We are patterned beings, and at times we get stuck. We get comfortable and may not even realize that we’re stuck. Signs may appear that we’re not in our best place, and our joyful self may be hiding out, afraid to claim what we deserve, know we need or yearn to manifest.

I’ve been struggling with worthiness, receiving… and some elements of healing some old crud in my life. Earlier this year, I continued with my work, grew excited about my new paths of employment, yet noticed some of my “old,” familiar patterns of certain fears and overwork creeping in again. But I said and believed I was fine. Friends expressed their concern, and I knew I needed some changes, but I honestly didn’t know how or what exactly to do for what probably needed to shift.

And then the Universe, trying to get my attention with my ignoring certain signs and inner knowing, threw me a concussion. First one ever in my life. It was scary, I’ll admit, and pain and all kinds of unpleasant symptoms ensued. I slowed down and listened. Just to be sure, it seems, two more difficult physical challenge cycles appeared within the month that followed my concussion recovery. While difficult experiencing this sequence of three physical vulnerabilities within about six weeks, I can assure you they’re all gifts and sources of opportunity—and reinvention. My immediate needs were slowing my pace and asking for help, two actions that often have triggered struggle and avoidance in me.

Numerology, a tool I use with all of my Turtle Healing Energy services, uses our birthdate to determine significant numbers and meanings that can help us know our true mission in our life and also know our cycles of experiences and lessons. Running in cycles of nine years, we end and begin lessons and phases in our lives, and knowing and understanding these cycles can offer insights and tools we may not otherwise consider. The gift of the end of a nine-year cycle, a major loss in our lives, a health challenge and other times that offer the choice of “shift or suffer” is reinvention. When we’re in a painful place and can choose whether to succumb to and remain on an unhealthy path or risk for the hope of a more joyful outcome, what a wonderful time to reinvent ourselves and make the changes that will allow us to live more joyfully, freely and healthily this lifetime.

When the “big stuff is shakin’ down,” and those signals to change are screaming, ask yourself
1. Where is my biggest pain right now?
2. What is this pain urging me to do on physical, emotional and spiritual levels?
3. What do I need to do to heal, choose joy and get on a different, healthier path?

While it sometimes hurts (literally) getting there and understanding what we need to do to have different results and choose joy, reinvention cycles are such blessings! Through my reiki sessions, intuitive card readings and soon-to-be-officially-offered grief intuitive coaching, I am honored to help others see how even the most heart-wrenching circumstances are really just pushing us to get back on path and keep going. Even death, one of the toughest journeys we experience when loved ones leave this planet, is a plea for reinvention.

As Sue Frederick—author (I See Your Dream Job, I See Your Soul Mate, Bridges to Heaven, among other books), speaker, intuitive and beautiful soul—reminds us often, “Let your pain be your fuel.” For most of us, if things are comfortable, why would we have reason to shift? Our pain in whatever shape(s) it may take, pushes us to do something differently because most of us don’t like to be in pain—or at least for too long. Sometimes the Universe offers us a beautiful (we may not use “beautiful” while in the painful experience, mind you) gesture, which we can choose to use as reinvention, otherwise known as big shifts, changes in our path, and what I like to call opportunities to choose joy.

I’m still proudly human (read imperfect), and I get reminders when I need to majorly change a pattern, so I have my own supportive network of lovelies (both on earth and in spiritual realms) that push me to shift, remind me of my true path and love me no matter what. We need to surround ourselves with supportive beings who see us for who we are and support our abundant, joyful path, especially when we doubt or forget.

***I thank my teachers and friends Deborah Wilson (Angels And Prosperity) and Sue Frederick for inspiring me to think differently, choose reinvention and influence the approaches explained in this post.

© Erika M. Schreck and Turtle Healing Energy, 2013. All rights reserved.

The one thing I ever made any effort to collect was rocks. As a young child, I would find the pretty, the unique and the sparkly rocks… starting in my Grandma and Grandpa Schreck’s long, gravel driveway. My father usually accompanied me and encouraged my rock-collecting; when we visited local parks and went camping, Dad made sure I had carefully chosen my token rocks. And when my dad drove us in the long, blue station wagon with faux-wood trim to Colorado when I was nine, we stopped in South Dakota to see Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse, and I was so excited to take away rocks from these actual rock formations, provided in “free” bins at both of these landmarks.

My collection grew. I would take them out, really look at each rock’s surface, noting nicks, color variations, holes, perfect imperfections. Some had fun names because I could not locate the actual type in my guide book, like the lighter white and gray rocks with small holes, which I nicknamed my “woodpecker rocks” because I imagined that a bird must have put the holes there. On occasion, I’d take my collection outside to run water over them and let them dry in the sun. Something was so grounding about having pieces of the earth. Sometimes I’d have a certain stone in my backpack or a few in my suitcase; they were a source of groundedness, memories and adornment. I kept them in a basic cardboard box, labeled with something like “Erika’s Rocks.”

