I AM
abundance
Monday, December 5, 2016
Monday, November 28, 2016
Saying goodbye
Wednesday was the worst day of my life. It was the day we said goodbye to our beloved French bulldog. He was 12 years old and had a massive tumour growing out of his right foreleg, a large one at his throat and other smaller ones on his head and neck. He was losing weight but his coat was beautifully glossy and soft which was remarkable since throughout his life he had suffered with allergies and skin problems which caused his fur to fall out, leaving bald patches. But even though his coat looked healthy, he was terminally ill and he wasn't going to get better. He could not stand for long as he couldn't put any weight on his right leg and so we fed him by hand - meat and vegetables - and carried him to the garden. Every night he would sleep on my bed except when I had to get up very early and he was keeping me awake because he used to pant and move around sometimes when he was in pain and the drugs hadn't started working. Then he would sleep with my son or a few times with my father. Most of the time he seemed to be free of pain but some days he would cry and then we would question whether we were doing the right thing by keeping him alive. We came very close to putting him to sleep in September but we were all relieved when the vet called to say that she had been held up and so couldn't keep the appointment at our house. We were all happy that fate or God had stepped in to give us more time with him.
But this week we all agreed it was time because he was clearly suffering and his leg was now infected. Also, I was afraid that he might suffocate as his breathing was loud and irregular. This woke me at night, perhaps because I was sensitive to him as with a baby and I didn't sleep deeply. I had to make sure he didn't fall off the bed if he decided he wanted to get down which he occasionally did. But I didn't mind looking after him. I loved to take care of him but the hard thing to accept was that he wasn't getting better from our care and we asked ourselves if allowing him to continue in this way wasn't selfish. We didn't really know how much pain he was in. He had good days and bad days. Sometimes, I would come home and my parents told me he had cried all day, even after being given painkillers. Other days he would have no drugs and be calm and almost like his old self. He would take himself down to the garden sometimes and just the other day I was telling him and my son how amazing and how brave he was and he looked proud and jogged a little and jumped up the step onto the patio. He was amazing!
He was really my parents' dog but even before we moved to Spain during our holidays we would visit and I remember him as a puppy so small and vulnerable. I remember lying on the sofa with him one afternoon and cuddling him. I can't explain why but I know something happened. It was like a heart to heart connection was made between us. I suppose, looking back, perhaps I bonded with him as though he were my baby. I remember being excited to take him out in my arms to show him the countryside around our home. My parents said he was afraid to go out but he wasn't with me. As he got older, our walks became a special time that we shared. Our return to England was a painful separation. I missed him terribly and my parents said he just sat staring at the gate waiting for us to return. He was certainly a deciding factor in my decision to move to Spain because then I got to be with him all the time. I adored him and he adored me. I had never felt such a strong bond with any of my pets before him, as much as I loved them.
He loved to have his chest scratched and when we went out in the car to the park or to the mountains, he would sit next to me and if I stopped scratching he would paw me until I started again. He had his own internal GPS because wherever we went for a walk he knew which way led back to the car and would always choose to go the opposite way. I think he would have been happy to walk for hours if I had been able to. We were always out for much longer than when my father took him for a walk because we both enjoyed it. With him I felt like we were going on an adventure, as though we were somewhere strange and were exploring it for the first time. Sometimes we got lost in the orange groves - well, not lost exactly, but one time I couldn't find the way out of the maze and he must have been there before because he led the way back to "civilisation". He looked after me as I looked after him.
So it was an agony to say goodbye to him last Wednesday evening. It broke my heart. People can tell you it's the right thing to do but it still feels like a betrayal. In the stages of grief, I am far from acceptance. I just want him back and to see him again. But I know I will never hold him in my arms again. So I will sleep with his blanket over me, walk in the countryside imagining he is at my side and pray that I will see him in my dreams so that I can tell him I'm sorry and that I will always love him, my beautiful babydog.
