One Down

On By Alethea KehasIn Energy Healing2 Comments

Today I crossed off #14 on my List to the Universe. It was my most recently added item: “Alethea has a turquoise necklace like the one in her dream.” Yesterday a good friend gave me that necklace, along with a pair of matching earrings. I was deeply touched by her act of friendship.

About a month ago I saw myself during my dream state wearing a beautiful necklace draped with stones of turquoise. It was the only image of the dream (at least remembered), this magnificent necklace around my throat.

Throat, I realized later was the take away message. About a week after my dream I was sitting in class listening to my instructor talk about crystals and stones and how they can relate to and work with the chakra points on our body. When she got to the fifth chakra, the throat, she introduced us to turquoise.  As you might have guessed, a light-bulb clicked on. I had been given another way to work on that throat chakra.

Within a week of hearing about my experience, my friend Rachel made me a necklace much like the one in my dream. The stones, the color of robins’ eggs or a cloudless sky, now surround my neck, nudging me to create; to crack open the imagination and let new life take flight.

Thank you Rachel for your wonderful gift!

Lists for the Universe

On By Alethea KehasIn Memoir, Reflections3 Comments

When I was a teenager I was obsessive about making lists. I would put everything I needed to do for the day or the week on my lists, outside of the ordinary sort-of things like brushing teeth and making my bed. I even had a scrap of paper that I would pull out every couple of days and tack to the bulletin board above my desk that said, “Shave Legs” in curly cue letters. Yep, I had a bit of OCD.

By the time I went to college I had stopped making lists. Instead, I secretly laughed at my over-organized classmates who would pull out their planners with every minute of their day scheduled. I figured, if I couldn’t remember what I needed, than it either wasn’t important, or I was on an early road to senility.

Of course there is something to be said about those list-makers. The one peer in particular who comes to mind, although a bit uptight, was an excellent student. Someone she managed to graduate from Bowdoin with a triple major. I thought I was doing well with a double!

Last week I started a list and fixed it to the side of my fridge. No, it’s not a grocery list, although I discovered the advantages to having a regular log of “foods needed” once I moved out of my parents’ home. The list on the side of my fridge is a list to the universe. Yep, the universe.

If you’ve read or watched The Secret you probably have a good idea already about what is on my list.  Instead of items I plan to get though, I have statements such as “Alethea has a published manuscript of her memoir and a great agent;” “Alethea’s chakras are open and she no longer needs thyroid medication;” “Alethea no longer grinds her teeth at night,” etc. You get the picture?

Actually it’s all about pictures. The idea behind my list (which is currently 13 items long), is to state desires and goals as though they have have already been achieved. I was spurred to make the list, not by The Secret, but my psychic dev. instructor. I had heard about this concept through several sources, and thought okay, time to give it a try. Apparently within days of stating on her list that she had a set of “four almost-new tires,” for her mini van, my instructor’s neighbor had set out four tires on his front lawn with a “Free” sign attached to them. They were in great condition, and they happened to fit her van.

A coincidence, or was it the universe working to make her dream a reality? Think about how easily things come to some people, in particular people who don’t worry excessively and always seem to have a sunny outlook on life. Kids are a great example. Within months of deciding she wanted to have an American Girl doll, my daughter suddenly had five. Yep, five (only one is new). It’s called the Law of Attraction. The universe gives to us what we send out. If we worry obsessively about money, we’ll be over-whelmed with financial challenges.

I have an obsession with being late, just ask anyone who knows me. I worried so much about being late for my first psychic dev. class,  that I was late. Hours before the class I thought obsessively about the weather and if it was going to turn to freezing rain and delay my journey. I worried about my husband making it to our meeting place on time to pick up the kids and whether we would find parking places near each other. I worried about finding the classroom and the right entrance to the building.

The rain had stopped freezing by the time I was on my way to meet my husband. (A small sigh of relief.) I got to Main Street and searched for a place to park near the restaurant where we were to meet up. None opened up. Panicking, I ended up parking in a fire lane, while I called my husband. The call went through, then it cut out. I called again, same. And again. Yep, his phone happened to break on this night. To make a long story shorter, I finally found his car, gave him the kids and cursed my way to class. I went in the wrong entrance and found a kind man who helped me navigate the maze of hallways. I was ten minutes late. Could have been worse, I know, but my obsessive worry had manifested into reality.

So, I’m going to give this list thing another go. Jean Houston, http://www.jeanhouston.org/, is one of the many spiritual leaders of our time who talks about this concept. Not only does she recommended putting that statement out there, but imagining, living and breathing it. If you want a new car for example, in your mind paint it the shade of blue you desire, visualize the model and year. Step inside of it and inhale that new upholstery. Turn the key and shift it into drive. Feel the rhythm of the tires on the pavement. Hear their hum. Taste that glass of wine (or beer, or soda, or water…) you’ll drink in celebration after you’ve signed the paper. Cheers!

