the tree wrapped in that blue, as if to say ‘I aknowledge you giving yourself the gift of choice’. As I walked through the tunnel leading into Gibraltar I passed a busker playing wonderful music on a ﬂute. I didn’t have any change and walked past, thinking that I would give him a coin or two on the way back, but then I worried that he may not be there, so I went back and gave him a note —perhaps to clarify to myself that it wasn’t the act of giving that I objected to, but the assumption and obligation of ritual gift exchanging. Leaving Gibraltar, the original busker had gone from the tunnel but another one was there, playing magical music on a guitar. I stopped to give him some coins, and to look at the DVD’s he had on a cloth on the ﬂoor. He said “They are free, please take one. They contain the message that peace is inside you.” It was like a light going on —literally, the light at the end of the tunnel! The whole idea of gift giving transformed itself into the magic of giving, once the obligations were shed, opening the ﬂoodgates to the joy of spontaneous gifts and random kindness. The free gift DVD has a link to the website http://www.lapazesposible.tv and it says:
“Inside you exists a feeling more incredible than you can imagine. All that you look for, all that you’ve spent a lifetime looking for, is always inside you.” What a gift!
There was a single gift under the tree wrapped in that blue, as if to say ‘I aknowledge you giving yourself the gift of choice’.
Confusion Technique by Éric P. Lemoine
his December 5th would have been the 107th birthday of Milton H. Erickson.
Probably many readers of Wisp have heard of Erickson, who was an inﬂuential figure in the modern developments of hypnotherapy. When I tried to explain to a friend the significance of “wounded healer” (see p.6-7), I was reminded of his life experience which is to me the perfect example of what the term encompasses. Erickson developed many of his techniques of therapeutic hypnosis after bouts against polio in his youth that left him paralyzed; and after he recovered he continuously used them to efficiently curb the chronic pains he suffered from. December is indeed a perfect time to heal our wounds, share with others about the experiences of the year, and prepare ourselves for the one to come. I like to think of Wisp as a gift of sharing not unlike one of Erickson’s famous techniques. To easily achieve trance states, especially in the case of defensive even hostile patients, he noticed that confusion was very efficient. Why is that so? Simply because —even if most people do not realize it— the “subconscious” mind is a fantastic problem solver, and usually when we are confronted with a puzzle too difficult to grasp for the conscious mind, we leave it for the subconscious to resolve in an altered state of consciousness, like daydreaming, dreaming, or trance. Sudden inspirations or epiphanies, channeling even, all come from that part of our consciousness that can be used with great efficiency to assist us in our daily problems. Wisp is not your usual comfortable linear magazine; it may disrupt your automatic patterns and rub you into confusion and altered states. Just welcome the confusion, for it is a hint that some problems are on their way to being solved, and that you are reaching an expanded you.
I am glad I am alive.
Lee Muir Email for inquiries and submissions email@example.com Cover artist Brigitte Geisler Design and publication Éric P. Lemoine
ISSN 1760-4796 Contributors to this issue
Luke Abaya (Canada) James Arteman (USA) Mark Bukator (Canada) Rick Daddario (USA) Dtmodttl (USA) David John Drew (USA) Jean-Baptiste Duret (France) Dale A Evans (USA) Sheila Greer (USA) Richard Kendall (USA) Deane E. Kogelschatz (USA) Eric Lo Chen Hoon (Malaysia) Kenneth McSween (USA) Tracy Marshall (Spain) William Marshall (USA) Reginald Martin (USA) Sharon Mendenhall (USA) Lee Muir (New Zealand) Gayle Nabrotzky (USA) Anet Paulina (USA) Peter Pynchon (USA) Salima (India) Marcy Singer (USA) bob strating (USA) Sabine vom Hoff (Germany) Jadia L. Ward (USA) Fran Wing (USA)
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Never L’8 For The Tooth Fairy by Jean-Baptiﬆe Duret
hat an amusing coincidence that the last release of Wisp of the year 2008 is the 8th issue, and if you follow it through you’ll also realize that the first issue of year 2009 will be the 9th.
Since we’ve been working on this project with my friends, it was like everything was coming into place the same way, we didn’t necessarily plan it but it was appearing when needed or as a surprise. I’m not saying there wasn’t a lot of work involved, because there was in many ways, but when things seemed to be stalling, the motivation fading out or that there seemed to be insurmontable obstacles like the so many different revisions made for the printed versions of Wisp and the never ending mail exchange with the printing company… well, soon enough (or not), all that would appear to be purposeful; we would receive a new article perfect for the waiting issue, we would see different events unfold together as if to enhance each other… Most of the time, we are acting without all the information and what would appear to be delay is only the invisible magical steps of things coming into place. This experience also helped me realize that when you want to do something, you don’t need to use the official way to do it. You don’t even need to make if fit the standards. Our societies and the Internet offer many ways of “do-it-yourself” mechanisms and tools and if you use your impulses or your desires and put at least the slightest effort in what you want to do, you can achieve great things like this wonderful e-zine.
I don’t fear to say that I feel a great appreciation looking at all that has been done on the outside and on the inside to make it real on the internet first, and later make a printed version available so you can have the feeling of it with your hands. I feel a strong and deep appreciation of everybody’s participation and connections because they made it what it is. This past year was special to me. There were some big changes at the beginning of the year in my job and in my personal life. I had also many projects but didn’t know how to manifest them. With the pooling of energy generated by the Wisp adventure, I could feel into the process and as I was participating in doing what I wanted to do in the moment, I realized I could do that for my other projects too; I didn’t need to force myself to do those things that I didn’t like because it would fit in the bigger picture and it would be done in some other way than what I first thought of. These last few weeks I’ve been struggling with what is necessary and what is not, with what you need to do and what you need not, but I was wearing blinders because I was trying to reduce it to the minimum necessary, considering that otherwise it (energy, time, money) would be lost or wasted… There is always extra energy, and it is not bound by space or time. Nature is abundance but we don’t want to see it that way because we are used to think in economical ways and sparing and stocks. This last month of 2008 feels like a time of evaluation of what has been done. It seems to be the perfect time to acknowledge and release old patterns and realize that new ones have grown underneath. We’ve used our baby teeth and now that they’ve fulfilled their nature they’re falling; they’re to be replaced by new stronger teeth, perfectly fitting what is to come.
Wisp is now available in print! To share with friends, or for the simple pleasure of re-reading six months worth of archives in a full color formatâ€Ś ordering info at wisp.focusphere.net
Take a chance to
win a set of the books by taking part in the contest at
A Beautiful Holiday Season by Fran Wing
think of my cards as miniature collages: papers, rubber stamps, and pieces of ribbon or string.
They started as a ďŹ‚uke some years ago when the Christmas cards that we were to send out for our clients arrived with my business partner's name misspelled. We had a whole stack of pre-printed envelopes and it was too late to send out Christmas cards, so we decided to send out Chinese New Years cards in January 2002. The cards were a big hit and the tradition continued until my business partner retired last year. I no longer do the Chinese New Years cards but I sometimes produce New Years cards and also do limited editions of 20-30 handmade cards about 6 times a year, for all of the major holidays.
Inside Editors’ Notes (p.2-4) A Beautiful Holiday Season, by Fran Wing (p.5) Shifting Views, by Dale A Evans (p.7) Sagittarius, the Wounded Healer, Elikozoe, Peter Pynchon (p.8-9) Astro Zeitgeist, by Sabine vom Hoff (p.9) A lesson on seeing what’s not there, by bob strating (p.10) Epiphany, by Sheila Greer (p.11) Photography Jean-Baptiste Duret
Vive la Différence, by Richard Kendall (p.12-13) Discourses on Dreams, by Mark Bukator (p.14-15) Whisper Zone, feat. Rick Daddario, Gayle Nabrotzky and Salima (p.11-12,19-20) Mandala Rose, by Kenneth McSween (p.18) Painting With Light, by Luke Abaya (p.21) My Angel, photo by Eric Lo Chen Hoon (p.22-23) Appreciating Ugly, by Deane E. Kogelschatz (p.24) Stick Figure, by William Marshall (p.25) Prosperity, by Sharon Mendenhall (p.26-28) The Weighty Matter of Energy Management, by Anet Paulina (p.29) Garden of The Bears, by David John Drew (p.30) The Unbearable Lightness of Health Beliefs, by Dtmodttl (p.31) From Childhood Wounds to Lessons of the Soul, by Cathryn Taylor (p.31-33) Queen of Shopping-Spree Glee, by Jadia L. Ward (p.33) My Ancient Egyptian Focus, by Rob Arteman (p.34-35) Science Discovers Some Flaky Spiritual Stuff, by Reginald Martin (p.36) The Essence of Yum, by Marcy Singer (p.37)
by Dale A Evans
“Is That You, Santa?” ne of my Shift-Tools is chalk. Once I’ve evaluated what it is I’m addressing, I’ll often write the word in chalk on my wall as a reminder. If I begin to feel confused about a situation I’ll look at the word and think, ah, right, I’m addressing that, and the situation will all fall into place. A few years back I was addressing to my protection beliefs, my automatic association that everything was out to get me in one way or another. The Big Bad Wolf was after this Little Red Riding Hood/Little Piggy and I must constantly be on guard less I got eaten or my house blown down. I wanted to remind myself that I didn’t have to expect the Big Bad Wolf, that I could allow for the possibility that something wonderful could happen. What is more wonderful than Santa bearing gifts? So, I took out my chalk Shift-Tool and wrote “Santa?” on all of my doors. Each time I opened my doors that “Santa?” would remind me to pause and consider that whatever was on the other side could bear gifts rather than grief. Santa could be at the door rather than that Big Bad Wolf! One of my clients injured herself on the job and was home on disability. She called me to say that the day before she had received a voice mail from her boss asking her to call as soon as possible. It was early evening and she decided to wait until the next morning when she knew her boss would be back at work. She told me how she had spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning, worrying about what the phone call was about. Was she going to be fired because she couldn’t work? Were they going to tell her that her injury wasn’t bad enough to warrant disability? Were they going to lower her benefits? Her thoughts went around and around in circles all night long, keeping her awake with expecting the worst. The next morning she returned the phone call only to be told her boss was unavailable and to call back later. Again, the worrisome thoughts began. Another call later got the same results —her boss was unavailable. By now, her worry had begun to manifest hives. She was itching all over. And as much as she didn’t want to make another call, she also couldn’t wait to get it over with. On the third try, she finally talked to her boss. Her boss asked her how she was doing, told her how they all missed her at work, and that she called because as she hadn’t been at work, she didn’t get her Christmas present. It was in the office for her to pick up whenever it was convenient. She told me, “I was worrying about it being the Big Bad Wolf all night and all morning. I made myself sick with worry. Dale, you really were right. It can be Santa. It was Santa at the door. And he was bearing a gift!”
