It is getting on for late afternoon as I crank up the laptop, sat outside in the garden, the gentle September breeze cools the suns heat on my black leggings. I try to ignore the cat casually licking her bum on the garden sofa next to me. I was reading Bruce Lipton’s ‘The Biology of Belief’ until a thought floated into my easily distracted mind. If I’m writing a blog, surely its readers deserve to know from whence these musings spring forth?
I also want to be clear before I bimble forth, that the whole reason I am writing this stuff is a hope as you read, your eyes widen and you whisper to yourself, ‘oh my god yes! Yes I totally get that! I’ve had that too, experienced that too! I’m not mad, that’s a thing that happens! That’s connection that is. Connection is the next level up‘. Let me know.
I have always been ‘spiritual’, I have put this in quotation marks as I consider this a label. Labels are normally attached to associations and stereotypes, misunderstandings, and exaggerations. I am a ‘spiritual’ person and always have been, before I knew I was, I was. Spiritual for me means the recognition of the something other than what we see and experience on this stage of life. The otherness works away backstage, making the scenery, creating atmosphere, providing the boards upon which we dance our tales in life. Otherness for me is the universe (some call this source or God), energy, how this life/death cycle works (or reincarnation), the purpose of human evolution, angels, spirits, other dimensions, Atlantis, divine design and connections.
As soon as I could talk I began describing a past life in crystal caves. Apparently (as I no longer actually remember) my mum told me I used words nobody around me used and described things she knew I had never seen (in this life). I would ask my mum if she remembered things, scenarios, people, and places. My mum, worried about where I was getting this information, had set about looking for answers, and found books about reincarnation. On my fifth birthday my mum decided to ask me about the crystal caves and I replied that I didn’t know what she was talking about.
I have since done my own research. A recent read ‘Where Reincarnation and Biology Intersect‘ by Ian Stevenson M.D. provided the credible research evidence and resonated with me as my truth. I try to read books written by people with PhD’s or equivalents nowadays as the work tends to be well executed and thoroughly researched. I would love to share my ‘game changers’ with you and see if anyone felt the same:
These have been read alongside numerous other Art Psychotherapy books and journal articles. I will say that this heady mix has been peppered with the bawdy delights of Tom Sharpe, Caitlin Moran’s thoroughly spiffing work and my guilty pleasure, any book by Jilly Cooper. I’ve done my fair share of reading all things Wiccan, (white not black magik), soaked up the likes of The Goop Lab, Missing Links by Greg Braden and the Transcendence series both of which reside on The Gaia network. The James Redfield books, if you haven’t read them yet, are in my humble opinion, rip roaring adventures but a little clunkily written. The adventures are engaging and that’s the first important thing that needs to happen for these books to work. The revelations that are revealed during the adventures are instructions for the reader, without which engagement in the adventure wouldn’t be so well absorbed in the brain. The revelations are keys to our evolutionary development as individuals and as a world community. So clunkiness pales into insignificance when the story opened my brain allowing a smoother imparting of the wisdoms within.
So this folks, is just the literary melting pot I bring to this table. My life experience in a nut shell has so far been a spectrum of colour which spans from the darkest of dark to the lightest of light. Many of us have the same spectrum or some variation on this metaphoric theme. Some of us learn that it’s not so much the spectrum we are dealt, but what we choose to do with the colours that determines our growth. I denied the darker than dark colours for the longest time, not realising the insidious darkness growing within. It wasn’t until I began my MA that the cork came out and I stumbled headfirst towards psychosis. Fortunately, I had just enough ‘gummiberry juice’ to drag myself to the doctors and get referred for some kind of help.
Help has been a journey in and of itself. So far I have learnt ‘professional help’ is like a surgeon dressing a wound that they cannot see, they can only rely on the tools they have been given and the practice of their profession to work on the wound. The surgeon can gauge the healing (or not) from outward signs they are taught to look for but only the patient knows if they are truly healing or not. This can be complicated further by the patients (and sometimes the surgeons) ego state, mental state, emotional state and energy state making progress (or not) more difficult to ascertain. The severity of the wound might not correspond with the surgeons abilities so the patient needs to work out if they need a sticking plaster, a wound gauze or an operation. As only the owner of the wound can tell if it’s being healed or not, it may take trying a few ‘surgeons’ before your own real work can be done. I found the right surgeon for me and I can honestly say she saved my life. Of course, I saved my life too. My mum and my stepdad helped too. As did my kids, by just being them in their best loony way. And also the cats that share my house, who always keep it real.
I will share with you next time the ‘all new and improved’ point in my recovery process, and I hope I am not the only one who has felt this…
Category: Attachment Theory, Book Review, Creative Counselling, Personal, Pondering, PTSD, Self Care, UncategorizedTags: Book Review, Game changers, Light and Dark, Literary Reviews, musings, Psychosis, Spectrum of colour