Catpaws Cafe

Random musings from my virtual fountain pen

Archive for the month “May, 2012”

Multi dimentional biscuits?

When my husbands sweet uncle David passed away just after the recent solar eclipse, I decided to bake some biscuits to bring to the wake.  My husband made a restaurant sized thermos flask of gourmet coffee to go with it.  Mourners had been bringing food during the afternoon so it seemed fitting somehow.

I hunted down a basic recepy, went shopping for ingredients and sprang into baking.  I decided to double the quantities, just in case, as I have very little experience baking and although the original said ”12 cookies” I presumed that meant supersized american ones, which I guestimated would make about 50 british sized ones, and I didn’t want to risk any embarrassement of there not being enough…

Our oven is very small, and at 12 minutes a pop… they just kept coming…  5 hours later I sat down and had some late dinner while the last cooled off.

They filled filled 3 large containers!  I wondered to myself what on earth I was going to do with them all.  I’d take one box with us, probably freeze one, but that still left 1/3.  Well, time to pick up hubby from Lola Valentinas Restaurant where he works.  I locked the door as always.  It was a quick turn around and we were back home for him to have a quick shower and change within 10-15 minutes.

As we walked through the door I could only see 2 (two) containers with biscuits.  2.  wtf?  We looked around, but there was only the two.  Hubby looks at me and asks – what did the 3rd one look like?  and as I open my mouth to answer, it drains from my memory and I close it again, swallow, and say -I don’t know.  And feel ever so stupid.

He had his shower.  I kept looking.  We took one of the remaining containers to the wake together with the coffee urn.  The other one is still here.  The third one?  Who knows.  That’s perfectly fine with me.

I half expected it to be at the family home already and someone look at me somewhat bewildered pointing out that we’d brought one over in the afternoon.  Or that it would appear on the kitchen table over night or something.

Time is a funny thing, as is paralell worlds.  Whatever happened, I hope you enjoyed the biscuits and thanx for solving the problem of what to do with them all!  x

 

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biscuit

Gonna get myself (re) connected…

Gonna get myself (re-)connected… 

(Excerpt from The spirit of flying, shared here to reaffirm not all all alien contact experiences need be traumatic.  All of mine have so far been both inspiring and beautiful)

The scene:-

On and off throughout my life I’ve had the ‘’not dreams’’ of being off to an other existence at night.  I described these nocturnal adventures in my old journals, the ones that mostly  like the proverbal  baby should not have gone out with the bath water…  I threw most of them away when I moved to Mexico.  I never wanted to read the laments of my oft tortured being ever again and to read through all of it even once to recover the nuggets (that would prove to be gold) I did not do.  Time was short and there was also the issue of suitcase space.

At one point years earlier I remember finding in a magazine at the quacks or somewhere, a photo of a building that looked so much like the one I so often had visited in spirit at night that my jaw quite literally dropped.  It looked the same, even if the energetic imprint didn’t match.

The nights leading up to attending the Reconnection Healing Workshop in Mexico City in June 2010 was of a similar nature.  Raw by lack of sleep, over exertion and altitude sickness made for some of the worst migraines ever.  I spent the first night in MC too hot, too cold, with diarrhea, nose bleeds, vomiting, cold sweats, slipping in and out of dimensions and remote viewing myself (and others) at far away places.

I felt there were 8-10 entities around me whom I affectionately called the cleaning crew, prepping me for what was to come.  Who (or where from) they were I could only guess at that time.  The following day, after having been thoroughly physically purged, my husband brought me some migraine tablets that stayed down and kicked in.  I even got a much needed hour of sleep.

Tentatively I got up, had a shower and some coffee and toast before venturing out to visit The Blue House, once home to Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, now a museum.

Talk about powerful paintings!  I have never been a visual person At All, (something that all who have known me in person can attest to).  Art to me tend to simply fall in one of three categories; like, don’t like and next.  Music is the medium that has the power to move me.

So behold my surprise when the emotions infused within each of the paintings washed over me, one after another.  It didn’t stop there, things, furniture, corsets and crutches.  All in between frequent trips to the toilets…  tmi perhaps, but I really wasn’t away with the faeries, it was very grounding or at least physical of sorts.

