What Is Reality?

IMG_7887So, this month, I want to share a story—a true story—that happened to me—and maybe you too? I believe reality is so much bigger than we know, and it is slowly beginning to reveal its true nature to us.  Are you open?  Does this story offer a different picture of who we are—and from this vantage point allow us to ask the question, “What is the true nature of our reality?”  Is it only a construct in our minds? Are we in our very own Holodeck?  (A place of virtual reality in the StarTrek series.)  In the series, the holodeck is often used to recreate familiar places, participate in interactive stories, and to practice a variety of sports and skills. Could it not be as “fictional” as we think? Or is our current reality only build around our present memes—the collective conscious belief of our current, very limited potential, as we exist in this moment? Or, is reality in our current 3D model—and by its very nature always changing, to what’s next? Is this a glimpse into what is coming? Perhaps it is?  I’ll let you decide for yourself.

I was visiting a friend of mine.  The summer before I had spent a few extra days of summer on the Olympic Peninsula, as I had several years in a row. There was always something magical—serene, untroubled and tranquil at Brad’s house in the wood.  In my wanderings, I had come across some nice ceramic bowls which I thought would be an upgrade from the several blue zip-lock bowls on the shelves of the Sequim retreat—a place filled with solitude and peace.

So, I thought, it was unusual the following morning after my arrival this time, when I went to prepare breakfast—that all 9 bowls had disappeared.  (An odd number, but they were from the thrift store—and sometimes things come in odd numbers there; probably a set of 12 that someone had donated.)  I asked, had he seen them?  Yes, Brad remembered them—but commented—he hadn’t noticed them in a few months.  After a thorough investigation separately, our search—revealed no bowls.  How odd I thought—the plates were there from two summers before—and nothing else seemed to be out of place; my memory perused any new possibilities.  I looked up and asked Brad—would anyone have thrown them in the trash?  My mind had slipped into the petty scenario that someone had not been pleased with the addition of the bowls—or my presence in Sequim.  However, Brad looked at me directly and answered, “No.”  “That stuff doesn’t happen here,” he added.  “Ok”, I said, “I just had to ask.”  My logical left brain was diligently trying to sort out some explanation for their disappearance.  I reached for the blue plastic disposable bowls without saying anything else about the curiosity at hand; they would work just fine.

Brad had a few projects, he was working on outside after breakfast, and I offered to run the vacuum upstairs, inside.  The house wasn’t horrible—but seemed like it was time to ‘get a layer off,’  a quick freshening up. The house  always had a treehouse feel to me—and without it being anyone’s permanent house on a daily basis—served as a weekend get-a-way for which I was grateful for.

I set about to tidy the living room and kitchen which sat up high in the trees.  I was quite present, and in a cheerful mood. In spite of the coolness, the sun had graced us with it’s beauty and brightness today, I thought to myself while I—attended to the vacuum,  determined—to get the mighty machine cleaned out, so it could preform it’s household duty.  After three attempts the hoover was happily doing its job.  I moved the two coffee tables—and used the hose to suck up the wood dross around the tile which held the wood burning stove.  I folded the canvas wood carrier and carefully laid it on the faded plywood box.  I set the marigold-colored dustpan next to the wall—and lifted the drum stool—with its black pocked naugahyde seat and its bright chrome tripod legs—over to the large black tripod in the corner which held the Peavey speaker.  “How cute I thought to myself—the small tripod nestled into the big tripod.”  I finished with the vacuum and looked around surveying my work.  Everything looked good—and I went downstairs to see if Brad needed any help with his current and ongoing projects; a rhetorical question for any homeowner; the answer was “yes”.

Several hours later—with the rain falling heavily—and the sky darkening further—we retreated upstairs to throw potatoes in the oven—and headed into town for a RedBox movie rental and a few more groceries for the house.  I set the timer on my phone for an hour and off we drove to the nearby Safeway.

It had been a splendid evening—Dinner was a delicious fish with fresh asparagus and our oven baked potatoes with fixin’s of butter and sour cream; it had been a long time since I had indulged in a loaded baked spud.  I enjoyed every bite.

With a gentle coaxing and a glass of wine—Brad seemingly was the only one who could get me to sing.  He was one who had taken Karaoke to a seriously serious level—and with no one watching or critiquing—felt at ease enough to just have fun.  There were several songs that just lent themselves to our—or my level and aptitude and we were having a good time. We had found the lyrics on the computer—and had watched a couple of the artists on YouTube—even tuning into Darrell’s house.   Now, Brad grabbed his drum sticks and walked over to the drum set which sat behind the couch—handing me one of his sticks—I tap—tapped—tapped on the edge of the drum closest to me, and then pointed to the corner—and said, “grab the drum stool”.  He turned—and I said, “Where did it go?”  It was there this afternoon when I vacuumed, because I picked it up and moved it into a third quadrant of the large black tripod stand which stood in the corner holding the speaker.

