spiritual awakening

“Miracles can happen, even to those who are small, flammable, and dressed all in black.”
― Lemony Snicket

This being a Flash Back Friday, it gives me the opportunity to recall events, places, people and bad hair styles from my past. So, when I sat down to write, this story of a mystical experience I had back in the day came to mind.
It is just one of many I experienced back then.

If you recall, I was having a hard time of it back in the early nineties.
I had a good life. Great job, money, travel, the whole shebang, but I had opened myself up to a very life altering spiritual experience – awakening is a better word, and it had knocked me on my ass – spiritually speaking.
(I wrote a few posts about it. You can find them under We Have An Agreement in the search section of the sidebar)

I was having a hell of a time staying grounded which has its own set of problems, the worst ones being, I HATED how I felt and I could find NO joy in life.

“If this is enlightenment? It sucks and you can have it!” I’d yell to no one in particular.

It is my understanding, garnered from the very extensive and exhaustive study of ME and my experience; that the Universe in order to keep you in the game, lays a carpet studded with mystical miracles at your feet. In a blatant display of showoffery, they are so IN YOUR FACE that as whacked out and pissed off as you’ve become – you still see them.

So, I’m a wackjob on my way to work a jewelry show, and I stop at a drugstore on my route to get my favorite gum at the time, Carefree peppermint. It came in a hurt your eyes, bright yellow package, with twenty four delicious sticks of yumminess that you’d pull out from the top. It was one of the few things that made me happy, so of course the drugstore was out of it. Nothing else appealed to me, so I left – gum less and grumpy.

As I pulled onto LaCienega and waited at the light across from the Beverly Center, I could hear the radio in the car to the left of me, even with my windows up, blaring the Rod Stewart song “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You.”
As I shot the two young men with the questionable musical taste, my best exasperated, too cool for school, are you f-ing kidding me, stink eye; the one closest, motioned for me to roll down my window.
Did I mention that they looked like angels? GQ model angels, with big white toothed smiles? But since it was West Hollywood I just assumed they were gay and going to ask for directions.

I rolled down my window at the longest red light in history, and the beautiful model/angel reached out to hand me something. I know I made a WTF face as I pulled my whole body to the left to be able to reach my arm far enough to take what he was so intent on giving me.

It had a bright yellow wrapper. It was a stick of my Carefree Peppermint Gum!
I kid you not.

I sat there, holding the gum, with my bottom jaw hanging in my lap, while the drivers behind me began to honk, as the light had been green for a second already, and they were very important and I was making them late. 

The two smiley guys were up ahead, the Rod Stewart song still hanging in the hair like cheap perfume.

If you know that section of LaCienega heading south, you know there are several lights in quick secession that are synced up in such a way that they are perpetually red.
It’s a joke, but not the funny kind, and if I hadn’t been on my gum quest I would have avoided it at all costs.

So in less than a minute I am again stopped next to my new best friends, who are still smiling, Rod is still singing, and I’m composed enough to mouth Thank You while holding up the gum.
We did that for three lights until they finally turned left. Either the song had finished or they were embarrassed that they had given me their last piece of gum.

Okay, so I knew that was weird. I’m not even sure I told anyone. I had turned so dark and odd at that point, dressing all in black with pennies in my shoes, that I don’t think anyone was taking anything I said seriously anyway.

Here’s the kicker.
When I got back to the shop after doing the show in Santa Monica for three days, I went about my usual mindless tasks, one of them being to check the answer machine.
Yes, early ninties, remember? Cell phones were the size and weight of bricks. We all had answer machines, and the one that day at work told me it was full.

73 messages.
Jeez.
Okay.
Press Play.

Have I told you lately that I love you?
Have I told you there’s no one else above you?
Fill my heart with gladness
Take away all my sadness
Ease my troubles that’s what you do

Yep. Rod Stewart, THAT song, every message until the tape ran out.

Explain that away.

I guess I just needed minty fresh breath and to hear that I was loved, and BOY did I!
Xox

Tell me the story of your miracle!

Xox

Here’s the audio if that’s what you prefer.
https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/rod-stewart-carefree

ELEGANT
el·e·gant
ˈeləgənt/
adjective: elegant
1.pleasingly graceful and stylish in appearance or manner.
“she will look elegant in black” (a reason why I always wear black, ha!)
synonyms: stylish, graceful, tasteful, sophisticated, classic, chic, smart.
antonyms: messy, unwieldy (hot mess)!