Animal Messengers

On By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Dreams, Gaia & Elementals, Memoir2 Comments

Before I began this post, I scanned the blogs of some of my friends. I try to check in every couple of days. Today, a friend of mine wrote of seeing an eagle after she was thinking about this new year and what it means to her. She was born in the year of the dragon.  My friend’s animal encounter gave me those chills that fill you with the wonder of the universe. She was, I am sure through Eagle, given a sign.

On Monday I began a psychic development course taught at a nearby high school. During the class the instructor spoke about animal encounters, encouraging us to pay attention to them and record our observations in a journal. Each one, she told us, holds a message, whether it be a spider, a bird, a deer, etc. Even the number matters. One crow, brings a different message than five. We may encounter animals while driving, those deer staring at our headlights are asking us to take care; the blue jay flying across our path may be giving us the nudge to speak our minds. And, we may also meet animals through meditations and dreams.

I love Eagle. The eagle, in its ability  to connect the air and the earth, calling both places home, sends us messages of strength, healing, creative expression and magic. Not unlike the dragon. My friend is a hard-worker and a writer. She’s a survivor. Eagle has visited her before. I hope she has faith (as I do) in her ability to transcend perceived limitations.

A few years ago I had what I thought was a nightmare. During my dream state I ran naked from the waist down, through a dark path in a forest. Danger, it seemed, lurked within every shadow, but I knew I needed to reach the end of the forest. At the end of the path I found myself inside a building filled with people who all looked the same. No one seemed to notice my presence. I stopped a man and asked him for directions back to the forest. “Are you sure you want to go back there,” he asked me. “Yes,” I told him, “I need to.” I didn’t know why I needed to go back, until I got back on the path I had just left. This time, running, I was not alone. I carried a small child upon my back. The child was a girl. She looked like my daughter. She looked like me. Suddenly the stakes were so much higher. I had much more to lose. Much more to save.  I ran past those shadows determined not to trip, or let loose my grip on the child I carried upon my back. Eventually, I saw through the separation of trees in front of me a distant light, indicating the end of the forest. In the instant before I woke, before I reached my destination, a small white unicorn ran across my path.

I think about my dreams a lot. I have come to realize that dreams are sometimes more real than life. As my psychic instructor told us, we are often more awake in our dreams than we are during the day, going about our busy, technology-foused lives. I took a class on dreams over the summer. During the class the instructor told us that thousands of years ago, before medicine as we know it was starting to evolve, there were dream hospitals. Literally, patients would gather in these rooms to sleep and to heal.

If an animal comes to you in a dream, pay attention. Even, a unicorn. Perhaps, especially a unicorn. As I have discovered, unicorns have incredible gifts to give us, and an immense ability to heal and show us the “light.” My unicorn dream, I came to realize was rich with symbolism, reminding me of the child-self I still needed to heal.

For more on unicorns, see books and resources by Diana Cooper. She has a website: www.dianacooper.com and has written some wonderful books and has created decks of oracle cards. There are numerous resources online to look up animal totems and symbology. Animal Speak by Ted Andrews (I have not yet read this), was recommended by my psychic instructor. I flipped though it, it looks wonderful.

Perhaps this year, more than ever, the animal world will speak to us. Hopefully, we’ll take the time to listen.

Rebirth

On By Alethea KehasIn Dreams, Energy HealingLeave a comment

Some people believe that the year 2012 is the end of the world. When the Mayan calendar ends in December, so will our world. A belief seeped in fear. But, the foundation holds truth. Spiritual leaders throughout our world speak also of this year as an ending. The ending though, is a shedding of old beliefs that drag us down; a shattering of the structure of our individual and societal foundations, so that we may rebuild and evolve at a faster, higher vibration. It includes every being on this planet, as well as the planet itself.

This upheaval is palpable. You have only to open your door, or your newspaper, to see it. You have only to open your heart.

Over the past year, in particular, I have begun to explore the seat of my spirit, my heart chakra. When I first stepped into my heart chakra through meditation I tried to design this sacred place with my mind. I’m a writer. I wanted color, texture, characters. I thought it must be green, like the energy it harbors, verdant with the elements of the natural world. It was fun to play with…but it wasn’t real.

Today, when I stepped into my heart chakra while listening to Jennifer McClean’s 1/12/12 Prayer Circle replay, http://www.mcleanmasterworks.com, I allowed my inner sight to open to my surroundings, resisting the impulse to paint my room. I saw red. I saw flesh. I saw a womb. This, I realized, was the image that comes to me first when I visit. My sacred place of birth and rebirth. My heart as a womb. It was not grand, but it was perfect, for me.