And then they suddenly disappeared. I eventually learned my ex-step-father “threw them out”—he told me himself, off-handedly, when I had repeatedly searched our basement in vain and asked where my rock collection had gone.

I had initial heavy disappointment. Many of the places I’d visited, particularly with my father, and my deep connection with Nature were in those prized pieces, and my guide books were also lost with that collection. But this tale is not tragic.

orange calcite (left) and rose quartz (right)

Last week, while doing reiki with a client in my healing space, I’d just placed a large, smooth rose quartz in one of her hands and a lovely piece of orange calcite in her other hand, and I was happily startled with a realization. I glanced around my healing space, as I continued with said client’s reiki session, and smiled, taking in the plethora of gemstones in varying sizes. I have been re-collecting rocks. Even right before this client had arrived for her appointment, I’d placed my toothbrush on the small shelf in my personal bathroom, next to two rocks I’d collected from a beautiful lake area in Wisconsin.

Rocks and gemstones are in every room of my home, and I haven’t until recently made the connection that these additions are in some sense continuing a sacred practice I’ve reclaimed. I have countless gemstones and gift them often as part of my healing work; they amplify energy so beautifully and powerfully. And metamorphic and sedimentary rocks (rocks I found on the ground, in the woods, in rivers) are also sprinkled throughout my home—I recently found one in a backpack I’ve had for a long time, tucked away deeply in a pocket. Even my fireplace ledge has huge, heavy, colored rocks from the ground in Crestone, Colorado—a gift from a kind, former neighbor.

How wonderful to reclaim our passions, our identity and our power as we age—it is our choice. Sometimes it takes a bit of time for us to see the patterns in our choices, and I’m grateful for yet another interesting realization. All is not lost, and never will be. With rocks and so many “things,” detachment is great practice.

Sometimes it’s time to let go; sometimes it’s time for the new.

© Erika M. Schreck and Turtle Healing Energy, 2013. All rights reserved.

Many years ago, I first learned of feng shui, probably a familiar phrase or concept to many of you. You can find so much about feng shui on the internet, and one of my favorite resources is Feng Shui and Space Clearing consultant and well-known writer Karen Kingston, who said the following and captured the overall essence of feng shui and space clearing:

“By adjusting and balancing the flow of energy
within your home, you can powerfully and effectively
influence the course of your life.”
Karen Kingston, Creating Sacred Space with Feng Shui

Having read even more about feng shui, applying many of its principles and really thinking about its teachings, I am always so drawn to the main concepts of “when we make room by letting go of things, we create space for the new” and “ask, ‘Does it lift me?‘ when deciding what things need to be donated, kept or thrown away.” I’ve been taking several steps with my physical things lately, given a huge surge in energy I received around space clearing, such as donating clothes and other items, cleaning/snaking bathroom drains (eeewww, but necessary and rewarding), organizing my yarn stash (some of you understand, I know), and so forth because I wish to shift major energies and welcome new life shifts like Mr. Partner and a new home. I’m feeling lighter and so much better!

But I always place the concepts of feng shui in other contexts and encourage you to re-frame Kingston’s words as “by adjusting and balancing the flow of energy within my ____ [relationship, job, body], I can powerfully and effectively influence the course of my life.” And shifts happen! I wrote a blog post two years ago titled “Feng Shui Your Friends” [click title to link to post], which supports this re-framing and use of feng shui application in all areas of our lives and encourages us to realize our power in choosing where, to whom and to what we direct and possibly disconnect our energy. I so often remind clients and even myself that we need to truly let go of people, patterns, places and physical things that no longer serve us so that we may create space for these life aspects that do lift and support us and create more joy.

Where do you need to let go, so you can move on and see shifts? Then, take action. Even small steps make a huge difference. Perhaps even consider hiring a professional to assist you with getting on the right track, such as a professional organizer (see below for one great resource) or coach.

© Erika M. Schreck and Turtle Healing Energy, 2013. All rights reserved.

You may also enjoy another post I wrote about feng shui:
Click here to read “Release the Clutter and Create Space for the Great.”

A local consultant who can help you eliminate and
organize clutter/stuff: Myra Young, Spaciousness Unlimited.
Click here to check out and Like this lovely resource on
Facebook–great tips offered often, when you Like this page!

This blog post is not about preventing horrific tragedies like our recent Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, though I continue to send so much love and light to the families, those lost and those who remain. I’ve been guided to say something about the many opportunities on a daily basis to keep our kids and perhaps even kids we don’t know… safe. Have you stood up for, or would you stand for, a child needing defense and protection in some way?

