Feeling Good About Speaking My Mind
Freedom of Speech
I come from a land where anybody can say pretty much anything.
Generally speaking, there are some things that you would be wise not to say, like, “There’s a bomb in this briefcase” or “I’m going to kill you.” I mean, those are no-brainers, and nobody, wherever they live, should be saying stuff like that.
But what I do appreciate is that I can talk about psychic stuff without being afraid of being burned at the stake. I can talk about religion and spirituality.
I talk about being poor. I talk about being retired. I talk about whatever gender you want to talk about, and I’m okay with it. I am no longer afraid to talk about pretty much anything.
I once was a hippy. I once did drugs. I am now an alcoholic (sober for a lot of years) and a non-smoker (about the same amount of time as being sober because the two activities went hand in hand).
I never had children, but I met one from beyond the veil. His name is Ben. Not having children was a hard one for me to take on in this lifetime. It just never happened. Our home life, we felt, was not conducive to bringing a child up in the right way. Also, there was rampant alcoholism that ran in each of our families. That was stacking the deck for a certainty against any little person that came to us. But even as my fertility went away and I went through menopause, I grieved off and on. Just writing about it right now has brought tears to my eyes. So, yeah, that’s still a tough one for me to talk about.
Note: Channeling follows and is in bold italics.
Ma?
Hi, buddy.
Ma, I’m a grown-ass man.
I know.
I died as a man and continue to be a man, at least until it’s time to upcycle.
That’s an odd choice of words.
What can I say, Ma? You’ve got an odd head.
We should talk more often. Will you give me a hug? I need one right about now.
We paused. And I let loose. I’m still not back to normal. My breath is hitching its way out of sobbing. So, that’s an advantage about visiting with the loved ones you don’t remember knowing. As a psychic, I guarantee they are there. You might not be able to have a hug like I just did or such a nice conversation. By the way, where do you get off using such salty language, Ben?
Hey, you use it. I do, too.
I must have such a mouth on me. I don’t notice it so much. Anyway, if ever you’ve wanted to talk to your loved ones who’ve passed or even, like Ben, relatives before your time, all you need to do is write them a letter. When you write a letter, you don’t expect to “hear” from the recipient until they read it. So, the fact that they don’t answer you in the letter is no problem. Just write a letter. But, more specifically, know that they know you’re saying what you’re saying to them.
You might expect to have a dream shortly afterward with your dearly beloved in it. Depending on whether you get lucid or not, it might either be a dream where Ben, for instance, shows up to do some carpentry work on my house. In the morning, I can say, “Hey, thanks. It was nice seeing you.” Or, like I said, if you get lucid, you’ll know it is a visit while you are having it.
I’ve put a link to the book I read years ago to learn how to have lucid dreams. I remember I was about halfway through reading it, and I started to have them. Every dream I have is not lucid now. For me, they are few and far between, but I know it is possible.
There is an exercise in Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way where you try to calm your inner critic down so that it stops getting in your way. You pretend there is you, and then you pretend that your inner critic is right next to you to give you some lip. Like they always do.
What you do is run a line smack down the middle of a piece of paper. You get to be on the left, and your inner critic gets to be on the right side of the paper. You state your premise. “I am a writer.” Your inner critic starts laughing and says, “You couldn’t write your way out of a paper bag.” Your response is, “I can too!” Your inner critic blows a raspberry. And so it goes. You refute whatever nonsense and fears your inner critic brings up, and at the end of the exercise, you should be able to continue on your path. You might need to do this more than once.
What happened to me is my inner critic got quite voluble. It didn’t seem to be pretend anymore, and this was years before I got psychic. Like I said, you’re born with this stuff, and when the time is right, that psychic side of yourself will emerge. This exercise is similar to the letter you write to your loved one who has passed on. Just don’t be surprised if they have something to say while you are writing the letter.
But the thing is, in the United States, we have that freedom available to us. Freedom of speech. I exercise it regularly for those who don’t have it. I am writing to show them it is possible. I write because I am not afraid. However, to be truthful, even in America, you have to mind where you are and who is around you to gauge whether it is something you want to bring into the conversation.
One of the advantages of being a senior citizen is that I do speak my mind.
By the way, the writing above in the bold italics font? That was channeling from my son Ben.
The Links: Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way Lucid Dreaming by Stephen LaBerge