I make my living doing advanced integrative bodywork in Austin, Texas. I use four main techniques: craniosacral therapy, biodynamics, Zero Balancing, and orthopedic massage. As standalone treatments or integrated as needed, depending on my clients’ needs and preferences, these techniques can accomplish the following:
Schedule a free 30-minute consultation so I can learn about your jaw issues, do an evaluation, and discover if we’re a good match for successful treatment.
Schedule a 75-minute TMJ Relief session (can be right after the consultation if that time slot is available on my online scheduling program).
Join my TMJ Relief Program, designed to create long-lasting relief by offering 5 sessions in 4 weeks along with an email after each session with education, exercises, supplement recommendations, and more.
You would need to be in Austin to receive a session, but the Facebook group is open to people anywhere who are seeking to address their jaw issues. The educational units available in the group include teaching a relaxed mouth position, jaw exercises, self-massage, relaxation techniques, terminology, sleep positioning, and more.
If you’re interested in joining the group, click this link, answer the three questions, and you’re in!
Here I sit in the middle of my wildly imperfect life, in my 1959 trailer, in my bed that also serves as office, looking out a cracked window with cracked trim, seeing a spot on the wall that needs touchup paint, listening to birdsong through the thin metal walls.
I am not a good housekeeper. Clothes have been sitting in the dryer for two days. Dirty dishes are piled up, waiting a cleansing. The floors need sweeping, vacuuming, and mopping. My sofa’s upholstery needs cleaning. My coffee table holds piles of papers that await further investigation. (At least the piles are sorted. I know where to find stuff in the chaos.)
There’s large pile of books waiting for me to show up, feel gratitude, and then touch each one and see if it sparks joy. I’d like the ones that do to somehow fit perfectly into a bookshelf I have, yet I know me and this is laughable. That will not happen, and this is a never-ending issue. So many books, so little time. Audible, Kindle, and podcasts have not even made a dent in my book hoarding problem.
My huge trailer has sunk over time, because it was never set up properly in the first place in 2011, with gravel and cement pads under the supports, and now the door scrapes on the wooden steps when I open and close it because the steps haven’t sunk. I can hire someone to jack it up and re-level it — and put some cement pads under the supports to slow the sinking — or I can dig to deepen the steps, or get out a saw and cut the bottom step off. Maybe tomorrow.
I have problems, and these are just some of the ones to do with my home.
I floss my teeth and clip my nails in my car, on the way to work. Mostly at red lights.
At work, the walls are thin, and sometimes we have three practitioners working on three patients at the same time, and someone’s talking and everyone can hear it. It sounds like the adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons.
When the HVAC unit right outside my office window turns on, it sounds like someone blew hard into a didgeridoo, and patients have literally jumped on the table from the deeply relaxed states that I’ve worked so hard to induce.
I’m co-teaching a series of classes in April, and so far, no one has signed up.
So. Problems. They dwell in every area of life: home, work, self, relationships, just getting through each day. I’ve had a lot of problems, and some were really difficult. Some can never be resolved — I can only make peace with.
I have made mistakes, some of them serious. I have held myself accountable for making them. I have punished myself. I have been in denial about how bad certain problems were, fearful of the truth. I have felt shame.
Today it seems I’m having my own personal day of atonement.
Please forgive me.
I love you.
~ Ho’oponopono prayer I recently had an opportunity to sing to a friend and have them sing it to me. so.powerful.
I am happy to share with you that I actually have resolved a lot of problems, and that having them made me more resourceful than I would be if I had never had them. Problems bring out creativity and expand your capabilities. You cannot buy that with your perfect life.
I also love that quote, a problem shared is a problem halved. Your new problem may be easily resolvable if you share it with someone who’s resolved it already or has resources you don’t, and you likely won’t know that until you share. Most humans love to be part of the solution, in my experience, although a few will judge you for not having your life all nailed down and tidy. But you probably didn’t want to know those people anyway, and their day will come.
My heart chakra is feeling open and vulnerable and tender now. I’m having a problem with someone dear and not sure what my right action is, so meanwhile, I’m going to put the dirty dishes to soak, get those clothes out of the dryer and put them away, and get started on the book sorting. And sing to myself.
It’s a coolish, rainy morning here in the outskirts of ATX. Haven’t heard the mockingbird yet, but a cardinal made itself heard just outside my trailer. The rain now hitting the metal roof is drowning out all birdsong. It can get quite loud during a heavy downpour!