This morning I smiled and felt gratitude as I read a story about a waiter in Houston who stood up for a young boy with Down Syndrome:

A Houston waiter who refused to serve a customer last week did not lose his job. Instead, Michael Garcia is being celebrated for standing up for a little boy with Down syndrome, with people stopping to shake his hand at the restaurant where regulars are made to feel like part of the family.

One of those regulars, Kim Castillo, was at Laurenzo’s Prime Rib in Houston last week when several waiters stopped by her table. Her 5-year-old son, Milo, who has Down syndrome and whose speech is a little delayed, was showing off his new words and talking about his birthday the week earlier.

A family sitting nearby asked to move away from  the Castillo family’s table, and a man in the group made a disparaging remark about Milo.

“I heard the man say, ‘Special needs children need to be special somewhere else,’” Garcia told NBC affiliate KPRC-TV in. “My personal feelings took over, and I told him, ‘I’m not going to be able to serve you, Sir.’”

“‘How could you say that?’” Garcia said he asked the man before he left the restaurant with his party. “‘How could you say that about a beautiful 5-year-old angel?’”

~ Lisa Flam, NBC News, “Waiter Hailed as Hero after Standing up for Boy…”

Experiencing physical and emotional abuse from age five through 17 from my former step-father, I am extra-sensitive when people do not protect their own kids or even kids with whom they share contact. Lately I admit I’ve been thinking a lot about this issue, as I’ve had to face my former abuser, most recently when he arrived at my grandfather’s wake (see my last post about my recent grandfather’s passing). Even after 20+ years, my stomach still turns to see him; I’ve not had a formal conversation with him since he kicked me (literally) out of my home when I was 17. And I will need to see him on occasion, even though he and my mom are divorced, as he is the father of my two youngest beloved siblings. To add to this discomfort and contemplation, at my grandfather’s wake, he asked me to “get a cup of coffee sometime” when I’m next in town. My gut is still resistant to this contact, and recently two dear friends have offered an interesting, great suggestion of asking him why he’d like to get together. I still don’t feel safe with him but can tell you now I’d protect myself in ways I couldn’t when I was a child, even in choosing not to see him or be in contact. The following is an excerpt from my recent writing about this man.

I remember having several moments in my childhood where I felt in my gut that John was wrong. When he insisted I read a Hitler-esque dog-training manual when I was in grade school and instructed me to hurl a ball of heavy link chain at our golden retriever or hit her under her muzzle with my fist if she misbehaved, I could never do these things.

As I learned in school the dangers of drunk driving and was encouraged to speak honestly and from a place of feelings, I stood outside our station wagon at the end of one Christmas night in the freezing Wisconsin winter cold, refusing to get in the car—he was drunk. Eventually, after praying a family member would come out of the house and stop him from driving or that my mom would insist on driving, I was physically forced into the car eventually by my step-father and coaxed by my mother’s words to get into the vehicle, where my three younger siblings were already seat-belted and sleepy. I knew getting into the car was wrong, and I was terrified—and counting—each time we crossed the middle, yellow, solid road lines—again.

Fear was a daily feeling in our home, as I recall a kitchen cabinet door could unexpectedly slam my head, followed by a smile and insincere “oops” or “you’re in my way,” among countless other frequent acts of abuse. Fast-forward to the height of it all: A night of experiencing physical and verbal violence, ending with being—literally—kicked out of my home, and I finished high school, living with my grandparents.

~Erika M. Schreck, “Write the Truth,”
writing about ex-step-father, January 2013

I’ve been thinking a lot about keeping myself safe with these recent and inevitable future encounters with my ex-step-father and how I’ve prioritized keeping kids safe because I need to do what I can to protect little ones when others aren’t doing so. In high school, while working at a grocery store as a cashier, I called social services on a woman who proceeded to beat her child in my check-out line and had three customers looking on in horror. But no one did or said anything. She wrote a check, which I took as Divine Intervention to do something, even inwardly feeling I may receive reprimand somehow with my job. I was 15 and unable to do much about my own abuse at home, and my act was honestly liberating; this woman did, in fact, have a record of being reviewed for her parenting, I was told. In my undergraduate college years, I volunteered at a family violence shelter for women and children, offering child care while their mothers attended a weekly supportive, therapeutic group.

I realize that laws, uncertainty, fear and a continuing list of reasons stop us from saying something to a parent berating a child publicly or using physical force, and often abuse is hidden in the home. It may not always be clear when we “should” or have a right to intervene if we sense or witness ill treatment of a child. We often know in our gut, though; even the waiter in the earlier story I shared noted, “my personal feelings took over.” My childhood abuse honestly feels like another life, and I see no other path but honesty, with the intention of helping and inspiring others; I’m not crying as I write this and have been grateful for many years of therapy and growing self-awareness and healthy life choices. I truly don’t want any sympathy but more so growing commitment to keeping our kids safe from violent hands and harmful, wrecking words and neglect. Again, I urge us all to not ignore when we “just know” or “really feel” something is not right when we see a child unsafe, and our action or words may involve professional services that can help support us in a myriad of ways. Let safety rule.

