I Am A Healer

I have been spending a lot of time lately wondering what I would do next in order to bring money into the house.  I firmly believe that one can spend their life doing the things that matter most to them, earn a living and not have to compromise at a job they dislike or don't really care about.  So, I started to ask myself, and Spirit, what it is that I am meant to do.  "What is it, Great Spirit, Divine Mother/Father God, that I am meant to do in this lifetime?"  And then, I waited, impatiently, for the voice of Spirit to tell me what to do.

Spirit speaks to me in many ways:  Dreams, other people, animals, signs, symbols, song lyrics, etc.  It  also speaks to my, quite literally, in my ear.  I often find it difficult to discern the difference between the voice of Spirit and the other little voices in my head. (You know those voices, right? They are usually saying something about something you should do, shouldn't do, did wrong, forgot to do, etc.) Then,  I remember that Spirit doesn't speak to me like that.

I need to be in charge of the way my guidance comes through; there is no one who can tell me how to hear my own Higher Self.   I remembered this a few nights ago and told my Higher Self that it needs to speak to me in a way that will not scare me, is loving, and is authoritative in a kind manner.  It graciously complied, very quickly.  Later that night, I woke up at about 3:00 a.m. with my arm itching like crazy and my hand moving over the top of my husband's head.  Then I had this little spontaneous conversation in my mind:

Me: Why am I doing this in my sleep?

Higher Self: What is the one thing that you just can't stop doing?

Me: Healing 

HS: What do you think a "calling" is?

Me: The one thing you just can't not do.

HS: What is the thing you just can't not do?

Me:  Healing

HS: Do you love to do it?

Me: Um. I think so. Mostly.

HS: When do you love to do it?

Me: When I am feeling connected to Spirit, to the flow of Divine energy and to the receiver of the healing.

HS: When don't you love to do it?

Me: When I feel like I "have to" do it.  When I am just giving and not receiving anything in return. When I am just expected to do it. When what I do is not acknowledged or accepted or appreciated.

HS: Can you turn it off?

Me: Probably.

HS: Do you want to turn it off?

Me: No.

HS: Is this your calling?

Me: Um, based on the rest of this conversation, I think so.  

HS: Are you a healer?

Me: Yes.

HS: This is your calling

So, I have a calling.  I am called to be a healer.  I didn't take training to be a healer, I didn't ever think "Hey, I want to be a healer".  I didn't  seek it out, it sought me out.  (That's another, really long story, but seek me out, it did.)  What I did do is to say yes.  And when I said yes, that energy came sweeping through me like some kind of Divine freight train.  My larger mind, that part of self that knows I am connected to the Divine Source, opened up and received this energy.  My little mind, the one that gets scared, that wants to ask questions and understand everything in advance, says "But, do I 'have' to do this?"  Well, kinda.  I mean, I am waking up in the middle of the night finding my hands waving around in the air seeking that energy that wishes to be moved.    That little mind is afraid and the bigger aspect of mind just "knows".

Healing is that one thing that I would be willing to do for free.  And I have.  Plenty.  I haven't quite come out of the closet into the "Big World" and said "I am a healer" yet.  That's what this is, right here.  I am coming out, owning it and saying it's the truth.  When I "own" something, the energy to support me moves right in and makes itself at home.  So, I have learned to be careful about what I claim as mine.  But, lately, I have been asking what I am going to do for income and working through the whole idea of money as an energy exchange for spiritual healing work.  While I haven't had formal training as a healer, per se, I have spent the last 27 years of my life studying spirituality, psychology, coaching, counseling and ministry. I could present a pretty impressive (and weird) resume.  But, it won't qualify me for any office job.   I could, however, give you the names of some people (and one horse) that I have healed.  But, my resume as a healer would look like this:  Training:  The Source Itself.

I have a calling.  I have a calling to heal and to help people wake up.  That's why I am here.  I am here to bring people together in community. I am here to learn and to teach. The good news is that I am actually living my soul purpose.  The trick now is to monetize it so that I can pay the mortgage and other earthly things and enjoy financial freedom.  That is a little hard to write.  But, of course, everyone needs to earn a living.  I would like to be paid to do my soul's work.  Since it is my "calling", it is that thing that I can't not do.  It is also that thing I do, even if I am not paid for it.

But, we don't live in a world where we trade healing for chickens or trade chickens for housing.  We trade money for healing and we trade money for housing and we trade money for food, travel.  So, here I am, stepping out into the world saying "I am a healer. Bring it Universe.  But, please, be gentle."

