Choosing to Be....

From what I can see, there are just a few ways that people live their lives. Some people are governed by a God (who can have many names); an entity which is separate from themselves who creates life and death, and everything else that happens within their life. Someone else may operate from a place of 'this is all there is, things happen, nothing really means anything'. And others live their life as the creator of their own realities...

If this last one is YOU, or you would like to begin to live this way and acknowledge that you truly are the SOURCE of the UNIVERSE....then I would like to talk about the infinite possibilities in which we CHOOSE to LIVE.

First, ask yourself; WHAT AM I CHOOSING TO BE IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW? Am I choosing to be the victim? The Persecutor? Or the Rescuer? Am I at the AFFECT of LIFE? Am I the ONLY ONE who realizes how stupid/annoying/heartless people are? Or am I the one who is always HELPING OTHERS?

Secondly; WHAT WOULD I LIKE TO BE? If I could be ANYTHING?! So, the question isn't what career would you like, or what kind of person (kind, fun, creative etc) you want to be, but what is the essence of what you would like to be in your life that you are creating? A connector, a magician, an expression, a healer...

Now- ARE YOU CREATING WHAT YOU WANT? It's simple, yes or no? ;) If it's YES, cool! How does it get even better for you? What would it take for you to have more choice in creating who you are, right now? If NO, that's okay too. Now, what else is possible for you? Could you acknowledge that you have total choice in life (and death for that matter)? What would it take for you to claim and acknowledge that you are the amazing creator that YOU ARE?

If you could claim that you are the creator of your own life, can you also be aware of what you are choosing for your life and your being? Are you choosing to be the SAD, HURT, HARD-DONE BY, CRAZY, FUCKED-UP, MENTALLY UNSTABLE, TORTURED SOUL? If so, could you be WILLING (I didn't say you had to- just be willing) to choose something else? I'm going to take it as a YES, that you'd be willing for another possibility ;) So now IMAGINE for a minute what your life could BE, FEEL, LOOK, SMELL, SOUND like if you chose to be the GREATNESS of YOU; the MAGICAL, POWERFUL, JOYFUL, HEALTHY, CREATIVE, ENERGETIC, PROSPEROUS, CONSCIOUS YOU!!

Now, write it down, paint it, sing it, live it, BE IT! 

Or not. It's your choice, and it's all yours. :)


www.accessconsciousness.com

Anything is possible....?

You know the saying, "Anything is possible". Usually said to encourage a friend who is about to take on a new adventure, hoping for a promotion or going for a job. But who really beleives it? ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE...

Sure, it's possible to get hired over someone with more on-paper experience because "Well Sally, you have so much passion for marketing that I'm sure they will see that!'" And "You just never know, do you?!" But when it comes to us, and our own dreams it's "Oh no, it's unheard of to get a place in that suburb for that price" and "I wish I could just quit and go travelling but I don't have the money...".

'Anything is possible' has limits for us. So really anything is not possible. Somethings happen if you're lucky enough and good enough at it. At what? Wishing? Believing? What about being? We want to believe, like most children allow themselves to believe, that we can do anything, have anything, be anything. But reality tells us that it just isn't so when you grow up. "Money doesn't grow on trees".

What if it did? But is doesn't. What if it did though? But...it doesn't. BUT WHAT IF IT DID?

Ahh, I guess um I would be rich...? I would um, go down to my yard in the morning and pick some money and go out and have breakfast and then I'd, ah maybe go to the movies instead of going to work...maybe.

Wow! What else is possible!?

Ah, well if money grew on trees, we would probably plant more of them instead of chopping them down cause everyone wants more money.

Ha ha! What else?

Ummm, I would fly anywhere in the world, I'd fly to Nepal and backpack up the Himalayas and then I'd travel across to Europe, to France, and I'd eat snails cause I can and I'd stay in the biggest, luscious five star hotel and jump on the bed naked and I'd, I'd fall asleep with a smile on my face....

Wow, sounds like fun.

Yeah but it's not rea-

Ah ah ahh- what if you lived like it was? What if you could create the life you want just by living it?

