The State of One

is just that.  It is, was, and always exists. It is not a consciousness that makes demands. It requires absolutely nothing from you. There are no prerequisites, no conditions to be met. There are no laws or rules. You don’t even have to believe it. It’s helpful for yourself and others to recognize it–even through questioning the very idea–for a number of reasons but you need not:

Transcend where you are.

Ascend to another dimension.

Vibrate at a higher frequency.

Be healed, upgraded, downloaded, or activated.

Try to attain or reach another’s consciousness,

Practice yoga.

Lose your ego.


Wear a specific color or pray a certain way.

Have a master to show you the way.

Or love everyone.

All you need to do is recognize you are connected to everything and everyone around you; all the things you can and cannot see.  Once you recognize that, the rest of life just keeps moving as it has been.  However, how you move with it changes.

You recognize:

Where you are is transcended or transcendent from the last breath you took.

There are not different dimensions, just things you may not be able to see like others can.

Vibration is how everything already moves. You eversofine vibration is your frequency.

You and yourfineselves were upgraded, activated when you were born.

You download the music that let’s you feel the vibration of you and shows it to others through your dance through life. And, that, my dears, is how your eversofine frequency is shared with others.

You are aware, conscious even, that no one else’s consciousness is necessary or attainable.

You realize your body needs your attention and is able to make your dance through this world much more comfortable if you take care of it.  And that when you move it, you are not just feeling your own heart pound (maybe a little too fast?) but that there is another beat in there for someone else. So might incorporate a few downward dogs or do-si-dos into your health routine.

You become aware that leggo-ing the eggo is not complicated, that you are a human, and you have an ego. It helps keep you alive, not an egotist. What’s called the ‘loss of ego’ is recognizing it’s not all about you because you isn’t a solitary speck of humanity flotsam floating alone. And you move through life with that awareness being involved in your choices & actions.

The things above bring the knowing that your choices and actions include those to suffer or cause that to others.  And that leads to knowing you can prayer isn’t about you and what you wear may be but you can fly your own fashion flag as you like.

You’ll notice that in the same way others may not love your clothing choices, you won’t love everyone else.  You’ll just see them and, without attachment or judgment, will recognize them as connected to you and either love them or not.  You’ll be the master of your own domain.  Until you’re not. And, with any luck, you’ll realize that  That’s how we upgrade–we learn something new every day, we reach out to someone else who also doesn’t know a damn thing.

And we dance together.

It’s simple, y’all.  It’s simple.

What Happens?

What happens when your soul
Begins to awaken
Your eyes
And your heart
And the cells of your body
To the great Journey of Love?

First there is wonderful laughter
And probably precious tears

And a hundred sweet promises
And those heroic vows
No one can ever keep.

But still God is delighted and amused
You once tried to be a saint.

What happens when your soul
Begins to awake in this world

To our deep need to love
And serve the Friend?

O the Beloved
Will send you
One of His wonderful, wild companions ~
Like Hafiz.


Fear and Stepping Up

I make a point of putting myself out there in a number of ways.  I want to demystify this ‘healing thing’; create a relationship that hopefully allows others to connect to me or folks like me with trust; provide my own catharsis, and help myself keep it real…nothing like knowing there are a potential few million people who might read what you write and call you on your shit to keep you honest, no?

I hold back on things, though.  The first is how I’ve come to know myself.  In part, I hold back because I can’t quite articulate what I know.  I know (I think, anyway) the meaning behind & within it but I can’t wrap my head around it in a way that makes even sense to me.  If I can’t explain it to myself, I can’t explain it to anyone else.  No need to add to the confusion or otherwise muck it up more, I’ve said to myself & no one else (cue the Neil Diamond, yes?).  I thought I could wait until something (I dunno what) coalesces and later attempt to explain but that misses the whole point of me Stepping Up.

