Category: Reflections

The root of the matter

On By Alethea KehasIn Dreams, Energy Healing, Gaia & Elementals, Memoir, Reflections8 Comments

A Healing Path
A Healing Path
I’ve spent the better part of the day gardening. The mulch was delivered on Saturday, and after a busy weekend of sporting events and other kid-center activities, I thought I’d use my quiet Monday to spread it around. The garden path and the area surrounding it shown in this photo used to be grass until I pulled it out of the earth at the end of last summer.

I garden because I love plants and Nature. I love being outside with my hands mingling with the earth. I garden to heal. Today, while I was mulching my new garden area, I tugged the unwanted weeds out of my path. While working on the grass that likes to return each year with my Vinca, I was reminded of the tenacity of energy–that unless we dig out the roots, it will return anew.

The weeds of unwanted energy
The weeds of unwanted energy

Any gardener will be familiar with this concept. We can mow down new growth, we can nip its buds and we can give it a good trampling, but unless we dig deep and pull out the roots, the growth will most likely return in time. I believe all healing must lead to the root, and that this is why dis-ease in its myriad forms returns or consumes. Unless we get to the origins of the growth and heal or remove it, the energy will persist.

Last night I dreamed I was back in college, moving into a basement room in a dormitory I once lived in called “The Tower.” The tower was much taller and larger than it was in reality, and my little basement dream room was crumbling around the foundation and windows. There were large gaps where the cold air was seeping through, and no adequate light for which to share the space with houseplants.

After reading my previous posts, you will know that I have been healing, layer by layer, the energy of my past. Through this process, I have had to return to my roots, which are meant to provide stability–a strong foundation for the structure of the self, and the family. I have been digging up my roots, and the old foundation that once sustained life as I knew it, is crumbling. It was, after all, not a healthy life. I was ridden with dis-ease and secrets and suffocated by silence.

The Tower from Universal Waite
The Tower from Universal Waite

My tower is crumbling at the base. As I shed the fiery crown of patriarchy that ruled my early life, I see the gaps left behind in my foundation of self. The stability of the old structure has been compromised, as it makes way for the new, true self to emerge. The holes need to be filled with the energy of the true self. The green growth needs to be nurtured and coaxed out of the shadows.

I have, in essence, chosen the path of the orphan, but one can say that we all travel a similar path to healing the true, whole self. We must shed the roots that tangle and regrow unwanted energy in order to grow the complete being of our individual truth. It is the path of life that we are all on, it’s only the nature of the roots that differ.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder

On By Alethea KehasIn Energy Healing, Memoir, Reflections2 Comments

My blogging friend Ali wrote this post, which resonated with me and what I experienced growing up. What a damaging disorder for all parties involved. I feel deeply for anyone struggling to live in this type of  relationship. This was my childhood in so many ways. I also want to add how harmful it can be when there is an enabler of the narcissist. For me it was, and still is, my mother enabling my stepfather, to the severe determent of all her other relationships. It is an extreme form of abuse, where everyone else but the party causing the pain is blamed. I’ve been there so many times, and the irony of my mother placing this label on me because I had the courage to heal and write about my experiences has been the final straw. I can no longer allow myself to suffer from misdirected blame and abuses, nor allow my children to. Please read Ali’s post, it’s so incredibly thorough and helpful.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

The bleeding of a heart

On By Alethea KehasIn Dreams, Memoir, Reflections6 Comments

The heron returned today, passing overhead with silent wings as I walked home the forest. It’s been a tough day for me. Even though it’s a day of celebration –May Day and my husband’s birthday — my heart is heavy with loss. I wonder, how many times you can experience the loss of someone still living? My dear friend, whom I mentioned in yesterday’s post, wrote this of loss,”Sometimes I think that people actually die several times for us: figuratively, and then they are reborn to us because of something we think they need to be, but then they have their own lives, and they die again.”

A trunk divided into 4 parts
A trunk divided into 4 parts, 1 now dead

In my journey to inner truth I have experienced the figurative death of people I love, only to allow them to be born again into my life. Perhaps I am a slow learner, but the truth is, I have a hard time letting go. There is a desperate desire that lives inside of me for my children to have the childhood I did not. Easter and recent events have been harsh reminders that I am allowing my children to be indirect victims of abuse.

The heart wears a heavy cloak when loss is an act of self-preservation. I have friends who have suffered the early loss of parents, and although I am deeply sorry for them, there is the part of me that envies the love that they were able to share — a love that lingers full even after death. I am 40 yrs. old and still searching for that parental love.

