The Year of Living Faithfully

One year today.

I’m sitting here staring at those words, feeling the significance. Thinking of the many nights when I laid awake, wondering how we’d get through. The nights when I couldn’t stand the sound of the juicer, couldn’t bear the sound of her pain, when I went out into the darkness and got down on my knees and looked up at the stars and prayed to make it through another hour.

I’m remembering how much laughter there’s been. Even on the worst days, we always laugh. Often, I sing. I turn on the music and I contort my body into ridiculous poses, just to make her laugh.

She always laughs.

This morning, to celebrate, I sat in Current and said silent prayers of Thanksgiving. In that quiet, I felt so much love that I wept—and then I remembered a story. To be specific, I was shown a story:

It was three weeks after the diagnosis, and we were driving up the mountain from the doctor’s office in Rio to the farm. Helena had undergone ridiculous amounts of tests, multiple doctors’ opinions, and a prescription for chemotherapy. Her sentence was terrifying—begin treatment now, or you’ll be gone in 3 months.

We had made the decision NOT to follow the doctor’s advice. Although we were optimistic about our decision to choose an unconventional therapy, we were still uncertain. As we drove, Helena confessed her fear. “What if we’re too late?  Helena cried. “What if we run out of time?”

I shook my head. I don’t know.

That was when an enormous bank of clouds descended upon the subtropical rainforest. Within 30 seconds, we were enveloped in a fog so thick that we were unable to see more than 3 feet in front of the car. We slowed to a crawl, fearful that the drivers on the switchback road would hit us from behind.

Then the engine began to smoke.

Thick, black smoke was pouring out of the hood of the car, and it began to buck and rock. There wasn’t an exit in sight.

That’s when the engine cut out. Helena looked at me in a panic as the car began slowing to a stop in the middle of that treacherous road, and I silently repeated the prayer of St. Julian of Norwich:

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

Out of the dark, an exit sign appeared. I pointed and shouted, and Helena steered the car down the ramp. The momentum pushed us into a gas station, and we rolled up to the pump. It was the only gas station within 30 kilometers.

After performing an inspection, the mechanic on duty shook his head and admitted that he couldn’t find anything wrong with the car. We thanked him, put the key in the ignition, and the car started without a hitch. As we drove out of the station—I kid you not—the sun came out.

In remembering this story today, I knew that one year ago, this event had been a gift. It was shown to me again today as a reminder that even when the path was unclear, it was our faith that held us through it all. Even in the very worst moments, we have never been alone.

People have written to tell us how much they admire our courage, and I want you to know that it’s not as easy as we make it look. We’ve been afraid, we’ve fought, we said things we never should have. I’ve learned things that I wish I didn’t have to know, but I’m grateful I do.

I’ll be honest with you—if the Mayans were right and the world ends on December 21, I won’t be disappointed. It’s hard down here. Besides, I know that after the dust settles, my sweet girl would be waiting there for me, smiling at me with that mischievous twinkle in her eye.

The truth is, I hope the Mayans were wrong. I’m counting on illumination right here and right now. I’m counting on another 60 years working it out in all of this beautiful mess. I wouldn’t change a thing.

“I choose all.”

–St. Therese

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Expecting the Best

When people don’t hear from us for a while, they get nervous. You’ve all been following our excellent adventure—from urbanites to Brazilian farm girls to Gersonites to Casa-lytes—for nearly 3 years. What a strange and wonderful trip it’s been.

In January 2010 when we took the leap, quit our jobs, and unloaded most of our earthly possessions, you cheered us on. When we left the sexy shores of Copacabana and bought a farm in the mountains, admit it—you freaked out. (Me too!) And when my sweet and spicy Helena received that dreadful diagnosis, I know that your hearts broke that day right along with mine.

You laughed at our enema jokes and you made batches of Hippocrates Soup and held dinners in our honor. You bought us carrots for juicing and sent us jokes to keep us laughing. On the darkest days, I knew you were there.