So, I’ve been a chicken.  Big fat lying chicken.  Not an overtly lying chicken but the holding-back, Imawussy type of chicken.  I fully admit that I’ve been afraid.  I’m afraid now.  I’m actually writing this and am going to hit ‘publish’ when I’m finished. ‘Publish’ means I can’t take it back. I can’t go back.  There’s no need to attempt kidding myself or anyone else.  In An UnCommon Experience, I shared an experience that pushed me where I didn’t think I was ready to go.  What I didn’t do was describe the subsequent experience of a week later like I said I was (yep, a wuss there, too). There’s been a progression of things since then culminating in another, more recent, powerful experience.

Two Sundays ago, when in a session with another amazing woman, I got soundly chastised by that voice that’s not a voice, the thought that’s not a thought.  I was clearly told that what I’ve been couching in terms of humility (I’m not special, we’re all just little ordinary people, blah-blah) & awe was not that at all.

I was reminded that it was fear. My fear. No doubt about it.  Good old-fashioned fear.  Fear of what other people will think of me.  Fear of what this means for my life.  Fear of moving into ‘not knowing’ as much as ‘knowing’.  Fear that I’m not cut out for this. Fear that I don’t know what the heck ‘this’ is. Fear that I’ll end up feeling more isolated from most other people than I do already.

Heck, I’m so afraid that I keep getting up and walking away from the computer after I type a sentence or phrase.  It’s taken me weeks of trying to figure it out, being slapped upside the head with a bazillion things that are nothing more than distractions, confronted by my own choices that I allow to hold me back. In fact, two weeks to work up the nerve to write and three days to actually do this.

The truth of the matter is that I’ve been called, pushed and pulled (dragged?) into stepping into me, into who I am, my true power.  I’ve been called to name it, own it, move with it and in it.  And I don’t even know what ‘it’ is.

I know the presences that merged with me two Sundays ago made it clear that I’m no longer able to duck & dodge who I am. “Did you think we’d let you forget?”  I have no connection to the three presences that were identified by the client (who gamely shared this experience with me step-by-step) with one exception. I happen to know of Paramahansa Yogananda because Autobiography of a Yogi is one of the books I bought to try to figure out what’s been going on with me  (I never did finish reading it.).   I’ve heard of Sai Baba somewhere but never of the third that she identified as one of the others’ teachers.  As an aside, I feel presences around me w/ some frequency and I occasionally I assign a personality to them—sometimes I call one Christ b/c it just feels what I think Christ-like is to me in the moment.  However, I don’t generally know a bunch of dead dudes like my friend, Simon.

I really have been afraid.  Without exception, I’ve been afraid to say out loud to another or even to myself that the presence I feel so profoundly—most profoundly during sessions—really is me.  Nothing from outside of me.  All of me.  My within put with-out to be shared.

You know, it has come naturally to me to speak of seeing you and me as the Divine.  To feel that, to know that at this level requires me to relinquish a few things I’ve held onto and admit a few others that I may not have wanted to.   It requires to me stand up and accept that I am special.  That I am extra-ordinary.  The thing is, you wouldn’t think that’s such a hard thing to do but for me it is.

For decades I’ve wanted to feel special. I wanted to hear it from parents, friends, lovers, and with very rare exceptions haven’t.  I’ve certainly known I was different.  That bit couldn’t be missed.  Despite that I still felt invisible.  Still do.  Hell, I feel like screaming “SOMEBODY SEE ME!  FEEL ME!! HELP ME!!!” as much now as I did when I was 2, 10, 12, 20 years old.   (And, when you don’t see me, I’m actually doing that! I mean, not all the time but when the goin’ is rough, oh yes!)

This new reckoning actually really does require me to not give a good shit what others think & put myself out there whether or not anyone will ever see me or, well, give a good shit about me.