Later today I received an email from a dear friend of mine; a fellow writer/poet; an artist. She wrote to me about waking from a dream where I appeared with her and another friend of ours. It matters only to her that I was there and our other friend, as most often, characters in dreams are facets of ourselves. In my friend’s dream she drove to my home, which appeared to her as an old, red brick building in need of some TLC on the outside. When she walked inside though, wearing her bright red sweater, my friend saw warmth and texture, plants and more colors, including red. She saw me holding an infant I had just bathed.

You may notice, as I am observing with myself, that your thoughts and life events will eerily spread and seek connection, through no conscious effort of your own this year. Two days ago I was sitting at a pub in New London, NH, eating lunch with a dear friend, another fellow writer, the other woman in my friend’s dream. We spoke about the upheavals in our lives, we spoke about seeking roots to ground us back to the earth so that we could make sense of, and work through our chaos, and we spoke of the pains of our past. Red. Root chakra issues that had blocked our other energy centers.

My lunch companion was reopening her heart chakra, and in doing so, giving balance to the more masculine energies that had ruled her adult life. This was her fortress of protection, wrapped around her heart, from feeling unloved and unwanted as a child. For weeks she had been crying, releasing the dam and allowing the female side to find space. She was learning out how to love without fear. I couldn’t help but think of the 10 of Cups card I had drawn for her  a year ago in December, as well as the World card. Through her pain, I could see her destination of becoming whole. I was witnessing a part of her rebirth.

A year ago I had also done a tarot spread for my friend who shared her dream from last night. Her destination card had been Judgement. Literally, in the Rider/Waite tarot deck,  the card of awakening to new life. Rebirth. The baby, recently bathed in her dream. Self-babtism. Only she knows how she will evolve.

Later, during my meditation with the prayer circle, after I explored my heart chakra, I took a journey through my own body. I looked for the blocks, those shadows that shun the light. The shadows are always on my right, including my brain.  I played with the possibility of light and watched what it would bring for me. A landscape opened before me, textured by gentle hills. I stood tall upon one, ready to climb the next. I was so tall, I almost doubted the vision. I almost laughed. How could I be this giant who had conquered fear? Still I let it play out, and watched as I crested the next hill and took flight. My body found its form, naked, it became light. From my back I sprouted wings.

Voice

On By Alethea KehasIn Dreams, MemoirLeave a comment

When I was a young child, after my mother and stepfather moved us from Oregon to NH, we had an outhouse. In back of the outhouse there was a stream, and beside the stream, tucked in amid the ferns, were white sheetrock buckets holding leafy green plants. The plants were a secret. One of many. They looked like tomatoes, but they were not.

At ten past five this morning the phone rang and I was pulled out of a deep sleep to listen to an automated message informing me that my children’s school had been canceled for the day.  After I cursed the superintendent, my mind began the replay of my dreams. In the first scene, I saw myself standing in a room with my mother and stepfather. My stepfather loomed in front of me, my mother was in the shadows to my right. It was Christmas and my stepfather held before me the partial skeleton of a quilt. Triangular patches of scrap fabric had been sew together (presumably by my mother), but the shape of the quilt was just taking form. It was his gift to me. “Take it,” he told me, “I want you to finish it.” As he spoke my stepfather pointed to bins of calicos in the colors of Christmas behind him, gesturing for me to choose the fabrics of my choice to finish the project. He was insistent, this was something he thought I should do.

I refused. I didn’t want the beginnings of a quilt that he thought I should make on my own. (My mother once helped me make a quilt for my bed, he had much to say about it while the project was occurring.)

Instead, I stood before my stepfather and started to talk. The first words that came from my mouth were muffled and strained, as though I were trying to talk through a clot or a windstorm. There was no strength to my words. But, as I spoke, my voice became strong and clear. “I don’t want the quilt,” I told my stepfather, “Instead, I have something I want you to hear.”

I told my stepfather that for Christmas I had given my birthfather back his name (I did, in fact, give this “gift” to my birthfather this past Christmas). The name my stepfather had taken from him. “Dad.” As I spoke, my heart was racing my words and winning in its mad sprint. I tried to look past the mix of anger and hurt in my stepfather’s face, not willing to allow my voice to stop inside my throat. “I can call two people Dad,” I told him, “There are no rules that say you can’t do that.” I argued my defense to a mute audience, listing the reasons why I should not be denied the right to have and love two fathers. I didn’t stop until I had emptied my body of the words I had been holding inside.

The scene changed and I was standing in another building, a public building with many people, talking to a couple with a child in a stroller. My mother and stepfather were behind me and we asked about the child, a girl with long light brown hair hunched within her too small seat. There was an aura of gloom around the child, a sadness so deep the air around her was heavy, gray.

