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Waking Up

Gratitude for Waking Up

April 8, 2012

Don’t Go Back to Sleep

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you
Don’t go back to sleep
You must ask for what you really want
Don’t go back to sleep
People are going back and forth across the door-sill
Don’t go back to sleep
The door is round and open
Don’t go back to sleep

– Rumi

Thank you to…

You, the reader, who makes this site and this collaborative conversation so special.

L’Tanya Durante for breaking open the Waking Up series by inspiring me to plant my voice in community before I use it.

Ronna Detrick, whose conversation expanded the week-long 4 a.m. wake-up from a solo venture to a community experience that blossomed.

Dyana Valentine for helping me wake up to a very deep knowing I was ignoring before this project began.

Michele Mollkoy for pointing out the mega flow of creativity that follows after the stories get charmed.

Stephanie Murphy for helping me stay close to target and chasing the big ideas.

Michelle Elmquist for the cool badges, the assistance, and the ever hilarious camaraderie

Lisa Slavid for listening to me think out loud for months before I put waking up into blog and community form.

Dave Markowitz for hosting the Wake Up week Story Charming Party.

Floyd Rocker for taking care of me the 9 fevered days I succumbed to a mysterious virus while barely meeting deadlines.

The Wake Up callers who woke up with me at 4 a.m. to create a community of intention and awareness—and as a result, magic happenings throughout the day and the week.

The wonderful contributors to the Waking Up series who answered the call to share their work on Story Charmer, and as a result engaged, inspired and opened readers with what you shared.

The contributors and interviewees of my last blog project, Memory to Light, for helping to inspire this one — Julie Daley, Laura Smith, Gillian Berry and all of the folks who made moving conversation in the comments.

My therapist for a weekly dose of wake up and the tools to becoming a happier, more honest, trusting, and in-love woman in progress.

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I don’t think I’ve ever told you.
This is what makes my life worthwhile.
You.
In all your fragile quirkiness.
In all your blazing radiance.
You.
Tap-dancing down the street, sweaty, in a hurry,
so serious in the seriousness of it all.
Or dragging your one club foot, a reluctant dog you’re yanking along.
Or crying in your car, a stranger, next to mine at the stoplight,
your gaze averted, your fingers tight with shame around the steering wheel.
You.
When I nudge your exquisite body and apologize
as we shuffle past the canned soup, the frozen peas,
the hefty seductive eggplant,
the pregnant watermelon.
You, whom I’ve seen perhaps a thousand times, more.
And each time, I’ve forgotten
to tell you I adore you,
to bow, weeping, before your magnificence,
to skim the soft down of your arms,
to nuzzle and breathe you in as if you were the sea,
a bouquet of lilacs,
the first morning of snow after a long drowsy autumn.
You.
Grappling with the price of peaches,
grapes from Argentina,
conventional or organic.
Your forehead a beautiful worried twist.
Or your heart so wide it’s breaking,
wondering if Jennifer Aniston will finally be happy,
finally married to beautiful what’s his name,
your prayers for her, a perfect snowflake,
as she shines out from the cover of People.
I just need you to know.
Even if this morning you were standing at the mirror
with your tweezers, inspecting,
shouting insults to your one excellent face.
Or changing your sweater, shirt, jeans, dress,
over and over again,
trying to articulate the right you to help you tolerate yourself and meet the day.
I couldn’t live without you.
Couldn’t imagine the world.
A glorious field of wildflowers.
Each one, as precious and everyday as dandelion,
delicate and commanding
as Cosmos, Impatiens, Morning Glory.
You, the gentle unfurling fists of fern
tight-roped high in the forest trees.
You.  A perfect rose,
all thorned and finicky,
petals cupped around the light of dawn,
fragrant, silent
remembering yourself: glorious heart of the Divine.

by Johanna Courtleigh

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I originally asked Johanna Courtleigh if I could the post the beginning of her gorgeous, healing, John of God journey to Brazil. She writes about it with such beauty and openness. Then she sent me this poem, with a subject line in my email that said, “more waking up!” and I read it, more buoyant with every line, “heart so wide it’s breaking.” To read Johanna’s journey—and her proper bio—posted in the Wake Up series, start here, then head over to her blog to continue. It’s a breathtaking story.

