Monthly Archives: July 2013

insight, Writing

Where Are Our Heros?

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Who do you look up to?  Why?  What endearing or respectful qualities does this person carry, worthy of being a hero?  Do you, yourself also harness these qualities, or do you envy them and worship them in others, whilst not embracing them into yourself?

Let me tell you about my Hero.

Now I am not a religious person.  I do not buy into secular doctrine presented through Churches or religious organization.  I have spent some hours in the bible, and at Bible College.  I have continued my research into spirituality and faith through my own accord and intuition.

My hero is whatever the embodiment of Christ Consciousness is.  And let me tell you, he ain’t no hippie dippy Jesus.

Take a moment to check out this video, to see Christ Consciousness in action.

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Notice these guys and their sense of humor regarding all the useless trends out there.  AND then notice the authentic looks of surprise and humility of the participants in Making Homeless People Smile, WORLDWIDE.

This video makes me cry every time, because it is genuine.  And it mentally takes me back to a time in my life when I was 19.

I was attending Manhattan Christian College in Manhattan, Kansas.  Just a Podunk school of about 500 students directly across from Kansas State University campus.

Now I only attended MCC for a semester.  I left with a 0.0 GPA, because I stopped going to classes in order to fulfill what I felt to be actual work from the level of Christ Consciousness.

It started out as a birthday trip to Kansas City, Missouri.  I had a bunch of birthday money, and my new best friend, Natasha, in tow.  We hoped to get into an 18 and over club.  We hoped to push the boundary on this new level of perceived freedom, being away from home for the first time.  Pushing boundaries.

I rented a hotel room, we called a cab… and we went into the city for fun.

The night never really panned out as we planned.  Early into the evening we were kidnapped by our cab driver… who was from foreign country.  And maybe things got a little weird because we were pretending to be something we weren’t… we were playing roles in this new city.

We never made it to a club.  We did however walk around town on this Friday night… and I saw something I had never really seen before…lots and lots of homeless people, and lots and lots of young drunk student types.  And in this situation of newness, I was witness to yet another thing I was not prepared to see.  Those young drunk students, being incredibly mean, rude, disrespectful and inhumane to the homeless population.

I was shocked and disgusted.  I had my own experiences with bullying, but this was like watching some sort of sick torture.

Students purposely spilling soda on sitting homeless beggars.  One young (I hesitate to use the word man) maliciously kicked a homeless vet’s hat, which was sitting on the ground full of change.  The snickering fools walking off as the Vet scrambled across the sidewalk to gather his lost money.

In that moment, some thing flickered inside of me, and in a warm rush it is as though I stepped aside in my own body, and the Spirit of something Bigger came into my heart.  It was as though my consciousness had blacked out, and been replaced by the voice and Spirit of Christ.

First thing I knew was, these people need to eat.  They need some food.  I have money.  There is a pizza shop.  I can feed them.

So I walk up to a pizza shop window called By The Slice.  The guy behind the window is named Jude.  Hey Jude.

With confidence, I ask Jude for two large pizzas.

“We don’t sell whole pies here.  We only sell by the slice.”

“Well, I am gonna need two whole pizzas.”

“It’s going to be pretty expensive.”

“I don’t really care, there are some homeless people out here that need to eat.  I need two pizza’s and a large Mountain Dew.”

Jude smiles, while shaking his head.  He tells me it will be a couple minutes before the next pie is out, and he proceeds to ring me up for $91.11.  Damn most expensive pizza’s I have ever paid for.  But whatever, it was birthday money… and what was I going to do?  Probably buy an over priced t-shirt from Ambercrombie, just because it says “Wyoming” across the front?  Yeah, probably.  An Ambercrombie shirt is about as useful as planking.

While all this is happening, Natasha is in the run around of my journey while following what ever this Celestial Whim was.

I got the pizzas and walked back to the two Vet’s  who had their change kicked around.  I stood above them with the boxes of pizza.

“Would you like some pizza?”  I ask.  I am confronted with looks of horror and skepticism.

“Don’t tease us.”  One responds.

“I am not teasing.  Would you like some pizza?”  I open the box and one of the men pulls a piece out, and hands it to the fellow next to him, and shuts the lid to the box.

“You can take more than that… you can take as much as you want.”  I open the box again, and let them take out two pieces each.