On a bit of a lighter, makes-me-smile-now note: Last fall, while nannying for my sweet girls, the three-year-old was having a complete melt-down at the end of the driveway. Logistically, I needed to get her and her sister, already in the backyard, in the house and would not leave her alone or out of my sight. As this precious one continued to wail and shout with an outstretched, flat hand, “I NEED MY SPACE(!),” I lovingly said something like, “Sweetie, I am going to give you your space, but I want you to be SAFE. I won’t leave you alone or by yourself out here. I’m going to pick you up and bring you to the backyard, so we’re with your sister, and we’re all SAFE. I want you to be safe in your space, honey.”  So, I gently picked up this screaming child, still yelling, “I need my space (!),” through crocodile tears. As I placed her on the backyard deck and let her cry it out, I reminded her with so much sincerity, “Sweetie, I want you to always be SAFE in your SPACE. I love you so much.”  Anyone looking on may see this story as humorous in some ways or even concerned, but part of my point is to remind our kids that we need to prioritize the safe choices and distinguish what is safe and what is not. Even when I taught college-level writing, I’d tell my students before a weekend or break, “Be safe and have fun–I didn’t necessarily tell you to be good, but I did say be safe.”

I am so grateful for my power, age and awareness now and will continue to protect and stand up for kids who do not yet have these aspects in their favor.

© Erika M. Schreck and Turtle Healing Energy, 2013. All rights reserved.

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Local resources I’ve worked with on many levels and recommend here in the Boulder, Colorado, area, which offer great resources and support regarding safety, abuse and empowerment, include the following:

Courage is Change
Liz Oster, Founder
“It STOPS with Me”
“end the generational cycle of abuse and violence by empowering children, youth and adults to create non-violent communities through healthy relationship development“
Click here for Courage is Change website

I Am Subject
Diane DeBella, Founder
“offers opportunities for girls and women to experience growth and support”
Click here for I Am Subject website

Moving to End Sexual Assault (MESA)
“end suffering in our community caused by sexual assault”
Boulder, CO
Click here for MESA website

This past week was a beautiful but painful journey. I flew to Wisconsin to be with family and hopefully say good-bye to my dear 91-year-old grandfather and unexpectedly stayed about a week. After a delayed flight and little sleep, my mother and I arrived at my grandparents’, and Grandpa was unresponsive; he died that night, surrounded by several family members.

I was a lucky family member to have my hands on Grandpa as he took his last breaths. In all of my experiences with death and with deceased loved ones of my own and others, I have not witnessed the actual passing. Not long before Grandpa transitioned, when I first arrived that day and stepped into his room, I knew he was close to death, and the amazing, kind in-home hospice workers seemed to know. He lay there, eyes closed, breathing smoothly but with the help of oxygen, on a hospital bed in my grandmother’s room. I also could see that his mother, my great-grandmother whom I’d known for awhile before she passed in her 90s, was holding his hand in a comforting way in spirit.  Later that day, when Grandpa transitioned with several of us with him, I saw his mother and father holding his hands in a blinding-light, open space, along with several of his deceased siblings, friends and other relatives. That’s perhaps when I finally found I could cry—with sadness and joy.

Many of my family members have either not known of “what I do” (ex. seeing the deceased, offering professional intuitive and reiki services) or have been afraid of these things when I’ve shared in the past. But this trip held lovely shifts of all kinds. One of many gifts out of my week with family in Wisconsin is feeling relief with having shared what and whom I saw with Grandpa—and having their listening ears, acceptance and interest.

Another gift was a main message of the chaplain that my grandmother called that night; this amazing woman brought much comfort with her presence and faith, and she coordinated a brief intentional service around my grandfather’s body, once all of his children had arrived. As she began, she shared that she’d lost her own husband many years ago and that he lived by the following words: “Life is a gift—not a given.” Those words rang through me in a necessary way then and continue to add special meaning at this time. I know my grandpa respected this gift, and I’ve learned this lesson so many times, but these words deserve repeating and sharing as often as possible. I had more time this lifetime with my grandfather than my own father.

Our losses, our grief, are not easy elements to digest on this physical plane. We are so fortunate to receive opportunities that challenge and shape us into beings we would not be without them.

Rest in peace, dear “Gruntpa,” beloved “Sugar Ray.” He was 91—a long, wide life lived—and was married to my grandmother, a beautiful saint of a soul, for 64 years. While holidays can bring pangs of sadness for our loved ones no longer with us, actively remember and commemorate them in ways most meaningful. I know that this Christmas will hold many toasts ending with “Here’s lookin’ at ya,” just as Grandpa always said.