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Story Charmer’s Waking Up Series is the month of March in meditation on WAKING UP. What does it mean? What growth does it spur? What wonder and challenge? GUEST POSTS and personal queries will appear here throughout the month. Read all the posts in the series here…

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Waking is Unfolding

March 30, 2012

From my friend, new mom to twins:

My favorite thing about parenting is watching who my girls become every day. It’s like they gently unfold into more of themselves every time they wake up. It really is an honor to watch and support.

Every night it gets dark, and every day the sun breaks into day. What if we let ourselves gently unfold into more of ourselves, every time we wake up?

What did you wake to this morning?

What have you recently dreamed?

How can you take that awareness, from the edge of sleep, the edge of light, into your current intention?

How can you honor, watch, and support your gentle unfolding into more of yourself every time you wake up?

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Story Charmer’s Waking Up Series is the month of March in meditation on WAKING UP. What does it mean? What growth does it spur? What wonder and challenge? GUEST POSTS and personal queries will appear here throughout the month. Read all the posts in the series here…

If you’re spurred by what you read, and you want to write a post in reply, email me (hi) at (storycharmer) dot (com).

Join the conversation. Leave a comment. Write a post.

Let’s wake up together.

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Post-Op

On my door, a bright yellow laminated sign has been posted—in six languages:

“I have had surgery and am resting/sleeping.
Thank you for your consideration and cooperation.”

My meals will be brought to me, and I will be with myself for the next twenty-four hours.

Awake, and Aware

I have imagined sleep, deep sleep. Long, beautiful sleep. The kind of sleep I have been longing for all of my life. (Christine, the doctor from San Diego, slept for two days straight, after her “surgery.”) I feel spent and heavy, and can hardly move. But instead of sleep, curiously, I am awake the rest of the morning and afternoon, save for two one-hour naps, the second after I’ve taken an Excedrin PM around four.

At 8:30 I take my nightly supplements, and two Benadryl. I still wake up at 3 a.m. for a bit. I know, healing doesn’t always happen in the timing or the way one might hope for. But I can also tell something profound is occurring.

I am very aware of my heart. Too aware. It is beating strong and heavy. I could even say it is keeping me awake. I am also very aware of my mind, and the cavalcade of memories it is trotting through. Some things I haven’t thought of for decades, more.

And I have a dream. That Ruth Paris, the mother of one of my brother’s childhood friends, who died when her kids were still pretty young, is alive, fifty and pregnant. This is a bit of a scandal. Breaking the rules for a woman her age! My father, also dead, is there.

Alive

I think this is a good sign. Something that has been long-dead is now again alive, and preparing to give birth. Not necessarily in normal timing, but birth, nonetheless . . .

In these long hours, I have many conversations with Spirit. Many prayers. I meditate and feel profoundly blessed by my life and all the twists of road that have brought me here.

I have come here to learn and witness more of what the Truth is. I have come here to see and know. I want to feel it for myself. More and more deeply. Many of us talk about spirit or God or guidance, but do we really Know how this works, know the Truth of it? Do we really believe in the spirit world? Beyond Jesus, if we’re Christians? Beyond the mere few we may pray to? Or receive and perceive as metaphor.

The Casa is full of helping spirits. John of God “incorporates” them and they heal through him. As he says, “It is not I who heals. It is God.”

So in my long hours alone, I ask to be Connected. I ask to Know. I ask to be well-used. I ask to forge a deeper relationship with the Divine. To be assisted, so I may more deeply assist. To become One with God. A portal. An instrument . . .

It Is All So Palpable

Today, I return, and again wait in line to see John of God. For a review of what occurred yesterday. I’ve asked a translator to assist me in understanding. This time, I take John of God’s hand, but our time together is still a split second. He waves me away, and I am told by the translator, “Go into the far room. He will work with you.” I follow the others before me and am seated in a row. Again, the energy feels very intense. And in a few minutes it is done, and we are ushered out. I go back into the Assembly room to meditate and integrate for a while. It is all so palpable.