The man who had not yet said anything now looks at me with tears in his eyes, and asks “Are you mad at me?”

And in this moment, I know he is not talking to ME, but to the Spirit within me in that moment.  That warm Spirit which was taking over, while I stepped aside and outside above myself, watched and listened as the words “No, I am not mad at you…I love you.”  pour from my lips.  Something I, myself, would NOT have said.  He begins to cry.

I connected with this man’s eyes. I saw his soul and he saw my sacred heart.  I continued down the road, looking for the desolate hovering in corners.  I shared what I have to give.  Few people asked for money, which I did not give, because the goal was to make sure people were fed and monetary charity is not my style.

This all happened in September of 1999.  I had only been at school a few weeks… but this trip changed my life, and it changed me.   School to learn who Christ was, no longer seemed like the real way to experience what that love and compassion are.  I felt stifled living in a bubble of people who tout a title called Christian… but would only actually do service in community a couple times of year.  Helping people seemed like it should be a daily exercise in spiritual growth and development.

The college had some strict rules on leaving campus.  So I lied, and told them I was signing out on the weekend to visit family.  Really I was renting hotel rooms on credit, and using the money I made at the Christian radio station I worked at, to buy bread, peanut butter and jelly; bags of chips, juice boxes, cookies and packages of granola, plastic sammie bags, brown paper lunch sacks and napkins.

Then I would drive it all to Kansas City, and stay for the weekend walking around alone down town, looking for people to feed.  I never felt like I was in any risk of danger, because I was certain whatever was working through me is INVINCIBLE!   It was a huge practice in sacrifice and faith.  It has been from that point on in life that I knew I was to live in Service to Humanity.

I probably took six trips to KC that semester.  One of the excursions a young man, about my age was curious as to what I was doing and why.  And it created the most beautiful dialog, because to him, it made sense.  And in that moment of it making sense, he wanted to give everything he had in order to help.

“Should I give them my money?” He asked.

“I don’t give money.  I will buy something for some one if they express need, however.  I think that charity through money is like trying to build a garden without getting your hands dirty.  It is easy to just give some one some money, and then they go off and buy beer or drugs… you just send them off on their way.  But when you feed a person, or take them to buy something they need, then you are actually participating in service.  You are sharing soul space.”

“Have you ever had anyone be mad at you for not giving them money?”

“Yes.  And I don’t care.  If they get mad they obviously didn’t want what I have to offer.  I can’t offer everything to everybody, but I can share what I do have and try to share it wisely.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”  And when he walked away, I felt certain his heart had been stirred.

Over the years my service has changed shape and form.  But it is the lesson of Christ Consciousness and the Righteous power that we have through harnessing It, which can create a landslide of change in fairly short period of time.

If you believe you live a life of righteous service, and yet you have never felt the Infinite Power of True Selfless Love… you have been living in a delusion, and perhaps you should step outside of your comfort zone for a while.  There is nothing wrong with Humility and there is nothing wrong with getting dirty every once in a while.  Selfless service is rarely a neat and tidy procedure; but I guarantee that afterward you will feel lighter and with a new sense of strength and purpose.

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Moving Forward into “Normal”

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It’s the day after my grandfathers memorial service.  I had a dozen people at our house in order to commune and share food after the small family gathering and 21 gun salute at the cemetery.

A dozen or so people of blood relation, that I do not REALLY know.

And in a way, it kind of doesn’t matter, because when I look into their faces, I see my self.  And I see my history.  I see the individuation of myself spread out in a dozen different but similar faces.   This seems good enough.

Perhaps if I had time with them each, one on one, I would be asking questions and probing for answers on our connections… but I do not have the time for that… and to some degree maybe it isn’t even that important these days.

I use to wonder more about my family, but they aren’t the type to share, “just any story.”   They all have their favorites, their classics, their patchwork of the bigger picture.  Though I find it interesting, it’s the missing pieces I find far more interesting.  I guess that is when I really start to use my imagination.

The ceremony for my grandfather was short and sweet.  Just like him.  I think he approves.

Today is a new day, and there are new patterns to be laid.  New ways we have to go into each moment… because now, for my grandmother, she doesn’t have him to look forward too, despite the depressive nature of sitting in a nursing home watching a person struggle with Dementia.

