Back to Reality

Now that I’ve left that amazing university in my mind and returned to Earth 3D, circa 2014, I’m wondering if maybe there’s a way back. Seriously, the lessons were so much easier without the doubts and limitations of this amnesia we live here.

The latest bomb to drop I learned at two this morning. Depression is a sign of spiritual awakening. F#&! …

That is so NOT cool. Here I am, Patty Pollyanna driving my happy mobile to spread peace, love and joy to all of humanity. Then this dark, Hummer-sized boulder drops in the middle of the road and I slam into it in a brutal head-on collision.

It’s like I’m in an avalanche sometimes, but every boulder I run into fades from memory until the next one. This amnesia is chronic!

This morning, panicked that I’m going to have to get on a chemical solution for my mood swings, my friends (the ones in Spirit who are awake at 2 a.m.!) inspired me to search for “depression and spiritual.”

That’s when I learned the deep, dark secret. Sure, many of us are searching to join Earth in her ascension to the 5th dimension. That’s awesome and all. But, damn, it’s not easy AT ALL. One of the sites I clicked on, Ascension Symptoms at, pretty much laid it out for me.

The list is expansive, and many of the symptoms can be explained away as other things, but many of them can’t.

For example, last year, as I was preparing for the new school year of 2012-13, I bent over to pick up a piece of paper in my classroom. I’m a healthy person. I’ve actually run a few 5K races, but when I stood up that day my heart started racing and wouldn’t stop. The palpitations continued even after sitting still and yoga breathing. Forty-five minutes later, I drove myself to the clinic where it was suggested that I go to the hospital. In the hospital, they did two days’ worth of tests and they came up with — nothing. My heart is healthy as a horse’s. Since then, I’ve done research.

Yeah, you got it. Palpitations are an awakening symptom. This has happened twice since then, but now that I understand, I just sit and breathe and wait for the wave to pass.

Other symptoms come and go with minor notice: migraines, loss of appetite, ringing and buzzing in the ears, the need to commune with nature — watch me randomly pull into a park to put a hand on an especially impressive tree. Weird, I tell ya! But I’m not crazy, I swear. Trust me, I’ve wondered that, but they tell me crazy people don’t think they’re going crazy.

Okay, so I’m not exactly healthy as a horse. In 2007 I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis after complaining of an odd sensation in my feet. They did tests and decided I have the brain plaques that they tie to MS, where the body fights itself. But the MS hasn’t taken me yet. I’m fighting it. My Soul won’t let my Body give in.

Maybe I am crazy, I think the MS is a symptom of awakening!

So, what to do about these symptoms?

Experts remind us that these symptoms might be symptoms of something more severe. Check with your health professional first. Because I had a full check-up, I now know that my palpitations do not have a physical origin, so I can sit it out until the palpitations pass without fear or concern. After all, we should take care of ourselves — this is our only body during this process. Keep it healthy and protected.

Another suggestion is to follow your inner guidance always — if my gut is knotted over something, I follow-up. And, as I continue growing spiritually, I try to clean up my diet. It’s hard, but I’m trying. To control my MS, I take vitamins and have fresh veggies as much as possible. But I’m not perfect. I should go Gluten-free. That’s my next goal. I think eating more naturally and less chemically is crucial as our bodies assimilate into the higher vibrations.

My advice to myself and any who are also feeling the symptoms is to consider treating ascension symptoms holistically. Maybe some Reiki or other hands-on healing would help, as well as natural remedies instead of the harsh medications that many times come with a list of side-effects.

All the heavy, ascension stuff aside, though. Just breathe and ground and love, my friends. I can tell you that what waits for us is amazing. My heart floods with warmth when I consider the possibilities of the coming years. I don’t know how it’s all going to unfold, but judging by the world my teachers wove for me in the dragonfly’s university, it’s going to be worth it.

And remember, Namaste –

I honor the place in you in which the entire universe dwells.

I honor the place in you which is of love, of truth, of light, and of peace.

When you are in that place in you

and I am in that place in me,

we are one.


The Dragonfly’s Student


The Memoir Contest

The contest was deliberate – write your memoir in six words. How can I encapsulate my life in six words? Well, in the words of Barney Stinson from How I Met Your Mother – Challenge Accepted.

