Meditation and the Sedona Method

I continue to be amazed at how meditation and the Sedona Method enrich my life, especially when they are applied together. The first half of an hour-long sit this morning yielded two written note cards on "The History Society" (a sci-fi book I've been trying to write for over a decade), one card on "6D" (the science-fact behind the aforementioned science-fiction book) and a general sense of place and well being.  The last half of the meditation enhanced the "place and well being" part.

I've been practicing meditation on and off most of my adult life.  I've dropped away from the practice when the act of "sitting" became more of a chore than an experience -- when the benefits of the meditation were not readily apparent, or when something more pressing on the "outside" took over as more important than was going on "inside".  Including Ho'oponopono and the Sedona Method have brought meditation to an entirely different level for me.  Meditation allows the mental and emotional "problems" to come to the surface in a safe and nonjudgmental manner; Ho'oponopono and the Sedona Method provide the tools for effectively resolving these "problems".  My day is noticeably much different with them than without.

As always, I hope that you find these posts beneficial for you.  Namaste...enjoy the day!

Which one hurts less?

I met someone today who asked me a question that is sending me on a rather profound journey.  We were discussing my job at the National Marrow Donor Program (www.bethematch.org) when I was asked if I'm on the donor registry.

"I am," I replied.

"Did it hurt when you donated marrow?" came the next question.

"I've not been called for that opportunity yet," I responded.

"Do you think it's going to hurt?" was the question that followed.  I replied that I didn't care, that it's for a good cause and so it didn't matter to me how it would feel.

I thought about that conversation later when I pondered another experience I've not had this lifetime:  Giving birth to a child.  I was in attendance when both of my children entered the world.  Judging from the screaming and squeezing of my hand by their mother during the procedure, I am presuming the experience wasn't pleasant.  Similar stories from other moms and dads seem to confirm that bringing life into the world is something that can be somewhat uncomfortable at some point during the process.

I have heard stories from several people while at the NMDP about how rewarding the experience of bone marrow donation was to them.  When asked if the procedure hurt, each person gives an answer that basically downplays the discomfort experienced during the process.  Whether it was painful or not really didn't seem to matter to them in the end.

Coincidentally, all the stories I have heard thus far have been from males; I've not yet been in attendance when the presenter was female.  This lead me down a path of thought that I hadn't explored before, and a question arose in me for which I must have an answer.

After pondering the conversation I had with my new friend today, I decided I'm going to make a point of reaching out to someone who has both given birth to their child and given life to someone else through a bone marrow donation.  I decided I really want to know the answer to this question:  Which procedure hurts less?  I won't ask them how long they waited to be a mom or a donor, or how long each procedure took, or even if they would ever consider doing each one again.  I simply want to understand which process was more uncomfortable to them, and it's purely for selfish reasons that I want to know the answer.

I want to understand how it feels to give life its first chance, compared with how it feels to give life another chance.

I've heard from moms how rewarding it was to bring their child into the world and, despite the temporary discomfort during the process, how they would do it all over again.  I've heard from the gentlemen bone marrow donors who have met their recipients and their recipient's families.  They have expressed the same sentiment and emotion.  The glow in their eyes differs little from the glow in a new mom's eyes.

I have donated blood before, and donate blood platelets as often as I think my schedule allows.  (Notice the admitted cop out here -- I could donate every week, but seldom make it a point to do it with that level of regularity.)  These experiences are unpleasant only in the brief moments that my flesh is pierced:  Once in the finger to test my blood, and one in each arm to complete the circuit of drawing out my blood and sending it back minus the platelets.  The discomfort is minimal and temporary...a few moments of discomfort, and a few hours out of my week spent in a worthwhile endeavor.  I know what this experience feels like, and even though I've never met anyone who has received my donation, I know from the stories posted on the white board in the waiting area that my small contribution of time and organic treasure makes a difference.

But since all experience is by contrast, this one is going to bother me until I understand it and experience it as completely as I can.

"What hurts worse, childbirth or marrow donation?"  I Googled this exact question, and could not really find anything that stood out as an answer.  As a male, I will never have the opportunity to experience the first one.  I may have the opportunity to experience the second, but to do so only means that someone else is in serious trouble and needs my help.  They aren't helpless and frail, living safely for nine months and awaiting the process that gives them their first chance at life.  They are more likely helpless and frail, living moment by moment in a struggle to survive, awaiting the process that gives them another --perhaps their last -- chance at life.

And if I have that moment of giving someone's life another chance, I'm going to find the woman who told me which one hurt less.  Just so I can tell her, "Thank you for sharing both experiences with me.  Now I understand."

Namaste.

Grieving right this time

I grieving again over some recent losses, since I didn't finish the job the first time. I recognized that it wasn't so much the lost of the role as the loss of identity that carried so much pain. I attributed so much of my identity to these roles -- this one's boyfriend, this one's husband, this business's owner -- that when the role was gone, a piece of me felt like it left as well. But it didn't...it was just the role that went away. I see that now, and hope that the rest of the grieving process carries this wicked weight away that I've been carrying for too long.