Now, would be the time for the creepy music—because there was no stool—anywhere.  We looked in every corner, and every closet.  Brad wondered had someone been in the house?  Possible—except the house was locked—and because I had set the timer for the baked potatoes knew that we had been gone only about 45 minutes.  I didn’t have a sense that anyone else had been in  the house—and if so—why would someone take a drum stool seat—and leave everything else?  From a logical viewpoint—that didn’t make any sense either.

We looked downstairs.  Not in the guest bedrooms. Not in the laundry room or bathroom. Not in the garage.  The stool had vanished—along with the bowls—and the only link was me.  I could feel Brad was a bit freaked out on the inside, but to his credit—he was calm on the outside.

I thought about this a thousand times since then.  I am not afraid, but instead makes me question reality and its changing nature and how often we write things off that we don’t understand.   But, this was too tangible and I couldn’t write it off. Over the years—I have had other things “disappear” but never so quickly or obvious before my eyes.  I spoke to a few of my friends—they have had things disappear also—that make no logical sense.

So, is this a timeline jump?  Is it something to say to us—What is real?  It’s bigger.  Be open.  You don’t know, what you don’t know. Are there parts of our laws of physics that are missing?  I’ve heard there are two.  What have you had that “went missing” without any logical explanation—and perhaps made you wonder—what the heck is reality? My final question to myself was—if we can make stuff disappear—can, and are we learning to manipulate mass and reality that will be useful in the ascension trajectory humanity has chosen and be able to manifest what we need on demand?  And, is this why reality looks so different to everybody—because its all about perception and how open we are to what’s next?  And lastly, does it have to do with our rising consciousness?  I don’ have any of these answers—but look forward to what’s next—and as Paul Harvey used to say . . .  Stay tuned for . . . the rest of the story—page 2—when it appears outside of our linear timeline, coming to a place near you!

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Battle Cruiser

I met the truck only the afternoon before.  My friend Brad had named it the Battle Cruiser with the plate to match: BTLCRSR.  I must admit, it was certainly not a pretty sight. The yellow paint faded—exposed rust in certain places and green moss covering parts of the exterior and hood. It’s four and a half decades were evident; it was a work horse.

After some coaxing, the loyal truck came to life.  I was happy to see the life return as the deep throaty motor sounded like a tired warrior awakening as daybreak arose too early: Brad pumped the gas pedal and cajoled the old Ford pickup into being.

I had a mission—and needed the Battle Cruiser’s help.  The instructions from Brad were simply that first gear was not necessary—to low a gear to start. “Use second” he said. Easy enough I thought and nodded, as I climbed in the next morning and sat in the driver’s seat, starting the engine.  After decades of smaller and smaller cars—and trucks—this old relic was immense.  As tall as I am—and as long a reach as I have—I could not, even leaning over and stretching, open and unlock the passenger door from the inside.   Were the vehicles really this big???  Wow.

And, so it was, I shifted the truck into gear, lifted the clutch and headed up the wooded driveway finding my way to the 101 and to the Kingston-Edmonds ferry off the Olympic Peninsula and toward Bellevue; my childhood home. I thought about my mission to save the trash burner—a request out of my Mother’s house—before it’s fate met the awaiting bulldozer; demolishing it to the ground.  Another era gone.  As I pulled out of the driveway and on to the Sequim neighborhood graveled road, I felt my Father sitting in the passenger’s seat.  Perhaps, he felt my bit of nervousness, apprehension, or trepidation with the old truck?  At any rate, I felt the reassurance as the memories of familiar childhood adventures surfaced.  This time however, I was driving—and he was riding.  I continued my drive south 42 miles to the Washington State Ferry terminal; my mind concentrating on the road as I roared along feeling like something out of Mad-Max Road Fury.

I thought about the laughter that ensued when I voiced my request for the trash burner; I had my reasons and I didn’t really care what anyone thought.  I pulled up to the toll booth to purchase my round-trip fare.   “Lane six”, said the woman in the toll booth as she handed me my change and receipt.  I smiled and thanked her, easing the truck back into gear and driving forward into my designated parking lane to await the Ferry’s arrival into Kingston terminal. Settled, I hopped out of the Battle Cruiser and headed up to grab a cup of coffee—standing in line—I heard someone shout—“Here comes the ferry.”  I abandoned the line and headed back to where the truck was parked.  The adventure had been so smooth thus far and all was going as planned.  Or so I thought.

