Thanksgiving Miracle. I did it!

      I did it! I made room for a Miracle!

Is it arrogant of me to say that I had anything to do with creating a miracle? Isn’t that blasphemous to claim personal creative power, that only God – or saints – have anything to do with miracles?

Well, read on and make your own judgment.

Here’s the story, starting with the miracle:

I’m sitting at a festive table in a warm home in a southern Ohio nature sanctuary.
I’m sharing Thanksgiving dinner in a place where my heart sings, feeling loved and accepted just as I am, with family and friends who enjoy my company and who had warmly invited me over. We’re sharing food I love that suits my preferences perfectly! After dinner, we chat for a while, then we play my favorite game, a game that guides us to safely and humorously connect with each other, affirming our uniqueness. Everyone feels good about themselves and each other . That’s pretty miraculous, as Thanksgivings go.

Let me confess that Thanksgiving has often been a big “Story” time for me. Can you relate? For many years, sometimes more than others, I’ve felt anxious about Thanksgiving. I wouldn’t always be invited. I felt different from everyone and on edge about my views of the world. I didn’t enjoy the traditional American food but thought I should eat it anyway. I would bring side dishes I wanted and eat alone. I would listen to others complain and criticize world events or other relatives and feel distant and alone in my views. Sometimes I would be so judgmental about the whole idea of feasting – and overeating -on turkey, and spending time with closed minded people that I would consider skipping the whole thing! Then, I would feel guilty for not being grateful and go anyway, pretending to enjoy myself.

Sounds pretty miserable and lonely, and self-centered, huh?

So, it makes sense that this year’s celebration would feel miraculous! How did that happen? What made this year different than before?

Well, here’s what I think.

It’s about three weeks before Thanksgiving and I’m visiting my mom. I’ve been hiking in Ohio and staying with her for two weeks while going out on day hikes near her house. It’s been years since I’ve been with her for so long, but earlier this year I divorced my husband and sold my house. I’m grateful that I can stay with her AND do some hiking at the same time. She says that she appreciates the company too.

“What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” I ask.
“I’m going to Anita’s,” Mom replies. “She’s having her family’s gathering for the first time this year. Her mom said that she’s not doing it anymore. I’m getting a tablecloth that fits the big table.” Anita is my sister-in-law who lives across a field from my mom. The big table is the odd-sized family table from my parents’ old house. My mom used to custom make the table cloths for it.

“Great!” I say. “That should be fun!”

I wait for the conversation to continue. She’ll say, “What are your plans?” or “Oh! You’ll be here too, so you could join the family too!” or something like that.

She doesn’t say anything! I move on to researching the next trail section.
Inside, though, I’m burning! “Why didn’t she include me or ask me about my own plans? I haven’t been with her for years and now she’s ignoring me!” My mind goes into overload with all the reasons, the blame, the shame. This is a big deal! I’m not invited for Thanksgiving with my mom!

Memories of past Thanksgivings flood my mind! It’s happening again!
I’m not included! I guess I don’t matter! There must be something wrong with me!
It could be just like my past, stuck in an unhappy drama of self doubt and judgment and blame that drains my energy and separates me from my family. I could isolate myself, stop speaking to her. I would stuff down those feelings, put on a happy face and pretend that everything was just fine and go on my hike and just be alone for Thanksgiving. So there!
Screeech! Stop! Wait! I don’t have to do this any more. I have something that can help me. Now is a perfect time to reach for my emotional toolbox. It’s time for a new twist to this drama. It’s time for

Radical Forgiveness!

I’ve been using Radical Forgiveness worksheets, the four steps, and the thirteen steps for several years now. Using these simple questions and statements, I have often experienced lightness and freedom and definitely more peace and self acceptance. Radical Forgiveness even helped me go ahead with my divorce feeling confident and accepting.
Would it work NOW?!

Would it even work on the dreaded Thanksgiving Drama?!!! Could this process live up to its subtitle of “Making Room for the Miracle”?

