Brenda's Bicycles

After another beautiful week of inner work and growth, I wake up on Monday, April 16, 2012, again not feeling like writing. But today the issue is not one of sadness or depression. My friend Pyper is flying all the way from Alaska to visit me this weekend. There is much to do, and I am feeling quite excited.

I still fully intend to sit down to write, but after digging out an old cell phone that was gifted to me over a year ago, all hope of writing is gone. I first head to a small nearby café to put a couple of dollars worth of credit on the phone. Having not been used for over a year, I am not even sure if it will work … but yippee … it does. I now have a convenient way for Pyper to contact me when I meet her in Guatemala City next Sunday … just in case one of us is delayed and/or we have a hard time finding each other.

Given my excitement and inability to concentrate, I surrender to another task. My apartment desperately needs cleaning … bathroom, sinks, floors, table tops, countertops … all of them are quite dirty and dusty. After sweeping up large piles of hairballs and breathing whirlwinds of dust into my lungs, I begin to cough. I have done enough cleaning for the day, and fun movies soon consume me.

Confusing Emotions

During the night, I wake up with fluid and congestion in my lungs – the same type of fluid that metaphorically followed me for a month after opening my high heart in late December. I also have emotional memories from several vague dreams … faint memories of deep fear. Intuitively, I recognize the returning metaphors of “fear about not being able to breathe my life force”. For now, I simply take note of the intuitions and return to sleep.

As Tuesday morning unfolds, I surrender to several unexpected waves of gut-wrenching, teeth-chattering, dry-heaving emotional sobbing. It is almost funny, because I have absolutely no rational-mind understanding regarding the origin or nature of this emotion. I only know that it is flowing through me, so I surrender to it and let it run its course. Each time, after about five or ten minutes, I meditate and bring in light, the emotion vanishes, and I am again fine for a while. Fifteen minutes later, another wave blindsides me and I repeat the process with unattached surrender.

For whatever reason, my body is physically tired and I lack motivation to write. And because of these waves of Unidentified Flowing Emotions (UFEs), I am unable to do much productive writing anyway.

State Of Expectancy

By 11:00 a.m., I am starting to feel as if I should walk out to Keith’s home, wondering if perhaps he might have time to discuss these weird UFEs with me. Intuitions tell me to go for it, but my head tells me this is silly, that I am fine and do not need Keith’s guidance. Rather than fight myself, I opt to pull a few tarot cards to get an external energetic confirmation. To my shock, in response to the question “Should I go out to Keith’s house?” I pull three powerful major arcana cards. There is no question in my heart … I am going.

“C’mon in the kitchen,” Keith invites me in when I mention what is going on. “We can talk while I work on the computer.”

In the middle of explaining my morning, Keith interrupts me, indicating that his guidance is that I am going through a new and powerful level of doing inner work with Higher Energies without a need to involve the rational mind.

“You are in a state of expectancy,” Keith then shares a new guidance with me.

He explains that the word “expectation” can have both negative and positive connotations, where, according to one of his favorite teachers, “expectancy” has a very positive meaning of unattached expecting – expecting that new levels, new joy, and new things on the way.

“You mean like my friend Pyper coming to see me?” I ask curiously.

“No, not just that, but more than that,” Keith responds. “You are returning to a childhood state of expectancy of joy and beautiful things coming your way.”

A Good Place

“I’m feeling deeply emotional again as we continue talking,” I interrupt Keith with tears forming in my eyes. “I have no idea what these new emotions are about, but they are overwhelming and powerful.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling it too,” Keith responds with teary eyes.

But I can tell that Keith’s tears are a combination of both feeling the unidentified emotion flowing through me AND his being in a state of joy – as if he clearly senses the power and significance of what I am doing and where I am going.

“I’m getting that you are in a very good place,” Keith congratulates me.

“I’m just continuing to trust my process,” I respond with a teary smile. “I believe my cough last night was to get me into a quiet non-writing state where I will be more present … more able to allow things to flow without my head getting in the way.”

“That could very well be,” Keith does not confirm or deny my intuitions as I give him a quick thank-you hug.

