Working My Way Back to You, Faith

16. December 2011 · Comments Off · Categories: blog · Tags: , , , , , ,

Karen Hager asked the other night if I still consider myself a Christian.

I don’t — but that doesn’t mean that I’ve given up faith.

No doubt, the tangles of the fundamentalist community caused much suffering. No one wanted me to be gay, including myself. (Read all about my angst here.) Faith meant to distrust mind and heart, but also have belief in Jesus and the redemption found in the cross, the ultimate symbol of suffering. Faith that we’d all be in heaven someday — if we made the cut. “Truth” meant in Christ only.

Not in myself. In fact, I was taught to highly disregard and hold my life in constant suspicion.

Though I left the church in my mid-20s, I still needed to find my way back to faith – not the faith I once learned but the faith that has carried me through every moment of this life. The faith in which I was born (again).

Truth — my truth — walks as closely as faith. They are, hand-in-hand, my guides.

It’s a curious thing that Jesus didn’t answer Pilate when he asked, “What is truth?”

Well, what is faith?

It was drilled into me that faith is belief in that which is unseen. That was a tough row to hoe, as I’m a tangible kind of girl.

However, if God exists in all of us — if we are the walking, talking version– then we can have faith in our being. Our being which is God. (Shivaya means I bow to the God/truth in you.) No religion has a lock on faith. Faith exists and is freely available to all. It doesn’t require any other labels.

Faith: the absolute, ultimate commitment. To whom? You.

Faith: believing that you can actively heal yourself — even from a serious lack of faith.

Faith: having the courage to live your life in the fullest way possible — then actually do it.

“Possible”, of course, is whatever possibility means to you. Which is where unseen nicely comes into play. Envisioning the life of your dreams as the life of now.

Even when the money is perpetually tight.

Even when our partner turns away.

Even when we walk with unanswered questions, undiagnosed lumps and the weariness of daily existence.

Faith can never be shaken once we trust in our presence. To say, yes, I’m here. To live your life in a way that is summarily satisfactory. And then choose to end and begin again.

Faith really isn’t about why you are here, though it’s an excellent topic to examine.

Faith is the unshakable belief in your essence. You are here because you are here. You chose this particular ride, after all.

The trick, the magic, the opening,  is to walk every step — in faith.

You, Out in the Open

24. November 2011 · Comments Off · Categories: blog · Tags: , , , , , ,

I’ve been running in the metaphysical world for so long that when people mention ghosts, “weird” occurrences or fearfully return to the Tarot, I don’t even blink.

In my essay, “It’s Never Too Weird” from The Reluctant Tarot Reader, I mention how some clients are apologetic and often wince when revealing their latent psychic abilities — and I soon laugh with them after pointing out my various Tarot accoutrements. However, I understand the need to hide behind a rationale facade after dealing with religious pressure and/or scornful voices, both inner and outer. We’re taught in this convoluted world to poo-poo anything that can’t be seen or touched — a prescient dream, for example — yet the majority believe in angels or some form of “God”.

I grew up in an evangelical community who taught me two important lessons: be discerning and have faith. They drilled a sense of distrust for anything that didn’t match up to their particular brand of Christianity, and also the need for absolute faith.

Same goes for intuitive ability. Be discerning and have faith. What I’ve learned over the years is that if you’ve got the gift of “seeing” — in whatever form it manifests — it doesn’t go away. It waits. Perpetual reminders will come — for example, strangers who say that you are a healer or recalling whispered moments with your grandmother over a Tarot spread. In the midst of your shame or discomfort, your gifts wait to be used.

Why? For what purpose? To heal. To guide. To warn. To understand that there is more than this physical existence (and I hope Peggy Lee agrees now…wherever she may be.)

What do past lifetimes have to do with this fear, this reluctance to embrace our intuitive gifts? Everything. The fear from certain clients is palpable — hell, even with people I meet after they find out what I do — and I can’t help but think that it emanates from a previous experience. You know, the burned-at-the-stake-or-beheaded kind of experience. The Crusades. The Salem Witch Trials.

You get my drift.

The fear of invasion, torture and punishment still remains in our etheric memory. It reminds me of the story of a British woman who had a stroke and immediately started speaking fluent German after recovery, though she hadn’t known a word beforehand. What do we actually remember? Where does it remain in us — and how does it affect us presently?

I’ve had to work through my own issues of being a reader/psychic/intuitive, especially when I’m out in public. I’m uncomfortable being exposed because it almost feels dangerous — more than the fear of being laughed at or dismissed. It’s an anxiety that I’ll be “known” and it will place me in some sort of danger.

Now, I realize it isn’t the 1600s anymore. No one is going to throw me in jail for being a Tarot reader (at least not in Vermont). I have a very good reputation in the community. I feel safe here. Still, this nagging sense of exposure stays with me.