Lane five moved beside me and I turned the key in the ignition to start the engine.  Nothing. I turned the key off and on once again.  Nothing. I pumped the gas pedal and tried several more times to start the engine . . . nothing.  Not even a peep from the mechanical beast from which I sat behind the steering wheel slightly panicked and watching the other vehicles and passengers drive past me and onto the loading dock—and onto the green and white vessel that crosses Puget Sound so regularly.

“Are you in trouble?” the WSF* system employee shouted, I nodded—“yes, I think I am,” I answered back.

“I’ll get someone to help you.” And, I climbed out of the Battle Cruiser wondering, what just happened?

Within minutes, another, employee named Sarah had wheeled over a portable battery charger to jump the truck.  She stopped—and pointed to the winch on the front bumper.  I turned my head and stared, “Oh, sh-t,” there was smoke coming from the winch. Whirling back towards the terminal—she said—“I’ll be right back—stand back.” I looked at the winch with disbelief, and within moments she was back with a large fire extinguisher ready to douse any flame should it appear and this situation become worse.   With the 11:55 am ferry loaded—I watched my ride sail away—wondering how long I would be sitting on the Kingston dock—somewhat helpless and wondering what was next?

Before I realized, there was more than five WSF employees who appeared from almost nowhere—pitching in to work on the truck. Now, I will tell you, that I feel I have many talents—but auto mechanic—is NOT one.  I was raised helping my Dad with horses, not automobiles and besides having the oil changed, stopping for gas or running the car through the car wash—my desire ended there.  So, the fact that this help had arrived with a positive attitude and generous giving spirit brought me tremendous gratitude to my uncertain circumstances. I explained, that I had just met the truck the previous afternoon . . . it was on loan from a friend.

And, so with an obvious quick assessment of a trauma medic, it was agreed that the winch wires needed to be cut; disconnect the source of the problem! In agreement and with a plan, we began, focused on the task at hand.  I choose to look under the front seat for something that might be able to help cut the wires to the bilious dying winch—and happily came up with a small pair of wire cutters.  Phoning Brad, I explained the dilemma and what had happened.   He offered to come save me—but I told him I thought I was in good hands; I would certainly let him know if I needed his help.

As I turned around to offer the red-handled tool to my new “pit crew” a man two rows over held a crescent wrench, another pair of cutters and gloves.  He began to disconnect the battery.  I turned back around and another lady asked for water.  I handed her mine—and she worked with precision filling the dehydrated battery cells.  I glanced over and noticed that another gentleman was leaning over the front fender and working in hyper speed skillfully cleaning contacts and then rerouting the wires that connected the solenoid, to the battery and to the ailing winch.  (Which apparently was the reason the truck wasn’t starting when jumped.)  This man, wearing a bright orange T-shirt with motorcycle designs, white hair and beard, and half smoked cigarette hanging from his mouth worked with such expertise we all sort of stepped back; everyone seemed to sense his mastery.  Before long, the “bull” arrived and another attempt at starting the disabled Battle Cruiser began.  We—the truck and I— had definitely developed a bond since I had first climbed aboard hours before.  This time when I turned the ignition—the resuscitation of the Battle Cruiser was successful and it issued it’s healthy roar.  I literally welled up as the “pit crew” and other waiting passengers in line clapped and cheered at our triumphal achievement.  I stepped out with a big smile and thanked everyone. The battery cable clips came off and the hood came down—just as the next ferry was pulling into the dock.  The lady in the car next to me handed me a wet wipe—she said, “they’re really for make-up but I think they will work great for the grease on your hands.”  I hadn’t even noticed.  Another woman came up to me—and said, “If they load and you aren’t signaled—please go ahead to me.” I thanked her too.   This was a reminder of humanity at its best.

I waved and honked in gratitude as “Sarah” waved me on . . . I was the first one on the ferry for that crossing and I felt very honored.

I reflected back on all the chaos in Washington D.C—the hatred and vitriol spewed by so many these days. There was certainly no fence sitting anymore; all was being revealed.  You could not be someone you weren’t.  I believe deeply we are all the same; okay—we may look a bit different—but we are all pieces of the divine.  I believed humanity was proving it’s chance for goodness and light; in fact we seemed to be at war with the darkness: greed and lack of integrity and hatefulness.

The event on the Kingston Dock certainly cemented my belief in humanity’s goodness—something I wished the evening news focused on more—not the inherent fear, fear and fear they sold to their vulnerable audiences daily. It is our power of intent—our desire of compassion—and our tolerances and acceptances of our differences which make us strong.  Our common goal must be one of LOVE—which if you haven’t heard, is the most powerful force in the Universe.  LOVE changes physical things and it will change our world too.  The time is now—and we are the Ones! The powerful  difference we each make based on our choices every day changes our world. And, that’s the world I choose to see and live in.

The rest of the trip was seamless and the trash burner is safely stored in Sequim—waiting for its return to service.  I on the other hand—look forward to the next adventure—whenever and however it presents itself. Namasté.

