88. Abraham Hicks, Esther and Jerry Hick

You shouldn’t have to die to experience heaven, God, all that you are! We do have that happen. We do experience the moments of deep connection, deep love, deep Eternal knowledge.

This is an overzealous introduction to Abraham Hicks, and gives you a chance to put eyes on both Esther and Jerry Hicks.

So many years back, Severine (not to be mistaken with Christine’s husband, Severin) introduced me to their teachings.  I had a lot of doubts.  But Abraham is so funny and so accurate that I couldn’t hold my issues for long.  I was mesmerized by this unique way that God communicates with us, and I was challenged.  I was definitely challenged. 

Jerry croaked a while back.  Croaked is how Abraham addresses death, because death seems just too serious!  If you listen to them talk, you can research what is happening there and decide whether you can allow the magic of God to channel through in this way.  It does take a leap of faith.

Abraham says, “We want you to get into the Vortex…When you croak, in you go.  It’s so wonderful to watch you die, moving immediately into all you have become, all you have asked for.  But we don’t think you should have to croak in order to be in the Vortex’!!!

You shouldn’t have to die to experience heaven, God, all that you are!  We do have that happen.  We do experience the moments of deep connection, deep love, deep Eternal knowledge.  It would be amazing if we could get them to come together in succession and repetition until we were aware of our Oneness a large amount of the time.  What would the world be like?

Would it be like the Wee Free Men in Terry Pratchett’s book by that name?  Would we still run around killing, and drinking, stealing and wreaking havoc (but enjoying it thoroughly and understanding the value)?  Would we live the Zen peace of sitting in a field meditating and singing spiritual mantras?  Would it be individual and personal, to each piece of the oneness?  What a magnificent puzzle!  The only way to know is to try.  The only way to know is to take the great leap of “getting into the Vortex”. 

87. Surgical Wound Stings

2020 is a year of valiant works. We are all doing incredible healing work, world changing work. I have incredible gratitude for all of your contributions. And I know that they hurt.

Today I was talking about my wound.  The surgeon changed the packing schedule.  Although a lot of things have healed for me, the main surgical opening still has a gap that might be ¾ inch long, and more like three or four inches deep.  It drains fluids.  And it is not healing quickly, or perhaps not healing at all.

They changed to packing it with gauze tape twice a day.  It was always getting packed.  For two weeks it has been filled every other day with a silver laden tape that repels infection, but it isn’t drying out.  So the tape is different now, and the schedule is twice a day.

For me, packing hurts.  It doesn’t hurt a little.  It hurts to black out level.  And the pain hangs around for eight to ten hours after the wound is packed.  I was describing this to Shante.  I said “it is stinging”.  Later I went on to say “it is like there is a knife lodged in the wound, and it sends shooting pain when certain movements are made”.  Shante said, “Mom, that is not stinging”.

It IS actually stinging; it stings a lot!  But maybe the word isn’t strong enough, doesn’t convey the impact.  When I pack the wound, the sensation does not stop much before it is packed again, if it stops it at all.  I am back on Tylenol, and considering trying something stronger… because of packing.  It reminds me of the MRSA.

So, the body has pain.  It warns me with pain.  It talks to me of transition and healing and world change. 

 Amisha and I have had many conversations that look at this from varying angles.  Pain is a body thing.  But memory of pain, or the way I experience the pain, is mental or spiritual, or a combination of the two.  What is opening here for healing?  (Puns… There is an opening in my abdomen. Physical healing is necessary.)  Are there people in my lineage that endured great pain that need me to resolve it?  Do I have historical work from my own wounding that has come up again for higher resolution?  

2020 is a year of valiant works.  We are all doing incredible healing work, world changing work.  I have incredible gratitude for all of your contributions.  And I know that they hurt.  I am so thankful for the process that is unfolding within me.  I pray for all of us, that we endure the stinging, and get to the other side, to insight.

85 Carrot, The Cat

Ruby, a gray cat, sitting near a window
Ruby, named after a troll from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books.

Carrot is an orange cat.  He is not named for the orange root vegetable. He is named for Terry Pratchett’s character, Captain Carrot of the Guard. 

And the black cat, her name is Angua (not Angela), named for his partner, a werewolf woman, also from the books.  Their cat sister, a stripey gray feline, is called Ruby, who is a troll from the same set of Discworld books.  Ruby is the small one, fitting for a troll.

Carrot is a ribbon addict.  Obsessed.  He hears the ribbon drawer open from across the house.  He runs to the location at the mere thought that he might get to bite one, lick one, swallow one.  

Angua, the black cat
Angua, The Black Cat

He went too far.  It wasn’t a gift box ribbon though.  It was a sewing ribbon that he thieved from a Covid mask.  He swallowed all twelve inches of it.  Another victim of the virus, he was hospitalized, had a major surgery, and now has a matching stomach wound to mine.  And some of the same limitations.  

I don’t feel like licking my wound, or jumping.  So those are different for him.  He is wearing clothes rather than the cone.  Still a symbol of shame, “the cone of shame”, he doesn’t love his onesies.