She (Frida) must have really poured her heart and soul into these paintings.  Her feelings and emotions, love and pain clearly palpable in every one .  all in the sentient equivalent of Technicolor.

As me and my husband proceeded through the house my back felt worse and worse and I had to sit or crouch down more and more often.  I mentally kicked myself in the shins for not having been to see the chiropractor before we left Isla, holding out and hoping for a miracle cure to occur at the weekend.  On a scale of one to ten where 10 equals fainting, I persistently hovered around an 8-9, clammy with cold sweat and at times experiencing the tunnel vision that usually precedes fainting in my experience.   Oh well, too bad.

The garden was the most tranquil and serene place one could have wished to find anywhere in a big city and that such a place can exist in a place like MC, second biggest city on earth,  amazed me.  Nor was there any trace of pain or the mental torment said to have followed the frustrated pair of artists who had made their home there.  Not even any  intruding sounds of traffic, just peace, holding space for any visitor to just be.

Closing time was fast approaching so we left  and took a couple of photos of the outside from across the street.  Mario left me leaning against the wall under a tree for shade while getting us some much needed hydration.  Within a couple of minutes the pain in my body had dropped from a 9 to a 2. It was her pain I’d been feeling while we were in the museum!  Funny how that never occurred to me while we were still inside.

Later that evening it was time for me to have the first part of my ‘’reconnection’’ (read Eric Pearls book if you are interested in this process).

The night that followed I once more barely slept at all.  ‘’They’’ were talking at me, showing films and explaining all sorts.  I was only in bed for 4 hours (one of the joys of staying with relatives is the catching up) but the lectures alone went on for way over 8.  Much about what is popularly called quantum science or metaphysics and all very interesting.

Woke up exhausted with what felt like an iron band around my head, pineal and pituitary glands throbbing, nosebleed the minute I rolled over to get up to run to the bathroom retching and the ever present liquid belly (despite the immodium).  Halleluja.  The joys of altitude sickness when you’ve lived your entire life at sea-level paired with high levels of inpouring light…

Spent Saturday and Sunday in the beautiful conference room of a  very posh hotel with hundreds of other practitioners to be from all walks of life.  I had looked forward to this for over a yr and in contrast to having been so open and attentive, I’d barely talked to anyone and no one had talked to me either.  It felt a bit like college and Uni  all over again; ‘’I already have enough friends and no desire to make make more’’.  Well, I do and I deliberately and especially chose to do it here in MC, in the hope that out of all those people with a joint interest in healing there would be one or two at least to connect with, over lunch,  for the weekend or friendship.

I was very disappointed and felt very rejected and tried hard not to show it as I signed the last forms and handed in my name badge before leaving.  It was definitely a challenge not to cry.

I spent a long time being ashamed  of this but here you go.  I have since talked to my soul about this.

Mario had been delayed on the underground on his way to pick me up.  When he turned up he looked like I felt, but for other reasons I will not disclose here.

We took a short walk looking for somewhere to get a coffee.  Near a tree on the tarmac I find a beret shaped cabochon rose-quarts waiting just for me.  A little sign of love from above that I had not been forgotten about, even tho it certainly felt that way.

Ffw to later that night and part 2 of my reconnection.  I’m a little nervous and a bit excited about this one, or rather of how and what will follow.

Four entities come down, 1 to my side and 3 at my feet to start with.  They are The Overssers.  First they start breathing me like I have never breathed before.  My neck is sort of held in an invisible brace, immobilizing my head throughout.  There are adjustments made to the ethereal body in the area of my neck and lower back.

Red and purple dots and beads dance before my closed eyes, later replaced with spring green and pale blue dots and flowers.  My chakras are worked on, the throat, navel/solar plexus, back of throat and finally, just before completed, the heart chakra.  The chakras turn into pulsating balls or spheres of light, 12-15 cm in diameter.

When I (cheeky I admit) want to take a look at what’s going on (with my 3rd eye vision) they switch it off!!

’You are here to bring light and information to the planet’’ they say and make me repeat 3 times.  (very similar to one of the phrases that was given to Eric Pearl).

Now I see 2 pyramids made out of what looks like aluminium/pewter/silver but warmer than any of these in colour.  I am moved closer to the one on the right.  Four saucer shaped crafts (much like the classic ufo’s of early science fiction) decend from above into clear view and just hover there.