I listened to the 13-Steps recording. I felt those feelings of blame, sadness, separation, loneliness. Tears welled up and I held my hand over my belly where the feelings seemed to be located. At Step 9, “Do you realize you’re doing a healing dance with the other person?” I nodded my head and said, “Yes” and my belly relaxed.
And Step 12. “Notice when the thoughts you had at the beginning, the ones that were attached to the feelings, have lost their charge.”

“Hmm. I thought. Maybe it’s not my mom’s privilege to invite me. Maybe Anita is already overloaded with having over 20 people for dinner. Maybe I’d rather be doing something else anyway. Maybe it doesn’t mean all those things I was thinking.” The thoughts I had at the beginning HAD lost their charge.

I surrendered in Step 13 to my Higher Self and to letting the situation unfold according to a Divine Plan.
I did feel lighter and more open to possibilities. Maybe I COULD even create something myself that would be generous and inclusive and special. Hmm. Hadn’t thought of that before, when my beliefs of unacceptance and unworthiness and criticism and blame had filled me.

The next day, my mom and Anita drop me and my hiking partner off on the Buckeye Trail about 40 miles from their homes. We’ll be backpacking from here for the next several weeks, not driving back to my mom’s house each night. I’m not thinking so much about Thanksgiving. I’m making new friends along the way, enjoying my favorite life of walking in Nature. I’m even doing the work I love by setting up coaching sessions while hiking.
Fast forward to five days before Thanksgiving. I’m talking with my sister on the phone. She’s on the road, driving back to Ohio from her seasonal position in Nebraska.

“I’m going to my friend, Norris’, arriving the day before Thanksgiving.”

“We’ll be pretty close to there too!”

I still don’t have a firm plan for the holiday. I’ve accepted that I won’t be with my mom.

“Wow! Maybe you could come be with us!” she says. “I’d love to see you! I’ll check with Norris.” Within 15 minutes, she calls back. “Norris says’ he’d love to have you. You can stay overnight and get a shower and sleep in a good bed. This will be fun. We’ll be fixing vegan dinner, lots of vegetables and fresh juice, and cranberry sauce sweetened with stevia.”

I smile. Here it is. This IS a miracle.

And it WAS a happy Thanksgiving. And, my mom even called to ask how the day was going.

So, did I create that miracle? Not necessarily.

I believe what I did do was indeed, make room for that miracle.
Here’s what I think. By noticing that I was stuck in my old story of blame and self-hatred, unworthiness and judgment then doing the 13 Steps, I enlisted my Higher Self. I opened up my own thinking to accept other possibilities and free others from my story. By staying open, not filling my schedule with plans of defeat and sabotage, I had room in my plans and in my heart for something wonderful to occur.

I believe that I made room for that miracle.

What do YOU think?

Please comment below!!

What’s your Thanksgiving story?

And, if Making Room for a Miracle is something you’d like to learn how to do, send me an email and let me know.
I can guide you.
I can do it over the phone, by email or Facebook messages, or in person.

Ready to make room for a miracle in your life?

Email me at regina@forgivenesswalks.com

It Happened in Church

“Oh my God!” I gasped.

My new friend, Millie had just turned on the lights in Immaculate Conception Church in Ottoville, OH.

“Praying just comes naturally in here!” The lofty arches with their luscious blue painted corners evoked awe and wonder. The nature of God and His dominion as heavenly beings far away and inaccessible to us mere earthly humans was confirmed in that architecture.

In my current walk around the State of Ohio on the Buckeye Trail, I’ve visited the Catholic churches in the many small towns along the route. The Catholics of the late 1800’s, when these towns were formed, built cathedrals for their worship. The spires, piercing the sky, visible for several miles across the flat farmland, are still prominent landmarks. Most are meticulously maintained with skillful tuck pointing of the red brick, painting of the artistic masterworks of the interior, and thoughtful insulation of the expansive stained glass windows. We only saw St. Mary’s in Junction, OH sadly abandoned.

What’s my attraction, besides their alluring architecture?

It’s the Story. It’s MY Story of being a child of the Catholic Church.