I hope you will start following this blog as I begin to share this process of awakening I have been in over the years.  It's been pretty trippy.  It will make some cool stories.

There's Something Smelly in Paradise

Today marks one week since we moved into our new home in Paradise, CA.  I am sitting on my bed, looking out the window where all I can see are trees. And I am grateful.  It was only 4 months ago when my husband and I made the decision to sell our home in the San Francisco Bay Area and move to this mountain town.  We had contemplated the idea of a big move for many years but we couldn't bring ourselves to make that leap.  Until now.

I grew up in the Bay Area and never lived more than 25 miles from the same place since I was 4 years old.  The same goes for my husband.  Big change is hard.  We found this property, with 3 dwellings on it, which could serve as a sort of family compound now and, later, the retreat property I have always dreamed of.  I wish I could say that we are "settling in", but that is not really true.  What we are doing is trying to make it livable.  For this city gal, who doesn't like to get dirty, this fixer upper property is a challenge.  I find myself wishing (often) that we could hire out a lot of this work and just have it done already.

My husband is a big DIY guy.  Thank God!  In fact, the endless number of projects this property presented was probably the biggest reason he agreed to the move.  HE LOVES THIS ISH.  Me? Yeah, not so much.  LORI DOESN'T LIKE TO GET DIRTY.  It is not the dirt, per se, that is bothering me; I think I can get used to getting dirty.  It is the evidence of the other humans and other creatures who have lived here and whose evidence still remains.  Specifically, both the main house and the mobile home on the property reek of animal urine.  I don't know how many times I have wondered over the last week exactly how anyone could live like that.  I swear that mobile home doesn't seem as if it has ever been cleaned.  EVER.  I feel like taping a clorox cleaning wipe to my nose every time I walk into the building.  The mobile is much worse than the main house so we began the hard work there.

It's getting better every day.  So far, we have pulled out all of the carpet in the mobile and sprayed every inch of the linoleum with bleach.  It seems to be killing the odor.  All of the rooms have a coat of primer on the walls now and we will move onto applying the paint today.  I say "we" but I mean my husband.  He is in Handyman Heaven with his new deluxe edition paint sprayer. 

He doesn't like to tape before he paints, so he just doesn't.  He would rather go back later and scrape paint off of the windows with a razor blade than protect them in the first place. It drives me nuts. By the time he was finished yesterday, his clothes and shoes were ruined and his face and hair were covered in primer.  He looked like he was auditioning for the part of the Abominable Snowman in that Christmas cartoon I can't remember the name of right now.  It was pretty hilarious, especially since it was him and not me.

I had a break from the cleaning the stinky yesterday and spent most of the day unpacking boxes and looking for places to put things.  This house is much bigger than our last home but it is seriously lacking in closet space.  I walked around in circles a lot but I got it done. My intention is to get rid of whatever doesn't fit (eventually).  A barn sale in the Spring could be fun. 

 

As for today, I am planning to get the kitchen and bathroom cleaned in the mobile then get some of my stuff out of the house and into the barn.  For now, can someone bring me a hazmat suit?  I have some serious cleaning to do. xoxo ~Lori

Let's Talk About Abuse

I have a lot of things to say about a lot of things. Often, my mind is going a mile a minute with words about things that need to be talked about.  And they aren't. Because it's uncomfortable, because someone might get mad. There are so many secrets kept in the world, so many lies, so much left unsaid.  People are afraid and people are getting hurt.  It's time to stop that.  What I am thinking about now is the bullying of women and children by men. Let's call it what it is:  abuse.

Your children are not your property or your accomplishment.  They are not here to make you feel loved or worthy.  If you come to parenting feeling that way, you damn well better figure it out and get it fixed or, guess what?  You will have children who feel unloved and unworthy. People who feel unloved and unworthy can tend to do stupid stuff; they might make bad decisions and get in trouble with the law.  They might hurt people. Often, the people they hurt the most are the ones they profess to love.   If you are the kind of father who was a bully in school and treated your girlfriends badly, you will likely be the same kind of husband and father.

If you yell at the mother of your children, call her names, scare her and basically bully her into doing whatever you want, whenever you want, you are an abuser.  If you smack your kids in anger, call them names and generally terrify them so that you can feel bigger and in control, you are abusing your children.  Plain and simple.  Guess what else?  You are teaching your children to be abusers as well.  If you treat their mother this way, you are abusing her.