Heart of Compassion

Wednesday night, we are invited to where Emma is staying, to watch a film on the life of Chico Xavier, a Brazilian man who was John of God’s mentor. This film was recently released—a full-length feature—and apparently has been the most popular film, ever, in Brazil. Xavier was a profound medium, who, in part, channeled letters from the dead, and even signed the person’s name in their own handwriting! Without having been given any information about whom the letter was for or from! There was once a lawsuit against him, accusing him of plagiarizing a dead poet whose writing came through him. And he channeled over 400 books! For which he never received payment.

Neither has John of God ever received money for his healing work. He works a job, as Xavier did, the days he is away from the Casa.

This is the tradition and teaching of the Spiritist faith. If God has graced you with a gift, you must give it away.
John of God came from a very poor family and is basically uneducated. At the age of nine, an angel came to him and asked if he would give his life to serve millions of people in healing. He has been doing this work ever since, and the Casa has been in existence for over thirty years.

He has also set up soup kitchens across Brazil. As an offering for the poor. In an interview I saw, he begins to weep, talking about knowing what it’s like to be hungry. A heart of compassion.

I feel so blessed to be here.

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Part 3 of 3. Read the beginning of Johanna’s journey…Part 1, here). And watch for the rest of the story on her blog at jcourtleigh.com.

Johanna Courtleigh MA, is a Licensed Professional Counselor, Certified Hypnotherapist and HypnoFertility Therapist, and Certified Oneness Awakening Trainer through the Oneness University in India. Her work seeks to help people heal from the mistruths they’ve been taught, and to awaken a core of deeper reverence, self-love, awareness, empowerment, ease and integrity—with themselves, and in their relationships with others. She is passionate about helping create a more peaceful world, and helping her clients become happier, healthier and more “in love” as a state of Being.

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Story Charmer’s Waking Up Series is the month of March in meditation on WAKING UP. What does it mean? What growth does it spur? What wonder and challenge? GUEST POSTS and personal queries will appear here throughout the month. Read all the posts in the series here…

If you’re spurred by what you read, and you want to write a post in reply, email me (hi) at (storycharmer) dot (com).

Join the conversation. Leave a comment. Write a post.

Let’s wake up together.

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Clash

As an undergraduate, I slogged through controversial, complex geopolitical histories of the Middle East. I thought if I looked hard enough, I would find The Answer to better relations between the U.S. and the Middle East. No matter how many research papers, policy proposals, opinion articles and historical narratives I read, I could not satisfy my perpetual question: what is going on with this clash of civilizations??

Now I suspect my dissatisfaction resulted from where — and how — I sought knowledge, and it mirrors a larger problem of American short-sightedness about legitimate sources of understanding.

Connecting Dots

The extent of Islamophobia in the U.S. shocks me. I try to counteract the existing association of Islam to violence, an association that pervades mainstream media. I try to talk to my friends and family about my limited knowledge of Muslim culture, and I’m always looking for better access points for discussion with wary audiences.

One day in music class, I found an exciting possibility. I learned that in Islam the human voice is considered the best medium for understanding and preserving the word of God. Printing the Qur’an is helpful, but limited in its ability to convey the words’ highest meaning. Saying them out loud — with the proper pronunciation, lyricism, and spiritual sensitivity — illuminates their richer beauty, making the heart tremble with joy.

When I heard this, my mind lit up and my head went wild.

I’ve learned over time that my favorite ideas sound like really, really loud cymbals; the vibrations even seem to emanate from the center of my head. It feels like the sides of my skull have been struck together, for all the clanging and crashing going on up there. The opposing spheres of stubborn shell ring in clashing resonance.

Sound of A Wake-up Call

I’ve finally learned that the clash is a wake up call. An alert from the universe to keep an eye out for new ideas, to find a new path of understanding that’s somewhere close by.

So I invite you, too, to greet the clash from a new perspective. I invite you to listen. What do you hear?