Teenage Social Nightmares

I am in such a weird and tired mental state as I return home, that after scribbling a few quick notes, I simply go back to bed, focusing on relaxing my clenched jaw, arms, and legs. Ninety minutes later, when I attempt to stand up, I am extremely light-headed and wobbly – unsure if I am even capable of assisting in a rare daytime gathering of bagging freshly ground chocolate.

Literally forcing myself to walk out to Keith’s, I am soon using all of the emotional strength I can find to maintain my sanity. As I work, I am listening to several nearby people engaged in shallow conversation that reminds me of High School nightmares (my perception based on my process). Then, with about an hour to go in our group process of measuring and sealing warm liquid chocolate into plastic bags, a young woman deeply triggers me.

While Keith is occupied in other matters, she goes into his house, changes the music, and cranks the volume up to full blast. I have suddenly been involuntarily thrust into a boisterous party environment that freaks out my inner teenager’s inhibitions. I am an extremely uncomfortable fish out of water, feeling like a spaced-out freak on a foreign planet, a displaced alien teenager with no hope of ever fitting into my surroundings.

Keith soon turns the volume back down, but my inner triggers have been fully activated. I am now deeply regressing through teenage social nightmares – into intense social dysfunction, not fitting in, and not even wanting to fit in. My head continues to swim in dizziness from hours earlier. It is all I can do merely to tolerate the environment without running away. The moment we finish, I thank Keith, explain my dilemma, and head for the door.

I love these people helping today, and I absolutely know that what I am experiencing is not present-day, nor is it about them – that it is a regression to excruciating teenage emotions. But the experience and emotions are so overwhelming that I struggle to not identify or attach to the experience as being real in the now.

Alien Visitors

In my email inbox, I quickly encounter a “Oneness” quote from Rasha, one that reminds me to, “Approach with gentleness and with compassion the beings with whom you share experience in this time frame. For each of you is performing to the very best of his abilities, playing out roles that have been preordained and not without a certain measure of discomfort all the way around.”

I fully realize that, from my perspective, what happened on the porch this afternoon was a beautiful stage play, performed uniquely on my behalf to help me return to this freak-out state of social insecurity. It is obvious that I am being guided ever deeper into the issues of having been a very shut down and dysfunctional teenager.

To top off the synchronous setup of the day, I spend the evening isolating myself while watching a movie Keith had shared with me, one called “The Green Beautiful”. As it turns out, this French movie with English subtitles is all about several aliens (from a more enlightened planet) that come to visit Earth, and the humorous and crazy struggle they have as they attempt to understand and fit into a society that is stuck in left-brained logical-mind materialism.

Overloaded In Past Pain

Wednesday morning, I awake at 4:30 a.m. with another round of intense hacking coughs – coughs that launch mists of moist spray from the fluid in my lungs. Logic tells me I have pneumonia or something like it, but my heart tells me I am continuing to deal with energetic metaphors of deep emotions (water) clogging my ability to breathe life force. I finally return to bed for a couple of hours of broken rest, but again get up at 8:00 a.m., feeling tired, lethargic, and unmotivated.

After spending time watching spiritual videos and trying to raise my vibrations, I finally surrender to the Unidentified Flowing Emotions (UFEs) at around 10:00 a.m., simply asking Higher Energies to fill me and help me. As I do so, another inexplicable round of UFEs rages through me. For ten long minutes, I sob and dry-heave as my teeth chatter uncontrollably. Then, as quickly as the unidentified emotion began, it again ceases to flow.

As the unattached observer, struggling to maintain a higher non-identified perspective, I sit down at my computer to record the UFE thoughts that flow through me.

“I am so unmotivated,” I begin to type. “I hate people … I am a forever loner/loser … I am filled with self-loathing … my head is cloudy with heavy swirling energy.”

Social Stuckness

When I arrive at Keith’s porch at noon, ready to help with setup for the afternoon chocolate ceremony, I share details of this crazy ongoing journey with UFEs – emotions that are now showing themselves as related to social issues.

“After all the gossip, I am extremely hesitant to cry on the porch anymore,” I explain to Keith, “but there is a lot of emotion flowing through me right now and I don’t know how to fully release it.”