Last night, my dreams found me by the sea inside a house atop a hill. I wanted to buy this second home, but when I went up the stairs I was confronted with the energy of malevolent spirits. I was lifted off my feet from the fierce repulsion of the haunting inhabitants. Yet, after I managed to make it safely down the stairs again, holding onto the banister, I went up one more time.  A sucker, it would appear, for punishment.

It was clear I was not going to exorcise the demons in that house, so I finally left, relinquishing my hope for a beautiful home by the sea. Today, I gave up on my desire for the unconditional love I never had in childhood. I knew the writing of, and eventual publication of my truths, would not be received without trepidation, but I had hoped for redemption. I had hoped for acknowledgment and regret. I had hoped for understanding. I had hoped for love.

alethea8

Today I was labeled as a narcissist by my mother for writing a memoir. Few people, I believe, write their stories in an act of self-idolation. I wrote my memoir to heal my voice and my body. I had, in essence, no choice. I was suffocating in my silence, I was trapped in a legacy of fear. It was never my intention to vilify or harm others, or to undermine their truths when I finally let my words speak my own long-buried truths. The knowledge that I am not alone, that my struggle for voice, truth and love is universal, drives my desire to share my individual story in the hope that it will spark the truth hidden inside others.

I knew this act, which took much courage and resolve, would lead to rejection. I would, inevitably, be rejected by countless agents and publishers who would consider the manuscript not marketable enough, and I would, likely, be rejected once more by some of the individuals who appear as characters in my life story. I have paid a high price for my speaking my truth, yet I have made a personal vow not to be silenced, again.

I can empathize with the individual who hurts another because they hurt inside. I have angered and hurt others as a result of the wounds I suffered inside. I therefore understand that the person who harms does so because s/he is suffering, unable to love the self, and thus unable to fully love another unconditionally, but I do not understand the soul’s refusal to self-assess, to deny continually the opportunity to heal. To maim, in particular, one’s child, over and over again by one’s actions (or lack-there-of), bleeds the heart of love.

IMG_1479

A Pine’s Lesson

On By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Dreams, Gaia & Elementals, Reflections2 Comments
Spring Green on Pine
Spring Green on Pine

Today I am feeling the burden of a release waiting. The tension is in my neck and left shoulder, where the weight of an energy that I need not bear is ready to be freed. It is an old, stubborn weight; a habit carried over from childhood. These cords that bind us can be hard to cut. They are stubborn, they chafe and rub at our comfort, reminding us that their energy is still there.

I have learned that a verbal cutting of the ties that hold us is quite different than an energetic release. We can say we’ve had enough, we can even shut the door on welcoming more, but until we let go of the history, the accumulated burden we bear inside our cells, we have not truly let go.

The release can be layered, in fact it often is, as our bodies are not designed to deal well with a rapid, sudden change. I peel away my layers as though I am molting outgrown skin. I am a snake, uncoiling into spring, leaving behind the lacy ghost of my former self, but I am also a bear, shedding an old coat of energy in patches that leave me temporarily unbalanced. What remains, holds on the tightest.

I passed the pine tree before I turned to go home this morning. The creak and whine of the burden it bore called to me as the dogs stopped to sniff and pee. There were two pines, to be precise, one dead, one living. The living pine bore the weight of the dead, which had fallen into its arms. With each breath of wind, a moan was released at the place of union between the two trees, as the weight they shared shifted but never fully let go.

As I studied the two trees, joined by a death, I saw how the burden from the dead pine was creating a wound in the live pine. At the crease of its limb, the bark had rubbed raw, the orange skin below exposed. I imagined it felt like my left shoulder. There was a parallel between us, the pine was my mirror.

On Easter I had shut a door verbally, but it was something I had tried to do before. I’m still waiting to see if I will allow the door to be opened again, in some form, while my shoulder and neck remind me that my body and soul is waiting for a true death and resurrection. And, I cannot deny my dreams. Last night I dreamed I was trying to find what I had intended to let go. Before I got there, I had been delayed by the purchase of an over-large ice ream that was supposed to be the color of a rainbow. The total of the dripping expanse of sweetness was $12. I scoffed, I angered. It was all too much.

Joanne Scribes writes on her site, Angel Numbers, that the number 12 represents the combined energies of 1 and 2. One, is the number of beginnings, 2, of unions. Combined into 12, the energy of the number calls for the release of old habits and burdens so that the soul can begin anew, fresh, unencumbered. Resurrected in truth. When this occurs we are free to live out our soul’s purpose without the trappings of old attachments.