I hear the intangible beauty of the human experience. I hear the yearning and longing of spiritual seeking. I hear the power of the human voice. Now there’s an entry point, a possibility for an unconventional connection.

The Value of Voice

U.S. policymakers have to realize Christian values are not universal, including values about communication methods. Western governments will not successfully communicate with Muslim governments as long as they cling to a version of world politics that’s written, written by and for imperial fantasies.

In every conflict, there’s a resolution waiting in the wings. One cause of the clash between the West and Islam is repeated miscommunication. Maybe we are trying the wrong methods, the wrong tools for connecting so we’re missing the current. Maybe — no, certainly — we need to stop asserting our values and listen to the other side.

What Does Your Brilliance Feel Like?

So let’s listen, let’s wake up. Be open to other sources, to other ways of knowing. Look out, sniff out, hear out, tongue out, feel out — whatever works for you. Go outside your world, yourself. Then bring your experiences back in to marvel, mingle with, and awaken more truths. What does your brilliance feel like? What sense do you use, and are you already aware of it?

And once you find out, please share: I love hearing others’ sources of inspiration.
For my part, I’ll keep you posted on the path through the clash, because I won’t stop looking for a better connection.

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Stephanie Murphy showed up out of the clear blue and I had a feeling I had to work with her. Now she’s a sounding board, co-creatrix and executress of big ideas, pulling them out of the ether, chasing them with me around corners, and landing them with a daze, a triumph, and stars overhead. She writes more great stuff just like this, exercising her rich ideas on her blog. Take a look, and stretch that big brain you’re carrying around.

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Story Charmer’s Waking Up Series is the month of March in meditation on WAKING UP. What does it mean? What growth does it spur? What wonder and challenge? GUEST POSTS and personal queries will appear here throughout the month. Read all the posts in the series here…

If you’re spurred by what you read, and you want to write a post in reply, email me (hi) at (storycharmer) dot (com).

Join the conversation. Leave a comment. Write a post.

Let’s wake up together.


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“The aim is not to quench your thirst. The aim is to develop the perfect thirst, so that you never stop drinking.” ~Sufi Teaching~

The Way You Make Me Feel

I was sad to hear about Whitney Houston’s death, but my feeling watching the 4-hour televised funeral was more than sadness. It registered more as a reminder and an awakening.

I listened to the bodyguard (the real one) talk about how much entertainers give for us. Figuratively he shook his finger at us for our iniquitous condemnation of those who quench our thirst at the expense of their own.

But, wasn’t it her job to fill me up?

Rock With You

I thought about all the pop princesses and princes we know by first names who had fallen asleep empty, unhappy, judged – those whose job it was to fill us up, but retreated to fill themselves in secret.

It’s their job to fill me up, isn’t it?

I closed my eyes and thought back to 1984. There I sat at the Meadowlands Sports Complex in East Rutherford, NJ anticipating, watching Michael Jackson and his brothers perform. At the end of the song, “Human Nature,” the stage lights darkened and focused only on the guitar and MJ as he moon walked in a square. I had this magical feeling that there was a thread that connected all 55,000 of us to those guitar strings, those feet, and that rhythm. I left that concert feeling a fullness and flow I had never experienced. It was as if he had activated some kind of performance osmosis – a movement of energy from his cells to mine.

But flow in one direction can leave you thirsty.

How Will I Know

It didn’t occur to me that his cells could possibly be as dehydrated as if he’d gulped seawater. All I cared about was that he had done his job as a performer.

I spent years actively trying to recreate that feeling – a high that only oozed through my cells once I stopped chasing it during the Thanksgiving break of 2009.

I sat on the balcony of the cruise ship watching waves tumble and somersault. My boys were inside the cabin.  And there it was, in that quiet, meditative moment of equilibrium – an understanding, a remembrance. Salty tears ran down my cheeks. Even in my loneliest times since, I’ve never expected to be filled by another person.

(There Is) No Greater Love

Michael, Whitney, Amy, Heath, Anna, River, Elvis… I hope you have finally developed the perfect thirst so that you never stop drinking. I think I have.

It was never your job to fill me up.

