The Dark Side of Ayahuasca

Ayahuasca Vision by Paulo Jales-2

My personal tale of using Ayahuasca for the first time to enhance my spiritual journey, but instead experienced the worst night of my life.

After a day at the beach, my husband drives me to a nearby residence where I will drink a concoction made from Ayahuasca, a vine from the Amazon jungle, combined with another plant containing DMT. Ayahuasca tea, also called yagé, is a psychedelic brew used by shamans and indigenous peoples in the Amazonian jungle to reach an altered state of consciousness, allowing them interact with the spirit realm. Many people claim that Ayahuasca has amazing healing powers; some tout that the experience is equal to 10 years of therapy in a single night. My personal goal is to heighten my spiritual connection to the divine.

Ayahuasca brewing

Ayahuasca brewing

We pull into the driveway and get out of the car. I carry the recommended “gear” of wet wipes, paper towels, sleeping bag, bottled water and a pail for vomiting. My friend and his girlfriend warmly greet us. After an hour of small talk, my husband leaves—he did not plan on participating, and the hosts worry that he might get overly concerned when I start throwing up, interrupting the experience.

The hosts spend an hour explaining what I should expect from Ayahuasca. They mention that geometrical codes might appear, and at some point I will need to surrender my ego to break through to the “other side” to meet the divine. The hosts tell me they’re giving me their greatest gift, and assure me that Ayahuasca has been life-changing for them.

We go outside to sit on the deck overlooking the inlet. Two small jars are placed on the balcony railing. I open the first jar and drink the reddish-brown liquid in one gulp. I had read that the concoction would be bitter, but it tastes more like a strong herbal tea. After 20 minutes, I drink from the other jar. It too goes down easily.

After a little while, my body heats up and I notice that my vision is flickering. I suggest that we go inside so I can lie down.

I lay on the couch, propped up by cushions. The hostess lays a crochet afghan over me. A transparent geometrical code appears across the room like a hologram. A booming sound begins. Part of the geometrical code bounces before shooting into my energetic body. I accept the code since I had read that the symbols were supposed to heal a person’s DNA. Everything seems to be going well.

The geometrical codes keep appearing, accompanied by the strange bass-like tones. Jungle sounds fill the room. I feel that Ayahuasca is sharing her heritage with me.

Interspersed between the geometrical codes, I hear snippets of voices issuing instructions, “Cue. Ready? Now!” and I wonder what is going on. It sounds like a TV production team is in the background orchestrating the event. It reminds me of the movie ‘The Truman Show’ starring Jim Carrey—the one where he was living in a TV show, but didn’t know it.

I catch a glimpse of the ‘producers’ who issued the instructions. They appear as four Asian people, stylishly dressed, wearing headsets while standing in front of audio/video equipment. I silently tell them, “I can see you! Hallucinations don’t work if I know they’re not real.”

The abstract painting on the wall changes into a portrait of a Geisha girl wearing a multi-colored robe.

I am sucked back into Ayahuasca’s realm, and a traditional Mayan mask appears, but I see a dark figure holding it, moving it around. The event seems contrived.

The geometrical codes kept coming nonstop, infusing into my body. I wonder if the force behind these codes is benevolent or malevolent. I ask for inspiring messages, but get none. I ask the force to send me love because while it might be able to shape-shift into deceptive images and sounds, it can’t fake love. I don’t feel any love, only darkness and a huge, empty void.

I am scared that the plant has exposed me to its dark side—the archetype power of black magic that has accumulated over thousands of years, or perhaps worse, the ultimate struggle between good and evil.

At this point, I ask it to stop, but the geometrical codes and sounds keep coming, over and over again, and the words, “Cue. Ready? Now!” ring out.

Another geometrical code appears.

“Cue!”

Another geometrical code appears.

“Ready.”

