I have been reading quite a bit recently, in preparation for future classes, and to cause myself to do a bit of a deep dive in regards to the subjects I think I know.
Every now and again, this sort of thing needs to be done, you have to challenge ideas about your past so that you can further evolve them.
Seemingly unrelated subjects, but very much in the milieu of this, I got to thinking about my beginnings as a practitioner.
My parents were New Agers. My siblings and I carried crystals as children, we spent time in the garden, we knew astrological signs, we read the Llewellyn calendar to determine when to plant our plants, and when to buy cars and make wise business decisions.
Add in my autism, (which back then the traits were tied to my learning disability of "Dyspraxia Nervosa") and you have a really weird kid. I was concerned about the movements of the clouds, the trees, the stars and knew when my bedroom door swung open at 3am it was probably my Grandma coming to check on me and say hello, but I should probably put a protective shield on myself just in case.
Or when the cricket snuck into my bedroom while I was asleep and sat on my chest chirping, two separate times, it was a sign of good luck. All I saw was a big, black, scary looking bug on my chest, and I would scream. My parents would wake up to check on me, and would laugh with relief to find it was only a cricket.
However, I was literally terrified of everything.
The world I lived in, where stones could heal, and you could begin to heal others with the right kind of energetic touch, where your dreams were trying to tell you something, and essential oils could help calm the mind, and vitamins could take care of any ailment you may find yourself having... Left me feeling not only as patient, but Physician.
That is a terrifying concept to a 6 year old. Especially when people start throwing names for your diagnosis out there, and they are Latin, and scary, and your parents start talking to you about therapy, (which you think means surgery) and people talk around you in whispered tones about your disability.
I felt that I was fully justified to freak out anytime I skinned my knee. I mean, full blown shaking and pale panic about it.
My father would scoop me up in his arms, carry me to my parent's bedroom (the only room in the house with a stereo), give me some scents to smell, a cold rag with water and a little hydrogen peroxide to wash up my wound myself, (because I wouldn't let anyone else touch it,). They would place a few crystals near the bedside, and I would lay down and eventually fall asleep, with the cold wet rag on my knee listening to Spectrum Suite by Steven Halpern.
On Sundays, we would gather into my parents room, hang out on their bed and listen to Montachello on the radio. It was an astrologer who would talk about various metaphysical and strange phenomenon for 4 hours or so. If you called in with a question, he would try to get insight by running a quick version of your chart.
We were all very excited when my sister ended up on the air once.
I remember that back then, there was a general consensus. Edgar Cayce was telling basically the truth, except for a few things he may have gotten wrong, (and no one is completely infallible, come on already!) and that Linda Goodman knew her shit. Everything else was kind of up to chance, but those were the basic tenants of being a metaphysician in the late 1980s.
Now, because there are so many opinions out in the air, it's hard to find consensus anywhere, and with the Age of Aquarius comes the age of full autonomy. This means feeling and thinking exactly what you think you should feel and act. The one thing I think people are not quite getting into the groove of yet is generalized and radical humanitarianism.
Today, I saw a bit of it, a general "I don't agree with what you are doing with your power, but I love you and respect your right to do it."
In our communities, we need to understand the shift that happened on December 21st, 2012. People are going to keep finding new ways to express their individuality, the only thing we need to do, as human being is to believe them when they tell us who they say they are.
That may change daily, that may evolve, but be that as it may it is our jobs to accept them for it. Radical acceptance within reason.
People are fallible and people make mistakes. People do terrible things, and yes sometimes those things are not easily forgiven. The Age of Aquarius is in part about learning HOW to forgive the unforgivable.
Sometimes, that just isn't possible, but we have to try.
For that to happen, however, people must take ownership for those things that they messed up.
I've messed up more things than I care to admit in my life. If I have wronged you I sincerely apologize. If I have hurt you, please know I didn't mean to and I hope you will accept my apology.
I love you all.
