Ah,
there it is: The memory of the paper
within my chest. The 8.5 X 11 sheet of paper, plain white; I
notice it dangling: telling me my purse is
ok. Let me explain. Mania, like bipolar as a whole, has its own
spectrum – I’m talking the frenzied, fast talking, mind flittering end of mania;
like some of you with too much to drink, or the buzz on from something else. I had a bunch of new credit cards, for me a
bunch could have been one then, but I had more.
And I couldn’t find my purse.
Didn’t I always know exactly where my purse was? Wasn’t I paranoid enough already to not let
it out of my sight? And yet it seemed to
be nowhere.
I
was in a cheesy “resort inn” bathroom with what seemed like a literal bevy of
other women. In anxiousness I asked
everyone loudly, “have you seen my purse?
I need it right now!” And that’s
when it came. So odd! To describe it I finally settled on the
dangling paper. It was such a solid peaceful feeling! I could no longer feel the anxiety or the
mania. Wow! It truly seemed a miracle. No purse, just a conviction I needn’t panic –
no need. Whew! So now what?
I moved out of the crowded bathroom, went back to the conference room, my
mind cleared; I remembered talking with folks in the third row. There it was, undisturbed, on the floor by
the chair I had sat in. My credit cards
were not maligned – until I, myself, tackled them later, as a manic always will.
I
tell you that experience for a number of reasons. One, ‘tis (or has been) the season where we
talk peace a lot more than usual. That
experience was many years ago and I have always held on to the memory for the great peace it brought me. I don’t recall doing anything different than
my usual to receive that. I believe it
was an incredible gift. I believe it was
a lesson for me or teaching, somehow. I’m
certain I was meant to remember it and share it.
Secondly,
I had another experience somewhat like that in reference to one of my sons,
many years after. My son is immeasurably
more precious than any purse or any number of credit cards. There was more even to that experience but
the key connection was that feeling –
that peace. I have to say it like
this: the peace that surpasses everything, understanding, indeed.
Those
of you who’ve had experiences anything like that; I encourage you to keep them
in the forefront of your memory. Hone
the sharpness of your memory of them by talking about those experiences with
people you know you can. Match them
together when there’s more than one. I’m
convinced they mean more than we know and they can succor us time and again.
So
that what I say next does not seem so abruptly out of context, I’ll let you
know that it is in reference to Abraham-Hicks and all the vortex talk. I never really liked the term vortex too
much. I connected it to destructive
forces of nature, the toilet and too many letters at the end of the alphabet,
the v and the x, beginning and end: how
about I picture my purse. I could hang
it in the center of my chest cavity (like that piece of paper I spoke of
earlier), carry it with me always, know where it is and access it. Speaking of accessing it – what just now
worked for me personally is thinking of Mae West’s walk in “I’m No Angel” and
reading my blog posts in realityvbliss – maka me happy – and there I am – I’m
in! Voila! Cool! Cool!
Cool!
See
ya, or I should say, write to you, later, AZ folks. Be safe.
K
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