I mean, really, I’m a writer, and I’ve lived a pretty interesting life. Really, no joke. At first, like everyone else who is yoked by society’s expectations, my response was “Oh, no. Little ole’ me? The interesting stuff hasn’t happened yet.”

Not true.

In fact, not only have I accepted this challenge, I will use it to explain what’s been going on in my blog.

Here’s my contest entry:  Should’ve run when judgment’s noose threatened.

Plain and simple. My life has been determined by what I’ve let happen based on what I thought others would think. See, the “judgment’s noose” that “threatened” was my own stoic beliefs.

If you know me personally, you’ll understand. The countless opportunities missed with my writing and self-deprecating humor that “I’m not really a teacher.” 

I have allowed my life to be charted by what I think other people expect from me – Oh, no. I can’t disappoint my … parents, writer friends, teacher friends, students, former students, husband, family, Spirit friends — (yes, even those friends who only want what I want!) 

The noose has been firmly in place around my neck since childhood. It’s my fault and only mine. Nothing can be gained by laying blame. It’s my life, actually. We are the creators of our own reality, after all.

Now, how does my six-word memoir speak to my life? Easy. If, every time I started judging myself I had run toward my dreams instead of standing frozen, I wonder how much I would’ve accomplished.

As for this blog.

Writer, now coming into her spirit name of Faith, is essentially me. Up to now, though, her lessons have come in my mind. Teacher, the dragonfly that first visited me in my classroom years ago, spoke through images that I transcribed for this blog.

The characters lived in a perfect world between ours and the one beyond, what many know as Heaven.  For Writer, it was a Near Dear Experience, but I didn’t know where Teacher was leading me. I didn’t now how long the classes would continue or what the final scene would be. I focused on the lessons that were meant to help me understand my questions and doubts.

Then, against every aching bone in my body, Teacher decided I was ready.

Faith began remembering what brought her to the university campus, no matter how much I fought it. She remembered the accident that sent her into this lengthy NDE.

The only thing she could do then was follow the golden cord attached to her body on Earth and come back to my life.

And then the moth lay her eggs on my finger.

They (my spirit friends) assure me this blog will not die. They say the lessons will continue from this side of the veil, but I sobbed when Teacher said good-bye. I know it wasn’t a forever good-bye. He’ll come back when the time is right, and he’s always a spiritual phone call away. Like a parent teaching a child how to swim, he has stepped back to let me learn.

He’s left me with other teachers, and my Beloved spiritual guide and advisor has returned to the place I cherished so many years ago. Teacher once told me Beloved had been his teacher. That’s encouraging. Maybe one day Teacher and I will be equals.

Back to my six-word memoir:

Should’ve run when judgment’s noose threatened.

The memoir only marks a period of life. That period is over. It is time for me to run from old habits.

From the Dragonfly I have learned to live an authentic life, without judgment. I am taking a running leap now.

I’m not worried. I know that wherever I land, I am protected.

Much love and light, my friends.

The Dragonfly’s Student




To the reader:

To the reader,

From the Teacher.:

After years of guidance, I believe Writer is ready.

Her faith is strong enough. She will fly alone.

Give her a chance, please.

The Teacher


From the student:

I am resigned to this reality that my lessons will continue in this graduate school that is the human experience. Despite the fact he has released me, I will always be, most devotedly, his student. He is, after all, the one who found me and set me on this path.

The Dragonfly’s Student

Faith and her transformation

Moth in my classroom. Thick and a deep blood red, she at first looked to be dead until she spread her wings and revealed the sunset-tinged eyes on her wings to scare off any likely predators. After modeling for us briefly, she spread her wings even wider and took off, landing on the boxes on top of the bookcase.

I took the students’ attention off her presence until later in the day, during a different class. When she hadn’t flown out, I knew I had to save her from dying on a box in an ancient, dusty classroom.

Climbing on a chair and stretching toward the corner, I picked up a dusty fake potted plant. I brushed through the leaves in search of a hint of red. Nothing. I put the plant on my desk and returned to the mysterious land of the hidden top shelf. Memories started to trickle. But memories of what?

 Vague memories. A dragonfly. My outstretched hands; him flying into them.

 I shook it off and reached for another fake plant. Then an old, student-made clock. Finally, I found her in an empty Easter basket.

She was impressive. Powerful and so beautiful. When a student named her Delilah, I knew that was her name. A strong, powerful name for such a majestic symbol of transformation.

