Catpaws Cafe

Random musings from my virtual fountain pen

Archive for the tag “love”

Red’ed, Rojito update

Red is doing very well, he’s got his appetite back (and then some!) but he is still very skinny. I guess putting some meat back on the bones needs to happen slowly rather than fat.IMG_20160420_171125

He’s such a writer’s cat: he sleeps when I work and only ever interrupts if I’m late with their dinner.

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Being greeted with his sweet little face (and Milou and Tabita) in the morning reminds me that every day together is a bonus, a gift of allowing us to love them.

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Rojito, our miracle cat

Red

Tabi and Rojito, a few months ago.

This is our Miracle cat, Red’ed or Rojito, meaning little red in spanish.

Red and Blondi were left behind when their family moved away. For approx. six months living the indoor life, the next fending for themselves on the street.

Little by little they began to trust us, and found our kitchen a safe place to sleep, hang out, and get a little food. Blondi was the shyer or the two: never wanting to be touched but happy to play with Tabita. Needless to say, they’ve been my saving grace being stuck in the house providing me entertainment and company.
Then about a month ago Blondi was gone and and a week later Red disappeared too. And most cats in the ‘hood, a neighbourhood dominated by cats. We were left coming to terms with not expecting to see either of them again.

Sweet Blondi

This is Blondi, Red’s brother, a month before he disappeared.  Gentle, shy and a picture of health.  How anyone can consider such beautiful beings vermin and kill them is beyond comprehension.

Thus I was overjoyed to see Red come through the door but it quickly turned to heartbreak seeing his condition. He can only be described as a skeleton with fur. He was weak but he’d come to us for help. Make no mistake, we are his furever home for as long as he wants it to be.

So why didn’t I rush him to a vet? It was Sunday evening. I got one leg in a cast and need help to get out – but who and where? My husband have been working for four weeks without a day off. The language barrier were I to go on my own in taxi etc. And of course lack of money. Red did not appear to be in any acute pain, though I know cats have a very high pain tolerance level. I don’t know where he’d been or come from or how he’d made it back. He was very weak and coughing blood. Frankly, we didn’t think he’d make it through the night and didn’t want to break his trust by putting him in a box, in a taxi, to spend it in a steel cage surrounded by fear and strangers. If he was going to make it he’d pull through, and if he didn’t, he would die at home surrounded by love and friends. He picked his spot – my floor cushion by the back door – opposite the bedroom.

I sponge bathe him when too weak to groom, scratched when it looks like he’s got an itch. Fed him scraped fish mixed with water every two hours and whatever else he’d eat. Sometimes a teaspoon, sometimes a tablespoon. One day at a time.

The basics; Red is approximately a year and a half. Now if someone told me he was 15 I’d believe it. That is how much he has aged in the week he was missing thanx to human cruelty. He eats very little but he eats. He drinks. Goes to the sandbox. He coughs but he’s stopped coughing blood. From a healthy and well muscled young male to an affectionate ghost of his former self.  I can only presume that the newest cat-hating neighbour followed up on his threat to put out food laced with rat poison “to get rid of the kittens” he called vermin.

Red is such a little fighter. He’s come so far. I’d like to take him to a vet still to be checked over and get whatever extras he needs to help recover his health. Without it there’s no knowing what internal damage has been done. He finally started grooming again last night so after two weeks of round the clock watching and worry, I’m beginning to relax a little.

I used to say If you can’t afford to take your charges to the vet, don’t have any. But my vulnerable heart can not turn away a cat in need at my door. I can not close the door and say go away you are not my responsibility. I will do what little I can to help, and right now it isn’t a lot. Clean any wounds, put vegetable oil on ticks and a bit of kibble, and always have clean water available outside for any passing cat or dog.

We struggled to find the money to feed us all at times but somehow we do, we find a way. Now there’s only three left and I desperately want to find somewhere else that is safer for the cats and move. I feed them and keep them in at night because that is all I can do.

I wish I was in a financial situation where I could do more. I wish I had the money to donate to every free clinic there is and sponsor opening ones where there aren’t any. I wish I had the language skills to enthuse locals about trap- spay or neuter – release. I wish I had the energy to volunteer endlessly. I wish I had a car to pick up and bring those who need help to make it to a vet clinic.

Most of all I wish I lived in a world where respect for all life was the norm and sick care and health care was free and available to all everywhere.