Last Sunday our itinerary put us at St. Mary’s Church in Defiance. The Buckeye Trail’s blue blazes were on Washington Street at the back of the church.  Without manipulating our morning’s walk in any way, we arrived there at 7:51 -perfect  timing for 8:00 Mass.

A woman happily directed us to the “back”, which is really the “front” of the building with its massive doors and bell tower. Entering these doors, indeed, put us at the back of the pews, gazing at the distant sanctuary. We slipped into the last pew.

Mass began with the clanging of the bells and the processional of the servers and priest. I was instantly swept up into My Story of the Catholic Church. The songs, the Order of the Mass, the gestures, the choreographed standing, sitting, kneeling, the ritual of Communion wrapped me in its rhythm, its quieting of my mind, its calming authority over my thoughts.

But I rebelled.

I revolted by thinking my own thoughts. I questioned the words that wanted to fall rotely from my lips.

I allowed my renegade Radical Forgiveness view of the world to stand next to the Catholic world view. I recalled the article that Colin Tipping, author of Radical Forgiveness, had posted a few days earlier, illuminating the role of Religion in maintaining the illusion of separation from Spirit. The Radical Forgiveness Story puts Spirit and Humanity in juxtaposition, with an overlapping area like a Venn diagram, where we might experience the two worlds together.

“Oh! I see the Story here! And it’s OK! I see how this Story has shaped my beliefs, my view of life, my experience!” I sang along with the recessional hymn, “How can I keeeeep – from singing?”

“I see why it has been natural for me to quietly keep my views to myself, when a different Story, a different World View, has been stirring in my soul for many years! The Church is a very powerful Authority, a dedicated and purposeful keeper of its Story. Its leaders have not been looking for other Stories, not from me, anyway.”  (Which, of course, IS MY STORY!  LOL)

I love the energy surge when the glaze of an Old Story lifts and I realize that I can CHOOSE another story, a New Story, to describe what’s happening in my life! Even life-long stories like this one can yield to another story, with BOTH of them being “right”. I instantly feel free! And, I even feel more loving and related to all the people in Church! My Old Story has been witnessed and validated.  My New Story has been proclaimed. I leave that Mass ready to walk this new acceptance of myself and others into my body, to integrate this shift in perception.

I can love myself fearlessly.

I feel oneness with everyone and everything.

I can CHOOSE my stories and let them all be right.

 

In joy,

Regina

P.S. Are YOU ready to have your Old Stories yield to New Stories?
Are you ready to feel that surge of energy?
Ready to be FREE of your past?
Ready to have vibrant energy and fulfilling relationships?

Contact me TODAY!  I can help you with that.
I offer custom coaching sessions and packages.
Email me at regina@forgivenesswalks.com and say, “Yes! I’m ready to bust my Old Stories!”
You can start telling that Old Story right there in your first email, and I’ll set up a time for us to chat about it.

Here’s to your New Story!
Regina

Get the book that tells you how: Radical Forgiveness

Journey to the Heart Land

After a full week of walking along the Miami-Erie Canal Towpath, along country roads, and through small towns in rural Ohio along the Buckeye Trail, I’m convinced that walking is my calling. 

  • Walking as an exercise tones my body and gets my thoughts clear and my creativity flowing.
  • Walking in Nature connects me to Spirit and to the realm of infinite possibility and joy.
  • Walking through towns connects me with people.

Meeting people used to be scary for me, but now that I am living my own favorite expression, meeting people is a delightful stream of magical encounters. This week, my hiking partner, John, and I have met over a dozen generous people just by doing our walk!

Here are the stories of a few of them:

Minnie walks for exercise regularly in St. John the Evangelist Church in Delphos, OH. “I walk for 30 minutes a few times a week. While I walk I say my rosary. If I get finished with one rosary, I just start over and say another one. “

“That makes exercising and praying go together, bringing the spiritual world and human world closer together.” I said.