The thing is, I really don’t know what this is.  I really don’t know how to articulate it. It’s an experience and a way of being that I never knew about, planned for, sought or imagined.  I don’t know me now.  I don’t know what to do with it.  I don’t know what to do with me.  It’s cool to hear from other’s that they feel God’s presence when in my presence.  A pretty nifty thing. Talk about some validation.  However, to intentionally move to the understanding that what they are feeling isn’t from some idea of God coming to visit while I work, that it is the whole of me–little ol’ Ingrid me—is another thing altogether.  To come right out and say that floors me. I don’t have the presence, it’s not a visitation.  I am it.  I am all of that it.  All of those things that string together these things between us and that are us. And all things. This is who I am.

I’m not a person of faith. I don’t ‘have faith in’ anything.  Never have. I don’t get that concept. I don’t ‘believe in’ anything. I ‘just know’ a lot of stuff but that’s not been much help lately.  I don’t know how else to be.  I do know that how I’ve been ‘be-ing’ me ain’t working so well.  I give in the way I feel I’m supposed to.  I ask questions, I ask guidance and get bupkus.  There’s no ‘fluff-n-stuff’ in how I’m me.  I was actually stunned when a person at my last group session said in response to my question of why they came,  “Well, I looked at your site and it just seemed like it came from the heart. Like it was all you. Not a packaged thing.” I think I looked at him like he had three heads before I replied, “Why would it or I be any other way?”

Why would it be any other way? It’s now time for me to own all of it.  I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know what that means for the rest of my life. I feel afraid. I feel alone. I feel frustrated and am tired of being hungry.   And, there’s so much more I don’t know.

I do know, though, that I’m getting ready to hit “publish”.  Here goes sumpin’.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”

Marianne Williamson got that right.

Becoming Horse

I don’t share with many folk the experiences I have with some frequency; almost daily.  I’m not quite sure why I tend to keep them to myself.  I think there are a combination of factors.  They are at once deeply moving, awe-inspiring, sometimes physically taxing, some more ‘ecstatic’ than others, and seem just for me.  I don’t often try to understand, figure ’em out or connect the dots.  I also don’t connect them to life-stuff, psychic-stuff, spiritual-stuff and other whatnot in the way I think many other people do. And, lately, folks appear to be looking to me for answers and aren’t comfortable in accepting, “I don’t know.”  I find myself using that phrase a lot when it comes to the ‘work’ that I and quite a few others do.  I don’t know what ‘ascension’ is (twelfth floor, please?).  I don’t know your past lives; don’t have any interest in my own.  I don’t know why folks are so interested in understanding a 5th dimension (or if there is one) when we are right here, right now, in this one.  I don’t know why a dog that couldn’t walk now can after I had a mere thought and why a cancerous tumor wouldn’t go away after the same process.  I don’t know a whole heck of a lot and, frankly, don’t care to.  So, I keep a lot to myself.

I’m drawn to share last Wednesday’s experience, though, for some reason.  It’s not the first of its kind but the intensity of it, the expression of it, and the equine company in which it occurred were a first. And, I think, that by sharing my experiences others will find some comfort in knowing they are not alone & they may come to understand, through continued glimpses into my world, how I come to experience the world in my unique way and how I ‘just’ know and trust.

Some may know that I do work with horses working on both the physical and energetic levels; transforming bodies, demeanor, and communion with their humans.  This week I was asked to begin working with a mare named Marge (I know, right?  Who names a champion mare Marge?) She in no way resembles the blue bouffant of the same-named Simpson character.  However, her frenetic behavior might look a little like Homer’s!

There was another person, a trainer named Michelle, with me to hold her still because Marge is a little off the hook—frenetic only half-describes it.  I got started in my normal way and just felt and watched energy move through, in and around.  I talked to her a little, watched her fight & respond, feeling it in her own unique way.