“Brenda, if you need to cry today, then please do it,” Keith encourages me. “Do what YOU need to do regardless of what others may think. This is part of your process.”

When the setup is done, I sit outside on the porch, meditating, deeply struggling, and not wanting to be social with anyone.

As the Glow Meditation eventually gets underway, I begin my own silent journey, gradually allowing myself to connect deeply with my social pains and fears … to my hidden childhood hatred toward popular, shallow, surface-level, happy, party-type people.

As I search for memories that might explain the crazy dysfunctional feelings, going deeper and deeper, I suddenly remember something that happened in August of 1967. I was twelve years old, preparing to enter seventh grade.

Sordid Secrets

At this tender age, I was an extremely naïve and innocent little boy, already struggling deeply with gender issues, desperately hating myself while trying to figure out the inexplicable feelings that flowed through me. I had a deeply rooted inner longing to be a girl, wishing some magic genie would steam out of a bottle and grant my deepest heart-wish. But alas, another part of me knew that I was nothing but an evil sinner that would surely be sent on the fast train to hell if anyone ever found out about my sordid secrets. These two sides of me battled incessantly, hating each other with a vengeance.

I was an ambitious little paperboy, delivering newspapers every afternoon as a way to stay busy and to earn some money. But another benefit I soon discovered was that while out on my paper route, I was free and alone to be myself. I soon collected a secret stash of girl’s undergarments – emotional comfort clothing that I wore underneath my jeans almost every day during my paper route. Somehow, this forbidden exploration brought me closer to the amazing feeling of being whole and complete – yet it also left me overloaded with guilt and shame.

One afternoon, while browsing through a small retail store, I saw a gorgeous little bikini for only $5.00. It took me a few weeks to find the courage to buy this treasure – a precious treasure that I kept safely hidden. I began to wear this swimsuit under my clothing while delivering newspapers. Eventually, the longings overwhelmed me. I desperately wanted to experience what it would be like to actually swim in my bikini.

One day, the inner longings consumed me. After purchasing a rubber swim cap – a cap I hoped would hide the fact that I had short hair – I mustered up the courage and did something that was destined to utterly destroy my social confidence.

Foreboding Pool Panic

After stealthily changing in a gas station restroom, I nervously venture out into the open air wearing nothing but my bikini and swim cap. Quickly mounting my trusty bicycle, I then ride nearly two miles through city streets before arriving at the municipal pool – the only swimming pool in this small rural town of perhaps 6,000 residents. Having completed the journey without incident, with no laughing faces or pointing fingers aimed in my direction, I confidently lock my bicycle up in a nearby bike rack and stroll up to the pool entrance.

There is no going back now. I am doing this.

To my horror, as I approach the entrance counter to present my season pass, a very popular twelve-year-old boy from my sixth grade class is standing on the other side of the counter. As he stares at me, he suddenly calls out my name with surprise. Without planning or thinking, I panic and run.

Seconds later, I find myself cowering behind a curtain in a small changing stall of the girl’s dressing room.

“What am I doing?” I freak out as my heart beats out of control. “I’m in big trouble. I have to get out of here.”

“There is a boy in the girl’s dressing room,” I hear someone yell out.

Feeling like a frightened and cornered mountain lion, I bolt for the front door and run like the wind.

Repressed Memories

The experience was so traumatic that I have no conscious memory of what I did after running away on that late summer day. I have blocked it all out. The only thing I know for sure is that no one ever called my parents and the police never showed up at my front door.

I can only assume that I rode my bicycle back to that gas station restroom and frantically changed into regular boy clothes … I can only assume that based on other struggles later in life, I must have destroyed and discarded that bikini and swim cap in an act of utter self-hatred, self-loathing, and sheer self-disgust.

One thing I do clearly remember, however, is going to school for the next six years, encompassing most of my teenage years, feeling like a total loser, always wondering, “Who knows about my horrible and shameful secret?”

Prior to seventh grade, I had been fairly confident in social arenas. Yes, I was already a culturally programmed sheep, but I was not yet a social loner and loser. Beginning in seventh grade, I lost all social confidence. Whether it was true or not, I absolutely believed that everyone was talking and laughing about me behind my back. I absolutely knew that one day someone would say something to indicate that they “knew” and that they would utterly humiliate me.