“How is she,” we wanted to know. The girl lifted her head slightly as her parents spoke of how she was recovering from the depression that had filled her after she had been to Oregon for a visit. They told us that now that she was back she was beginning to improve. As her parents spoke, my heart reached for the girl. This seven year old child with long brown hair, whose too large body sunk into her stroller, needed me. I knew the source of her sorrow. In my mind I saw her standing on the sand beside the rocky gray waters of the Pacific. I felt her open her mouth to a scream whose sound was immediately swallowed by the greedy mouth of the wind. I felt her body absorb the violence of the swirling air as though it were my own. I knew I could help her.  I would teach her how to recover her muted voice.

Primary Day 2012

On By Alethea KehasIn PoemsLeave a comment

Standing at my booth I mull
over gravity. That heavy hand
pulling flesh away from hips
to bring matter back to earth.

And watch Time, governor
of minutes. Ruler of age, look
at the girl in the skinny jeans
voting in her first election.

She smiles from porcelain,
uncracked, while mother’s camera
captures the clutch of the ballot
marked like a mirror.

It’s a proud day. Daughter,
like mother, yet one cannot negate
the object distance. In back of the flash,
the future waits.

Letting Go

On By Alethea KehasIn DreamsLeave a comment

When I was in the fifth grade I had a dream that I was falling. I awoke in the early hours of the morning to the sound of my voice calling for my parents. My jaw was twisted out of shape from the impact of diving head-first into the pine floor of my bedroom from the four-foot height of my bunk-bed. Blood was already filling my mouth from the hole my tooth had left under my bottom lip. My fear of falling off my home-made bunk bed without a railing had been realized.

Last night I had a two dreams that I can remember. In the first I was walking through a foreign city in asia with my daughter. The streets were crowded with buildings and street vendors. We found ourselves passing a tall building with many stories, and stopped in awe to observe the people who lived there. Outside the large windows that faced our side of the street, instead of balconies, there were beds. As my daughter and I watched, the inhabitants of the apartments within the building were in various states of getting in and out of their beds, which were all double-sized, canopied and attached to their windows, but without any sort of railings to prevent their occupants from careening out of their sides onto the street below. I was captivated by the scene. How did they not fall? Why did they not fear?

In my second dream, I found myself inside my maternal grandmother’s apartment. I had just gone shopping for her and was unloading bags of groceries in the kitchen when my ten-year deceased grandfather appeared at her kitchen table. Instead of taking on the age he was when he died, he appeared to be in his twenties and looked like a cross between his own son and my nephew. We had a long conversation while I tried to assemble a salad.  I asked my grandfather why he was still hanging around my grandmother’s house after ten years. He seemed unaware that he could let go, and he wanted to be there for his wife who didn’t want to let him go.

The scene within the dream switched to my grandmother weeping. Still, after ten years, my grandmother was incapacitated by her grief for her deceased husband, crying on the cushions of her sofa. She was clearly holding on. I found her vulnerability frustrating. I wanted to shake her back to life. Instead, I told her it was time for her to dance. And, literally, as I watched my grandfather leave the table, my grandmother, in the other room, started dancing back into herself. Her face filled with joy, her body moved to a music all her own.

I have learned through my study of dreams that the characters we dream about our manifestations of ourselves. Yesterday, I had listened to a World Puja Network broadcast by Pippa Merivale. For more about Pippa, go to http://www.metatronic-life.com/. Pippa channels the angel Metatron, and during this broadcast the focus was on the New Year and cellular cleansing. Pippa spoke of the memories and experiences the cells in our bodies hold onto, sometimes focusing into pain within specific points in our bodies. I know where mine is held, most likely, you do as well. As Pippa said, there is no need to ignore these “shadows,” and, in fact, we should not deny their presence. What we can do though is free the trapped pains, cleanse our cells and give them a chance to renew.

So, I ask you, as I did myself, what are you holding onto? What is trapped within you that seeks the light of recognition? In this New Year, why not offer your body the chance to let go, renew, and dance into all the possibilities of your spirit?

If I Put the Pen Down

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

…will my heart condense to a room without a door? It’s the question I asked my higher- self before the New Year.

What happens to the writer when she does not give voice to the words within her? Her soul’s song becomes trapped inside a room of increasing darkness. The door gets harder to find with each word that’s denied a voice.

Words bring in the light. They open up our third chakras (and, of course, our fifth):

With pen you pull the sun in/dissolve shadows into life 

In my effort to keep the sun shining within my solar plexus, I have decided to start this blog. I opened the door three years ago and I’m determined to not let it close.

We all come into the world with our own voice of truth, whether that voice finds expression through a poem, a painting or a pie. The point is to let it sing in whatever form it seeks.