The male cardinal
The male cardinal

A pair of cardinals appeared later, nestled together in the azalea beside my driveway, at the conclusion of my morning walk. Here again was the number 12, in different form. Ted Andrews writes in his book Animal Speak that the cardinal’s cycle of power is year-round, reflecting the rhythm of the number 12 (symbolic of 12 months, hours, days, etc.). These birds, Andrew writes, “remind us that regardless of the time of day or year, we always have the opportunity to renew our own vitality and recognize the importance of our own life roles.” (pg 124).

When we let go of the dead weight, the burdens of the past we need not carry, we set free the energy of our true self. We allow ourselves to live in a free, unencumbered form, to shine bold and bright in the light of our truth. This is what we all strive for, whether we know it or not. This is the yearning of each soul, and it is a gift to self when we let go of the ties that bind.

Why we stop

On By Alethea KehasIn Reflections4 Comments

stop sign

I’m having one of those quiet days that come to me when my children and husband are back in school and work after a vacation. The house is quiet, aside from the occasional sigh and bark from the dogs, the whirr of the pellet stove, and the click of the keys on my computer. There is the scratch at the porch door that gets me up and moving to let in the smaller of my two dogs, and the ensuing smile that reminds me that love is about patience and the willingness to shift.

Today I am pondering the pause, the quiet space in our perception of time when stillness takes over the kinetic moments of life. Transitioning from one extreme to another can be uncomfortable, it’s a bit of a shock to the system of self. We can find ourselves a little lost in the place of quiet space where we wait for the next event to occur.

I love solitude, sometimes I crave it to the point of irritation. I need it, we all do, and yet I also crave the yell of bliss that ignites the spirit, forgetting that I can have both. I dwell on the wait, wondering when the next body of words will form to create a poem or a chapter, when someone will call for a healing session, or Spirit will bring me another gift of journey. I get caught up in the wait, forgetting that it is the very gift I need most.

Canada goose on pond

We feel the pulse of our divine light when we succumb to the deep breaths of silence. Here we remember who we are and where we come from. We recharge and realign so that we will be ready to move again.

The Kiss of the Butterfly

On By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Gaia & Elementals, Reflections9 Comments
A Butterfly from Another Day
A Butterfly from Another Day

Each year, on the first unseasonably warm day, I await the woodland butterfly. Today is a a particularly auspicious day. Not only is it the first day this spring that feels almost like summer, it’s 4-14-14 and the eve of the first lunar eclipse of the year, the Blood Moon. The air is charged with energy. The fog that held the morning in close embrace has lifted and the wind has taken reign of the air, howling it through the leafless trees and tugging at the clouds that keep threatening to block the sun. Oh, I do hope it wins its battle so we may view the Blood Moon tonight!

I am decidedly ungrounded today. There’s little to be done about it really. On days like this, I give into the forces. I love the feeling of magic, so I can’t say I was surprised, but rather delighted, when I saw my first butterfly of the year. The same species, the color of turned earth, that visits me each year on the first gloriously warm day.

It started as a passing thought, “I wonder if I’ll see a butterfly today,” as I made my way with the dogs into the forest. Then there was the man stumbling through the trees looking for a neighbor’s stolen bird feeder, bringing me back to the present. I knew the culprit before I asked. Bear. I told him I’d keep my eyes open for it, and ventured along the path with eyes alert.

The dogs and I didn’t walk far, just past the open field, slightly down the trail marked “Journey,” stopping at the vernal pond alive with the chorus of mating frogs. Daisy, my wise dog/teacher, stopped as she always does when she wants me to pay attention to Nature. Really, she didn’t need to today, as I was quite taken by the song of rebirth filling the air.

We never found the missing bird feeder, but about 50 feet before the entrance/exit to the forest, we met the butterfly. “There you are!” I exclaimed with delight, as she lifted wings to the air and danced a pirouette around my head. I became her Earth-bound companion, my heart souring with her, following her dazzling choreography in a the energy of pure bliss. This, to me, is what magic is all about.

The danced lasted mere minutes, perhaps five. I must confess, there were a few futile attempts to photograph my muse, but that clearly was not a purpose of this visit. Instead, I took with me the energy of her kisses. Three times, before she flew into another realm, she alighted on the top of my head, and I felt, ever so briefly, the flutter of her energy. I left the forest with eyes moist and heart lifted in gratitude.

