Guest Blogger: Carol Searches for her Mom

A friend of mine found out during the past few years that she was adopted. Her search for her birth mom has become her passion since then. Please read this guest blog post and spread the word.

To My Cherished Birth Mother

I thank you for the life you have given me, my precious Birth Mother.
I acknowledge and am grateful for the sacrifice you made by giving me up to be raised by my parents, Ruth and Ralph Bowers. My mother desired a child more than most can realise and you gave her and myself the opportunity to experience a life as a devoted mother and child in a relationship filled with love.

I am sure you have suffered for this sacrifice. I think giving up a child would be one of the most difficult and heartbreaking experiences a mother can go through.

If possible, I would like to be given a chance to help heal this sorrow by being present in your life in whatever capacity you may desire. I would love to be a real, present, daughter for you, but understand this may not suit you. I would like to extend to you the chance of expanding the love we both already have in out lives with our loved ones. I would especially appreciate the chance to have an extended family and meet any brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, aunts and uncles that I might have.

Being raised an only child in a distant country like Australia, has isolated me from the experience of an extended family, but the circumstance has shown me how to make make a family of friends.

I am a person who has had an unusual life – full of rich and varied experiences and I would love to share this with my birth family.

I would love to introduce you to my own two wonderful sons. These young men are talented and well-rounded individuals, who love their known grandparents very much, but have large hearts to share.

I pray to be given the opportunity to meet you, and get to know you. Although I loved my parents I have somehow always known a chunk of my life was missing, and I wonder if what I may have been feeling was a part of what you were feeling too. I have only in the last six years, been told about you, yet I think I have always known you were out there….

I doubt if either of us would consider ourselves as ‘broken’. I doubt that we need ‘fixing’. What has happened was meant to happen for some reason.

What I am hoping for is the opening of an opportunity to meet, and the possibility of enriching our lives through this meeting.

I have a heart filled with appreciation, compassion and love and I am enthusiastic to share this with you and my extended birth family, if you can bring yourself to meet me.

My intention is not to harm: I am a sensitive soul, myself. We would, very carefully, with great consideration and sensitivity, embark on this experience together.

Please, let us embrace this opportunity. It may possibly be wonderful.

With all my love,
Your daughter,

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The Facebook Challenge

I shared this on Facebook, where the challenge originated, then I realized I have so many other friends with whom to share my thoughts. For you, my faithful readers, I have reposted this and changed it just a little:

I was challenged by my dad’s cousin, Virginia Perez-Santalla, to post three things for which I´m thankful during five days. I won’t do five days, I’m sorry Virginita, because I don’t like these Facebook and YouTube challenges, I’m sorry. Nothing against anyone, I just hear echoes of 1984 and Big Brother. *Shrug* … I will, because you are the one who challenged me, instead make a list of the things I am grateful for:

1) For a kind and understanding husband, Steve Locklin, and just as equally amazing sons, William Locklin and Thomas Locklin. They have taken the recent changes in my outlook on life very well! (For those who don’t know, I’m taking a leave of absence because I need to follow my dreams of being writer.)
2) For a loving and understand family, including my mom, Mariolga Fernandez, and dad, Alberto S Fernandez, for taking the same in stride!
3) For the students I have had over the last fifteen years, for giving me countless life lessons that I’m able to grow from even now, including Katrina Barnard, Anita Torrealba, Grever Martinez, Kayla Smith, Pretty Bossladi, Kevin Ordonez, Kevin Roache, Kevin Rostran, …. the list is endless.
4) For my writer friends, who helped me rediscover my passion year after year, including Marjetta Geerling, Linda Rodriguez Bernfeld, Gaby Triana, Joyce Sweeney, Jodi Turchin, and so many more. They have helped lay the brick and mortar than have been the strong support for this year.
5) For my coworkers at Miami Palmetto Senior High school for helping me pull through every year with a sense of humor, especially Armando Gonzalez, Ileana Vila, Melissa Jacobs, Patrice Bowman, Lisa Dillon (who hasn’t accepted my friend request yet! haha), and Joyce Brislawn.


6) For the friends I’ve made through Channeling and other groups, including Oktobre Taylor, MaryAnn Namaste, Ziba Shahriari Bennett, Jan Drake Bakke, David StarKey, and, most especially, Erik Rune Medhus and Elisa Medhus (!) for introducing me to a life I’ve been denying for too many years. 
7) Most especially, I am thankful for this glorious life and this beautiful world. For the elegant towering and flowering trees I love to lay my hands on to feel their strength, for the green grass I walk through in my bare feet, for the ocean and the lakes and the rivers that run through the continents like Gaia’s own nervous system and which I would never consider wasting on some silly Viral challenge just to save myself a forced donation to a good cause. For the birds that fly and walk or waddle and swim. For the animals that are our pets and the ones who just exist because they are glorious, like tigers, wolves, bears, armadillos, turtles, dolphins and those royal whales. I wish more people would understand how lucky we are to have been given this glorious playground on which to live.