A friend texted me yesterday that her mother, in Missouri, is passing. She got to talk to her on the phone, texting me later, “Lots of Love exchanges. She said goodbye and to take care of myself.” The mother was conscious, in no pain, but very weak.
That’s a good way to die. I’d like to be conscious, unmedicated, and not in pain when death comes for me. It’s got to be quite the experience!
I wish I could tell you afterwards what it was like, but that seems to be against the rules. “Just one more blog post, please? This is too amazing not to share!” But I don’t think you can bargain with death. It might play with you, but it always wins, in the end.
Today: loving my matcha/sitting/breathing/downloading early in this day, then hairdresser, then biodynamic session for my friend who’s losing her mother, and then a visit with a shaman to work on some emotional/empath issues that i haven’t been able to resolve on my own.
Some friends have been studying with this shaman, and I look forward to meeting her and experiencing how she works. I received a yummy practice session from one of those friends, now studying energy medicine, who told me about a class for empaths, but the class had filled, so I’m doing 1:1 with the shaman.
I’m seeking something of a superpower for me: the ability to not feel others’ deep suffering. I can suffer well enough from my own losses and traumas and don’t need to experience the broken hearts and minds of others in order to be compassionate and supportive and resourceful. I can be more useful with a healthier boundary.
It’s the biggest downside of being an empath that I can think of. If you’ve been a reader for a while, you will know that calling myself an empath is new, something I’m starting to dance with. Once it occurred to me, a lot of mysteries about me and how I’ve chosen to live began to fall into place.
What is being an empath good for? You tell me. It served extremely well once, may have saved my baby daughter’s life, but there’s a lot of weirdness, and some fun, that comes with it, so far. Premonitions, insights, auras, dreams, beginner’s mind, flow states, obviously empathy. I have marks in my hand indicating clairvoyance, but I don’t practice it.
There are some superpowers that with the right teachers, I could probably develop. Not sure I need or want to, though. For now, becoming a healthy empath is my intent.
I’ve begun paying more attention to the people and environments that are nurturing and those that are not. I had to go to the mall a couple of weeks ago. The commercialism — the bigness of the “buy this — enter this store — take this free gift bag” messaging — was overwhelming. Giant words are scary! Pushy people are scary! It was not a friendly place, and I felt like an alien — I wish I could say that was unusual, but it’s not.
I felt my resistance and stayed focused on my errand. Found a chair and closed my eyes and just breathed while waiting for a genius to replace my phone battery. Once outside under the big sky, trees in view across the vast parking lot, so much better.
I notice I have better rapport with intuitive feelers who may also be empaths. I’m so lucky to know and love a few!
If you are an empath and are reading this, what has helped you? Books, people, classes, practices, learnings. I want to hear it, please.
The rain has paused and the mockingbird is singing its heart out. Enjoy this promising day.
What if…something about you that you believed was your worst liability — for instance, surviving a devastating trauma and learning to live with it the best you knew how but also accepting that it’s embedded in your bodymindfield and part of who you are — actually drew someone to you for a healthy reason?
And what if…you had a really long and difficult time finding your place in this world, finding your people and your livelihood, and you learned that you had a personality type that 1% have — and the other 1%-ers are introverts too, so good luck finding them, right? — and then you met someone who’s so close who seems capable of being a mirror that reflects you back to you, and that you can do the same for them?
I’m just going to shut the fuck up now and take this in.
I’ve been thinking about useful delusions, the beliefs that help us cope with the harsher realities of life. I’m talking about common, everyday delusions, not hallucinations or psychotic delusions.
I like to believe there’s going to be a tomorrow.
For some people, there isn’t.
I like to believe I will see the people I love again, many times.
Sometimes that doesn’t happen.
I like to believe the people I love know how much I love them, even if I haven’t told them lately.
They may not know what I see and adore in them.
I like to believe that I will continue to enjoy good health.
Until I don’t, because I’m mortal.
I like to believe that when I go to sleep, I will wake up.
I knew someone who didn’t.
I like to believe that goodness will prevail, and so will truth and beauty.
Sometimes they don’t.
I like to believe I can make a difference.
Sometimes I can’t.
I like to believe I have control over my life.
So much is beyond my control. Politics, economics, the environment, imprints, conditioning, ancestral energies, blood type, genetics, the weather, my own non-conscious mind…
I like to believe my plans will actually turn out how I planned them.