# #

L’Tanya Durante surprises me every time I read her pieces. They’re short, they move quickly, I’m engaged, then BAM, from an angle I didn’t see coming, I’m crying. The sudden turn, of fate, of beauty, socks me in the jaw, just powerfully enough to make me levitate in the images she’s left me with. I met L’Tanya when we both wrote for Danielle LaPorte’s pre-FLAME adventure, Carrie and Danielle. It was a conversation with L’Tanya that—speaking of socking me in the jaw in a sudden turn—upped the game of this Waking Up series so sharply, it had me spinning for a week before I figured out how to land. Please, take a dive into the sweet witness of her life’s observations on her blog. And levitate.

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Story Charmer’s Waking Up Series is the month of March in meditation on WAKING UP. What does it mean? What growth does it spur? What wonder and challenge? GUEST POSTS and personal queries will appear here throughout the month. Read all the posts in the series here…

If you’re spurred by what you read, and you want to write a post in reply, email me (hi) at (storycharmer) dot (com).

Join the conversation. Leave a comment. Write a post.

Let’s wake up together.


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A glimpse of love’s legacy

I never noticed the two of them as they were seated by the hostess. They were just another couple in for lunch. Conversation with my client and a smoked turkey sandwich kept my attention until our meals were finished. He headed for the restroom before our return to the office.

It was only then, seated there alone at the table, that my attention was drawn to her, at the next booth, facing me, alone. She sat still, head drooping, expressionless, seemingly, staring through the finished plates remaining on her table, her mouth partially open as if in a stupor, motionless.

Knocked out

Dishwater blonde hair was combed, acceptable, but not coiffed as she once would have insisted. Aged beauty faintly hinted in her tired face. She had been exuberant and playful, beautiful and sexy once. Never would she have gone out in public dressed like this back then, wearing a waist length jacket with the sleeves rumpled and the shoulders not pulled down primly, and plain dark brown slacks. She would have “knocked them out” with her stylish attire.

Her husband, neatly dressed and hair well groomed, appeared from the men’s room and returned to the table. As gently as if he were lifting his first born from a cradle, he helped her slide out of the booth and stand to her feet facing him. His gray hair belied many years as her mate, her companion, her lover, and father of her children. She was his girl, once, and she still is today.

Negotiating passage

Gently he helped her on with her coat, first one arm, around her back, and then the other, patiently waiting for her slow, clumsy movement to accomplish the task as much by herself as she could. The warm smile never left his face. The blank stupor never left hers. Adjusting her coat nicely and handing the cane to her, they turned together and proceeded toward the door, his cheerful gait slowed to match her laborious plodding.

Carefully, he opened one door and held it for her as she slowly negotiated her passage through it, then the second door to the outside, again he waited patiently for her unsteady gait. Across the walk way and the parking lot they marched together in slow motion, he firmly by her side, holding her arm, supporting her, never pushing her or hurrying her alone. Many miles and many years they had traveled together to arrive at this moment, taking these steps, across this parking lot.

Steps

In today’s world of disposable everything including marriage and families, I witnessed a man’s man escort a queen, his queen. Into the sunset they stroll on, he at her side steadying her by the arm, on their way to forever.

Whether she knows him now I know not. But this I do know. He knows her. He has known her. He has loved her since the day they met. He has worshipped her. And, he will be there, steadying her, supporting her, guiding her, loving her, till the moments cease, and there are steps…no more.

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I met my dad when I was born, and we have been getting to know each other ever since. Preacher, people-person, privately pensive, Jim Teeter is a lot of things. Storytelling—and the observation that leads to it—seems to runs in our lineage. There will be stories to tell a very long time.

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Story Charmer’s Waking Up Series is the month of March in meditation on WAKING UP. What does it mean? What growth does it spur? What wonder and challenge? GUEST POSTS and personal queries will appear here throughout the month. Read all the posts in the series here…

If you’re spurred by what you read, and you want to write a post in reply, email me (hi) at (storycharmer) dot (com).

Join the conversation. Leave a comment. Write a post.

Let’s wake up together.