Today we can be thankful that even though her legs hurt, at least she can still move them; and even though she can’t see well, at least she can still see… and even though she can’t chew so well, she can still chew enough to eat.  And we start to become thankful for what we DO have.  And we appreciate what we have lost, but with new eyes.

Life is never going to be “normal.”  It can only be a dance of balance.  Today is a new day to test the potentials of perception of “normal” and move forward into our own definition.

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At What Point Am I REALLY In Another Dimension… and When Have I REALLY Gone Batshit Crazy.

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Life sure is following it’s own course in my life.  The ups and downs though, have found themselves in synch with a symphony which I know from some other time and reference which is not quite reachable…. and so in that way I am like my grandmother who forgets things.

Today my grandfather died… my aunt, his daughter only died a little less than a month ago… I lost my mother when I was 4, in January of 85, on her mothers birthday…

My family speaks so blatantly through their Spirit, that it seems silly any of them would have sadness…toward Death.

Especially when it is a long, drawn out process…. but they really, the sadness they have, is regret.

Things not done, or said.  Wanting more, choosing to give less.  Asserting Life that did not include those who no longer Live with Us.

This is hard for people.  This is a life transition which holds so much weight.  We weigh out our years and experiences with people.  We weigh ourselves in our present moment and see impact of past…. we want more.

And today, my partner, in a (I think funny way???) asked me if I should get my head checked out.

Death has been a part of my life since before I was old enough to go to Kindergarten.

My most significant point of reference for life, was wiped off the Earth.  My Mother.

I have spent the last 28 years in Reflection, Contemplation, Observation, Critique, Judgment, Assessment and Theory to try and understand some sort of Pattern or Reason to this Malady.

Perhaps you are asking about all the words with capitals, but they have been anthropomorphized by my Experience and therefore Attributes vs. Abstracts.

I have met these Attributes, and I have concluded that Love is Essential.

It is when we are able to see HOW and WHY of any one or thing that Effects Us personally… as to the greater Wisdom.

How does one Create?  One learns how things work and why; their personal influence and it’s Overall Effect on Vision…

Things change.

In my sense of crazy, the voices have gotten stronger…

The premonitions have become more vivid…

People will  tell me to stay off drugs, or to get back on my meds, or to take the tin foil hat off… or whatever…

The voices I have, are of my family on the other side of the veil.

I now have four strong voices in my head…

My mother, who exacerbates my inclinations toward cussing… and loves to love in a sort of crass way… she likes affection, and I fight her.  She also has guided my writing hands for as long as I have chosen to take up writing… which was taught to me by my grandmother, her mother, whose mother (my great grandmother) was a teacher.  My mother also bonds me to her siblings, which other than deep dedication to the understanding, I am like ALL of them in SOME way… I could be seen as reclusive, but also a world Bridger of sorts. My mother set me up to be a world bridger.

My Brother.  My best friend and comrade of youth.  How we tatteled and told so… but he speaks to me through music, as it was a bond, he also tattles through my writing of certain things… and he comes to my dreams in every age of face possible to the incarnation he had in this time.  He was the first death that came through one of my visions.  He showed me something that I would have to be prematurely aware of in order to be able to represent him through my family in their pain… but also to be with them through their pain and NOT be a nutcase.

January of last year, my gramps fell ill… my aunt who had been living at her elderly parents home, was having special treatment for her condition in Denver, 100 miles away.

My cell phone wasn’t working, and neither was the wifi on my computer.  I was about 200 miles away in a rural residential area.  My car was “broken” and I was off grid for a week staying with friends… not really sure what the Universe wanted next.

I picked up a loose WiFi signal from some neighbors and had an hour of internet… I checked my messages and one from my dad said my Grandfather was put in the hospital… I immediately panicked for my Grandma… she is one of the greatest Loves of my life…and for so many reasons.

I had to get my car fixed… some guys who do meth gave it a radiator flush and some other help… I still left with my car smoking and acting funny, only to find out the radiator cap had been left off the car…

I got back into town… my grandma at the hospital with him.. and no one to let the dog out back at her house.