Nuh uh. Nope. Nada. Planning is cool. Just leave room for surprises because they are gonna show up.
I like to be optimistic.
Haven’t I just given you a bunch of reasons not to be?
I like to believe I will again see those I’ve loved who have preceded me in death.
I don’t know if that will happen.
Without useful delusions, the universe is a random and chaotic experience. Useful delusions bring comfort — and perhaps most of the time, they are true.
They can also be inspiring, giving us energy. If you aim high, you may achieve more.
Like perfection: perhaps your useful delusion is an ideal. Perhaps it gives you direction. Perhaps your non-conscious mind is leading you. Listen!
Just keep in mind, not always. Life includes shocks, losses, regrets, betrayals, conflicts, helplessness, sickness, death. It takes courage to face that truth, especially when it’s not in your face. It’s sobering.
You don’t have to think about it every minute. Just take it out of your pocket and acknowledge it every once in a while.
Sometimes I have second thoughts. My wild mind gets half-baked ideas that are so exciting, and the next day they don’t look that good. I took down my most recent post that was like that. It’s just not ready for public consumption.
So. New day, new topic. Please note I am not saying what follows to brag. I hope saying it gives those who need it encouragement.
For someone who was traumatized by a sudden, tragic, violent loss in childhood, who as a result had PTSD for decades before it was even a diagnosable malady — life can be good again.
I wake up happy to greet a new day, on most days. I feel balanced, grounded, centered, open, resilient, buoyant, strong, like a fountain constantly replenishing and renewing. I have more than enough.
Perhaps these good days are even sweeter because of the past. Trauma survivors, please savor and enjoy every good day, every good hour even, that comes your way.
It’s not as if the trauma in this bodymindfield is gone, over, done. Even when you’ve done a lot of work to remember, sort, get perspective, feel, self-soothe, reconcile, and heal that wounded self, a scar still resides in your nervous system. But it can disappear for long stretches of time.
You can work with your autonomic nervous system to rebalance it so that you read and respond to actual threats and to safety appropriately, but in reading what psychotherapists with 40 years of experience have to say, trauma is scar tissue in the psyche. Scar tissue will never be as healthy and resilient as unscarred skin. It’s more fragile. It’s not organized the same way at the cellular level. You can work with it to make it more pliable and reduce the scarring, but it will never be as if the trauma never happened, the skin unscarred.
Also, obviously, trauma resides in your memories, which are connected to your ANS. How often do you need to revisit those memories? Not that often for me, any more. I want to mention that some of the memories from the time of the trauma remained veiled from my conscious mind for a long time, and sometimes a memory shapes our behavior, unbidden.
Trauma is definitely something you want behind you on your timeline, not in the way of denial but in the healthy manner of moving on with your life, because healthy life beckons after trauma, if you let it. It may start with one peaceful hour.
Investigate peace, and savor it.
Facing forward, sometimes trauma from the past sneaks ahead and gets right in your face. Boo! Your ANS, which is instinctual and not really all that smart, interprets something as a threat that simply isn’t. Something happens in the present that unconsciously reminds the part of your brain that’s trying to keep you safe of a time when you were unsafe in the past, and you react sharply, as if past were present, get flooded with stress hormones, experience the fight-or-flight dance going on.
Hopefully, the thinking part of your brain will kick in to help you evaluate the situation! Are you actually in imminent danger? If the answer is no, then you get to wait it out while your system rebalances itself, recovering from the dump of stress hormones. Acupuncture and supplements for adrenal depletion can be very helpful.
Beautiful self-care is required when a memory hijacks the ANS and there is no actual threat. Be ever so kind to yourself. Rest as much as you can. Make beautiful cups of tea. Slow down. Light a candle and watch it burn. Take a long fragrant soak in the tub, preferably with Epsom salt. Just breathe. Listen to lovely music. Move your body with care. Do restorative yoga. Walk in nature. Spend time with a loving friend.
Afterwards, trauma resides in memories and the ANS. Build yourself a vast toolkit of self-care resources for the activated times.
Trauma can also play a huge role in your beliefs. We are run by our beliefs, and some of them are outside our awareness. Feeling cursed? Been there. Having bad luck with relationships? Been there. So many questions. Why me? Am I being punished? What did I do to deserve this? How can anyone love me? How could God let this happen? Does God love me?
What are some things you have believed about yourself, your life, your character, your worthiness, after a trauma?