But this week we all agreed it was time because he was clearly suffering and his leg was now infected. Also, I was afraid that he might suffocate as his breathing was loud and irregular. This woke me at night, perhaps because I was sensitive to him as with a baby and I didn't sleep deeply. I had to make sure he didn't fall off the bed if he decided he wanted to get down which he occasionally did. But I didn't mind looking after him. I loved to take care of him but the hard thing to accept was that he wasn't getting better from our care and we asked ourselves if allowing him to continue in this way wasn't selfish. We didn't really know how much pain he was in. He had good days and bad days. Sometimes, I would come home and my parents told me he had cried all day, even after being given painkillers. Other days he would have no drugs and be calm and almost like his old self. He would take himself down to the garden sometimes and just the other day I was telling him and my son how amazing and how brave he was and he looked proud and jogged a little and jumped up the step onto the patio. He was amazing!
He was really my parents' dog but even before we moved to Spain during our holidays we would visit and I remember him as a puppy so small and vulnerable. I remember lying on the sofa with him one afternoon and cuddling him. I can't explain why but I know something happened. It was like a heart to heart connection was made between us. I suppose, looking back, perhaps I bonded with him as though he were my baby. I remember being excited to take him out in my arms to show him the countryside around our home. My parents said he was afraid to go out but he wasn't with me. As he got older, our walks became a special time that we shared. Our return to England was a painful separation. I missed him terribly and my parents said he just sat staring at the gate waiting for us to return. He was certainly a deciding factor in my decision to move to Spain because then I got to be with him all the time. I adored him and he adored me. I had never felt such a strong bond with any of my pets before him, as much as I loved them.
He loved to have his chest scratched and when we went out in the car to the park or to the mountains, he would sit next to me and if I stopped scratching he would paw me until I started again. He had his own internal GPS because wherever we went for a walk he knew which way led back to the car and would always choose to go the opposite way. I think he would have been happy to walk for hours if I had been able to. We were always out for much longer than when my father took him for a walk because we both enjoyed it. With him I felt like we were going on an adventure, as though we were somewhere strange and were exploring it for the first time. Sometimes we got lost in the orange groves - well, not lost exactly, but one time I couldn't find the way out of the maze and he must have been there before because he led the way back to "civilisation". He looked after me as I looked after him.
So it was an agony to say goodbye to him last Wednesday evening. It broke my heart. People can tell you it's the right thing to do but it still feels like a betrayal. In the stages of grief, I am far from acceptance. I just want him back and to see him again. But I know I will never hold him in my arms again. So I will sleep with his blanket over me, walk in the countryside imagining he is at my side and pray that I will see him in my dreams so that I can tell him I'm sorry and that I will always love him, my beautiful babydog.
Stitch - named after a character from the Disney film, Lilo and Stitch, because he looked like the blue alien with the big ears, wide mouth and button nose, especially when he was a puppy
Stitchy, Stitchypoo
Stitchy the Fish, Fish Dog (he was a Pisces)
(The) Snorts - because he always snorted like a truffle pig
The Snortanator - because he used to headbutt the door open with quite a force - he hated closed doors
Sir Snortsalot (my son's invention, a variation on Sir Lancelot)
Mister Bolchek (said with a Russian accent) which came from him repeatedly checking his bowl in case someone had put some more food in it and that when we called out "bowl check!" he would come running to his bowl
Babydog
Stitchybaby - when sung to the tune of "Santa Baby" at Christmas time
He loved mandarins - of course, he was a Valencian dog - and roast chicken. He loved roast chicken so much that he would sit staring at the counter in reverence, at the place where the chicken was, long after we had finished dinner. Hence the use of the term, "Chicken God" when referring to Stitch's passion for roast chicken.
He loved mandarins - of course, he was a Valencian dog - and roast chicken. He loved roast chicken so much that he would sit staring at the counter in reverence, at the place where the chicken was, long after we had finished dinner. Hence the use of the term, "Chicken God" when referring to Stitch's passion for roast chicken.
Friday, October 21, 2016
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Las llaves de inconsciente - Marly Kuenerz
Mi amiga me ha enviado este video hoy. Quiero sanar. Las heridas de los padres y de los padres de los padres.. Mi amiga me contó su experiencia con un taller de las constelaciones familiares y que esto puede ayudarme también. Es la primera vez que he oido de eso.