I shout in my mind, “NO! I invoke the Universal Law of Oneness and ask you to stop!” But the codes and sounds continue barraging me. Since I know the Divine Source never forces itself on anyone, I become convinced that dark forces are attacking me. I ask the Great Spirit for help. I call on my spirit guides and enlightened teacher, Jesus, for help.

It feels like I am dying. I have a fever and shiver uncontrollably. The hostess puts another blanket on me.

I listen to my heartbeat, which slows down, then eventually stops. I gasp for breath and my heart resumes beating.

The gentle Voice, the one I have heard throughout the years, says, “Drink your water.”

I take a sip, but it is extremely difficult to drink more than that.

The geometrical codes begin again. I invoke the Universal Law of Oneness, demanding that it stop. Finally, it does.

I ask Aya to remove all the codes already infused into me. The codes are forcefully extracted all at once. It’s painful and overwhelming. I begin to projectile vomit while silently screaming, “It’s all a lie!” over and over.

One of the hosts holds the bucket. The vomit seems to come from deep within my bowels. The same concoction that went down so smoothly is extremely bitter coming up. For the first time since this began, I have a glimpse of normal reality, but it flickers away quickly and I am again back in Aya’s grip.

Although the geometrical codes have stopped, Aya continues shooting sights and sounds at me—all with a dark, jungle backdrop. I offer everything that is appearing to the Great Spirit for healing. It has become a battle for the control of my mind. It takes extreme concentration on my part to stay conscious, and I am convinced that I must stay awake to win this battle, but it’s difficult because I am exhausted and sleep beckons me like a sultry seducer.

The gentle Voice reminds me to drink water. It takes considerable concentration and fortitude to down another bottle, which is followed by another round of projectile vomiting.

In my haze, I realize that my expectation of Ayahuasca being a fast-track to enlightenment was a mistake. I should not have expected a plant spirit to do the work for me. I hear the Voice say, “Everyone is already enlightened. You did not need to do anything.” I feel foolish.

Suddenly, I think of my husband. I have a vision of him, and see his spirit as my guardian angel. I urgently want him here with me. I mumble to one of the hosts, asking her to call my husband.

I go in and out of reality. It takes incredible focus and determination to resist merging with the dark forces. At this point, I am thankful for my experience with shamanic journeying and healing; otherwise, I would be at a loss on how to deal with this. I ask the hostess to turn on the lights. I am tired of the darkness.

I fall back under Aya’s spell. My father, who passed away ten months earlier, appears with dark entities dancing around him. He wears a green cloak made out of Ayahuasca leaves. He asks me to join him. It is a bittersweet moment because this is the first time I have ‘seen’ him since his death, but I believe the dark forces have shape-shifted into his form to trick me. I’m not sure, so I tell him, “If that really is you, I’m sorry because I won’t join the darkness.” He disappears into the black void.

“It’s all a lie!” blares through my mind, followed by another round of projectile vomiting.

My husband finally arrives, and sits on a nearby chair, trying to assess the situation. He sees me with wild hair, talking nonsense and holding a pail lined with vomit. He is rightly concerned.

I ask him to sit next to me because I need to feel his loving energy. The hosts leave the room to give us privacy.

I tell my husband that I never knew how much I loved him until now. This makes him happy.

I look around the house. The painting on the wall changes again. It displays a devil seducing a woman. I consider that a bad omen and want to leave, but I am unable to walk. I have to wait.

I babble on and on about what I am seeing in the other ‘reality.’ My husband listens patiently, but is visibly tense.

He escorts me to the bathroom. I go in by myself, balancing against the walls and sink countertop. I manage to sit on the toilet and urinate for the first time since ingesting the concoction—a positive sign. I wobble to the sink and wash my hands. I look at myself in the mirror. I don’t look as bad as I feel.

My husband is waiting for me when I open the door, and helps me back into the living room where I sit on the couch. I drink more water. A minute later, I throw up, but it’s less forceful this time.