Hope Lost

In retrospect, I need to say a genuine “thank you” to David – the one behind the counter at the pool that day – the one that clearly called out my name in shock – the one that continued on to be very popular, athletic, smart, and on the student counsel in High School, etc…

Through all of those agonizing years, no one ever said a word to me about this swimming pool incident. I can only assume that David must have never shared my sordid secret with anyone else. In 1983 at my ten-year High School reunion – a full sixteen years after this incident – I approached David to apologize for my childhood behavior. He simply smiled and told me that he had no idea what I was talking about.

But such present-day understanding does little to help a tiny, struggling, twelve-year-old boy back in 1967 – a frightened child who absolutely knew that life as he knew it was forever over – that he had hopelessly ruined everything – that he would never again be socially accepted – that no one would ever again love him if they learned of his horrible secrets.

A Solo Journey

Back on Keith’s porch on this eventful April afternoon, while imagining and reliving these painful scenarios in my mind, I begin to cry. I keep the tears as quiet and muffled as possible while building up a pile of tissues on the ground.

Perhaps forty-five minutes after quietly entering this painful meditation, I feel Keith gently touch me on the shoulder.

“I’m working with my teenage social shutdown,” I soon share with Keith. “I am exploring intense twelve-year-old agony.”

“Keep working on it,” Keith encourages me before quickly moving on.

The next few hours on the porch are consumed mostly by rational-mind discussions about inner-work-related issues. Throughout these long hours, I sit quietly, alone, lightly crying and whimpering constantly.

I do not need Keith’s guidance right now and he knows it. And this is not an issue I would want to discuss in open conversation on the porch anyway. Just like that late summer day in 1967, this is something I need to do myself.

Help Please

A few hours later, as I manage to stop crying and bring a small amount of light into my crown and heart, a feeling of deep sadness continues to consume me.

“Help!” I quietly whisper to Keith when he glances my way during a short pause.

“I am dealing with issues of self-hatred from twelve years old,” I start to fill him in. “I have felt the emotions as deep as I can go, and I am now focusing on bringing in the light – but as I do so I am beginning to feel intense and deep sadness just below the surface.”

“You have been focused on age eleven-and-a-half to age twelve for a very long time,” Keith acknowledges that I am zeroing in on something very important.

“I don’t feel as if I can talk freely in public about this,” I ask for guidance. “Perhaps I need to schedule a private appointment with you tomorrow. What is your schedule like?”

We then talk briefly and generically for a minute or so … but do not schedule anything.

A Mother’s Love

After a while, a young woman comes over and sits by me.

“Can I hold you?” She asks with love.

“Yes, Please,” I respond, beginning to cry even before I move forward to allow her to sit and cuddle me from behind.

As this beautiful woman holds and caresses me, pressing my head into her heart, I begin to cry profusely. Deep waves of tears come and go for a very long time.

“Allow, Brenda,” Keith encourages me. “Go deeper. Her love is pure and unconditional, coming with no expectations or control.”

After perhaps forty-five minutes of surrendering to the emotion, but not really feeling as if it is taking me anywhere, I thank this woman from the bottom of my heart and tell her that I was imagining her as being my mother that was hugging me, giving me love that I was never able to receive.

“I feel the pure love,” I then speak to Keith, “but I feel as if I am still not allowing myself to receive it. I desperately want it, but am unable to allow it fully in.”

Vibrations Galore

As the young woman holds me tighter, I return to moving deep waves of tears. Soon, another friend joins us and places her head on my abdomen while embracing me right below my heart. I begin to cry harder as I mention a metaphor that is coming to me – that I have a huge wall preventing me from receiving this love. I am desperately trying to tear down this wall.

Then someone feels guided to start tapping me on the heart chakra, just above that nail-in-my-heart spot. Intuitively, I recognize that this is really helping.

“Please keep tapping,” I beg them.

Soon, I begin to tap just slightly below where they are tapping. Suddenly, I begin to sob, almost screeching and wailing – not quite, but close. The surfacing emotions are agonizing.