“Oh, I know about that! Here’s something that happened that still gives me chills to tell it.. Just a couple of weeks after my mother-in-law died, I sat up one night hearing a harp playing. It was very loud and it was a whole orchestra! I nudged my husband, ‘Do you hear that music? He said yes, he heard it too.’ I’m hesitant to tell people, because they might think I’m crazy. But, it was so beautiful.  If heaven is like that, I want to go there!

“I certainly believe you, and I’m really happy for you for having that experience with Heaven. Maybe it’s closer to us than we realize most of the time. Thanks so much for sharing that with us.”

 

Linda manages the IGA in Ft. Jennings. She was very curious about our walk. We chose several items there: peanut butter, noodle sides, tuna, coconut, animal cookies.

“Do you take debit cards? “

“Oh no, sorry. Only cash.”

“OK. Well, I have $6.00 in cash. Well, really seven counting my coins. But, we’ll choose a few items.”

We chose the animal cookies and the peanut butter for a total of $5.95

And she didn’t mind reshelving the groceries we left behind.

Regina and MillieMillie  had answered a call from Sam from the Buckeye Trail Clubl for a place to camp in Ottoville.  Mille and I played message tag and we found out we could indeed camp in her yard. She would pick us up in Ottoville. We walked into town and past Immaculate Conception Catholic Church at 6:15 p.m. I called Millie, who said she’d be right over to the church.

“Did you see the church?”

“Just the outside. It’s dark inside.”

“I know how to turn on the lights.”

“Then, Yes, we’d love to see it.”

Millie went in first, bidding us to wait in the back while she walked up the dark aisle through the sanctuary to the sacristy. Click. Click.  Banks of lights gradually lit up the heavenly reaches of the church.

“Oh God, it’s beautiful,” I cried. “It’s easy to feel close to God in here.”

The Mary’s blue highlights of the corners of the archways magnified the reverence to Mary, the Mother of God, to whom this church is dedicated. The rose-colored marble panels and pillars of the sanctuary evoked a heartfelt warmth and Earthly connection through Mary’s intercession.  Even though Millie shared her own disappointment in the sacrifice of the old majestic altarpiece for this simpler one, I enjoyed the symbolic artistry of this wondrous architectural prayer.

With the help of my ever-present headlamp, Millie restored the building to its darkness and we left the church. That was the first spot on our tour of Ottoville. We were impressed with the comprehensive facilities in this little town, from city services, new park, and Subway sandwich shop, to DoItYourself store and new bakery, chiropractor and dentist, all within a few blocks. Millie was again not happy with the demise of several historic buildings along the Miami-Erie Canal channel – liveries, hotels, and school. We didn’t notice them missing though.

Our stay with Millie was pure delight! She never even mentioned camping out, offering us dinner of her unique soup. “Nobody likes this soup, but you’re welcome to it” We loved it.

“Do you want bread with that?  I usually eat popcorn. You’re welcome to that, but you’ll have to shell it yourselves.”

That was fun!. “

And here are hickory nuts”  She cracked them open with a hammer on her vise.

She showeus the potted begonias, strawberries, and other perennials stashed on shelves for winter. 

Around the stairs were four Tupperware bins – “Worms. They help improve my garden soil.”

Our lively conversations filled the night ‘til 10 p.m. Maps, memories of Ottoville, family stories, dog petting, and multiple servings of bean soup and fresh popcorn turned us strangers into friends. The popcorn was the best I’d ever had. It tasted like corn!

 

 

Irene and ReginaIrene I was embarrassed that my hiking partner had put his trekking poles on the coffee counter at the convenience store in Ottoville. As I reached to pick them up, I caught the eye of a woman who smiled and said, “You’re taking a long walk?”

“Yes. We’re walking the Buckeye Trail.” She had so many questions which led to her sharing her own story about recently moving back to Ottoville to build a house and resettle. Her heart was still connected to St. Louis as well because that’s where her step-daughter lives. Her eyes lit up when she said,  “She’s really my daughter, because I raised her. Her mother left when she was young.”  Her phone rang. In a minute, she came back laughing, “You won’t believe who that was! My sister, Millie! You stayed at her house last night.”

