The art of receivingAs a woman who grew up in the 70’s and early 80’s, I, like many other girls my age, were shaped by a societal belief that IF I should choose a career outside the home, I should choose to be a school teacher, a nurse, a stewardess, a secretary, or maybe a bookkeeper or a switchboard operator. Still a carry over from the time of the “Woman’s Lib” movement that began in the 60’s, it was believed by many that a woman’s place was in the home, taking care of children, keeping a tidy home and attending to the needs (and often rules) of their husbands.
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 I had lunch with a friend yesterday and the topic of past lives came up. He shared with me that he was told that he was an old soul and that in one of his past lives he was a monk.
As I recalled the conversation this morning it got me thinking about my own past lives. Nine of them that I have recalled on my own so far (plus more that I have been told about). Not the entire life from start to finish, but scenes, bits and pieces. I believe each of them were significant at the time the memory came to my awareness to facilitate an understanding or remembrance that could serve me in that moment, and each carries a fragment of who I am today. They are interesting, and not so interesting, great and ordinary. I remember being a Celtic healer, I remember being a man hunting in the woods with a bow and a knife so that I could provide for my wife, I remember being a native American woman, I remember watching my village burn down as a young woman in Asia, I remember having dark skin and laughing while running barefoot through a lush landscape, I remember being a tall and slender dancer, I remember being a guard for a queen and I remember being a boy with horse. Meditation, Thursdays & Manifesting
 Events, people and emotions from your past are likely resurfacing now or will be soon. These are memories you thought were resolved, put away or had already been dealt with. You are being asked to re-examine traumas, family secrets and possibly difficult memories as part of your process for growth. You may see little reminders, signs, pictures, articles, headlines, movies, etc., make their way to your awareness in an uncanny way that reminds you of something from your past as it tip toes back to be dealt with in a different way. It needn’t stick around for long, it’s just popping back in to be neutralized with new and fresh understanding.
This morning, as I sat contemplating and trying to understand a crystal message I was to deliver to the collective today, my eyes landed on a hawk feather resting on the cabinet under my TV. I crossed the room and picked up the feather I was gifted a few months ago (one of many serendipitous and freaky-cool occurrences this past summer) and just held it.
 This message came to me almost verbatim while on a walking meditation as I pondered the usefulness of political signs in yards. As we approach the upcoming presidential election it seems odd to me that we are asked to choose sides and perpetuate a system of polarity. ** Whenever I get messages while walking, I use my phone's voice memo or notes application, and dictate it via seri as it comes through.
 Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last six months, you’ve probably experienced some changes lately. Actually I take that back. The only thing I know of that lives under rocks are roly polies, at least that’s how it goes in my yard. And I don’t think much changes in their world, but then again, what do I know about roly polies? I think it’s safe to say that unless you’re a roly poley, this shit-show we call 2020 handed you some changes.
 This morning I was thinking of something I wrote years ago describing what it was like to be a single mother of two. After a little digging, I was able to get a copy of it. It was posted on my MySpace blog eleven years ago on June 10, 2008. That would have made Rachel 9 and Megan 14. Even as hectic as life was back then… I kind of miss it. Here’s to my daughters for changing my life in the most fantastic, transformative awesomely unimaginable ways!!
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Writing releases the thoughts you didn't know you had.
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