While this is going on, others around the porch are ohming and toning various sounds while everyone is holding sacred space for me. Intuitions and energetic feelings tell me that some energy inside my heart is attempting to flow down to the solar plexus, but is meeting blockages along the way. I want it to flow down, but something is subconsciously resisting.

I cannot explain it, but I gradually experience a softening of something hard inside – an opening of sorts. I do not know what it is or how it is happening. I then begin to feel as if more love is now coming in.

“Bring in more light and love now, Brenda,” Keith jumps in to further guide me.

I am in total surrender – at least as much as I will allow myself – feeling completley relaxed. And my heart is very strong, with a solid and powerful energetic presence in my upper chest, very much like I felt a year ago in that beautiful Valentines Day glimpse.

New Perspectives

“Brenda, after this kind of powerful work, don’t think … integrate,” Keith shares with me as the ceremony concludes. His tone is very upbeat and congratulatory.

Even though Keith is done, many people hang around to enjoy the energy of the porch. The woman who was assisting with my abdominal area sits and visits for a while. We talk a great deal about what happened with me, and about her ongoing journey with learning to understand the subtleties of fixing.

“What happened with me today was definitely not fixing,” I explain with a happy heart. “This was very empowering to my process, helping me go where I wanted to go. Fixing energy is usually disempowering, such as stopping someone’s emotional release by pulling them out of it in some way.”

“I know I have been blessed with a whole new perspective today,” I add.

The Subtleties Of Fixing

Suddenly Paul, who has been listening in, interrupts and insists that what happened to me today was no different from something I had called fixing a few weeks ago. Paul is especially lecturing and pushy in his emphasizing tone of voice. I can tell he is trying to force his point, to prove himself right and make me wrong. I can allow him to have his truth, but feel a strong need to first respond.

“Paul,” I ask him with loving courtesy, “can we please respectfully agree to disagree on this point. I can allow you to have your truth, but please, let me have mine.”

I then disengage from Paul, turning my attention elsewhere. I can tell by my inner emotions that he is still slightly triggering me, but I have no desire to further escalate and reenergize this pattern with him. I am rapidly learning that the difference between fixing and inspired assistance is often a very fine and subtle line.

A Perfect Setup

Keith is walking into town to have a dinner conversation with someone who needs his help … and I tag along for a few minutes.

“How did you like the movie?” Keith asks when I tell him about having watched “The Green Beautiful” last night.

“It was a very interesting metaphorical description of what I have felt my whole life,” I giggle back. “Just like those aliens, I did not fit in either; I have struggled with seeing many other people as shallow and strange.”

“In fact,” I continue, “ever since that age-twelve incident, I think I saw all popular kids, and those involved in party situations, as the aliens with whom I could no longer relate. I was terrified that they knew about me. I withdrew and was jealous while judging them as being sour grapes. I wanted to be one of them, but believed they were judging me – whether they really were or not – so I judged them first and further isolated myself. That is why the loud party atmosphere during chocolate bagging yesterday triggered me so much.”

“It was a perfect setup, a very painful setup.” I add a final realization.

Agonizing And Horrendous

As I ponder on my pillow, late on Wednesday evening, I realize that I built a huge wall around my heart some time after running away from that swimming pool in August of 1967. I believe that much of my muscle clenching, my rapid talking, and pigeon-toed walking also started at that same time. I cannot prove it, but I have no memory of any such behavior prior to that time.

After that endless nightmare began, I felt so much self-loathing and self-hatred that I did everything I could to stay out of the social spotlight. I began to talk extremely fast, so that if I did have to say something publicly, I could say it quickly and then get out of the way. I walked fast to get away from situations and to get where I was going without having to bump into people. I clenched jaw, arms, and legs in an effort to suppress energy flows … and as a result of my inward clenching I began to walk severely pigeon toed.

I abhorred myself at this age. It was agonizing and horrendous self-hatred.

A Clearing Conversation

As I get up on Thursday morning, I am very lethargic. Even though I feel fine, I am quite aware that deep emotions are flowing through me at the same time. It is extremely strange to actually feel quite good while simultaneously feeling very intense teenage emotions flowing through me. Perhaps unnerving might be a better word.