After several minutes, I felt something strange within me—as if it had moved into me–looked to Michelle and said, “Something just moved into me”.  We both noted that was odd because that doesn’t happen when I work.  Things don’t attach themselves to me.  Introduce themselves, yes.  Attach, move into, errrr, nope.  I kept on keeping on and a few minutes later, energy heightened in intensity, and apparently I looked at Michelle and said, “This isn’t me.”   Although I was aware that I was breathing ‘normally’, I was quite certain I would pass out because I wasn’t breathing ‘right’.  I surrendered and began crying—not of sadness, not in connection with the animal’s emotions (that happens with some frequency, especially with those who have been traumatized physically and emotionally—similar to my engagement with humas), but in communion with something entirely different.  I kept working with the heightened energy, the horse relaxed and shifted in her own way to something resembling calm.  The string of moments (I’ve no idea how long the experience continued) was broken only when a truck pulled into the drive.   I brought my bits back together, brought the horse’s bits back together, wiped snot and tears, and tried to gather my conscious thoughts.  The only thing that really gelled was, “HOLY CRAP! What the hell was that about!?”

As Michelle was helping me re-ground with some tea, I told her again that that wasn’t me. That it couldn’t have been. That it felt like Christ himself or the power behind the horse herself stepped into me and that I could no more explain that or what it meant than I could anything else of this strange experience of the world I live in.

When I asked what she felt, Michelle said, “A swirling, powerful peace.”  Again, I thought, “Holy crap” and couldn’t do much more than shake my head and say thank you.

I left shortly after, still trying to mull over in my head the turn of events.  I know better than to try to ‘figure it out’ and I deal with similar experiences daily.  Not this intense, but enough to know to just ‘roll with it’.   However, that was enough to make me sit up and take notice in a slightly different way than ‘usual’.

As I turned onto Atoka Road heading home, though, the voice that’s not a voice, the thought that’s not a thought said, “That IS you.  That is the whole purpose of your being! That IS your being. Know this.”  If it could be given a face, voice, and tone, it would resemble a ‘tut-tutt’-ing, head shaking in exasperation, universal grandmother/father voice.


The next thought—one I have with some frequency—was, “Okay, then.  Now what do I do with that.”

A week later, there have been string of other moments and events that have been built upon this one that I’ll share later.


“Life is like a Mirror…”

“Life is like a mirror: If I smile, the mirror returns to me a smile.  The attitude I take toward life is the same that life will take toward me.”

~ Gandhi

I posted the “What if it really is between the stories?”  a few days ago asking a lot of “what ifs” to hopefully get folks thinking (or not thinking) without demanding they believe it and, frankly, not wanting them to.  Sure, it was nice to read responses that showed I’m not alone on a limb here and that I’m not saying anything original (the reason I won’t write a book, by the way.  There are a bazillion out there already saying the same thing.  We don’t need another tired, old story.  But, I’m not out to persuade anyone to align with my way of thinking, feeling or otherwise experiencing the world in the way  I do.

How Godliness and we appear to me is just different than most.  And, it grows and changes each day into something more spectacular and awe-inspiring. Today, feeling stuck in a rut, though, I wonder why others aren’t willing to see things differently.  Why there is the continued necessity to insist others do and speak in the same way, the need to create ourselves as ‘right’ and then foamenting (new word: think fomenting while frothing at the mouth) anger and hatred.

Again, my experience is different.  I have seen and lived through some shit.  I’ve been brought to my knees in gratitude, grief, and fear of death & pain. I’ve worked with other folks who have perpetrated some horrific terror, those who’ve survived it with a grace even I am awed by. There’s been amazing, awesome, inspiring, heart-rending, humorous, nauseating shit.  And, I know most folks have shared elements of these experiences so I wonder why they can’t see the way I do.   It confuses me.

I wonder why, in all of that, I see them as god, as greatness.  As a reflection of me.  I wonder that I carry that with me & try to behave in a way that reflects that notion and others don’t. Or can’t. I wonder if they can see their own reflection and why they can’t see themselves and others in the way I do.

No, I don’t see auras–pretty plays of color rumored to surround things and people.  I call it seeing through that.  The essence that just is–without stories, behind fear and masks and wordplay and makeup and made-up selves. The brilliance that resembles heat shimmering from asphalt and light but fully encompassing more than that.  The all that is potential and more.