I stare at the water bottle. The water sends me a vision. I see the ruined Fukushima nuclear plant dumping radioactive wastewater into the ocean, a pipeline leaking over the United States’ largest aquifer, and fracking machines pounding chemicals into water supply. The water tells me they are killing us by contaminating the water—another form of global genocide.

The Voice reminds me to drink more water and I do, grateful that it is unpolluted.

At one point, I tell my husband about the people who keep cueing the images and sounds. He asks who “they” are. It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts. I answer, “They’re aliens who are in control of the Elite/New World Order, you know, the illuminati who control the secret government, which controls the corporations, which control the public governments.”

My husband doesn’t know how to respond and wants to leave since enough of the Ayahuasca has left my system that I am able to walk with help. He gathers my things and carries them to the car. I wait on the couch.

While he is outside, the hosts’ cat comes into the room. She sits in front of me and stares. I believe she is a fairy helping to balance the home’s energy. Her ears look like wings.

My husband returns and sits next to me. The cat stares at him, then walks closer. She sits up and puts her arm on the coffee table like a human would. My husband mentions that he has never seen a cat do that. I tell him the cat is fairy. He says it is time to leave.

It is now 1:30 a.m., and the hosts have long-since retreated to their bedroom. I text them to let them know I am leaving. My fingers stumbled over the keyboard. Autocorrect makes the message come together. I wait a minute. There is no response so I leave.

My husband escorts me outside. The warm breeze is refreshing. Arm in arm, we go down the stairs to the car.

He drives slowly back to the hotel. It feels so good to be back in this reality.

We pull into the hotel parking lot, which is full, forcing us to park on the other side. My husband holds my arm as I totter across the pavement holding a bucket, looking like a bad drunk.

Back in the room, I’m afraid to fall asleep—afraid that I will be pulled back into that psychotic hell. I keep drinking water. I suspect that I have nodded off, but I am not sure. I go to the bathroom again, grateful to urinate more of the substance out of my body. This repeats every 40-60 minutes, leaving me with very little sleep.

The next morning I feel terrible. We drive to a restaurant down the street for breakfast. A waitress comes to our table, warily looks at me and asks if I need coffee. I manage to eat, although I am nauseous. Little did I know that the nauseousness would continue for weeks.

Back home, I meditate everyday, but it isn’t until five days later that I feel my elusive connection to the Divine return. I am relieved when the loving energy flows through me, finally breaking through my barrier of fear.

During the meditation, I feel prompted to shamanic journey to ask for a healing for myself. A spirit guide and angels immediately greet me.

They perform an aura cleansing and remove my damaged energetic body, replacing it with a new one. As they burn the old ‘body,’ a black smoke rises and manifests into a dark entity, which tries to attach to my new energetic body. The angels prevent it, but the entity keeps trying. Finally, one of the angels seals the entity inside a jar, stating he will take it to another realm where the entity won’t be able to find me.

I return my attention to the spirit guide and remaining angels. I apologize for allowing myself to become vulnerable to the dark forces. They assure me that we all make mistakes and to forgive myself.

In hindsight, I should have meditated or prayed to ask whether Ayahuasca was right for me. And when I read that Ayahuasca is traditionally consumed at night, I should have realized that it might elicit spirits from the dark side. I went in expecting love and light, and instead journeyed to where the angels dare not tread.

Although it goes against popular opinion, I do not recommend Ayahuasca. I believe the risks are too great. I think its connection to the dark side is real, and that Ayahuasca is capable of producing images of “enlightenment” to entice people to ‘dance with the devil’. Despite my belief that the dark force is an illusion, I know that all thoughts have power and are capable of trapping us within their archetype belief system—derailing us rather than helping us.

While I consider the Ayahuasca experience to be the worst night of my life, I have managed to glean several positive things from it. First, I came to realize how much I love my husband. Second, my meditation sessions seem more intense, probably because I appreciate the divine connection more than I ever did before. And finally, I am much more conscious of my thoughts, and focus on being in the present moment because that is the closest we can get to eternity within this marvelous and sometimes dark illusion called life.

