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Choir Adventures in Avalon

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Sometimes changes are subtle. Changes can be “quiet.” Small things can be Life-changing. And, some changes don’t make the 6 o’clock news.

The last week in May, I participated in another Pineal Tone Choir.  This year it was in England; Bath. Cute historic villages which dot the English Countryside where history gets written and then forgotten in legend; until we are reminded once again.  Bath is very close to the small and quaint town of Glastonbury—with a history that dates back thousands of years. I understand Jesus and his Uncle made three trading trips to Glastonbury; tin was the metal needed in Palestine at the time.  It was a village of natural sustenance; the place where we romanticize and connect with wandering musicians, poets, and hard fought battles. This was the place able to amplify human consciousness due to the strength of the invisible crystalline grid.  This was also the place able to amplify the desires that exist within every person—known as the “hero’s journey.” The place of King Arthur, Excalibur, The Stone and the Sword.

Last year, in France—400 people from 44 countries gathered for this extraordinary event.  This year there were 440 of us from 40 countries demonstrating the soul family exists outside of our biological family one: we are truly connected to one another in a very profound way.  Choir members feel like long-lost soul brothers and sisters. Was this the greater truth in our voyage to earth? Was the intention to own and amplify our magnificence?  And, in turn help the world to feel theirs as well? A vision and metaphor of what can be?

The Avalon Choir, gathered to sing tones that have been given to Dr. Todd who has a relationship with “those that set them up”—a light language—or quantum code—when sung in pairs with pure intention—open time capsules—and match up polarity points on Earth, change our DNA, and work to awaken new consciousness.  The changes are powerful. In fact the true power comes when the toning is combined with a Consciousness of Action. This action is leading us to a destination that human consciousness hasn’t seen before. Spurred on by the Procession of the Equinox—this 36 year window—is changing the course of humanity along with our Pure Intention.  And, one of the biggest take-aways—is “History will no longer drive the future!”  In-between the HA, HA, HA’s and the AUU, AUU, AUU’s there is perfection and harmony. We as a race are connected intimately and on a fast-track into our future.  And, that future includes LIGHT! Because the tones were developed for our biology by the Superhuman’s from the STARS who set them up, I would bet that we are right on schedule!

What else did we learn in England? We ARE from the STARS.  This is the creation story of the indigenous—and it is modern man’s too. As we move away from our dysfunction, we will begin to change the parameters, and see this system which will move us more deeply into the AGE of COMPASSION.

Glastonbury is where the legend of the Sword and the Stone originates. But it is bigger than this small village west of London. The sword we know has many names—and personalities.  Here it is called Excalibur; a master of its own, stuck in the Rock. The ROCK cannot be destroyed.  As with all great legends, we know the Rock with a Sword in it has been there a long time. The ROCK represents the Darkness of the Past. Who pulls it out of the stone?  The One who has destiny on their side—the energy of Light and the Magic carried inside.  We are the fifth civilization who has tried to pull the sword out—the four others before us failed. The name of the individual in this scenario? It is not man, or woman. It is the human being—or humanity—this civilization #5, and our destiny is change.

And, as the human steps up to the platform and looks at the sword; WE smile. We now know the Sword will come free. We have figured it out. We have the magic. We have a wizard. It’s called 23 pairs of chromosomes. Where does our personal superhuman wizard come from? It is in our DNA, given to us by our seed parents—the Pleiadians—and it is inside of us. Because we have their biology. It is not in a few—but in all of us. (plus the 24 pair which is multidimensional and therefore not yet “seen”.) We are ALL from the Stars. And, when we acknowledge our Wizard, we acknowledge the creation of the wizard as well. Today we may call it our higher-self. But the Magic we carry is God INSIDE. That is what our seed parents from the star system of the Seven Sisters—the Pleiadians gave to us.  And, when we grasped the sword and pull it out of the stone—“everyone” knew.  This is what happen in 2012. And, during that choir in Maui, when we held the Sword up high; the change began. The galaxy celebrated our achievement!