I have been reading quite a bit recently, in preparation for future classes, and to cause myself to do a bit of a deep dive in regards to the subjects I think I know.
Every now and again, this sort of thing needs to be done, you have to challenge ideas about your past so that you can further evolve them.
Seemingly unrelated subjects, but very much in the milieu of this, I got to thinking about my beginnings as a practitioner.
My parents were New Agers. My siblings and I carried crystals as children, we spent time in the garden, we knew astrological signs, we read the Llewellyn calendar to determine when to plant our plants, and when to buy cars and make wise business decisions.
Add in my autism, (which back then the traits were tied to my learning disability of "Dyspraxia Nervosa") and you have a really weird kid. I was concerned about the movements of the clouds, the trees, the stars and knew when my bedroom door swung open at 3am it was probably my Grandma coming to check on me and say hello, but I should probably put a protective shield on myself just in case.
Or when the cricket snuck into my bedroom while I was asleep and sat on my chest chirping, two separate times, it was a sign of good luck. All I saw was a big, black, scary looking bug on my chest, and I would scream. My parents would wake up to check on me, and would laugh with relief to find it was only a cricket.
However, I was literally terrified of everything.
The world I lived in, where stones could heal, and you could begin to heal others with the right kind of energetic touch, where your dreams were trying to tell you something, and essential oils could help calm the mind, and vitamins could take care of any ailment you may find yourself having... Left me feeling not only as patient, but Physician.
That is a terrifying concept to a 6 year old. Especially when people start throwing names for your diagnosis out there, and they are Latin, and scary, and your parents start talking to you about therapy, (which you think means surgery) and people talk around you in whispered tones about your disability.
I felt that I was fully justified to freak out anytime I skinned my knee. I mean, full blown shaking and pale panic about it.
My father would scoop me up in his arms, carry me to my parent's bedroom (the only room in the house with a stereo), give me some scents to smell, a cold rag with water and a little hydrogen peroxide to wash up my wound myself, (because I wouldn't let anyone else touch it,). They would place a few crystals near the bedside, and I would lay down and eventually fall asleep, with the cold wet rag on my knee listening to Spectrum Suite by Steven Halpern.
On Sundays, we would gather into my parents room, hang out on their bed and listen to Montachello on the radio. It was an astrologer who would talk about various metaphysical and strange phenomenon for 4 hours or so. If you called in with a question, he would try to get insight by running a quick version of your chart.
We were all very excited when my sister ended up on the air once.
I remember that back then, there was a general consensus. Edgar Cayce was telling basically the truth, except for a few things he may have gotten wrong, (and no one is completely infallible, come on already!) and that Linda Goodman knew her shit. Everything else was kind of up to chance, but those were the basic tenants of being a metaphysician in the late 1980s.
Now, because there are so many opinions out in the air, it's hard to find consensus anywhere, and with the Age of Aquarius comes the age of full autonomy. This means feeling and thinking exactly what you think you should feel and act. The one thing I think people are not quite getting into the groove of yet is generalized and radical humanitarianism.
Today, I saw a bit of it, a general "I don't agree with what you are doing with your power, but I love you and respect your right to do it."
In our communities, we need to understand the shift that happened on December 21st, 2012. People are going to keep finding new ways to express their individuality, the only thing we need to do, as human being is to believe them when they tell us who they say they are.
That may change daily, that may evolve, but be that as it may it is our jobs to accept them for it. Radical acceptance within reason.
People are fallible and people make mistakes. People do terrible things, and yes sometimes those things are not easily forgiven. The Age of Aquarius is in part about learning HOW to forgive the unforgivable.
Sometimes, that just isn't possible, but we have to try.
For that to happen, however, people must take ownership for those things that they messed up.
I've messed up more things than I care to admit in my life. If I have wronged you I sincerely apologize. If I have hurt you, please know I didn't mean to and I hope you will accept my apology.
I love you all.
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