Shakespeare was right: All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players...

Why I Joined "Be The Match"

I’ve encountered many people in my first 43 years of life who have battled cancer. My mom was the first; she had more than one while I was growing up. A cousin’s husband out east was the second. The third was the mother of a dear friend from high school; she passed away when he was 16 years old.

In the last few years alone I have known or crossed paths with several people who have succumbed to it. A singer songwriter named Katie Reider, who left behind her partner and children at age 30 after losing her sight in one eye and her ability to sing and perform her music. My daughter’s elementary school teacher (this affected my daughter deeply for quite awhile)…one of my son’s teachers from middle school…a favorite member of the church I used to attend…the list goes on. With each of these people I felt helpless to do anything about their suffering, their illness, or their loss.

I’ve only now come to realize the helplessness I felt was the same feeling I had when my mom was battling cancer: Same circumstances, same emotions…different person each time. Growing up, most of the details about my family members’ health struggles were kept among the adults – I only picked up pieces of conversation here and there. This only added to the feeling of helplessness…and isolation; I felt separate from another who was suffering, and not being permitted to share in the experience. Childhood is all about learning from experiences – I had learned, or become conditioned, into feeling helpless around cancer.

I started working in the IT department for the National Marrow Donor Program – the organization managing the “Be the Match” Registry – in March of this year. I don’t remember what event took place first: Starting the new job, or finding out my cousin is battling cancer. (Not the one whose husband had it when I was younger, but her sister.) I’ve spent a lot of time since in trying to understand the coincidence of it all. During this time I discovered that so few people know about this opportunity, compared to how many people could be helped. One of my supervisors told me that for every one person that the program has helped with facilitating a bone marrow transplant, six were on the waiting list who didn’t yet have a match.

As I pondered and meditated over this whole set of circumstances, I came to another realization. I’ve been blessed with good health most of my life, to the point that I’ve actually felt guilty around others who have not had that experience. (That contributed to part of my feeling of helplessness as well, I’ve come to find.) I’ve donated blood several times, and platelets once, and have never felt any ill effects. I’ve committed on my driver’s license to be an organ donor upon my death: Since I’m still using everything at the moment, this donation is on hold. :-) It finally made sense to me to take all this to the next level.

So now I’ve signed up with the Be The Match Registry at http://www.marrow.org/index.html to be a donor. As I’m not too proud to admit it, I’m going through a financial hardship right now. So I took advantage of their current drive to add donors: Signing up before June 22nd, I’m receiving my tissue-typing kit at no cost to me. I’ve decided that I’ll pay it forward for the next person when I’m back on my feet – they accept donations on their website to support such efforts.

[For the record, I'm not receiving any benefits from anyone at National Marrow Donor Program for sharing this with you. That's not my style. This is simply me feeling compelled to share an insight with you, knowing that someone else in the world feels the same way that I did. That's my understanding of how the Universe operates.]

For all the reasons I’ve have now for signing up in the Registry, the biggest one for me is entirely personal: I feel empowered. I don’t have to feel helpless around cancer any longer. I can do more than empathize or feel compassion for whoever I encounter who is suffering from this life-altering disease. I can actually offer hope for anyone who is waiting for a match now…and anyone in the future who may need that sense of hope. I like being able to do that.


Thank you for allowing me to share this with you. Namaste.

Paying your (karmic) dues

The last time you pay a karmic debt is the time you fully release its origin. This is the backdrop behind the adage "those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it". Studying history on its surface only makes you an expert in repeating the outcome. Releasing the belief -- thought and emotion -- in back of the event allows you to finally be free from it. Be aware.

Namaste. Enjoy the day!

Why aren't you?

If you are watching what's going on in your world today,
or in your country today,
or in your neighborhood today,
And if you know how to pray,
or how to release,
or how to ho'oponopono,
And you're not doing any of these things
to help the people you see
and circumstances you witness,
Then I only have one question for you:

Why aren't you?

And if you haven't learned how to pray,
or to release,
or to clean,
Then I only have one question for you:

Why haven't you?

It doesn't matter where you are,
or where the other is,
or who you are,
or who the other is.
There's always something you can do, to act from a place of compassion.

If you can do nothing else:

Learn how to Pray, and then Pray.
Or
Learn how to Release, and then Release.
Or
Learn how to Ho'oponopono, and then Clean.


Now, what are you going to do?

Coming out of the wilderness

I've been delving deeper into myself, into all the scary places I've been avoiding up to now. The glimpses of light in the forest have been beautiful to behold (continuing the metaphor for a moment), but it hasn't been without its challenges. I did finally understand in all of this, however, what I'm supposed to be; I simply need to fully commit myself to the course that lies ahead. So while I put together the plan and plot the course out of the woods once and for all, I appreciate your patience in my less-than-regular communication.

I hope to make what I send going forward worth your while.

Namaste...enjoy the day!