Saturday, April 16, 2016
Trust yourself
Subtitles in English
With so many people now using the internet, the number of people touting conspiracy theories has exploded and paranoia is at an all-time high. It's more difficult than ever to tell fact from fiction especially when there's money to be made from the conspiracy market. Add to that an unhealthy helping of disinformation and agent provocateurs and you have people turning on each other and accusing this or that person or group of being illuminati shills or false prophets. Those that disdain the alternative media are not much better off with the mainstream news sources who are being exposed for their biased reporting that clearly represents their paymasters interests and is a pathetic attempt to prop up the crumbling status quo.
Therefore, it's more important than ever to step back from it all, breathe, ground yourself in nature and give thanks for our blessings, especially of family and those we love. In this way we can find a quiet space to listen to the guidance coming from our inner wisdom instead of listening to the voices outside of us that may be misguided, dishonest or intentionally misleading. We can learn to trust our own guidance system that tells us when a piece of information is true or not. We can learn discernment and realise we are free to take information from many different sources without feeling that we have to subscribe to any organisation, religious sect or belief system that will restrict us.
People like Teal Swan are not wiser than anyone else. In electing to become spiritual teachers they have not chosen to be one who imparts knowledge to others more ignorant than they but to be one who reminds us of what we have forgotten. This is why, when you hear something that is true you can feel your heart knows it to be so and even your body will seem to resonate with that truth.
To believe that a person cannot connect to God/Source himself and instead must go through an intermediary, such as a priest or a guru, he is handing his power over to that person or persons and affirming his belief in a hierarchy as well as his belief that he is inferior to those higher than himself in that hierarchical structure. This could not be further from the truth but nevertheless it has been used as a mechanism of control for possibly hundreds of thousands of years. For me this is the most important message in the video: that the Illuminati, or those who seek to control us, wish to keep us in ignorance of our own power. They want to keep us looking outside of ourselves for the answers to all of our questions. They don't want us to trust ourselves that we know what is best for us. And many do not know what is best because they haven't been used to listening to the quiet voice inside them, or their gut feelings or intuitions. But when they begin to do so they realise that they do know what is best, not for everyone, but for themselves and their children.
We are god. This is not blasphemy, This is truth. We are a each a part of the one creator that has chosen to experience itself as separate entities. We are creators and as such we hold the power. It is true that in our limited form we are not omnipotent, omniscient nor omnipresent (although there are those who claim to have knowledge of bilocation) but we do have access to higher knowledge and an inner wisdom that is beyond what we have been taught. This power to connect with God, with the God within, to our intuitive knowing, is what we have been made to forget and this is what we need to remember in order to become free. By gradually taking responsibility for ourselves, we are affirming our belief in our own power. We have forgotten who we are and we don't trust ourselves. Every day we hand our trust over to others who have abused that trust and every day the enormous extent of that abuse is being revealed.
Where I may part company with the new age movement, if I must call it that (I hate labels), is due to its persistent message that one should only focus on the positive. This would appear to be very good advice on the surface given the preponderance of negativity in all of its manifestations that exists in our world. But to me this is false because we are made up of darkness and light - yin and yang - positive and negative. That is who we are and we cannot ignore that part of ourselves that we consider negative. That part will not disappear because we ignore it. It is a part of us and it will only make itself more apparent to us if we try to pretend it doesn't exist. In my personal experience while I was studying the Abraham-Hicks material, I followed the direction to focus on the positive in order to attract positive experiences and people into my life. Abraham teaches us to be aware that focusing on negative beliefs would attract unwanted negative experiences and people into our lives. So I followed this advice for a couple of years and found that my life was better and I was attracting nicer experiences. But after a while, I felt that I hit a wall and progress stopped. Despite my efforts to focus positively, I had an underlying feeling of unease, that something wasn't right. I didn't feel a deep sense of contentment which I associate with true happiness, but only fleeting moments of joy which didn't last. I felt like I was faking it and became disillusioned with my practice. A piece of the puzzle was missing.
I have since come to realise that the reason I felt uneasy was because I was in effect abandoning a large part of myself. I know I cannot run away from those aspects of myself that I consider to be negative. They are a part of me and make me who I am. I have realised that my darkness is my strength. To become whole, I must integrate all the fragments of my consciousness and love them as I would love all of my children, unconditionally. Then I can stand in my power.
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