Day 28: Control

Yesterday morning it came to me that my blog entry should be about Control; but what about it? The lack of it? Letting go of it? I could have sat down to write already after my first session but I was waiting for a better idea, maybe I could find something else to write about, anything! A million other ideas flew through my head but nothing seemed right, and I had this underlying feeling that I had to deal with Control, there was no avoiding it. My day seemed busy and not busy at the same time; moments of free space to run errands and then suddenly slammed with work or kids. At times I thought, “Maybe I’ll leave the blog tonight”, but that didn’t feel right either. I couldn’t understand what was going on; maybe I didn’t want to, but I’m having to learn to accept that it’s not always up to me. So, just as I was getting my kids ready for bed, there it was, the thing I was hiding from, the deepest darkest fear of all; Death!

My daughter was having a hard time and was upset, but she didn’t know why. I tried to help her get to the root of it, but that just seemed to get her even more worked up. She went from angry to an almost crazed silliness and then suddenly to tears. She had cracked, and out it poured; her fear of my death. She was inconsolable. “Never ever die” she said. This was a promise I couldn’t make. I don’t believe that we really die, but we do have to leave this body and this life at some point. There’s no way around that.

Our lungs and our heart are protected by the rib cage, which we can think of either as a house with windows or as a gated prison. If we see the ribs as a house we will breathe love in and then breathe love out through these windows, but if we see it as a prison we will either shut love out, or let it in but never let it out again, then it will suffocate without air. It is possible for a person to remain alive but brain dead for years, it is our heart that leads us, and when it goes we go.

Our first heartbreak occurs when we are born. In the womb we are kept warm, nourished, and close to our mother. Then when we are born, the cord is cut and we feel the cold, we are scared and hungry. We don’t know when our next meal will be and we have to learn to trust that we will be taken care of. It is the first time we experience fear, fear of separation, fear of death.

From the moment of this first separation we try to prevent it from ever happening again. We try to be good children, doing everything we can for our parents love and to keep us close to them, but life is for living and living means moving and growing. As we move and grow we can no longer stay in the same place, we will have to leave and sometimes that means leaving the people we love. But we humans are fighters and we fight till the death for life, believing that we are in control of what will happen. But we can’t control everything. Tornadoes can happen in minutes, hurricanes can suddenly change paths, cars and airplanes crash, wars kill, and people can drop dead at any moment, all without our permission.

As a society of humans we must accept the inevitability of death. It is not something we can fight. The only thing we can do is to let go and live life to the fullest. Living life to the fullest is loving to the fullest. To love yourself and to love others without the fear of them leaving is easier said than done, as my daughter was reminding me yesterday.

The first time I met death was at the age of 19. It was in Queens, NY, on my way into the city with a friend. I thought we would take the subway but he suggested I drive since I had my car. I had a very bad feeling about this but did it anyway. Later we’re driving down the street when my friend tells me to make a turn at the light. “Are you sure?” I say with a forbidding feeling inside. “Yes” he replies. I make the turn, and as I do I think, “I hope we make it around.”  The next thing I remember, I’m in a beautiful white light. Then I heard myself say, “Come on, you’re not supposed to be here. Open your eyes!” I opened my eyes. Stuart was not there, I climbed out of the window and saw that my car looked like an accordion. Stuart arrived back and was shocked to see me standing there. “What happened?” I asked him… He said I wasn’t breathing and he ran for help.

Two years earlier, my brother had just come home from a trip to NYC and told me that a woman he met had a vision of a young girl around 18 or 19 driving a red car, with a young man in the passenger seat, there would be an accident and the girl would die. At the time it scared me but I brushed it off. And now here I was, looking at the red accordion in front of me that had been my car. I may have been meant to die that day, but I was still there.

I never thought much about that night afterwards (the experience was almost surreal, and as I had just moved to NYC a month before I was busy trying to find my way), until 2 years later when I realized I was psychic. It happened when I was just looking at a friend and I began to see pictures around him. I described them to him and he told me it was his ex-girlfriend. It was fascinating and fun and after practicing over and over with my friends, not only could I see people’s pasts, but I could see their futures. However, it became frustrating when I could see where they were heading but couldn’t stop them. It was heartbreaking to see abuse and pain in people’s pasts and not to be able to prevent it. I wanted to stop the pain. And then I had 2 friends who died young, one at 28, and the other suddenly at 33, leaving his 2 small children behind. I couldn’t let this go, I couldn’t accept it. I thought it was unfair and I was angry. Why could I not stop it!

Then many years later, even having this psychic ability and with the understanding of energy healing, I still could not prevent the 3 miscarriages that I had. It was so painful to carry 3 dead babies inside of me. The third one I birthed out and then buried under the coconut tree in our garden. I was powerless and forced to accept that life was bigger then me. I would have to let go, and as I did a beautiful lesson came to me. This baby had come to help me, not to tear me apart. This baby had traveled a great distance to help me understand that even if things were not the way I thought they should be, it was not bringing a baby to full term that was important, but that every moment in life is perfect and complete in itself. I saw that I had not been loving myself ‘no matter what,’ only if I were perfect, and I needed to see that my life force inside of me is beautiful in every way, and to let it out and let it shine.

And then a year and half later when I was pregnant and about to give birth in NYC, hurricane Sandy hit. The power went out in lower Manhattan, where we live. The bridges were all closed and we had no electricity or water. I woke up in the middle of the storm and realized that the baby was coming. I felt a peace wash over me. Something inside knew we would be ok. I called the midwife and – miracle upon miracle – she made it across the Brooklyn bridge without flying off in the wind, climbed up 9 floors in the dark, and 40 minutes after she arrived my baby was born; on my very own birthday! All the signs pointed to this being a new beginning. A chance to re-start.

And as I sit here now and go back over all these experiences, the same lesson comes to me; to open up and let go. There is no death, just the death of the ego. Life continues. Closing my heart only keeps me sad and lonely. I cannot stop the wind or the rain or anything in nature, including myself. I can only trust that life has a plan, and time and time again, I see that it does. I may not always like it but I can’t stop it. I can only accept it and change my feelings towards it, and therein lies my power: how I choose to see things and how I feel about them.

So I let go and accept things as they come and allow love into my life in all shapes and sizes, knowing that every situation is Love. I breathe Love in and I breathe Love out, knowing that Love is always there guiding and giving, as long as we let it in.

with love,


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