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Spirit Hospital

“Crystal bed,” I’m told.
“Just once?” I ask. “That’s it?” I think. It’s taken a split second! I have wanted surgery. Spiritual surgery, here in this place that’s called the Spirit Hospital.

I am a bit disappointed, but I go get my Blessed Soup, and have my crystal bed treatment—twenty minutes under large, lighted crystals that are pointed at the chakras—and return to our Posada for lunch and to wait for the afternoon session. I return in the afternoon, to sit “in current”—a room that all who see John of God pass through.

We are to keep our eyes closed, our bodies uncrossed, and be in meditation and prayer until we are told we’re done. We are to hold the energy of healing, and prayers for self and others, as part of the “current” that supports the energy of John of God’s work. People who are part of the Casa instruct us in prayers in various languages over the three or so hours we are there. I have deep, quiet meditations. Our English prayer leader is a lovely woman from Ireland. Her prayers are beautiful, gentle, passionate.  Poetry.

Spiritual Surgery

Thursday.  We awaken early and are again at the Casa by 7:30. I have decided I will go before John of God again, and tell him, “I did my crystal bed. What would you like me to do now?”

I find a seat in the Assembly Room, and like yesterday, prayers and introductions go on and on. Suddenly Emma is next to me, “John of God is going to be coming out and doing surgery in front of the group! Come on!”

She leads me up to the front of the room and we stand there, waiting. I feel uncomfortable. We’re blocking other people’s view. But such is the way here. I learned, getting onto the plane in Miami. Brazilians have no trouble pushing. I have wanted to see this. We are right in front and after a bit, John of God comes out, with a line of four or five people who lean against the wall behind him.

The Man and the Entity

Now, there is John of God, the man. And John of God, “in Entity.” John of God, the man, is afraid of the sight of blood. John of God, in Entity, has done literal surgery on hundreds of thousands of people. Without antiseptic or anesthetic. No one experiences pain or infection. There is a TV screen in the Assembly Room, running a video loop, showing him doing these surgeries. Sticking his fingers in and pulling out tissue, tumors. Doing various procedures one would never see in any hospital or doctor’s office!  I dare myself to keep my eyes open and watch the whole thing.

On the wall in one of the Casa rooms is a photo of John of God, in Entity, doing surgery on himself! He had a stroke many years ago, and one of the entities took care of it for him. Through him.

Front Row View

He is now before us, “in Entity,” channeling. He appears a bit glazed, in an altered state. There are several people holding trays of instruments, a basin of water, towels, etc. Assistants to the doctor. He speaks to them, then calls the first woman forward. She is put in a primitive, bungee-cord type wheel chair. With a bit of dramatic flourish, he takes what looks to be a kitchen knife, tilts her head back, holds open her eye and begins to scrape her eyeball. He then wipes the blade on her shirt, and moves to her other eye, scraping and dipping the blade in to poke some bit out. There is no blood, just a bit of watering. She is then wheeled away.

Next he treats a man, lifting his shirt above his chest. An assistant points to an area just below the breast, and John of God takes a scalpel and makes an incision into the man’s body, about three inches across. One large tear of blood trails down his belly and onto his shoes and the floor. He clamps the incision, and then takes a needle and thread, and pushes it through the thick tissue. He ties off the stitching and the man is seated in a wheelchair and taken to the recovery room. Someone cleans the blood off the floor.

The next patient is a younger man. John of God takes a long pair of what appear to be surgical pliers and pinches a bit of cotton in them. He dips them in some solution, and pushes the pliers a good four inches into one of the man’s nostrils, and twists. He then pushes hard on the man’s belly, and pulls out the pliers. There is no blood! The man has had no observable pain reaction. He is put in a wheelchair and taken to recovery. (I saw him later, and he was fine, chatting and smiling.)

A fourth patient is put in a wheelchair and taken away. I imagine because the entity has done his surgery spiritually, and that work is now complete. There are hundreds of people in the Assembly Room, and I have had a totally unobstructed view of this. Amazing!