“Inspired Wellness from Within”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

Cathrine Silver is a Board Certified holistic counselor with a practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, FL. She is the author of the book, Riding the Light Beam: How Any Woman Can Find the Hero Inside available at Amazon.com. She can be contacted via email at cathysilverhealth@gmail.com. For more information visit www.CathrineSilver.com.

As a post note:  I learned that the man in the orange T-shirt name was Richard.  He was a master mechanic and forensic scientist from the Tri-Cities who had been visiting his wife whose daughter was due to have surgery.  I had gone upstairs on the ferry to use the restroom and have a snack.  I purchased clam chowder and a water—and upon walking up to the cashier—made a last minute decision to add a beer.  LOL—it had been quite a morning.  I sat down—and Richard walked by.  I called his name, and asked him if he drank beer.  He replied—“On occasion.” 

“Can I buy you a beer”, I enquired? He nodded.  I got up and went back to the cashier and returned to the cafeteria where Richard sat.  “It’s the least I can do.”  “Thank you for everything” I said—“I have a feeling—I would still be sitting on the dock without you stopping by.”  He said, “I saw the hood of the truck raised.  I travel with my tools.” 

 I will always be grateful for all who gave me help that day.  On some level, we are always watched over—and he was one of my Earth Angels that day.  I was glad I could offer the simple gesture of thanks. 

*Washington State Ferry

Summer Adventures Past and Present

Sun Lakes, Washington, circa 1968, July 12th.  I am holding my birthday cake—and the picture is with my siblings. I was 11. My memory decades later is that the wind was so fierce I thought the candles would blow off the cake. Even today, as I look at the picture there are NO lit candles!  (smiling) The family vacation that year took us on to Yellowstone.  The National Park is such a unique place on earth and holds amazing memories for me; we stayed at the historical Old Faithful Inn and, of course, saw Old Faithful (Geyser) in action. In addition to the unpleasant sulfur smells coming from the hot spots which have made Yellowstone National Park so famous, we witnessed a woman positioning herself in a picture with a Mother bear and her two cubs.  Are you kidding? We saw moose strolling across the road and standing in the rivers, heard wolves or coyotes in the far distance and watched endearing critters in all forms; squirrels, crows, raccoons.

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Sun Lakes, Wa- Happy 11th Birthday!

There were other camping memories I hold including catching fish in the Big Wood River in Idaho, getting stopped in a road search for an escaped felon near Billings Montana, when we visited the Grand Tetons, and getting to stay at the “Let ‘er Buck Motel one night in Pendleton, Oregon when my Dad was just too tired to drive the five plus hours home, are my distant past adventures.   The world is full of wonderful things and it gives our lives an expanded meaning, discovery and wonder of who we are when we explore beyond our familiar “village”.

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Yellowstone National Park

Decades later, circa 1996, Nacogdoches, Texas, I would take to the highways once again with my boys on adventures of our own.  I still remember today that Stalactites hold tight on the ceiling and stalagmites might reach the ceiling, learned on a stop in Carlsbad Caverns while heading west.  The Grand Canyon and Pacific Coast Highway were other places of wonder. We would see Sea Lions, roast hotdogs on the beach, explore the waterfront of San Francisco, ride a cable car and enjoy a harbor tour around Alcatraz Island.  We visited Wyoming, staying in Jackson Hole, Telluride, Ouray, Durango, Silver City, in Colorado, and “happen” upon the small historic Tea Pot Dome Service Station in Zillah, Washington built in 1922. I had seen it growing up and it was such a delight surprise that I came upon it along Hwy 82 on one of those road-trip summers. Mark Twain once penned, and I would add with great wisdom, “Travel is fatal to narrow-mindedness, prejudice and bigotry.”

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Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, circa today. As the 2017 summer begins, another adventure awaits me, and looks completely different than the others.  This time, it is to retrieve my old 1970 MG.  It was my first car and one I bought in college—and has been sitting in Texas which had been my home for many years.  A friend of mine is picking me up at Sea-Tac and we are heading down I-5 into California and then ultimately east towards Texas.  Our plan is to see parts of Arizona and explore New Mexico—a place he has never been; and ironically one of my favorite states.  What lies beyond these words as my journey unfolds, as I step out of the airport, I cannot say.  However, I embrace the words of physician, philosopher and poet Debasish Mridha, “Life is a magical journey, so travel endlessly to unfold its profound and heart touching beauty.”  Inspirational writer Lailah Gifty Akita notes, “Adventure begins with a thought, decision and action.”

And now I ask, “What is your heart’s desire?”  Where does your wanderlust pull you?  Is there a place you have read about or have seen in pictures that you want to visit? If you don’t do it today, then when?