Until we meet again.

The Other Side of the Rainbow

On By Alethea KehasIn Memoir, Reflections, Uncategorized8 Comments

Rainbow

I was a child of Doubt. I don’t remember playing with imaginary friends or fairies. I don’t remember believing in angels or a Universal Life Force/God. But, I wanted to, secretly. Everything I was told was not “real,” I imagined to exist. Inside the silence of my mind I created tiny winged beings flying amid the flowers. In the dark quiet of my bedroom I felt the heavy breath of spirits lurking beside me while I tried to sleep. Sometimes, secretly, I talked to a God I was told did not exist.

I think some of us need to forget in order to remember. I forgot who I was and where I came from at an early age, before memory imprints itself into the folds of the brain. Many of us forget our true, spiritual selves by the age of 7. As we learn to live in the world of our parents’ and society’s creation, we shed the aspects of self that do not conform to our perceived surroundings. The spirit guides, angels and fey that we used to play and commune with disappear into the invisible realm as our eyes close to the brilliance of frequencies too high to sustain belief.

There are moments, filled with a desperate hope, when I wish I could bring it all back, not so much for me, as I am remembering now what I have forgotten, but for my children and all children of our world who are forgetting. I wonder, as I looked at my practical preteen who loves fashion and sports, what happened to my little girl who used to close her eyes in pure bliss while she played and danced with “Raina.” When did my little boy stop going to sleep in room filled with colors only he could see? I didn’t intentionally will my children to lose their connection to the world of Spirit, but somehow, with the help of the artificial world we live in, I witnessed my children let go of the rainbow of magic.

How do I bring back their access to the realm of Spirit? Our children are brought up to believe in magic that is not real, only to discover that Santa Claus does not slide down the chimney on Christmas Eve, the Easter Bunny does not bring baskets of chocolates and toys, and the Tooth Fairy is not the one who saves their lost teeth. We do.

I struggle to make sense of a world of hypocrisy, while trying to retrieve for my children the real magic of life. We live in a world that has learned to fear the unseen forces that move through and around us. We do not trust what we can’t see, so we pretend it does not exist. Yet most of us believe in a universal life force from whence we all came into being. Why, then, is it so difficult for us to believe in a universal energy of Love? Why is it so difficult to believe that we are surrounded by sentient beings who share the same life force energy, as well as our innate desire for balance and love?

I have photographed my children dancing with fairies in the summer rain. I have channeled reiki energy into their restless bodies when they have struggled with sleep. Yet, they doubt what they don’t see. They doubt what is not commonly talked about on the TV, in classrooms, or among friends. I see my children’s struggle, I share it too. I am the “weird” mother they are both in awe of, and somewhat embarrassed by. In some ways it’s much easier for them to call me a writer, than it is to call me a healer who talks with and channels Spirt in myriad forms. I get it, though. I was that child too.

 

The Body of Night

On By Alethea KehasIn Dreams, Energy Healing, Memoir, Reflections, Uncategorized6 Comments

IMG_2531I enter the dark body of night to heal. To recover the parts of me that have been lost to fear over lifetimes.

I’ve always enjoyed putting together puzzles. The more intricate and mysterious the art of creation, the more I am drawn into the process of discovery. I have found no better place to build the puzzle of self than at night, where I can slip into the inky abyss of darkness where everything exists. It can take some cunning and a good dose of courage to find what I am looking for. Night is the place where veils dissolve, and the landscape of the soul is laid bare. It is the place where mysteries blinded by the sun become tangible when we are brave enough to extend our grasp into the black abyss.

Each dream that unfolds through Night becomes a path with a promise of a gift, or many if we can find them hidden amid the shadows. The dreams that cause the greatest tremor of emotion within our “sleeping” form, often hold the most sought-after treasures. I have learned to love nightmares, for they lay bare those pieces that lurk in the crevices of self, which can only be found after putting the easy and obvious together. They are the stuff of the inside that likes to hide, deceptively camouflaged within an unassuming palette. Yes, it is these gems I know seek, for each piece recovered brings me closer to the whole self that is Love.

Love. That is, after all, what it is all about. This quest we are all on. It is said that to love another, we must first love ourselves. I believe that the more fully we love ourselves, the more fully we love others. I believe we can only love in others, what we love in ourselves, and when we are able to accept and unite those aspects of self that are mirrored uncomfortably in others, we finally achieve the whole self that is Love. When we do this, we are loving not the fear in the form of anger, injustice or abuse, but the aspect of universal self beneath it that we all share. The piece of self yearning to be whole that was once love/loved is still, in essence, love.