My Turn

All this has occurred rather quickly, and John of God is off the stage and an announcement is made in Portuguese. Emma is by my side again and tells me, “They just said that all those who want surgery are to line up.”
“Physical or spiritual?” I ask.
“Spiritual. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Get in line!”

This is not the normal protocol, but one of the Entities has offered to do surgery for all who desire it. Again, I want to experience this, and feel it for myself.  Spiritual surgery. Not physical! I don’t imagine I could really handle that…though everyone who experiences physical surgery seems to be supported by invisible anesthesia. Going into deep trance.

A long line of us push forward. I am so moved, I begin weeping as the line moves into a room and we are seated. The overflow stand. We are told the entities can perform up to nine surgeries at a time on a person, so if we want multiple surgeries, we are to put our hand over our heart. Otherwise, we are to put our hand over the area for which we wish healing. I put my hand over my heart, and am very moved.

I Pray

I pray, “Heal me,” and in my mind recount the things I want help for. Insomnia.
Heart—mitral valve prolapse and irregular beats. Family dynamics. Bone spurs in my neck. Auto-immune disease…

We are given final instructions, and the last words I hear in English are, “Good luck, and God bless you!” Like we are getting on some kind of wild, mad hatter ride.

What I haven’t mentioned in my list is TMJ. My wobbly jaw, my quirky bite. But as I sit there, I feel something going in my ear, moving through my jaw and across my face to the other side of my jaw. My jaw then relaxes without any effort on my part. I feel other subtle sensations, but this is the most powerful. When it is over, we’re told to open our eyes.

We shuffle out, and are seated by language, to be given instructions. Blessed Herbs are to be purchased at the Pharmacia and taken three times a day for the next forty days. Also for the next forty days, no alcohol, peppers, pork or sex. We are to go to our rooms for the next twenty-four hours and rest and sleep as much as possible. No reading, no computers, no writing, no chatting. We are to take a taxi back to the hotel, come back tomorrow afternoon for follow-up and blessing from the Entity, and in one week, put a cup of blessed water by the side of the bed and drink it in the morning. This will dissolve the stitches.

We are to be aware that we have had surgery, and are in a very open, vulnerable state. We are to treat ourselves as such.

Healing Begins

Emma gets my herbs for me, and puts me in a taxi. Our Posada is less than a block away. I pay the driver and am met at the gate by a woman from the hotel.

“Just had surgery?” she asks me.
“Yes.”
I drag myself up to my room. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck! I get myself ready for bed, and there is a soft knock at the door. The woman from the Posada offers me a bowl of Blessed Soup. Everyone is to have a bowl of Blessed Soup each morning after being with John of God. I thank her, eat my soup and crawl into bed.

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Part 2 of 3. Follow along in the Waking Up series to read what happens next in Johanna’s journey. (Read Part 1 here).

Johanna Courtleigh MA, is a Licensed Professional Counselor, Certified Hypnotherapist and HypnoFertility Therapist, and Certified Oneness Awakening Trainer through the Oneness University in India. Her work seeks to help people heal from the mistruths they’ve been taught, and to awaken a core of deeper reverence, self-love, awareness, empowerment, ease and integrity—with themselves, and in their relationships with others. She is passionate about helping create a more peaceful world, and helping her clients become happier, healthier and more “in love” as a state of Being. She is available for in-person consultations in her office near Portland, Oregon, and over the phone and via Skype.

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Speaking of miracles, the 7-day Wake Up has been off the charts expansive and beautiful in its results.

You can still join us. One more day, March 26, 4:00 a.m. PDT. Wake up with us + watch your life pop open. Cost: Zero dollars and a few dawns. Reach out —> Hi [at] StoryCharmer [dot] com

Receive the Wake Up Kit. Get on the call. Or skip the call! And wake up anyway.

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Story Charmer’s Waking Up Series is the month of March in meditation on WAKING UP. What does it mean? What growth does it spur? What wonder and challenge? GUEST POSTS and personal queries will appear here throughout the month. Read all the posts in the series here…

If you’re spurred by what you read, and you want to write a post in reply, email me (hi) at (storycharmer) dot (com).