At this point, all I can say about belief is to frame it in the healthiest way you can. If that means you acknowledge that you encountered misfortune — something that has happened to a lot of people throughout human history — and understand it’s just the way life as a human can sometimes be, and don’t take it personally, that seems like a great start. You didn’t cause this, you didn’t deserve it, you are not being punished, you are not cursed. You ran into some bad luck, that’s all.
This is how you build resilience and move on. If you need a little healthy delusion, I say go for it. If rocks or essential oils or photos of Ramana Maharshi soften the harshness, use them. I do.
Beliefs are about what’s important. Identity is who you are. By working with your beliefs, you start to change your identity.
We live our lives inside a huge mystery. Theoretical physicists say that two thirds of all existence consists of dark energy, and no one knows what it is. I just love this, my favorite new factoid! We.Don’t.Know.What’s.Going.On.
So feel free to make something up that works for you, that gives you strength and courage and takes the weight of oppression or unworthiness off you, so you can rise up to meet the rest of your life. Why not?
By all means, take credit for and celebrate the good stuff — for taking right action, or coming to understand what that means or if that was even possible then. For persisting in the face of hardship. For recovering some of your mental health. For those who understand and accept you, or are willing to make that attempt. For self-care and self-compassion. For bonding with all of humanity through your compassion for all suffering. For finding your path.
After trauma, you get to work with your autonomic nervous system, your memories, and your beliefs. Exploring and reframing your beliefs are where you can make the most difference. Have courage. You’re worth it.
Yesterday was rough. A dear friend for over 20 years was in the hospital having breast cancer surgery with preparation for reconstruction. We’d had ceremony Wednesday night for support, a gathering of friends to hold her and another friend with a serious health issue in our big collective heart as we move through this difficult part of the journey, walking each other home.
I shared part of that ceremony with three other women, and we laughed a lot. Fishermen’s Friend does that to people. May our laughter contribute to the healing of all.
Dear goddess, bless you for the gift of levity in the face of the unknown.
The surgery was longer than expected — 9 hours. Pauline’s older sister Marie was there at the hospital with her, and I was Marie’s contact person to post progress in the ceremony’s Facebook event for all to see.
Surgery started at 8. By 10:30 am, Marie shared that the sentinel lymph node that was removed and examined was cancer free. Good news. Marie said the surgeons expected her to go to the recovery room about 3-4 pm.
At 5 pm, I’d heard nothing and contacted Marie. Marie texted that Pauline was in recovery but she (Marie) was still waiting for the doctors to come talk to her.
And then, finally, the news came that both surgeons were pleased with the outcome. Whew.
I also did some deep digging and writing yesterday morning to a friend on something he’d challenged me to examine. I love doing that kind of self-examining work, and I needed time to let it cook into coherence.
It takes attention to go within so deeply. I went back to a time when my legs went out from under me, the beginning of not wanting to be here, having learned very young of the existence of unspeakable cruelty in a very personal way. Wrote it, sent it, went out to meet the day.
After my morning obligations were met — and my networking group laughed a lot — again, thank you, dear goddess — I came home and crashed. I needed my own space and stillness to let my earlier self-examination continue to unwind its gifts and flow through me with attentive care.
I lay in a heap of exhausted sorrow and realized this happens when I go there. It depletes me to remember. This is why I don’t do it often and not just for anybody. It’s always for me, really. I could have said no, but I was curious about where my behavior was coming from too.
I cried. My tears felt good and tasted salty.
I didn’t get stuck with the raw bleeding heart sensation. It was there but wasn’t as intense. It’s open and tender today, a bit achy.
It’s vulnerable, revisiting a trauma. Sometimes the truth — or a truth, because when the spiral comes back around, truth will be different, with different insights — is hard fucking won.
I learned something valuable about myself, that I need to push, and sometimes I push against others, and it’s probably not very pleasant to receive. I come across as blaming and misunderstanding, rightly so, on a superficial level. I grasp at an excuse to push. And really, it’s an indicator that I need to set a healthy boundary and perhaps offer a challenge myself.
Where does this behavior come from? I push to get out of the box, the box of being violated, disrespected, dishonored, crushed, silenced, dominated, overpowered, overlooked, robbed of my agency, minimized, underestimated, isolated.
I push to make space for me, to stand on my feet, connected to heaven and earth with the horizontal embrace of humanity as well, life force flowing through me freely.