If I put this on my fb page I’ll have to deal with “How dare you ask for money and help again – you should be ashamed of yourself” so no gofundme. If you want to help, please help. If you don’t, then don’t. I understand and I won’t judge you. The cats will be very grateful if you do. If you can and want to help go to the top of the page to “Other ways to connect” and then click on Miaowser’s fund. It will take you to paypal. And like the Tesco add says, every little helps.  On behalf of Red and us, thank you for reading.

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Red, now, back for two weeks.

Life after Miaowser

Been drinking a lot of tea recently, the English soother of all ails.  Only it does not seem to do much.  I’m not coping very well with losing my best friend.  It could be the horrific circumstances that like a tape-loop keeps rerunning endlessly whenever I’m not actively engaged in other things.

It is not at the times when we feel the most lonely we miss someone the most and that we cry; it’s when we feel them near, their presence, their love.  I learnt that last year.

One of the times when I sat outside with said mug, diluting it’s contents with my tears, looking at the flowerbed where Miaowser used to hide and play, and where she now rests beneath the same blooms, I had the idea of writing an ebook.  I felt her spirit nearby and the title “Love is all that matters” appeared in my mind.  So that’s what I’ll try to do.  I’ll make it free to download for anyone who has ever loved and felt lost and left behind by their loved ones departure.  I’ll add a donate button at the end, then people can make a donation to Miaowsers Fund if they feel so inclined.
The book won’t be ready in a hurry.  I’m far too churned up and raw a mess for that.  Word by word, page by page.  Maybe that will exorcise the terrors of her last hour with us.

So I asked her, – what would you like to help fund, Kitkit?  Veterinary care for those who can’t afford it?  Food for feeding strays?  Homes for all cats?
– I’d like a fund to look after you.  Came the quiet answer.
Oh. my.  That was so unexpected I knew it was true.  Oh Miaowser, I cried.  I miss you so much.  A fresh wave of tears flooded my eyes and I was enveloped in the love behind that statement.
– Of course I am here!  Do you remember back in 1998 after Solveig died; hearing her say “I can help you more from where I am now than I ever could incarnate”, or words to that effect?  It’s a bit like that.  I have to go now, but at the same time I am always with you.
– I know Kitkit, I know.

After Miao departed I’ve had bloodcurdling nightmares when I can sleep at all.
I don’t want to be sad forever.  I don’t want to be depressed.  I don’t want the nightmares to continue indefinitely.  These are not judgements, they are preferences.
I know out of our love a different connection that defies time and space will be forged, and in a different way we will meet again in the dreamtime.  But I’m not there yet.  The grief is still raw as can be and often overwhelming.

Understanding might be overrated but personally I have found that I can accept almost anything If I understand why.  I would like to see someone Miao loved, to help me understand and move forward once more.  When she heard her voice she’d almost dance around the kitchen looking so radiant and excited.

Thus I’ve tentatively taken the steps to set it up.  If you go to “Other ways to connect” you’ll see newly added “Miaowsers Fund” and a donate button that will take you to paypal if you click on it.

There IS life after Miaowser.  I just have to find my way there.

Milou and the flowers

Milou and the flowers

War & Grief

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That fateful night, as I held the cooling body of my best friend, my heart breaking and tears streaming, the primitive part of me wanted to run out and pulp the dogs with any blunt object I could find.

Then I hear her beautifull voice saying quietly “No.  That is war on a microcosmic level.  To have peace you have to be peace.”  This statement was followed by a wave of love, and of course more tears as I knew the truth of her words.

I still fight the urge now and then, when the dogs break into one of their barking frenzies and I feel donkey-kicked in the gut, the memory still raw and vivid.
War is not the answer.  It will not solve anything.  It will not take away the pain.  It will not bring her back.  Every day I’m trying my best to honor her memory and the love we shared by being peace.

So I allow the tears to flow.  I allow myself to grieve like I have never allowed myself before.  Without time restraints, and silencing the voices in my head telling me to pull myself together;  that I should be done with it by now, and not caring what anyone else thinks.  I am aware that I am grieving also for the future moments we didn’t get to have, and the memories we never will have a chance to make.