Join the conversation. Leave a comment. Write a post.

Let’s wake up together.

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Our stories save lives, sometimes our own, often someone else’s.

World Pulse provides access for the voices of women journalists around the world. Grassroots journalists write, speak, develop community, and share stories from their villages and neighborhoods in networks around the world. They save themselves. They save each other. They grow from fear to fulfillment to self empowered to community-empowering. They are changing lives.

 

There are many videos on YouTube to choose from to get a flavor of World Pulse’s mission, reach, and successes. On their gorgeous website, you will find their ongoing journey in progress, in the shape of stories, events, community and offerings. Find your voice. Hear others. Help provide access to more. Visit WorldPulse.com. And keep on waking.

World Pulse is raising money and awareness today through a sale at one of its sponsors. Go to Eileen Fisher online today, save $25, and 10% of your purchase will go to support World Pulse.

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The 7-day Wake Up has been off the charts expansive and beautiful in its results.

Join us for the weekend? 4:00 a.m. PDT. March 20-27. Wake up with us + watch your life pop open. Cost: Zero dollars and a few dawns. Reach out —> Hi [at] StoryCharmer [dot] com

Receive the Wake Up Kit. Get on the call. Or skip the call! And wake up anyway.

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Story Charmer’s Waking Up Series is the month of March in meditation on WAKING UP. What does it mean? What growth does it spur? What wonder and challenge? GUEST POSTS and personal queries will appear here throughout the month. Read all the posts in the series here…

If you’re spurred by what you read, and you want to write a post in reply, email me (hi) at (storycharmer) dot (com).

Join the conversation. Leave a comment. Write a post.

Let’s wake up together.

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Surrender and Allow

My personal journey is one of a heart opening.  The two messages I received this week were loud and clear: surrender and allow for.  Surrender that which you think you know as you simultaneously allow for that which you have not yet known.

Brand New and Relearning

Quite simply, I have not yet experienced living in such alignment, so while it feels natural, it also feels surreal.  There are moments that I feel like a stranger in my own life—my physical body has changed, my external space has changed, my connections have changed, my work has changed, *grin* my children have even grown in all ways.  This newness is lovely, yet unfamiliar, making my “regular” daily life an adventure.  One might imagine then, that when I step out of daily life into World, I am almost like a newborn, relearning everything as I venture out.  It is a whole new world.  There is magic and beauty and depth and texture and *life*, all so wonderful and delicious to me, yet often so far away in these moments that I am re-learning the “hows” of movement.

Living Through the Senses

I tend to initially resist the unfamiliar, but I find I am curious (very new for me!), and my entire being wishes to explore.  I wish to savor each moment, relish all that is presented to me.  I honor my pace as I take the time to feel everything.  I live through my senses, and I wish to explore through my senses.  I am remembering how it feels to participate in a love affair with World, from the moment I open my eyes in the morning through the moment I close them again at night, I am fully awake.  I no longer have the need to understand, I now have this desire to experience.

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I met Joy Holland early this month, when she contacted me to contribute to her magically conjured book, Cultivating Your Voice. I thought that was gorgeous timing for what the the Wake Up series is exercising. Her observations through the 7-Day Wake Up have been continued perfect timing. You can read more from Joy on her blog, Facets of Joy.

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Speaking of magically conjured, the 7-day Wake Up has been off the charts expansive and beautiful in its results.

Join us for the weekend? 4:00 a.m. PDT. March 20-27. Wake up with us + watch your life pop open. Cost: Zero dollars and a few dawns. Reach out —> Hi [at] StoryCharmer [dot] com

Receive the Wake Up Kit. Get on the call. Or skip the call! And wake up anyway.

# #

Story Charmer’s Waking Up Series is the month of March in meditation on WAKING UP. What does it mean? What growth does it spur? What wonder and challenge? GUEST POSTS and personal queries will appear here throughout the month. Read all the posts in the series here…

If you’re spurred by what you read, and you want to write a post in reply, email me (hi) at (storycharmer) dot (com).

Join the conversation. Leave a comment. Write a post.

Let’s wake up together.

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