Now, Ottoville is a small town, but the magic of meeting Millie’s sister was pretty wonderful. We walked out of that little canal town with two friends. Walking spins that thread of friendship, and I feel oneness with humanity.

Farmer’s Wife I didn’t get her name, but I listened with compassion as she shared her story of disappointment with her job at Family Services in Paulding. Soon she’ll retire, though, she explained, and work only on her husband’s farm. And that’s hard work! The day I met her, she was walking on the woods path on the edge of the corn field waiting for her husband, the farmer, to call her.  “I’m the Go-fer.”

What goes through my mind when I hear her story is confirmation that a common belief in our culture is that life and work have to be hard and disappointing.

“Is that true?” I wonder.

What would happen if lots of people shift to heeding the call of what they love to do more than what they ‘should’ do? What if more people did what was joyful and fulfilling more than what is disappointing and unfulfilling?

 

Dan

This story was written by Hiker John:

We were happy to finally make it back to the wooded Tow Path along the Canal after a long country road walk.  The soft ground felt good underneath our feet.  The familiar and friendly blue blazes of the Buckeye trail had led us to this place.  We noticed that adjacent to the path, a Combine was harvesting a field of corn.  Regina met a woman walking down the path who was helping with the harvest.  While Regina and the woman were talking I simply had to pee.  Excusing myself for a while, I then returned to hear another voice.

It was a very loud voice, demanding to be heard.  It was that of the woman’s husband, the farmer, expressing anger that the trail was crossing “his” land.  His angry words were hard to listen to at first and Regina almost retreated back to the country road to escape his barrage of acquisitions and complaints.  I really wanted to continue hiking forward along the Buckeye Trail so I needed to carefully listen to what he was saying behind his upset to come to an understanding.   I let the farmer play the “blame” game.

He was upset that someone had re-painted the blue blazes along the Tow Path after he had removed them. He was concerned about liability in case someone got hurt (there are a lot of large gopher holes).  He was afraid of losing his farm (which he had worked many years to create) if someone sued him.   He was upset that the state of Ohio had established the Buckeye Trail across the Tow Path public right-of-way that he believe was his private property.  He was upset that a local school group had once parked a bus blocking access to his field sand that a bunch of kids were walking around on the tow path.  He was upset about 4 wheelers using the Tow Path.  Most of all he was upset that people were not asking him if they could cross this section of trail and that trail users in the past had responded angrily and disrespectfully back to him.

After listening and acknowledging his upset, I asked if Regina and I could please continue our hike across “his” property.  I also got his contact information and later gave it the Buckeye Trail association so they could create future dialog and an agreement of trail right of way could be made.  What had started off as a hostile encounter turned into one of more mutual respect and greater understanding of differing points of view.  Even though all the trail issues along the Buckeye may not be resolved yet, with cooperation and patience I believe everybody’s voice can be heard.  The Forgiveness Rose protected us, but all the yelling made Regina and I a little more wary of the corn fields lying just beyond our little Tow Path trail.

Larry, Regina, and CarolLarry and Carol As evening approached, we reached Ft. Brown. Where would we camp? Our list of campsites in the Delphos Secttion of the Trail, provided by Sam Boniface of the Buckeye Trail Club included the name of Larry who let hikers camp on his property on the bank of the Auglaize River. I called the number.

“Yes”, Carol replied. “You can camp here.  Just look across the bridge and you’ll see our house with the driveway leading down to the river.”

I got confused and called back. The call dropped. We could see two people inside the kitchen and bravely knocked on the door.

“Oh! You’re the hikers. Come on in! Do you want dinner?  We’ve got pot roast. We were going to go out to eat, but decided to just stay home this evening. How about something to drink? Root beer? Creme soda? Oh, and here’s a bag of candy from Halloween.”

Carol wouldn’t let us say no. We ate heartily.

Meanwhile, Larry had been outside building us a fire. He had said he would bring down some firewood, but he even built the fire! Carol urged us to take down chairs.

We had set up our tarp and were enjoying the fire when Carol came out and said, “I just couldn’t let you sit out here by a fire without hot dogs! We couldn’t refuse.