The single most important thing you can do for your children is to treat their mother well.  They will learn how to treat women (and people in general).  They will internalize that love. They will learn respect from being taught respect.  (Newsflash:  Fear and respect are not the same thing!)  Your children grew inside the body of their mother; they were literally ONE for 9 months.  What you do to her, you do to them.

Have you ever been afraid?  I mean really afraid?  Like your life could now end afraid?  Did you have someone 2 to 4 times your size standing over the top of you?  Screaming at you? Maybe threatening to hit you or just screaming at you with such a look on their face that you thought they could completely lose control?  I am talking about terror.  And when that terror is perpetrated by one of the people who is supposed to love you more than anyone else in the world, your world is changed.  You are changed. 

If you are doing this to your children or girlfriend or spouse, you are abusing them.  You don't have to hit them to be abusive, but there is a really good chance that you will do that too. Some day.  Abuse is progressive and the more it is allowed and kept silent, the worse it gets.  Do you "just" throw things?  That is abuse.  Do you threaten?  Rant and rage?  That is abuse.  Do you want them to be afraid of you?  You are an abuser. 

The way I see it, you have very few choices here.  First, get help.  Fast.   There may or may not be any help for you.  I don't know.  I used to think that anyone could be helped if they wanted it badly enough.  Now, I am wondering if there are some people who have just gone on too long and had their brains so hard-wired to behave a certain way that it is hopeless.  Maybe you need to be struck by lightening or something.  If you have been raised this way yourself, get help before you become a father.

 All of those years of feeling helpless and worthless are liable to come rushing back to you when you have a child and think you "deserve" respect (read: fear).  If it's too late, as are the cases I am considering, maybe you should consider whether or not they would be better off without you in their lives at all.  Just a thought.  I don't think you should be hurt, I have never wished ill onto anyone in my life.  I don't want anything bad to happen to you.  Seriously, I have spent hours upon hours praying for you to get better.  But, your children, your girlfriend, your wife all deserve to feel loved and cared for.  And if they feel that they are in danger around you, then they should not be around you.


The number one human need is to feel safe in the world.  The number one person or people to provide this feeling of safety to a child is their parents.  Don't you get it?  If they are not safe with you, they may never ever feel safe in the world.  With anyone.  They will have to work at it, and figure it out and struggle and wonder what in the world is wrong with them.  Do I write as if I know whereof I speak?  I do. 

 I have spent my entire life being understanding of the bad behavior that I have not only been a recipient of but also a witness to.  I have made excuses for them:  "He had such a hard life.  Look at how bad he feels about himself.  It is so sad."  Yes.  Yes it is. I am a very compassionate and empathetic human being. But it has to stop somewhere.  It has to stop now.  We need to begin looking to the next 7 generations and not just the moment we are living in.  If there is abuse in a family, and you could look back in time, there is a very very good chance that the abuse goes back for generations. Look at it this way:  If you get help and you stop the cycle now, with your generation, you are literally saving thousands of people in the future from the same fate.  Have you ever looked at your family tree?  There are lots of people there.  I am not exaggerating.  Thousands.  If you are the victim and your children are victims, you can get out now and get help so that the cycle is not perpetuated. 

If you are a victim of abuse or are not sure if it's "really" abuse, here is a good resource to read a list of behaviors that are abusive.  What is abuse?  You may be unpleasantly surprised to find that you are, in fact, being abused or witnessing abuse.  If you are ready to get out, this site has some resources to help you.  Leaving Abuse.

If you are too scared, call me.  I will help you. I will do anything I can to help you.  But you have to want to change.  You have to want help.  If you are the victim, and you have children, please do it for them if you can't do it for yourself.  I love you.

How to Help a Grieving Friend

There were 3 deaths in my younger sister's extended family 2 days ago.  Their entire family is reeling from the loss. One was a young woman who I had met once and was my sister's in law and close friend.  She died tragically and I am very saddened by it.  I started reading about grief  and I read an article which made me think of my own experience of grief and loss when my young brother and, later, my nephew died.  Both suddenly. When my brother Scott died, my entire world was turned upside down. 

I was 8 1/2 months pregnant at the time.  My husband and I had just bought a house that same month and my beloved grandmother had died from cancer.  My brother and I were sort of on the outs when his accident happened which made the guilt unbearable.  Mostly, people just said "I'm so sorry" and left me alone.  Being alone at the time was it's own form of hell.  But, some of the things people said to me would drive me deeper into myself as a way of putting up a protective barrier to shield me from the platitudes that only made me feel worse.  The worst possible thing about grief is having to defend your feelings while going through it.

