Guest Post by Author Dean K Miller: Whose Voice Do We Hear?

What is “automatic writing”? Can this technique be of any benefit to you?

Please welcome my friend and fellow author Dean K Miller. I will allow him to explain. (Following his post, Dean has a free, but limited-time offer you’ll want to be sure to take advantage of.)

Whose Voice Do We Hear?
by Dean K Miller

The ways authors find inspiration are as different as the individual authors themselves. Add to this mix the countless places writers find their words and stories and you can see why writing is such an individual (but not necessarily lonely) pursuit. But what if you heard a story being told to you, even if it didn’t seem to be in your own voice? Would you trust those words?

A couple years ago I was working with a technique called “automatic writing.” There are several definitions of automatic writing, but in general the practice allows one to channel your Higher Self or Spirit Guides through claircognizance and then transcribe that onto paper. (Here is one resource for automatic writing from Anna Sayce: http://annasayce.com/how-to-do-automatic-writing) After completing several sessions (always asking for protection before starting each one,) I found myself compelled to bring those words out to the real world. But how? The automatic writing was fragmented, seldom containing complete sentences or even entire thoughts. As one writes with this technique (without judgment or correction) the results appear as babbling, random words.

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Example of automatic writing session from Dean’s personal journal.

These unconscious ideas continually nagged my conscious brain to bring them to life. As I began to assemble my first book of essays, creative nonfiction, and poetry, I kept those writings in mind. Somewhere in the process I found the inspiration to work my automatic writing samples into a fictional tale. This allowed me to present the material in a manner that kept the most personal aspects and words private, but still permitted the collective positive vibes to be published. The Odyssey of a Monk was born.

The short story is about a young orphaned monk who leaves the Buddhist temple he was raised in, to venture out on his own. It was an exciting challenge to weave my automatic writing pieces into a fictional tale and its characters. First I needed to make coherent thoughts out of the bits and pieces I had written down. Weeding through each session’s pages, I found common themes and intertwined them. Next I created various elders (monks, a shaman and others) to present these words of wisdom to the young monk as he travels the countryside. As the young monk encounters the wise elders, each one offers advice and answers the monk’s questions via the passages from my writing sessions. The storyline flowed naturally from this process as each encountered gives the young monk the advice he needs at different points in his life.

Odyssey of a Monk Cover_Final

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Thanks Patricia for hosting me today and I hope your readers enjoy the free download of The Odyssey of a Monk, which is available for Kindle readers from Oct. 10 – 12. Here is the link for the Ebook: http://www.amazon.com/Odyssey-Monk-Dean-K-Miller-ebook/dp/B00O2A097I/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1412613430&sr=1-1&keywords=the+odyssey+of+a+monk

PAIDDean K Miller is an author and free lance writer who resides in Loveland, CO. His first book, And Then I Smiled: Reflections on a Life Not Yet Complete was released in February 2014 via Hot Chocolate Press. The short story The Odyssey of a Monk opened to Kindle readers on September 29, 2014. His first poetry collection, titled Echoes: Reflections Through Poetry and Verse is scheduled for release November 1, 2014, also via Hot Chocolate Press.

Dean works for the Federal Aviation Administration, logging more than 26 years as an air traffic controller. He listens to the voices, both at work and in the world around him, because one might tell him something worth writing down. Learn more at www.deankmiller.com

 

Relief Efforts for Cabo Victims of Hurricane Odile

Photo by Lynn Pierce. Used by permission.

“My book would not exist at all if it weren’t for Cabo and the people of Cabo, because that’s where the story all began,” says Patricia Walker, author of DANCE OF THE ELECTRIC HUMMINGBIRD.

 

There really hasn’t been much media attention to what happened down in Cabo recently. In fact, most people I talk to haven’t even heard about it. Hurricane Odile made a devastatingly direct hit in Cabo San Lucas, San Jose del Cabo, Todos Santos, La Paz and neighboring towns in Mexico on September 14, 2014.

Photo by Suset Esquivel Flores. Used by permission.

It affected people I know personally, and as of this writing, many still do not have electricity or water, nor can they return to their homes to determine if their homes are still standing.  The airport was severely damaged and remains closed, but according to local sources, it will be opening soon.

Cabo Arch

El Arco. Photo by Patricia Walker

When most of us think of Cabo San Lucas, it brings to mind the breath-taking, world-renowned arch or El Arco, extraordinary fishing, fancy hotels, vacations, beaches, sun and margaritas. And while those images do describe Cabo, it’s also true that there are some very poor people who live there. I have personally witnessed people living in cardboard shacks without plumbing.

Rich, poor or in-between, many lost everything they had. The wealthy can afford to rebuild, but I couldn’t just sit back and not do something to help the rest of these amazing people.

IMG_0136I have a bunch of books in my office right now, books I’ve purchased personally from my publisher, (yes, I have to buy my own books) so I’m donating the money from the sale of them to the people of Cabo, but my offer only applies to books purchased here, through my website because I have no control over Amazon.com or other outlets. In selling these books, it gives me the means to donate much more money than I could afford to donate on my own.

If you buy a book from my website, you’ll have to pay for shipping, but 100% of what you pay for the book will go to the people of Cabo. I will post which charity it’s going to so you’ll know exactly where your donations are going.

And, if nothing else, if I can help raise awareness of the devastation done to Baja California del Sur, perhaps more people will schedule their vacations there. The locals are working tirelessly to rebuild, and our vacation dollars are exactly what these people need right now to help them get back on their feet.

Cabo 10-2 & Fishing 008
Land’s End

Cabo will soon be back and better than ever, I have no doubt.

So please, even if you don’t feel moved to buy a book, please just do what you can. It all helps. (Obviously, it’s important to do your research before donating to any charity.)

And come experience the beauty and magic of Cabo San Lucas for yourself. Pictures don’t do it justice.

Thank you for your kind generosity.Dance of the Electric Hummingbird

To purchase Patricia’s book, please click here: http://www.bajarockpat.net/my-book/ordering-information/

Because I personally know most of the people involved, current donations are being made to: Wicked Pizza Employees/Family at http://www.gofundme.com/envqes

(Important: ONLY books purchased through bajarockpat.net are eligible for the hurricane donation fund. Offer does not apply to books purchased through other outlets.)

Exploring Uncharted Legions of the Mind

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View of the grounds at TMI in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia

How brave are you really? Would you dare to enter the uncharted legions and depths of your mind?

I did. Repeatedly. I’ve always been interested in how the human mind works; I should have been a psychologist. Through my personal studies, though, I’ve discovered that truly NOTHING is impossible. Whatever the mind can conceive, it can achieve–or–if you can imagine it, you can make it happen.

I just completed a six-day program at The Monroe Institute (TMI) in Virginia, called “Timeline”, which focuses on the exploration of past, present, and future lives and how they influence our current lives. Fascinating stuff.

This painting by Salvador Dali pretty much sums up the sort of things I’ve experienced during programs at TMI:

Salvador Dali

Wait–you don’t get it? No, no drugs are involved. Let me attempt to explain.

You spend most of your time in your CHEC unit (Controlled Holistic Environmental Chamber), which is more or less a bed that’s enclosed on all sides except for an opening, which allows you to crawl in and out. A heavy black drape covers the opening so that the entire unit is completely dark to minimize external sensory distractions and maximize internal focus. Through headphones, you listen to recorded exercises, which are similar to guided meditations with the incorporation of Hemi-Sync® binaural beats. (More about this later.)

CHEC Unit

CHEC Unit

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The founder, Robert Monroe’s home, where the “Timeline” program took place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What does it feel like to enter another dimension of consciousness?

(Please keep in mind that these are my personal experiences—those of others may vary.)

After a series of mental steps to help you feel comfortable and safe during your “excursion,” you are then guided to different levels of consciousness which are referred to by number, i.e. C-1 represents full, waking consciousness, followed by F10, F12, F15, F21, F27 and so on. The “F” stands for “Focus Level.” F10, for instance, indicates the state of “mind awake/body asleep” and in F10, you feel as if you’re on the verge of falling asleep, but you can still feel your body lying on the bed and you’re fully aware that you’re in a room and what you’re doing there. In F12, (the state of expanded awareness) you begin to let go a bit more, and when I “arrive” in F12, I often “see” someone waiting for me there. Sometimes it’s someone I know in my current life, or sometimes it’s someone I’m familiar with but don’t know personally. It appears that these “people” always have a personal message for me, something I’ve been ignoring and need to address because they seem to get immediately in my face and are generally very insistent.

Often the images I encounter in the different levels of consciousness are symbolic or metaphors for something in my waking life and sometimes I know exactly what they mean; other times I never seem to figure them out. So far, the meaning of the images I encounter immediately upon my arrival in F12 are pretty easy to decipher, because it’s always a person (as opposed to an inanimate object, or a sound or a feeling) and he or she instantly moves toward me as if we’re opposite magnets.

Throughout any focus level, I am always in complete control of what I’m experiencing, and I have the ability to end the session or ask for clarification on anything at any time I choose. This is extremely important, because before my initial sessions at TMI, I was afraid that I would somehow relinquish control of my mind. But this is NOT the case. Ever. I always have control, but sometimes I have to remind myself of that fact! Just like in my everyday life.

galaxy-379213_640 Most of the Timeline program took place in F15, the state of consciousness where time doesn’t exist. It is a very deep, meditative state and there’s a feeling of floating. During my first experiences in F15, I found it a bit difficult to breathe; it felt as if my “surroundings”, for lack of a better word, were thick and intense, as if I was floating in a substance as dense as ketchup. Once I became more familiar with it, though, I told myself to relax, told myself that I could breathe easily, and that knowledge allowed me to float effortlessly and allow experiences or realizations to come to me. It’s like having a dream, where you’re in the REM state and you’re not aware of your physical body.

What I’m attempting to relate is nearly impossible to describe in words, because I experienced a richness to my sessions, where my visuals were accompanied by feelings and the use of all (or most of) my senses, but in a much more heightened manner. My perception also varied from one session to the next. (Sometimes I would simply “click out” or fall asleep, and experience nothing! This isn’t uncommon.)

TMI logo photo by Baja Rock PatFor instance, I interacted with energies that were clearly not human, but whom seemed to know me and (often) love me unconditionally, and the words “alien” or “angel” or “spirit” or whatever familiar term one might attach to it, does not adequately describe what I thought, felt, saw, or heard. The terms alien, angel, or spirit are relative terms anyway–they mean something different to each of us. TMI refers to them as “other energies or other energy systems,” a more appropriate description, because these “individuals” weren’t made of flesh like you and me, but of vibration, or energy, or thought. And just because they weren’t in human form didn’t mean they were more intelligent or advanced than we are. Now isn’t that an interesting concept?

walnut half During several sessions, I received a “knowing” that where I had requested to go (you set an intention for each exercise) required me to leave my physical body behind, and I worked very hard to make this happen. (That was my first mistake–“working very hard.” I now know that by trying to force things, it only hindered me–again, just like life.) In F15, my body felt heavy and “crispy,” and like a walnut shell that’s cracked in half, if you scoop out the nut, the empty shell remains the same shape it was in before you removed the nut, so too, my body retained its shape, but it was as if the top part had been removed, and my “insides” were rather gelatinous and began to “slosh” back and forth horizontally from head to toe like when you shake a bowl of jello. This gelatinous part of me then began to vibrate as it attempted to float upward, but it never got “out” completely. It rose up about three or four inches, but something kept it attached to my crispy shell (body).

Many who have experienced the out-of-body state, describe a vibration feeling that happens just before they leave their bodies, but some describe leaving their bodies without that feeling. I think my focusing too much on trying to achieve the out-of-body state may have been the very thing that kept me tethered at times. And although during the entire 6-day program, I never got the feeling that I completely went out-of-body, I’m certain that it happened many times without my ever realizing it, because there were times I knew I was completely immersed in another dimension of consciousness without regard to how I got there (because “how I got there” wasn’t important at the time; I wasn’t focusing on that aspect). My body felt paralyzed, in a sense, but my mind went jaunting off into other “territories”.

In addition to being limited by words to describe such experiences, another challenge is that there is no empirical proof whether the things one has experienced are real or imagined; but perhaps a more important question is: “If I just imagined all this, why did I imagine this particular scene and not something else?” The mind is a powerful tool, and when you let go of trying to control your environment, and simply allow things to come to you, amazing things happen. This isn’t just true for TMI sessions, it is true for one’s everyday waking state as well.

meditation-389700_640 The Timeline program reinforced in me that I am much more than my physical body, and that “I” do not end with death. In several sessions, I actually experienced the dying process of my physical body in previous lifetimes, although I did not allow myself to feel the pain associated with it. I realize this sounds frightening, but I learned so very much from these exercises. What I experienced was a separation of spirit and body, a release similar to my being given an epidural during the births of my children, and the moment the drug took effect, the pain vanished instantly. The death experiences felt similar to that–the moment the spirit left the body, there was instant relief from pain, combined with a release from mental anguish as well. This was completely unexpected, and the “I” who was witnessing the whole scene, was surprised at the tremendous sense of relief and release.

In 2003, I had an out-of-body experience (OBE) in the middle of Sammy Hagar‘s concert, and that moment changed my life. While in the out-of-body state, I “saw” landscapes that were clearly not earth, and beings that were not human. Thousands of them. I wrote about this in Dance of the Electric Hummingbird. At the time, I assumed they were representations of alien worlds that exist beyond human comprehension. Now, after the things I experienced at TMI, I wonder if they were glimpses of previous lives that I had lived, or future lives, because there is a school of thought that considers that we may indeed, be living all of our lives simultaneously, similar to the space-time continuum theory in physics. With this theory in mind, some say that just as each of our cells makes up different parts of us, all these other lives are merely different aspects or parts of us–each being integral to the whole. And ultimately, just as these different aspects of us make up one whole that we think of as the “self”, we too, are all different aspects of what we call God–each of us connected to form one consciousness that is God.

I can certainly see now, how this could very well be possible.

I also saw that since “I” exist far beyond the constraints of my physical body and that since the boundaries of what I call “me” overlap and merge with other living and non-living beings, what I do to others (or to the earth), I also do to myself.

Too, it’s important for me to realize the blessing of existing here, right now, in this physical body, for there are aspects of spiritual growth that cannot be learned by any other means. Therefore, I shouldn’t squander my life fretting over “the small things,” because every moment is meant to be enjoyed with every fiber of my being.

wave-64170_640 I learned that if I look closely enough, and with the eyes of a child (Zen calls this “Beginner’s Mind”), I can actually see my entire essence—the very essence of life itself, in a drop of rain, the veins of a single leaf, in a freckle on a stranger’s face, the song of a cardinal, and in every being—living and non-living. All of these things are me and they, like me, since we are all fibers of God, are infinite. Time is merely an illusion; it’s something humans created to make sense of and feel in control of our environment.

At the risk of sounding presumptuous, I believe that my initial OBE during the rock concert, planted a kind of “seed” in my subconscious. This seed continues to grow the more I feed it spiritual wisdom, the sort of wisdom I uncover during TMI sessions, because these sessions put me in contact with—and enhance—dimensions of my mind (that are also in contact with higher levels of consciousness) that I previously never knew existed.

Bob Monroe's Cabin photo by Baja Rock Pat

Robert Monroe’s cabin, where he wrote most of his books on his many out-of-body experiences and the exploration of altered states of consciousness

Why is any of this important when there are people starving in the world and so many other important things one could be focusing on?

The exploration of the mind and its capabilities can give us insight into the reasons we behave the way we do, help us achieve personal goals, and give us tools to teach others, thereby healing the world by first healing ourselves. Visiting some of my other lives not only explained the roles certain people play in my current life, it also showed me how and why I adopted some of my limiting beliefs. Knowledge, then, is power—the power to change and to better myself. I shall continue to explore the power of my mind and spirit, for there is much to learn, and that, I believe, is the meaning of our lives—to grow and to experience emotion in its many forms–the greatest and most important of these–is love.

TMI by Baja Rock Pat

Giant crystal on the property

(To read about my first experience at TMI, please click here: Gateway to Altered States of Consciousness)

**TMI is dedicated to exploring human consciousness and peak human performance with the use of Hemi-Sync® audio technology, which uses the scientifically adapted method of binaural beats to induce the meditative state and bring both left and right hemispheres of the brain into balance. The balanced brain then, is much more capable of achieving things of which it may not have previously been capable, thereby providing a tool to help listeners achieve goals such as weight loss, quitting smoking, improved concentration, stress or pain relief, and many other areas of self-improvement. For more information, please visit http://www.monroeinstitute.org/resources/hemi-sync

I love you, Mom

daisies

I’m reading lots of wonderful posts online today, and looking at all the photos of people hugging their moms. And when I go to the store, there are countless of choices of floral bouquets and Mother’s Day cards.

I think that’s the toughest part—seeing all those cards.

I used to read every single one—searching for the perfect card to tell my mother how much she meant to me. She was my best friend. My healer, my confidant, the one who loved me unconditionally. I adored her. On her gravestone, I had them inscribe: “Our angel.”

My mother had the softest hands and the warmest hugs. Her smile could light up a room.

Mom taught me to believe in God and she taught me the importance of being a good person—to be honest and trustworthy—even when it’s not convenient or expected, even when no one is looking, and even when those around you are not behaving that way. She taught me that it’s the little things in life that matter most—like being with your family and your friends. She taught me to fish, to cook and to bake, to love animals, and the importance of getting down on the floor with your kids to color in coloring books, to toss the baseball in the backyard with your sons, or that you’re never too old to play Barbies with your daughter.

My mother taught me that hugs are to be given freely, and she taught me the importance of saying, “I love you” because you never know when you will see that person again. Maybe not until the next lifetime. I am forever grateful that the words “I love you” were the last words I spoke to her and she to me.

Is it mere coincidence that when I went to the Pixabay website just now, to find a picture of daisies (my mom’s favorite flower) to insert in this post, that before I even typed in what I wanted to search for–a picture of a daisy popped up?

I don’t believe in coincidences. I had the best mom in the universe.

Happy Mother’s Day in heaven, Momma. I miss you every single day.

The Stuff of Holidays: Magic, Tears and Blessings

Christmas tree with presents and fireplace with stockings --- Image by © Royalty-Free/CorbisI’ve already shed a few sentimental tears this past week—at my cousin’s photo of her kids brandishing candy canes and big grins, all bundled up and piled in the car as they get ready to go cut their annual family Christmas tree; at the silly Christmas program on TV yesterday when Santa Claus made his entrance ho ho ho’ing as he passed out candy to those in attendance; at songs like “A Mother’s Christmas Wish” by Olivia Newton John (and I don’t ordinarily even like her music) and “Believe” by Josh Groban; and at movies I will always treasure, no matter how corny they seem to anyone else: “The Homecoming,” “Prancer,” “Christmas Vacation,” the cartoon version of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” and the puppet versions of “The Little Drummer Boy” and “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.”

It’s funny, isn’t it? How a holiday can have such a profound effect on a person.

You see, Christmas has always been my favorite time of year—a time of joy: the intoxicating smells of evergreen, baking cookies, roast turkey, hot cocoa, a fire in the fireplace, stockings hung by the chimney with care (as my dad used to say), colored lights and sparkles everywhere, the anticipation of the looks on my kids’ faces on Christmas morning, and the way my heart overflows with joy when making others happy. I get caught up in the rush of it all, yes, the chaotic craziness, fights with my husband because try as I may (and I really DO try), I always end up spending too much, but I do it because I want to make that one special day perfect for my family. My mother used to do the same, and those are memories I will never forget. They are the stuff that made me believe, and never stop believing—that dreams really do come true, and that real love never dies.

The older I get, the more memories I now associate with Christmas, and although all of them used to be good, that is no longer the case. My precious father died unexpectedly just days before Christmas in 2005, followed by my mother in early 2006. In deep shock and inexplicable horror, we were forced to bury Dad on a snowy and cold Christmas Eve that year. It’s hard enough to enjoy the holidays after you’ve lost a loved-one, but even harder when you lose someone during what to me had always been the happiest season of all.

But, such is the price of getting older, I guess.

My tears during the holidays now come with mixed emotions—joy for the family I still have, and the grandchildren who now grace my home with the laughter, excitement, and innocence my own children used to exhibit—and a longing for those whom I once adored but are no longer here in the flesh.

Each year though, they send me signs that they are still with me in spirit, signs that my husband would say are mere coincidence—like how my husband’s computer turned on all by itself the other night—the screen suddenly bursting with a bright, blue photo of the ocean, desktop icons along one side. I got up to turn it off, but since it’s a version of Windows I’m unfamiliar with, I couldn’t figure out how, so I simply turned off the monitor. The next day when I told him about it, my husband said that that was impossible; the monitor wasn’t even connected to the computer; it couldn’t have turned itself on or displayed that photo.

But it did.

And, when getting out of the car two weeks ago, I clearly smelled the scent of my dad’s pipe. Impossible.

Not impossible. For me, Christmas prompts me to treasure the blessings I have—a roof over my head, food in my belly, and all the other material things I have, but most of all, Christmas is a time to remember that real love never dies, and to treasure those whom have blessed my life in so many ways.

Thank you for blessing my life. (Written with a tear in my eye and a lump in my throat.)

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Podcast of “Positive Perspectives” with Melinda Carver

According to talk show host Melinda Carver, at first, her listeners wondered how a spiritual awakening could take place during a rock concert. And who would blame them? I thought the same thing, even as it was happening to me! Hopefully all their questions were answered during our interview. Melinda was an outstanding host, asking questions such as, “How did you balance being a wife and mom with having such extraordinary experiences?” and “What was it like to be singing onstage with a famous rock star?” She also inquired about how I compared my journey to that of Paulo Coelho’s award-winning book, “The Alchemist.”

Melinda and I further discussed the role music and sound played in what happened to me, the implications of what experiences like mine could mean for others, and how my book has effected many of my readers. It was a great interview. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Thank you, Melinda!

Angels Among Us

Rain in Australian Rainforest

I get very attached to people. People are the most important things in my life. And when special people leave my life, it creates a hole where something wonderful used to be.

Yesterday, I said goodbye to a man who took care of me for more than 30 years, a man who enriched my life in ways I can never come close to repaying. He knew every inch of my body on an intimate level; he delivered my babies, performed surgeries on me, and became my primary care physician as well. And my friend.

At first glance, this post might seem silly, but 30 years is a long time, and to have someone you can trust, someone who made you feel like you mattered—is a precious thing. Especially in a world where a lot of doctors treat their patients as if they’re just a number. Or worse—a nuisance they’re forced to deal with so that they can buy that new Ferrari. Yes, I’ve had doctors like that.

A few weeks ago, I received a letter notifying me that Dr. H. was moving to another city. He had been my OB/GYN when I lived in Denver and after I moved to Northern Colorado 18 years ago, I continued to drive two hours each way just to go to him. And I never regretted it.

But now an important chapter in my life was coming to an end. You see, Dr. H. was not your ordinary doctor; he helped me through some very tough times in my life—from births to deaths to cancer-scares and everything in between. I couldn’t let someone like that just slip away without letting him know how much he meant to me, so I phoned his office to make an appointment. “All his patients want to see him one more time,” the receptionist informed me. “There’s nothing available, but you can send him a letter.”

My heart sank down into my shoes, into the floor, and into the earth beneath the floor. No, I need to see him, I thought. I need to look into his eyes and thank him, in person, for everything he did for me. Even if I can’t get an appointment, I’m going down there just to say goodbye.

I explained my situation to the receptionist and she squeezed me in.

In the meantime, I decided that I wanted to give Dr. H. something to let him know how much he meant to me. Thirty years is a long time. How did you thank someone for giving you the gift of good health? My husband would say, “You pay him LOTS of money; you don’t need to give him anything—he already has everything money can buy.”

But there are some things money can’t buy—like making a person feel that they’re important—that they matter, easing another person’s fears and assuring them that everything is going to be alright. How do you thank someone for that? How do you thank someone for really caring?

I decided to write Dr. H. a letter telling him how his compassion, kindness and expertise effected my life. Maybe someday he would look back on it and realize what a huge difference he made in the world–and not just in my life, but in the lives of thousands of others.

Through my tears, I remembered how he took care of me during my pregnancies—the last one in which, when I waddled in for my weekly checkup, well past my due date, hugely pregnant and miserable, and complaining, “Dr. H., has anyone ever died from terminal pregnancy?” He laughed and said, “Not that I know of!” “Well, I think I’m going to be the first, then,” I moaned. A few hours later, I went into labor.

I told him how much it meant to me that whenever I was giving birth, and in that cold and unfamiliar place—the hospital delivery room—surrounded by all that sterile equipment and tiled walls and being poked and prodded and examined by doctors and nurses in masks, and salespeople and janitors (just kidding about the salespeople and janitors, but it sure felt that way at the time) the moment I saw his kind and familiar eyes, my entire being relaxed because I knew that now everything would be just fine.

Close up of baby's foot in mother's handI told him that I had pictures of him from 27 years ago in the delivery room suctioning out my newborn son’s nose and mouth because he had swallowed a lot of amniotic fluid during his entrance into the world, and I truly think it was Dr. H.’s knowledge and quick thinking that day, that saved my son from what could have been severe complications.

And when I went to see him for a follow-up after my hysterectomy, he chuckled as he told me that during the surgery, I “woke up” and reminded him not once or twice, but numerous times, “Don’t forget to leave my ovaries in, Dr. H.!”

When I went to see him the year after my parents died, I told him how much it meant to me to see his familiar face again—it felt like it had been ages after all I’d been through—but his compassion in listening to what I had to say was like a light in the darkness that day and it gave me something I so desperately needed—hope and the strength to carry on.

And when I was terrified upon finding lumps in my breasts, he made sure that I got the best care available with the best surgeons and facilities in Denver and he stood by me every step of the way to calm my fears and keep me healthy.

I wrote that in his care, I always knew that everything would be alright. And it always was. And that, right there, is something undeniably rare and priceless.

I put the letter into my purse and went for my appointment.

It was weird, because when I got there, the waiting room was empty; usually the chairs were filled with women in various stages of pregnancy or juggling newborns in car seats, or elderly ladies waiting to see their doctors. Not today. I proceeded to sign in but the receptionist told me not to bother.

A strange feeling erupted in the pit of my stomach; I felt like I was in a place I shouldn’t be.

There were wooden carts in the hallways and behind the great reception desk filled with rows and rows of manila file folders covered with sheets, each folder representing one woman’s medical history—a sad reminder that someone who had been there a very long time was getting ready to leave—someone who was obviously very well-loved because there were a lot of carts with a lot of folders. I had to squeeze past them to get to the examining room.

When Dr. H. came in, his face was tanned and his shirt impeccably pressed. His once-dark hair was dyed a light brown, and he was sporting a grey goatee, which seemed an attempt to hide the sagging skin on his neck, but his brown eyes were as soft and kind as usual. He asked if I’d gotten his letter announcing his move. I said that I had and I fought back tears as I handed him my letter.

After the exam, we talked for a few minutes and shared some memories. Once again, his warm and gentle demeanor reassured me that even though he was moving away, everything would be just fine, and that if I still wanted to come see him, I was more than welcome. He handed me his business card and said that if I was in the area, to let him know, and that “If there is ever anything you need, you just call, ok?” Then he hugged me. I don’t think there is another human being on this planet who could have gotten away with hugging me while I was dressed in a paper drape like that!

When he walked out of the room, I could hear him talking into his little voice recorder as he always did—saying my name and noting the results of my check-up. But things were no longer going to be as they’d always been; this would be the last time he would speak into his recorder about me.

I got dressed and walked out into the hallway. Dr. H. was waiting there for me and he gave me another hug. My heart felt like it was dissolving into liquid—tears. Then he went in to see his next patient.

This was not a physical or romantic-type of relationship I had with my doctor; it was personal on a different level–and based on respect and unwavering trust for a professional who continuously went above and beyond stipulated job duties to make me feel like I mattered. I am a better person for having known him.

He once told me about the time he accidentally killed a fish in a lake with a bright orange, Pinnacle golf ball when he was golfing and that someday he was going to buy himself a Harley. And last year, I gave him a copy of my book because he said he was interested in reading it… Thirty years is a long time…

 

Ode to My Dad

Snow Geese in Flight at Sunset

One life touches so many others: my Dad loved
his country
John Wayne and Jim Beam
my mom
carving waterfowl out of wood
camping
antelope hunting
goose hunting
elk hunting
fishing
telling stories and corny jokes,
restoring antique automobiles
taking home videos
baked macaroni and cheese topped with bread crumbs
German chocolate cake
smoking his pipe
watching wild birds
John Denver
WWII movies
God
his family
his church
cookies
Lay’s potato chips
his Ford F250 pickup truck, midnight blue
backpacking in the mountains
Dickies pants
Frank Sinatra
Patsy Kline
Johnny Cash
The Denver Broncos
Jerry Clower
old-time musicals like “South Pacific,” “Oklahoma,” “The Music Man,” and                   “The Carousel”
Chet Atkins, Hank Williams, Sr. and Waylon Jennings
classic poems
his grandsons
and me.

I miss you, Daddy.

Gateway to Altered States of Consciousness

TMI by Baja Rock Pat

It’s been a month since I returned home from my six-day Gateway Voyage program at The Monroe Institute (TMI) in Faber, Virginia. TMI specializes in exploring altered states of consciousness, out-of-body experiences and peak human performance and they use sound frequencies (Hemi-sync© binaural beats) to induce these states.

As the old song by Jim Stafford went: “Take a trip and never leave the farm!” Indeed.

“Hemi-sync” is short for “hemispheric synchronization,” or the coordination of both left and right sides of the brain to stimulate expanded awareness and more focused human performance. Wearing headphones, the listener hears similar but slightly different beats played in each ear. For example, the listener might hear a beat of 100 Hz in one ear and 104 Hz in the other. The brain then interprets the difference of 4 Hz as that of a third beat, which it mimics, creating theta brain waves, which is the brain’s natural state of deep relaxation and increased learning. And when combined with an atmosphere with minimal or no outside sensory input, the mind is capable of incredible things. Therefore, each participant is assigned his or her own CHEC unit complete with headphones, volume and light controls, and a black drape to block out noise and extraneous sound and light.

CHEC Unit

 

 

 

CHEC Unit                                                         (Controlled Holistic Environmental Chamber)

 

Founder, Robert Monroe, strove to keep his research scientific and credible, so in developing his techniques, he worked with many professionals including psychiatrists, psychologists, physicists, and electronics engineers to name a few. It was crucial to him that his research was considered valid in the scientific community. And this was one of the reasons I wanted to attend TMI. What they offer there is not spiritual shenanigans. The human brain is an amazing instrument and capable of far more than we realize.

Robert Monroe

                                                                Robert Monroe

 

 

 

I’ve been going over the notes I took while I was there in order to process the incredible things that happened to me. There were many. And some were intense. Not for the faint-of-heart. After six days of lying in the dark on my back in my cubicle with headphones on, the experiences I had will probably take me years to absorb, but I thought you might be interested in a little introduction here, as I continue to sort everything out. Some of my deductions thus far:

  • Death of the physical body is not the end.
  • If we were to use just a tiny bit more of that which our brains are capable, we would be able to accomplish more in our lives than we ever dreamed.
  • NOTHING is impossible.
  • I have complete and total control of my life–my thoughts, my deeds, my circumstances–and I can change these any time I choose.
  • The physical world is an illusion. Our perceptions of what is real and/or true are based on our beliefs, our thoughts, our heritage, our religious teachings, society, and many more influences.
  • I am so much more than my physical body.

IMG_0095

 

                                    Crystal on the property

 

 

 

So, what exactly did I experience? How did it feel? Why would anyone take the time to explore something like this? Wasn’t I scared? Did I experience other levels of consciousness? Did I leave my physical body? Did I encounter intelligences from other dimensions?

Stay tuned!                                                                                                                    (PS–the answer to the last four questions is yes.)

Rachel Love Show Podcast

I had a super great time chatting with Rachel Love on a2zen.fm yesterday about my book “Dance of the Electric Hummingbird,” what I learned from my experiences and about Sammy Hagar.

Although I always visit the host’s website to learn about him or her before I go on the air, one of the most difficult things about being interviewed is that you never really know what to expect. What are the host’s beliefs? Did s/he read my book? Plus, you have to be prepared for anything–you never know what they’re going to ask, and you want to come across as intelligent and interesting.

Rachel was a delight; she has a wonderful sense of humor and had me laughing most of the time. However, there was a moment about half-way through the show where we became disconnected. I had headphones on and was nowhere near my phone, so how this happened, I have no idea. All I know is that since I’ve become a bit more comfortable with things that aren’t always explainable, perhaps the energy between Rachel and me was just so great that it overloaded the airwaves because this has never happened to me before! So please excuse the dead-air space until I was able to call her back and resume the interview.

In case you missed the show, you can listen here:

Thanks again, Rachel! I enjoyed talking with you. It was like chatting with a dear friend.

And thank you to all of you who tuned in. You are the greatest!