8) For the readers who loyally follow the Dragonfly’s Student and my growth over the years. You are my inspiration to continue my search for spiritual growth and creative avenues to connect with the spirits who love us.

Finally, I will not challenge anyone to do anything more than read the things I am grateful for and to consider thinking about their own early Thanksgiving Day. God bless you, my friends and Namaste to all!

Much love to you, my friends,

The Dragonfly’s Student

… And When Mother Calls, Step Into Her Peace

El Juglador juggled through the messages he felt were meant for me. “Gaia wants you to go to the ocean. You need to dive into her waters,” he said. “You will understand.”

He gave no guidance other than that. I didn’t need anything, to tell the truth. Suddenly I knew. As the ever-faithful student, I heeded the call.

The next morning dawned clear and warm, the sun peeking from the horizon just behind the buildings of downtown Miami. It took a while to drive from my home near the Everglades at the western edges of the county, but the call pulled me toward the sunrise and toward the ocean.

The water was almost like glass. Soft ripples waved. Seagulls called. Fish leapt and splashed. Nature pulled me into the water.

I stepped gently, not wanting to make too much of an impact; wanting to become one with nature, not an intruder. I immersed myself into the ocean, then settled into a sitting position in the shallowness.

I meditated within nature, surrounded not only by air now. I grounded, immersed in her. Ripples shot toward me at one point, as if a school of fish were heading my way. I jumped in fear, then I realized the fear was misplaced. Nothing would hurt me. Nothing did.

Tree on the beach

In silence, I settled back down and listened. Soon enough, I heard her call. I felt her peace. I knew her love. The next time the ripples headed toward me, I waited and watched them cut around me. I felt the energy fill my heart and heal my soul.

I felt her joy and it became mine.

I have always found my peace outside, but never as strongly as these past few years. As my spirituality has grown, my participation at the local health club has withered away. I would rather walk three miles around my little portion of Gaia than bury myself in a cold, concrete building to run a 5K on a treadmill.

Mother Earth is the ultimate spotting partner for my workouts. I need not worry.

Grateful that I had been able to participate in this natural healing session, I knelt on the seaweed floor and raised my arms in a sun salute.

On an oddly similar note … last night my family and I went to see Dawn of The Planet of The Apes, part of the series of apocalyptic movies about a world where humans become subservient to apes. What little ole’ nature-lover me learned from this movie was where the apes lived happily amongst the trees of the Pacific Northwest, the humans were desperate once they lost power. They teetered on the edge of extinction when they lost contact with their electronic devices.

Very sad. But really, I wonder if it will not take a Simian Flu to bring down man. Could humanity simply be brought down by one massive solar flare shot toward our satellites? Are we really that vulnerable?

I urge you, my friends, to take advantage of your little piece of heaven on Mother Earth. Find your strength in nature. Maybe you don’t have a beach within driving distance. Maybe your closest escape is the city park or the little piece of land between where your driveway and the sidewalk meet. Sometimes, you may only have a glimpse of the sun or a whisper of fresh air.

Really, I think it might be enough just to realize that something exists outside the concrete of our cities. Talk a walk. Sit on your car and stare at a starry night sky or at a colorful sunset. Accept that we are part of something greater than us.

I encourage you to look for and consider the benefits of Gaia, or Mother Earth. It worked wonders for me that day.

Namaste, my friends,

The Dragonfly’s Student

A Proud Mama Has to Gloat!

I have some pretty amazing kids.

Sunday morning, my youngest posted a comment on Facebook that made this abundantly clear.

“The shit I find on my newsfeed. People that actually want to see this and disrespect Robin and his family’s privacy disgust me. Robins family literally asked the media and people alike not to bother them so they can mourn his death. But yet the stupid ass media had live feeds from a helicopter after his death pointing at his family’s house. What if his children are on Facebook and happen to come across this picture? Humanity everyone!”

The picture he was referring to was a still of a security camera recording from Robin Williams’ home after his suicide. It clearly shows proof of the act.