I love you for that. I will never, ever forget.

I know that this recent chapter has been a stretch for some of you. John of WHO? Does what? Wearing what? But you’ve kept sending us your love and encouragement, no matter how challenged you were by the idea that such a difficult diagnosis could have a spiritual cure.

No scary chemicals, no fancy diets. Just prayer and hopeful expectations.

So for all of you out there who have been preparing yourselves for the worst, I give you this photo. Helena’s still here, rosy-cheeked and laughing, fully devoted to her cure, and still (and these are her words): “A complete pain in the ass.”

Every morning, we wake up expecting the best. Some days are more work than others, but each day we wake up with the expectation that miracles might just happen. Many days, they do.

Is it magical thinking? Does it matter?

I recently explained a reason for believing in an afterlife like this:

“When you think about the idea that after you’re dead, you’re just gone, that there’s nothing more—that the light goes out and your time is up, how do you feel? Kinda sad, right? Now imagine that when your time comes, you’re greeted by every loved one you’ve missed, and they’re waiting for you at a big backyard party with all of your favorite food and music, and it just goes on and on like this forever…which feels better? So until you know for sure, why not pick the option that makes you happiest?”

At the end of November, I will fly to Arizona a full 5 weeks ahead of Helena in order to prepare the way for our return to the US. I wouldn’t have booked the flight if I didn’t expect that she’d be there in January. Although the farm hasn’t sold yet, we continue to believe that the right owner will come along when the timing is right. We’ve found a sweet little house in Arizona in the town where my parents live, and that’s where will stay until the spirit moves us to be elsewhere.

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know that the Present and I have finally made peace. I’ve found the formula. It’s probably going to sound like Chicken Soup for the New Age Soul, but it goes something like this:

Wake up each day expecting the best.

When you’re disappointed by the results, monitor your reaction—NOT your expectations.

Love fiercely.  Laugh fully. Eat what your body needs and be thankful for each bite.

Smile at strangers. Talk to kids and dogs.

Pray each day.

Ask for help. Say please and thank you.

Go to bed grateful for at least one thing each day, no matter how small.

Wake up the next day and vow to do better.

That’s it. Try it tomorrow and thank me when we meet again.

It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for us.

Filling in the Grid: Purpose in Uncertain Times

For the past 3 weeks I’ve been working on an overhaul of Viva Institute’s website. Relaunch was scheduled for last Tuesday, but the task was happily interrupted by a 10 day visit from my parents and a welcome flurry of new clients. Then, just before my parents returned to the States, we received the sad news that Helena’s father suffered two consecutive heart attacks and was in ICU, and everything changed.

Yesterday morning I woke up determined to make it to the finish line. I began tinkering with Viva Institute’s mission statement and the About Us section, something that I’d been avoiding for weeks. I was moving along quickly until I began deleting the words “Viva Institute’s retreat center in the mountains of Brazil.”

As I stared at the screen, every cell in my body swelled with grief.

So much has changed.

For 48 hours, I allowed myself to feel the sorrow of all that we’re going through: Helena’s health, choosing to say goodbye our farm and the dream for our life, and the effort and sheer will of purpose it takes to wake up each day and to remain joyful despite all the uncertainties ahead of us.

Many of you have written to say that you’ve learned so much from our journey, and I am so grateful to know this. Most days, we really do walk the talk. We “keep our vibration high” by focusing on all that’s good in our lives and we do our best not to dwell on the things we can’t control, of which there are many.

There are days when I desperately wish that I could see the finish line—that I could see past that tiny dot on the horizon and know that everything is going to be OK. This is the thought that 70% of the people who call me for readings want the answer to. They call to ask:

Should I accept this job offer?

When will my house be sold?

Did I marry the right person?

What’s my purpose in life?

Will I ever feel happy again?

What they really want to know is, “Are you sure my life is going to work out, or have I totally screwed it up?!”