Shortly after 9:30 a.m., I walk out to Keith’s, knowing he is free, feeling intuitively guided to go out to spend some time talking. I have no idea why, or about what we will talk, other than that I want to share the swimming pool story with him.

I could probably do some writing today, but am feeling somewhat weird with all the emotional energy still flowing through me.

After quickly checking his guidance, Keith suggests a different possibility.

“I’m getting that you are doing just fine and do not need a session today,” Keith tells me. “All is well in your process for now. Why don’t we just have ice cream and talk about things.”

Soon, Keith has mixed up a double batch of frozen banana ice cream with chocolate – something he makes by juicing none other than frozen bananas.

For the next four hours, Keith and I engage in a beautiful, friendly, clearing conversation from a very healed perspective.

Cool Stuff

I find deep closure in discussing events on the porch from the past five months – doing so from a level of perception rather than projection and judgment. We hit on most of the major struggles and growth through which I have passed.

We talk a great deal about how I am learning to allow emotional energy to flow through me while working on finding a place of nonattachment where I can be both happy and functional while painful emotions – emotions that I do have to feel – simultaneously flow through me from the past (or from other multidimensional parts of me).

Keith reassures me that I am doing great in my transitional process of learning how to do this, pointing out that I am so focused on observing what I am doing that it appears to me as if I am attaching or identifying to the stuff flowing through me.

“But you are only observing, learning, and practicing,” Keith reminds me. “Love yourself and trust where you are at.”

“You have been doing some pretty cool stuff in your processing lately,” Keith reassures me. “You are just getting your bearings while finding a balance between working with Higher Energies and not wanting to feel the densities.”

Perhaps, one of the most useful outcomes of this powerful conversation is that I walk away feeling deeply validated for the perceptions I have had for a very long time – a validation that comes from a pure space of unconditional love without blaming or judging anyone. It is beautiful.

Rites Of Passage

As I arrive back at my apartment, I am again in two realities at once. On the one hand, I feel a peaceful connection to Higher Energies. On the other, I am nearly overwhelmed by a feeling of swirling energy and flowing emotions that flow through me. I have no idea what these Unidentified Flowing Emotions (UFEs) are even about … but they are very real and very powerful.

Just after 3:30 p.m., as I prepare to take a nap that I suspect will last me throughout the night, I check my email one last time. I find another beautiful quote from “Oneness” by Rasha, as follows: “You will be guided from within, at levels beyond your conscious awareness to navigate the depths of some of the experiential rites of passage. The keywords here are trust and surrender.”

I am definitely going through some very deep experiential rites of passage … and the levels are far beyond my conscious awareness. Literally, all I can do is to trust and surrender.

Brief Bursts Of Light

As I sometimes do, I am taking a brief jump out of linear time – jumping to a time two days later – jumping forward to late on Saturday night, April 22, 2012. I will fill in the missing gaps in my next blog.

After a long and somewhat frightening coughing fit while sleeping on a very hard bed in a tiny and dark hotel room in Antigua, Guatemala, I finally give in to a feeling telling me that I am supposed to be up meditating rather than sleeping. As soon as I sit up and focus on meditation, the coughing relaxes.

After a while, I am guided to return to an image of that young and innocent twelve-year-old boy who struggled so much in the summer of 1967. Several times in the last two days I have tried to connect with him, to send him love, to imagine myself holding and hugging him – but every time I feel as if I just cannot connect. The energy is simply not there.

Tonight, as I focus on this same task, I briefly connect to the excruciating agony and anguish of this frightened boy. As I do so, I experience bright flashes of light inside my head, as if coming from my third eye chakra. I have never been one to see many visuals while meditating, but these brief bursts of light are quite bright.

Inner Voices

As I continue attempting to unsuccessfully connect with that young boy as something “outside of me”, I suddenly realize that right now, at this very minute, I myself am regressed as being that young boy, feeling his painful and agonizing emotions.

