Faith in the Flow

I’m living an experiment. The hypothesis: If I am aligned with my Highest Good, my Ultimate reason for being incarnated here and now, then the Universe will support me. Whatever I need to fulfill my Soul Contract will flow to me easily and with little effort.

flowing water
(Photo: Freeimages.com)

I haven’t always felt this way. For the first 46 years, I lived by logic, grasping the reins of perfection with a stranglehold. Now, I’m a recovering controlaholic on an ubiquitous twelve-step program — let go and let God. Why the 180?

Cliché or not, death changes everything. On 3 September 2008, my dog Amber died. Such a small thing, you think, such a trivial thing — the loss of a dog. No, it wasn’t. No, it isn’t. When Amber died, my broken heart split open.

Before Amber died, I was all about being logical and linear.  I was closer to my dad than my mom.  Dad was a Ph.D. in electrical engineering and was nothing if not linear, logical, rational.  Mom was almost the polar opposite — artistic and quirky.

I was my dad’s daughter, believing in the power of science and always asking for proof.  Faith was not in my vocabulary.  I believed it if and when I saw it.  Although I had my mom’s penchant for rule questioning and going outside the box, I adhered to my dad’s assertion that hard work, planning, and intelligence would rule the day.  Nose to the grindstone and all that.

For the first 46 years of my life, apart from minor blips, I lived by the book. I studied hard to get good grades to get into a prestigious graduate school to get a well-paying job to create the life I wanted. And I did.

But when Amber died, my heart and mind cracked open to a magical new world of possibilities. I considered metaphysical subjects I had pooh-poohed before. One field of study flowed seamlessly into the next, bread crumbs showing me the way. I was voracious — a drowning person gulping for air.

I studied animal communication, shamanism, Reiki, psychic development, mediumship, near- and after-death experiences, reincarnation and past life regression, the Free Soul Method, New Paradigm Multi-Dimensional Transformation, channeling, and everything in-between.

Since Amber died, I have learned that there is more to this life than meets the eye.  I have learned that we are spiritual beings having human experiences. I am still learning how to live from love instead of fear, how to listen to my Soul instead of my head.

And so one day when Soul said, “Wouldn’t it be fun to sell your house and most of your possessions, leave your home of 25 years, buy a motorhome — never mind that you’ve never driven one before — and travel?”, I said, “Why not?”

It wasn’t logical, it wasn’t rational.  It was faith in the Flow.  Which brings me to an RV park in rural south New Mexico — living my experimental life.

Family squiggles

I’ve been thinking a lot about family. Out here on the road, 1,800 miles from the family home, I’ve been thinking about my four sisters and two brothers. I’ve been thinking about their daily lives — their loves, their hopes, their challenges.

Teri flew out to visit me last month. Anne and Tim celebrate birthdays this month. Tim’s training for a marathon. Jim had his right knee replaced yesterday. Mary Rose juggles work, family, and dissolving an estate. Cathy is performing and training.

And, although us seven kids connect through Facebook, texts, emails, Skype, and to a lesser extent, phone calls — are we all just squiggles wriggling further and further apart?

How do you keep siblings together? In the beginning it was easy. Mom and Dad were the central focus. All of us kids circulated around them. We shared summer vacations, birthdays, 12 years of Catholic school, “Don’t tell Mom’s,” and “Don’t tell Dad’s.” But then Mom and Dad died. So, now what?

My family - Then
My family – Then

Squiggles scatter, doing their own things and rightly so. Squiggles intend to varying degrees to keep familial ties strong and vibrant. But is it a lost, albeit honorable cause? For these squiggles have their own families now. Their own wives and husbands and “significant others.” Their own in-laws, past and present. Their own children and yes, even their own grandchildren. And then there are friends — the families the squiggles choose for themselves.

So, is it feeble to try to maintain family ties when the super glue that binds has eroded? Is blood really thicker than water? It depends on whom you ask and on what day. On holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas, a hearty “yes” bounces off the walls. But on a Thursday in early February — crickets.

My family - Now
My family – Now

Families may live geographically near and be strangers. Or, families may live far apart and feel close in spirit. Like the friend we talk to now and then, picking up loose threads of conversation like it was just yesterday, families may not need physical proximity to feel the bond.