Dale A Evans is a Personal Reality Coach and Energy Worker at It All Begins Now.com.
November 22nd â€” December 21st
The Wounded Healer Chiron (Greek hand) was by all accounts the wisest of the centaurs, one of the last survivor of his species. Abiding in Mount Pelion, he had many heroes as pupils, Asclepius, Theseus, Achilles, Jason and Heracles. Mortally wounded by Heraclesâ€™ arrows poisoned by the blood of the Hydra, he was allowed by the gods to bestow his immortality to Prometheus thus freeing him from an unbearable pain. He then became known as the constellation Centaurus. He was a master of healing arts, an oracle, but among his many talents, his greatest gift was perhaps his ability to guide his pupils towards knowledge of the Self, and allow them to realize their potentials, and fulfill their destiny. The myth attached to Chiron is encapsulated in the term Wounded Healer, as an epitome of the therapist the most able to heal, for he has been through the very torments he is asked to heal. This same quality is generally associated in astrology to the celestial body named after him. Orbiting in the Kuiper Belt, between Saturn and Uranus, his double nature of asteroid and comet reminds us of the centaur nature.
Wounded Healer, by Elikozoe
Astro Zeitgeist by Sabine vom Hoﬀ Jupiter Jupiter is the ruler of Sagittarius (22 november - 21 december).
am a wounded healer in the best tradition of shamans, who knows a path of suﬀering and being and healing.
I have a wound and celebrate the wisdom it gives me. I honor it — it travels with me and I give it freedom to open and fester and complain and heal. It is an ally. I take a shaman path of experiencing and listening and ﬁnd strength and wisdom in suﬀering and living fully. I see joy and light and being as one — even this volcanic wound with lava ribbons oozing exploding. I suﬀer people and myself ignoring the wound and castigating and delegating it to a trash heap, but it never disappears. It festers and irritates until experienced and respected. It is wisdom and life itself like a volcano opening to the heart core of tenderness and the sun within.
Every experience is purposeful!
his is an insight which is perfectly related to this planet: expanding ‘knowing’ with one’s own experiences and therefore generating an understanding through inner and outer senses. That is widening (one’s awareness). Often ‘knowing’ is understood in a different manner than what is meant here. For instance, you may know the name of the capital of a specific country, but nothing else. That is a kind of knowing which is ﬂat, because it does not include individual experiences. Any individual experience with this city leads to ‘knowing’ in the sense of incorporating the senses through experiences. It doesn’t matter how one experiences, it enhances the understanding part of ‘knowingness’; it can be reading a book about this capital, it can be an encounter with somebody who lives there or has visited the city in question and of course, visiting the city yourself will also enhance the knowing and understanding of the ‘word’ which is ‘attached’ for recognition to a specific place, which is the capital of a specific country. As long as there is no experience (association) in connection with anything, there is no ‘knowing’ in the meaning of understanding, which is related to the planet Jupiter. On the other hand, Jupiter enlarges what is. ‘What is’ depends on the individual choices and already accomplished understandings in any regard. No matter what that is, Jupiter enlarges what the individual concentrates upon: when you concentrate upon lack, Jupiter enhances lack. When you concentrate upon luck, Jupiter enhances luck! Exploration and understanding are very closely connected; what you explore, you experience, hence you understand, hence you are more aware of, hence you become aware of choices. The most significant knowledge is and has always been related to the planet Jupiter: Jupiter is powerfully associated to fire signs, curiosity and courage going hand in hand. Somebody with strong Jupiter aspects will never be stopped by ‘mindful’ so-called ‘reality oriented’ advices. Jupiter reinforces a natural expression of self-trust and of following one’s own impulses… which never leads to disappointment —this having more to do with doubt and expectations, expressions that Jupiter’s energy doesn’t incorporate. Another quite common expression of a ‘strong’ Jupiter in an individual horoscope is ‘optimism’. Underlyingly every individual with a strong Jupiter knows in his or her subjective (or “subconscious”), that there are always choices, that exploration never ends, that everything is movement and a ‘becoming’. So, why not be optimistic? Jupiter supports the evaluation and exploration of experiences individually ‘felt’ as negative. One knows, that there is a purpose, and one knows, that this purpose will be understood after the experience; therefore the great support of self-trust in uncomfortable situations as well as in comfortable ones. Jupiter is reﬂecting the energy that is lending lots of courage, inspiration and support for the shift of our times.
a lesson on seeing what’s not there by bob ﬆrating Her name is Katherine. She was pointed out to me at the wedding reception early in the evening. She was 99 years old I was told, and for 99 she looked pretty good, but there are not a lot of people to compare her to at that age either. She looked frail, and somewhat distant. I avoided her as much as I could, being somewhat uncomfortable around the elderly or infirm, perhaps too aware of my own mortality. Later that evening, I was standing by a table and I felt a gentle tugging at my sleeve. I looked down and there was Katherine, offering me the empty seat next to her. At first I declined and attempted to join the conversations around me already in progress, but conversations slowed, and again I felt the gentle tugging at me sleeve. This time I sat down and thanked her. At first we talked tentatively and politely. Where was I from? How was I related to the others in the room? And she nodded and feigned interest as did I. Then something happened. While talking of my old hometown of Chicago, one of us mentioned the art institute as a favorite place, and something palpable changed in her right then. She told me the last time she had gone there was to see a Monet exhibit and oh!, how she loved Monet and all the Impressionists! And she brightened as she talked. When I told her I was fortunate enough to have been to Paris and seen his Waterlilies paintings we were off on a non-stop tour of Europe together, marveling at the art, the architecture and the history. And she held her wrinkled hands together under her chin as if in prayer. And she spoke of her favorite places. Florence! Michelangelo’s sculptures! And she wondered aloud how he could look at a block of stone and see the wonderful figures waiting to be brought out. Such beauty. Such wonder. Something very strange happened as we talked. For just a little while, Katherine and I were very young. And we walked together through the galleries and cathedrals. We wandered the sidewalks over the canals of Venice. I watched with her as, when she was a child, she would see the schooners come into the bay in Seattle, laden with the gold of the Alaskan gold rush. And her eyes were bright and alive and I hung on her every word. But then it was time to leave. And I looked back at her and she was a small frail lady of 99 again. I thanked her for the wonderful conversation and she thanked me as well. But I think I learned something that evening. I think perhaps now I understand just a little of how Michelangelo felt when he looked at the marble block and he was able to see not what was there, but what was within. All the beauty and strength, just waiting to be released. I also hope I’ve learned to not dismiss those gentle tugs on the sleeve that come along now and then. I would have missed so much if that second tug had not come. So thank you, Katherine. Neither you nor I will probably ever see Europe again, and God knows we will never be young again. Chances are you and I will never meet again. But I wont forget the time I spent with a wonderful young lady as we explored the places we both loved. You are an amazing lady and I’m glad to have talked to you. Thanks for tugging at my sleeve. Les Nympheas by Claude Monet
photography by Sheila Greer
Epiphany by Sheila Greer
lmost 8 years ago I wanted to visit my daughter who lived at that time in Long Island. One day she drove us out to Long Island Sound where we thought we would take a stroll along the beach. We parked her car and got out making our way to the water’s edge where the foamy waves whispered across the mix of broken shells and tiny pebbles. They crunched beneath our feet as we walked and keept our voices low, not wanting to drown out the sounds of the surf and the cries of the gulls and the crunch crunch of our steps. The landscape was littered with driftwood, tangled seaweed and the occasional abandoned row boat. To the right of us rose sheer cliffs where balanced large, weathered houses, stoic and silent, framed by stunted trees, their heads bent permanently away from the sea. To our left the sea with the occasional stray boulder providing places for us to rest from time to time as we forged onward, because of my curiosity to see what was just out of my reach in the curved landscape that lay ahead. “Just a bit farther,” I prodded my weary companion when she took longer and longer to get started again each time we stopped. I had to see what might be just around the corner. My obsession with seeing what might be hiding behind that bend was my fuel.
Photography by Peter Pynchon
Finally my daughter could go no further. Her hips were giving out again and she was experiencing that limiting pain that she has lived with all her life. I couldn’t insist any longer and I left her there to rest while I moved on down the beach. As I got farther and farther away from her, I was also aware that I didn’t seem to be getting any closer to my goal. What first seemed to be a short walk turned into an endless quest. I looked back at my daughter and she was swallowed up in the mist that was creeping in from the sea. I looked up ahead of me and the sheer walled cliffs bent farther and farther out of my reach. I was alone and wondering why I didn’t just turn back. My company was the sound of the surf, the whispering wind and the softness of my steps as now they fell on sandy soil. And then the voice, quiet and so real I found myself turning my head to look at someone not there. “You think you walk alone, but you are never alone,” it said. “You are searching and you will find what you look for, only on your own, because those you think will be with you can’t keep up. Don’t fret over them and don’t judge because they will find in their own way, walking their own path. And those that have to stop for awhile will be waiting for you. Don’t be upset over them, just love them. And remember this, that you are never alone, I have been with you from the beginning and I will not leave you.” And then I stopped walking, looked back at the small form in the mist that waited patiently, squinted at the cliffs ahead and noted that the tide had reached their base and was pounding against their feet with impatient fury, and I turned to retrace my steps back to my daughter. When I reached her she smiled and said, “You didn’t go all the way to the bend?” “Nope, didn’t need to.”
Vive la Différence by Richard Kendall
recently returned to the states after attending an international Seth conference in Pforzheim, Germany, organized by Vereingung der Seth-Freunde.1 The conference began on October 31, 2008 and ended on November 2, 2008. Yet the ripples in the stream of my consciousness as a result of this conference will continue to agitate long after the official date at which the conference ended. I was invited to share some of my experiences in having known Jane Roberts, and Robert Butts, as well as having attended Jane’s classes, and that was the easy part. What was not so easy, and a challenge I continue to work on, is what happens when suddenly one is faced with thirty or forty people each with their own viewpoints and approaches not only to the Seth material, but to the whole concept of how best to explore consciousness and the nature of reality. On a daily basis we usually operate with a given set of beliefs and assumptions, and feel relatively comfortable doing so. We do not go to work and have our beliefs challenged about the nature of reality, and close friends or mates generally share the same views of reality as we do. As a result, sometimes we get too comfortable in our assumptions, and in our view of the world, be it the outer one —or the inner one. And what inevitably happens at these kinds of conferences is that like it or not, you are going to be presented with a variety of viewpoints, interpretations, and approaches.
photography by Tracy Marshall
When I walked into the main conference room that first day, I was greeted by the comment “Are you the one?” I was literally taken aback, and didn’t quite know how to respond, nor was I quite sure what I would be responding to! The one thing I did know for sure was that I was not Neo from the Matrix, so as far as being “the one” I was able to rule that one out rather quickly. I realized the questioner was referring to the fact that I had attended Jane Roberts’s ESP classes and had listened to Seth speak numerous times. Now I have never been overly impressed by that fact, though I certainly feel privileged to have known Jane personally and attended the sessions she gave. But there was no magical osmosis that occurred while sitting in front of Jane or Seth whereby their knowledge or psychic abilities were somehow unconsciously absorbed by me. I remain one of those imperfect humans still struggling to understand various aspects of myself and still struggling to work through fears and limiting beliefs that roam far too freely within the corridors of my consciousness. Only a few moments later I found myself standing between two people who were discussing the notes that Robert Butts inserted in many of the Seth books. One woman said that she found the notes totally useless and just skipped over them; while the other woman stated that she loved reading them and thought they were quite valuable in adding to an overall understanding of the material. I then wandered over to some tables where various translations of the Seth books were on display and for sale. I turned around to find someone standing in front of me who promptly exclaimed that Seth was now channeling through someone in Düsseldorf. She went on to also inform me that the resulting material was not as distorted as the material produced by Seth when he was speaking through Jane. I politely told her that Seth had made a point at the beginning of his sessions with Jane that he would not speak through anyone else so as to avoid the exact kind of situation she was referring to, where someone else would claim to be speaking for Seth and thereby compromise the original integrity of the material. I told her I took him for his word.
