one woman's journey to wholeness…

Archive for June, 2011

“Conversations with God” II 10/12-14/07

time for deep communing...

“Conversations with God,” II: Journal Entries—10/12/07 – 10/14/07

10/12/07

Toni

You know what, God; all of this cancer information is a bit much. It’s as if everyone is afraid of cancer. Like it’s this BIG SCARY THING. I am not afraid of it. I think I’m more afraid of putting chemicals in my body but then everyone has me spooked about what will happen to me if I don’t! What do I do, Lord?

I know in the end I will follow my own heart. If I take chemo, it will be a fear-based decision. But I’m afraid not to take it. What should I do, Lord? All things being what they are, what makes best sense? But I actually don’t know how things really are. I only know what they appear to be. And we are told to ignore appearances, for appearances or physical reality is but a reflection, a three-dimensional representation of the beliefs, emotions, etc., that we hold in consciousness…What say You?

Immediate Inner Response:

At this moment, TR, you do not have the decision to make. It is not time yet. You will see Dr. S. on Monday and he will give you the facts from his viewpoint or perspective. You will make decisions as you go along, remembering that chemo will not kill you if it’s not your time to go; and believe me, child, you still have much left to do in this lifetime. Fear not! Just continue enjoying each and every day of your life as you are doing now. Do not worry about tomorrow. Stay in the NOW—in the present. Make decisions as the time for making them unfolds before you.

10/14/07

Toni

What do I really, really want?

The direction and tutelage of my Divine Soul; to no longer live by the decisions of my mind-personality-ego but to permit my life to unfold day by day, step by step from that inner place of knowing; knowing that all of my needs are met even before I am aware of what they are.

1:43 p.m.

Phew! Overdid it again. Boy do I overestimate my physical strength. Bought too many things; the bags were too heavy; won’t do that again. There is a huge difference between walking around your apartment and walking in the street and shopping and carrying a load of groceries home. From now on I will limit my outdoor trips to the bench where I’ll sit in the sunshine!

4:10 p.m.

Feeling so sad. Lonely. Down. Bored. Woman here—the aide. She’s done all of her work already; in just 1 ½ hours. She now has another 1 ½ hour to go. Wish she could leave early so that I could be alone for the rest of the day. But she has to “clock-out” by telephone; won’t get paid for the three hours if she doesn’t put the time in. And so, I have to baby sit the home health aide.

When did the sadness begin? It was right after I spoke to R and J. J had R call me from the park. He had told her that I had undergone surgery. I only confirmed to her that it was serious, that I was healing but wouldn’t be back to drumming until next summer. That made me sad. I so miss drumming in the park.

Also felt low when I got back from shopping earlier and had to come to terms with the reality of my physical condition; had to accept the fact that recovery and healing will be a slow process; that Speedo Toni has to slow down.

What am I to be doing while my body is healing, God?

Immediate Inner Response:

Understand that this is a long journey. You will not be healed and up and about and running the streets in a month or even in two or three months. This is a process. And you have been stilled despite yourself. You understand that the stillness that is required of you now, could not have been achieved without something major knocking you down and putting you out of the game. You would not have just stopped on your own. I know it and you know it. So, be still, my love. Allow your own divine soul, the Christ Part of you that is ME to finally emerge from the place where you, the ego-personality, has kept it hidden away; in the background, following the ego-leader, round and round on that merry-go-round of a life that you’ve been living since listening to your father and that psychiatrist when your daughter was still but an infant.

You must journey all the way back to that fork in the road and meet up with that young woman again. You are now free; no children; no pets; nothing but your life stretched out ahead of you; years and years more of life, a whole new lifetime before you, in which to do it over again; to do what your soul came to do before it was so thoroughly conditioned by family, racial group, society, peers…

Who are you, really? Where and how do you want to spend the rest of your life? You have more time left now than you’ve already spent from that time at the fork in the road. Go back there. Find that young woman. This time, follow her and not your father and the psychiatrist.

Slow down. You have plenty of time. Slow down. There is no rush.

Toni

And so, today I put forth the container of my self-Self to be filled and I let my Divine mission unfold before me.

Declaration of Intention- 10/14/07; Sunday, 4:52 p.m.:

I intend to find and connect with my Soul; the Essential Self that came to this flesh body to serve a unique function as part of the Godhead on earth during this lifetime. I intend to reach back in time and touch that Soul when She/It was clear; before She/It made decisions that were very much conditioned by family, society—the world. I return to a time before the decision was made to take the path that led to this moment: breast cancer-mastectomy-reconstructive surgery-laid-up-for-months-recovery, recuperation and the resultant creation of a new self.

I intend to surrender this life, the remainder of it, to the guidance, leadership and direction of my own Divine Soul-Goddess Self who came to do something that can only be done by the Soul that inhabits the body of this entity called Toni Roberts. Așe.

So be it on this 14th day of October in the year 2007.

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Blog Page: 6/1/11

somewhere beyond the horizon

Blog Page: 6/1/11

Find myself very much in the present—in the here and now—again today. My journals from 2007 through 2010 lay in a pile at my feet as I sit gazing out at my river.