But this I know; if we, humanity, could say no with as much integrity as Miaowser showed me, the world would become a very different place.  Because there is no aggression in her boundary, an inarguable no.  Centered, in focus, the unassailable truth.
There will be no war.
There can’t be, if we don’t want to fight.  It can not come from screaming NOOOOOO! fuelled by anger or rage.  It has to come from a No.  Period.
Sure, there will be a few young people who do go, but they will do so for their own reasons, spanning from fear, via rage to tales of glory.  And they will find their own way to lay down those weapons and say enough of this.

War was the old paradigm.  Let it go.  Let it be.  It is not the way forward.
The glorification of violence have got to stop.
Be peace.
purr Miao

Tug of war

(written 21 September 2012)

Since wordpress keeps removing my formatting, I will type the first line on each ”verse” in caps…

THERE’S A TUG OF WAR going on inside of me

the part that wants prosperity

vs the part that holds fear

Fear of feeling obliged to help

I don’t what to work hard to give it away

to someone I judge irresponsible perhaps.

IN MY HEAD I know I don’t have to.

In my head I know we are both creators.

So this is how I set it up for now.

If I have no money, then

I can’t feel guilty for saying no

when someone asks me for some.

THING IS, it doesn’t work

coz the guilt transforms into guilt for

not having any

not living up to expectations, mine and perceived others

and a hundred little unidentified

illusive fears that sneak around like dust

on stagnant water it festers and hatches like mosquitoes

then one by one they come for me.

NOT HAVING money can’t keep me ”safe”

any more than having money can

but it can keep me in fear – for now.

Fear of not having funds to go and see family,

to be unable to bail us out,

plus all the ones that come from not being

in a network of friends to catch a fall.

TO SOME it is real, to some it is a game

but at times the game does feel ever so real

no matter how much I remind and reassure my self.

When with all the skills we have accumulated between us

we can not find work and funds are low

coins rather than notes.

This is a place of contradictions

the well off live side by side with poverty

sometimes co-existing within the same family.

I am amazed. How do they do it so easefully?

I want to learn!

If you saw your nephews in rags and no shoes

would you not feel some sort of human obligation to help?

Instead get in your fancy car

leaving the aircon on while you go to work.

DO YOU REALLY think your brother/in law

who slaves away for 12 hours or more a day

is not working as hard as you

and deserves a break too?

Am I really the only one who’s head observes these things?

Of course, you are in no way obliged

but if you so easily could

how can you not want to?

I NEED TO LEARN from these people

learn to not feel like I want to help

because I’d want that hand if it were me.

I need to learn to let everyone have their experience

without wanting to change it.

Let the complexities just be what they are.

Respect the choices of others &

get on with my own.

Choose and choose again

choose a different experience to explore for myself

and let everyone else have theirs.

I’m having a hard time viewing poverty as a ”choice”.

IT IS NOT EXCLUSIVE to this place

it’s just that the extremes makes it more apparent.

The have and the have nots.

In England it’s behind closed doors

even if those doors are ever changing doors of a b&b or hostel.

OBLIGATIONS to help…..

It reminds me of other times…

looking after siblings

looking after parent and grand-parents

because it’s what the eldest/youngest/ugliest daughter did.

Love does not come into it.

It’s what you do.

No matter how much you begrudge

a chance at a life of your own

a family or a (”suitable”) job

teaching or nursing .

Through the centuries I hear the echoes

”why do you want to look after other people when

your brothers and sisters need caring for?”

Yeah. A little bit of freedom? Break from the unpaid labour (read slavery)?

An end to a working day rather than 24/7 thankless ”duty”.

WHY DO WE perpetuate the cycle?

Like the crabs in the crab bucket…

grab hold of anyone trying to climb out.

Any branching out

no matter how small

stirs the fears of all the others, whispering:-

Is it so simple as to—

Did I make the right choice?

IN MY MIND I can clearly see

a picture of me and the class of -83.

On one of the facets we’d just got back from a great adventure

a dream we’d nurtured for 2 years before coming to fruition.

In a mere week we’d grown

seen things, experienced so much

and changed irrevocably.

And here we are

asked to step back into the selves we were before.

Go back and fulfill the choices made before.

Before we grew, before we knew our selves

and the facts we now hold in our hands and heart.

I’m sure most didn’t give it much thought

lucky are those who can be content

doing what is expected of them

without questioning.

LIKE A caged bird

had flown around the room

and worry turned into jubilation,

now back in the cage you go.

But I’m different now!