The individual then became very indignant and told me in a rather stern tone that she was seventy-six years old and she knew what was real and what was not. I didn’t know whether such understanding comes when one reaches seventy-four, or seventy-five, or at the stroke of midnight the day one reaches their seventy-sixth birthday, but I kept such thoughts to myself. It was obvious there was no point in discussing this further so I exited as gracefully as possible while muttering under my breath. At one point in the conference someone stood up and proclaimed that Jane’s health problems stemmed from the fact that Seth bombarded Jane with too much information and that she wanted to stop the sessions as a result. I don’t recall ever reading such a statement, but it was an extreme example of something that was becoming very clear to me: Everyone, every person on this planet was going to view reality in their own individual way, and if I was going to get upset at that fact, then I might as well go live alone in the forest. The trees and the ﬂowers were not going to express ideas that might be different from mine, so that way I would never have any of my buttons pushed, nor be led to reexamine my own ideas about what I believed, or question myself as to how secure I felt in the beliefs that I did hold. One of the workshops that I attended on Saturday was conducted by Ritchie Dvorak. Ritchie was the one (no, not “the one” in the Matrix sense of the phrase!) but the person who officially invited me to the conference and whose house I stayed at during my stay in Germany. On the surface his workshop had little to do with the issues I have outlined above. About twenty people sat in a room and the first thing Ritchie did was to lead us in a visualization where we were supposed to be standing on a neutral platform and looking down at a scene below us. After the visualization ended we all spoke about what we saw and then the fun really began. There was a canvas about fifteen feet long and four feet high stretched across the wall. Near it there was a table filled with all kinds of paints and colored chalks. Each of us was to paint the scene we remembered from our visualization a few minutes earlier. We were also told that it was important that we didn’t worry about whether we were a good artist or a bad artist, and there was no right or wrong way to do this. I was relieved to hear that for stick figures stretch me to the limit of my artistic abilities. So we all got busy and I was having a ball with trying to paint this house I saw during my visualization. I picked a corner of the canvas to use as my spot and was on my knees happily drawing, unconcerned that my hands were gathering almost as much color as that being put on the canvas. I literally felt like a child; found myself in touch with the feeling children have when they are exploring reality. Children quite naturally interact with the world, and test their abilities while doing so, but without the added and unnecessary worry of whether what they produce will be right, or wrong, or true, or false. More importantly, they do not concern themselves with how their creations compare with the creations of others. We save such a mindset for when we become adults, often abandoning the natural wisdom that the child so easily maintains.
All of a sudden, click, click, click, the light bulb goes on and I understand something. I have a right to paint my picture of reality in my little corner of the universe in whatever way I want. And so does everyone else! That doesn’t mean I have to adopt the pictures that others draw, nor give up my own picture in any way, but to seek to defend my picture as right and theirs as wrong, or mine as true and theirs as false, was to create a friction and discordance between myself and others that just didn’t have to be there. The beauty of the picture that resulted did not come about because we all saw reality in the same way, but came about precisely because we all didn’t see reality in the same way. It was the differences that added the necessary depth and richness to the picture to bring out its inherent beauty. As I sat on the plane going back to the states I thought back to the seventy-six year old lady who looked me straight in the eye and told me that she knew that this other Seth was the real thing and how dare I doubt what she was telling me. In hindsight I would have responded differently, less abrupt, and yet still honestly expressed my opinion. Because in hindsight I realized I missed something very important in the exchange that took place between us. I missed another look in her eye. A look that spoke of a woman who at seventy-six years old still had the grit and the perseverance to keep searching for answers. I missed the courage of an individual to keep digging for new answers when for many others, regardless of age, it was just simpler to accept the ready-made answers society handed us like recipes on the back of some cereal box. I missed the humanity that unites us all and is far more important than arguing how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, or whether Seth is speaking through others or retired in Florida sipping Piña Coladas by the ocean. I missed an opportunity to connect with a lady who probably could have shared some very interesting stories about her life; stories I will now never know. Back in the United States, I continued to think about my experiences at the Seth conference in Pforzheim, and on deeper levels than I had felt before I knew that all of us were truly united in ways that had nothing to do with whether we speak with a German accent, an American accent, or whatever accent might accompany our speech. We may come from different countries, and grow up in different cultures, but where we truly come from has nothing to do with geography or language or any outer accoutrements or characteristics. There is an inner canvas that we all share from which we paint our imperfect pictures of reality that in their own way are actually quite perfect. There is a symmetry that transcends all differences and I was reminded of this during Ritchie Dvorak’s workshop. Jane Roberts once said if you begin to see people merely as beliefs, instead of as individuals who hold beliefs, then you have really lost something valuable in your interactions with others. I had lost something valuable, and while I had to go a long way to recover it, the trip was well worth it!
Discourses on Dreams by Mark Bukator
MARK: Yes, I remember that.
s many of you know by now, Serge Grandbois and I recently published a book called, “Discourses on Dreams”. I wanted to take the time to share with you some of the stories behind the book, as well as to give you a peek inside its covers. This is our ﬁrst book and it represents a three and half year arduous journey. It may come as a shock to many of you, since Kris did most of the talking1 and the stories appear to write themselves, but I can assure you that it was much harder than that. I have never written a book before and when we ﬁrst set out to write this one, I had never written so much as a blog before. I had no clue how to put the chapters together, how to thread the various conversations together or how to insert my own thoughts and experiences. These were talents that I did not know existed within me and scared the living daylights out of me. The REAL difﬁcult part of putting this book together though was that the journey itself changed me. Each walk that we took, each conversation that we held affected me in ways that I could never have imagined. Not only were we writing a book, but I was also exploring the material, experimenting with the concepts and striving desperately to apply the knowledge and wisdom that Kris shared with me. I am not the same person now that I was then due to the profound changes and great strides that I have made as a direct result of these discourses. It gives me great pride to share these experiences with the readers and to assist others in accelerating their understanding of whom and what they are, as well to help others understand their own role in conscious creation and the magniﬁcent powers that they wield. Disclaimer: Those who venture forth and read this book, like myself will be changed. Your dreams will change and the way that you look at dreams will change. This book contains many powerful tools and resources, many of which are unique to this book and to Kris. Now, if you are all willing, I would like to open the book up to Chapter 24 and invite you to come along with Kris and I as we take a walk on September 09, 2007. The chapter is called, “Dream Associations” and it details one of the many resources available to all of you wonderful dreamers.
1 Serge Grandbois is a trance channeler who channels Kris “an Energy Personality Gestalt.” Mark, Serge and Kris can be listened to live on ThatRadio.com every Thursday.
KRIS: In one of the recent dream discussions, we spoke about utilizing a grid as an aid to focus upon other aspects or areas of a speciﬁc dream or any dream, as well as utilizing it in many other areas of life.