Oh yeah, I’ve talked about this. I cautioned you in the previous post.
We can aspire to it, aim for it, even pray for it, but enlightenment, spiritual awakening, whatever you want to name it, is rarely elegant.

And by rarely…I mean never.

There is a mine field of inelegance that surrounds becoming conscious.
You can side step the big stuff, like disaster and dis-ease, but you’ll still get your shoes dirty.
It’s kinda the name of the game.
If it was pretty; clean and easy, everyone would do it.

Take meditation for instance.
I can’t tell you how many friends have said this to me: When I started meditation, all hell broke loose.
It starts out all zen and blissful, with the breath and the inner peace. You will have that in your back pocket for life; but ask anyone who’s seriously meditated for a while.
Shit can hit the fan!
If you meditate every day, you literally change your brain…and your body.
You put the monkey mind in its place, and make your connection with source.

But source likes a clean link. It doesn’t like an old plugged up infrastructure, so it cleans and clears things out. When that happens, all your bad habits, your sabotaging self talk, your anger, hate, rage, lack of forgiveness, selfishness, greed, and jealousy, to name a few, are chased out of the shadows and into the light.

Get the fan.

This will set you free, but these guys won’t be graceful, chic or elegant.
They will give you the middle finger on their way out.
Meditation shook their cage, and they’re pissed.

Yoga is right up there too. A great practice, amazing for the mind and body, but it’s not just exercise, there is a spiritual aspect to Yoga that you can’t get around.
Yoga in Sanskrit means “the Divine Union”. Using the physical postures to bring the mind under control and join with the Higher Self or Source.

Uh oh.
Get the fan.

A regular Yoga practice will unleash all the usual suspects.
Anger will be released from your hip joints, sadness from your shoulders.
There will be heart openings, epic realizations, even tears.
It will free YOU as well…it just won’t be elegant.

Choosing the path less traveled.
Operating outside your comfort zone.
Mindful living.
Being of Service.
All call for making the tough choices, lots of “no’s” = Fast track to a more enlightened life.
Elegance…not so much.

Enlightenment is the loftier, more desirable pursuit of the two, but it has been my experience that you can’t have both.
Choose wisely.

XoxJanet

“Someday you are going to realize there is a tremendous difference in knowing the path, and walking the path”
Morpheus to Neo ~The Matrix

I hate to do this, but if you want to be caught up, you’re going to have to go back and read Parts I-III.
I’ll wait.

Ok, so now you have some of the back story.

This installment starts in late November 1993 and I’m going for my second session of “energy work” with that little Tasmanian devil, T.
I’ve wised up enough to realize this work has absolutely nothing to do with alleviating tension and sore muscles.
It is a “soul massage”. It is releasing very old and “stuck” cellular memory, in order to give my soul a cleaner slate. I didn’t have a full grasp of why that was a good idea, but like most things that were happening to me at that time, I was just “goin’ with the flow”.

T incorporated acupuncture needles this time. TONS of them. I had them all over my body. My face was covered, down my spine and the bottoms of my feet, which freaked me out. What if there was an Earthquake and I had to make a run for it?
When he was working on my spine, I started to feel very anxious, like an anxiety attack—so I told him to stop. With one wave of his hand, I felt better.

Shit, Where was this guy when I was getting my divorce?

After my previous session, which was my first, I became quite ill.
This time, I lost my mind.
Well, just a little at first, but I’m someone who REALLY likes feeling normal, and as I left normal far behind me in the rearview mirror, I shut down.
But first I got weird and kinda desperate.
I had read that putting pennies (copper) in your shoes could help ground a person, so imagine if you will, me at work with pennies taped inside my Jimmy Choo’s and Manolo Blahnik’s.  It didn’t help. I was out of clever options. Could a tin-foil hat be far behind?

Work…yeah, that was interesting. Thank God I ran the place, so I was there alone 90% of the time. I literally would be “out” of my body all day, every day. To the point that I would forget how to answer a telephone. Not what to say… I didn’t know how it worked! It would ring, and I’d stare at it, like someone from the dark ages seeing modern technology for the first time. Same thing with the fax. I also had trouble reading English.

