Energetics of 08'

I hope this blog has been helpful to those of you who have taken the time to read it.

I've been inspired by all of you who have emailed me this year.

I had many thoughts on Change, as did the whole country.

When I look back over my 08’ I realize the catalyst for breaking open change in me was
the Matrix Energetics training.

I did it in February and by the end of November, I had a new direction, better health, deeper understanding and pure appreciation. I asked for this, but, I never thought two words I barely ever used (quantum and physics) could be so transformational.

The essence of the year became a prisim of love and light.

Color has a vibration that is completely enticing.

Love is a frequency that is fulfilling.

May you have the most colorful, fulfilling and exciting new year.

Thank you,

Marla

ps....I have to acknowledge Max too, my organic computer!

In Truth We Stand, in Lies We Fall

The frailty of our economy, those in charge of our money, the ones we have relied on, who said they would help others, the biggest financial institutions; a house of cards.
Where did they get the idea that this was OK?

I have determined from the template of my own family that this is where it all starts.

If we look at the compromise in this house of cards, it starts in the fundamental structure of the family.

The first basic human need is security or safety. Trauma and victimization undermines that basic need. A traumatic experience, emotional and or physical, frustrates the needs for security and lead people to feel the world is dangerous. I'll get you before you get me.

Our inner cities cry with the blood shed of fatherless males trying to survive. The inability of people to resolve emotional conflict within the home is the result of more than half of homicides. There is the other part of unhealed trauma, the need to escape through drugs or alcohol.

Heads of corporations, heads of state, governors, senators, presidents, all acting out their childhood wounding. Are they better than the drug dealer whose marketing skills are not as honed? Has capitalism created a world of spoiled narcissists, or are the wars, low self esteem and lack of emotional security to blame? ....probably all.

Trauma of the emotional and physical nature upsets positive identity. People feel diminished worthless, otherwise why would such terrible things have happened to them?
Trauma undermines feeling connected to people and it skews a person’s reality. Look at any fundamentalist leaders. They create their own reality, a house of cards so to speak.

A narcissist has to make their world a certain way and if that world is threatened then those who challenge the narcissist risk annihilation.

How hard one fights to erase or color the truth will only perpetuate the inevitable, and haven’t we seen that up close in our own lives, not to mention with how things are crumbling around us?

Like scavengers trying to salvage something valuable from a wreck? Ill get mine before the house tumbles.

The truth is, the house already fell a long time ago. That is where we have to start ... looking at the truth. The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.

In truth we stand, in lies we fall.

Zen Intent

Zen in the Art of Archery is thus infused with comments about aspiring not to hit the target, but rather struggling to attain an egoless state in accordance with the "Great Doctrine" (Herrigel 1985: 78-79).

The idea of taking action by picking up a bow and arrow, focusing on a target and with intent shooting the arrow, could be applied to all of the actions we take.
What moved you, and propelled you to take certain actions?

Seeing it from a Zen perspective is interesting.

Were we forced by outside circumstances to yield, or pushed by some internal fear? Mongol forces of life set to destroy us?
What ever the motivation, we all took actions. It might be interesting to see how we accomplished things.

I have found that we move mountains when we actually share with others what we intend to do. Perhaps it is the invisible support of the universe, or the human fear of shameful repercussions we might need on some level to be held accountable. It is compelling to think of freeing the action and trusting it to be. I guess that is what I do all the time as a psychic medium. I have to trust and freely allow to show up what will.

Many of us set out with great intention and did not have the resolution we "wanted", but there might be merit to things not working out the way we want. Our efforts may be more than just something personal, perhaps the trajectory of what we intend has a greater purpose.

The idea that the arrow is not intentionally "let go" by an archer, but rather naturally "gets free" reflects an understanding that the aim is to reach a level where it is not "I" that shoots, but simply ‘"It" shoots’.

What will get set free this next year?

Holiday Voyeurism

The recent cold snap in Los Angeles has uncovered a few bundled Christmas memories; easily forgotten with many years of 70 degree weather.

Stuffed into a Sears and Roebuck snow suit, I gaily climbed in for our nighttime Christmas lights car ride. First through town, with wreaths strung high, steeples aglow and Jesus framed in neon, then past the truck stop where scattered farm houses covered in blue snow beckoned me with glowing amber living rooms and the quick smear of colored lights on a Christmas tree.

Families settled in, stringing popcorn, paying bills, watching wheel of fortune.

I carried my seasonal voyeurism to Milwaukee, where wool and fur muffled carols and bitter wind denied normal sight. I braved walking home in old seal skin coats I sewed up with dental floss, air tight, and just like new. Bus rides noisy and too bright to enjoy looking into the lives of others.

Chicago where I huddled against the brittle plastic window of an L Train wondering what was being cooked in the much to close to the train track kitchen of a three story walk up. Who was home for dinner; were they happy and did they speak of love as they cleared the table?

Cleveland covered with treacherous pot holes and broken streets under deceptive blankets of snow. No time to look into anyone’s windows as I steered to defend my life, my first car, on guard until I was in the safety of the rotunda where I worked.

New York at Christmas was a maize of steps, dragging body and bags up and down to trains with no views, until I could rest on the slushy streets of Brooklyn Heights. A coat on sale at Macy's rivaled my old seal skins; my defiance of winter.

The brownstones bore no spirit, so I chose the bustle and the smiles of the Garden of Eden grocery store to soften my face and commune.

The blue snow of the farmland memories still touch my soul, but I am in my home now and I have found other ways to keep warm on the longest night the year. I still drive to see the lights, but I need not look into the lives of others, unless I am invited.

In the World of Karma

He pleaded his case- the wedding ring of his murdered wife he wished had gone to his daughter, snapshots of what gave his life meaning to his son. These things that were HIS. “My things, I had every right to take back," he said.

He didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he was sorry.

In the desert town of “ya win some ya lose some,” his number was finally up. His gun tootin, unmasked posse just trying to retrieve his belongings, heard their sentence.

Had the judge allowed him more air time, we might have heard more about his sorrow. What he was really sorry about we didn’t hear.

This icon of self-aggrandizement, a world unto his own he made, ruled, and when questioned, could not bear the loss of his identity, so he cut them down in the walkway of a condo.

I thought I might feel jubilant, having worked on the case 13 years ago. My target, the killer of Ron Goldman and Nicole Simpson. My subconscious led me to pinpoint on a map Rockingham. I was simply saddened by all the loss; no luster in prosecuting the perpetrator.

What could be the lesson in this loss?

I believe Nicole and Ron were sacrificial lambs to raise the consciousness about domestic violence. The disaster of his first trial cast light on every crime lab in collecting and preserving evidence. Mistakes of that public magnitude would never again be tolerated and the illusion that Orenthal James Simpson might come by for dinner, disappeared in the female African-American community.

Had the chickens come home to roost in Vegas or was this the projected path of a narcissist?

The day he was sentenced, I was tormented about another case I was working on, when a book high on my shelf fell and snapped me out of my thoughts. A Course in Miracles opened to lesson 46 : God is the Love in which I Forgive.

It was the clap of a book to the floor that reminded me, only God knows the statue of limitations in the world of Karma.