KRIS: There are also many other kinds of tools. And one of the most interesting requires the utilization of both the conscious mind as well as the dream state itself. And this is simply based upon the idea that you review your dreams, dream recall, dream material and adventures and so on, strictly from the point of view of the conscious mind, after the fact. As if, somehow or other, the dream itself happened perhaps to someone else and you merely happen to be at times a witness, at times a participant, at times both. And though you may on many occasions still recollect and reconnect with the emotions and feeling tones of the dream, you still view the dream itself as if you are experiencing something quite separate and outside of your ordinary selves’ experiences. MARK: Right. KRIS: This is perhaps the standard perspective on dreams and dream recall. The description of utilizing the grid can begin to change that somewhat, and it can begin to bring in a diﬀerent kind of experience concerning your dreams. And what we are proposing then, would take this up to another level altogether, engaging the dreamer from the conscious perspective directly with and within his or her dream experience. Not as if he or she is something separate from the he or she that he or she is within the dream, but that this is truly an expression of themselves wholly, completely and holistically. This will broaden the horizon of awareness in the dream experience from the conscious perspective, and give you an entirely new deﬁnition of a point of view concerning what it is you do within your dreams. And it is actually far more important when you get into this kind of dream exploration to cultivate a wider and wider conscious perspective upon the dream activities, because this will completely and radically impact your consciousness, your sense of yourself, who and what you think you are, and your abilities of consciousness. The process is relatively simple, emphasis on the word ‘relatively’, as for some people this might prove slightly more challenging than for some others. But altogether the degrees of satisfaction and fulﬁlment derived from this small experience can indeed be much deeper than anything we say implies concerning the experience itself. Of course it is helpful that you already keep a dream journal of some kind. Keep an archive of your dreams and do know that when you archive your dream with pen and paper, or however you do it, perhaps with a recording device of some kind, remember that you are already interpreting that experience from the conscious mind’s perspective and it is quite easy to not notice how much of the dream itself you have already censored. And this process also requires that you do keep an archive of your dreams, and you would engage the process immediately after archiving your dream on that day or morning. Thus immediately upon taking down and archiving as much of your dream as you remember, keep focusing upon the feeling tone, the emotions and anything else of the dream experience that you can hold in your awareness. And from that position of holding as much of the dream in your awareness, allow and even request of your subconscious mind, allow dream associations to begin to ﬂow. And by this we mean, for instance, if you have dreamt that you went on a merry-go-round in an amusement park and
do remember we are not looking for interpretations of symbols here, but there is something else underlying the notion of dream interpretations, because that is often a powerful stumbling block for dreamers. Thus we are looking to go beyond the stumbling block of dream interpretations at his time. A diﬀerent kind of interpretation will make itself known rather rapidly. And at this point in this process, what we are looking for is in line with the idea that you may have dreamt of seeing a merry-go-round, of being on the merrygo-round, of hearing a merry-go-round; whether in an amusement park, in a museum, in a book, on a television program, in a ﬁlm, someone talking about it, and any other dreams that may have had similar elements, to begin showing up, any other threads with similarities to begin showing up. Perhaps you may then ﬁnd, in your mind, the recollection of a dream you had three days ago, ﬁve weeks ago, two years ago, slowly begin to show up in your awareness. There may be subtle diﬀerences, and there may be even vague notions of similarities but nonetheless do not dismiss them, incorporate them and note those down. There is no need to go looking them up in your dream archives per se, but allow similar associations, even if vague, to become part of your present awareness, ﬁlling up the landscape of your mind with a little collage or montage of various imagery also related. Perhaps within another dream you saw a small pony, or perhaps in another dream you saw an amusement park where you would normally expect to ﬁnd a merry-go-round. Or perhaps in another dream you saw a little girl’s bedroom and on her dresser there was a miniature merry-go-round or an image of a merry-goround, or perhaps a Barbie-doll house with a merry-go-round. All such imagery is quite legit and allow it to come to the surface following association after association, thread upon thread, letting it go where it takes you. Follow the lead. Do you follow so far? MARK: Yes, I do, in fact I have an example. A common symbol or a common element in many of my dreams is water; the Niagara River, Chippawa Creek, waves, canals. Sometimes I’m in the water, sometimes I’m in a boat, sometimes I’m just looking at it, but it’s a very common occurrence. KRIS: Indeed. Now the idea is to allow all of these things to start popping up into your mind. Take note of all the various feeling tones that are expressed with the various imageries. Some may indeed be very similar and others diﬀerent. Take them all in, do not dismiss or discount anything. And if you can, note those down as well. You may even start bringing up images and experience within your living context that may have brought about dreams later on or that may also be associated, somehow or other, with dream events. But perhaps you will be reminded of a dream of a merry-go-round that later on led to an experience where you saw the very same merry-go-round as you saw in your dream ﬁrst, and in your living after. And allow those kinds of connections to also come to the surface. That is the ﬁrst part of these experiences… The rest of the method can be found in Chapter 24 of “Discourses on Dreams”. For more information or to purchase your copy, please go to www.krischronicles.com. Sweet Dreams! Photography Mike Green — http://www.milor.net
a circus birds cartwheeling above the ocean Photo montage haiga, by Rick Daddario
Haiga (or “haiku painting”) Like haiku, haiga focuses on simplicity. Economy of words, palette of feelings…
Babaji He makes his daily rounds, dragging sacks and bags containing whatever he found - empty bottles, papers, rags. His eyes are always sad, hands clasped, raised in prayer. Children torment him if they’re bad; good ones pretend he’s not there. Like him we pass each day gathering our things, not realizing what they weigh. The ego stubbornly clings to its identity. As if in a trance, The soul lives in captivity, blind to its own existence. Salima
Whisper Zone Photography Tracy Marshall
Mandala Rose Step by Step by Kenneth McSween
Possible by Choice, by Rick Daddario
Rick is an artist living in Hawaii, enjoying creating on a variety of formats and materials such as ATCs (see Wisp #3), postcards, paintings, mixed media, sketchbook and journal pages, haiku and haiga and some of the other 10,000 things. Itâ€™s more fun that way. Some of his websites can be found at http://wrick19.multiply.com http://more19planets.blogspot.com
am not twenty ~ No longer lean, smooth, unmarked. Now my body is strong,
still lithe,under a cloak of yielding softness. My skin is not pearly in winter. Nor flawlessly unlined and brown in summer, from idle days spent perfecting just the right look. My scars, my cicatrices, both inner and outer have been earned; often suffered for. Reminders of where I have been. I am not a girl who falls asleep to dreams of possibilities. I am a woman who lives them. Building on adventures lived, planning explorations yet to come. My body, although there is more of it now, holds my soul. Be kind. As I am learning to be.
Gayle Nabrotzky 08/2008
Painting with Light Literally and figuratively
hotography in the ’60s was very involving to say the least and extremely interactive; between the photographer, the camera, and the subject and made more complicated by the adage “whatever the angle is, there is a better one.” Every session, every event, excited one’s passion, and it was as rewarding as it was exhausting. Because photography could be quite expensive especially for an unemployed student, the choices in the medium were dictated more by circumstance. That being said I stuck to black and white photography, rationalizing to myself that it was more dramatic but also it was affordable and technically the limit of my photo processing know-how. But indeed black and white photography had a drama all its own. That the photographer has to balance a range of gray scales by manipulating the aperture and speed of the camera in relation to the ASA of the film, and emphasizing an area in the subject by factoring the depth of field, is enough to turn the photographer’s perception completely inward and remain there at all times. Without becoming aware of how it actually happens, the photographer becomes an observer — detached from his subject, living in a mental construct of calculations and angles, painting life with light, and unintentionally ceasing to be a participant in the life around him. This is how I found myself in “My Black and White World.” A lonely world you might say, but it was a satisfying world; it was artistically rewarding, passion-consuming, insight-driven, and most of all you could not feel the ‘hurts’ in life because you were detached from it. But one could still say I have the benefit of observing it, and pretend to experience the ‘hurts’ vicariously — a photographer’s neat make-believe life that comes with its own perks, a sort of untouchability, unreachableness, a shielded world. And having embarked on a life of celibacy, this shield served as barrier enough for insulation from the beating arrows of love and the consequential complications of romantic involvement. The unfolding drama, a nation in turmoil, a history being written daily from the center Manila and expanding to the rest of the islands in the ‘60s and early ‘70s was every photographer’s dream scenario. I happened to be in the periphery of this dream, nibbling as it were at the fringes as I ran around making sure not to be caught in the tempest.
P.S. A nation in turmoil in the ‘60s gave way to the imposition of martial law in September 1972 by an embattled government. Many were arrested and imprisoned and the atmosphere was thick with fear mongering rumors and people panicked, scared. Under this gripping fear of uncertainty, and in midst all the confusion following the declaration of martial law, a sole lab worker, fearing the printing press and the commercial photo laboratory we used might be raided by the military police, took it upon himself to cleanse all evidences the lab has in association with the opposition movement. He fed all negatives, pictures, printed materials related to the opposition movement to the company’s incinerator — my personal holocaust. Just like that all my reconstructed reality faded in smoke, “My Black and White World” closed and I reintegrated a participant in life. Not long after I founded a boutique type advertising agency with its own printing press and staﬀ photographers. I transitioned from art to business, and have remained nostalgic ever since. Unfortunately the only evidence I have of “My Black and White World” that survived is a self portrait. It is now fading, but framed beside contemporary art pieces in my living room to remind me of where I have been.
In the tempest, in front of Philippine Congress as I focused with a telephoto lens on the student leaders making their speeches, I was surprised to recognize old faces from grade school, classmates, in fact, leading the charge. And as it later turned out, not so surprisingly, they were all protégés of a friend Prof. Charlie A, the ‘godfather’ as it were of student activism in the Catholic Schools, and who was also a professor at their college then. In the crowd were more friends and acquaintances, everyone milling around feeling good to be there and exchanging stories and pleasantries. A new world was being born, and was unfolding, full of excitement, expectation, and promise. A world I started documenting for a couple of years taking me to so many places, under some very strange circumstances. I met very interesting people, encountered dramatic events, saw the seedy side of life as well as the uplifting and the inspiring. The stage was set, the players ready, the action began, click, click, click., an avocation came to life. Painting with light with a camera produces images that in turn show light inside to awaken what is originally there, challenging a response to the unfolding Now. A symbiotic, iterative relationship between the world and the beholder, incessantly producing reconstructed reality on paper. When viewed by the beholder, it again reproduces reconstructed images within. And the process starts all over, in an eternal cycle called Life. Paint me a picture, paint me a life, mister photographer, pretty please.
Luke Abaya ’11’19’08 Wisp e-zine
Photography by Eric Lo Chen Hoon
All Godâ€™s angels come to us disguised. James Russell Lowell
Appreciating Ugly by Deane E. Kogelschatz
t was back in 1994, some fourteen years ago. We had found our beloved cat dead and we were just getting over the trauma of losing a pet. A veterinarian had recently opened his practice, the first for our sleepy little southern town of Cottonwood, Alabama, and we had become fast friends. A wonderfully sensitive group, Bruce and his staff called me in for coffee one morning and presented me with a surprise. It was a pure white kitten. Warm, cuddly and with a beautifully shaped head and face, it was perfection in appearance with the exception of a black spot in the middle of its face. It was a gorgeous cat with an ugly spot, strategically placed so that it looked like a smear, and for a moment I was repulsed at what I considered a disfigurement. I thought the black area on her face was ugly and faulted her whole look. I didn’t want her but had to accept her since she was the doctor’s gift to us in response to the loss of our other cat. As she grew, Smokey sort of grew on me but not very much. I simply didn’t like her looks and her black spot was getting larger as well as beginning to color her ears and part of her tail. All this while I was having momentary thoughts about what was ugly and what was not, and half-way wishing she would disappear. She granted my wish when she was about a year old. We live out in the country next to a swamp and I felt sure she had been done in by a snake or one of the wild dogs that roam the area. It only took a day to get to me. I knew deep inside that Smokey sensed my energy, knew she wasn’t wanted and had responded to that by leaving. This challenged my beauty/ugly values and I began to realize what an ass I was, causing her to leave simply because of the markings on her face. I looked in the mirror at my own face and realized how superficial an ‘ugly’ opinion is. I began to feel really bad about the situation and began a search for her, up and down fence lines, in planted pines, and shorelines of the ponds. No Smokey. We watched for the circling of buzzards having found one of our pets that way, but only saw some too far away to investigate. I continued to feel worse about this event I had created with its emotions and sadness. Most of all, I couldn’t stand knowing that Smokey knew full well that my dislike for her face had sent her off to a death in the swamp.
