A synapsis of how I came to be here with Desteni.

Ok, it is nine o’clock. I need to divide my time more. Write my blog, practice-some, memorize, go to dump, walk dog, look for an article on current events, write news blog, re-read some texts, work on new improve ( have been getting invites to music sites-good exposure) , breath throughout, some house cleaning, yard work. I find if I make a list when I feel overwhelmed I then check my way through what needs to be done.

So, I have been thinking about my parents, this obsession with this relationship, and how I came to be where I am now.
All the events that lead me to ask the question of why I don’t generate the images that suddenly consume me.
The first I remember is when I was about 12.
Then in high school, 10th grade, I was performing and suddenly I was surrounded in a white gritty like light, I looked at this while I played, the class disappeared.
This happened again in my twenties, while in a restaurant.
Then there are moments when I was aware of the presence of something coming. I have a distant relative, who was also involved in music and was gay. He died in Paris, but was a member of an occult society that believed homosexuals were evolved beings, because he could perceive what was coming before it came. I only know this because the a man in the gay community evidently wants to write a book about this relative. So this “presence” thing must be genetic.
Then in my thirties, I had a friend playing with a pendulum, so I started to play with one. I put the pendulum on a map because my husband and I were looking for a house to purchase. The pendulum only wanted to cross the Atlantic. Obviously, I eventually crossed the Atlantic.
I remember giving a message one time, when I felt what was like a “vortex” hole in this person’s back. They told me they had had one of their organs removed.
It seems that just before my husband died in 2000 I had a cluster of these kinds of occurrences. The tree stopping in slow motion, the vortexs around my husband, the ominous presence in the apartment, not being able to hang up my paintings because all I would see is my self taking them down, the voice the night my husband died, saying, “has he done it yet”.
I think this cluster of things is what really brought up the question of generation. I realized that I had had these things happen but they were random, and I could not generate them on a whim. So, they were not me. And then I stayed here, stuck on this question.
Then, I remember my anger, and thinking this can’t be good, no matter what. I applied this same “logic” to a relationship after the death of my husband. I was aware one day that the type of sex ( at the time) was humiliating to me, I really felt like an object and did not remember feeling this in my marriage. Then I realized that I was humiliated, I felt I deserved to be humiliated and punished because of my husband. But, wait, this can’t be a good thing, even if there is some logic out there that says I deserve this. So, I stopped that within my self. I just did not allow it. It took some time.
I did this again when I would long for my husband. I even forced my self to think about someone else. And then one day, it was as thought some strong voice in my self from somewhere said, STOP THINKING ABOUT ME ( meaning the person I was purposefully distracting my self from my husband for) That one was easy, I just stopped. Somehow, it was not nice to imagine old memories. Didn’t understand why.
So, I started reading a lot of different things. I read about the health industry ( which I had somewhat followed for years) I would read whole books about astrology, because I liked the descriptive language and I was somehow drawn to the idea that everything was mapped out, could be mapped out. I read Kyron for a while, and “conversations with God” a number of times. In all this I came across the conspiracy theories and the aliens.
In seeing ghosts, I had realized that some things seemed like an “imprint” more than some actual “entity”. An “entity” responded, an image/movie did not. The alien thing bothered me because so few had seen them. Something was wrong here but I as usual, couldn’t put my finger on it.
The channeled things were weird to me as well. I have been to psychic readings, and even affected by them, but I also would stare at the people. I think it bothered me that it seemed like there was nothing there, I don’t know exactly, but something bothered me about the whole thing. I also want to say that I was a participant.
But in reading Kyron and Conversations with God, I decided it was like reading a computer program book, only bits of information were being given. The whole story was not told, there were too many holes. And besides, the “highs” were not constant, could not be maintained.
So one day I sat on the end of my bed, really sick of all this and asked, where is joy as a constant, which would be a real “joy”, it must be there somewhere, because what is here, what I am can’t be what we are here for. At that moment I decided that I was going to find this “joy” that was a constant- generated by me, that it must be there somewhere, because what was here did not make any sense.

So, when the crystal appeared I had had it. ( But, I don’t want to say that there was not a part of me that hoped that maybe I was special) I suspended everything, not trusting anything and decided to see if someone had an answer and I found Desteni.

Oh, there was another drive here. I wanted to be like Orpheus, I wanted to find Eurydice. I wanted to find my husband, I wanted to go into what was there, that I somehow believed was there and find him and ask him to forgive me. Sound like a fairy tale? Well, yes it is but I was fucking serious. Nothing was going to stop me. The thought even gives me a bad/sad feeling. This thought and these feelings are what has to be forgiven, as well as the role of my self as Orpheus.

I also played with energy. I would trace my meridians and could sometimes feel a “lightness” but it took constant tracing and the movement was very slight. This experience showed me that we were composed of “something” that could move. One time I stopped the asthmatic breathing of my son, from one moment to the next, so I had experienced that this could be done, things could be moved, but this was short lived.

Now most of this I did alone, I never joined a group. I could not talk about this because it was taboo. So, I kept it to my self. After the death of my husband I started talking more, because I had decided that it needed to be talked about. Too much had happened, and there were not any answers and I was tired of being told to stop at that point where things could not be answered.

So, this is a synapsis of how I came to be where I am.


About rebeccakarlendalmas

Desteni I Process Equal Life Foundation livingincome.me eqafe.com
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