For more insights, read the post The Ayahuasca Party Crasher.

Book Review : Earth Sentinels by Shaman Elizabeth Herrera

Book reviewer, Merril Anil, has just written a glowing review of my novel, Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators.

Read Watch and Think

earth-sentinels-cover-kindle

Book : Earth Sentinels : The storm Creators

Author : Shaman Elizabeth Herrera

Plot : Exploitation on nature are on its full course and its consequences are affecting the live of millions.Its time for some of them to put an end to this and make the world take notice of the atrocities they are doing on mother nature in name of development . Together they will become the EARTH SENTINELS and do anything in their power to protect their home, their land, our world.

Rating: 5/5

Review

Beautiful

First of all a huge hug and thanks to Shaman Elizabeth Herrera , the author, for sharing the copy of her book with me. But do not take this as the reason why I loved the book. Yes I m grateful for the copy but there are whole other reasons why I loved the book.
Earth sentinels definitely stands out for the…

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Funeral of the last butterfly

Touching words that take us into the secret world of nature mourning the loss of the last butterfly. I pray we stop the madness, before it’s too late.

Perspectives on Life, the Universe and Everything

I was invited
to the funeral
of the last butterfly
All the birds were there
Insects made a wreath
Queen bee sung a melancholy
Grief too great to bear
Colours already left
Now the last butterfly gone
Everyone felt so lonely
Earthlings were alone
Far away in the sky
a thunder cloud
lightning strike,
a Phoenix flew in
Tears in its eyes,
sprayed on butterfly wings
Butterfly come to life
In all our hearts
Light of her soul
removed despair
Humanity wake up
When would you care
Planet is for all
We have to share
Might won’t work
win if we dare
Extinction of plants
Insects, animals all admire
Greenery in gardens
Fields and shire
Everything could go
If we don’t spare
Consume less,
Don’t scare
Nature, heavens
Water, our own air
Wind may blow
So does rain
Last butterfly
may flutter again
I wish, hope and pray

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http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/witness-protection/
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/if-i-ruled-the-world/

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The GMO Suicides

ox cartSince 1997, there have been over 200,000 suicides by farmers in India’s Cotton Belt.

The entry of Monsanto in the Indian seed sector was made possible with a 1998 Seed Policy imposed by the World Bank, requiring the Government of India to deregulate the seed sector.¹

In 1997-98, Monsanto started open field trials of its GMO Bt cotton illegally with the intent to sell the seeds the following year.¹

Cotton seed has historically been among farmers’ lowest expenses. During the harvest, cotton growers would cultivate crop seeds and save them for the following season. As a general practice, they also would swap seeds with neighboring farmers, ensuring through natural selection that subsequent generations of cotton seed would be best suited for the region. Although local cotton did not provide the same potential yields as cotton seed from the Americas, it had adapted to India’s unique climate — an intense monsoon season followed by months of drought.²

After the introduction of GMO seeds, fifty percent of an Indian farmer’s debt was for the purchase of new seeds. GMO seeds cost up to 10 times more than traditional seeds and are structured to self destruct, ensuring that farmers must purchase new seeds the following year—further increasing their debt.²

To afford GMO cotton seeds, the farmer must take out a seed loan from the State Bank of India. If the crop fails, which is highly probable since GMO cotton is designed for use in irrigated fields, the farmer will not be able to pay back the loan and will be denied a second loan. The farmer then will turn to an unregulated private moneylender who charges usurious rates, sometimes as high as 100 percent. A second crop failure, or even an underperforming crop, can place the farmer in a hole so deep that many turn to suicide.²

As Monsanto’s profits grow, farmers’ debt grows. It is in this systemic sense that Monsanto’s seeds are seeds of suicide.¹

jim carey monsanto

 

 

 

Credits:

¹Global Research: http://www.globalresearch.ca/the-seeds-of-suicide-how-monsanto-destroys-farming/5329947

² Combat-monsanto.co.uk: http://www.combat-monsanto.co.uk/spip.php?article549

Setting Down My Sword

park closedWhen I was a kid, I lived on an idyllic street in Lansing, Michigan. The street had a soft hill that gently ended at a park along the Grand River. Here the neighborhood kids would play on the swing set and monkey bars, but not in the water. Even then, it was so dirty that none of us dared go near it. Rumors of multiple rounds of tetanus shots and hospital visits kept us at bay.