Stephen King

During our seasonal month of costumes, fear-filled movies and increased spookiness, I’m reminded of the many types of fears we all face, daily. Lately I’ve been especially noticing and considering the variance in reactions I receive when I mention my experiences with deceased loved ones.

I respect that people respond to death and stories of connecting to the deceased in their own ways, for good reasons. At times people don’t believe in the spiritual realm, some religious traditions warn of connecting with the Other Side,  often people associate fear with an encounter with spirits, and even more often people are curious and very interested in hearing about experiences with the deceased. I’ve been having experiences with deceased loved ones visiting me since I was quite young and felt it was pretty normal; as I grew in my spiritual knowledge and practices, I began to sense beings around other people, in certain spaces and homes, and connect with others’ deceased loved ones in my reiki sessions and card readings, and also found that messages and other elements I shared were helpful and healing. You can read my blog post from earlier this year, which talks more about mediumship, “Taking the ‘Me’ out of Mediumship,” here.

Suppose you speak with a neighbor who tells you that she has weekly discussions with her deceased mother. Or you talk with a close friend whose daughter was killed, and she says that her child returns to her frequently in the form of a butterfly. You might wonder whether these people are deluding themselves, whether they are experiencing hallucinations, whether they are clinging to a relationship that they are unable to relinquish, or whether they are denying the reality of the death….  Clinicians have come to recognize the value of a continuing connection with the deceased.

~ Camille Wortman, PhD, “Communicating with the Deceased,”
PBS: This Emotional Life, Grief & Loss Blog

I “can’t not” (read need to) believe in “the Other Side”—a spiritual realm in which those who have died reside [there are more layers, but this definition is a working, starting one]. One of my more recent, powerful events: About six weeks ago, as I was closing programs and internet screens on my computer and readying for bed a bit after midnight, I suddenly felt and saw my long-term-ex-boyfriend’s father next to me. I knew that this man had been diagnosed with cancer earlier this year, but I had not been in regular contact with the family. When I saw Tom, I was taken by surprise and then heard his words, urging “Google my obituary.” Shaking off any notion that I had simply reached an overly tired, dream-time state, I indeed used Google with his name and obituary, and I found it; he’d died two days before. He continued with an apology to me, words for his wife and then a rather comical but understandable sign-off, and he was gone.

I was amped. My heart was racing, and I continually processed what just happened. The experience was so powerful in that moment, and no matter how many times my own deceased father had shown up or how many other deceased had communicated with me, my energy level soared, and I wasn’t able to settle down for bed until at least 3 a.m. that night. I took a moment to e-mail this man’s wife, to let her know that her husband had just visited me—however strange or not strange it sounded, and to express my sympathy and care. I saw this encounter as a gift, as well: I could send condolences and a plant to the funeral home, as services were during the next two days. Tom had visited in a timely manner, as far as I could tell. I’m also grateful that I could actually explain my fatigue to a dear friend the next morning, announcing something like “So, yeah, I didn’t exactly sleep much last night, especially since my long-time ex’s deceased father showed up.” Said friend understands, and I have a few friends and family members with whom I can naturally share these kinds of happenings.

My intention is not to scare or push beliefs onto anyone; instead, I share my role as a witness to the deceased and their connections. I also emphasize with anyone concerned about seeing, hearing or sensing spirits that we are powerful and can ask any spirit to leave at any time. I also advise those with whom I’m conversing that we only welcome beings of the Light. One of the most common questions I get when I open up about my stories with the deceased is “Aren’t you scared?”  Honestly, no. It’s similar to experiencing curiosity when a stranger or even someone familiar approaches you in public with unique, intriguing, she/he-couldn’t-have-known-that information and needs to tell you. At times I’ve been surprised when a spirit has woken me up in the middle of the night, appeared next to me unexpectedly (like Tom), or shown up in a reiki session, but I’m not scared. I’m learning and partly assuming that the scary aspect of a deceased loved one trying to communicate seems present for many people because of an inherent fear of death, uncertainty of the details of what happens after we die, and the belief that something unpleasant will happen during or after the encounter.

There is a body of research about the continuing presence of deceased loved ones, termed After Death Communication (ADC). The consensus of the literature is that the different forms of communication and contact are profoundly comforting and reassuring to the bereaved.

ADCs include intuiting the presence of the deceased, awareness of a touch, smelling a scent, hearing a voice, having a vivid dream, and/or seeing the deceased. It is estimated that over fifty million people have had such an experience, but many are hesitant to share these reconnections for fear of judgment and misunderstanding. Statistics can be a powerful source of confirmation, but individuals who have experienced the dream that is beyond vivid, or have heard the comfort of words from their deceased loved are convinced that their experience was real and not a hallucination. The sense of peace and comfort from these spontaneous connections happen at any time during or after death, and have been reported immediately or years after a death.