Enjoy your summer adventures—whether it is a trip to your local state park, searching for Lighthouses, an ocean picnic to a different coast or drive across the state, just because.  Pick something that sounds fun and make it so!

“The world is full of wonderful things you haven’t seen yet. Don’t ever give up on the chance of seeing them.” — J.K. Rowling

Did You Have Fun?

Many would argue that the rigors of travel, the time change, the long days, and early mornings could be blamed for the cold I am experiencing at the moment. Science might argue that riding on a plane and sitting in a room of over 400 people from around the globe singing the language of lights quantum style could be blamed.  There are germs—after all!

However, I believe that this choir, my fourth, which took place in Chamonix, France last week was a huge vibratory shift and upgrade in my essence; and my biology is now catching up to this “new” higher vibration. (Many choir members are reporting on Facebook their own shifts and instantaneous changes in their lives as well.) Nearly, 5000 miles from home in the French Alps, sitting in the shadow of Mont Blanc approximately 400 of us from over 33 countries sang tones releasing energies contained within time capsules onto the planet through paired nulls and nodes.  These multi-dimensional time capsules are also held in our DNA, Gaia and within the dolphins and whales. These energies of “information” were placed here thousands of years ago by our seed parents, the Pleiadians, should we make the leap shifting into this new energy paradigm and the ultimate new human consciousness.  Fact or fiction?  You decide.

I was pulled like a tractor beam—-as were so many others who “heard the call”.  Was this my soul’s purpose at this time?  Or one of the reasons I choose to be here during this tumultuous recalibration of Earth’s history and progress as a human race reaching for a new state of consciousness? If we are eternal and forever with no beginning and no end, was this potential set by divine appointment, to assist humanity, way before we have verifiable understanding of the truth, depth and certainty carried within the quantum light language we sang?  Apparently, the Universe and Galaxy know and this knowledge is instantaneous and there is great celebration and admiration for what we are doing “down here” for “out there!” Presently, we are in a struggle between light and dark—and the chaos we see on the news certainly confirms this endeavor.  I know and can report that the light is winning!

We must get out of our boxes to see this in an astute way and realize that there are so many things that we don’t know and can’t explain.  Spontaneous remission can’t be explained by our men of science.  Germs, were invisible (until they weren’t) and were unbelievable to many upon their “discovery”.  In our limited perception, there are many things which logic, analysis and intellect cannot rationalize away. This is one of them. Esoterics are like that.  But, it doesn’t make them not true; mainstream belief is just not there yet.

So, as we sang beautiful pairs of tone combinations and tender enlightening Lemurian Lullabies to awaken our inner light (as well as the Lemurian child), the intention of the time capsules were set to respond to “compassionate action”.  We have changed our planet forever.  The melodious sounds and harmonics created within our group were pure magic—and the purpose even more cosmic. These specific tones released energy, held within the time capsules that the “Pleiadians knew we would need . . . right about now.”

Just before leaving, Dr. Todd asked me, “Did you have fun?”  Maybe I should say, it was out of this world!  Not only did I meet many wonderful souls from around the world—I feel we were an emissary of true light and love for the new potential of what is ahead for our planet. I salute Dr. Todd, Lee Carroll and Kryon—the choir directors, the united loving world of other old souls from around the world who sang with me—our ancestors and our seed parents—and my new calibration!  I wouldn’t have missed it for—the world!  As John Lennon sang in 1988 . . .

You may say I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one

I hope someday you’ll join us

And the world will be as one . . .

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“Inspired Wellness from Within”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

Author of Riding the Light Beam; How Every Woman Can Find the Hero Inside”

Relationships – More Than Meets the Eye

Life—is bigger than we know. And I know that the same is true with relationships—whether we’re connecting with our dog, our kids, our friends, the ocean or the trees and plants in our garden or the forest outside in nature.  Everything is much bigger than our intellect and ego safely insist and wants to catalog in a neat book or box or pre-set set of rules of how things are or how things can or should be.  Sometimes, they just aren’t.

While walking through the bookstore last weekend, I noticed the racks—and shelves of books and magazines on relationships.  How to start one. How to maintain one. How to fix what’s broken.  Questions that address intimacy, feeling supported, making a contribution in the relationship, flexibility, judgment, jealously, to name a few; this list is almost endless.  I pulled numerous books off the shelves and leafed through the indexes and tables of contents. None of them addressed true soul relationships, except one which noted, Soul mates were seductive and completely silly, the author certainly pooh-poohed the idea that relationships could be made in previous lives.  Really?

So, let me start with the belief or premise that we are eternal and forever and as souls, we come to earth again and again and again; it’s what we do!   In fact, I believe that 2, 3, or 4 lives may be ONE experience for our soul as seen as continuous experience, purpose and growth which we know as lifetimes. For our soul—a traveler between dimensional worlds— some things would just be carried forward. That would include relationships; our likes, dislikes, fears and phobias sure are.