An orange cat named Carrot, after Captain Carrot the Guard
Captain Carrot of the Guard

So why does this household have two “people” with major surgeries and major scars down the abdomen?  What is being said here?  My first google search for the spiritual meaning says that our abdomen is where we process our reality, where we learn to move things through.  I synopsized.  Carrot has to be an exclamation point, because he doesn’t care what we think about his spiritual meaning.  He lives his spiritual meaning in every moment.  Humanly, I do the same thing, but the mind and emotions and interpretation give an illusory experience that cannot relate.

There are signs.  There are flashing neon signs in the form of stitches and wound packing and doctor visits.  Carrot and I are doing the work.  We are doing it for reality, for the Truth of all things.  May no one need to join us.  May this “be enough”.

84 Spring Medicine Shield

Journaling comes in many forms.  Most people think of it as writing, yet those same people may not write.  Everyone journals.  It’s a matter of noticing how.  How do you connect with the Divine?  How do you hear direction, get ideas, feel inspired and fed?  Where do you think those ideas and positive emotions come from?

One form of journaling is artistic creations.  I have been working on my medicine shield.  I started it on the trip to the ocean.  It tells a story, one that is literal, and then one that is also deep and ongoing.  The finished shield will talk to me.  But it could talk to others and say totally different things.

This cedar ring (representative of the life giving, spiritual tree) is adorned with a piece of driftwood that represents the tree of life.  This has come up in so many meditations, the fluidity of the generations, how we bear the love and knowledge of our ancestors in our daily lives, but also how we carry it through to future generations.

Medicine shield with cedar ring and feathers.
Medicine Shield making as a form of journaling

Today I was trying to get ahead of the morning pain.  I was reciting the rosary in bed, as I stared at the ceiling.  I could see my Grandpa Plumb, kneeling in the pews, then his mother Grandma Mickey (Catherine Plumb).  And then I pondered all of the generations before.  I don’t know if the ones that came before Grandma Mickey were Catholic, if they said the prayers or attended a church, but they were in my thoughts and visions.

Then the future generations came to mind, not bound to a church, but definitely connected to a lineage.  What will come of the future, when today we wrestle with Covid 19, Black Lives Matter, and a full shift of the world as we know it.  When I glance over at the medicine shield, I am pondering the tree.  I want to add bead blossoms to the limbs.  I wonder what that will look like.  I know the journaling of the future generations will be in those glass flowers.

83 Crow Guardians

It’s a way of spirit talking, of sharing support and encouragement. I probably created it myself, in my directed noticing. No matter how it happened, I appreciate all of the support I can get!

Crows are in the category of “tricksters” in the spirit animal realm.  They can be used as a representative of the south in the medicine wheel, where coyote roams, summer, play, rest, laughter.  But in my world, they are watchers.  They are community.  They are encouragement.

Yesterday, there were a lot of crows.  A crow was on the line above the car before we left for the doctor.  It called out as I entered the car.  Another cawed its greeting when I stepped out of the vehicle on return from the physically painful visit to the doctor’s office.  They fly across the field of vision outside of the windows.  I woke to their words in the morning.  A crow feather was on the side of the driveway.

Crows

It’s a way of spirit talking, of sharing support and encouragement.  I probably created it myself, in my directed noticing.  No matter how it happened, I appreciate all of the support I can get!

82 It’s Dark

Everything hurt so much after the doctor visit, that the next time to pack it just added to pain already happening. So, I’m back to constant Tylenol, back to waking up with hurt, and worst of all, I’m dealing with a mind that is obsessed with the idea of how many hours until I need to do it all again.

It’s dark. Actually the sun is rising and I can barely see the screen due to the focus the beams have on me. That is reassuring!

The incision wound needs to step it up a notch and start the closure process.  Apparently it’s just been hanging out, being itself for a month.  It’s a 3/4 inch hole at the surface, maybe 3 1/2 inches deep.  There is a repulsed, grossed out feeling I have when I work with it.  I try to explore whether it associates with my past experience with “packing a wound” back in the MRSA days, or if it’s a new experience of its own right.

Because it was not shifting, the surgeon decided to change the routine.  Because I can’t really tell what is happening when they are working on me, I make up stories from what I do see.  They might be fully false.  But what I think happened is that a set of tweezers was used inside the wound to measure the fluid behavior.  At any rate, the inner tissue is pissed off.  There isn’t a nicer way to say that.  Cell rage?  

My body has never loved being packed.  Packing is when some form of material is put into the open space to allow drainage, and healing the depth of the hole rather than the surface, avoiding infection.  Sometimes it’s nothing.  Usually my body is angry, and there is pain that radiates immensely for half a day.  I was packing the wound every other day.

Now, with a different form of packing material, it needs to be done twice a day.  Everything hurt so much after the doctor visit, that the next time to pack it just added to pain already happening.  So, I’m back to constant Tylenol, back to waking up with hurt, and worst of all, I’m dealing with a mind that is obsessed with the idea of how many hours until I need to do it all again.

black cat holding persons arm

The up side?  Sun beams blinding me as I type.  A cat lying literally across my left wrist (amazing that typing still happens)

The up side?  Sun beams blinding me as I type.  A cat lying literally across my left wrist (amazing that typing still happens).  Crows calling out, reminding me of spirit and that they are “there for me”. Breath.  Breath is always an upside, like the poem Amisha shared.