My 40 Year Out of Body Experience

One of the things I've always thought wanted to be was a writer. I guess I should say, an author. A teller of stories. Not only with the fame and fortune that implies (or implied back in the day) but also with the impact of showing people my point of view. My perception. That there is a different way, a different world, a different possibility. I do love writing. Both the act of typing--the click, click, busy activity of the fingers as they fly. And the act of writing--putting color and life onto a blank page. It's kind of a powerful feeling, to fill up, to bring into the physical world, these things that did not exist there in that space or place before. (huh. So that's what that feeling is. Wow. I haven't really articulated it that way before.) And since I love reading and I love writing and I have in fact written blogs and books and newletters and you could say that copywriting is one of my skills and people have read my stuff and enjoyed it,  And since I am willing ...

A friend asked, why a "40 year out of body experience"? Why not 30 or 20?   Partly, it is because I had a heart attack when I was 40 years old. Well, 40 and a half, but the 40 is the important part. Many years ago (I think I was about 20), I had a palm reading at one of those community parties, as you do. And she asked if I had had a major medical issue, or had a career change? I said nope.  The thing I remember is that  half way through my life, there would be a big change. So, when I had the heart attack, and the subsequent years of learning and relearning and exploring, I think of it as the half way point of my life. That I have 40 more years to go. 40 is stuck in my head as a significant number of years. From another angle:  I am now in my fifties.  And In my teen years (say, 40 years ago), I did try to commit suicide--in my own unique way. I decided to take a metaphysical train out of my body and into the heavens. Do a true out of body experienc...

  I was raised Catholic.  And yes, I was a good Catholic girl--which translates to "full of guilt". And as I grew, matured, stepped out into the world, the guilt did not subside, it became bigger. It morphed into fear. Anxiety. And panic attacks. The conscience that was to be my guide became a rigid set of expectations and beliefs that hamstrung me for a very long time. I was worried about my permanent record; that if I did my taxes wrong, the IRS would personally show up on my doorstep and cart me off to jail; that if I didn't follow the rules, I would be causing great pain to others. And whenever something happened to me, something painful or difficult, I knew it was because I must have done something wrong. I wasn't trying hard enough.  I have finally realized what the basis of that guilt was. I grew up in the 70's and 80's, so Jesus was a friend. In fact, I don't think I needed any imaginary friends, because I had Jesus. We were close. And then I was t...

  So, I'm going to call the place I spent most of  my awareness/focus the Energy realm. "Ether" sounds a little too scary, too medical, and the Spirit realm can have weird connotations--good connotations, but also weird. Because I think I was (and am?) still trying to attain the Spirit realm. The nirvana. The center of the vortex. A place of peace. The Ohm in the middle of the world. So, in the Energy realm, time moves differently. The thought is as good as the deed. In fact, there are many things that haven't been physically accomplished here in the physical world because I had done them in the energetic world. Letters unsent, gifts unpurchased, events unattended. I had already spent time and energy thinking about, experiencing, enjoying these things. And in the energy world, that felt finished. So there was only a vague push to put the letter in the envelope. To actually get outside. To really pick up the phone. The advent of text and email have greatly improved my ...

I have difficulty getting moving, sometimes: getting out of bed; getting up off the couch; putting down the book; turning off the television.  Even though I often think, boy, I need to get to bed sooner so I can get out of bed earlier and GET THINGS DONE (the driving guilt of my life), every night I just want to stay suspended in time, play in someone else’s world. And the best part of waking up? Snuggling back into the dark warmth of the snooze–for it is a magical time, those snooze times. I've done the obligatory resting of the body; now I get to drift in a world that exists without any effort of mine. Not gonna get up. Can’t make me. Things I have read and heard say it’s the habit of the body, the body's fault--that I feel inclined to inactivity. I need to take control, tame the body like I would taming an animal. Force myself to get up, get out, exercise; have will power to deny those physical cravings; turn away from the sins of the flesh. Frankly, I have never tamed an ...

  A friend asked me the other day, why I thought my body had undergone so many physical difficulties. As metaphysical persons, we do believe there is a connection between the spiritual and the physical; that our thoughts can bring about our reality. And we have always striven to think thoughts of health and wellness; thoughts of abundance and joy; thoughts of skill and community. So why, why, why have our bodies, in effect, betrayed us? My truth is this: because for the last 40 years, I have been out of my body. Which I suppose isn’t exactly right; I have obviously been somehow connected to my body, as we are walking and talking and singing and creating, hugging and dancing. But I have not been fully integrated.  Growing up, I rocked the spiritual aspect. I was intellectual and I was imaginative and most of all I was looking toward the Heavens. Because that's what it was supposed to be all about wasn't it? Keep your mind on God. Think holy thoughts. Mind over matter. Yes, I di...