Can I tell my story, my journey of 60 plus years, in just a few paragraphs? I will do my best to keep it as short as possible.
I am here to help you realize your light, your gift and to help you truly embrace the word, NAMASTE; to see and honor the light in yourself and see and honor this light in all living things. My soul's mission is to help you realize that love is the greatest power and using the power of love, we can change ourselves, we can help change the world. Here is my story.
I grew up in Queens, NY in a middle-class neighborhood. My childhood was during the 60s. My parents were Irish Catholic and my mother followed the rules of the church. This meant that using birth control was prohibited by the church. I am one of four siblings. I have 3 brothers. My mom actually had 5 children but the first one died shortly after birth from a birth defect. Being a devout Catholic, my mom had us fairly close together, 4 more children within 5 years.
I was born a month before the due date. I spent time in an incubator and when my mom went home from the hospital, she couldn't bring me home. She was unhappy about this but it wasn't her fault; I had to be 5 pounds before I could leave the hospital. I understand now from doing inner child work, that my first feeling of abandonment began here.
My dad grew up in a family where drinking alcohol was acceptable and considered the norm. My dad worked hard to support us but he hated his job and would stop at the bar frequently before he came home. I never got to know my dad well. We would just have Sunday dinners together. My dad would fall asleep on the recliner or while soaking in the bath tub every other evening. I would feel a sense of loss when I saw how my friends had nice relationships with their fathers. I know my brothers also felt this loss.
We went to Catholic school. Parochial school is from first to eighth grade. The class size was large, 50 students in a classroom. We had either nuns or lay teachers. Back in the 60s, the teachers had permission to hit us. My third-grade teacher gave me nightmares. My 4th grade teacher was a male and he would beat the students. We all cringed as we watched our fellow classmates being beaten with the wooden pointer stick.
This male teacher lived on the same block as me. Despite my fear, I remember one time when I was walking home, I saw this teacher walking ahead of me. I called his name and ran up to him to walk home with him. Somehow I hoped if I spoke to him, I would help soften him and ease what made him so angry.
The discipline was always strict. Every month we were brought to church, for the sacrament of penance, to confess our sins. In the classroom, if you were caught chewing gum, the teacher would put the gum in your hair close to the scalp. It is sad because I remember how fellow classmates, who were jokesters, like Robin William types, had their spirits broken. We went through the 8 years, making fun of the teachers as a defense mechanism for what we endured. Many of us went to Catholic high schools including myself. This was in the 70s. I loved the 70s. I was too young to be a hippie but I loved what they stood for, peace and love. I loved the expression flower power and I knew they were right. Flowers do bring us healing.
Before I continue, I do want to share with you more of my childhood, before school. I used to see sparkly light energies when I was a child. I called them the “all-colored things” for lack of a better term. My family couldn’t see them. Sadly, because I felt different and thought there was something wrong with me, I became afraid of my ability to see them and I then stopped seeing them.
I also remember a time when I woke up during the night by hearing voices in my room. I rolled over in my bed and saw 4 figures standing around my bed. I blinked my eyes to see if they were real and they were still standing there. They didn’t say anything and they didn’t move. I didn't feel afraid, I just rolled over and went back to sleep. I told my mother in the morning and she told me I was probably just dreaming.
Our house had a small yard in both the front and back of it. I loved the flowers that grew there. I felt sorry for the people who decided to replace their garden with a cement patio. My garden was my refuge, my sanctuary. My neighbor had a mulberry tree that I loved to spend time underneath it. It was a magical place where all my troubles disappeared. As a child, I wanted to write a poem about the flowers and their colors. I couldn't get past the first 2 sentences. When I began my healing as an adult, the poem flowed through me. Click here if you would like to read it.
I struggled with feeling conflicted. I have always believed in past lives. This also went against the teachings of the Catholic church. I distinctly remembering when I was a child, while being driven in a car on the highway, I was amazed by all of the elaborate bridgework on the roadway. I thought, this has really changed a lot since the last time I was here. The more I accepted this belief, this notion of reincarnation, the more it helped me to understand about past lives. I realize how much they actually influence our present life.
I have also always believed in both Mother and Father God. At a very young age, I had questioned my mother about the Lord's Prayer that begins with God, our Father. I asked, Why is it not God, our Mother? My mother couldn't give me a good answer. As I studied, I learned that in the ancient language of Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke, he used the word, Abwoon, to begin the prayer of connecting with God.
The language of Aramaic is a language of vibration. The words are meant to be spoken out loud to intone this vibration. There is no single English equivalent word for this. Abwoon has 4 distinct sounds A BW OO N. It actually refers to oneness, creation, the birthing and and oneness entering lifeform.
The Mother, the Divine Feminine, was dropped during translation into modern day language. I understand now that Mother God was deliberately wiped out in history, out of fear, fear of what the Divine feminine can accomplish when working in unison with the Divine masculine.