While I was “out” I was freezing cold, but each day for I’d say a half-hour total, I’d pop back “in” for a visit. I could feel it start at the base of my spine with a warmth that would radiate to the top of my head. Once it got there, Me, the 20th century Janet, would be back!
That’s when I made sure I would listen and return the phone messages, and read whatever needed my attention. Oddly enough I have no memory of a single customer interaction. I know that can’t be true, this madness lasted for over three months, but apparently, I was able to fake sanity convincingly.

I was so afraid of getting fired or driving a car when I was “out” but my team, yes, I had a little team around me now, with T acting as the leader, and he assured me that the state I was in (Samadhi) was so sacred, that no harm would befall me.
Sacred Shmakred. But it never did.

When I wasn’t an emotionless zombie, I was suffering epic, massive anxiety. Fear was my constant companion.
I know, hot mess…enlightenment isn’t elegant. (More on that later)

I had one foot in this world, and another foot…somewhere else. Somewhere far, far, away, where I was assured I was needed.
My opinion was, hey, I have this perfectly good body right here, right now, I want to be present! So I fought the process. Tooth and nail. No flow going for me! I struggled every second of every day, and THAT was causing all my suffering.

You don’t fight Samadhi, you embrace it, or so I was told.

Nights were hard. I lived alone, for which I was partially grateful. On one hand, I didn’t have to make excuses for my behavior, but I felt extremely isolated.

God, nights are sinister.
I’d never really noticed that before. They are excruciatingly looooong and so damn black, so damn all the time in the winter!

T did his energy work on me, sometimes several times a day if I was particularly uncomfortable.
With him came that same bone dry bedside manner.
I remember, one day, laying on the bed, saying all I could see was black, and screaming that I couldn’t breathe.
Me:(gasping dramatically) I’m gonna die!
T: (calmly, almost bored, while thumbing through a People magazine) You are in Bardo, every cell in your body can breathe, not just your lungs, ask your whole body to breathe for you. How about if you quit fighting it? Surrender.
Me: I’m dying!
T: Then die.

Looking back I realize his calm nonchalance saved me. I can’t imagine how scared I would have been if he had been freaking out also. I’m convinced that that’s the best way to be in these situations. Calm and reassuring, not at all emotionally invested.

If I had smelled ANY fear on his part, I would have lost it…more than I already had.

The team was concerned that if I didn’t lighten up and “throw up my hands like I’m on a roller coaster” that the energy would fry my circuits. Everyone agreed, fighting it was not serving me.

“This is your new normal,” they’d insist.  “There’s no going back, you can’t un-know something, once you know it”

Shut up! And what does that even mean??

I swear, some of the people that look homeless and crazy on the streets, I’m convinced have never learned to ride the roller coaster. I feel for them, I really do.
I bet they have pennies in their shoes.

My friend at work, Sally, was the only person I confided in. She didn’t judge, even though it looked to her like her friend had flipped her lid.
When I felt particularly bad, I’d walk by her booth and we’d make eye contact.
Then we’d both throw our arms in the air and go “weeeee” and I’d feel a little more human and understood. She rode the coaster with me.

I’m making it sound like it was all hell.
It was mostly hell, but Samadhi brings with it some interesting party favors.
I think that happens to keep you engaged because every fiber of my being was checked out.
I did have some mystical, magical, miracles happen during that time.
Those will be next.

(To be continued)
XoxJanet

It feels more important in these buzzy, blurry times when branches of our government and many of our larger institutions have managed to sidestep accountability regarding their actions and decisions, that we, individually, must be held accountable.

Sorry, I’ll get off my soapbox now, but…
We can’t ask it from someone or something else if we’re not willing to answer the hard questions ourselves.

Before we step off the sidelines and onto the “playing field” of life, someone should hold us accountable.
What do we hope to achieve with our action?
How can we best express our vision?
What do we think we can add to the world?

That last one is the doozie because we already have enough “takers” in the world, we need the big-hearted “givers” right now. We ALL have something special to give. That I know for sure!

Also, to clarify, this does not mean to shout, or comment or tweet mean-spirited, non-constructive criticism from the sidelines. That is not making someone accountable, that is bullying. Ask intelligent questions, engage in a dynamic conversation. Don’t be a coward. Don’t be “that guy”.