And, on days like today, I wonder why sometimes I see that in myself and sometimes I don’t despite the fact I know it and live in it (albeit in a sometimes ungraceful, freak of nature way).  I wonder why.  Maybe everyone does and that’s why we seem to be in the state we’re in these days.

On being childlike

This post is inspired by two events last week.  The first involved a session with a new client; the second, a reminder from Panache Desai to play like a five-year old.

On Saturday, a new client came to see me for a number of reasons–some shared, some not.  He happens to be an older gentleman, who during the session fully admitted he didn’t want to grow up (although wanted some adult action!)  and, in fact, had a temper tantrum while on the table.

Also on Saturday, Panache put it out there play and enjoy the day. Responses to Panache’s Facebook call to play in a child-like way ranged from the creation of mud pies to brilliant artistry.  Funny reads, inspiring art, and a reminder to me.   Not so much to play in the sense of, well, playing like a child.  But more of what being child-like means (or can mean).  Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m all about mashed potato mountains, Tonkas, Tinker Toys, Centipede, air guitar, Twister, and Barbie’s head on GI Joe’s bod (What? You never did that?).

I think we forget, though, that the most amazing bits of being a child are never lost or even grown out of (we just play differently as adults, don’t we?  Tequila and Twister, anyone? Trade in your Tonka for a Yota yet?).  We just forget how to see as a child sees. Seeing the wondrous nature of the world and people around us:

  • without judgement
  • with an openness not veiled by fear
  • knowing the care and responsibility we share for others
  • with awe
  • with curiosity
  • with gladness and grace
  • with a grin

Reliance on particular aspects of “child”, those that resemble deluded clutching in otherwise grown folks,  hold us back by keeping us afraid.  “I want, I Want, I WANT, I WAAAANT” is one in particular. Think the kid in the grocery store with the embarrassed parent.  We’ve all seen it.  Would you do that now?  Another is the, “No. No. NO. NOOOOOO!!! You can’t have it (or her or him!)!” Imagine me not giving my brother back his Tonka truck with the Barbie-headed GI Joe! We think they work for us.  We think that if we wear down another person or the Universe by saying “I want”, we’re getting our way.  We’re really getting in our way.  When we don’t want to share it/her/him as an adult, we shut ourselves off to everybody–including ourSelf and the thing/person we’re trying to cling onto.

So, yes, Breathe and Be child-like but in the way of seeing the wonder of the world with freshness, curiosity, grace and a big, fat, Cheshire-cat grin!

What do I do?

My boyfriend’s daughter asked him this past weekend what I do. As in what’s it called. Her mother apparently mentioned that it should be called something. As happens a lot of late, I said, “I dunno, really.” Not that I don’t sometimes think the same thing. That ‘it’ should be given a title so that people understand what I do in a word or phrase. Doctor, accounts manager, hedge fund analyst, therapist and the like. We ‘get’ those things.

I generally call myself a healer but that isn’t quite it because it is SO much more. I sometimes call myself a catalyst but that only seems to make sense to me, not others. I might consider calling myself a Transformer if it didn’t bring to mind robotic machines of the same name. Others call me healer, guide, teacher, counselor, coach, channeler, mystic, magic. I just really, honestly, don’t know what this should be called.

I often feel whenever we try to pigeon-hole this Gift with a specific title it’s enormity is lost. I’m not one to trademark it as others have. I find that rather annoying. Although it’s the most amazing, awesome, awe-inspiring, moving, transformational miracle-making, magical, mystical, WOOOOHOOOOOO experience, it really isn’t all that special. It just is.

I just do what I do. Or, rather, I’m a vehicle that something else works through and does through me. I breathe, get mySelf out of the way, and let the God/Source/Universe-thing works its wondrous-ness!

In the same manner that I don’t have a pretty certificate, the Universal HR manager hasn’t given this a nifty job title. There’s not job description except to ‘just do’.

And so I do.