Smokey had been gone two months or so and I was out in the garden leaning on my hoe, resting. I glanced down my fence line and spotted a little blob of white, far away. Wondering what it was, I stared at it, squinting, trying to see if it was really moving or not. It was. I just stood there watching and finally realized that it was Smokey, walking very slowly my way. When she got to the the end of the garden I walked over to her and picked her up. She was in terrible shape and looked like hell. I confess to a tear. We nursed her back to health and she became a true member of our family. It is now some fourteen years later and at a regular check at the vet’s, Smokey received a death sentence. Her kidneys were failing and the levels of toxins in her blood were three times normal. Bruce recommended that she be put down as she had only about two weeks to live and death from kidney failure was extreme and painful. But I just couldn’t do it. The next morning in bed, I watched Smokey lying between Sandy and I, and I began to think about her choices as well as mine. Just for the heck of it, I thought I would attempt a communication with her and see if we could reach an agreement for her to stick around for another year, just to show me, for my personal benefit, that such a thing could be done if we mutually agreed. Well, it didn’t appear to be much of a communication but my sense of it was that she agreed. I told my wife Sandy and my veterinarian friend Bruce what I had done and why. Both devout Christians, their
disbelief was obvious, but they humored me anyway. Within three weeks of her diagnosis Smokey appeared fully recovered. She was back to eating well and had put on weight. She now appeared as normal as she ever did. Smokey is gone now, some seven months after her death sentence. She had started to fail again and there was nothing I could do. When I returned from the vet, I walked back to the garden and stood in the same spot, looking down my fenceline where I had seen her walking toward me as she came back home that day. This time I saw her walking away, stopping brieﬂy to turn and look at me, making that familiar meow sound through a purr as she so often did when I petted her. The tear I had back then returned, joined by some others. I waved back and that was it. Smokey taught me a lot about beauty. When people would comment on her face I used to tease and say that as she was chasing one of those tar trucks, it put on the brakes and she couldn’t stop. Now, everytime I see something that in the past would have seemed ugly, a thought pops out thanking her for providing me the experience that there is nothing ugly except what your perceptions make it. I understand, now, that what some would call ugly is simply a different kind of beauty. Thank you Smokey. Love, Deane
Fillermen and Eggletons, picture by Tracy Marshall
The problem I had and still have with our conception of God is that he really is too small — only slightly larger than us — and his behavior at times is completely incomprehensible. We can all think of examples, the Holocaust being one. But, consider this more mundane example. I have four children that I hope will eventually grow up in their own image, not mine. I don’t require their worship or their adoration. I don’t require their appreciation for the things I do for them, although I get it. I don’t even require that they love me, although I know they do, each in their own way. Who among us would condemn their children to a lifetime of imprisonment for not loving us enough or for breaking one of our rules? Caligula, Nero and Sadam Hussein are sure bets. But God? Individually we all have a relatively well-formed idea of what God is, but we have even stronger ideas of what God requires of us. Unfortunately, these beliefs have kept us at each other’s throats for millennia. Two beliefs seem most to work against us. They are the beliefs in Separation — God is there and I am here — and Perfection — God is good and perfect, while I am fallen and damaged. That we hold God to be separate from his creations forces us to see ourselves as separate from all that we perceive. We see ourselves as little more than a defective product, a creation gone bad, so to speak, rather than individual manifestations of a divine unity that has unfolded itself as the universe.
The Stick Figure by William Marshall
used to go to church. I don’t anymore; not because I don’t believe in God, but because the picture my church painted of God was too small. That wasn’t my thinking when I quit the Church forty years ago, but it is my thinking now. Back then, science was largely responsible for my splitting, what with the idea that everything arises from material causes. It made sense to a sixteenyear-old mind steeped in the scientific tradition. Who needed the superstition of a God when we all knew that the universe was nothing more than a well-oiled machine? Every effect has a precipitating cause, the belief goes. But, the thought of God, like a genetic code, remained in the deepest recesses of who I am. I guess it was a little like a maple tree going into hibernation for the winter. Strangely enough it was science, specifically quantum physics, that brought the Spring and the maple tree back to life. In the quantum world of Lilliput things don’t work anything like they do in our large world of Brobdingnag. Trust me.
My toe, although not the entirety of me, is still a part of me. My DNA is as complete in my toe as it is anywhere else in my body. The loss of my toe diminishes the entirety of me. It is easier to see this connection because the toe is attached to the body, the body being a unity. But, it is no big feat for a bigger God than the one we know to make itself into all that there is. Boundaries disappear the closer you look. Boundaries are an artificial construct based on the limitations of our senses. When you consider yourself a toe in the metaphorical body of God, then losing a finger takes on a completely different meaning. It’s all God. Followed to its logical conclusion the elimination of any of us diminishes all of us. The idea of perfection, “Be perfect as I am perfect,” accentuates differences. Is my toe any more perfect than my finger? Is your nose any more perfect than my nose? Is your way of being any less perfect than mine? If there is no separation and everything is God rather than a creation of God, then it follows that everything is already perfect, the good, the bad and the ugly. When a Muslim kills a Jew; when an American kills an Iraqi, and when one of us takes his own life, ultimately it is because of a belief in separation, perfection and right and wrong. I am alone and I am not enough. The ideas of separation and perfection allows us to say, “we are right and you are wrong,” “we are good and you are bad,” and “life is not worth living.” The ideas of separation and perfection lead to non-acceptance of others and more importantly, non-acceptance of self. If there is no separation then there is nothing to be redeemed. If there is already perfection then we are — all of us — already redeemed. If everything that is — you, me, them, us, a tree, a duck, a stick — is not a creation as from a magic wand or Godlike finger, but rather an unfolding of God; then our current concept of God is equivalent to a child’s drawing of a stick figure. To conceive of a more complex God is to conceive of a more complex us. When I can see the eyes of God looking back at me when I stare at your face then I will know that your face is already perfect. I will accept you as you are. I may not like you, but I will not judge you. You are already perfect and a part of who I am, and life is infinitely more than we have imagined.
Prosperity by Sharon Mendenhall
rosperity is an interesting person, to say the least. She isn’t very attractive. Her hair is thinning on top because when she was small she used to pull it out. But Prosperity cured that, and she doesn’t seem to be all that self conscious about her hair anymore. Prosperity is also a lot fatter than she should be for her age. But I’m not sure about her age. I mean, she’s a teenager, but she talks like she’s my grandmother sometimes. I don’t understand Prosperity, not at all. But I’ve come to love her anyway. I mean really love her, like I wish that sometimes she were mine. All mine. And every time I call 1-SLF-AWRENES and make it all the way through Faith, Trust, and Acceptance to a few moments of speaking to Prosperity, I realize that as soon as I love Prosperity to the point that I would like her to be on my doorstep everyday, she will be mine. All mine. You see, I’ve know Prosperity all her life, I just didn’t really like her until recently. When she was a baby, she was the ugliest thing that crawled on all fours. And the automatic judgement is that I believed that it was wrong to hate a baby. But this baby would have given Jumbo, Dumbo’s mom the heebie jeebies. Besides looking quite like a little toad with a thumb in her mouth, and a finger up her nose, portions of her hair was missing in clumps, like she had just been through some serious chemo. She had whining down to an art form, and couldn’t drink a thing without drooling. And it was very hard having
a conversation with Prosperity’s mom, while Prosperity was on her lap, without thinking, “I wonder what this tub of lard is going to look like in another few years.” Well, the tub of lard grew up, and she looks like a much, much, bigger tub of lard. It sort of takes your breath away. I mean, this child is taller than most men are, and rounder than my house. She ain’t never goin’ to the prom. I mean, a prom dress that big doesn’t exist. And as I look at her now, I suppose she is of that type orientation where one chooses to never get married. But I always believed, that if you choose not to get married, that meant that you was still lookin’ a lot like Cindy Crawford, but just making some bad relationship decisions. It didn’t mean that one would choose to look like Dumbo, with very slim odds for a meaningful relationship. But I’ve begun to reconsider that belief. And I reconsider it every time I talk to Prosperity. She has a sweet voice, you know. And a shy demeanor. And of course, I’ve just had that long conversation with Acceptance, and I’m starting to understand her too. I mean at first, all Acceptance would say was, “Look at yourself! Look at yourself!” I wanted to march right down there and punch her in the face on the side where her mouth didn’t crook, and maybe that would straighten both her and her mouth out. But the more I talk to Acceptance, the more I understand her. She’s telling the truth, and her attitude is a reﬂection of my attitude. Attitude reﬂects back a lot more than anything else. Attitude is a belief,
and the belief causes my perception, and then I perceive an image in the mirror. And if I don’t like that image, whose problem is it? I would recommend that everyone spend a lot of time talking with Acceptance, even if you don’t like her at first. Talk to her to the point where you don’t really care if she patches you through to Prosperity or not. I noticed that I started to have a lot more respect for both Faith and Trust. For a while I believed they just sounded a lot like that New Age religion, where everyone hugs, spouts a few well-worn creeds about loving everyone, and then spends the rest of the evening concerned about whether the dairy products actually touched the organic vegetables. Faith and Trust are not only beautiful, but also innocent. And that’s how they want me to be. Innocent, like a child who only lives in the now. So by the time I do get to Prosperity, I have so much love for her, I forget about all those previous judgements I made. Prosperity has dedicated her life to working the help-line. Although she is still way too shy to get an office of her own, I understand that too. You have to coax her, like you would a tiger from its den. I guess this is why one has to talk to Faith, Trust, and Acceptance, before talking to Prosperity. I think Acceptance set it up that way. She’s really inventive. She designed the House of Mirrors at the Company Picnic entrance. It was her that thought everyone should walk through the House of Mirrors before moving on to more interesting things. She’s right, of course, begin every endeavor with a little self-reﬂection. So having Prosperity be yours, all yours, is an emotion. You have to want and love her first.
Encouragement and Approval Encouragement doesn’t have a phone, or if she does the number is unlisted. I guess it’s because we all really love Encouragement like she was a movie star. I think, if someone like Jodi Foster actually looked me in the eye, and said something about having read my book and really liking it, I would pee down one leg, and instantly become a writer with a total loss of adequate words. “Duh, gee, Ms. Foster, thanks for the words of encouragement.” So although we seldom have the opportunity to actually speak directly to Encouragement, we all still seem to run around looking for her words. Hoping that someone else will use Encouragement’s words. We all love her words.
Encouragement is closely related to Approval. Approval is pretty cool too, but I never quite trust her. I’m never sure if Approval really approves, or if she is really a part time used car salesman. Does Approval really like my dress, or does she just want to sell me that ’96 Saturn with the broken window and seat belt? If Approval is talking, using the words of Encouragement, then it is much easier for me to trust her. I talked to Trust about that, but Trust is a real airhead at times. Encouragement has a definite inner beauty, but most of the time she just hangs around in sweatpants and sweatshirt like the rest of us. Approval, however, is always dressed to the nines. Approval never leaves the house without makeup and every hair in its perfect little place. So if I don’t look like I’m on my way to the Fireman’s Ball, then Approval will make me a little nervous right off. I find it weird that Encouragement gives herself to Approval any time of the day, and they’re only second cousins. And Approval must like Encouragement too, because sometimes she imitates her, using those words. Those wonderful words. They do seem to have a sincerely close relationship. I did talk with Acceptance regarding my feeling towards Approval. Acceptance held up the mirror as usual, but then she did a strange thing. She peered over the top of it and winked. I hardly knew what to make of it at first. I tried to think back to what part of the conversation caused her to wink, and I couldn’t remember. But I think Acceptance winked to imitate Approval, and for a second, only a second, I thought I saw Acceptance with perfect makeup and perfect hair. Perhaps it was only an illusion. Acceptance can be a master at illusion. Sometimes she looks like Faith and Trust, and sometimes she looks like the Wicked Witch of the West. Acceptance did make an interesting statement. She said that I should use the words of Encouragement, to myself. I thought that was a stupid idea at first, but then Acceptance said that if a movie star can spend an entire lifetime speaking scripted dialogue, then why couldn’t I? What if Jodi Foster is only wonderful because she picks scripts with great lines and a strong female lead role? Yeah, it’s a movie in a movie, but somehow, I think that in Jodi’s own personal movie, she speaks similar dialogue. In my personal movie I can say anything I want, because I write my own script. I’m learning not to give a damn if using the words of Encouragement to myself might offend Approval, them being so close and all. If Approval has a problem with it, let her call 1-SLF-AWRENES and talk to Acceptance. That will set her straight.