Now when I discover a piece of self that has become disconnected over (life)time(s), and has forgotten love in favor of the energy of fear, I rejoice. My dreams are a tool, they work with me, taking me down the paths of self-recovery. They lead me to the source, where the hand of fear tries to hide the light. The clues to how I got there are always found in the scenes. Past lifetimes are revealed with vivid faces, costumes and languages I have not encountered in this lifetime, interwoven with a present-day landscape. It is not my job to judge, but to accept. It is not my task to hold on, but to effortlessly let go. I am brought here to seek, to find, and unite into love. I have learned that our fears do make us stronger, when we accept them with understanding, release the energy that traps and reunite the lost love.

 

 

 

Orange

On By Alethea KehasIn Energy Healing, Memoir, Reflections, UncategorizedLeave a comment

orange

When you look at the color orange, what do you see? Years ago, before I started working with the chakra centers in the body, I wrote a poem about an orange and compared it to love. Here is the poem, in revised format, with the essence still intact:

Orange

Love should be
like a ripe orange
before it is peeled. Thick,
heavy, sweet

When you turn
its bumpy surface
in your palm, there is
no beginning
no end

Love is the color of the sacred “womb” that resides inside all of us. It is the place where we grow our creative and sensual selves into being with the fire of our soul. The color of passion and love manifested in the form of our unique gifts, it is always present, yet sometimes hides.

I have been thinking and writing a lot about orange these days, as I rebirth dormant gifts held inside the second, or sacral chakra that vibrates in this hue. Rarely do I wear this bold color that tends to overwhelm my complexion, but there I was in a lovely boutique last Friday, buying a dress adorned with orange flowers.

orange flowers on dressOn Saturday I peeled sweet potatoes, carrots and gingers and cooked them into an orange soup. We are drawn to the colors that want to bloom inside of us. There is a reason why our bodies and senses crave certain palettes. I cook with orange to kindle the fire that hides in my belly. Today, my eye is drawn to the flames that warms my house as I nibble the flesh of mango and write, my orange dog staring me down, waiting for her walk.

Rosy, the orange dog

Not broken

On By Alethea KehasIn Dreams, Energy Healing, Memoir, ReflectionsLeave a comment

Seven days ago I broke my middle finger after a week of lessons and night healing. For more on this please read my post The Wounded Healer, which I have just revisited to add some clarification and edits (it was not a very polished post, please forgive me).  

The morning after I broke my finger, I was about to head downstairs to leave for my doctor’s appointment where I would learn what type of treatment I would be receiving for my break. The fracture was in the inside of my middle knuckle, and there was some speculation about a tendon being misplaced and the possibility of surgery. Now, as many of you know by now, I don’t tend to view occurrences as accidents. As I looked down at my finger, swollen and bruised, I heard the words inside my head, It’s not really broken.

I won’t go through the details of my brief visit with the orthopedist, but I will tell you how pleased I was to discover that my appointment had been made with a physician that took a nontraditional approach to breaks. Yes, my finger was fractured, but, as he told me, there was no reason I couldn’t heal it myself. Now, to be fair, I had not yet told him what I did for a living. I told only after he offered physical therapy referrals, etc. as options to help me recover full mobility after the swelling and pain went down.

To be honest, aside from the pain that occurred immediately after I fell, my finger didn’t hurt unless I over-did my attempts to bend or flex it. I walked out of the office in the elated air of slight disbelief, but I knew I could heal without help. I had never before broken a bone, but I was ready for the challenge.

One week later, I can form a fist, albeit not a tight one, and flex my finger fully. What did I do to heal? I trusted my body. Except through client healing, I never channeled healing energy through my hands. This healing, I knew, needed to come from within. It wasn’t hard, I simply allowed the process to occur.

All healing ultimately comes from within, from allowing and trusting that we hold inside of us the infinite capacity to be whole. That, in fact, our body and soul desire this more than anything else. This is why I share my story with you. When we think perhaps that we are broken, when we even have a fragmented bone to prove it to ourselves, we always have the choice to heal.

Healing what we think is broken can be a beautiful journey to self. I needed this break, along with the lessons of last week, in order to progress on my journey to Truth. That soft fire within me needed to be ignited, and the old flames of fears burned away.