I am a troubled person too sometimes, and I’m working on it. I’m trying to think of a name for the troubled part of me, because I can, much of the time, come from a healthy place, and when this troubled part comes out, I’m usually aware of it but sometimes not, and I need others to help me see it so I can do my healing work.
I’m learning toward Harriet, because I don’t know anyone named Harriet. “I’m wondering if Harriet would like to say something.” “Hi, Harriet. What are you experiencing now?” “Harriet, what do you need?”
Do you have any other suggestions for a name?
Eventually my energy moved toward equilibrium, and to cheer myself up, I remembered my favorite cartoon, What’s Opera, Doc? I must have watched it half a dozen times. Elmer and Bugs sing Wagner. Elmer is pretty funny, but Bugs is my cartoon hero. He’s brash, witty, unpredictable, a wisecracking carrot-eating trickster — and oh, yeah, he’s Jewish.
Third time: thank you, goddess and Chuck Jones, for the gift of levity.
Then the good news about my dear friend’s surgery.
Feeling so much appreciation for my offspring, my sistren and my brethren, for the ability to process and learn, to dive for a fish and come back up with one in my hands. Today, it’s all good.
Sitting in my favorite writing spot, staring out the window as spring unfolds upon the land here in Austin, Texas. There’s a mature tree on my property, a volunteer planted by nature, that is fully laden with white blossoms. It may be in the apple family, malus. It doesn’t bear fruit and has thorns, and butterflies and bees love those blossoms.
Yesterday, an intense phone conversation. Attempts to set things right, correct misunderstandings, set boundaries, wrestle for domination, with no shouting, but needing to be fierce and interrupt. Two very different ways of using the English language were struggling to be understood.
This is the closest I’ve been to having a fight with someone in years. It was healthy, timely, and deepening, in my opinion.
“The meaning of your communication is the response you get.” That’s a presupposition in NLP. What does this mean to you? Do you check to see if your words are understood?
Meanwhile, I was watching butterflies alighting on blossoms, feeding, fluttering away.
How do you know when you’re out of your cocoon, when you’re done turning and are ready to emerge and spread your wings? My full emergence is yet to come. This wasn’t it. Or maybe it was. Sometimes metaphors only go so far.
I like my verbal communication to be personal, simple, and clear. When I’m working with another person professionally or just having a long conversation with a friend, I like to listen and use my touch in just the right place or use my words to say just the right thing. It’s like seeing where the cracks are and bringing the light that gets in. I like to be accurate and clear. Best case, it penetrates, heals, and adds to their wholeness. Click. Breathe. Yes.
Sometimes it takes a while to get there. Some bodies and psyches are confused, including mine, at times.
I do not yet know if there was anything healing for my counterpart in yesterday’s exchange. I mind a lack of healing, because that is the intent.
I met it as best I could and still felt prickly enough hours later to leave my house to dance because movement and rhythm help me come back into myself.
I don’t enjoy conflict and have often fled from it. Sometimes it’s important to say who I am in a world that underestimates me, to plant myself and stand my ground and let my hard-won worthiness be known.
I felt strong in my center line throughout, connected to heaven and earth. When I felt pushed off center, I recovered my balance.
Once upon a time, I was grocery shopping at Central Market and encountered a former colleague who had married and had a child since I’d last seen her years previously. When I’d worked with her, she presented as a working woman with no interest in being a mother, so this was a sea change in her life and I was interested.
Her baby girl was in the child seat of the cart — a beautiful blonde chunky monkey six to eight months old. I remember her name was Eliza, named after one of Barton’s springs, because mom was a regular swimmer there.
As mom and I were catching up on our respective lives and I was intuiting the power of love that had changed her life, transformed her from serious career woman to wife and mother, this baby girl was having the time of her life in the cart. Wriggling, writhing, leaning, arching, twisting, waving all her limbs at once in various directions, cooing, babbling, in constant motion, with a look of uncensored delight on her face.
And so there I am, having an adult conversation with the mom while witnessing this child having the time of her life. The time of her life times many more, I hope! She was feeling the rapture of being alive, and it was a joy to behold.
People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life. I don’t think that’s what we’re really seeking. I think that what we’re seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances with our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive.
Honeys, she was channeling pure, strong life force, spirit, bliss. I don’t know what to call it. It’s beyond verbal, a marvel, a strong reminder of the Beloved amongst us.
It’s been years since that day. I don’t recall what the mom and I talked about, but seeing/feeling that baby experiencing that state imprinted on me.