I’ve seen an other world

and you want me to go back and be that small again?

I may not know what I want

but I still would like to reconsider.

Collect a few more facets of life

and my self

before I make my choice.

THE GIRL ON the lawn again;

I’m not sure about this anymore

but what else is there?

She does not want to cause a scene

she does not want to be rude

she does not want to cause trouble

But the question unformed

unasked, unanswered

swirls around like a restless ghost.

It will follow her for years to come

What else is there?

Even when she finds the words,

then she becomes somehow invisible too.

Unsure if anyone can hear her

or if they are just ignoring the question.

Because they don’t know? Don’t comprehend?

She sets out to find her own answers.

IS HAVING a choice

even if it is an illusionary one

a luxury?

A right?

Is this introspection purely an introvert thing?

Or is it an indigo trait?

To see so much, think so much,

contemplate more angles of life

than a team of devils’ advocates?

SO THERE I am again

back outside the school on the lawn

in my dress with daisies on,

wishing I was thinner

with a flat belly and slender legs.

This is where our roads parted for college

where we get to start spending our days

in the company of those who have chosen to study

something we were supposedly interested in

rather than bundled together by age group.

I STILL SEE me on that lawn

the buses in the street

the break from all we’d known up til then.

Knowing there were other choices I’d rather make

but that were not available to me.

And a little voice whispered – unfair… isn’t it?

I hissed at it to shut up.

Keep your head down and get on with it.

Three more years and I’d be free.

Forget it feels like a prison sentence,

just get the darn qualifications

then I can choose where to go

and what to do.

Then I can LEARN TO FLY.

Selfless acts of love (16 April 2013)

This is what I wrote after hearing about the recent bombings. I chose not to post it at the time. I changed my mind. Here it is.

earth we are all one

I admit it, I’m usually the first to look for a cover up or conspiracy when something like what recently took place in Boston occurs. What scandal needs covering up or what laws want amendment or passing on the sly? I’m not saying that someone or some organisation might not try and take advantage of the situation and try and do something dastardly for their own gains while the people is still reeling from this latest event. Don’t raise to the bait.

Let us grieve our friends, family etc in peace. In Peace. Don’t give that up or away. Don’t turn against other humans. Don’t go where rage and anger lives. Don’t listen to the media. Refuse to join in another mans cause*.

This time, at this point, when I ”look” for energetic traces I can honestly say I don’t feel any. All I Can see is a bunch of beings (or rather their souls) getting together and co-creating an event we view as deeply tragic in 3d. The intent being pulling people together and opening up hearts. It sounds like they succeeded. What I’m saying is that it was not orchestrated by some dark entity. And even if you think it was, the dark-workers ultimately serve the light too.

So don’t play into the hands of those who wants to make it about us and them. Don’t make it about some place else. It’s about souls helping other souls. Sacrificing their bodies of this incarnation to help those around them in a dramatic way, just like soldiers have laid down their lives for friends and family, sorry, their country…

Please receive it as the selfless act it was given. Allow your hearts to open and freely give and receive love in this challenging time. I repeat, Don’t make it about us and them. Make it about opening to love and each other. Us. We, One people, one planet.

People do not want war. Governments sometimes do. Guess who gets to do the fighting.

If told ”you’re not patriotic enough” don’t listen. It’s not a sin. I’m pro-peace and pro-people. Patriotism is a way of sneaky emotional blackmail riding on the ”not enough” train, a way of turning it into ”us” and ”them” again and look where that has got us? It’s a tried and tested way to get You to succumb to another’s bidding, socially accepted bully tactics.

Before you write this off as idealistic waffling I’ll tell you I questioned that too. Thus I wondered if I would have felt differently had it been at home; if it had taken place on the Isle of Wight. Or had it been at a summer music festival, killing fellow traders and visitors.

I remember well the London bombings. I was there. I remember Lockerbie, Scotland. I remember visiting Lockerbie many years later and noticing how I could still feel a rift or a kind of an echo and all the ghosts of those exiting life at that time. So many years ago and still so tangible, I felt the shift in air way before I saw the roadsign telling us where we were. The subdued under-current. Still present.

And I think my reaction would have been the same as when receiving the news yesterday. I hope I’d still feel as level and thus able to hold space for those grieving loved ones.