Instead of imagining my present-day self as connecting with that frightened young man, I imagine myself as being that cornered little boy, trying to connect to my present-day future self and to our Higher Self. It is quite clear that I am all three, and that it is only a matter of linear-time perspective. This new approach works beautifully, and brings profound clarity over the next couple of hours.

Suddenly, a stream of powerful inner knowing begins to flow through me. It is as if this knowing is being downloaded into me as actual voiceless words – a profound inner knowing coming directly from my own Higher Self.

“Do you think you were alone during that excruciating time?” The words flow loudly in my head, having a very strong and powerful emphasis. “At perhaps the most frightening and crucial event of your life, do you think you went through that experience alone?”

“We create our own reality now,” The voices continue their silent download, “and we did it then too!!!!! David said nothing to others because we intervened in the situation. You never got into any trouble … you were not a victim … you were not a dumb-ass … you chose and planned the whole event as a necessary part of your childhood shutdown.”

“Not only was I there guiding and holding space for you,” I feel my Higher Self continue, “but you had a whole entourage of angels helping you too. It was crucial in your journey to destroy your social confidence. Had that not happened you would have gone on to be some type of brilliant scientist with a dynamic personality – having no motivation to turn to your spiritual path later in life.”

A Divine Plan

The channeled inner voices continue, telling me that on that dark night, and on other sleepless nights, I planned my psychic suicide, no longer wanting to live, believing my life as I knew it to be over. I get the strong guidance that at that time I psychically (unknowingly using my will) cut my energy channels , isolating energy flow from my heart, shoulders, hips, and all of my back side– which is the input/receptive side of all of my chakras.

As these insights come to me, I have several more light flashes in my third-eye chakra.

“It was agonizing, but we planned the whole thing,” the inner knowledge continues downloading “You were never in danger … no physical consequences ever occurred … it was all an inside job to develop enough self-hatred to shut you down as needed – socially, spiritually, energetically, and even intellectually. You had to be shut down, and this is how you arranged to do it. Just as you can trace how other past painful experiences all eventually led to beautiful results – this experience at age twelve was no different. It was not a stupid tragedy, but an amazing part of your Divine plan … of your own personal flow of creation.”

Life Saving Props

“The coughing right now is not your enemy,” the feelings keep flowing as midnight comes and goes. “The coughing was a necessary way to force you out of bed so that you could have this breakthrough and this profound metaphor of not being able to breathe because of your emotions.”

“There are profound parallels between what has been happening on the porch and what happened in your teen years,” the inner voices go on. “Just like you could not run away from interactions with Paul, you could not run away from that nightmare as a teenager. No matter what you tried, the nightmare only got worse and you increasingly felt that God just kept on abandoning you. This is the source of much of your God Drama. You hated God for that … for rejecting and abandoning you after all you did with your genuine heart.”

“It was all a massive stage play,” the insights just keep coming. “Just like you now see everything on the porch as a stage play, that is how your life was then too – your own personal holodeck of humiliation – humiliation designed to stifle and stop ego, just like on the porch.”

“The clenching, walking pigeon-toed, talking fast, broken nose and teeth, etc…,” the insights finally come to an end. “All of those things were just props to minimize ego, to help shut you down, to give you legitimate reasons to be dysfunctional … and to save your life from being totally lost in the conditioning of the world – so that you would eventually be in so much pain that you would have to leave the conditioning behind to search for a way to follow your heart.”

A Beautiful Teacher

Early Sunday morning, April 22, 2012, this flow of profound wisdom ends just as quickly as it began. I am left both excited and speechless. The downloading of understanding has been powerful. I no longer see that swimming pool incident as something that messed up my life. Instead, I now clearly see it as an event that created and sculpted the rest of my life – a life that has allowed me to find my way out of the box of traditional societal programming – a life that has taught me so much about the pain of human suffering, in both genders.

Were it not for that frightening day in August of 1967, there is no doubt that life today would be very different. While this lifetime of social and energetic dysfunction was not fun – not something that I would wish on anyone – it definitely has been a beautiful and amazing teacher. Each and every step of healing those dysfunctions and opening up the energetic blocks takes me one step closer to a profound inner license to shine my own inner light in a way that will help to inspire others in their own beautiful and unique paths.

Copyright © 2012 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved