Category Archives: Spirituality

Podcast of Planetary Spirit

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Jeff

Host Jeff Ferrannini reads excerpts from Patricia’s book on the air, expounds on Patricia’s portrayal of Sammy Hagar who, despite his role as a legendary rock star, also has a deeply spiritual and caring side, and then moves on to discuss the implications Dance of the Electric Hummingbird has for the ordinary person in today’s world. Says Ferrannini,

“Dance of the Electric Hummingbird is probably going to open the doorway to a lot of people who wouldn’t be approaching this at all if you didn’t open that door and say ‘here’s another way of looking at it.’ And it’s not a holier-than-thou-type of perspective … it’s so natural, so down-to-earth, so unabashedly personal and honest that I really would find it hard to believe for most people who take the book and at least get to page 60 to not take it to heart.

This book has so many surprises for me. You’re very open and honest and playful about your sexuality.  It almost feels like an innocent person who’s awakening to that … and they’re surrendering in the moment to what feels good and pleasurable and we get taken along for the ride. Not in a dirty or titillating kind of way. It’s more like you present it like it’s something sacred: ‘This is my awakening to something so much deeper to what a human being is really all about.’

The honesty that you bring into this, it gives people permission to be themselves and to also embrace their spirit as a beautiful thing as opposed to something that needs to be bridled and controlled.”

To hear more, please visit: http://www.planetary-spirit.com/Guests/248_PatriciaWalker%20.html

A Spiritual Awakening While Fly-Fishing

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Since my out-of-body experience during Sammy Hagar’s rock concert several years ago–the moment that changed my life forever–I have stumbled upon others who have had similar experiences but through different means. And I’ve been discussing this very thing in a lot of my radio interviews lately. I’m often asked, “So, what can others do to have a mystical awakening?” I tell them that one doesn’t have to be a guru or a yogi or a nun or a monk on a hilltop to experience enlightenment, heaven, Nirvana, mystical experience or whatever term one cares to use. A spiritual awakening can happen to anyone, anywhere, through any means. That’s because each person’s spiritual needs are as different as each man, woman or child. And our ways of looking at life are just as unique.

While there is no set of rules that if one follows, will ensure a mystical experience and we cannot make it happen–these things happen when they’re meant to, when the soul, for whatever reason, is ready to hear and receive the message–there are things one can do to help expedite the process. I will discuss this in another post

For now, I’d like to introduce you to some of the people who like me, have personally experienced this amazing and wonderful clarity of mind. It is my hope that as you read these accounts, many more of you will step forward and share your stories as well. There are a lot of us out there, but many hesitate to talk about their experiences for personal reasons. But we cannot help others by remaining silent.

Meet Dean Miller. He was minding his own business, just enjoying being in nature and doing a little fly-fishing when his life changed forever. I would like to personally thank Dean for allowing me to share his story with you. Writes Miller:

I stood, not in a crowded rock-and-roll bar in a foreign country, but in a river—a solitary figure. Surrounded by high canyon walls, the warm October sun reflected golden hues that glinted off of the river’s surface. I was indeed searching, but it wasn’t to touch the divine, but simply rainbow and brown trout. I found the trout—and something quite unexpected.

The river flowed gently against my legs, its cold penetrating my waders. Fishing trinkets clinked against each other as I made each cast, accompaniment to the gurgle and babble of the slow moving water. A light breeze, nearly imperceptible, brushed my arms. My heart settled into a comfortable rhythm. The rest of my life drifted downstream, carried by the current to another time.

I made a cast and watched the imitation grasshopper float toward me. No luck. A second cast placed the foam bug further upstream, and I watched again. But this time I could see myself standing in the river. Strangely, I was unsurprised at my new perspective.

I ascended a bit higher and then paused, not of my own accord or thought, but from reaching a state of equilibrium with everything around me. I experienced no physical sensations, only complete love…from everything seen and unseen. The rocks, the water, the air, all transmitted the same intense joy that I felt from a source beyond the physical realm.

Suspended in that timeless domain I knew the answer to every question, should it be asked. Touching to farthest reach of the universe was just a thought away. But there was no need for action on my part, as “it—this love and knowing” was already melded with my soul. I was involved with everything and desired nothing. In that brief span of cross-dimensional existence, I understood what lay beyond my physical being. And I saw how easily the filigreed curtain between body and spirit can be lifted.

Suddenly, a trout swallowed the hopper pattern and without reason or explanation, I was back in my body. I resumed my earthly presence, still radiating with the feeling of what had just transpired. Landing, and then releasing the fish, I exited the river and sat for a moment. Overhead, a lone hawk circled once, then soared above the canyon walls and disappeared from view. I was again, alone, forever changed, with nothing else to do but continue my life.

I choose not to speculate where I would have ended up, or what would have happened, had that trout not taken the fly. My time in the mystic realm, however fleeting, helped direct the next phase of my journey here on earth. Knowing what is “out there” is enough for now.

 –Dean K. Miller

Dean K. Miller is a freelance writer and member of Northern Colorado Writers. His work has appeared online and in Trout Magazine. Employed by the FAA as an Air Traffic Controller for over 23 years, he was the 2010 Northwest Mountain Region recipient of the NATCA Archie League Safety Award. He resides in Loveland, CO and enjoys fly fishing, family, and friends. Please visit his website at: http://deankmiller.blogspot.com.

Realizing I Have a Choice Even When It Doesn’t Seem Like It

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This time of year is difficult for a lot of people, including me. Several years ago, my dear father passed away right before Christmas, and 51 days later, so did my mom. So after the hustle of the holidays is over and I’ve taken down all the decorations and packed them in boxes for next year, pawned off left-over cookies on my visiting sons and anyone else who will take them off my hands before I eat them all (I was raised to believe that wasting food when people were starving in the world was simply unacceptable), like many others, the starkness of winter often hits me like a slab of icy concrete.

The other day I had a particularly tough day. I was scheduled for a radio interview, was all hyped-up and ready, but for some reason, at the last minute, it didn’t work out; we had to reschedule.

Things went downhill from there. It wasn’t any one thing that seemed to contribute to my bad day, it was a combination of a lot of small things.

I felt as if my brain was in a fog and my body slowly sinking in a very deep sea. I tried really hard to make myself accomplish something because sitting around doing nothing is not something I take kindly to. Besides, I already had my day planned out—I would organize the papers in my office—make folders for all my book files, get the laundry done, catch up on the bills and bank accounts, ship a copy of my book to my aunt and finish the grocery shopping. These are not difficult tasks, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t put my body or my brain into motion. Plus, I’d been reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s book “Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage”, her follow-up to her #1 best-seller “Eat, Pray, Love” and “Committed” made me ponder all sorts of things, like my identity for instance. But that’s another post.

I was also pondering things like, What else should I do to help promote my book? and I wonder if we can afford for me to go to the dentist this month and Why the hell has my arm been hurting so bad for two weeks now? All rather trivial things, to be sure. None of them are major stressors like losing one’s job and not being able to pay the rent, or finding out one’s teenage daughter is pregnant.

Nevertheless, my mood darkened by the second, until I found myself no longer treading water; now I was going under. That was when, by some miraculous visage of strength from the back of my brain, I told myself I had a choice: I didn’t have to let those negative feelings overtake me. And I knew this, but I kept sliding into that dark abyss anyhow, and the further I slid, the less I felt able to grasp that knowledge—that I truly did have a choice. I also realized that there were thousands of people in the world suffering from full-blown depressions and all sorts of similar conditions and I was beginning to see how that could easily take root in one’s psyche when one felt like that. Perhaps, just like what was happening to me, it started with the little things and before long, those little things overpowered you like a swarm of piranhas. And as I was thinking all these thoughts, through some remaining shred of logic, I wondered—what can I do to pull myself out of this?

A very big part of me said to tough it out, to push forward because after all, you’re damn lucky to be where you are right now; you have so much more than a lot of people—a house to live in, food in your belly, clothes to wear… How dare you feel so sorry for yourself! Of course those thoughts didn’t offer any solace; they just made me feel worse, because then I felt guilty for feeling down when I had so much to be thankful for.

Right about that time then, guilt, which needs only the tiniest fissure in which to creep in and wrap itself around me like a familiar coat (or a boa constrictor—whichever image you prefer) took a firm hold of me and made things even worse: I should be accomplishing something today. I shouldn’t feel this way. What’s the matter with me? Why am I such an ingrate?

It was at that moment that some semblance of self-empowerment took over. I can’t rightly say where it came from, but somehow I managed to step back from my insistent ego-mind to remind myself all over again, that I had a choice. I could let the darkness sabotage me, drag me down further, maybe even into a full-fledged depression, or I could listen to what my body and spirit were trying to tell me, even though I kept dismissing them for all those reasons of guilt. So I leaned back in my chair and asked my body and spirit what they needed.

And this is what they said, “We’re exhausted.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! I slept just fine lastnight; how could I be so wiped out?” It was my ego-brain attempting to rationalize things again.

I decided to listen to my body and spirit. I took a nap. And when I got up, I popped a bag of popcorn in the microwave and got myself a real Pepsi, not the diet version I usually have, but a real one—loaded with sugar—and proceeded to polish them both off, even though my ego-mind was jumping up and down in the back of my brain like a bratty kid and telling me that it was almost time to fix dinner; if I ate all that stuff, I wouldn’t be hungry for dinner. Besides, sugar wasn’t good for me.

After that, I went upstairs and sat in front of my computer, and as I glanced out the window, I realized that the sun was going down behind the mountains, but I also realized something else: those last few rays were shining on my face and they felt warm. They felt like love.

My darkness melted.

We all have days like this once in a while, but this experience showed me how even small negative thoughts can easily turn into HUGE negative thoughts. Negative attracts negative just as positive attracts positive. But sometimes it seems easier to wallow in the negative, to let those thoughts pull us down rather than to search for the energy to claw our way out of the pit and into the light again. So what can we do?

I’m sure medical experts would say that I shouldn’t have had the sugar, but according to a recent article about the wintertime blues, for the most part, I did a few things right, which is perhaps the reason my bad mood didn’t swallow me whole. For one, I saw that I had a choice, and for another, I exposed my face to sunshine. I also sat back and tried to determine the cause of my bad feelings: I listened to what my body and spirit had to say, even when my ego mind told me there was no reason I should have felt that way. And when I listened, my body and spirit knew exactly what they needed.

Shamanism taught me to use this technique in other aspects of my life as well. If I’m pondering what to do in a given situation, I ask my body and spirit and notice how they react. Sometimes the reactions are so slight that I can’t detect them and sometimes they’re blatantly obvious. But the more I listen to my Higher Self, the more in tune I become with my own sense of what it is I really need, and that is one of the keys to true happiness.

I always have a choice.

My Father’s Spirit’s Christmas Gift

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This is coming from my heart. Unedited.

Six years ago today, I was stepping into my car, getting ready to go to work, when the phone in the garage rang. It was my brother, telling me that paramedics were working on Dad and it didn’t look good.

But it was too late; they couldn’t save him.

My precious father left this world just days before Christmas in 2005. We were a close family. Mom joined him 51 days later.

To me, Christmastime is family time. A time to relish the blessings I have in the form of my loved ones. And every year, I go overboard in spoiling them. I figure, what good are material things if not for sharing with others? According to my husband, I spend too much money on my family and friends at Christmas. I bake too many cookies and make too much candy; I have too many decorations and too many corny Christmas CDs. It’s true. I do. I can’t help it. It’s not because I think giving material things or causing people’s waistlines to expand are the most important aspects of the holidays, it’s because I use these things to honor those I love. Because to me, it wouldn’t be Christmas without the cooking, baking, gifts, and decorations, but mostly, it wouldn’t be Christmas without my friends and family.

And because of this, coupled with the fact that we lost Dad right before Christmas, I miss my parents more than ever during the holidays.

So last night, before I sat down to meditate, I was thinking about how much I missed my dad and I wrote in my journal about how badly I wished I could see him again—hug him, smell him, look into his eyes. And as I meditated, drifting to that place of serenity in my mind, I “saw” a black tunnel about twelve inches in diameter. The opening was small and it grew wider on the opposite end, like a funnel with the small end facing me. The inside of it was swirling and there were wisps of white stuff floating in it like threads of cotton candy. And suddenly within the tunnel, like the image from an unseen projector, was my dad. He was much smaller than in human form and he was walking toward me, calling me by the pet name he used to call me when I was a little girl.

Was all this just my imagination? I wondered.

Still maintaining the controlled breathing I use during meditation—slow, rhythmic, even, measured—I opened my eyes. And then I saw it—the outline of something moving and transparent like liquid egg whites. I could see primarily just the edges of it near the dresser in my bedroom. It was the shape of a human, but I didn’t recognize it as anyone in particular. And it was about eight inches shorter than an average adult.

A tingling sensation went down the back of my head and down my spine. Tears flowed from my eyes. I knew then, that the sensations I was getting, were my body’s way of telling me that this apparition was the spirit of my dear father.

I said out loud, “Is that you, Daddy?” as tears ran down my face and my nose began to run.

There were no verbal or intuitive messages from the spirit, so once again, my mind told me, “You’re just imagining all this because you want so desperately for it to be so,” but at the same time, a part of me knew. My body knew; the chills I felt were not imagined.

I told my father that I loved him. I told him how much I missed him. And the spirit lingered for a long time, as if it was working very hard to make itself more recognizable to me, but it never quite accomplished that.

Before I knew it, I laid down on the bed and fell asleep. I never sleep soundly, but last night I did. I slept like a rock.

Perhaps this sort of thing happens to other people on a regular basis, but it has never happened to me before, which was why my mind kept telling me it was just my imagination. But I’ve heard it said that imagination is the bridge to the world of spirit. I also believe that at Christmastime, there is a kind of magic in the air even more so than at other times of the year. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve believed this. And what we believe is more powerful than any amount of scientific justification, is it not?

I believe this was the greatest Christmas gift I could ever have received—the gift of love from beyond what I see with my eyes—the gift of love, which never dies.

Wishing you and yours the blessings of love and joy in the coming year.

–Baja Rock Pat

Holiday Blessing

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As the holidays approach and many of us find ourselves over-extended in so many ways, I wanted to take this opportunity to share with you, a message that was sent to me recently, as it reminds us of what is really important–the gift of self. We can’t shine our light into the lives of others unless we nurture that light within us. Enjoy.

 

May the Light nourish your eternal and internal longing
to reach toward the Spirit.
May you recognize the unique and powerful contribution you make
to the world and to those in your life.
May the Light shine in you, and show you who you really are.
May you be loved by someone who sees you.
May the Light transform any shame, guilt or unworthiness,
and fill you with qualities
like self-respect, confidence and compassion.
May you be at one with your own body,
recognizing it as the home of your beautiful and alive Spirit,
And may it teach you to care for yourself.

May you befriend all of your emotions.
May the Coming Light enlighten you to your inherent nature.
May you live more and more from that place:
a nature fully creative, fully powerful and intelligent,
full of awe and wonder,
completely connected to yourself and others
in loving cooperation.
And may you,
with me,
extend this wish to all beings.

-Written by Rosen Body practitioner Dorothea Hrossowyc 2011-

Loss of Legends

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Posted July 1, 2009

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There are so many things I should be doing other than writing about this, but the unexpected death of Michael Jackson has thrown me into a tailspin. Death does that to us. Just when we think we’re going on our merry way, thinking we need to make sure we put the trash out on Tuesday, or get the bills in the mail before they’re late on the 15th, suddenly we are body-slammed by something much more powerful, something that makes us realize how very precious each day is.

I was expecting Farrah Fawcett’s death, but it was still a tragic loss. What a beautiful lady she was; she had indomitable class and she presumably maintained those qualities right up until the end. I used to love watching her on “Charlie’s Angels” in the ’70s and my brother had her famous poster on the wall in his bedroom. Farrah and her fellow actors back then—Jaclyn Smith and Kate Jackson, showed us that women can be both sexy and strong.

Unfortunately Farrah’s death was overshadowed by that of Michael Jackson’s…

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My youngest son came home from work and told me the news. As when I heard about the death of John Lennon, at first I thought it was a joke.

And to a lot of people, apparently it is a joke. While I was in the grocery store the other day, I overheard a man at the check-out telling jokes to the clerk—jokes about Michael Jackson’s and Farrah Fawcett’s deaths. I can take a joke with the best of them, but when I heard what he was saying, something cold and slimy seemed to crawl up my spine. I wanted to say, “Have some respect for their families, will ya?” but I knew if I opened my mouth, I’d be inviting trouble with a man who had already passed judgment on a person he didn’t even know.

The fact remains that none of us will ever know what really happened with Michael and the boys he was accused of sexually molesting. Sure, like O.J. Simpson, he was acquitted. But I have a different opinion of the O.J. case and I won’t go into that. Michael, on the other hand, was a different story. While he was obviously an eccentric person, I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt about the molestation. (I am in no way condoning his behavior however.) Not because he’s dead, but because from what I’d seen on television and the news, Jackson was robbed of his own childhood. Because of this, he seemed to spend his entire life searching for it. I remember seeing an interview with him once. Michael climbed up in a tree and the reporter on the ground below him asked, “You’re 45 years old, Michael, aren’t you a little old to be climbing trees?”

“It’s fun!” Michael chirped, “you should come on up!”

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Eccentricities aside, Michael Jackson was and always will be an icon. I saw him carry the huge responsibility of being frontman for The Jackson 5 when they first appeared on TV with their huge afros. How cool that was! He was the same age as me when they became famous. I can only imagine the immense burden this role would be on anybody, much less a child. And he went on to change the world; Michael truly did bridge a gap between races. His music appealed to all; his dancing talent inferior to none.

What makes someone a celebrity in the first place, is the fact that their personification reveals a part of ourselves many of us have a hard time getting in touch with; it doesn’t matter if we like them or not.

And whether one feels disdain toward him or awe, the name of Michael Jackson has affected us all. Let us not dwell on the negativities associated with his name, especially since the worst of his accusations was never proved. Perhaps it is our own insecurities and inequities that produced the sad and lost soul that tormented him in the first place. Let’s heal his wounds right now by not carrying them, in the form of our judgments, any further. Let’s remember the man for the gift of love and immeasurable talent he gave the world.

May you rest in peace, Michael, thank you for brightening my life with your music.

May you rest in peace, Farrah, thank you for showing me that true beauty can also be strong.

Melissa Etheridge Gives Colorado a Piece of Her Heart

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Aug. 22, 2009

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Melissa Etheridge is one performer I’ve always wanted to see live in concert. Since the late ‘80s, her raspy Janis-Joplin-vocal-style has always fascinated me.

I’m not one who’s normally impressed by singers with harmonious voices that sound like the trickle of water in a backyard pond as it slides over carefully-polished stones (although I love Bocelli). My soul is stirred by the ones who scream from deep down in their personal torments of love, anger, frustration, elation, and blow those sweet, meticulously-placed rocks to bits.

Melissa does this. Has always done this.

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On August 15, 2009, she performed for Bohemian Nights 2009 in Fort Collins, Colorado, as part of her “Live and Alone 2009” tour. She took the stage with just her guitar, but then played piano during a rendition of a Joan Armatrading song. She also played harmonica, telling the audience that a solo performer sometimes needed a harmonica. Nice reference to Dylan.

Etheridge, who is a breast cancer survivor, said that she now sees life in a new way, and one of her most passionate songs was “I Run for Life,” about that very thing. “I run for the truth, for all that is real,” she sang. The message that came through was the unselfish need to be there for others, to remind them that the “C” word is not a death sentence. I can’t think of a better purpose for a song than to inspire others.

This was powerful and her sincerity contagious.

She also played a lot of my favorites: “Chrome Plated Heart,” “Like the Way I Do,” “Bring Me Some Water” (which has always been my favorite Etheridge song), “Come to My Window,” “I’m the Only One,” and “I Want to Come Over,” in which I could feel her longing for understanding pounding out with every syllable.

Melissa’s appeal is her honesty. I heard so much angst in her songs—the kind that flows in the veins of great rock music and merges with the chords like a potion that heals from the inside out. Her music is clearly a yearning for self-understanding—isn’t that what we all long for?

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She also sings a lot about angels and love, but not in a soft way. Melissa’s got rock ‘n’ roll boots and she’s going to stomp you with them!

Like most out-of-state musicians, she seemed a bit winded due to the altitude, but toward the end of the show, she really kicked it into gear: hair flying and literally beating the notes of out her guitar. For an encore, she did a Janis Joplin tune “Piece of My Heart.” I don’t know a whole lot about Melissa, but Joplin had to have been a very big influence for her musically.

Toward the end of the concert, a college-aged girl next to me in the crowd was jumping up and down, pumping her fist in the air and screaming at the top of her lungs, causing those near us to stare. She kept apologizing to me, saying: “I’m really sorry; I swear I’m completely sober. Melissa is my very favorite!”

I just smiled. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re supposed to have a good time. That’s what it’s all about!”

And that’s also the difference between a person who merely gets up onstage and plays a guitar and someone who makes you feel it!

I was even lucky enough to get one of Melissa’s guitar picks. (I collect them.) On one side, it says: “The Dreams We Create” —another positive omen for me, I take it.

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Mystical Experiences — BRIAN WEISS, M.D. on Past Lives and Reincarnation

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September 1, 2009

In March, 2007, I had the pleasure of attending a lecture by Brian L. Weiss, M.D. Weiss is the author of numerous books, one of which I’d read a few years earlier entitled Many Lives, Many Masters. In this book, he describes his initial skepticism and subsequent belief in the existence of past lives and reincarnation.

While treating one of his patients, a girl in her 20s by the name of Catherine, the girl started recanting things while under hypnosis that she couldn’t possibly have known. With Catherine’s permission, Dr. Weiss began to record their sessions. Through regression under hypnosis, Catherine’s symptoms eventually disappeared one by one until she was completely cured of every one of her ailments.

At first Weiss couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His medical training prevented him from believing in such things as reincarnation or past lives. But through his work with Catherine, he became convinced without a doubt that these concepts were authentic and the results provable.

And as he began to adopt these notions, he too, began to change as a person. He felt a new sense of joy, hope, and purpose in his life. Others remarked how much happier he seemed.

This is similar to what happened to me, but in my case, the change didn’t sneak up quietly, it was more like the “Big Bang!”

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In another of his books, Messages from the Masters, Weiss writes about a man named John who was an audience volunteer at one of Weiss’ workshops. John agreed to be regressed in front of the hundreds of people in attendance. As Weiss hypnotized him, instead of a past life recollection, John had a spiritual experience. He saw a beautiful garden and felt an overwhelming sense of elation, beauty and awareness, causing him to realize that “Paradise on earth is possible if we choose it.”

Tears of joy flowed from his eyes because he knew something had changed for him—at that moment, his skepticism disappeared and he was introduced to the realm of raw emotion—the language of the soul.

After his experience, John began to receive synchronistic messages of gardens in many aspects of his life, as if to validate his transformation.

Weiss has since regressed thousands of people and helped them overcome physical and mental ailments. He has also demonstrated how to tap into other states of reality from our present mental state, and to “feel the pure joy, the ecstasy, the peace, and the beauty” that results from the experience.

This was precisely how I would describe what had happened to me during Sammy Hagar’s concert in Cabo: pure joy, ecstasy, synchronicity.

Past lives and reincarnation… What do you think?