Consciousness
Changing World
Self-Reflection
Flash Fiction

EARTH SCHOOL

This is another concept I have never related to. The idea that Earth is a school and we come here to learn lessons, to me is a disturbing slant on looking at life. I hated formal schooling, and learning “lessons” feels punitive. We homo sapiens sapiens are not children, not in the largest self of who we are. As has been said, We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience. True we come into this body in a state of forgetfulness, not remembering where we’ve come from or who we are, something, by the way, so many of us at this time of awakening are beginning to remember. And we come here by choice. Many decades ago, a non-physical guide of mine explained that the purpose of choosing lifetimes on this free-choice planet is not about learning lessons. It is to Experience, Express, and Enjoy! and that perspective has always made sense to me.

ACCEPTANCE INSTEAD OF BELIEF

In the metaphysical community, it has been the contention that we create our personal reality through our thoughts, beliefs, and expectations. It has been the contention that one must examine their belief systems in order to “figure out” where they’ve gone wrong, why they’ve not “manifested” everything they desire. While I do believe we get what we focus upon, that thoughts having electromagnet frequencies of attraction, something scientists, by the way, would disagree with, I also feel that in this new enhanced and speeded up “ascension” energy, there must be quicker routes to creating the most fulfilling journey.

Recently, an enriching perspective came to me in a channeled podcast. There was a shortcut, a way not to get caught up in the  tangles of old limited beliefs. It was simple and straightforward, and it made perfect sense to me. It was this—“Acceptance is the new beliefs.” What it means is that instead of monitoring my beliefs and thoughts to decipher what I am or am not, consciously or unconsciously creating, I focus instead on accepting all my heart’s desires into my life. I don’t even have to define them. My Soul or High Self, my Spirit Team, my Angels, my Guides, my Galactic family all know exactly what those desires are. I love the idea that “acceptance” and no longer “belief” is now the most important piece to manifestation.

Here's how it works. First, I accept whatever I’m feeling, feeling it completely and without judgement. Only after that, can I choose to move into the field of manifestation. When I am clear, I invoke the mantra, repeating it out loud, trusting in its truth—I accept my heart’s desires into my life. I accept my heart’s desires into my life. I accept my heart’s desires into my life. Three times is the magic number, chanting it as many times a day as I feel to do it. For me it has been powerful, expansive, and freeing.

AUTHENTICITY AS EXPRESSION OF SELF-LOVE

This last revelation I actually came upon myself, although it was wonderful to hear it communicated in a conversation on a podcast I often listen to. It was about the idea that the meaning of self-love has expanded beyond looking into the mirror and expressing I love you out loud to my wondrous self. Not that this isn’t still a beneficial thing to do. It is. But the idea of self-love now needs to be lived “in the world,” in the practice of owning my truth, of being authentically who I am in any given situation. It does not, however, mean to judge anyone or anything, or to try to convince anyone of anything. That’s not what authenticity is about. It is about participating in things one resonate’s with, and opting out of things done out of feelings of obligation. It's about expressing honestly from the heart when asked for your perspective, even though you know it might differ from the stance of the asker. When truly responding from the heart, more often than not, no one gets angry, hostel, or hurt. Authenticity is the new self-love.

BEING A FIRST-WAVER

The mapping of the generations that have contributed to the current ongoing inevitable ascension of consciousness was another wonderful discussion on a different podcast I often listen to. With my too fast approaching 80th birthday in December, I’ve found myself at times feeling more than a tinge of guilt and regret over not, for various reasons, being able to do more out in the world at this stage of my life.

But after I listened to this podcast, I was reminded that as part of the Baby Boomer generation, I was in the First Wave of those who incarnated on this planet with the focus of helping to move human evolution forward. The First Wavers were the ones who brought about the first huge step to change. As I’ve written before (See What If and The Evolution of Consciousness), we ushered in the Age of Aquarius in the 1960’s testing boundaries with sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Through the 70’s, we traveled along the woo-woo road, devouring everything from Krishnamurti, through all eight channeled Seth books by Jane Roberts. In 1987 we welcomed the Harmonic Convergence, a rare planetary alignment ushering in a new era of peace and consciousness, marking the start of the final twenty-five-year countdown to the end of the Mayan calendar. In 2000, we went through Y2K anxiety, wondering if all computers would fail at midnight. In 2012 we witnessed the end of the Mayan calendar and celebrated the beginning of another great energetic shift of consciousness. And now in 2026, we have arrived at this beyond-time that is forever changing everything.

As I contemplated these things, I understood that I have played my part in the world, and now was my time in this grand evolution to be a Wisdom Keeper, and to embody all that I have learned. For me, it is a time of Being rather than Doing. It's now Generation X, Y, and Z who are carrying the story forward in the world and fostering the birth of a New Earth. And it's the children, the Alphas and Betas who have come in wired differently, with more of their DNA intact, consciously knowing who they are and why they’re here, that I believe will be the new Way Showers of the near future.

A FEW PROFOUND CONTEMPLATIONS

* Forget appearances, nothing is at it seems
* Everything happens for us, not to us
* All things are possible
* Love is exponentially more powerful than fear
* Truth is amorphous

FLASH FICTION

This is the first and only flash fiction piece I’ve ever written. It was published decades ago. She may not remember, but I have to thank my dear writerfriend of the heart, Debbie Daniel, the queen of flash! for helping with the title all those years ago. Enjoy…or not.

 Why Stefan had to rent a sander and refinish the floors in Brenda's bedroom

When the cashier prematurely and automatically, without a twinge of uncertainty, gave her a senior discount, Brenda felt compelled to paint every room in her house Chinese red. She went to Lowe's and sorted through palette samples. Chinese red turned out not to be so simple. She compared tints and hues, finally deciding on a shade that reminded her of a clingy swingy dress she'd worn to see Baryshnikov dance Romeo at Lincoln Center decades ago when her hair had pigment and her skin knew how to hold itself in place.

Not having painted anything in a while, Brenda asked the twelve year old "design consultant" named Binky what else she would need. He helped her gather painter's tape, stir sticks, rollers, brushes, plastic, all of which she carted home along with eight gallons of Peking Passion. She wondered what Stefan would think. They'd only been lovers for two months and were still at the stage of undressing by candlelight, and watching each other sleep. He had not yet witnessed female hormones—or the lack thereof—run amok.

Brenda began with her bedroom. She flipped on Ravel's Bolero, shoved furniture, draped, taped, then rolled overlapping v's along the wall behind the bed, burying forever all traces of Perfect Pearl. Feeling the echo of horns and drums rumble in her belly, she dipped a brush, wrote WILD WOMAN in letters two-feet high on the adjacent wall. Heavy spatters of crimson sprayed her cheeks. Her hair became an impressionistic blob spreading across her old Kirov Ballet t-shirt. The music opened, wound back on itself, ascended. She dipped again, wrote HOT TOMALE, added HOOCHIE MAMA ROJA. She grabbed the old paint-speckled towel from the corner, slid it around her blue-jeaned hips, swished it from side to side. Cajoled by a swell of strings climbing toward crescendo, her body searched for a développé, an arabesque, an entrechat-six it could not find. Bolero thrashed and pounded to climax. Brenda, trembling, collapsed to the floor. So much red was unsettling, like playing with more fire than she remembered how to handle.