I’m reminded of this because I recently witnessed the rapture of an adult human with whom I was conversing. I was taking in his words, which were like a waterfall as he got on a roll, and I was keeping up, focusing on the content of what he was saying, and his words were coming quickly, touching on this and that like a dragonfly flitting about, in a torrent, and at some point I just couldn’t keep up with the content. I just watched his face and received the energy that he was transmitting, and saw that he was beautifully mad and wise and blissful and free, living the rapture that was shining from his happy face, like Eliza.
Later, I felt disappointed in myself that I couldn’t keep up with the content, and I misinterpreted some words he had glanced on. He felt defensive and misunderstood. Haven’t we all had enough of that? He called me on it, thank goodness.
I was wrong. My fears got the better of me, I got to look at that, and I decided to give him my trust. May we find better ways to verbally communicate that celebrates the flow of rapture and fosters deeper understanding.
Learning right relationship is like being a cocoon. The caterpillar doesn’t know what it’s going to become after it munched on those plants and became suspended in stillness wearing a gorgeous green suit with elegant gold trim.
Inside my suit, I turn, face a new direction, rest, turn some more, holding space for what emerges.
I’ve been waking before 6, lying drowsily in the dark, under the covers, all warm and snuggly, surrounded by pillows, luxuriating in not having to get up and (usually) not feeling like I didn’t get enough sleep and need to get some more shut-eye.
This daily journey from nonconsciousness to consciousness feels so good to take it slowly. Feeling my warmth, my body weight surrendered to gravity, I notice that energy is pouring out the soles of my feet — or maybe pouring in. Not even the entire sole, but a circle around K1, Bubbling Spring, where the kidney channel begins. The force is strong there.
The little part of my brain that’s always going, “But what does it meeeaaaannnn?” doesn’t know what that’s about except that it’s healthy. Am I letting out too much or being replenished? Don’t know. Maybe connected to earth element because feet, right? Powerful point, powerful channel, kidney chi.
I may doze a little, but when the light starts to return, I get up and pee and return to sit in my bed and just sit. Yeah, I have beautiful, fancy meditation gear, and I sit in my bed.
I used to think of it as meditation, but now I like to just call it sitting. Sitting with what is. I tune into breath and body, sounds, and I enter a state of integrity and subtle bliss. I notice sensations, thoughts arising and dissipating, sometimes an emotional tone. I open up and make myself available.
Sometimes my thoughts are strong and sticky. I use my will to return to stillness, over and over. Sometimes I command my unruly thinker to be still, and it actually obeys, which is amazing and gratifying. I like to go deep into the swirly energy currents and let them wash me inside and out. When I am being breathed, I’m there. No will needed. Just surrender.
After sitting, breathing. Current practice: kapalabhati, the 4-7-8 kriya that Dr. Fulford taught Dr. Weil, and nadi shodhana.
I make myself a cup of matcha (with Berkey-filtered water heated to 160 degrees F because I’m that kind of person) and return to my bed, stare out my window, hear the noise of birds, traffic, trains, and the motors and beeps of heavy construction equipment, because Austin. The city is reaching the country.
I come into some clarity, and I simply need to write and share. I’ve realized that it’s probably not a good idea to text my early morning downloads to the possibly unprepared dear ones I’m fortunate enough to have in my life, at least until I’ve had an opportunity to check in. Still, there’s that need to express.
Guess what? I have a blog, and you’re reading it! I used to post more personal writing here but haven’t for a long time. I can do that again.
So…I’m back, my people! Here we are with my new strategy: morning pages for all to see, being intimate in a way that’s safe for me and my associates in this sometimes crazy, dangerous world. You didn’t want to know the particulars anyway — you like melding minds, and here’s my contribution. This business of being human requires courage and boundaries and discernment and trust, and a whole lot more…and that’s what’s coming up today.
Some things I will be writing about: finally figuring out that I’m an empath and learning how to be a healthy empath because sometimes it is quite troubling and draining.
Also, what the fuck is right relationship and how can I be/do/create/collaborate on that?
And also, being an autodidact. Being both ordinary and extraordinary because so are you and let’s talk about it. And whatever comes up that’s appropriate to share here.
We all learning here on this bus. That’s all for today, lovelies. Be well.