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Prosperity, continued from p.27
Tugboat Annie I went down to the basement of braindom today, where the 1-SLF-AWRENES help line office is. If you don’t know where it is exactly, it’s about four doors down from the gigantic DREAM Machine. You can’t miss it because Acceptance painted the door in rainbow colors. Anyway, I had to bring some special food to Prosperity. Both her and I are on a diet, although it would take about six of me, to make one Prosperity. According to that, if she loses half her weight, it would be equivalent to three people. Just as I was about to arrive at the rainbow door, I ran into Approval. Oh yeah, there she was in her cute little pink silk suit and matching pumps. The skirt was a little too short, but it did look good on her. She has nice legs. In fact, she has a lot of leg that start from her armpit, or so it seems. She started speaking the words of Encouragement about my book, and how much she liked it, and I noticed that little tug in the pit of my stomach. The one I call Tugboat Annie. It happens every time there is a conﬂict between my thoughts and my feelings. So the tugboat was chugging along pretty good, slapping onto the shores and bouncing off, and just ﬂat making me pay attention to it. I could hardly concentrate on Approval’s words. But I already know the words. The words of Encouragement. I’m trying to use them myself, to myself. Just about then, Trust came out of the rainbow door and saw Approval and I talking in the hallway. Well, Approval was talking, and I was trying to listen, but really concentrating on the tugboat. I realized that my thoughts and feelings were in conﬂict. I don’t always believe Approval when she is speaking the words of Encouragement, and that alone is enough fuel to power Tugboat Annie to the moon and back. But then I noticed Trust, who was now standing next to Approval, and both her and Approval had on the very same shade of lipstick. Then Approval stopped talking and looked at Trust, and she noticed that they had on the very same shade of lipstick too. So that sparked an entire conversation about Mary Kay Cosmetics between the two of them. Because Trust and Approval were getting along so well, I could relax for a moment and not have to think about having to say something. It was then that I noticed that Tugboat Annie stopped. She let out a couple of toots from her smokestack, but then she shut her engine completely down and tossed over the anchor.
Acceptance did make an interesting statement. She said that I should use the words of Encouragement, to myself. I thought that was a stupid idea at ﬁrst, but then Acceptance said that if a movie star can spend an entire lifetime speaking scripted dialogue, then why couldn’t I?
It just felt really good having Trust there, even though she wasn’t talking to me. I started thinking about how much easier it is to handle Approval, when Trust is there. It sort of mellows Approval, and makes her more palatable. So from now on, every time I run into to Approval, I’m going to call in Trust as a mediator. If I can’t find her, I’ll just visualize her being there, so that every conversation that I have with Approval will be a threesome. Approval, Trust, and me.
photography Tracy Marshall
The Weighty Matter of Energy Management by Anet Paulina
have often quipped that the easiest way to gain weight is to try to lose it, and the easiest way to lose weight is to try to gain it. This has been true in my experience. While I’ve never been overweight by conventional standards, there have been times when I wanted to lose a few pounds, and other times when I needed to gain a few. Putting myself on a restrictive diet typically had the effect of making me want to eat every five minutes. When I was too thin and tried to make myself eat more, I often lost my appetite completely. Pondering the energetic implications of this phenomenon, it was easy for me to recognize that denying the impulse to eat (or do anything else) would have the opposite effect of creating the pressure of unexpressed energy, which eventually would have to be expressed in some manner (perhaps as binge eating, a shopping spree, or some other out-of-control behavior). The reason for losing my appetite when trying to gain weight, however, was less obvious. Was I, perhaps, denying an impulse not to eat? The theory sounded logical but didn’t feel right. I didn’t really have an impulse not to eat; it would be more accurate to say that I was trying to force myself to do something I didn’t feel like doing because I thought I should. And that sounded suspiciously like…forcing energy. Forcing energy is, essentially, the opposite of denying one’s impulses, which could also be described as “restricting the natural ﬂow of energy.” Carrying the concept further, it dawned on me that most of the difficulties we experience in life can be attributed to either restricting or forcing against our natural ﬂow of energy. Unfortunately, most of us have been trained since early childhood to both restrict and force our energy expressions to conform to what society has deemed acceptable and preferable. The unnatural management of our energy is so ubiquitous that it has come to seem normal to us.
Once it has been expressed, the person starts restricting their energy again, perpetuating the cycle. Energy-wise, bipolar disorder is similar to irritable bowel syndrome, in which a person’s digestive system alternately goes to extremes. It’s no coincidence that diagnoses of both disorders have risen markedly in recent years. How does one recognize when they are restricting or forcing their energy? Restriction often is revealed by hesitation: you have an impulse to act, but stop yourself before proceeding. When I feel drawn to do something, but (typically out of fear or inertia) start fabricating excuses and rationalizations as to why I cannot or should not follow through, it’s a good indication that I’m restricting my energy. Noticing when I am forcing energy can be a bit more tricky. Since I have a habit of confining my energy, sometimes I have to push myself at first to break free of inertia. But once that initial push is done, I should feel myself easily moving forward. If it continues to feel like I’m slogging through mud, that means I’m forcing my energy. People who do not habitually restrict their energy may simply notice when it feels like they are forcing themselves to do something they don’t feel like doing. To return to where we started, weight management is actually energy management. The key to maintaining a balanced weight is to allow yourself to eat what you want, when you want; enjoy it without self-recrimination; and notice and follow your body’s impulses that tell you when you’ve had enough. The key to a balanced life is to do what you want, when you want; enjoy it without self-recrimination, and stop when you’ve had enough. Simple, isn’t it?
A regular contributor in Wisp columns, Anet is the author of Transcend the Aging Process: Stay Young through the Power of Your Beliefs http://www.transcendaging.com
Habitual forcing of energy can lead to physical disorders such as muscle and joint injuries, elevated blood pressure, and in extreme cases, cerebral hemorrhage. A man I know whose way of life involved forcing energy (he was a chiropractor known for giving vigorous spinal adjustments) eventually had a stroke. A significant part of his recovery involved learning to honor his natural energy ﬂow. Due to the brain injury sustained from the ruptured blood vessel, when he would start to force energy, he would feel physical pain in his head. Depression can be the result of habitually repressing one’s energy to the point that restriction becomes an automatic response. Manic-depression (bipolar disorder) occurs when the repressed energy can no longer be contained. Essentially, the dam bursts, and the held energy ﬂows with great force.
photography Jean-Baptiste Duret
Garden of The Bears by David John Drew “I am the black bear, around me see the light clouds extending. I am the black bear, around me see the light dew falling…” – Pima Indian medicine song.
s we slowly drift into fall it is worth reﬂecting on this season from the perspective of the majestic and noble bear; those of us lucky enough to live close to or near mountains or forests will experience this creature at first hand at this time of year. The gradual approach of winter alerts the creature to the necessity of building up its weight for a long hibernation, and it is frequently found scavenging and roaming amidst human settlements for tasty morsels. The relationship between bear and human is a long epic, full of myths, fantasy, amazing adventure and struggle. And so, before our tired eyes begin to falter before the slowly fading Harvest moon I will recount some of the great legends of our gentle forest cousin. Once upon a time, a long, long time ago (believe it or not) the mighty and majestic bear once roamed all across Europe, dwelling in the dark forests of oak and ash… free and plentiful. It was the inspiration for many legends and tales amongst the Celts and Scandinavians, its strength and stamina was imitated through heroic deeds of valor. In ancient pagan Norway there were specialized bands of warriors called ‘Beserkers’ or ‘bear-shirts’ because they donned the hides and furs of the bear, adorned themselves with their teeth, claws and bones, and were always the first furious combatants in battle… invoking the strength and ferocity of their totem beast. Such fearless warriors were in high demand as body-guards for the nobility and persons of the highest rank. The Norwegian term ‘bjørn’ was one of the titles of Thor, the mighty god of thunder. Fionna MaCleod recounts an ancient Irish Celtic legend of the Pole Star; the youthful Finn mac Cumhail went bear hunting beyond the western mountains. Together with his two faithful hounds Luath andDorch they discovered an immense bear and chased him all the way to the icy North-lands to an everlasting rainbow, across which the bear climbed. It was met in the middle by the two hounds and all seemed to have been brought to a conclusion when it crashed to the ground, mortally wounded it seemed… but not! It started running again. The ‘All-Father’the Great Creator watching this spectacle from the heavens decided this escapade was more than enough and so he hoisted the bear by means of a rope noose into the pitch dark sky where it raced around Arcturus the ‘North Star’ or ‘Northmen’s Torch.’ Finn didn’t give up, with the hero’s leap he mounted the rainbow, then again onto the hill of heaven and gave eternal chase to the divine beast. Here the magnificent northern lights we see are said to be the spears of Finn, forever being hurled at the Great Bear… forever in pursuit. In ancient Ireland there were two names given to the bear; art which is cognate with the Greek arktos and the name of the star Arcturus, andmath or mathus which is the origin of the name mac-mathghamhna or the ‘bear-club clan’ of the Mac Mahon’s. In Pagan Irish tradition the bear possessed a unique divinity and was often regarded as a god of the heavens, forming a triplicity in the night sky with Arcturus as the ‘Bear-Guard’ or ‘Fort of the Bears’ and the two smaller bears sleeping around it, called Ursa major and Ursa minor. There is another myth that these sleeping bear gods will arise from their hibernation and come to the aid of their people when called, and this obligation is borne by the bear-tribe of the Mahon’s.
