This is so perfect! When I think I’m losing someone’s love, I’ll watch this again. Very comforting.
Month: April 2014
Alarming
I awoke this morning remembering something that happened only four days ago. It is a metaphor for the chaotic sorrow and upheaval I experience right now. It seemed like a dream at the time, and now even more so.
Alarming
I circle the vast college parking lot for a parking space.
Circling, searching, circling,
searching, circling,
searching,
There is no space left for me, until finally,
I find one.
I open the door to get out,
but my alarm goes off.
HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! ! HONK! HONK! HONK!
How to stop it?
I don’t know.
My hand travels the dashboard
Searching the buttons, the knobs,
searching the buttons,
the knobs,
HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! ! HONK! HONK! HONK!
I have to stop.
I’m too loud.
I disturb everyone.
Then I remember
There is no one inside in the surrounding parked cars.
.
HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! ! HONK! HONK! HONK!
My hand searches the dashboard.
Touching, pushing, twisting, pounding,
touching, pushing,
twisting,
Pounding
HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! ! HONK! HONK! HONK!
I look around and then notice someone two cars away.
She keeps her head down, completely focused on her cell phone.
Shielded from the noise.
I can’t go to class.
I feel abandoned.
HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! ! HONK! HONK! HONK!
A macho-sized truck on magnum sized tires circles the lot,
Circling, approaching, slowing
circling, approaching,
slowing,
Who?
Will he help?
Do I dare ask?
HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! ! HONK! HONK! HONK
I exit my car, step out in his path, and wave my arms.
He slows,
stops,
and leans out.
Can you help me?
His eyes soften, and he says,
Click the key on—then off again. That should do it.
I reach for his hand and thank him.
He drives off—and disappears.
I believe in Angels.
Roots
At the Roots of my being, I realize I am okay, but my tendency is to worry and fret the future.
“There is a Sufi saying: “The things you try to change but can’t, are the things that aren’t supposed to be different.”
Leading out
A friend recently said to me, “Gosh, I didn’t know you struggled with feeling unworthy. You always seem so up.” Perhaps I came by such trait by accident. It didn’t help that a dark cloud of not-being-good-enough hung over my Mom most of her life, or that the theme song of my early years in the convent was, “Oh, Lord, I am not worthy. . .” Or that we nuns were urged toward perfection every day of our lives. It’s a wonder I emerged with any capacity at all to kick, scream, yell, or fight my way out of the dark paper bag of depression that I sometimes still inhabit.
View from the Sun porch
I spent a couple days at my sister’s place on the coast. The view from her sun porch was as magical as the view of the ocean from her garden. We traded Tarot readings, while surrounded by potted plants, crystals, seashells, and the sunny view from every window. By the time I returned home on Sunday, I felt completely infused, transformed, and renewed. Everyone should have a sister who lives by the sea.
Unworthiness
According to Abraham ( Abraham-Hicks), our sense of unworthiness keeps us from receiving our hearts desire. I’m talking about all we consider missing in our lives. I’m an expert at unworthy. I’ve spent decades cultivating this aspect. In the convent, we constantly aimed for Perfection, which was extremely frustrating since we were only human. We should have been cultivating self-love and feeling good-enough.
Years later, I still struggle with accepting my humanness. In the end, it was one the main reason I left the convent. What Jesus really wanted from me, conked me on the head one day.
Jesus became HUMAN so that we would accept that we too are Divine and Human.
Each of us is totally good enough–entirely worthy–just as we are.
Seems a simple enough concept.
However, it’s taken me years to finally accept that I’m worthy, that is deeply and entirely lovable, just as I am.
Not one iota of change needed.
James Gilliland
These two posts are a departure from my usual writing, but essential to understanding the general flow of the Mind of this Former Nun. Since leaving the convent, I’ve been on an unending–as well as unorthodox–quest for spiritual truths. I have most recently found Quantum Physics, which has expanded my Universe (blown my mind) beyond my wildest dreams. I also embrace Crop Circles as messages from other worlds, which of course includes UFO’s.
I have met James Gilliand (see my previous post), founder of ECETI (Enlightened Contact with Extra-terrestrial Intelligence), and honor him as an enlightened teacher of our times–a sort of ambassador on Earth for enlightened extraterrestrial beings. The man is remarkably humble and in touch with what really matters to me.
Power Ups
This film is taken at ECETI Ranch by James Gilliland, who is photographing this sequence. Sue and I have observed hundreds of UFO’s along with dozens of other folks for the past two summers in that same location. We sat at the base of Mt. Adams with James and stared at the heavens for a couple hours at a time. It was a totally amazing and mind expanding experience.
Whether to Share
I’ve been sloshing through the memories of my convent years, tossing out and adding to the pile of memories I’m inclined to share. Guilt threatens me at every turn, especially when it seems I’m whining or not being positive enough. We were brainwashed those days, so much so that we still bear many (though invisible) mental scars. I have no intention of casting a shadow on any of the women with whom I lived. It was the institution, rather than any individual that perpetrated the inhuman conditions we endured. I did encounter my share of prickly characters, though I now can’t blame them. They were simply reacting in their own way to the same conditions. I shy away from revealing those negative aspects, except as they applied to all of us. Thus, I continue to write my version of my nineteen years behind those walls. Which I continue to do, one chapter at a time. Until my book (Once Upon a Convent) is finished.
