Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone, Irish or otherwise. Let’s send some of our luck wrapped in love and light to the folks in Japan and all those brave men and women there to help. Blog member, Shawna, sent me the most recent Divine Openings newsletter, and one section in particular really struck a chord. I’d like to share it with all of you too:
There are two ways you can help the Japanese after the Tsunami. The first is non-physical: Do not call them victims. There are no victims anywhere, only those who are not yet fully aware. See only solutions and possibilities, and keep your vibration as high as you can. That’s the way The Presence sees it. Intend not to dip into the lower emotions about it, which only adds to the lower vibration and actually impedes recovery.
This paragraph has completely shifted my paradigm about disasters and victimhood in general. I used to think that the pity and empathic sadness I felt for those enduring struggles, disasters or tragedies was a noble thing, but no. I was wrong. It’s hard to separate the pity from feelings of compassion, but it can and should be done. The fear I once attached to my outpouring of love for victims must be replaced by love and a positive outlook that, in the end, everything and everyone turns out to be just fine. Now, I feel I can truly help in a spiritual way.
The last couple of days, I’ve been going through a bit of a rough patch. As I sit here on the couch typing away, I realize that I’m still in my robe. That might not seem odd to you, but it’s nearly noon here, and I just don’t do the whole “robes at noon” thing. Of course this is the nature of the beast that is grief. I usually scamper furiously in my little hamster wheel, then stop and fall off a cliff. Waves of grief are like pressure relief valves that prevent us from being eaten up from the inside out. What bothers me the most lately is how all of the other family members don’t seem to talk about Erik like I do. No one says, “I miss Erik,” or “Remember the time when he did such and such,” or “I wish he was here enjoying this day with us.” It’s like he’s invisible in our family, or worse–it’s like he’s vanished from our lives forever. For me, thoughts of Erik consume every idle moment, perhaps because I’m afraid to lose him again. After all, those thoughts, those memories are all I have left of him, tangibly speaking. Of course everyone grieves differently. I know that. But I feel really lonely sometimes being the only one who grieves so opening. And as the months pass, I think, “Geez, shouldn’t I feel better now?” But I don’t, so that makes me wonder if I’ll ever “get over this” or if I’m just plain nuts. That in and of itself is depressing. I can’t bear the thought of Erik disappearing from the hearts of Medhus family.
Me: Let’s see if you have additional information for this question, Sweetie. When do souls enter the body, at conception, at birth, or one of the above?
Jamie (giggling): He said, “D, all of the above!”
Jamie and I both laugh hard.
Erik: It’s some spirits’ lesson to start from the beginning to transition into the cellular development of a fetus.
Erik: So their process starts long before conception.
Me: Oh, wow!
Erik: Yeah, because they have to work their way down, um, work their vibration down to a human vibration, a cellular vibration. It’s very pure, very clean, but it’s a hard achievement. Most spirits I’ve seen ride sidesaddle.
Jamie giggles hard at Erik’s description.
Jamie: That’s such a funny visual. He says they ride sidesaddle on the belly until the baby is, um—not fully developed, but mostly developed, so that the spirit can merge.
Erik: There are rare occasions when the baby is born and the spirit is not fully attached, but that can happen.
Erik: But mostly, um—
(Long pause. I guess at this point, Erik has decided not to finish his sentence. That pesky ADHD must cross over with us!)
Me: So I guess it can happen any time during that process. So when they’re babies, can they just come in and out of the body, you know, whenever they want?
Erik: Yes, as babies, as infants. What we call “dream state” where you can change your focus and just project your imagination, your intent—
Me: Uh huh.
Erik: That’s an out of body experience for a child. They can go in and out of the body much easier than a teenager or an adult can. Then, when people get really, really old, a lot of times they can do that same thing a lot easier than they could before.
Me: It’s like they’re gearing up to go Home.
Erik: Yeah, something like that.
Don’t forget the call tonight! See yesterday’s entry for the details!