Families are no accident.  They are kindred souls voluntarily incarnating at the same time, by hook or by crook, to help each other evolve along the infinite Ladder of Life.

And so, whatever happens in the squiggly world of families, yours and mine, remember one thing. It’s all good. Even when it’s not.  Especially when it’s not.

The many lives of Carmella B. Higgins

Disclaimer – Any resemblance of blobs of light to anyone here, there, or anywhere, is purely coincidental. And everyone knows that there are no such things as coincidences.

Deep down inside, we are all just blobs of light, as bright and vibrant as helium balloons.

Families of blobs of light. Friends and neighbors of blobs of light.

A radiant rainbow of blobs of light
A radiant rainbow of blobs of light

All shapes and sizes of blobs of light.

A radiant rainbow of blobs of light — persimmon, coral, tangerine, chartreuse, plantation blue, eggplant — and some colors that we can’t even see.

The blobs of light exist in the Great Blob of Light, like drops of water in an endless ocean.

The Great Blob of Light surrounds the blobs of light in an ocean of Love, just because they are.

The Great Blob of Light
The Great Blob of Light

The blobs of light have work to do but not like 9-5 jobs here on Earth.

They help the Great Blob of Light in many ways:

— they teach
— they guide incarnated blobs of light
— they study for their next level
— they travel to other dimensions and interesting worlds
— they explore, inside and out

And always they grow and learn and love each other.

The blobs of light exist to create and grow and spread their light wherever they go which isn’t hard because they are blobs of light after all.

The blobs of light are happy and full of capital “L” Love.

Life is good for the blobs of light.

This is the story of one blob of light. A little teal-ish blob of light. A little teal-ish blob of light named Carmella B. Higgins.

Carmella B. Higgins, blob of light
Carmella B. Higgins, blob of light

Carmella loved her teal-ish hue. It fit her perfectly. Her hue was her.

Carmella lived in Summerland — a place where it was always sunny and in the mid-70s with just the right amount of humidity that didn’t frizz her naturally curly hair.

Summerland was heavenly, the perfect shade of sunset, day in and out.

There was a lot to do in Summerland. No one ever got bored.

Carmella liked to sit under the great old trees and listen to their wisdom.

She liked to play with the animals — large and small, predator and prey.  All played together in Summerland.

Jungle Animals Bliss Mural by Howard Robinson
Jungle Animals Bliss Mural by Howard Robinson

As perfect as Summerland was, sometimes the blobs of light wanted something different — a change of scenery.

Like Carmella.

“Time for another lesson!” Carmella shouted, bursting to overflowing. “Yay! I can’t wait!”

Carmella danced with glee. She couldn’t believe that her wish had been granted — it was her turn to go again. The Great Blob had heard and answered her calls.

“Yes, you can go dear Carmella,” the Great Blob said, loving eyes beaming.

“Yay!”, the little teal-ish blob of light cried,” Yay, and thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Carmella met with the Incarnation Guides to pick her next life on Earth.

A medley of possibilities flashed across a huge screen in the sky.

Carmella looked at several lives before narrowing it down to five, and then two, and then one.

And this is what happened next…

To be continued

The story of Roan

Continued from “The story of Amber”

Finding Amber was like a high-stakes scavenger hunt. I drove to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania for the National Siberian Husky Show and talked to top breeders. I saw puppies in Maryland, gorgeous show-quality puppies with hazel eyes in eastern Ohio, and fearful backyard puppies north of the Twin Cities. All were cute, some more than others, but none felt quite “right.”  And all along I watched for clues.

Roan at birth, 10 December 2008
Roan at birth, 10 December 2008

One night after countless hours surfing, I found Siberian Outpost.  The home-based breeder was located a few hours northwest of Milwaukee, Wisconsin where I grew up, where my family still lived, and where I returned every Christmas. Two litters of puppies were soon due. One of the mother’s names was “Brandy Amber.”

Coe’s Golden Opportunity was born on 10 December 2008. His sister — the only female — was named Golden Champagne. Anyone who knows me knows that champagne is my favorite beverage. I put a refundable deposit down on the little male, anxious to see him in person.