Sometimes I have the difficult task of telling people what they don’t want to hear, but the guidance I receive helps to fill in the hows and whys of the greater plan for people’s lives in a way that gives the tough times more meaning. The challenges we face are simply building blocks in our soul’s great design.

Yesterday I met a woman who told me that she had an intuitive sense about the plan for her life, and she was doing her best not to “fill in the grid.” It’s New Age speak for trying not to control the outcome, for allowing things to unfold, and to leave room for the magic in life.

What Now?

Bit by bit, our new plan is emerging. The signs have been there that it’s time to return to the US, and step by step, the way is making itself known. Still unknown are questions like “When will the farm be sold?” and “Will this move support Helena’s healing?” and (the scariest) “Will she be here to walk this road with me?”

Some days I long for the paint-by-numbers version of my life, but I know that because of the uncertainty, it gives me more reason to have Faith. It pushes me to squeeze the joy out of every minute I can, and to treat myself and others with compassion and love. Each day, it gives me a reason to wake up and say:

“Go ahead, Life—throw me some glitter. Send me a miracle. Surprise me.”

The rest is just details.

Video Blog: September Sunday

I’m psychic, so I knew you’d want this—today’s vlog begins with a horse eating a watermelon.

September Sunday

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Meditation on Forgiveness: Who’s on YOUR Bus?

One of the biggest gifts about living in Abadiania, Brazil is that I’ve been meeting fascinating, courageous, and beautiful people every single day. During our time here, I’ll do my best to share some of their stories with you. Today I share this meditation exercise as it was told to me by my good friend Jon Peris. He’s a man who inspires me and everyone who meets him. You can see him at 1:08 on this trailer for the documentary on John of God:  HEALING: John of God Documentary

The Bus Theory

The “Bus Theory” is the simple process of sending love to all who we have encountered in our lives, either incarnate (alive) or disincarnate (deceased). This exercise is done alone in meditation, so you do not need for the person to be present in order to experience the healing benefits.

Imagine that you’re a bus driver, and you have the ability to place anyone you want on your bus. Begin by visualizing/envisioning all of the people who are closest to you, including those who have passed. One by one, as they get on board, hug them and thank them for what they mean to you.

You can seat them wherever you’d like—it’s your bus.

Now invite/welcome people who have only been in your life briefly to join you on the bus, and thank them as well. Invite them to take a seat, and place them wherever you’d like to.

Then invite the people you or other people have had a conflict with. Greet them with a hug and say:

“Thank you for being in my life and teaching me what I needed to learn. God bless you. I love you.”

Consider the possibility that everyone you have met and everything that has happened to you in life was agreed upon, by you, before you were born. As you do this exercise, you will find that more and more people will come to mind. Where you place them in the bus may change the more you do this meditation.

How it Works

Here’s an example of how this works in practice, in my friend Jon’s words:

The Bus Theory was explained to a particular individual (name withheld for privacy reasons) while we shared breakfast. She said, “I will do that in meditation before lunch.”

Lunchtime arrived, and as she came in, she said, “I tried that meditation, and I placed my sister in the front rows. It was not possible to hug her–she kept pushing me away.

I told her:  Keep trying.

A few days passed…[the next time I saw her she said] “I’m going home. I will see you when I return [to Abadiania].

When the woman visited the next time, she came straight to me, saying: “You will not believe it! When I saw my sister at the airport, she hugged me, and I was able to do the same…it worked!”

Your Turn

Do you believe that it’s possible to shift a relationship for the better without directly communicating that person? Must forgiveness and acceptance of ourselves be part of the process? Is it possible to heal a relationship simply by working on forgiveness, acceptance and love in your own heart?

Many thanks to my friend Jon, the “Casa Celebrity,” for sharing this story. I owe you French Toast.