Each time we are here, it is recorded in our Akashic record.  For those unfamiliar, the Akashic Record, is a “dimension of consciousness that contains a vibrational record of every soul and its journey”, writes author Linda Howe.  Every life is recorded and remembered while on Earth and in a modern-day lingo—downloaded here for safe keeping upon death and uploaded upon our return.  The souls that have been here the most and the longest are the old souls who carry the most wisdom.  You can equate this to years in school; the graduate student holds more wisdom than the one in kindergarten; lifetimes are the same sort of way.

But, back to my topic of relationships.  Yes, we have soul relationships with many—but not with all of the people in our lives.  Some people just resonate with you; you feel it, and know it—whether it makes any sense at all.  How many have talked to complete strangers, they just “know”?

In fact, there are many soul relationships and each carries its own distinct “flavor” or “energy”. There is one called cording. In this relationship, one is the “giver” of energy—the other is the “receiver”. Monad relationships are another, for which there are many different types, and are experienced in both directions around a specific issue. A monad is formed for a learning experience, but it is not necessarily a karmic one.  This relationship often feels as if two souls are on a see-saw—the most common being “teacher-student”.  Another soul relationship is one called a task companion.  Usually everyone has at least one task companion; it’s about performing one or many tasks together.  This relationship is very compatible without a lot of arguing or bickering or dealing with intense (karmic) issues. Still another is called essence twins or twin flames.  A twin flame has purpose behind it, driving toward a goal. Real-world examples: Ronald Regan had a soul mate called Nancy. But the discovers of the DNA structure, Watson and Crick, were twin flames, so were Mikhail Gorbachev and his wife Raisa. Often times it is a dicey and challenging relationship, but with great purpose.  Another is major Karma. Karma is an emotionally intense experience which causes a sense of imbalance in the parties. The law of karma is unfinished business—and when you have an emotionally intense experience with someone, you will eventually experience that emotionally intense experience from the perspective of the other participant.  And lastly, that which the media and popular belief have made so famous is the soul mate.  A soul mate is a partner for life. It does not have to be a romantic one. What they don’t say or know, is that your soul mate may be your grandmother, son, daughter or the neighbor next door.

The other thing the books don’t talk about is the fact, that LOVE is a quantum energy.  (So are magnets and gravity.)  And, although we accept these things, we can’t really explain them.  Relationships seems to be like that too. Like the seasons, all relationships change over time—as we grow and change every day.  We don’t all grow at the same pace, nor do relationships.  Within each relationship, we have the potential for compatibility, sympathy and understanding—we also have degrees of tension, antipathy or lack of communication.  All relationships, especially romantic ones bring expansion or growth. Maybe some of the “rules” and “judgments” for ourselves and others must change as well? And while the books are great tools, the real truth, probably is not found on the pages the books, but in the heart—every man and woman’s communion with an external source of hidden knowledge within—which each individual must seek and find for him or herself.

 

“Inspired Wellness from Within”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

Author of Riding the Light Beam; How Every Woman Can Find the Hero Inside”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP, is a Certified Holistic Health Coach in private practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, Florida. She works collaboratively with clients on their desires regarding relationships, spirituality, career, physical activity, nutrition and loss. Suffering through her own loss in 2005, Cathrine motivates and empowers others to be the heroes in their own lives, becoming fully responsible for their own happiness, joy and well-being.

Cathrine holds a degree in Speech Communication from the University of Washington, is a graduate of the Institute for Integrative Nutrition and holds certifications in Reiki, Matrix Energetics, Hypnosis, Biological Decoding and Grief Counseling.

Cathrine has two grown sons and a two-year old grandson.

Coming Soon: 

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Grief Recovery with a Heart

Inspired, Caring, Supporting

www.soultosoulretreat.com

Embrace the Light, We Need Love Not Hate . . . In the Position of Presidency Now.

Sitting in traffic today, I reflected again on the current state of affairs taking place at every level of our society, which has been highlighted by the White House and influences surrounding Trump including “conservative” big money donor billionaires who stand against what the majority want for our future, and fearful small minded individuals who chortle ideas of isolation and protectionism from “liberal ideals” screaming exclusion to anyone or anything which seems to disagree with their ideology or is “different”.