Meeting Roan for the first time, January 2009
Meeting Roan for the first time, January 2009

When I first held the three-week old puppy, I knew that he was The One. Amber said that seeing her in person would make the difference. She would not make a permanent entry into a body until we met and I said “yes.” I cupped the small puppy in two hands and said “yes.”

Amber also said that she would be independent early. As I watched the breeder’s weekly videos, my puppy was surprisingly independent and mellow.  While his litter mates caroused around him like maniacs, my puppy stayed out of the fray, calmly playing with his toy, oblivious to the chaos. And although he was male, and not the female I expected, my puppy wasn’t the alpha male. He had no aggression.

Roan at 4 weeks old
Roan at four weeks old

Finding Roan’s name was another synchronicity. In a second call with Teresa, Amber said she liked the name “Luna” but that was a girl’s name. “Yuka” was based on the Chinese word for “moon” — a cute name, at least I thought so.  The very night I got a tag engraved with the name, however, my friend Alfredo had another dream. He saw horses and received the name “roan.” There are blue roans and red roans. The puppy was red with blue eyes. The name was perfect. I tossed the Yuka tag into the garbage.

I asked Roan if he had anything to add to the story. “Not really. You pretty much outlined the big stuff. But the really big stuff is the stuff of our love, love that has survived countless lives and that will survive countless more.”

In Ft. Lauderdale, March 2014
Roan and me in Ft. Lauderdale, March 2014

I love you too Roan. Roan is my partner in crime. He has enriched my life exponentially. I have met countless people through Roan — back when I lived in Reston, Virginia, and since being on the road. I wouldn’t be traveling without him. He is my best friend. I am thankful everyday to have Roan in my life, even when he yanks on the leash. I yank him back so I guess we’re even.

When I think of how Amber-Roan and I have been together through so many lives, in so many forms, the miracle of it all awes me. Two souls, closely wound together through infinite time and space. Wow. How thankful I am. Thank you Roan. “Thank you Liz,” he answers, wanting the last word.

The story of Amber

My beloved canine companion, Amber, died suddenly on 3 September 2008, just a month shy of 14 years.  She died as she lived — all out.

Amber and Casper, two days before she died
Amber and Casper, a few days before she died

I found Amber when she was two years old. I wanted an adult spayed Siberian Husky that was like my friend Laura’s two dogs.  Not only was Amber like Laura’s dogs, she was their litter mate! The breeder had kept Amber to show and breed but Amber almost died with her first litter and was subsequently spayed.

After more than a few growing pains on both of our parts, Amber and I settled in, quickly becoming inseparable. Men, homes, and jobs came and went but Amber was always there.

Shortly after Amber died, she came to my friend Alfredo in a dream.  “I’m coming back,” she told him.  Alfredo and I spoke to animal communicator Teresa Wagner a few days later.

Amber confirmed that she was indeed coming back. “I promised to be with you through every significant period in this life and I will be there. I promised. I love you larger than the whole Earth. What we have is unbreakable.”

Amber and me, April 2006
Amber and me, April 2006

I asked if Amber and I had been together before. After a long pause Teresa replied, “I had to double-check because of my bias but you and Amber were baleen whales together.”  Teresa explained that living in the ocean was the closest thing to being on the other side. (Two and a half years later, I would snorkel with Teresa and the humpback whales off the Dominican Republic, but that’s another story.)

As things on Earth started to shift, Amber became a wolf, something I had no interest in.  Then, I became a human, something Amber had no interest in. This was the first time that Amber and I had been on Earth together in many, many incarnations.

Amber was very specific about how she wanted to come back. She loved being a dog and especially loved being a beautiful, traffic-stopping Siberian Husky — the closest breed to the wolf. She wanted a form similar to her old one and, more importantly she wanted to be beautiful.

Amber in her show days
Amber in her show days

“Coloring doesn’t matter to me at all,” she said, “but what does matter is to be beautiful. To be beautiful on the Earth brings things that are different from when one is not beautiful. I have experienced both and so have you. There is with beauty that which attracts the kind of things I want to attract for us all.”

She went on:  “I also very much prefer to come in a female body…that makes it easier to be who I really am. Some of the males struggle with aggression.”

Continued with “The story of Roan”