This is the Hero’s journey completed.  Yet, this is not the end of the story.  It’s only the completion Part I. This battle of darkness is one that we have begun with sincere and intense conviction. We have more Light than ever before, and we have a wizard helping us along the way.  And with our fellow Lightworkers—our companions—WE WILL PREVAIL. In every Hero’s journey, there is romance, victory,  great depth, intensity and emotion. ALL ours.

The name of the Sword is peace on Earth, and we know it by many names. The reward for the journey is they say, is not the peak for which we all strive. It is always the here and now. The journey of humanity is no different. And as the Sword (peace on Earth) starts to glisten and shine in the Light, We as humanity will take the Sword, walk it out of the station, ready to do battle with Darkness, knowing we have already won.

This is not the end of the journey—but a new beginning. We have entered a new Time. We have pulled out the sword—we have met the Wizard inside—and We now know we have help. We are illuminated and full of Light. Perhaps, one day it will be on the “6 o’clock news!” Until then, as Jefferson STARSHIP sang . . . “Nothing’s going to stop us now.”

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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!

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

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.

12 Ways of Christmas

images-5The holidays are upon us. Here we go again. And, unless it’s my imagination, the energy is more intense than in past holiday seasons; maybe it’s just me? Or is it? So, it’s not about cookies and pies and sugar plums which dance in everyone’s head.  Everywhere around me I am hearing extreme stories—and feeling the blowback with unreasonable responses to simple requests. Could it be the severe transits in the sky or that this shift in human consciousness is real? The fast-tracking and completion of this 9 energy seems to be upon us—endings and new beginnings ready or not!  Strap on your seat belt, I think there is more ahead. Is this where the “rubber hits the road?”  Or, as Lee Carroll says, “No more fence sitting.”

Even though we can’t see such progress nationally or globally, we know something is different in our lives.  Just like gravity and magnetism—or love for that matter we cannot see such invisible energies.  We even have a hard time explaining such things, but they are so a part of our lives that we’ve cognized them and believe it’s so and know them to be real.  By our choice and willingness at some level, the universe is pushing and pulling us forward, forcing decisions on our behalf.  Are we still clinging to old outdated ideas and beliefs that do not serve us? What is our truth?  We don’t know what we don’t know.

I have heard families are still feuding about the results of the recent presidential election—not talking because of its outcome . . . Greed, shadow-like behavior and lack of integrity is being challenged on every level. Ideas are projected onto others without warrant through filters and bias reflecting like mirrors back to them through us.  Others have expressed to me, they feel invisible within their family unit.  It seems like we as a human race have been running in circles for years. Cycles within cycles of the same, but no more, the finale is here. We are being pushed forward with such force that things are crumbling and falling fast—like the lightning bolt or the tower in the tarot. Shazam! Crash!  Boom! Bang! It’s here!

So, with such turmoil swirling everywhere, how do we shift things for a more civil and loving holiday season?

In reality, we can only be responsible for ourselves, right? I offer these suggestions. Many have stood the test of time: virtues and strengths we all know.  This is our test as well.  How are we going to do?  This is about awakening the Master-hood within. It is about empowerment.  In this season of light—that’s exactly what we are being challenged to do.

1.) Be compassionate to others.

2.) Be who you want to be and create the experiences you want to create.

3.) Biological family is not a requirement, if friends or soul family are a better option—choose them instead this year.

4.) Give your best.

5.) Live by your values

6.) Show wisdom, courage and love in your decisions and resistance to judgments.

7.) Offer humor to situations.

8.) Come to the party with open-mindedness

9.) Have gratitude to the small and large things life has to offer.

10.) Bring a dose of humility and kindness for all.

11.) Don’t take everything so personal—it’s really a reflection about the other.  It’s not about you.

12.)  Put the star at the top of the tree.  This is your light that shines so bright—that it radiates out to the world.  (That comes from inside you!)  Happy Holidays.