But this symbol was afraid of my high school students. She flew around the room searching for something. We opened windows.

That’s not what she wanted. At one point, Delilah fell behind a file cabinet, but my students and I could not be deterred. We needed to rescue her.

When we did, she rested and trembled, seeming to breathe heavily. That’s when I first heard her. Later, when the classroom was emptying and it was just me and one student, she called to me again, but not my real name. It’s a name I don’t know that triggers a flood of recognition.

“Faith,” Delilah says. Her voice is weak and ragged with the raspiness of a rough run. “It is time.”

“Time for what?”

Her answer is simple. She stepped into my hand.

“You have been given a wealth of lessons, my dear,” she said. “It is time for you to remember and share those lessons.”

An image flashed in my mind. The day of the massive highway accident I barely escaped. Suddenly, I knew. I remembered the accident, the blood, the golden cord. I remembered the classroom on that perfect university campus. I remembered Irreverent Ivan and Hope. I remembered the dragonfly in purple and blue and his magical lessons.

Something stabbed at my heart. I fought the need to cry.

Delilah in my hand, she tickled my fingers and moved toward my palm, leaving four eggs in their sticky sacs. She turned and tickled my palm again before leaping off toward the window.

“It is done,” she said. And I understood.

She laid eggs where she knew they would be safe. With me.

She flew out the window with only a brief glance backward, knowing, I felt instinctively, that she had given birth to a mysterious truth that I would nurture and birth.

And when I placed the eggs on a leaf in the garden downstairs, the dragonfly that hovered nearby seemed to approve.

“It is done,” he seemed to say. “You are ready.” Then Teacher flew away.

I couldn’t understand why I felt like hiding in my classroom and sobbing.

No, that’s not true. Yes, I could understand. Change hurts sometimes.

Until next time, my friends, I remain, ever faithful,

Faith The Dragonfly’s Student


The Moment of Truth

The weather is beautiful today. I open the windows and set my laptop under the overhang in the attached patio to enjoy the soft breeze blowing through the trees. It’s hard to concentrate on my schoolwork, though. Instead, I use the wind as my own personal musical muse. It takes me back to a time and a place before memories exist.

Then the gentle coo of a pigeon brings me back a memory, but it’s not one I remember. Not at first. It yawns at my soul and opens a hole that becomes a cavern. I remember a white pigeon outside a beauty parlor on a long-ago wedding day. “The dove was telling me I was right,” I remember out loud.

Then I’m no longer alone.

“What else do you remember, my dear Faith,” the voice behind me says. I don’t need to turn. The warmth coats my suddenly awakening fear with the sweetness of Teacher’s voice.

“A pigeon, but I thought it was a dove. Why do I think it was my wedding day, Teacher?”

“What else do you remember, please?”

As if he’s been waiting for this moment, Teacher perches himself on the edge of my couch. He holds my hand in both of his.

How dangerous is this memory?

“Is this a memory? It feels like it is, but I don’t remember this.” He motions for me to continue. I close my eyes and listen to that still, quiet voice in my heart. “I remember not being sure if this wedding was right. I took the dove as a sign from my guardian angel that everything would be fine. That this marriage would be right. This is a pretty intense dream.”

I glance up and his penetrating blue eyes pierce me and open another memory inside of me.

“I don’t think it’s a dream.”

I wait. In the past, when I’ve wondered about lost, ghostlike memories, I’ve sped through the questions and filed them in the crazy-dream file. Now I know, in some weird, powerful way, that this is not a dream.

“You’re beginning to remember.” His words are a direct response to what’s going on. There’s no question there.

“What am I remembering?”

Teacher removes his purple baseball cap, slowly shaking his head and, in my own head, I hear his thoughts, “I cannot be the one to say it.”

My soul shaking as if I were caught in a snowstorm without a coat, I open my mouth and let loose with a truth that’s been hiding for too long.

“I used to be married. I was happy. That’s when I was a teacher. Why couldn’t I remember being married?” I answer my own question, “I would have missed that life too much if I remembered how happy I’d been. When was that life, Teacher?”

The memories come like a flood. I remember that accident I almost had. The one where I barely missed dying. I don’t think I missed it. Did I really die?

“Teacher, where am I?”

Then I can’t hold back the tears. Now I remember. The accident. The blood. Fighting with my guardian angel. Fighting with Teacher. He is one of my angels.