In the morning, we walked up the hill to Larry’s tool and dye shop where he had invited us for morning coffee and use of the bathroom. Then, we got a full tour of his shop, learning all about the production of plastic arrow knocks and the multi-colored feathers on arrow shafts. It was getting late in the morning. We wouldn’t be getting an early start!

“What else can we give you? A calendar (from the shop)?”

“No thanks. Too heavy.”

“OK. Well, you can at least use a pen inscribed with our name!”  That worked.

After photos with Carol and Larry, we were ready to walk on, two more friends on our list.

But not until our pockets were filled with Larry’s homegrown English Walnuts!

We couldn’t say No.

 

 

Something from Nothing

‘WOULD YOU LIKE A CHAIR?”
“T” AT THE Discount Groceries store in Spencerville is asking me.
With that simple question, I realize that a miracle had occurred. I had witnessed my thoughts becoming reality. I, or I in co-creation with God and a couple of women, had created something out of nothing. As an explorer of the Law of Attraction, I am getting better at noticing simple moments like this as proof that what shows up in my life reflects my thoughts.
Let me back up a bit in the story.
My hiking partner and I had walked most of the day in wind and rain along the historic Miami-Erie Canal towpath that forms the Buckeye Trail in Ohio. As we approached Spencerville, a small rural town, we talked about what we wanted to create there. John had Googled on my smart phone and learned that there’s  the Top Hat Supermarket and a Subway sandwich shop.
“No hotel, no library”. He says.
We imagine sitting down and relaxing with a hot drink for an hour or so at Subway, then picking up food for supper at the supermarket and continuing on the towpath trail for a few more hours before dark.
What actually happened turned out differently, and. well, miraculously!
“We’re looking for a place we can sit down and have a hot drink,” I tell the deli clerk at the Top Hat Supermarket. She ponders a minute. “There’s the café, Oh, but that’s closed at this time of day.”
“I understand there’s a Subway.” I suggest.
“Oh yes, that’s a couple of blocks from here.” She gives me directions.
Our vision of sitting down in a warm spot with a hot drink glows in our minds. I can feel the warmth in my body and relaxation in my tired legs. I imagine the typical Subway with its vegetable themed wallpaper and wood themed tables and booths.
We reach Subway. It’s an in-store counter at the gas station. I’m disapIpointed but I look around the back wall for the seats that must be there. “It’s a Subway!” I insist silently.
Warm inside, yes. Subway sandwich counter, yes. Seats, no.
I talk with the clerk, “We’re looking for a place to sit down with a hot drink.”
“She thinks, “There’s the café, but it’s closed from 2 to  4”  It’s 2:15.
“Do you want something inside? There are tables outside.”   “Yes It’s rainy and cold and we’ve been walking all day. Inside would be great.”
I quip, “Spencerville, the town with no place to sit down!”
I remind myself to keep my focus on receiving  what I want, feeling how good it will feel to sit down with a hot drink on a seat.
“You could try the bowling alley.  I don’t know when that’s open, though.”
The bowling alley is closed.
The other gas station has no seats either.
“Well, let’s go back to the supermarket, buy a few things, and walk on.”
“There’s this discount groceries place, let’s go in there.”
It’s a warehouse lined with shelves in tight rows filled with mostly outdated dry goods. I strike up a conversation with a woman at the checkout   who shares that she loves shopping there.
“We’re just wanting to sit down for a bit,” We’re walking around Ohio on the Buckeye Trail.”.

“There are plenty of places in Delphos!” she smiles.
It’s 8 miles further on the trail. “I’d give you a ride, “But that would be cheating, right?”  She’s got our story!