Please don’t get me wrong; I feel your pain if I allow myself to go there, so I don’t. That wouldn’t serve anyone. Like my friends on the other side I choose to enfold thee in my virtual arms and hold thee, in love and in light. I’ve got water-proof shoulders ❤

Don’t let anyone use this as an excuse for turning us against each other. Enough already. Don’t allow it.

Join me and many many others and wrap your love and peace around the world. And while you are at it, love the Irakis, the Egyptians, the Arabs, the Koreans etc etc too.

If you feel resistance – look at that within your self.

Love those who are trying to start another war, coz their game is up if we, the people of earth, choose it to be that way. If there is no one to fight there can be no war.

If you need an example, then read some Harry Potter. There’s a seed of darkness within us all, but what we choose to do with it is up to us, each and every one of us. There are light switches but no dark switches. Shine your light and the dark has to move on somewhere else where there is fuel or fodder for it and someone to ignite. Know why you do what you do. That is consciousness. That is progress. Ignorance breeds discontent. Love ruins their game.

I’ve spent this lifetime NOT plugged in to the mainstream reality, so I can be the emanation and a voice of peace. I hope you will never know how painful that has been and the price paid, and instead receive my gift to the world at this time.

Never just take anyone else’s truth, find your own.

 

Elissé, 16 April 2013.


 

* Another man’s cause – the Levellers

So what’s underneath the onion

The sewing machine is ”playing up”.   So I don’t feel inspired to sew now, but the next fayre is a week away and this stuff needs to be finished before then. I felt inspired when I designed, cut and pinned them, but I ran out of daylight and sewing black in the evening does not work for me.

So what?  I doubt there’s anyone who always feel inspired, just f-ckin deal with it! I rarely feel inspired to clean or cook, go food shopping or do laundry, shower or brush my teeth, yet it has to be done. Deal with it.

So I scream and punch the sewing machine – I don’t need you to have a highfalutin opinion about my lack of enthusiasm right now – just do your f-ckin’job and sew!!!

It’s not just that it is full moon though it probably contributes.   Hubbys family is coming today, and no matter how nice they are as people, for me it is always fraught and highly stressful. It means ridiculously long and late nights, not enough of and poor quality sleep, guilt over needing apparently twice as much sleep as everyone else, and general frustration.  Creative projects and writing gets put away until they leave.

For days the frustrations of feeling required to behave to fit the extroverted social norm, with the fake smiles and pretending everything is just fine. All while at the same time being bored to tears by the same old drama, but too well brought up to pick up a book and zone out the way others play with their smart-phones, play games or fb. Of hours of waiting around for nothing.  Of concentrating like crazy to try to understand and follow the conversation, until my head feels like it’s going to explode.

Sick of the glib jibes pointing out that I have not learnt spanish yet even though I live here. How I should go out and practice with everyone any opportunity, how I should take the opportunities and practice here and now. How I must be sooo lazy because I still can’t speak. Learning a language when immersed in it is sooo EASY…

And noone has any understanding how hard I have tried to learn, how much I have studied and how f-ckin’ impossible it feels by now. How deeply embarrassed and frustrated I am about this.

Nor does it stop there.  I’m not Buddha or Jeshua; if you poke me repeatedly I get hacked off. If one more shower of unsolicited ”helpful” hints as how I should live my life; not scratch at the hundreds of insect bites on my legs and feet, what to buy and use (same sh-t I have tried and then some) and how terrible the scars on my legs look, I WILL loose it and SCREAM. They may not understand the words but I’m sure as hell the meaning will be perfectly clear. You’ve trod on my boundaries one time too many so back off!

Am I mirroring their own suppressed anger and frustration if I let mine show? The fear that this is all there is (so let’s keep on dancing) ?

I’m so damned polite and unwilling to offend, but I’m also so darn tired of the same old dance. I ”behave” as is expected of me, in a grown-up friendly manner. Even if it feels more like a parody at times. How much I despise the same old ”well-meaning” small-talk and would love to be able to have a meaningful conversation.

I want to be my usual quirky inner self and for that to translate and come across as the loving and affable me my friends know and love.

But right now I feel none of those things, or rather I feel anger and frustration as well and those voices are so much louder right now.

I can just imagine the unspoken words. Leave that english bitch and and get a nice mexican girl who will be up to date on soaps and drama, is a good catholic instead of a bad influence and who will cherish his children. Unlike me.