The second example of my kids’ awesomeness was just now. My eldest was challenged to the ALS Ice Bucket challenge. He couldn’t wait to climb on board the YouTube sensation that has gone viral. He remembers ALS from the book, Tuesdays With Morrie, and wanted to add his name to the list of people who want to raise awareness of this debilitating disease.


These two examples show how unique my sons are.

The eldest, Wil, has been living with autism, but he refuses to fall victim. Unlike many autistic children, he wants to be involved. He wants to help. Although he still has moments of solitary confinement, he pulls himself out sometimes and forces himself to become part of the community. Although for many young boys, the Ice Bucket Challenge would be easy and fun, for a typical autistic child, the response is to not get involved.

Wil has never been typical.

My sixteen-year-old, Thomas, who started his Senior year this week, is unique in his own way. Unlike a lot of the students who wander in and out of my classroom most years, Thomas does not want to see what happened to this man who represented happiness to many of us and was a visible part of his childhood memories. It’s not that he’s avoiding the news. He just doesn’t think it’s right to invade a family’s privacy the way the paparazzi have done.

These kids were good souls from the moment they were born, but I know their development to this point is also thanks to a multitude of positive guidance from family, teachers and, of course, their father and me. (I’m an English teacher and writer, “me” is proper in this usage!)

This is not to say my kids are perfect. Trust me, they’re far from it. Family battles and necessary punishments have made my hair turn gray at the temples! But I am proud of my boys. I wouldn’t trade them for the world!

Thanks to all who have been involved in their development, including the members of our family, Thomas’s girlfriend, Kayla, and Wil’s former teacher, Karen Uhle – a magnificent woman who guided her autistic students to successful graduation.

I marvel every day at my good fortune. I know the odds are statistically against most children nowadays. I have known good kids who for one reason or another fell down a path that led to temporary, sometimes permanent, failure.

Raising a child is not easy. It’s not for the faint-hearted. It’s not for nannies and teachers alone. Many times, it really does take a village to raise a child! I am grateful to my “villagers.”

Walk-In to Your Truth, Sing Your Song on the Mountains!

Continue reading Walk-In to Your Truth, Sing Your Song on the Mountains!

The Juggler’s First Lesson, Truth

There is no longer a classroom with four walls and a ceiling. This new teacher is nothing like my Dragonfly in that world I now realize was between this world and the next for most of us.

In fact, many times my lessons now don’t originate with this teacher. They come from that place where my mind escapes when I concentrate on my breaths and the music playing as a soundtrack to this new spiritual experience of mine.

For I rejoiced greatly, when the brethren came and testified of the truth that is in thee, even as thou walkest in the truth. (3 John 1:3)

Come to think of it, this reminds me of my reaction the first time I took a graduate-level course. I was shocked that most of the lessons centered on the students and our interpretations and growth. These new lessons originate with me and that place in my heart where I feel Spirit most.

In his own inimitable style, El Juglador, or The Minstrel, reacted to my questions and guided me as I tried to make sense of what I’d just been shown. Initially, there was nothing he said that sticks in my mind, but I will never forget what he did.

Teachers I’ve had in the past have stopped lessons at spots where they want to focus my attention, making certain I truly ingest every morsel of knowledge before moving on. The Juggler is different.

In silence, he would toss his batons or twirl like a drum major leading a college band, leaving me to focus on his movements and the thoughts barreling through my every synapse.

Then, when the lesson had effectively become part of me as if I had been born with the knowledge, as if the Juggler were in my head, my teacher gathered his batons and welcomed me to discuss.

There was no class with whom to share my enlightenment. Just me, my teacher, and whatever natural phenomenon happened to be sharing the space with us.

The first time, it was a fading campfire, a babbling brook at our campsite, and Minnah, my puppy, at my feet.

“It is important that I live what makes me happy,” I said. “I have to live my truth.”

The Juggler nodded and stoked the fire with a broken branch.

“There are so many options for us, so many different parallel realities I could take. I need to choose the one that feels right. Everything else will follow.”

I waited for him to comment. He didn’t. He got up and added a log to the fire, fighting with the dissipating sparks.

Chuckling, I realized this life is not easy for him either. And the laughter gave me a revelation.

“This is where I need to be. This vibration. This joy.”

The sobering fact, though, was that my life needed to change.

I wasn’t living my joy. I was happy in bits and pieces, but I felt like a hot-air balloon tethered tightly to a post in the dry, desert night. I wasn’t living my highest vibration, the one that matches our vibrations in the spirit realm. The vibration I had been living felt foreign to me the moment I returned from that particular vision during my summer vision quest, and as time continues moving forward, the person I was just a few months ago is sick and weak.