 I think the most painful thing I heard when my brother died was "He is in a better place." My response would be "WHAT? He is DEAD!" Whatever your religious beliefs are, it doesn't matter to someone who is in pain over the loss of their loved one. If they share your beliefs, a few years down the road, they might just get there. But they will most likely never ever be happy that their loved one is "in a better place" rather than right here with them. It made me angry and I wanted to shout at them all of the horrific details of his accident and death and ask them if they thought that was "better".  The images in my mind of my little brother (only one year younger but always my "little" brother) after his death, the thoughts of what he may have been going through during his accident.  They were unbearable.  No, he was not better off.

I also heard the "He is in a better place, at least he is not suffering" comment many times after my beloved nephew Jonathan died.   My 20 year old, handsome, lovable, adored, happy, healthy and strong nephew just died suddenly in his sleep.  He had not been living a miserable life of suffering!  He played water polo, he was on a rowing team, he volunteered at his church, he had hundreds of friends.  He was a college student, he had an identical twin brother, an adoring family.  No.  He was not in a "better place".  He had been quite happy, thank you.

At Jonathan's memorial service,  I even had one "friend" approach me at the memorial and ask me how I was doing.  I told her I was coping.  She said "No.  How are you really doing?"  Then she stared me down until I was brought to tears, my defenses were brought down and she said "There".  Then she walked away.  What was the point of that? It seemed cruel and  I didn't like her any more after that.
I think people want so badly to relieve the pain for others that they come up with oft repeated statements which only cause more pain. "At least he's not suffering".  Inside I was screaming!   "I AM SUFFERING, MY FAMILY IS SUFFERING. He loved life!" I would never say that out loud, I was too polite for that. But I would check that person off of my list of someone to go to when I was hurting.  The list of people I could go to dwindled down to strictly professionals; grief counselor and therapist.  Being in such a state of shock and grief, one is completely unable to gather enough thoughts to even know what they need.  In hindsight, here are a few things that could have been said to me that would have helped me to get my pain from the inside to the outside.


 -What was he like?  Tell me about him.
- What was your favorite thing about him?
-Would you like me to just sit here with you? I will just be here so you know you are not alone.
-Do you need someone to be with you at night? When you can't sleep?
-Are you feeling scared? Do you want to tell me about it?
-I love you.

When my brother died, if someone had asked me what I was afraid of, I would have said I was afraid that I would just spontaneously implode.  I wouldn't explode, that would involve letting it all out.  I would quietly implode. The shock and pain was just so great that I thought I wouldn't or couldn't ever survive it. That my mind was reeling so hard and all I could feel was afraid. Afraid of dying myself. Afraid of living in a world that didn't have him in it. Afraid of the guilt I felt over the things I did wrong, the ways I didn't help. The ways I thought I had failed him. The ways I tried to help him. So. Many. Things.

I would have said, "Yes, please. Come and sit next to me at night. I won't talk much but I can't sleep and I am so scared at night. Please, help me take care of my little newborn baby who I am so afraid will die too for some inexplicable reason. Please reassure me that my headache isn't a brain tumor and that my little baby probably won't die in her sleep. I am so sad and I can't handle it all. Please tell me I won't go crazy from it. And please, someone, anyone, tell me I will be ok. The grief counselor keeps saying she doesn't know. That scares me. Someone, please tell me that I will be ok.  And, please, someone tell me why I suddenly feel like a lost child.  My picture of my life is suddenly a mixed up jigsaw puzzle.  How can I ever put it back together again?"

I remember how I needed to tell the details over and over again. This is what happened, this is how I found out, this is what happened next. Over and over again. Until hearing my own voice saying it allowed the reality to seep into my consciousness a bit more and a bit more. Be willing to listen to the story. Again and again.   So, when your friend or family member has someone die, don't say "Yes, you told me that" but say "Tell me more, do you want to tell me what happened?" Help them to feel safe and cared for while their mind and body processes the unthinkable, unimaginable loss they are suddenly feeling.