The more we openly discuss and share these experiences, the more we will come to accept the extraordinary as ordinary and normal. As with the subject of death, when we bring it out of the closet and into the light, we remove the stigma, myths, and fears surrounding the subject. We open ourselves to lessons that enhance our ability to live in the world.

~ Lani Leary, “Death is Not a Dial Tone,” No One Has to Be Alone

I wish we’d talk about these kinds of experiences more. I love hearing the details and seeing the joy and relief in people’s faces when they share their stories of how a deceased loved one reached out or how they received information from the spiritual realm. Sometimes there are tears. Most accounts reveal gratitude and awe.

My intention with any of my intuitive and spiritual work is always kept in my and others’ highest good; I work in a protected, clean, well-intentioned, light-filled manner. Any time you’re choosing to acknowledge or communicate with those on the Other Side, if your intention is pure, and you are acting with respect and in the highest good for yourself and others, the main fears you’re probably facing are the unknown and our mortality. The beautiful gifts in having experiences with our deceased loved ones (whether initiated by us or the deceased) include knowing that physical death doesn’t need to end relationships completely, receiving more information and clarity, and feeling greater peace and love. I know that everyone will still not be comfortable with the idea of reaching out to or believing in contact with deceased loved ones, and that’s fine. Again, I’m not here to push. My big hope is that more people can be open to the possibilities of connection to loved ones in spirit and have less, if any, fear with these kinds of connections.

We are Spiritual beings having a human experience. Each of us has the ability to connect “home” to the Other Side. Your belief system can help or hinder this process. Opening your heart and mind will allow Infinite Universal Love and Wisdom to flow freely within.

~ Center for Mediumship

 

© Erika M. Schreck and Turtle Healing Energy, 2012. All rights reserved.

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Life can get wildly distorted at times, and it’s so easy to jump to despairing and freaking out. Once we calm, we get clear. Once we get clear, we can see our circumstances with greater perspective and available choices. We’re human, we get emotional, we react… but I’m learning that the more we stay calm, the more we create space for hope, optimism and necessary action.

In the last couple of weeks, my laundry list of challenges grew, including but not limited to news of three deaths among family and friends, (more) car dysfunction, an alarmingly waning bank account (code red), my oven element blowing like Fourth of July sparklers and computer technical difficulties. In the midst of it all, my overwhelm grew, as well as a pool of great peace and surrender.

I found myself slowing my breath and insisting on being present—a lot. I felt like I’d been in these snowball times before, but I wanted to do it differently and sincerely apply all of the spiritual tools and practices I’d been gathering. So, I kept breathing and noticed the welling panic as fear too often showed up. Finally, I began kicking my own butt and getting more aligned with my path: changed my thoughts to reflect the Law of Attraction (“thoughts become things”), seriously told Fear and any other obstacles to be gone, took some needed steps to manifest and rally for what I needed, and totally fell on my knees to Trust.

And then… shifts happened, miracles occurred, blessings abounded. While I’m in a much better place right now, I’m more so in a place of gratitude and awe, ever reminded that manifestation works. We need to ask and be specific. Stay calm also keeps echoing in my head, and I try to just remain calm and here, in this moment, and get back into alignment, choosing my joy. Because that’s where the magic happens.

“And if there’s anything to take away from this tragedy it’s the reminder that life is very fragile. Our time here is limited and it is precious. And what matters at the end of the day is not the small things, it’s not the trivial things, which so often consume us and our daily lives. Ultimately, it’s how we choose to treat one another and how we love one another…. It’s what we do on a daily basis to give our lives meaning and to give our lives purpose. That’s what matters. At the end of the day, what we’ll remember will be those we loved and what we did for others. That’s why we’re here.”

~ President Obama, 20 July 2012
    excerpt from Obama’s speech reflecting on  the
Aurora, CO, Century Theater shooting

Interestingly, I thought I’d be writing a Friday (July 20) blog post, inspired by the documentary I Am (from writer and director Tom Shadyac, who survived a life-altering cycling accident), which I watched just before bed the night before waking to such devastating news of “12 known dead and 58 wounded” from the movie theater’s horrific event in Aurora, Colorado, 40 minutes east of my home. More interestingly, the theme of said film is about “what is wrong with our world, and what can we do about it?” But this contemplative documentary also highlights what is great about our world.

“Ironically, in the process of trying to figure out what’s wrong with the world, Shadyac discovered there’s more right than he ever imagined.  He learned that the heart, not the brain, may be man’s primary organ of intelligence, and that human consciousness and emotions can actually affect the physical world…. And, as Shadyac’s own story illustrates, money is not a pathway to happiness.  In fact, he even learns that in some native cultures, gross materialism is equated with insanity.

“Shadyac also discovers that, contrary to conventional thinking, cooperation and not competition, may be nature’s most fundamental operating principle.   Thus, I AM shows consensus decision-making is the norm amongst many species, from insects and birds to deer and primates.  The film further discovers that humans actually function better and remain healthier when expressing positive emotions, such as love, care, compassion, and gratitude, versus their negative counterparts, anxiety, frustration, anger and fear.”