I recently had a massage with an awesome healer who can sense past lifetimes while touching the body. She told of one particular lifetime where I had been a scholar and the head of a cloister with like-minded sisters. We hid ancient knowledge in our writings and attempted to keep them safe for future generations. There was a vicious invasion led by religious men who destroyed our books and killed us (and lord knows what else). The interesting twist? One or two of these men are now part of my present family and trying to make amends.

The greatest lesson? That knowledge still exists in me, no matter how many bodies I inhabit and shed. Apparently, I am finding my sisters once again in this lifetime to remember: knowledge ultimately cannot be destroyed — and this is the time to share it.

This has brought some peace to my secretive nature — and why I have an acute sense of “invasion”. It helps me share more of who I am while healing the past. It connects me to that inner knowledge and I begin to trust, again.

So, how can we deal with our fear of being an “out in the open” intuitive / psychic / healer?

1. Take it slow. Consider it a lifelong exploration.

2. Talk to healers and wild teachers who cross your path. Don’t dismiss them if they don’t fit your “picture” of what a teacher looks like.

3. Pay attention to the consistent reminders. This includes dreams, song fragments and “weird” occurrences.

4. Have faith, trust your path and be discerning. The “New Age” can often be the “Old Age”. Step carefully.

5. Most importantly, heal yourself. Heal your fears. Face your shame. Learn to nurture your being. Start there. Go no further until you grasp that in healing yourself, you become a great healer. It starts with you. Find out what it means to be devoted to your inner teacher. That’s the real guru – in you.

Pleasure as Success

02. November 2011 · 7 comments · Categories: blog · Tags: , , , ,

My friend the chef said to me yesterday on the phone, “I really admire the way you blend rest and work. It’s a perfect business model.”

I didn’t think she was calling me lazy, so I pressed her for more information.

She continued. “You never let work get before pleasure, and you give yourself space to rejuvenate every day. You know exactly what you need and allow it. If more people did this, it would be a happier world. I see you as someone who knows how to manifest exactly what you want.”

As much as this secretly pleased me, it also made me uncomfortable. Why? Because I’m a nutjob.

My response? “I’m glad that you do, because I don’t see myself that way.”

In the interest of full disclosure, this conversation came directly AFTER the one where she innocently asked about my calendar this week. It’s a light one and I felt defensive answering the question, and slightly ashamed. Rent was just paid and I felt the lightness of the wallet, too.

Big triggers, baby.

But there’s a lesson in all of this, and spiritual teachers pop up to remind me: this is easy. It’s not a big deal. Figure it out but don’t linger there. Move on to richness, as nothing is permanent but a sense of wonder.

That just added to my irritation, but knew that I was at a cuspy spot. The squishy one. It wasn’t time to crank the radio and play with millions of brain scraps. It was time to ask: what the HELL is bothering me about her question? About not having a “full” schedule? About feeling broke when I don’t end up with the expected $$ number at the end of the month?

And it came down to this: I feel guilty, less-than, for not working hard. For being able to take off and play whenever I want, even if the sense of not enough cash, not enough cash nags at me.

I also set myself up. This (whatever “this” is) means success: this amount of cash after I pay my bills, or this amount of clients, or this amount of a nest egg, or this amount of play in the public.

If I don’t meet it, I’m not successful.

Oy, the webs we weave.

It’s about security. My place in the world. And this amount in the bank will somehow make me feel secure.

Then I turn around and say, “Really, Raven? C’mon. You know this gig. You’ve done it many times. Cash is great, and helpful — but it’s not about the cash. What you need always comes. The bills are paid. You eat amazing food, live in a gorgeous space, have a fabulous reputation and work as much or as little as you want. Cash is great. But you’re doing what you love right now.”

Yes. This is true. (Surrounding myself with numerous professional chefs also greatly helps.)

The big-ass pea in my mattress is the idea of nurturance. And pleasure is the plaything of nurturance.

I had a dream where a honeybee struggled in a web. I wanted to free her but knew that the spider had to eat. So, I watched the spider paralyze her and felt sad — but didn’t interfere.

The immediate translation was the sweetness of life being sucked out. When I continued to process the dream with a friend, I remembered that spider is “Creativity” in the Animal Medicine Cards. The bee I viewed as a “worker” bee.

Time to embrace creativity. Time to let the worker bee die.

The truth of the matter is: I’m a full-time healer. Shivaya Wellness fully supports my life. This is a huge accomplishment — and can only keep growing.

Yet, I haven’t allowed much play in life. My responsibility gene has been a driving force – I have to do this because who else will? My numerous moves and relaxed attitude may seem like play to others, but I know my brain. And a taskmaster tyrant has lived there for far too long, telling me that a 40+ hour, bust-my-ass-until-I-exhaust myself week is REAL work and that life isn’t life without constant pressure. Life isn’t life without a full schedule, 100+ unanswered emails and a stream of needs crying from every angle.

Isn’t it time to not be enslaved to our genes? Our belief systems? Our inner tyrants?

Isn’t it time to allow pleasure to call the shots, nurture our hearts and heal our bodies?

Isn’t it time to play?

I think so.

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