Some people cannot handle the word death. There are many ways to express it but it is important to allow that person to tell  you how they want to say it.  I studied to be a grief counselor and we were urged to gently nudge the grieving person toward saying "death" or "died" instead of "lost" or "passed". I never did that because I thought it was unfair to force that onto someone. Some people don't want to use that word and it's their choice.  For me, I wanted, even needed to say "My brother died.  My nephew died".  Over and over again.  That was me and it was part of moving from my denial into my sadness.  I have never, not once, heard my mom say "When Scott died...".  Usually, she would say "When Scott left" or simply "When Scott..." and trail off there.  Why would I try to force her to use the word that is so painful to her that she avoids using it?  It's not mine to say.  Not mine to decide. 

You can't take away the pain but you can give permission to go through it and you can be a witness to it.  You can let them cry, scream and pound their fists.  You can listen to them as they release the pain of this loss.  You can get them tissues and water.  You can be silent and be strong when they cannot.  You can hear them say they don't want to go on and know that is a normal feeling.  You can honor their humanness as they let go of the one they love so much.  We will all surely experiences many losses in our lifetime as it is part of our humanness.  It is also part of that humanness to grieve.  To feel.  It's what makes us who we are. xoxo

Finding Paradise

During a meditation about 10 years ago, I had a vision of owning a retreat property in the mountains.  This property would have space for myself and my family to live, to work and to be in a place of beauty while we do our work and play in the world.  One day, I hope to be able to put into words the series of mystical and magical experiences that have lead to realizing that dream.  For now, I'd like to write about the process of getting there, letting go of our current lifestyle and growing the dream. 

I am a big believer in following my heart over my head and  listening to the whispers of Spirit as it guides me.  One of the ways I connect with Spirit is through song lyrics.  I began to "hear" lyrics of songs with the word "paradise" in them.  I knew it was related to our next home but I didn't know where that would be.  There is a Paradise Valley here in Morgan Hill so my husband and I drove around the area and pondered the options.  It is beautiful, to be sure, but with the price tags on homes being around the two million mark (with little land) we just didn't see how it would work.  We figured that we would need to win the lottery in order to make that happen.  Not that we weren't open to that idea, but it just didn't seem like a way to manifest your dreams by waiting to hit the lottery.

Then, I was reading some Facebook posts (which I do occasionally, hehe) and noticed that one of my friends lives in a place called Paradise, CA.  Bing bing bing, bells are ringing, lights are flashing...could this be the place Spirit was trying to show me?  I began to discuss it with my husband who was open to considering it but not quite "there" yet.  We waited a few weeks and decided to take a road trip to check it out.

Paradise, California is about 3.5 hours from where we live in the South San Francisco Bay area, yet it seems a world away.  It is bordered by a national forest and the main road runs between 2 canyons, one of which is nicknamed "Butte County's Mini Grand Canyon".  It is a magnificent display of nature and we fell in love at first sight with the landscape of the area.  I think I would have probably agreed to live in a hut next to the canyon at that point just to be near it.  The one property we viewed for sale was really too small in both land and dwelling yet I was ready to sign on the dotted line right away.  My husband, being a little less spontaneous and more focused on details suggested we might want to give it some more thought.

After our return home, we began to look at properties on the internet and found one that really intrigued us. It had nearly two acres of land and three dwellings. (My vision includes the possibility of owning the properties on either side in the future).   The first real estate agent that I contacted to show us the property responded thusly:  "You really don't want to see that property.  It's a weird round house. Also, it is not financeable so you would have to pay all cash. Let me find you something else."  Dude doesn't know me at all.  I responded with a simple "I like the weird round house" and decided to contact another agent.   I felt only slightly deflated because of the "cash only" status of the sale.  I had already made a Facebook post about the property and a good friend posted "Get ready for a surprise regarding how you will be paying for the property."  I was intrigued and I totally believe in miracles so I contacted the listing agent who immediately informed me that the owner was willing to finance the property.  Surprise received (though we are totally open to receiving more).

As we walked around the property taking in the huge yet overgrown garden, the green house, the gazebo, the little red cottage, the mobile home and the main house we began to realize that we were home.  I turned to the agent and said "The only way this could be more perfect is if it were already fixed up."  I realized later that this was not a true statement because my husband and I enjoy projects and are very good at making old things new again and making them our own. On a budget.  As we drove back home, I told my husband that once we said "Yes" to this, the Universe would come together to make it happen very quickly.  We agreed that it was time for us even though we knew our children would not be happy with the decision.  The final question, asked and answered was "If not now, when?"  The time was now.  We submitted an offer, it was accepted.  So here we go!