We find a few items in the store, checking the expiration dates on the boxes: soup, beans, cereal, a bottle of v8 Fusion.’
“We’;ll drink that before we leave.” We don’t want to carry the bottle.
We ask the owner, Amy, “Is it ok if we stand over here by the grocery carts and drink this before we go?”
“Oh sure!” she chimes, “That’s fine!”
Gratitude swells and we open up the juice and drink it in. The sweet, warmish liquid washes comfortably down my throat.
Then the miracle happens.
T, Amy’s sister in law, says, “Would you like a chair? We’ve got a couple in the office.”
She brings out a wooden folding chair, and then wheels out Amy’s cushy office chair. “This is getting better. It’s like a throne!”
We sit for just a few minutes, but that moment shines like gold.
“What do you want to create in Spencerville?”
“A warm place to sit down with a hot drink.”
I realize that we had received something even better than the usual Subway we had imagined.
A couple of warm hearts who had helped us create something out of nothing.

Spinning Straw into Gold

Yesterday Julie Ann Turner guided me in mining for gold from my past.

She invited me to crack open my childhood memories and see in them the golden nuggets of my life’s purpose and my message.

Here are a few examples:

Playing house with my brother while my mom worked in the kitchen nearby revealed my nature as a co-creator using my imagination.

Sewing clothes for my doll at 10 and for my brother at 16, using scraps and small remnants of fabric, heralded my skills of resourcefulness and making something from nothing.

Retreating to the secluded lilac bush where I soothed my middle school loneliness with delightful sensory exploration showed my preference for authentic expression over following popularity and early recognition of the value sacred space in Nature.

Gold mining was fun! I found lots of it! The exercise is helping me discover and claim my unique gifts and values that I had unconsciously hidden when, as a young adult, I believed my Dad’s discouragement of my pursuit of a career in outdoor education as “not a real job.”

Now that memory conjures up the opposite of gold! It’s more like toxic waste. I resist it. I want that kind of memory to stay buried in the deepest mines of my subconscious, never to see the light!

What do I do with those memories? What about the ones of hurt, and pain, and abuse? What about the ones of rejection, failure, and betrayal? Those are not gold-veined ore, are they?

I laugh, discovering that once again, a childhood experience has a gift. It’s like that fairy tale, Rumpelstiltskin, when the girl is locked in the castle store room until she spins that pile of straw into gold. “There’s no way!” she cries. “I can’t spin straw into gold!” She’s immobilized with doubt and feels like a failure. She’s trapped and hopeless. Until that little man, a surreal visitor, comes to her aid and does it. He spins that straw into gold!

“But that doesn’t really help,” I moan. “Rumpelstiltskin is no more real now than in that story, right?!!”

I laugh again, realizing that I do have something that can spin straw into gold. That’s my skill! That’s what I do with my clients. I help smart, talented, courageous women and men get a new perspective on their unhappy circumstances and reframe their old victim stories into new stories of peace, empowerment, and possibility.  The transformation seems like magic in the way it works, but unlike Rumpelstiltskin, I use practical, easy, and transparent tools to spin those new stories.

Do you have memories, or even current circumstances, that look more like toxic waste than gold? Have you buried hurt, shame, anger, or abuse hoping it wouldn’t show up, but it keeps popping up uninvited into your life?  Do you feel trapped in hopelessness or discouragement, stuck in the room of your life with only straw to work with?

You can wait for Rumpelstiltskin to magically appear and do it for you.

Or, you can grab these tools from me at Forgiveness Walks and get to work on spinning that straw into gold yourself!  When you’re ready, come get a free sampling of the easy practices that you can use in your everyday life, loving yourself and your circumstances just as they are.

Click here to sign up for Clearing the Path, a series of five short audios in which I guide you through easy visualizations that can help you feel lighter and more accepting of yourself and your situation, whether it’s that toxic sludge from your past or something happening right now.

Turn your straw into gold with Clearing the Path.

In joy,

Regina

P.S. If you’re ready right now to have some straw spun into gold, email me at regina@forgivenesswalks.com and describe that “straw” story. That will get the spinning going right away. Then, we can set up a time together on the phone to take your next steps. That’s what Claudia did, and shared this with me afterwards:

Thanks so much for taking time to talk with me privately. …..Little by little you helped me feel better about everything I was feeling bad about. ” 

I’m here to help you too, at regina@forgivenesswalks.com