Then the veil shimmers away. I see the light that surrounds my body like a shield. I see attached to me, like a cable holding back a hot-air balloon, a golden thread that disappears into a haze.

“You can go back, my dear. Now that you remember, you can go back home. The thread that ties you to your body is still healthy.”

The question is, do I want to go back to a life I barely remember? Do I want to lose my friends here? My teacher? My Beloved?

I’m still not convinced. Teacher places a hand on my face and I’m flooded with images I remember immediately. The wedding. A baby. Another baby. A family. The hugs of grateful students. A second wedding just-for-fun many years after the first. Birthday parties. Laughter, and much, much love.

“Go back, my Writer. We will still be here for you. All you need to do is visit.”

Then I wake up.

With much love,

The Dragonfly’s Student

Say my name, Teacher

“What do you need, my dear.” I hear his voice, but Teacher is nowhere around. Then I see him.

The brilliant blue and purple dragonfly is perched on the stick that used to support a purple orchid but now just waits for a new bloom to appear. He tilts his head toward me and seems to blink his eyes before lifting off toward the edge of the patio of my apartment. He hovers over a spot, goes vertical and spins until Teacher materializes. He shakes his arms as if to verify the transformation before stepping toward me.

“Is this better?”

“Yes, sir. Please sit. Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh, niceties? Are we avoiding something?” A quirky smile appears on his face.

“No. Of course not. What would I be avoiding?” I call out from the kitchen. “Is water okay?”

“Yes, my dear.”

I hand him the glass. The ice tinkles musically as he makes his finger a swizel stick.

“Are you having a little identity problem, dear Writer?”

“Um, yeah, I guess, Sir.” I shrug, embarrassed to admit what I’m finally going to say. “Sir, when I came here I came from somewhere. I had a name. I had a family. I had a job.”

“Yes. That is true. Do you regret following me?”

“Never. I will never regret doing this.” I pause, going over the list in my head. I don’t want to drown him with my questions, but I also don’t want to forget anything.

“Faith,” he says, matter-of-factly.


“Your name. You can’t remember your name. Wasn’t that one of your questions?”

Mouth agape, I nod.

“Your name is Faith.”

I can’t remember my other questions.

“Actually, your name is more like music than a word. It is the song of an early morning dawn or the whisper of a nightingale. It is a beautiful name.” His voice itself sounds like a song as he sings the praises of my name. I wanted to ask what I’m supposed to do with my life. I wanted to know if I’m supposed to write for him. I wanted to ask why I can’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. I am Faith. Nothing else matters.

“Are you happy now, dear Writer?”

“I am very happy. Please, call me by my name.” I never thought I would want to release my Writer title, but now I have a name to identify myself. I am not a job, I am Faith.

“The name feels right? You have been searching for your name, haven’t you?”

I nod.

“And now that you know who you are –”

“Everything is right. It’s like I’m still the same person, but now this name is giving me a sense of validation – I am not something, I am me.”

“Will you still be my writer?” It’s a question, but there is no real question in his voice. He knows the truth.

“Oh, most definitely! But now I am not defined by what I am. I am not just a writer or a student or a former teacher.

“I am Faith.”

He looks at me, his hand cradling his chin. “Is there a lesson in this, dear Faith?”

Shrugging, I turn my thoughts into myself. What is the lesson?

“Um, well …” I look into his face hoping for some inspiration.

“Are you the same person you were before you found your name?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not that.” Invigorated, I walk toward the window to gather my argument. “I’m the same person I was without the name, but now I know I am not a job to everyone else. I am a person with a name, and I guess I really shouldn’t care what other people think, but I guess I was starting to believe that I could only be the Writer, that that was my only existence.”

Turning toward him, I spread my arms out. “I am not what I love to do, I am a being who loves living. The writing is what I love to do, it is not who I am. I guess that can be said for anyone. Irreverent is not only an impertinent student, he is Ivan and he is curious and kind and bold.”

I look at Teacher and the truth hits me.

“I guess it’s true for you, too, Teacher. You are more than a Teacher.”

He smiles. “I certainly am more.”

Silently, he nods and bids me goodbye without saying more or telling me his name.

I guess once we know who we are, we don’t have to make a show of it.

Namaste, dear friends.

 The Dragonfly’s Student