Perhaps this moment—and every moment of my life—is the unfolding of the journey through breast cancer to wholeness? Perhaps this is what I came to do—to be—the why of my being here-now. Perhaps this me-now is the elusive purpose in being I eternally seek.

I’ve been brought to myself and to my Self; sitting and being in the NOW—in the present—and allowing the doing to flow seamlessly from the being.

For the second day this week, I am putting aside my current journal, ignoring the stack of old journals and picking up my legal pad and fresh Precise V5, extra fine pen: my writing tools. The Writer has awakened. I can feel Her stirring within. And She’s not here to begin another rewrite of my 19 year old unpublished novel. Nor is She here to add another journal to the closet full of the pain, pathos, joy and love documented by me for the past 38 years of my life.

I am pulled in this moment by an irresistible urge to put pen to pad and write for my Blog. The Writer within understands, even if I don’t, how my telephone conversation of just moments before has everything to do with the journey to wholeness witnessed in these blog pages. A journey that began some four years ago when I stood at that fork in the road: that juncture where the sign on the path that went off to the left read: Death, while the other path, pointing towards a long stretch of road to the right, bore a sign which read: Life. I know that The Writer knows exactly how this tale that I’m about to relate fits in perfectly with Her Purpose, Her Direction, Her Goals—in all of this “blogging”.

So, excuse me, journals from the past. Perhaps I’ll get back to you and perhaps I won’t. But right now—in this here and now—I must follow that gentle nudging from within.

Today’s Tale

I just hung up the telephone after talking with my make believe, godmother, E., a woman in her late 80s? Early 90s? I remembered that she had told me the other night that her sister, D., was in the hospital. I think D. must be in her mid-80s. Despite the fact that both women are friends of my mother’s whom I’ve known since childhood, I’m unsure of their ages because E. behaves as if the disclosure of a woman’s true age is a cosmic secret, the revelation of which, results in a long and painful death.

Anyhoo…E. had told me the other night that her 80 something year old sister had fallen in her home and broken her hip. The doctors could not operate for reasons I know not—don’t think E. knew either—and the doctors said that the sister would never walk again. What was unspoken—LOUDLY AND CLEARLY—was the likelihood that this was the beginning of her sister’s journey from the flesh to wherever.

Today I called E. to get her sister’s hospital telephone number so that I might wish her well. E. started in immediately telling me how bad the hip was, what bad shape her sister was in, how small and thin she was because she hadn’t been eating for months and her weight was now down to 80 something pounds, and, she added: as a matter of fact, there was something wrong with her heart and the doctors had wanted to do a procedure and she (D., the sister) said she didn’t want it done—it was something they put into her heart—but her daughter (E.’s sister’s daughter) told the doctors to go ahead and do the procedure anyway—so she (E.’s sister) just had it done…against her will! But then the doctors know best.

I NEARLY LOST IT!

It took every ounce of control I could summon to not scream and yell like a madwoman; the intensity of my anger—the seething I felt within—gave me pause. I breathed deeply and remained human…

“That is why,” I said to her calmly, “I have a living will. So that no one, not the doctors, my children or grandchildren will have my artificially sustained body—with all replaceable parts having been replaced—tubes hanging from every orifice—warehoused in the back wards of some hospital bringing in obscene profits to the U.S. Pharmaceutical-Medical Industrial Complex—perhaps for years—while they “prolong my life” with the latest drugs and gadgets created by white men in white coats in white labs.

“That is not life. That is not living and it was highly disrespectful of your sister’s daughter and her doctors to go against your sister’s wishes and desires as regards her own body and life. How dare they? Is it a basic deep-seated fear of the unmentionable: deathdying—that drives us to the ridiculous rather than let go of our loved-ones? We are going to die. Your sister is going to die. You are going to die. I am going to die.

“Perhaps if we changed our perspective, we could erase the fear of death. I respect the Life that is behind and beyond this living breathing body; that Life from whence my being unfolds. It decides when to leave this human form to travel on to I know not where. And when, for whatever causes, the miraculous systems and organs of this beautiful creation I call my body begin to break down, I will know that it is time to leave. I will know when the end of this mysterious journey has arrived. I will then gladly surrender this life to its rightful Owner: that which lives in, as and through this flesh form; and journey off to the next adventure in being. AND I WILL NOT SUFFER ANY INTERFERENCE BY ANYONE WITH THE START OF THE NEXT JOURNEY.

“So many of our rights are slowly being chipped away bit by bit—while we shop! Do we not have the right to die in peace? Or has that been placed in the hands of those who profit first from assaulting and destroying the human body with pharmaceuticals; and then by keeping it artificially sustained (they call it “alive”) for increasingly longer and longer periods of time. Do you realize the billions of dollars made from ‘prolonging life’?”

Before we hung up, my godmother, E., said to me in a very quiet, thoughtful tone of voice, “You know, you’ve made me see things from a different…”

“Perspective,” I said.

“Yes,” she answered.

Have I altered yours? Even a teensy-weensy bit?

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