Category Archives: Spirituality

Sensitivity on Steroids, Part One

Oh, my lovelies. This is an uncomfortable post. A post that I both want and don’t want to write because…well…because…(I’m trailing off here in case it’s not obvious). How do I put this? “Just put it,” says a small voice in my head. “Trust that people will get it–the right people will get it.”

Then, cut back to an image of me absolutely squirming in my seat. Jumping out of my skin. Whirring away into the air like a puff of smoke. Gah!

I don’t want to publish this post because it will expose things, reveal even more of my tender underbelly, the part that I protect savagely, the part of me, ironically, that I can no longer protect by keeping hidden. The part that, due to recent circumstances, now needs to be opened up to the light, exposed…exposed…exposed…not closed off and shoved to the periphery. I have to start talking about this. And, by doing so, I *hope*, the need I have for such fierce protection, such armament, such a strong “Viking” mode that I have chosen to use and express from much of my life (and likely before this life) will soften. I *hope*.

This urge to un-mask and admit what I’m about to let loose into the world makes me nervous. Or, more accurately, it makes my ego extremely nervous. My ego doesn’t want anyone forming an impression of me as one of “those people”. It’s quaking at the thought that people will be afraid of me after reading this or nervous or stymied around me in some way. My ego is afraid that others will think I’m one of those “Sedona freaks” who believes in crystals, Tarot, meditation, and psychic ability. But, the truth is: I am. I am one of those people. I do believe in all of that stuff. I use those tools. I’m learning more everyday about so much of that stuff. I can’t control what others think of me. I need to own this part of who I am. So, I have to fess up. Tell the truth.

<Cut to a soundtrack of my ego screaming.>

Photo compliments of Robert Lukeman and https://unsplash.com/

Photo compliments of Robert Lukeman and
https://unsplash.com/

For the record: I have an almost debilitating social anxiety. I’m an exposed nerve ending. I’m acutely uncomfortable around other people. Always. I’m on edge almost all of the time. I’m exhausted by my interactions with others, not nourished or encouraged or built up. One or two people around me is fine, but anything more than , say, five people and I’m a mess. Inwardly. Outwardly, you’d never know that I was so uncomfortable, so on edge, because I’ve learned how to activate the “auto-pilot” and largely disassociate my way through interactions, parties, crowded sporting events, malls, public-speaking events, conferences, on-site work, airports, yoga classes, and so on. I’ve learned how to fake my way through situations that most others simply take for granted and never sweat. Speaking of sweat, I do it alot when I’m around other people. That’s how you can tell. If I’m sweating profusely, I’m anxious. It’s how I was wired from the get-go. I cannot change it.

A girlfriend of mine (really, more of a loving sister to me. I love you, LaVerne), and I were talking about life one day. We had taken a long motorcycle ride together and stopped in a small Route 66 town for some lunch. We sat waiting for our meals when the topic ventured into the realm of the psychic, which it unnervingly does with me often and is happening with more frequency as the years go on. In the course of this conversation, it occurred to me that my “anxiety” is probably something else. It’s not just “GAD” (general anxiety disorder). It’s deeper.

Que the dramatic music: Duhn, dunh, duhn.

The tiny tendril of a thought began blossoming inside of me and before I could stop it or edit it away, it hit me: my anxiety is probably tied to my heavily (and I mean HEAVILY) suppressed psychic ability. AGH!

There, I said it. In public. I can never take it back. I’ve published this post. It’s in the world. Hoh-shite! RUN! Move away. Disappear. Go live on a deserted island with no Internet. Never be seen or heard from again.

:::Deep breath:::

Truth is: I’m psychic. (Hey, we all are. Yes, even you, the one rolling your eyes). But, apparently, I’m really, really psychic. Or, so I’m told. The problem is: I’m deeply reluctant to be this way. I’ve run from this “sensitivity” for a very long time. I want to say that I’ve run from it all of my life, but I didn’t consciously know that I was like this until relatively recently. I had no solid clue until approximately ten years ago. And, to be honest, I still kind of doubt it. I don’t *quite* believe that I am. Why? because I push it away. I don’t work with it consciously. I don’t do readings on people. I don’t use it. I don’t like it. I run. I’m talking “on-fire-running-away-from-it-as-fast-as-I-can” running. So, I often can’t tell the difference between information that I’m “receiving” and information that originates within my own thought stream and psyche. I cannot differentiate between my stuff and other people’s stuff. It all feels like my stuff.

At any rate, it’s obvious to me now that my deep sensitivity is tied to this, whatever you want to call it: “ability”, “curse”, “gift”. I’m not comfortable with any of it. And, this post is freaking me out. But, it’s too late now.

Most of you know that my sensitivity is OFF THE CHARTS. I am incredibly sensitive. Not in a simpering, weak-willed, collapse-in-on-myself, wallflower way. No. I’m incredibly strong-willed, bold, fierce (when required), and tough. When I say that I’m sensitive, I mean that I feel EVERYFUCKINGTHING around me 24/7. I feel things from the world (planet, universe, cosmos, deep space) on a daily basis that would send most people to the loony-bin in less than two weeks. I feel EVERYTHING. My running joke is that if a moth dies in the Amazon, I feel it. It registers, it washes through me, and it has an effect on me. And, it produces feelings inside of me.

I’ll give you an example: I’m so sensitive that I cannot drive past a livestock truck without full-on tearing up. Yes, actually crying. I mean it. It happens to me nearly every time I see one of those trucks. Why? Because I absolutely feel all of the consternation, terror, sadness, and uncertainty of the animals being transported in the truck. I can even feel the emotions of the animals that were carried in the truck prior to the ones that I’m driving past. I can LITERALLY FEEL THEIR EMOTIONS, their full-on awareness of what is happening, how they know where they are going, and the fact that they are going to die. They KNOW IT. I can feel their deep grief, their worry, their physical pain, their sickness in some cases, and their sense of loss at being away from others with whom they grew close. I feel it all.

This is not me being crazy. It’s not me making it up. It’s not me trying to get attention. It’s not the writer in me writing fiction. No, no, no. IT’S REAL. I know it because it is AWFUL. And, it’s OVERWHELMING for them and for me. So, I cry. Oh, and let me tell you: God forbid I see a tail or an ear poking out of one of the little slats in the truck. That’s enough to make me pull over and outright sob. Not kidding. My level of sensitivity is epic. It scares the shit out of other people and it scares the shit out of me. But, it finally occurred to me that this sensitivity is evidence of my psychic ability. I just never connected the dots until recently.

To Be Continued….

In the interim, are you aware of your psychic abilities (whether latent or in the foreground)? Share your story here. I want to know how you cope with it or if you’ve embraced it and actually use your abilities. I’m eager to hear your journey, friends.

 

Put the Needle In

I’m an addict. I freely admit it. I’ve had this problem for a very long time. Um, lifetimes. I’ve struggled and battled with a pervasive, all-encompassing urge, a hot need inside of me that feels larger than the sun.  When I rest my head, it’s there whispering through me, easing me to sleep, asking me to give myself over to it. When I wake up, it’s there softly chanting in my blood, singing from the edges of my consciousness, pulling me into another day of deep feeling and longing.

Every face I peer into tells me about this desire of mine. I see it in other people’s eyes, I can taste it from the air around them. Every time I stop for a few moments, the tingle of this thing washes through my body, stirs my mind. It’s an invocation, an asking from my highest self. It’s a relentless voice at the core of me, asking…asking.

I’ve tried (unsuccessfully) to push past it, brush it aside, ignore its plea, stay out of its way, but it always catches me. It always catches up. I’ve gone into each living day full of hope that I can beat it, that I will not make the same choices, but I know that I won’t beat it. I will choose this over and over. I won’t beat this thing. Even when I rail to the heavens and ask why I came back here to this place, I know that I’ll succumb. Again. I always do.

needle

What is this addiction of mine? Living. Despite the pain it causes. Despite the heartbreak. Despite the loss. Despite the countless, exhausting, relentless, and charmingly beautiful experiences chronicled inside of my soul (Akashic records), I come back to this loathsome, but breathtaking planet over and over and over. I’m addicted to being in a body. I’m addicted to life. I’m addicted to feelings and thoughts and other people. And, like all addictions, there are all kinds of results.