This small-minded non-astute fear and hate comes in many forms, names and disguises*.  It is very unbecoming to humanity—especially in our land that espouses so many opportunities and was built on the philosophy; freedom for all.  Why have we slapped labels on everyone we encounter?  It really seems a revelation of our ability and depth for compassion action towards others—or lack thereof—our inclusion—or lack of—or our love or our hate and fears now un-hide-able and on display for all to see no matter if you are red or blue—pink, purple, green or orange.  The era of fence sitting is over.  We cannot pretend to be one way and really act another behind closed doors.  The truth is upon us.  For some it will hurt—for others they will be seen as the compassionate human beings they have always been.  But why have we labeled this as conservative and liberal?  Can’t we just call it, “accountable”?  Isn’t it really a war between light and dark? Between choosing love or fear?

I lived in Texas.  I lived in Iowa.  I grew up in Seattle.  And I have made south Florida my home for the last dozen years.  I have a college degree which exposed me to many individuals—all students together on the large campus in Washington and the small one in Nacogdoches, Texas.  My ex-husband spent eight years in the army as part of the medical corps—and the exposure was enlightening. Early in my marriage we drove through many countries in Western Europe. I have traveled to Hawaii, California, and many other states exploring, and traversing the United States with my kids and ex-Mother-in-law in tow.  I lived in England for a short stint—and I took in foreign exchange students from around the globe.  I am proud to say that in my experience, and underneath it all, most everyone just wants to be happy—they seek love.  They want to care for their children.  They want to provide for their families.  They talk of their childhoods. They talk of their parents; their courtships. They want nourishing healthy food to eat.  They love to laugh. They want to help the underprivileged. They want to be well, and have clean water to drink.  They want good education themselves and for society–their children.  Most everyone likes a good story and enjoys sharing theirs—to be heard.  Goodness rules most of the time and is normally quiet—fear and hate are loud, obnoxious and need to have the attention to control; force and broadcast as fear is their motto and mechanism.  This is old paradigm—old energy survival still clinging for “life.”   Haven’t we outgrown this old paradigm, Donald?  Or are you just the one elected to shake the fence of comfort?

We are all here as souls to make a contribution to the evolution of humanity.  Because, “they”, like “I” are all part of the divine creator. Whatever the face of God looks like to you, I ask, how can we spew such vitriol at each other when we all come from the same place?  Different names and different rituals, and different traditions, we are all part of the vast and unknowable living soul of the cosmos.  And, I wonder out loud, how anyone can be so arrogant as to feel they are better than and know more than others?  To push their beliefs as the law of the land which simply doesn’t fit into my box is wrong—so why do they insist I live in theirs? Who made that rule?  Can’t we figure out how to live in peace where the one with the most testosterone doesn’t have to dominate and control others? Where is the tolerance and empathy? Why do they hold us small? Don’t we need and want a country where we can all honor our differences and respect one another?

I am proud of the judge in Seattle.  I believe he ruled correctly. (And the court in San Francisco also.) And now Hawaii. This was a ban of prejudice and exclusion that could only be based on fear. Ironically, Trump seems to want to isolate us, like he has isolated himself in his ivory tower—exploiting many for his gain.  (I have no proof, but suits against him for not paying people for work they have done in good faith are well documented, and I am sure there are many unscrupulous actions and intentions that certainly have crossed the line of decency. Which is oddly deemed as “successful” and even admired in our culture.  What happen to words like, wisdom, courage, love, temperance, or integrity—or kindness, fairness, gratitude, humility, beauty of our earth or excellence?  And we all know, how you do anything, is how you do everything.)

Miami is a multi-cultural melting pot—and a microcosm of our country; there are many more “Miamis” outside Florida.  The faces and heritage have continued to change over the decades and will change into the future. We have all come from somewhere else, no matter who we are when you go back far enough.  Even bigger, we are all a melting pot. It is most obvious for anyone to see.  Perhaps a bigger question to ask, is their hatred of others, really a deep self-loathing mirror about how they feel about themselves?  Is it a revealing portrait of how this lack and never-ending abyss of not-enough is camouflage for self-abomination, and hatred of self, whose actions are bullying, lying, narcissism, control and the perpetuation of fear?  It shows in every other way as well:  Lack of respect for women and the choice for caring and making decisions for ourselves on what is right for us or the total disrespect for the LBGTQ community is disgraceful.  The budget presented recently is certainly another reflection of Trump and the White House’s lack of compassion and concern for others; Military guns, aircraft fighters and destruction, his choice over peace, negotiation and compromise?  Really, are you serious?  Has anyone told him and his merry band that the old prophecies have passed?  That is not the plan for Earth.  It is time to look forward to something new, positive and elevating; we passed that marker—that potential gone.  Why do you keep revisiting this doom and gloom?  Are you trying to be right?

If he wants his fantasy Kingship to be one of greatness, this “Wildcard” in the White House, needs to bring us to unity, love, tolerance, compassionate action and peace both here and around the world: we must set the example.  Otherwise he will go down in flames with the other arrogant leaders of history that thought they were unreviewable and untouchable.  The energy does not support his actions and time will simply reveal his true intention of light or dark.  . . .