The Grand River was a victim of factory and car manufacturing plants’ waste from upstream. (Lansing is home to Oldsmobile and many other car part manufacturers.)

At that time, a well-known TV commercial aired, featuring a Native American, complete with a feathered headdress, who cried while watching pollution spew into the water, air and land.

Since then, most citizens have “cleaned up their act,” but corporations continue to dump and spill toxic oil and chemicals. In December, Shanghai ordered all cars off the road because the air was too polluted to breathe. Yesterday, a bill was passed in the NC Senate that makes it a felony to reveal the chemicals that the fossil fuel companies put in the water used for fracking, and there was an oil spill in the Grand River.

Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators

Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators

I’m tired of others destroying the planet for profit, but I can’t help but wonder if my time would be better spent releasing my negativity to the spirit for healing, and letting others fight the battle. I spent that last eight months writing the book, Earth Sentinels, which focuses on the current environmental concerns while at the same time instilling hope. It was a way of releasing my anger.

I believe that the world is a projection of our minds. So in that sense, all that happens is part of my mind and yours. So what needs to healed is in our own minds. Today, I’ll sit and meditate, releasing all these thoughts of a polluted world to the Spirit for healing. It’s my part, my way, of doing something. And I firmly believe that if enough of us do it, we can change the world.

Imbalances in Our Environment—Reflections of Ourselves

california's burningWhile a large part of the USA is experiencing severe drought and California is ablaze with forest fires, the snowstorm Achilles dropped over a foot of snow onto Minnesota and western Wisconsin a few weeks ago.

Shamans believe that extreme weather conditions are a reflection of a spiritual imbalance—that our thoughts of fear, guilt, anger, etc. are being reflected by the environment. To help remedy the situation, shamans perform healing ceremonies to help heal the people first. Change our thoughts, change the world! But, people have to be willing to change. The shaman doesn’t force the change—they can only coax and explain on a spiritual level. Every person that agrees, even if unconsciously, allows the negativity to be released to the spirits for healing. Once enough people agree, a tipping point is reached and the balance is restored.

In addition, the shamans will talk with the weather consciousnesses to ask them for a desired outcome. For example, in California, the shaman might talk with sky, asking for rain clouds to form and release their precious rainwater. In Minnesota and Wisconsin, the shaman might request that the arctic jet streams recede, allowing the warm southern winds to enter. Each request depends on what the shaman learns while communicating with the divine spirits.

In a strange way, the bizarre weather patterns are bringing our fears to the surface, allowing us to see what has been lying below our unconscious minds, providing an opportunity for healing. Shamans and spiritual leaders are skilled at helping mankind to remember its divinity, but each of us is capable of providing healing for ourselves and others.

Below is a healing meditation technique for everyday use: 

Sit comfortably and close your eyes.

Envision a golden ball of light above your head.

Imagine the light coming down through the crown of your head, entering your body, slowly moving downward.

When it reaches your feet, imagine it circling you, moving up until it fully encompasses your body.

Once you are immersed in the light, imagine it extending around the room, then your home or building. See it extend over your community, city, state and country. See it fully engulf the world.

Your loving energy will impact the entire universe, because we are One!

For more on this topic, read my new novel, Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators.

My Mother’s Purse

mom's purseThere is a purse that sits in a makeshift shrine in my bedroom that used to belong to my mother. Its contents are sentimental. There is a travel-size container of hand lotion she religiously applied, and several tubes of lipstick, pale pink and peach. She also kept an address list tucked inside, handy for her unexpected visits to friends and family. On the tattered sheets were handwritten edits — phone numbers, emails and addresses. A log roll of the people she loved.