I recently got inspired to start a group for “women in transition”. I’ve been talking to people one on one for a while, but a group? Even though the thought excited me, and even though I was encouraged to do so, I hesitated for months. I wasn’t sure I was ready to come out from behind the anonymity this blog provides…to get on that “playing field” so to speak.

But you’ve got to gear up and take that first step.

I did follow my intuition long enough to start to write the email I would send out.
I tweaked it a little bit every day, adding and subtracting things to better express what I wanted to say.

Then I sent it to someone I KNEW would hold me accountable, big time!
A few days went by without a response, and believe you me, I started to sweat!
Even though she had been encouraging me all along, I knew she had the ability to read between the lines, to feel the intention inside the words, and bust me on any BS.

She’s also highly intuitive so the day I was freaking out the most, she called…from her sick bed.
Am I surprised? No! Well, maybe a little, she has NEVER called me in the four years I’ve known her.

Here’s where it gets kinda funny. I had just been wondering if I should offer wine at this group. Just a thought, but it had just crossed my mind and I have to say, I had already decided it was a bad idea.

I guess the Universe found that thought so repugnant, that it roused my poor friend from her sickbed, to call and tell me this:
I love that you’re doing this.
Be clear. You are not offering a wine and cheese bitch session. (Got it!)
You are to apply the energy you have to drive evolution forward.
You are to approach this as a $10,000 a day life coach would, and drive a dynamic conversation. 
Got it? I’m tired, I’m going back to bed.

Gulp. Now THAT is holding someone accountable, and I love her for it!

I rewrote the email accordingly and (deep breath) finally sent it out.
Her response this time?
“Welcome home”

Who holds you accountable?

XoxJanet

Let me give a quick recap, for those of you that haven’t read parts I & II.
(But I suggest you do)
This is a recounting of the spiritual awakening that happened to me in late 1993.

Me, the shitty meditator, suddenly can’t stop meditating, and then crazy, mystical experiences ensue, one of them being a booming voice telling me: “We have an agreement!”…twice.
In my pre-technology search to find out what the hell is happening, I encountered an energy worker, “T” with whom I got a “body work” session.
There, now I think you’re all caught up!

I’ve actually been hesitant to write about what came next, because it wasn’t pretty.
But in the spirit of full disclosure, here goes.

I had the body/energy work, which wasn’t a massage, as my naïveté had led me to believe. His hands never touched my body. They radiated lots of heat, and gave me a tingling feeling as they passed about 6-8 inched above me.
Well, that’s a lie.
He poked and prodded my feet with such intense pressure, I kept yelping, and pulling away. His response? “Breathe through it”.
Thanks pal.

On my way out, he mentioned that I should get some apple cider vinegar to put in a bath, and soak 20 minutes to move out any toxins. He also said I may feel sick.
As I was walking around the Von’s near my house, getting the vinegar and a People Magazine, I started to feel nauseous. Let’s just say, I barely got home without defiling my car. I proceeded to projectile vomit all day and all night for 3 days!
I can remember in my vomit induced semi coma, calling in sick to work, drooling into my pillow and asking the Universe, or whoever would listen, what the hell was happening to me.
“Detox” was all I got.

“T” called during that time to check on me. He actually laughed when I told him how sick I was. “Good, get all that shit out” he said. I never did get used to his weird sense of humor and bedside manner. “It’s all stuck emotion; name it as it leaves.” So I did.
“That’s fear…that’s anger…that’s sadness.” I didn’t have to make it up, the emotion would name itself on its way out. I still do that to this day.

I did tell him I was worried I hadn’t kept any food down is three days, and he suggested I ask “them” to let the food stay, and not leave as vomit. That actually worked. It was so freaky to eat toast and tea, and a half hour later, have the vomit be clear. How does THAT work?

Also, I had no idea the Universe had a request line.

About two weeks later I met “T” for lunch, and he announced that I was ready for another session.
NO WAY, JOSE!!!
He just laughed, telling me that the first time is always the worst, and that mine was particularly ferocious because I am someone who likes “to move fast”.

Why is my process so funny to him, and how is it he thinks he has me all figured out?
He was fast becoming one of my least favorite people, AND
I went the next day for more energy work.

WHAT is my problem!!?? Have I lost my mind???
Not yet.

(To be continued)
XoxJanet