Now, before you roast me for being cavalier about addiction, which I assure you, I’m not being, and have had my struggles with (work addiction, anyone?), hear me out. In my belief system, we humans plan lots and lots of details about each life we enter into before we get here. We sit in a classroom of sorts, with our guides, and choose core parameters around each life and the lessons on which we hope to work for each incarnation. We do not plan down to the minutia, but we place high-level markers in our path for specific lessons that we want to “advance” or “master” in a particular lifetime. We place agreements with other souls, in our plan, so that these people will come into our path and work with us on advancing. Yes, we make agreements with the so-called “good” people and the “bad”. We invite all of it.

We control lots of aspects of living before we live yet again. And, then we come in, hit some of the markers, live the experiences, and do our work of advancing as souls. None of life experience is “bad”. None of the stuff we do is “wrong”, nor for that matter is any of it “right”; it just is. We come in, live the plan (roughly) or deviate from it wildly, in some cases, and gain from it all. Our consciousness expands and grows and ripens with each experience. All of life experience serves us on a soul level. And, we ask for all of it, even the bad stuff.

When we are out of bodies, it all makes perfect sense, this pain, this torture, life’s hardships, and the joys. When we are in bodies and solely focusing from within an incarnation, however, life sucks so bad at times, we hate ourselves and every living thing on the planet. We struggle. We are stunned, injured, happy, depressed, angry, joyous, sad. Life hurts. Bad. Life is also excruciatingly gorgeous, heady, and beautiful. But, it hurts more than it is beautiful, in my experiences.

So, how does all of this relate to addiction? Ha, glad you asked. I, my friends, am addicted to life. I’m addicted to coming in here and going another round. I’m a classic “A-type-overachiever-perfectionist.” And, I know that these traits are core to my soul signature like I know that I have a physical face. I know that I choose really difficult lifetimes so I can advance “faster” but in so doing, I make myself pretty damn miserable. Alot. For, like, lifetimes.

How do I know this? My guides gave me the entire “download” one day as I sat talking about life lessons and reincarnation with my bestie. Behind my eyes, without warning, I saw a vision of me, an amorphous blob of soul sitting at a table, pouring over my records, and saying with a childlike exuberance:

“Oooo…ooo! I know! I’ll come in and be abused. YES! That’s what I’ll do. My mother will be a monster and she’ll help me work on trust, so let’s mark that down. I’ll then have incest experiences with a psychotic/sociopathic stepfather and my narcissistic brother and then, oooo!! I’ll be raped at age 12 and then go anorexic! Yes. THEN! I’ll have an abusive first husband and after that, I’ll get really fat and be workaholic and try to work myself to death at a young age…”

Yep, the entire thing played out for me in my third eye in a hot flash. I knew it was the truth because I heavily edit my “psychic ability” and ordinarily do not let things like this through. But, it busted through my firewall like nobody’s business. I “saw it” all before I could clamp down on it. And, then, I started laughing so hard because in that moment, I got total clarity. That moment led to others in which I was able to then see the decisions that I made and take utter responsibility for my path, my pain, my problems, my choices. It also led me to deeper understanding of my wiring, in this life and many, many others.

So, here’s the truth: I load up my plate with all kinds of pain and hardship before I get here and then when I get here, I bitch about the choices that I made in my planning. I bitch about how my life if going because it hurts. It’s true. I get here and forget that I’m eternal. I get here and I forget that all of “life” is an illusion and the real stuff is what happens outside of life (and in the soul). Life is just a play that is playing out on a stage of my own creation and I can change every aspect of it or none of it. I get here and forget that no matter what choices I make, I am loved beyond measure. We all are, by the way. I get here and complain that “life is too hard” or “my body hurts too much” or “that person is disrespectful” or, “why do I keep coming back here” or a real biggie for me, “I can’t advance fast enough”.