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Inspired Wellness from Within”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

Cathrinesilver.com

Milestones

img_2845It had already been a few weeks of significant change and major life events for me as a boarded another flight out of Ft. Lauderdale ten days ago. I was headed for Boston’s Logan International; my youngest son David, was getting married to a beautiful young woman named Hannah. They had fallen in love seven years prior while they were both in college.  Now they were marking the beginning of yet another cycle in their relationship; a vow to each other and commitment to their future together.

Weeks before, I had celebrated my Mother’s 85th birthday with my siblings and their families on the cool Pacific Ocean in the picturesque town of Cannon Beach, Oregon.  Thirteen days later my Mother would pass unexpectedly in her sleep; a surprise to all. She, on the soul level, was complete.  The end of another cycle; her transition was proof as shocking and surreal as it seemed to us, upon receiving the heartbreaking phone call.  We were all together again. This time at her memorial service appropriately held in the First Hill neighborhood at the historic Trinity Episcopal Parish in Seattle.  This was a place of memories; she had been married there—so had my brother.  She had held a similar service where we sat upon her own Mother’s passing—my grandmother and my namesake; I remember that, so many years ago.   History on many levels as I learned that her Father had helped to found the still beautiful old English Gothic Revival landmark; milestones. . . .

At my son’s wedding, I would be seeing my ex-husband and his new wife. He was a reminder of another milestone: my painful divorce in 2006. I would be saying hello to my aging ex-mother-in-law, seeing my happy, energetic red-headed two-year old grandson, my oldest son Joshua and his wife Jessica, and meeting Hannah’s parents and sisters for the first time.

I had vowed to myself to show up powerful, balanced, peaceful and loving.  I felt, I had fulfilled that promise—to myself:  for me that was another milestone and cycle that was complete.  I had been working towards that resolution for the last ten years.  It was the mastery inside that I strove for daily, and my compassion and evenness was proof that day.  These events, coming like hard packed snowballs, one after another, certainly acted as good barometers for not only myself—but can be markers, for all of us—on how far we’ve come, or how much work on ourselves we have left to do. No denial or illusion would mask any remaining sorrow, grief, anger or emotional hurt which remained.

Milestones— those major events in our lives are happening all the time to everyone.  They are defined as a “significant event or stage in the life, progress, development, or life of a person, or of a nation.”  We often think of birth, death, divorce, and marriage as the biggest and I believe they serve as our greatest teachers in life.

Each and every one of those events could have been a traumatic emotional sand trap; life’s hazards of sorts; “Watch Out!” However, in the center of any storm, you can stand as the unmoved mover and reside at the place of stillness within.  What comes to mind as I write this blog, is the merry-go-rounds they had in parks when I grew up.  You could more easily stand the ride if you could get to the middle of the quickly moving circular metal platform—a brightly painted spinning disc with welded grab bars called fun!   On the outer edges the ride was definitely more dizzying and much harder to hang on.  Isn’t life like that too?  How easy or difficult is it to get to the center of ourselves—our eternal core of strength when there is so much change happening so quickly? This can be dizzying too. The core of internal strength, please remember, is that which we carry inside ourselves.  It is in everyone. It is that piece of the divine that so many dismiss as separate, and external from our very being.  But, acknowledging this I AM strength is a gift we can access at any time; it’s there for the asking.

And then I wonder and ask, do we need to be more like the leaf on the river, always being guided around the rocks and undercurrents? When we are able to trust this always spinning revolution and know that our lives are co-created by our complete and whole beingness including that God-part within; we are like the leaf.   Or are we barely hanging on for dear life, dizzy, shaken, and too weak and unable to stand upright?

I have come to believe the Wheel of Fortune—represents the wheel of life.  It is a powerful metaphor for our lives; our milestones.  It continually moves—up and down.  It is our job to stand in the center.  At the highest level, writes Pamela Eakins, the wheel is seen as “the wheel of consciousness and a wheel of evolving destiny.”  She continues, “The Wheel of Fortune is seen as a path that brings individuality into alignment with the movement of the Cosmos.”