Bears still existed all across Western Europe as late as the fifteenth century, although they had become extinct in Britain by the 10th century. They were frequently caught, imported and used in games and entertainment, for public spectacle. In 16th century Elizabethan England fighting bears were common; famous bears such as ‘Harry Hunks’ and the ‘Great Sackerson’ became national idols, fighting at the Paris gardens in Southwark London every Sunday. By the beginning of the Spanish civil war in 1936 bears had almost completely disappeared in Western Europe, only in the eastern parts of Romania, Hungary, Poland and the Transylvanian mountain ranges do they still live in considerable numbers. In the Apenusi mountains is the ‘Pestera Ursilor’ or Bears-Cave where the 15,000 year old skeletal remains of an ancient family of 140 bears has been discovered. Even when the bear is no longer with us in a physical way, we can always sense its powerful spiritual presence, like the invocation-song of Vainamoinen in the Kalevala:
Autumn weather is slippery, winter days are dark. My bear, my darling, honey-paws, my beauty, You still have ground to cover, heath to clamber upon. Start, splendid one, to go, glory of the forest, to step along. We cannot fail to recognize the primitive importance of the bear to our sense of being, when our lives as children begin with old tales like ‘Goldilocks.’ In the original oral tradition the young fair girl was a silvered widow, and before that a crafty fox called Scrapefoot… when we dig deep we become wild creatures living in the dark deep forest just like the bears, then we stole their food and now they repay us likewise. Beware; before you scream in fear remember he is just a prince with a fur-coat! I send my blessings to you all this fall Equinox, and pray your harvest and hibernation during the dark months be a peaceful one, deep, relaxing and refreshing.
photo credits: Wikipedia commons, Brown Bear at Moscow zoo, by Simm
The Unbearable Lightness of Health Beliefs by Dtmodttl
paper, soon to be published in the prestigious Archives of Internal Medicine, considers whether some cancers might in fact come and go, not unlike a common cold. The associated study comprised two statistically similar groups of women in Norway. Over a five-year period, all were screened for breast cancer. Individuals in one group underwent regular screenings, while individuals in the other group were screened only once, at the end of their part of the study. One might expect similar rates of cancer in both groups, but with earlier detection in the individuals screened regularly. However, the results were surprising. The number of cancer diagnoses was significantly higher in the group regularly tested for it. A possible conclusion might be that the testing method itself causes cancer, but the scientists found past research that suggests otherwise. They therefore began to wonder whether the cancer was in fact coming and going. (Test a group of people each week for ‘ﬂu, from October to March, and you’ll record several cases. Test another group only once, in March, and you’ll record far fewer cases.) Ultimately, in their paper they suggest just that, while calling for further research. It’s big news. In an Internet search, I noticed that the study was widely reported on among news organizations around the world. I personally happened to learn about the study while reading the paper over my morning tea. The findings contradict common assumptions about cancer and could have major implications on health policy and on treatments. The findings also suggest that some people diagnosed with cancer today might be getting the wrong treatment. That is an inherent downside of science-based medicine. The science advances, but it’s not complete; and, the advances sometimes contradict previous understanding. Most cancer patients are probably aware of that, but, after careful consideration, want the best available treatment —which is perfectly understandable. Does adhering to the latest in health science research make sense all the time? Most would say that careful consideration is always necessary, from a difficult decision about cancer treatment, to the simpler issues people face every day, such as the best exercise or what to eat. As the cancer story illustrates, scientific knowledge is often incomplete. Unfortunately, the above point sometimes gets lost when it comes to public health policy and ‘official’ recommendations. For example, in the US and many other countries, drinking any amount of alcohol while pregnant is considered a strict ‘no-no’. In fact, in some places it’s legally enforceable. While there may be reasons for some not to drink during pregnancy, the underlying science about alcohol and pregnancy is far from complete, despite thousands of studies. Recently, in fact, yet another study about drinking during pregnancy (Oct. 30, 2008, Journal of Epidemiology) suggests it might not cause any harm at all. Expect another, future study to contradict it.
Clearly, some in the public health arena are making premature conclusions about scientific findings. Amazingly, there are others who don’t even bother with the findings. On the topic of alcohol, there was another recent study, widely reported, with the finding that alcohol might “shrink” the brain. Scanning the major news websites, I noticed that little about the study itself was reported on. Rather, comments from anti-drinking groups were featured extensively, along with quotes from police agencies and health regulators —all of them, of course, delighted by a study that would, at least on the surface, seem to validate their positions. (I noticed an article from alcoholfree Iran with the headline, “Alcohol Causes Severe Brain Damage.”) I’d bet that many of the individuals quoted from those groups didn’t actually read the study, or even its abstract. Given the lack of detail in most of the articles, I also wonder whether the journalists themselves did their homework. What are the effects of brain shrinkage, specifically? By how much did brains shrink in the study? What were the subjects drinking? Wouldn’t Budweiser shrink the brain faster than a good brandy? Is shrinking in fact bad? Does the shrinking ever reverse, and if so how quickly? What other foods and drinks might cause brain shrinkage? Some of these critical questions probably don’t even have answers at present. The problem goes beyond journalism. Similar questions arise with respect to the banning of trans fats, legislation that “forward thinking” governments around the world are considering. Are trans fats really such a public health issue that they need banning? Is it inconceivable that a study might come along showing that trans fats are not as unhealthy as currently thought? Don’t lawmakers at all levels of government have better things to do with their time? Too often, real science becomes obscured from public view, overshadowed by the narrative of others, including government officials, lobbies and marketing departments. They all have their motives —votes, looking busy, quarterly earnings. Sometimes even the researchers themselves lose sight of the science, as they align themselves with commercial interests. In the US, for example, a couple of once well-regarded medical professors are being federally investigated for not disclosing large payments from pharmaceutical companies, and the validity of their research is now cast into doubt. More such cases will likely follow as investigations continue. Forceful claims or recommendations regarding personal health are often best approached with a critical frame of mind, especially when scientific studies are cited. What is true today may likely not be true tomorrow.
From Childhood Wounds to Lessons of the Soul
by Cathryn Taylor
MA, MFT, LDAC — http://joincathryntaylor.com and author of The Inner Child Workbook
n this time of great spiritual expansion many of us are remembering and opening up to the multiplicity of our being. We are discovering that just as we have more than one wounded child within, we also have more than one lost or wounded aspect of our soul. Those pursuing a spiritual path are searching for ways to heal these wounds on a more multidimensional level. Through my work with many individuals engaged in this pursuit it has become obvious to me that not only do the inner children represent the wounds from one’s childhood — they also reﬂect the karmic blockages we each have brought into this lifetime as well. It is the first time the veil has lifted enough for us to begin to see these blockages in a multidimensional sense. I believe this is occurring because many of us have done enough work on bringing the Light into our spiritual bodies that we can now handle a higher vibration of energy which enables us to see these many levels of consciousness. Our awareness of our true nature is expanding. We now not only have more access to the “story” of our soul - we are also in a position to begin the necessary process of illuminating our physical forms. Until recently our focus has been on transcending our lower bodies so we would not get caught in the temptation and density of this lower dimension. But now this focus is being re-directed. In order to continue our evolvement, we need to make room for the Light to enter our physical forms - we need to illuminate our physical body not transcend it. However, illumination involves confrontation - for as we have progressed through our incarnations, learning the lessons of our soul, we have accumulated karma. Like knots tied in a rope, this traumatic energy of our karma has locked into our lower bodies, causing mental, emotional and physical blockages. The expansion of inner child work offers a way to untie these traumatic knots. It gives us a way to follow these psychological knots back to the present and past life source so we can heal them in all dimensions of time and consciousness.
This work is done when you are ready to be empowered and to take responsibility for your own healing because it requires the willingness to become an active participant in the healing process. It is not a process that someone else can do for you. It is a process which takes place between the Higher Self, the adult self and the wounded aspects of the personality and Soul. It makes use of the fact that our adult self now has enough illumination to adequately contain the spiritual endeavors of our God-self and can therefore facilitate a healing of this kind. This is critical because in order to bring more and more Light to the physical plane we need a part of us who is dense enough to make direct contact with the lower level, yet illuminated enough to maintain the connection to our Higher Self. We need a go-between. The adult self acts as this go-between. It is this part of self who is illuminated enough to make contact with the denser parts of self. It can be seen by those aspects of self that have been wounded and carry a lower frequency than our Higher Selves can. The Higher Self is not dense enough to make tangible contact with the wounded selves. But the adult self, because he or she is of this plane and carries a similar frequency of energy and density, is, and can therefore reach the frightened lower parts of self who vibrate at a lower frequency, yet, are in dire need of being rescued and brought into the higher frequency of the Light. Once these fragments of our Soul have been rescued, the adult self can reintroduce them to and reconnect them with the God-Consciousness. The Higher Self needs the adult self to retrieve and the adult needs the Higher Self to receive. Never before has there been such a need for a cooperative relationship between the two. Once this relationship has been established, the most effective way for implementing this healing plan is to first determine which inner voice carries the blockages of fear, anger, shame or grief. Then you can use your Adult Self and what I call your Healing Team (Protectors, Guardian Angels, Ascended Masters as well as your own Masterful Selves,) to trace this voice back to the first remembered childhood experience, and then ultimately back, through time, to its origin in your Soul’s history. For instance, if, in one of your incarnations you were burnt at the stake for speaking your truth about Spirit, then in your present lifetime, if you devote yourself to a specific doctrine and find you want to spread the word about this belief system, you may find yourself intimidated by the prospect. When you begin to work with this issue, you may first go back to a time in this life when you were not allowed the freedom to speak. You may have had a father who did not allow you free expression of your thoughts, or a mother who punished you if you voiced opinions which were different than her own. In working with the child within who carries the pain from your childhood, you can ask your higher assistance to take you back to the original source of this pain. Most often your inner guidance will present you with some clue identifying a particular scene from your childhood that represents the origin of this pattern. You can also ask that this be taken one step further by setting your intention with your guidance to be taken back to the origin of this issue on a Soul level. When individuals find themselves back in another dimension of time where the pattern first originated, they find that an aspect of their Soul is in limbo, waiting to be rescued, still traumatized from the residue of this original, yet, unresolved pain. This part of your Soul can be rescued with the same tools that are used to rescue a child within. Both exercises require a bit of time travel… it is just a matter of how far back on the time line you choose to go. Once the aspect of your Soul has been found, or the appropriate child within has been retrieved, the work begins. It is done in layers. The layers involve healing the traumas physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually in all dimensions of time and consciousness.
ueen of Shopping-Spree Glee
(Recite to the rhythm of “T’was the Night Before Christmas”.)
