I am that I am

English: Deepak Chopra in November 2006, speak...

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“…Death has been with you every moment of your life…You have survived thousands of deaths every day as your old thoughts, your old cells, your old emotions, and even your old identity passed away. Everyone is living in the afterlife right now. What is there to fear? When people wonder if the personality survives death, the answer is that personality doesn’t even survive while we are alive. We are not the same person we were five, ten, or fifteen years ago…Our personalities are constantly evolving, transforming, growing.” ~ Deepak ChopraLife After Death: The Burden of Proof

In his book, Chopra mentioned that we can experience both happiness and sadness with the same welcome, because neither are real. This really hit home later while I was cooking dinner a wave of fruitlessness passed over me. As I focused on this emotion, I remembered that it wasn’t really ‘me’ and away it went. It was the first time I practiced non-attachment of my emotions and realized how freeing it could be.

So if I am not my personality, my body or my thoughts, who am I? While I believe that I am an eternal, perfect being—a lifetime of a changing body, events, and thoughts have made it nearly impossible to totally comprehend this belief.

I have tried to “find” my true self by meditating daily, losing myself to the love that flows through me. I know that this perception is much closer to the real me than my normal reality, but it’s still a limited experience, because it uses my senses. Chopra wrote, “Vedanta holds that consciousness is convinced by its own creations. Therefore, nothing we can see, hear, and touch, whether in waking, dreaming, or beyond both, is ultimately real. They represent shifting perspectives.” It is the illusion convincing itself of its own reality!

If this life is an illusion, then where do we really reside? We often think of our true selves going “somewhere” after we die, such as heaven or hell.

I had an experienced in October 2010, a few days after my mother passed, which helped me to see that we don’t go anywhere—it is only our perception that changes. The event took place at my mother’s workplace. I was in a meeting with my sister and the HR director who was going over our mother’s life insurance benefits, which had been split evenly between us. Then the HR director mentioned that my mother’s pension had been given solely to my sister. I immediately felt resentment, but I didn’t want to feel this way toward my sister, especially while I was grieving for my mother. So I asked the Spirit to take this painful emotion from me. It was then that I experienced my greatest miracle.

Here are the details taken from my book, Shaman Stone Soup“After the meeting, we were taken to my mother’s cubicle to clean it out. I was emotionally distant from my sister as we emptied the drawers. I kept battling against the resentment that picked at me, and I asked the Spirit to take this thought from me.

Suddenly, my mother’s spirit descended over me. Her presence completely surrounded me and her vision became mine. Through my mother’s eyes, the whole world glowed with love and beams of light radiated from my sister. My mother’s memories filled my consciousness, and I could see my sister as the little girl, teenager and young woman she had raised. My mother saw her as an innocent daughter, who would be taken care of with the pension she had inherited. I felt the comfort that it gave my mother and the love she had for my sister.

Immediately, all resentment left me. I knew my mother had given the pension out of love, and as I experienced that love, it became impossible for me to feel anything else. 

Then my mother was gone.”

Although I had never left the room, the dreary office space had transformed into golden light. My sister, the room and even the world, became faint outlines and love became the predominant vision. It made me realize that we don’t go someplace else to find ourselves. Love is all around us.

Death was not the end of my mother. She was able to communicate with me and send her love. The miracle had helped to show that we are all connected, whether we have a body or not.

Perhaps recognizing our true selves is taken in baby steps. Starting with a willingness to find it and asking for help from a higher source who sees beyond our illusion. We then begin receiving visions and experiences of pure love, which help us to develop a more “real” perception within this illusion, a step that allows us to ready ourselves for the final step into all-encompassing love.

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.

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.

Gold Nuggets

michael-jackson-goldLast night was one of those nights. Where the dreams were intense and the spirit guides were busy giving lessons. One dream, oddly enough had Michael Jackson in it. I supposed it was because of his recent death.

In the dream, Michael was working behind a sales counter. A customer came in and threw a brick at him. The brick knocked him to the ground. Another customer came in, picked up the brick and threw it again. Michael hit the wall, then fell to the floor. This went on for a while, customer after customer, until he succumbed to his injuries, rising up as a spirit.

I picked up the brick to examine it. Lodged in its backside were gold nuggets. The gold nuggets represented each blow that had hit him. I noticed that the crevices and nuggets in the brick had formed a map. I handed it to Michael’s spirit, then said, “Your life’s experiences have created a treasure map to be used in the next life.”

 

Will You Go to Heaven?

A question was raised today by my hairdresser: “Do you think everyone will go to heaven? Even the murderers?”

We are not our bodies, thoughts or actions, which are part of a temporary world and not eternal. Our spirits are eternal and have never stopped being perfect. Our spirits have never lost their connection to their divine source. So, the question, “Will everyone go to heaven?” can be answered by simply saying, “We have never left.”

Blessed journeys!