Throughout my life, my mother talked to me about her numerous friends, distant relatives and co-workers. Irritated, I would interrupt her. “Mom! I don’t know who you’re talking about!” I knew even then, I’d regret those words. Wasn’t I the one who reminded her to be kind to her own mother? Telling her that grandma would be gone one day. Yet she is still alive. It’s my mother who is gone. It’s been over three years since her passing and I still have her purse. The purse I couldn’t let go of after her sudden death. I carried it from her home to my car, to the funeral home, and while shopping for the clothes she would be buried in — ultimately taking it home with me.

Now when I look at her purse, I am reminded of the summer day she lovingly pushed my sister in a stroller while I walked beside her, listening to the wheels ticking rhythmically over the sidewalk. I remember her breastfeeding my two younger siblings and boiling their cloth diapers so they wouldn’t get a diaper rash. But I also remember her crying while my father was at work. She felt stifled by staying home alone. How she longed to go out into the world and socialize. (I also suspect some of her tears were due to raising three headstrong, highly creative, guiltless children.)

Today, I remember my mother with love. That strange, intertwining emotion that she and I shared as we pushed each other’s emotional buttons, fought and made up. How I wish I could send her flowers today, on her birthday, then she would call me to say, “Thank you! They’re beautiful!” and immediately begin telling me stories about people I don’t know.

Saving Mother Earth—Before It’s Too Late!

The video below, sung by Michael Jackson, vividly shows the devastation that is currently besieging our world. And, it’s only gotten worse since. We have to educate ourselves about what is going on around us. We can no longer afford to stick our heads in the sand. Once we know, we can begin using earth-friendly methods for fuel, food and products—responsibly producing, using and disposing of these things, as well as demanding that our government and community do the same, before it’s too late!

Earth Sentinels, The Storm Creators

Earth Sentinels, The Storm Creators

My novel, Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators, takes a harsh look at some of the unjust actions that are destroying our environment: GMOs, oil spills, fracking, tearing down the rainforests and the nuclear meltdown in Fukushima. The story takes you on an epic adventure where the main characters fight back to protect our planet.

Knowledge is power! We can make a difference. Let’s start today.

Earth Sentinels — A Journey Through Self Discovery

Earth Sentinels, The Storm Creators

Earth Sentinels, The Storm Creators

When I write a story, my underlying motive is to learn and grow spiritually. My latest novel, Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators, is no exception. Although the plot seems like a protest against the environmental assaults besieging our planet, it was written to help answer a strong, underlying question that kept nagging at me, If we are One, connected to every particle in the universe, how can we attack anyone or anything without attacking ourselves? 

I went around in circles trying to figure out how to “save” the world without attacking myself, but I couldn’t find an acceptable solution. So, before I started writing, I set the intention that I would discover the answer by living vicariously through my book’s characters. In each chapter, I explored their anger at having their lives and way of life threatened and the land destroyed. I let them feel empowered and justified as they demanded that the world use only earth-friendly methods. And, as the events escalated and the world retaliated, I let them feel remorse, guilt and even more rage.

One of the conversations in the book that offered valuable insights was between the character, Haruto, who lives in Fukushima, Japan, and her spirit guides—three samurai soldiers, a crone and priestess. At this point in the story, she is talking with them while sitting around a firepit:

The priestess picked up a delicate, white smoking pipe with cherry blossoms painted on its bowl. She lit it with a twig plucked from the fire. After a few puffs, she passed it to Haruto who smoked it, then passed it to the samurai sitting next to her. As the pipe made its rounds, the crone spoke in a hoarse voice, “I believe you received an answer earlier today, one which you ignored.”

“You mean when I was told that the nuclear disaster was a reflection of my own mind?” Haruto asked.

The crone chortled, “You do remember!”

Haruto ignored the comment, instead appealing to the samurai soldiers, “You must understand the need to fight! You made warfare a sacred calling.”