A roller-shod sprinter practices her stuff,
photography Tracy Marshall In order to do this we must: 1. identify and alter the false belief held by the mental body, 2. own and discharge the emotions held by the emotional body, 3. locate and release the place within our physical forms which has stored the pain and 4. ask for assistance in altering the blueprint held in the etheric body that has transferred this pattern through time and space, from lifetime to lifetime. Many find, at some point, they are faced with confronting the more generalized layers of pain, the layers of terror, torture and violation that have been used to extinguish the Light. It is at this point the work begins to involve, in a more pronounced way, lifetimes where we were tortured or terrorized for our earthly pursuits or spiritual beliefs. It is also common to find that you are processing a more generalized and perhaps even a multigenerational grief. If you or a close relative were involved in an event such as the holocaust or the Viet Nam War, you may find yourself processing a grief that extends beyond your immediate experience. You may have inherited the grief from a parent and find you are now the conduit for the release of this pain. If this process is divinely orchestrated you can bless your experience and release this grief with grace. As you untie these knots your linked chain to the Divine becomes disentangled. Soon, enough knots have been untied and the chain frees itself. Then, with daily practice and attention you can intervene in the immediate, and, using your spiritual tools, can keep the chain free and maintained. The adult self will then ultimately merge into the Higher self and total ascension will occur. As enough of us do this we will also raise the frequency of mother earth and facilitate her ascension. In other words, instead of transcending the physical plane we are now in a place to illuminate it and bring it into a higher frequency thus facilitating its own ascension as well.
This “Princess of Plenty” has not got enough, She’s steady of hand; grabs only the best loot, From Penney’s and Mervyn’s and Sears to boot. With coupons and discounts, scrutiny and scanning, It took months and months of sheer perfect planning. She widened her scope of specials at Best Buys, Enlisting all relatives with use of their eyes. Block Busters and Suncoast are loaded with fun, Those late fees at Hollywood keep her on the run. When parking and loading at Zupan’s Market, She’ll be cocked & aimed; sighted on Target. As a great shopping warrior, she’ll be on her toes, Buying gladiator gear at Copeland’s and JOE’s. Swift as a reindeer, readying her cart, The “Queen of Quite A Lot” knows just where to start. Into a Wal-Mart and out in a dash, With the ﬂick of her card, she doesn’t need cash. Bed Bath & Beyond sells weapons: broom & toilet brush, Enforcing “crowd control” in the mad check-stand rush. Riding escalator banisters to beat the throng, Heading to Nordstrom’s for stockings and thongs. P.J.’s and slippers of wolves, seals and teddies, Will not go unnoticed at Kmart or Freddie’s. You may scoff at the gall of this shopper… and laugh, But she’s already gone and hired her own mini-staff. Through Meier & Frank’s hustle and bustle she’ll fight, This single-minded woman is a salesclerk’s delight. As we’re thinking of turkey on Thanksgiving Eve, Her U-haul is all rented and ready to leave. The big day arrives; she squeals at pre-ﬂight, She’s ready to leave before dawn’s early light. Shopping Spree Glee… whoopieeeeeee! The final store’s closing, at the stroke of midnight, With a contented smile, she wishes all a good night. As we arise the next morning, with a yawn and stretch, This “Goddess of Way Too Much” has schemed next year’s fetch.
Jadia L. Ward
My Ancient Egyptian Focus by Rob Arteman
ramada Essence Family: Elias has identified this family as “The Formers”. They are the creators or originators of ideas. They can express great creativity. Since I belong to this family so do all of my focuses within this physical dimension. Since connecting with my ancient Egyptian focus, Ineptotep, and with the recent discoveries by archeologists, it seems that some proof has been found showing some of the creative expressions offered by him. The first thing encountered while entering Ineptotep’s burial chambers was a hieroglyphic engraving which showed how he contributed to the development of the ancient writing. The small portion of the carvings that are provided below show the final symbols that were derived! (Figure 1)
Figure 1 ▲
Next we view how Ineptotep’s initial offerings were quite inﬂuential in determining the final images as shown above, in Figure 2 below.
With the further exploration of the tomb, it was discovered that Ineptotep may have shown some creativity with the development of a game! Now one of the most popular games that was discovered in the uncovering of a number of different archeological dig sites was the board game known as Senet. An image is provided below in Figure 3. Unfortunately, the game developed by Ineptotep didn’t have any information regarding how the game was played. There are still many areas of the tomb which have not been fully explored and the hope is that the information will be discovered at a later date. The game appears to be quite different from anything uncovered before or since. (Figure 4)
Figure 3 ◆ Traditional game of Senet
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▼ Figure 2
Wouldn’t it be great if I could tap into that focus and recover that information on how this game was actually played? Also found carved on one of the walls behind a grouping of canopic jars is shown in Figure 5. When translated:
“Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun.” There was a cartouche reference earlier to an individual of god like status named Big Mac! It would seem that this was a misinterpretation. I will continue to explore this focus and share any further information that may seem interesting. Like the most recent image ﬂash showing the symbols: Beer!
Figure 4 ▲ The mysterious game of Ineptotep
Figure 5 ▲ Another carving found in the tomb
the ruure of an empty beach a paw print,
Haiga by Rick Daddario
Science Discovers Some Flaky Spiritual Stuff by Reginald Martin
saw this New Scientist article1 one day and was amazed! I received scientific confirmations in some areas of my spiritual studies. I had been reading the book “Seth Speaks, the eternal validity of the soul” by Jane Roberts. Jane Roberts channeled a non-physical being called Seth. She did this and wrote a book back in the 1970’s. You may or may not believe in channeled information but when science confirms something that was said by the channel you at least have to question your skepticism, don’t you? Maybe, maybe not. You can read the article in entirety if you wish. The link has been included. However, to sum up what is most important from my perspective is this: matter actually phases in and out of our space time continuum. Or as they put it:
“Matter is built on flaky foundations. Physicists have now confirmed that the apparently substantial stuff is actually no more than fluctuations in the quantum vacuum." The “ﬂaky” part seems to mean they have no concrete explanation for what is happening. If you want to know before science figures it out then read Seth Speaks and tap into an incredible wealth of information and knowledge. The specific session that this article covers is on page 233, session 567. Science still does not have all of it right. There is no vacuum, the ﬂuctuations are dimensional. Science instruments can not measure the smallest units of energy that Seth speaks about, the EE units. What I thought was important about the article was that Seth did say that matter phases in and out of this dimension. This phasing in and out of matter within dimensions is a major tenet of what Seth and others have linked to the true nature of time and of our total existence within space and time. Many of the great teachers have talked about us being eternal beings not bound by space and time. Time is simply a construct of humanity. Because of how our brains are wired we view time in a linear form. We are unable to objectively view the phases of matter. However we can subjectively view a part of us that is affected by the phasing in and out of matter, and that is past and future lives. There are many belief systems that believe in reincarnation. However, I have come to believe that how we think of reincarnation is a myth. Seth says that the phasing in and out is essentially simultaneous. The phases occur, for us individually and in mass, in our systems of probability. Because of the phasing, probabilities are able to exist and they are all occurring simultaneously. The simultaneous occurrences and probabilities are not only for our present incarnation but also in our past and future. That means even our past and future incarnations have many probabilities, but, they all exist right now! All of our lives past, present and future exist in the now! Therefore we will not die and reincarnate into a future as we would think in a linear fashion.
Because matter is not truly bound by time the phasing allows for simultaneous existence of all of our incarnations and the probabilities of each incarnation. Science has postulated the existence of probabilities. Science already knows that you can not pinpoint the exact spot of an atom at anytime because they exist within a wave function of probabilities. In Seth Speaks on page 234 it says that “sci-
ence can only explore the characteristics of an atom as it acts or shows within your system. Its greater reality completely escapes them.” At this
point science knows that atoms exist in a “cloud” of probabilities. But they can not understand the true nature. With this discovery they understand the true nature of an atom a little more but still do not have it all right —but they are getting close. With respect to reincarnation we must now remove ourselves from linear thinking. All of our being, past, present and future exist right now. All of our being has effects on all parts. The past can have an effect on the present and the future and the future can have an effect on the past and the present. This means that there is really no such thing a Karma. If the past exist now, how can you pay for a past transgression? Anything that we term past or future is simply an alternate present. Karma and reincarnation is a construct of linear time, one year after another and one lifetime after another. Again, if all existence is in the present then there is no reincarnation and no karma that anyone is paying for. The most powerful concept that we must understand is that our power is in the present. In the now we can have an effect on our past that can change our present and our future. (Wow our language does limit how this concept can be explained) We do not have to pay for the past, it is happening now. Our future is not written out before us, we simply have to decide which probability that we want to chose and we will live that future in an ever expanding series of now! How liberating! This confirmation of Seth by physicists, and many other confirmations over the years by science, since Seth Speaks was first written, gives me the confidence to take much more of what I read from Seth on faith. It opens my mind to the endless possibilities of my being. Think about this: many teachers has spoken about other dimensions of reality, reincarnation, civilizations on earth before ours, evolution and how science does not have it right. All these things are fantastic comments and ﬂies in the face of what we know as objective reality. I believe I am much like many of you out there who feel much of what these teachers have to say; feel that it makes sense and feel that they can be right subjectively. However, if you are like me, the eternal skeptic, then you may still have some objective doubt, how ever great or slight that doubt may be it is still there. There is still no objective proof so that you can go to someone else and say, this is real. Because science has validated something that Seth says then it automatically lends credibility to other things he has stated. It also lends credibility to the other channels that have spoken on many subjects related to what Seth has said. I realize that much of what he speaks about will never be “discovered” or documented by science as we know it today. However, a “tip of the iceberg” discovery like this is a very exciting time for this spiritual traveler.
1 · http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn16095-its-confirmed-matter-isPhoto credits hubblesite.org
The Essence of Yum by Marcy Singer
decided to submit a recipe for a Christmas treat that is an old fashioned tradition here in the US, although you almost never get it homemade anymore. I got this recipe from Martha Stewart's TV program. This is a great recipe that always turns out well.
DifďŹ culty: Intermediate Cooking time: approximately 45 minutes Cooling time: 1 hour Special equipment: candy thermometer (I do not suggest trying this recipe without one)
Stir together sugar, corn syrup and water in a heavy saucepan and cook to 230 degrees (F) on candy thermometer, stirring occasionally. Add: 4 1/2 c. salted peanuts (do not use raw peanuts) Cook to 300 degrees (F), stirring constantly. (This will seem to take forever, but once the temp reaches 275 watch carefully because it goes up to 300 rather quickly.) Remove from heat and add: 4 T. unsalted butter 2 t. vanilla
3 c. white sugar
2 t. baking soda
1 c. light corn syrup 1/2 c. water
Syrup will boil on the surface when vanilla is added and will foam up when baking soda is added. Stir until butter is melted and ingredients are completely incorporated.
Spray 2 cookie sheets (sheet pans) with oil cooking spray.
Pour into pans and spread quickly. Cool 1 hour. Crack into pieces.
photography Tracy Marshall
We would welcome any kind of personal writing, artistic works, poems, essays, etc. Find previous issues and all published stories on our website…
http://wisp.focusphere.net Wisp e-zine — Issue #8 — December 2008 — ISSN 1760-4796 No part of this magazine may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher
Abstract Leaves, by Peter Pynchon
The intention of WISP is to provide a place for personal stories; inspirational, light, humorous, challenging or anything in between… and beyond.