Life Paths

When I studied with Michael Bookbinder, I promised not to write about and publish what I learned. This was in 1978. Since then, he died, and Dan Millman, the author of “The Way of the Peaceful Warrior,” wrote an astonishingly well-done book called, “The Life You Were Born to Live – A guide to finding your life purpose.” You can get the book online through Amazon or Barnes and Noble, or, for your immediate gratification, from the Barnes and Noble in Hadley, MA.

Prior to my awareness of it, I wrote the following article. Which I share with anybody who wants to know about it. It has become one of my staples in working with people, regardless of whether they are a client, an acquaintance, a relative, or friend. I find it profoundly helpful in cutting to the chase with regard to assisting a person in feeling more comfortable in their skin and lives, by embracing and accepting what they’re here to ultimately learn about. For those of you who are practitioners, or just want to know, I encourage you to get the book, otherwise, enjoy my article!

Swimming

I successfully swam without Thia’s assistance three times this week. I have manifested Pat, a woman who got diagnosed with MS and was told that she only had five years to live, to assist me on the post-swim end of things. It is becoming increasingly clear to me that the Chinese proverb Emily sent me about life being like an echo, really does hold true…what you put out comes back.

The conglomerate of elderly women in the locker room is eager to help me. I find this endearing. My ability to get off the Hoyer lift – and stand – is exciting! So much so that when I did, I had to pause, because I was in a degree of disbelief.

The Visit

          How does it happen our lives can be reduced to a single bed, the television, and a few keepsakes? I couldn’t even tell where my mother kept her clothes; the space she was sharing was so small. I was glad to see the familiar collection of owls, the photograph of Eleanor Roosevelt, and a few plants on the windowsill. And I was glad to see her. It had been six months.

          “What are you looking at?” she snapped at me when I first went into her room.

          I had prepared myself for her having a very short memory.  I had prepared myself for her being in a wheelchair and watching television all day. But I hadn’t prepared myself to deal with a mother who had become a mean person.