~ I Am official documentary website, “The Film” 

Yesterday was shaped by realizing what had happened, feeling that sick feeling in my stomach as I tried to even imagine what it must have been like to be so vulnerable and surprised with such an awful attack while doing something so ordinary, something so typically and seemingly safe.  I continued envisioning the wounded and deceased, as well as their family and friends, surrounded in so much love and light. I noticed my own last-minute fear as I met a friend for a movie we’d planned some time ago that evening; when I heard a door shut more loudly during our film, I was triggered to imagine the awful events that had transpired in a nearby city just 16 hours before the start of my movie, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.

Yes, Thought-Provoking, Thought-Shifting Experience #3 in about 24 hours: The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. Even with a rather simple, at times predictable story line, this worthwhile, enjoyable movie promotes the idea that we can change our lives, fulfill dreams and find joy at any time, any age; the reality that life will continue to change and that we have the choice to shift and thrive or resist change miss out; and the reward of kind, compassionate, simple, open-minded, passion-led living.

Pulling these three experiences—the documentary I Am, the Aurora Century Theater shooting and Obama’s reflective speech, and film The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel—together, I’m mainly left with the message that we are again reminded about the importance of living for as few regrets as possible. Saying what we need to say, even if difficult, to loved ones. Remembering what’s important, things like kindness, compassion, respect and love. Letting go of patterns or people not serving our highest good and needs and creating space for the better and brighter. Knowing that we are mortal and living as much as we can, on a daily basis, in a way that reflects our values and beliefs. Knowing and not forgetting “at the end of the day, what we’ll remember will be those we loved and what we did for others” (Obama). I’ve been to enough funerals to witness that these are the elements people mention when people pass away. Whom do we love? How do we show it? How are we kind? That’s what it’s all about.

We know these ideas, these life-guiding, wise principles that seem to surface when we have a death or a tragedy. Inevitably, after awhile, we’ll go back to our lives and get lost in the trivial and perhaps forget these reminders. Rest assured, the Universe will continue sending proof of our fragility, so how long can we preserve these recently revived thoughts and ways? Anything we practice long enough becomes a pattern; it’s worthwhile considering what we do and how we think on a daily basis.

Candlelight vigil for Aurora, CO,
Century Theater Shooting

*** *** *** ***
Blessings, Love and Light to all those lost, injured and present at the Century Theater in Aurora, Colorado, in the senseless tragedy on July 20, 2012, and to their loved ones.

© Erika M. Schreck, All Rights Reserved, 2012

A little more than a week ago, as I walked ever-so-carefully in a slight heel on an uneven sidewalk, carrying my tarot cards and crystals and other materials for intuitive card readings I was scheduled to do at an event, I fell. I couldn’t even tell you how exactly it happened, as I was being so careful, but there I was, knees dug into the cement, the contents of my basket spread out on the sidewalk, and stinging, heavy pain in my knees, which now gleamed with blood and snugly held some sand and gravel. Stunned, I collected my spilled items, stood up with new pain and kept walking to my appointment.

What just happened? Why? I looked down to see little-kid-scraped-knees. I felt vulnerable. With the-show-must-go-on attitude, I didn’t mention what happened to anyone at the event, cleaned up in the bathroom and continued with more than three hours of card readings, de-prioritizing the stinging and weeping of hurt knees that would later get the peroxide, salve and bandage treatment.

One of the neat aspects I enjoy with my reiki work is helping clients understand why certain pain or injury may occur in certain areas of the body. With deeper understanding, we are able to better heal our ailments and respond differently. While I tune in to intuitive messages about why discomfort exists, I also rely on universal symbolism for symptoms in the body.  For example, when I pick up tightness or strain in the hips, usually there is some resistance to moving forward, feelings of being stuck or feeling an inability to move forward in some area of life. Additionally, I find that we hold a lot of fear in our lower backs, especially when we’re worried about money or other forms of order or structure in our lives. Pain in our knees can often mean fear of the future or our or others’ mortality, or realizing where we need to take steps to advance, among other meanings. In addition to these insights, I will always ask for the message inherent in the client’s body, just as I encourage all of us to ask our own bodies for our unique messages and then trust what we hear, sense, know, see.

If the body could speak, what would it say?

The body reflects our thoughts, emotions and spirit — my hands have intuitively felt this for as long as I have practiced massage and acupressure. A stiff shoulder carries the weight of the world, a locked jaw holds unspoken words, an injured disk reflects a lack of support.

Could this body language be revealing the subconscious mind, and could it possibly hold a key to the healing process itself?