When necessary these past weeks, I felt strong.  I felt compassion.  I have allowed myself to be vulnerable.  I have been loving. I am at peace.  I felt like I have stood at the center of the wheel. I feel like I am in alignment with the Universe.  I have pulled on this strength within and I invite you to do the same.

“As the world turns,

so do I.

When I change for the good,

I can touch the sky.”

Wings of Change

Inspired Wellness Within

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

http://www.cathrinesilver.com

KIDS: Natural and Logical Consequences

When Joshua, my oldest was five, I enrolled him in El Paso Country Day School.  We were stationed at Ft. Bliss military base and living up near the hospital in field grade military quarters; there were big problems with the small local elementary school just outside the military gates. I wanted his first experience and exposure to school be as positive as possible; after all wouldn’t this in someway determine his future?  My husband was doing his internship and residency and spend inhuman hours at the hospital; I have the pictures to prove it—even today.

One day exasperated, I confess in a conversation with Susan Jordan, PhD, assistant to the founder of the school, that I would never get Joshua to school on time without the morning drama that eventually ended up with me upset.  Was yelling really necessary to get him to move in the morning so we could get to school on time? I guess I was seeking answers; needing help.

Her response was utterly astounding to me.  She simply advised, “let him get dressed at school if he is not ready when it is time to leave the house.” I was speechless.  “I can’t do that”, I instinctually responded and added,  “He will come to school in his pajamas!”

 

Sweetly, she smiled and answered my protest,  “Let him know what time you are leaving,” I listened intently.  She continued with the precise but simple instructions.  “Tell him when you are leaving, and if he is not ready, he can get dressed at school. Tell him that you will put his clothes in a bag and that he can get dressed in my office.  Then upon arriving, bring him into my office and set his bag of clothes on my desk.  He can get dressed in here.  And, I will see you in the afternoon, with his sleepware in the bag; you can pick it up off my desk.”

She then explained this parenting technique called Natural and Logical consequences.  It puts the responsibility on the child. The child always has a choice.  If Joshua chose to get dressed, for example, at home, then the experience he has is different than choosing to play with toys and not be ready. Then by his inaction he must get dressed at school. His other option is to get dressed at home before leaving. Each choice the child makes brings a new experience from his or her decision. Each a valuable learning experience based on his/her choice.  But the responsibility is put on their shoulders; not yours.

I processed this new concept, asking myself, was I brave enough to try this novel approach?  At least to me it was different than anything I had known at the time.  Something I was totally unfamiliar with, however, it certainly sounded like sage advice and something that would support a new healthier routine each morning getting out of the house.

Morning came. Joshua was still playing when it was time to head for school.  I had followed her instructions. I loaded Joshua and David into the car.  His school clothes neatly in a brown grocery bag, and ready for him to put on upon his arrival at school.  However, when we pulled up—Joshua was a bit alarmed.  I don’t believe he expected me to carry through with what I had explained to him earlier.  I led him to the office with both his clothes nestled in the bag and his younger brother in tow—riding on my hip.  Susan was there waiting and like the precision of a swiss watch,  I gently handed her the bag and my son’s hand.  No words were exchanged.  Only a passing smile and an exchange of eye contact; the rest was in her hands. I had done my part for now.

The following morning, I again followed the new routine that Susan had schooled me in.  This time however, Joshua was half way dressed when we arrived; scrambling to dress in the car.  He finished dressing in Susan’s office that morning too.  The big shift came on day 3.  This time he was dressed and ready for school.  I never again had to say a word.  He was always ready; the drama gone.  As a matter of fact, when his brother David was around 5 or 6, there was a distraction one morning—probably a video game—I honestly do not remember, but David was not ready for school.  It was Joshua, who I overheard, telling his brother to get ready for school “DAVE, YOU DON’T WANT ‘THE BAG’ ! ”   I smiled and we headed out the door for school. It was a lesson for my kids, but a bigger lesson was for me.  And that made me smile.

“The only Journey is the one within.”

–Rainer Maria Rilke

“Inspired Wellness from Within”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

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