Hmm. So I can live like money grows on trees without them actually existing...?

They do exist. If you choose them to. What if by you're choosing, they would begin to grow? What if they only do not grow right now because you have not created them and allowed them to exist?

What if all it took, for ANYTHING to BE was the conception as a result of your choosing? 

My Mother Lazarus

I keep dreaming of my mum. Her being slowly comes back into her lifeless body and her eyes gently open. I'm staring at her in amazement. A miracle has occurred!
"Hi mumma" I chirp like a little girl in love.
"Hi baby" she says with such life and affection for me as she always has.
I tell her how I knew she would come back, that I knew she was coming back to visit even if she can't stay. She smiles and we laugh at the infinite possibilities we are both now fully awake to. One can die and return to their body weeks after and live in this world once again, like they never left. Magic is real!

Mumma has such a spark in her that I haven't seen for some time, even before she left her body. It's as if her body is healed and her passion for life revived. She's impatient, she wants to test out her new old body. She's been floating around disembodied for over a month now, which feels like nothing else, weightless and pure, but now back in a pain free body she is excited to play. I warn her to take it easy, it may take a little getting used to. Like when a baby begins to walk, working out their limbs and the laws of gravity. She steadily props herself up and lets her legs hang over the hospital bed. Mum smiles at me, proudly and warmly. With delicacy and precision one by one she plants her feet on the floor. Then with all the strength she can muster she stands up.

It's somewhere around here that I realise I'm dreaming and so everything that follows is not as I hoped. Mum's form changes into a young woman, then a tall man. And the being inside is different too, I realise later on. Then I remember we had mum cremated so it surely would be a miracle if she could come back to her body. All the pieces of dust and ash coming back together from the wind and soil to reform my beautiful mother, Therese. What a sight that would be. What a glorious possibility. And again I remember the conversation mum and I had before she went into the coma. Our last amazing chat.

It was her choice to leave. She didn't commit suicide or request euthanasia, she never said she wanted to die, but in our last conversation I facilitated her into knowing that her life is her own and it is her divine right to be kind to herself and put herself first. Something she had rarely done. She gave and gave and cared and cared and loved and loved. But it was foreign to her to give that gift to herself. I'm so so happy that she chose for her, the kindest and lightest choice she knew.

I wonder if we could all be kind to ourselves for a change. And choose what is most expansive and loving for our being. Even for today.

I'm learning to speak to my mum and listen for her still soft voice in ways that I haven't had to before. Even if it is in a dream for a short time that I get to see her. I'm grateful. She is my angel. My soul sister. My Mother.

R.I.P Therese Mary Burstow
20/05/1956- 19/02/2011

Sorry is not spelt F-U-C-K-Y-O-U

Grammy award winning singer/song writer Tracy Chapman, has a song that says "...words don't come easily, like sorry...". I wonder if she has a hard time with them too, or was it just referring to her lover with the impediment to back down and ask for forgiveness. I was 13 years old, sitting on my bed, Leonardo posters sprawled across my walls and my very private padlocked diary in hand listening to that song, and I felt sympathetic for Tracy. Although I had little concept of what a healthy relationship looked like, or what it was to have my heartbroken I related to her deep sadness of  "...years go by and still words don't come easily...like sorry". I imagined her lover as a handsomely rugged man (unaware at the time that Ms Chapman was gay) who drunkenly fights with her, cheats, lies and then comes back and instead of sincerely apologising charms his way back into her bed and life. And she takes him back, or in Tracy's case, her back, on some hopelessly self deprecating hope that this time her lover will change.

It's a rare thing to forgive someone in our western world. It's not a trait many of us put at the top of our list. And therefore asking for forgiveness isn't either. We don't want to back down because we don't want to be wrong. We hold onto some glimmer that we are justified. And we don't want to forgive because we don't want the message to be 'you can keep hurting me, it's ok'. Like Tracy, we may keep forgiving but be hurting our very selves in the process. And unlike her lover, can we be more willing to admit when we are hurting the ones we love, and have the bravery to say sorry?