The thought of going back to that life, to stifling my need to write, to ignoring my sense of adventure until the next time I had a few days off, dragged my soul deeper and deeper into a trench.

The decision I came to may be the dumbest one I have ever made, or it may be the smartest. I need to live out the truth that is in my heart.

After presenting it to those most affected by my choice, I am ready to share it with my readers.

I am taking an unpaid leave of absence from the classroom. Scary, I know. And I’m going on another road trip. For this one, I’ll have company. Not only Minnah. I’m taking my oldest son to share in this adventure with me. For him, I’m writing another blog. I think I’ll do another for Minnah.

I feel like I’m abandoning my responsibilities, because I am. I accept that many people may judge me harshly for this. I’m ready to face judgment, because I know that if I had continued existing in the life I had built for myself, I would barely be existing.

And I wouldn’t be living.

The lessons with my new, beloved teacher, El Juglador, will continue. And, despite the fact my Dragonfly Teacher has released me to continue my lessons, I will always be his student.

He is the one who originally found me and set me on this path. I hope my readers will be able to limit their judgment of me enough to learn from the lessons I will impart over the coming year, because I know there will be many.

Until the next lesson, I am, dear classmates, most devotedly,

The Dragonfly’s Student

The Story of Thomas and His Big Toe

My baby had surgery the other day to remove a tumor on his big toe.

It sounds worse than it is. The doctor gave it some fancy name. Something like Carcinoma something or another. Suffice it to say, it’s benign!

But, still. My baby had surgery.

It was outpatient and his girlfriend was with us. She and I drank coffee and chatted about books and spirits and hauntings and how Thomas got this growth on his toe. And we shared that factoid with the nurses and doctors, who hadn’t really heard anything like Thomas’s story.

Trust my kid to be unique!

See, my sixteen-year-old, doesn’t like to complain. He’s like his dad in that he sucks up the little things that bother him until they get to be big (like the growth on his big toe!)

So, let me back up a little bit.

It all started at last year’s Van’s Warped Tour concert in West Palm Beach. Unlike the summer before, where we got sunburned and dehydrated, 2013 looked like something worthy of Noah’s ark. Stages were flooded. Lightning corralled crowds under the few concrete shelters. And sometime during the day, as they stood in the crowd enjoying Bring Me The Horizon, Thomas’s toe was stepped on. (He was not in a mosh pit, but is there that big of difference when the crowd is rocking out?)

He told me this as an afterthought because his girlfriend mentioned it. No big deal, he said. It only hurt a little bit.

Fast forward to that school year. He is studying Pre-Vet at his high school, Felix Varela high, where the kids study for their Veterinary Technicians license. They are a rescue, no-kill animal shelter and a barn with a variety of farm animals. The kids belong to the school’s FFA (Future Farmers of America) chapter and have to volunteer in the kennels or the barn as part of their grade. Last year, they had some cows.

I think one of the cows (that’s how I started telling the story!), a steer named Sparky, was being returned to his owner for … well, for what comes naturally to castrated bulls. He has probably become part of someone’s steak dinner or Happy Meal! Good-hearted Thomas approached his old friend to give him a hug. The happy steer returned the sentiment and inadvertently stepped on Thomas’s concert injury. That’s approximately a quarter of 1,200 pounds on my sixteen-year-old’s big toe.

Thomas and his girlfriend, Kayla, on our London trip this past Spring.
Thomas and his girlfriend, Kayla, on our London trip this past Spring.

It hurt, he said, but no big deal. Occasionally, he would complain and we’d offer to take him to the doctor, but he was always more interested in other teenager things. Even his girlfriend was nagging, but he didn’t make a big deal about it.

Then I left on my road trip in June, and his toe started hurting more.

Being a vet kid, he started treating his toe, and telling only his girlfriend, then he walked up to his father with a new complaint, “Dad, my toe is puss-y.” Steve took a look and rushed him to Urgent Care. That complaint was caused by in in-grown toenail. The tumor was found because of that.

As we sat and talked the day of the surgery, his father and Thomas’s girlfriend hoped Thomas has learned from this. I think they don’t know my son. He doesn’t complain unless he can’t handle it himself, but he will handle it himself.

A few weeks ago, the day before this year’s Warped Tour hit West Palm Beach, he asked me to buy him steel-toed shoes. I did. They look like sneakers, so no one could complain about the weapons on his feet, but when someone stepped on him in a mosh pit, it didn’t hurt!

And that’s the lesson my baby learned: Be prepared. That’s a pretty big lesson to master, don’t ya think?