Your Stories

Since I began working on this post last week, the topic of forgiveness has been in the air. A student and friend sent me the following story, and I encourage you to share your own in the comment section of this post:

Several years ago I made the difficult decision to end a friendship that was becoming such a negative impact on my life, it was literally making me sick. I loved this person so much and could see the bright qualities she possessed, but the negative at the time was draining so much out of me, I needed to peacefully cut ties and work on healing myself first. Ever since, however, I had always felt that things were unresolved and wanted a way to resolve it…but I was afraid to open those doors again for fear of letting this person bring her negativity back into my life. I would have these intense dreams of arguing with her, then hugging, then arguing again, and after a while, they stopped and I tried to forget.

Over the past two weeks, I ran into one of her friends twice in two different places–and I hadn’t seen her in years! We talked about how my old friend had gotten into a really bad accident recently and it made me want to reach out again and reminded me there was still some healing to do with this person, but I didn’t know if I should contact her. I posed this question to fellow Lightworkers and they reminded me that if I were to contact her, I would need boundaries, but that it would be okay to do so. That night, I had the most incredibly healing dream:

I dreamed that I went over to her house and she was very stand offish and defensive, but I just walked right up to her and gave her the biggest hug, and surrounded her with love and complete understanding and forgiveness for her, myself, and our previous situation. When I woke up that morning, I felt unbelievably rested and rejuvenated…like all was right in the world. (Fellow Lightworkers were right–it was okay to contact her, but the boundaries I chose were physical.)

The really cool thing is, Leigh had been planning on doing a blog about this subject to question whether people can heal relationships on the astral plane. It happened at such perfect timing, the day before she was going to post about this subject! I am so glad I listened to my intuition and shared my story so that this connection could be made. There really are no coincidences!

Video Blog: The Little Lamb Protocol

Lamb Sunday

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The Joyful Terrier Protocol

 

Yesterday Helena posted an update about her new protocol for healing, The Joyful Soul Protocol. Zuca asked if he could post a video blog about life in Abadiania through his eyes. Since he doesn’t have opposable thumbs, I offered to help.

 

Related articles

• Chegamos! (liveyourbliss.wordpress.com)

 

The Soul’s Plan

There is the grid, and then there is off the grid.

There is the plan that the mind constructs about how we will make a living and the kind of person we hope to love; the families we will make, and where and how we will live—and there is the soul’s plan.

Mind occupies itself with the way things should have been and the way things are. It struggles to remain on course, certain that if it can just get back to the original plan, all will be made right again.

The earth will turn and the sun will shine in its favor.

This is how I came to find myself living in a town where cows walk freely down main street side by side with wily street dogs and chickens, gratefully doted on by pilgrims dressed in white. Each morning they stretch and rise and face the day, perhaps hoping to discover where or why things went off course.

They seek the map that will show them how to reconnect the dots. To sort out what pulled life off course: the marriage that broke loose, the bank account that came up empty. The dopamine response that went on strike, the eyes that won’t see, the legs that stopped obeying when it was time to wash up the dinner dishes.

To understand why once healthy cells would stage a mutiny against the host.

Eventually, they come learn that this IS the course. That this is what they’d planned all along. Suddenly the sun changes course and begins to rotate around the earth. The universe looks on from the horizon and nods and smiles:

“Welcome home.”

Recommended Reading: Your Soul’s Plan, by Robert Schwartz

Chegamos!

Translation: “We’ve arrived!”

Just a quick post to let you know that we arrived safely in Abadiania, Brazil, home of John of God. Until November, this will be our home as well.

Move 2012

When we moved into the farm in June 2010, we were followed by a shipping container full of stuff…which was still a dramatic decrease compared to the way we’d lived in the US. On Tuesday afternoon, we managed to fit everything we own into a small truck and one carload.

Meditations for Sleep

Caregivers will tell you that care and concern for your loved one’s physical body is only one part of the role. Loving someone with a serious illness often means helping them to cross through many emotions, sometimes cycling throughout the day. Nighttime can be especially difficult on the emotional and physical body and insomnia is often a result, which is why I began developing these “freestyle” meditations.