The samurai in black armor answered, “In a sense, everything is spiritual. However, attack is always against yourself. Oft times, we must fight a battle, if only to learn to lay down our arms.”

The red-armored samurai piped in, “When you understand that fighting’s sole purpose is to preserve your own illusions, you will stop fighting.”

“What’s the point?” Haruto asked, exasperated.

“There is no point, except to learn there is no point,” the samurai in green offered.

 

I invite you take this marvelous journey and hope you find it as insightful (and fun) as I did.

Blessed journeys!
Elizabeth

PURCHASE BOOK

PURCHASE KINDLE EBOOK

 

everything that is love cannot be fear…

the Hunt for Truth

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After he was diagnosed with leukemia, Wayne Dyer decided to have an unconventional surgery with healer John of God. The twist? John of God was in Brazil; Wayne was in Maui. Watch as he describes the surgery and how he felt immediately thereafter:

How did Wayne feel after his “sutures” were removed?
Plus, watch to find out how he’s said he was feeling afterward:

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“… everything that is fear cannot be love…
everything that is love cannot be fear…”

Wayne DyerHe embraced the mysterious ways of spiritual blessings from love. Stories like Dyer and others give me pause… love is of God… incomprehensible and yet, perfectly wonderful. This man and his work is of love.

Seek Inner Peace

Wayne Dyer’s “10 Principles for Success and Inner Peace” work explores basic principles for changing one’s outlook on life. The principles for success and inner peace is a simple, honest guide to living…

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Let’s Manifest Peace!

obama-putin_2637988bAs a war in the Ukraine looms over our heads, peace becomes a welcomed alternative. It’s hard not to feel helpless when the world governments are caught up in conflict and misinformation abounds.

My initial reaction was to protest the impending war with Russia. But, it didn’t feel right. We manifest our thoughts, so protesting war seemed to reinforce the possibility.

I prayed about it, but truthfully, I didn’t expect an answer to this man-made dilemma. But, a few hours later, a Facebook post showed up in my email. It had a link to an article on the technique of Ho’oponopono, used by Dr. Hew Len to cure a ward of mentally ill criminals.

The astounding part is the doctor didn’t meet with the patients! He simply sat in his office, realizing that every negative “aspect” in this world was a reflection of his mind. He healed the inmates by simply acknowledging he needed to heal himself first. So, he sat, looking at their files, while stating these words: “I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.”

This was done consistently, over and over, and the inmates got better. It worked so well that mental ward was closed down because the inmates had been healed!

Today, I propose that you take a moment to think of President Obama and Russia’s President Putin and the Ukraine president. As you think of each one, say these words: “I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.”

If you have difficulty praying for a president you didn’t vote, do it anyway. If you have difficulty praying for a perceived enemy, do it anyway. Feel the peace that comes with love, forgiveness and power.

Let’s see if we can manifest peace.

“I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.”
Shaman Elizabeth
To read the full article, written by Rosario Montenegro, click here.

INTERVIEW WITH AUTHOR: SHAMAN ELIZABETH HERRERA

ellisnelson

Shaman Elizabeth Herrera Shaman Elizabeth Herrera

Shaman Elizabeth is a healer whose life has been filled with miracles. She is dedicated to helping others believe that miracles are possible and encouraging them to accept these wondrous gifts for themselves. She offers healing and spiritual advising to promote physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. With deep connections to the Divine and help from enlightened guides and teachers, Shaman Elizabeth accesses your spiritual Self through the visionary process of shamanic journeying (Native American spirituality) to heal and offer guidance.

shaman-stone-soup-cover-large

For those unfamiliar with shamanism, a shaman is a person who accesses the spirit world for the purpose of divination or healing. Shamanism is ancient drawing from multi-cultural roots throughout Asia, Africa, Australasia, and the Americas.