~ Surja Jessup, Alchemy Institute of Hypnosis

We can blame age, and perhaps we’ve had an accident or injury that explains pain in our body. Even given these legit sources of pain, I believe in also listening more deeply and intuitively—and symbolically. One of my print sources for reference in healing and listening to our bodies is Ted Andrews’ text The Healer’s Manual (2006), which offers some neat perspective on healing our bodies, as well as several tools for healing our physical, spiritual and emotional selves. Sometimes we’re just not getting the lessons, so our bodies seem to amplify what we really need to know—and may even make things hurt or ache or sting or whatever, in order to get our attention.

It has taken me a while to learn to listen to my body….  What I’ve learned, FINALLY, is that when I over do it with running I get injured.

~ Rick Kraics, “Turning 35. Listening to my body,” Run Faster Dad blog

We can learn so much by tuning in to our bodies and intuition, and we can increase our clarity and recovery time by receiving healing bodywork like reiki. Intuitively and energetically responding to long-time pain in our body can lead to amazing, positive shifts.

When I consider my recent fall and knee scrapes, I take notice. I first realized that the Universe is trying to get my attention, given the sudden, unexpected nature of what happened. The instant messages seemed to be about slowing down, paying attention to (and moving forward with) passions in my life that need more of my energy, and noticing my flexibility (or inflexibility) with certain aspects. There’s more I discovered, but my point is that I asked—I asked my body and listened, I researched, I’ve received reiki, and I’m making some adjustments. And I’m healing.

_East of Eden_, John Steinbeck

“The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if ‘Thou mayest’—it is also true that ‘Thou mayest not.’ Don’t you see?”

…

“It is easy out of laziness, out of weakness, to throw oneself into the lap of deity, saying, ‘I couldn’t help it; the way was set.’ But think of the glory of the choice! That makes a man a man. A cat has no choice, a bee must make honey.”

…

“And I feel that a man is a very important thing—maybe more important than a star. This is not theology. I have no bent toward gods. But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed— because ‘Thou mayest.’”

~ spoken by Lee (character),  John Steinbeck, East of Eden
   [boldface added by Erika M. Schreck]

One of my favorite books is John Steinbeck’s East of Eden. I’ve read it at least three times so far in my lifetime and have learned never to lend this book, as I’ve lost at least two copies to borrowers. Near the end of this classic read, the discussion in this text of timshel, a Hebrew term sometimes translated as “thou mayest” [I need to note that outside of Steinbeck's beautiful work, there are varying opinions and translations] has always moved me and has more recently been on my mind, and, in a recent reiki session, this beautiful word appeared as a message for my client, as well.

Where we come from—our places, our childhoods, our parents, some difficult life circumstances—undeniably shapes us but need not define us. I say these words with a sigh and very carefully. Recently, I realized some more unhealthy patterns that I reignited and can trace these tendencies to deep trails, learned patterns, in my lineage. I’ve also noticed in some tough conversations with some of my family and friends who are in depressed states that they feel stuck, that life will just keep dumping on them, that there’s not a way to improve circumstances. I’m reminded that at any time—literally, any friggin’ time—we can do things differently. But it comes down to choice; we do always have choices, even when the options don’t seem great at the time.

I’m guilty of getting stuck, too. When I realize that I’m venting about the way certain people have treated me, in recent years I’m keener on owning the fact that I have a choice. I may choose to limit communication or time with a person. I may choose to say no. I may even choose to do nothing and continue to witness a similar, irritating pattern. Free will. Choices. What are we really destined for, if we’re not making choices for our highest good? Our paths light up and seem to show us the way when we choose patterns and people who align with our being, but we are taking the steps and determining the direction (even if influenced, guided).

After I settled my father’s estate and realized that death teaches the living great lessons, I just knew I had to make starkly different decisions, which led to my leaving my entire family and a good network of friends and moving on my own to Colorado 10 years ago, driving a 15-foot moving truck and towing my car on a trailer. For me, I needed a whole new context, some isolation, a life shake-up, getting-out-of-my-comfort-zone to see the vast options for my life. I’ve done a lot of growing and discovered a healthier, happier self. While we may not always need something as huge as a state-to-state move to help us see things differently and recognize that life can actually look and feel more open, perhaps healthier, sometimes we need a nudge from somewhere (perhaps even from ourselves) to better examine our options, especially if we’re stuck. It’s important to remember we’re not alone; we gain perspective from others, even if we don’t agree.

“If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.”
~Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching (The Book of the Way)

Choices can seem overwhelming but can be amazingly freeing. Revel in the possibilities.

I’ll close with a video from the musical talents Mumford and Sons, who actually wrote a song with the title “Timshel,” inspired by Steinbeck’s East of Eden and the discussion of the book’s main characters. Just click on the link below for “Timshel,” Mumford and Sons.

“Timshel,” Mumford and Sons

© 2012 Erika M. Schreck. All rights reserved.