Shit, man. I am so good at bellyaching. And, this complaining that I do keeps me in victim mode. So, the first few steps in changing this pattern is to accept that I’m addicted to living, embrace that I’m getting what I need from my lifetimes, no matter how challenging they are, and writing this blog post to tell on myself. I want to accept that I am a spiritual being having physical experiences and that I will reincarnate, out of choice, not force. I want to stop pushing against my spirit guides, stop threatening them for sending me back here. I want to stop pushing against my psychic ability, my true nature. I want to embrace my lives and extract every ounce of precious learning that I can and I want to be okay with the pain. Truly okay with it.

In 2012, I got really, really sick: lung embolisms, a huge clot in my right leg (due to birth control pills), severe anemia, gallbladder loss, an ablation to my uterus, surgery for a filter to be placed in my vena cava, then an unsuccessful surgery to remove the filter seven weeks later (on and on). It was a crazy few months. I think part of that journey was a planned “way out” for me, a window that I worked in prior to getting here where I could “pop out” if I wanted to. Part of me didn’t want to face the rest of my work, even more work, the hard stuff that I’m now actively doing. But, I chose to stay. I’m still here.

I’m not afraid of dying. I mean, I have moments where it kinda freaks me out, but I have a strong sense that I’ve lived before and I’ll live again. I have this sense because I’m so close to the veil between here and there. I’m so close to the Other Side that “death” doesn’t scare me. What scares me is reincarnating again and going through this crap again and being in physical and emotional pain again.

A psychologist friend of mine, Robert, said to me recently (when I was… yes, you guessed it, bitching) “You’ll stop incarnating when you no longer care that you do”. Ha! Son of a… Ahhhh…the sweet truth, in a tidy little package of delicate little words, from a guru. God, how I love that man. Anyway, yes. he’s right. When I embrace my addiction to living, have gotten everything I need from it, come back here just to serve others, and question not what creator sends me in to do, then and only then will I no longer come back and face ever-grueling, painful, but illuminating and precious life in a body.

So, from the bottom of my bottomless soul, I say to each of you: “Hi, I’m Elizabeth H. ‘Liz’ Casey, aka, BigLizzy, and I am an addict”.

img_9456_re-size

Guest Post: Pieces Lost & Found, Soul Retrieval

My darling friend, Susan, of the amazing Mariner to Mother blog has another tasty guest post for us. As you might remember, Susan has been actively and wonderfully healing the severe trauma she suffered in childhood at the hands of her caretakers. This time, she’s back to tell us about a fascinating and hugely healing practice that she recently underwent. Susan is such an inspiration. Please show her some love, here, guys for sharing more of her journey with us.

Susan

Pieces Lost and Found: Soul Retrieval Ceremony

As we grow up and go through life, things happen to us to cause us pain, discomfort, and trauma. These things can be big, like losing a parent when you still very much need them to be around. Or, they can seem smaller, like being so very proud that you dressed yourself and fancied up your hair all by yourself, when you were four, only to be met with disdain from your mother because you messed up your room in the process, leaving clothes all over the place. And, you ruined her best lipstick, wanting to be more like mom.

As life happens to us, little pieces of our soul can get left behind. The pure joy and love we have for ourselves as a wee one becomes hidden behind shadows of judgment. Have you ever asked a four-year old what she would change about herself? I saw a video recently where women of various ages were asked just that very question. All the adults talked about their bodies; things they didn’t like and wanted to change. But, when the young children were asked what they would change about themselves, many some said there was nothing to change. And, one imaginative child said they would add wings so they could fly. We are taught that we are defective; that there is something wrong with us.

Pretty soon our self-esteem is diminished. Our light becomes dull. And, by the time we reach adulthood, big chunks of who we really are have become blocked off from our consciousness. What healing work does, is to bring these bits and pieces back to us. At least, that’s how it feels. What it really does is uncover or unblock them from the rest of us, allowing us to actually be more of who we truly are.

I’ve been doing just this in a variety of ways for about the past five years, and have used different Energy Healing techniques to this end. Reiki, Matrix Energetics, unnamed energy healing often guided by intuition, and hypnotherapy are my most often used modalities.
Being curious about Native American methods, I recently went through a Soul Retrieval Ceremony. The idea of the ceremony is that a healer, in this case a Shamanic practitioner, creates a sacred space and invokes ancestors of the person wishing to be healed, to come forth and bring back pieces of the soul that have gone missing. During my ceremony, these pieces were brought back accompanied by a variety of birds and animals, who are symbolic.