Elizabeth is another author I had the good fortune to connect with through blogging and I’m so glad I did! She has several books published and today we will concern ourselves mainly…

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Follow Your Heart

Listening-to-inner-guidance

Following an alternative spiritual path can be a difficult choice. Often, there is little support from friends and family. This is especially true if you are leaving an established religion. Others may feel that you have become the “black sheep” of the family, or worse, that you are losing your mind.

But, other opinions are minor compared to your own fears and doubts that will emerge while letting go of the familiar and following an unknown path. Since, every spiritual journey is unique, you will have to learn to rely on the Spirit’s guidance. This can be scary in the beginning, because you haven’t learned to trust the Divine guidance yet. You will vacillate between listening your own “common sense and judgement” and listening to the Divine. This means your new-found path may be riddled with “mistakes.” A mistake is a clear sign that you relied on your own judgement instead of Divine guidance.

“Mistakes” are learning devices, offering contrasts between light and dark. And, after each mistake, you’ll be a little wiser. You’ll see where you didn’t listen to the Divine, Who quietly nudged your heart. Soon, you’ll learn to consistently ask/pray for guidance before making each decision and wait with a quiet mind, letting the Divine breakthrough, offering you guidance, which you then follow. This process seems simple, but it’s amazing how we much resist Divine guidance, and how much doubt and fear will rise to the surface when we feel/hear it. We’ll think things like, What if it wasn’t the spirit’s voice, but my own?…What if people think I’m crazy…What if the Voice is wrong? 

How do you know the difference between the ego’s voice and the Divine’s voice? Ask yourself, Does it feel loving?, Does it feel right? Your feelings are much truer than your thoughts. Thoughts are of the ego/world, while loving/peaceful feelings are of the Divine. Fear-based “feelings” (anger, anxiety, hopelessness, irritation, etc.) stem from thoughts produced by your ego. Fear signifies that you are listening to yourself, and not the Divine. When you follow your heart, without caring what other’s think, without listening to the fears that bubble to the surface, you can be sure it’s the right thing to do.

 

If you have a problem letting go of your fears, try these mediations.

Book Inspired by Vivid Dream

Dreams of Dying

Dreams of Dying

It’s fitting that my newest book, Dreams of Dying, contains the word “dreams” in the title, because it was inspired by a vivid dream I had last November.

In the dream, I was shown four pivotal scenes of a woman, who lost her family in a car crash. In every scene, Jesus accompanied and comforted her.

I knew I’d write the story one day, but I wasn’t sure how the scenes would connect or how the story would end.

That year, Christmas weekend was longer than usual. I had four days with nothing to do except open gifts and eat. By the second day, I wondered what to do with myself and began to write.

Over the course of six months, I wrote and edited the story, praying before each session, asking that the story be portrayed as Jesus had intended. I wrote copy that didn’t make sense to me at the time, but slowly it came together…almost perfectly connecting from beginning to end. As a dear friend said, “It’s been blessed.”

The publisher has finally set the release date for early 2014. You can be a part of the book’s success by reviewing it on Amazon, Goodreads, etc., purchasing it, and letting your friends know you enjoyed reading it!

To learn more about the book and keep abreast of events, new books and release dates, visit my author site.

Tell Me Why I Continue to Hold onto This Dream

In Greek mythology the goddess Nyx stood at or...

In Greek mythology the goddess Nyx stood at or near the beginning of creation. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Channeled message: You love this dream. You make plans, you create, you love and hate, you laugh and cry. You love it all. It’s your creation, but you look at it through the ego’s vision and it is distorted, because you look at it alone.

It was created with the power of God, because you are God. But after its creation, you wanted it for yourself. This is when the pain, guilt and belief of separation began. Give this world back to God, back to your brother. Give your fondest creation back to all of Creation and you will see the beauty that lies below the illusion of form. You will see the love, the energy, that allows you create the form. It allows because it loves you. It allows because this is your wish. Offer your creation to the Spirit, ask for its transformation, its purification. Ask to see the love that is there…the love that has never left.