And you know what? He had 40 years looking for one of those and he chose me! For who I am, for how we get eachother, for the spiritual bond and love we share that makes the struggles worth working our way through.

Underneath that lurks my fear that whatever I do will reflect badly on my husband. I don’t want to come between him and his family. He gets frustrated too but is hell bent on ”fixing” it, fixing it here meaning waking everyone up and get where he is coming from. I gave that up long ago. Everyone does their own journey following their own divine timing.

How do you ”interact” with unconscious extroverted people, when you are a conscious, highly sensitive introvert? When there is no common ground and no common language?

My personal answer was to step away and find friends to fill those spaces traditionally held by family. People who like me for who I am, and who’s company I enjoy.

It is like being 16, 17, 18 or 19 etc and going to visit my parents for the weekend. This time it will be different. This time we will get on. This time will be the new beginning of a new relationship between us.

Every time with an open mind and the best of intentions, ready to forgive, forget and let bygones be bygones. Let the crap slide and not raise to the bait. To ignore the put-downs and criticism and focus on… what exactly? What I wanted to have; mutual respect and appreciation. If you treated your friends like you treat me you’d soon find yourself lonely indeed. Yet, it’s me who’s finding her self alone here. What irony.

Hmmm, yea, good question

We’re sitting peacefully in the kitchen, me and Miao Cat. I’m writing and she’s snoozing on the chair next to mine.

I’m about to break for coffee when I hear

– Why do you not like parts of your body? It’s your body. It’d make sense if you didn’t like parts of your mind.
– Where did That one come from Kit-Kit?
– Just wondered.

I make the coffee and sit back down.

– Are you happy here, Miao-Cat?
– Are you? Happy enough. I have a job to do. Teaching you.

While we were talking my phone rang.
– Ugh. Why do you have to use those to talk to one another?
– Because it is quicker and easier.
– Really? But you are talking to me now!?!
– When humans are stressed and in a hurry, we don’t trust telepathy.
Miao does the stare that is her cat equivalent of rolling her eyes.
– Yes. It’s complicated.
– Obviously. Humans. Say no more.

Made me chuckle. I’ve learnt more from our cats and especially Miao than I ever thought possible. I love this precious soul sharing our house and our lives. She is so wise, so remarkably astute it sometimes blows me away. She IS me at times; the better part of me…

Beautiful furball x x x

 

16 October 2012

Contemplating the word love, it’s usage in eft & personal connotations

I often wondered why the lack of verbal ”I love you” from my parents would bother me so much. In fact I can’t remember ever hearing them say it. There was the occasional I like you tho. And that’s just it, it suddenly dawned on me. ”I like you” is conditional. Be like I want you to be and I’ll approve of (or sometimes even appreciate) you, but only if you conform to my ideals, my likes, my wants.

Unconditional love – or unconditional acceptance – is just that; Unconditional.  No matter what.

All this came about because of mulling over the original set-up statement in EFT (emotional freedom technique or simply Tapping). I came across my notes from a talk I heard by Puja Kanth Alfred, author of the book Geo-Specific EFT, about tailoring to different cultures.  And I agree with how utterly awkward the statement ”I love and approve of myself” can sound to non-american ears and when translated into some other languages.

It is meant to feel supportive, encouraging and nurturing, yet to me it does not. The word love in this context to me feels polarized and contrived and because of that I tense up rather than relax, release and let go. Unconditional acceptance feels more neutral and to me it’s vibration is that of holding up the ceiling, of allowing what is to just be.  Unconditional love on the other hand feels more like an oxymoron. It sets up the slightest expectation of something positive being en route and the inner switch in me then flips over to steel myself in case of disappointment in some way, or getting nothing. It’s setting me up for getting nothing after expecting something (”good”). Of being let down. Go without. The promise of a gift and finding the nicely wrapped box empty. Of disappointment when it all turns to nothing, of being short-changed, a promise turning out to come to nothing. Of being forgotten or overlooked.

Personally I’ve experimented with ”Even tho … blahblahblah…, I accept myself (or I accept this in myself) unconditionally (or completely)”. Acceptance allows me to relax and just be.

Just how complicated can one person make the world around her?

Catpaw 5-6 July 2012

Interested in cross cultural EFT?  Check out Puja Kanth Alfreds website:   http://www.emofreetherapy.com/geo-specific_eft.html

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