It was a fascinating experience that began by having the space and all of the ceremony participants’ energy cleared and cleaned by using smoke from burning sage. This is called smudging. I talked with the Shamanic practitioner, answering a bunch of intake questions she had put together. I talked about my family and some of the dysfunctional dynamics that I grew up with, and about some relationships that I wish to change.

Once we got down to the brass tacks of the ceremony itself, I was lying down on the floor with my husband sitting by my head. The Shamanic practitioner lay right beside me, arms touching, and we also had a drummer drumming out a fast drum beat to assist the practitioner get into the meditative state. My job was to stay present. My husband’s job was to help me stay present and to “love the shit out of me, ” as he was directed by the practitioner.

The practitioner at this point had created a sacred space and called in ancestors to help us. Bit by bit, pieces of my soul were brought back. Love of life, love of nature, and love of self were accompanied by a monkey, a bear, and an elephant. There was a shift in one relationship in particular that I’ve been having some difficulty with, and time will tell how that will all work out. And, at one point, lots of light energy flowed through my entire back, affecting me down to the DNA level. The practitioner had a few tools that she used to usher my soul back into me and to cut energetic cords that are no longer beneficial for me. She had a rattle, a crystal shaped like a pyramid, and a polished piece of rose quartz. She had other tools, but these stand out in my mind.

Her work went on for about 30-40 minutes, and then she was done. With the end of the drumbeat, the practitioner told me what she experienced and what soul pieces came back to me. When all was said and done, we shared tea and I showed my appreciation by giving these wonderful, supportive people a few small gifts I’d picked out for each of them, as well as giving a gift of abundance ($) to the practitioner.

One of the things I’ve noticed after I do energy work, especially when big shifts are happening, is that I get very tired and need sleep. Much of the changing happens when I sleep. So, after the ceremony, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open that night until about 9 pm, when I finally crashed and slept.

Since the ceremony, one distinct thing I’m noticing is a shift in my chronic back pain. Because of severely herniating a disc in my low back about six years ago, I often have discomfort, especially when I lie flat on my back. There is increased comfort now.

Another thing that’s going on, although I am not able to recognize it yet for myself, is a gradual healing on the energetic level of things that have manifested at the physical level. I live with acid reflux and an underactive thyroid. Both of these existed energetically outside of my physical body before I felt physical symptoms. Now that I’m working on healing these at the energetic level (while taking medicine to support my body as long as it needs that support), at some point, my physical body will be healed and I won’t need these meds.

So, if I can’t “see” this happening, how do I know it is? I work with a woman who is a medical intuitive, who can see energy and who is able to actually see this happening. Awesome!

With regards to the challenging relationship, I feel more detached from this person who could quite easily set me off. I don’t interact with them very often, so it may take a long while to see just how things have changed there. But one thing I do know for sure is if you have a challenging relationship with a person, when you change you, it will definitely change the relationship. Letting go of old “hooks” that set you off, is a beautiful way to cherish yourself.

What I know for sure about soul retrieval, is that as I do this work and make shifts, I feel more and more like me. I carry less and less crap belonging to other people, because I realize that it isn’t mine to carry. And, I am feeling a deeper sense of peace in my heart. Recently, I defined peace as the ability to stand with people who are swirling dust devils of their own shit, while I stay centered.

********************************************************************************

I don’t know about you guys, but I want to know more about this. So, I looked up a few resources on soul retrieval. Here’s some stuff to paw through:

  • The Foundation for Shamanic Studies web site
  • Sandra Ingerman’s web site on soul retrieval
  • An interesting article on soul retrieval by Sandra Ingerman (she’s everywhere, I tell ya)
  • Sandra’s book on the topic
  • Here’s a link to a really loving healing center in WA that Susan shared with me; they do Akashic Records work with people, which Susan tells me is basically another form of soul retrieval work
  • Here’s the practitioner with whom Susan worked on her soul retrieval ceremony