About 3 minutes before the whole session comes to an end, I feel something switch on.  There’s no sound, no cogs, no visuals, yet it clearly goes clunk, and with it goes the distinct feeling of turning the mains back on after having done extensive repair works to the wiring of a large house.  One minute it is not there, the next if very definitely is, whatever ‘’it’’ is.

I feel slightly spaced and lightheaded as I get up and the faint smell of sweetcorn lingers,  somewhat puzzling to me.

One more string added to my healing-bow.  And since I chose not to do the advanced course (to be able to facilitate reconnecting other people)  the mystery of what officially went on remains.

What fuels you?

For maaany years now in my own head I’ve loosely classified humans as ”do-ers” and ”socializers”, which sort of corresponds with introvertion and extrovertion.

Let me just first apologize for the undoubtedly many spellos that will follow.  I’m dyslexic and this is a computer default to spanish so according to this, just about every word is spelled wrong…

The Socializers are those who prefer company at all times and their favorite pasttime is what they got their name from; socializing.  Not necessarily gregariously or loud but other peoples company and feedback is like the air that they breathe.

The Doers are the crafters, the problem solvers, the ones who want to feed their soul after a day at work, being required to be (or act) in a way that does not come naturally nor inspires or nourishes their being.  They are creative but only after their bread and butter has been put out of their mind, together with guilt of not wanting to go down the pub after work, often with the same people they’ve just spent 8 hrs being semi-social with.  There is also the guilt and shame for being so different to contend with internally, unvoiced questions like ”why do I crave a bit of change, charge and solitude,  to need to be in my own space on my own?”,  in the perceived guilty company of a good book, nat geo tv or some music of their own choice.

After a little downtime to gather, regroup and sort out their molecules they are quite happy to meet up with and spend time with a few people in a small group, be it a hobby group or coffee or dinner with a chosen few.

These broad categorizations overlap of course.  Just like not every introvert is creative, nor is every extrovert a loudmouth.

The Doers abhor the happy-clappy loudness,  weekends of ”building team-spirit”, of not only enjoying  something but having to be seen to have fun, and convincingly so at that.

The Socializers see nothing odd in and largely enjoy joining in in the happy clappy shouting, whereas someone like me feels  physically ill at the thought of it.  To me that kind of behaviour is not inspiring of anything but baffling at best and ridiculous at worst. Personally I’m very likely to just get up and leave, unless that would inflict some serious damage career wise for my husband or be seen as an unforgivable social faux-pas with his family, who are it should be said very acommodating of my strange ways…

I don’t suffer foolsgladly (or any other way for that matter).  Shouting at me gets the shouter nowhere usually, especially the abusive and insulting kind sometimes favored by sports team coaches (and in the military – at least on tv!)  It does not inspire me to do my best and utmost.  It more often results in a FU followed by and egress.

I can be competitive but years of cycling (which I very much enjoyed at the time, all my coaches were very affable people) revealed I completely lack killer instinct and the singlemindedness it takes to make it to the top of any sport.

Socializers enjoy chit-chatting almost anywhere and anywhen especially when it involves meeting new people.  Doers largely consider that kind of  ‘friendships’ (or aquaintanceship if that were a real word which I think it should be) a waste of time.  With so little time to to nurture their own spirit after work, family and other obligations have claimed their share, spending it on superficialities with strangers is just another serious drain on their energy.  Why spend leisure time on things that makes you feel flat or bore you rather than what replenishes and revitalizes you?  Why indeed.

The following was a deep ”ahaaa” moment of clarification for me personally, observed and put into words by Ms Strickland and quoted by Susan Cain quotes in her book Quiet:-

”It is not that there is no small talk, observes Strickland.  It’s that it comes not at the beginning of conversations but at the end.  In most settings, people use small talk as a way of relaxing into a new relationship, and only after they’re comfortable do they connect more seriously.  Sensitive people do the reverse.  They ”enjoy small talk only after they ahve gone deep” says Strickland.  ”When sensitive people are in environments that nurture their authenticity, they laugh and chitchat just as much as anyone else.”

And to me, that’s just it.

How do you best nurture your self?

 

Catpaw,  22 April 2012.

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