I camped out.  She needed someone there.  I went to her house, and let her dog out, and for the next four months I slept in the same bed as my grandma.  In my grandpas spot, just so she didn’t feel alone,

Sorry to say, but my rather celibate lifestyle and my penchant for sleep masturbation brought an end to that nonsense… I mean I was 31… waking up to MYSELF doing this, with my grams, just a couple feet away on the same mattress, that probably never saw her and her husband knocking’ boots.

Perhaps people just let things slide in the olden days, but I was not okay with it… so the task of cleaning the basement of my aunts hoarding came into play, in order to find a modicum of liberation.

Liberation kind of turned me into a bitchier bitch than I already was…

I got here, to this place, where my grandma needed SOMEONE to just BE there and DO SOMETHING with her… and I threw myself in, so hard.  We played several games of cribbage a day… an old fav of everyone in this house.  Even this was painful… all she could think of was my grandfather and his brother who had only died a year previously.  They had been her partner and opponent.  She was sad… She didn’t like the game as much, even though I was funny and we played hands that were hands neither of us had ever seen.  And, I am pretty sure she had played over  a million hands of cribbage.

I tried really hard.  I knew my aunt was a hoarder before she got there.  She had already been labeled…. While she was in Denver, I talked to her on the phone, and I told her that I believed in her, but she had to let go.  But that I would be there to help her and I had her back… all she had to do was try.

My aunt came home, and I never feel like she “REALLY” tried.  I lost my drive, and gave up on her permission.  I started to go through it anyway and throw away trash… secretly I felt like I was killing her by getting rid of the “filler” that was her material possessions, which mostly just added up in trash shat on by mice or disseminated by meal worms.

I felt like I was digging up a carcass which was pulling out her life force… and, maybe, I guess; because of her condition, I didn’t find pain in it… because I know she wasn’t living or enjoying her present life, and that which she was coveting, was just a past tainted and unattainable.

I kind of feel like I helped my aunt go… but in a very energetic way.  I read her writing and her Spirit was SO MUCH BIGGER and BEAUTIFUL than her ability to exist on this Earth with Dignity.  And that is sad… but truth.  The most honest and beautiful people on this planet, are usually physically and materially less than desirable.  Spirit works in weird ways and our treasures are not of this world… neither are we, to some degree.

The day before my aunt went, I was gifted with a vision… it told me my sister was pregnant with a girl (maybe 2 or 3?) and that my aunt would go.  My sister called me the next morning and I knew her news before she shared… my aunt died later that night.

Most people are not fixated on the Spirit of a person; it isn’t their point of reference for importance.   So when you see another, judgment might make you inclined to be disappointed, it is superficial…  Our Spirit is looking into other Spirits and this is why Love is the transcendent factor.

I judged my aunt for a long time.  She left my cousin, who is five years older , and like a brother to me.  She left him as a near adult, but she left him in her own mess with little to fall back on, but his own reserve and talent.

And he is a success today.  Not only in my eyes, but in the eyes of the community… but what do I wish?

I wish she would have been more honest with herself and those around her.  I wish she would have expressed her intentions.

I wish that I get to see my cousin more often and hang out.. because we get along, and have common interests and history… and we love each other.

My mother, who died when I was four, has whispered in my head, ears and heart; for a VERY LONG time, that We All Just Need To Communicate, And Then The Love Will Come…

And everyone has been fighting it… even me.  I went away from home for a dozen years because I thought I could just Mandie-fest what my family didn’t offer.  While away, I learned I was just enough like each of them, for better or worse, that there was no escape… and when need called me home I HAD TO GO.  I was representing more than myself in a sinking ship.

It’s not because no one tried… it’s just the unintentional anchors are adrift.  We raised a family of amazing, talented, and some what antisocial people.

We raised a family which is so interesting, but also so incongruent.  And that is fine.. but these voices in my head from these people no longer physically incarnate… don’t want it to end like this.  They honor All of It.  And they seem a little forceful to share it, through me….

I want to share it, because I believe it.  I think it is valid and potentially beneficial.  My family is weird and amazing.  I think we could potentially share a lot of great ideas on evolution with one another, IF we could just make the time or share the passion…  It’s what my voices want.

And these voices of my family tell me that they approve and they want to see me truck on… but how far am I willing to go, or try???  My most recent track record finds itself weak and that is a shame… I know I could do better…

Tomorrow, er today is a new day to try and formulate how that can be created.