Yet the real catalyst may be the stirring within each one of us.  Somehow, when we think its another’s problem, we don’t have compassion for another’s plight or struggle—until it hits close to home.  I watched and read a number of emotional pleas from red state Trump voters who came very close to losing their health care—and their meals. Even PBS’s Big Bird’s head is on the chopping block.  One woman from Indiana was upset when she learned her husband was being deported—he apparently had never completed paperwork—and is now sitting with ICE to be sent back to Mexico in spite of living here for decades.  She was astounded because in her mind—only “bad” people would be deported.  Hitting home stirred her beliefs and her viewpoint.  When we live in a box that does not include others who are different from ourselves, we never change our view of life.  Human nature always seems to point to someone else’s plight and fault—but that’s old too.

We must all take part and perhaps that is what we are being called to do . . . stirrings of a civilization growing up. In the end, Love “trumps” hate which ironically seems to be lost on our leadership today.  And when the leadership understands this, we will be better able to move forward in a more astute way; it is not us against them.  No one ever wins this way, with this mentality.  Our goals of the future, must be goals for humanity, where peace, benevolence, and compassion is given to all including our home, we call Planet Earth.  When we embrace this vision, red, blue, pink, purple, green or orange can come together in unity. Perhaps, we are the army that is being called forth? Can you visualize this unity, peace, love and compassion for all? I believe it is up to us, not just our leadership.  And, if those in Washington, D.C. choose not to carry this vision for us—we can do it for ourselves because it’s our world and there are millions of us to stand together in Love!  This is the power we hold. See and embrace the light!

“Governments cannot exist in an old paradigm when those they rule are in a new one.”

*The Immigration Ban

The Great Power of Change

Have you ever felt like you have just landed in a Twilight Zone episode? Or perhaps have just disembarked in a land you hardly recognize, although things feel slightly familiar? That Déjà vu feeling that bleeds thorough your reality to the NOW? It was only a distance of 100+ miles, but on the other side of Alligator Alley I felt I had just landed in the middle of a Hollywood movie set on a recent trip to Naples, Florida.

A friend had arranged a meeting with an engaging, winsome woman who I had met through her podcast radio show several years before, and I jumped at the opportunity to connect once again. She was also a spiritual seeker and I wanted to share my newly published book with her; she excited to meet us as well.

The three of us enjoyed the peaceful and delicious lunch at a charming downtown eatery in Historic Naples. Outside on the patio the conversation was deep, meaningful and relevant to our lives as we shared stories about the twists and turns life offers up. After several hours, we parted and taking advantage of our Saturday adventure decided to walk around enjoying the quaintness and cheerful surroundings. After all it was a “swell” day to walk the old part of town—window shopping and people watching before grabbing dinner and heading home.

Strolling down the sidewalk, snapping a few pictures and watching visitors like ourselves, I felt out of place. It was bigger than that however. I turned to my friend Lynn and commented, that I felt I was living in the middle of the Illusion—that all of this had been constructed for our learning and earth school—in fact each of us playing our parts—all with academy award performances, in fact, as specialists that we are. And beginning to answer the big cosmic question, who are we? Humans here in physical form to affect the WHOLE, extending far out into the Universes and Galaxies beyond our wildest imagination in the name of love. What boundaries do we hold? Or it is only our own limits and perceptions that restrict us?

My concepts of reality had been shifting for some time, but today it was kinesthetic and palatable Was there a rift in dimensions occurring and was that the sense I felt? After all, this affluent, conservative Christian appearing group was so outside the world I recognized by its diversity, color and bi-lingual culture of Broward and Miami-Dade counties. Is this where our realities formed within the bubble we lived? Was this the place where inclusion and exclusion collided? Or where hate and love became judgment and bargaining chips of delusion and fears?

The 1998 movie Pleasantville serves as a great example. Suddenly, Toby McGuire and Reese Witherspoon are cast into a Black and White television series in the fictitious town of Pleasantville. The characters in Pleasantville cannot see color—they don’t know books, or apples or sex or rain. Life is a façade in this place far from reality, as we can imagine. Their world is limited to what they know, which is safe. “What lies outside Pleasantville?”, they ask. The question is a profound one. Is it one that we must ask ourselves as well? And, how many of us still live in the 1950’s world of colorless black and white? Where is our Universe, and does it need to be messed with? What begins to happen when we truly begin to connect with others—all others? Is it only then, that we too can step out of our bubble of illusion and live in the multidimensional world of color which can be a metaphor for Love, Peace, Compassion and our hearts. For as Ervin Laszlo states so eloquently “I am part of the world. The world is not outside of me, and I am not outside of the world. The world is in me, and I am in the world.” Gee whiz, the great power of change.

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