People ask me about this because I’ve worked on it and continue to work it, in my personal life and as a professional in healing arts. I’ve documented bits of my own healing processes in this blog: from a severe childhood trauma, 20-year-old injury to my sacroiliac joint, a hiatal hernia, leaky gut, and more. I guess I have a little bit of street cred.
P.S. I’m still learning.
We live in a world with broken people and broken behaviors in it, including us and the things we ourselves do. Sometimes you know you’ve healed. You’re done. Sometimes it’s more like a spiral that you revisit as you get on with your life, mature, and find the resources to heal even more deeply.
You need breaks — because healing can be intense and you need to rebalance and integrate, which happens mostly in the non-conscious and is part of the process.
Even on your deathbed, the possibility for healing exists. We are all works in progress. It is a hero’s/heroine’s journey complete with allies, mentors, obstacles, blind alleys, discoveries, expansion, adversaries, stages/gates, divine aid, a transformative learning experience every step of the way.
Healing is multifaceted. It can be physical, mental, emotional, social, spiritual, seemingly by itself or in any combination, or all of the above, as well as outside of these realms beyond our capacity to understand. Everything is hitched to everything else, and we don’t know what “everything” is. Two-thirds of the universe is dark energy and no one knows what it is. We live inside a huge mystery.
It’s not necessarily linear. We can use linear strategies — I want to get from Point A to Point B — and it’s always a good idea to leave room for quantum changes, because they happen. People get visited by angels, get messages in dreams, recognize signs that provide direction in mundane life, health issues spontaneously disappear. And more. Always, and more.
Healing takes skill, and you can learn to do it, from your own experiences, from experts in it (healers, therapists), from non-professional others who’ve healed themselves, from getting informed about it (please be discerning, don’t believe everything you read, and maximize what’s helpful to you — if it’s hurtful, minimize it, but denial is generally not a good strategy).
Sometimes healing doesn’t work, or it is partial. It’s not exactly something we control. We are all mortal. The body wears out eventually, no matter how well you take care of it. Accidents, epidemics, natural disasters, unhealthy people with agendas or weapons or leadership roles exist. Accepting that anything can happen, that everything living has a lifespan, gives us a deadline, so to speak, and can prompt us to do some of our finest healing work. Who do you want to be next year?
There are issues that we simply don’t yet have the knowledge to heal. We are creatures of habit, conditioned by the past, and often those habits detract from healing. Examining and releasing your dysfunctional conditioning — beliefs, habits, patterns that don’t serve — is important.
Waking up is a synonym for healing. What is your place in the universe? Who are you? Why are you here? What’s your purpose? What do you bring to the table? What do you want to bring to the table? How can you make the world a better place, one day at a time, one conversation at a time? What is real? What is delusion? How do you know?
Life and death are of supreme importance. Time swiftly passes by and opportunity is lost. Each of us should strive to awaken. Awaken. Take heed, do not squander your life.
~ Dogen Zenji
You may think you’re alone with your suffering, but you’re actually not alone. Someone, somewhere, has gone through something very similar and come through to the other side. Seek them out, learn from them, learn from each other, share resources. Shame keeps you separate. I like Brene Brown’s work on shame.
Everyone gets wounded. Everyone is vulnerable — although, word to the wise, find people to share with who are compassionate, who can empathize. Not everyone is. Develop your compassion, including self-compassion.
There are some prerequisites: first, you need to believe that healing is possible. Beliefs are powerful. They run deep. They often run the show without your conscious awareness until you make it your business to become aware of them and question them. Is it true? Check out Byron Katie’s The Work to dive in.
Next, in order to heal, you have to allow yourself to heal. This is important, even when you are going to a healer. Yes, healers can “do stuff” to you, but you are the one who lets it work. This is a skill. Surrendering is a skill, and it has to do with allowing yourself to be open to change that’s beyond your control. , and it
This can be quite scary for some. Please recognize that needing to be in control may be exactly the thing that keeps you from healing. Healing is bigger than the you that you know, and it’s mysterious. Healing means taking risks to allow the unknown to happen, and it also means expanding into a bigger version of you that you’re not familiar with yet.
If you could heal using only what you can control, how’s that working for you? Wouldn’t you already be healed?
Finally, you already are a healer. When you get a scratch, it bleeds, scabs over, the scab falls off, and the skin has knit itself back together. Hurts and disappointments diminish over time and possibly, with perspective, may even come to be seen as blessings in disguise that called on you to grow and heal.
As long as you are alive, life wants you to heal and provides some resources. You can get familiar with and cultivate those resources.