As you may have noticed, intuitive thoughts tend to flit around like fireflies inside my mind, illuminating 75 years worth of life experiences, which is why, upon diving into my processor’s well developed sense of depth perception, insights swim up to surface as if to expose love lessons, swirling round and round within the conscious portion of my brain until one storyline, acting like a jumping bean on a trampoline, exclaims—life is short—no time to waste standing in line—Me first! Me first!
And now that today’s self propelled, intuitive train of thought has begun to tunnel out of my subconscious as though all on its own, the spotlight of insight is shining directly at the main reason as to why tracking all the way back, beginning with birth, so as to advance forward through each next stage of my life by relating true stories in an organized fashion tends to stall whenever a current experience feels so consequential as to detour my storyteller’s voice away from yesteryear’s tale so as to free my mind to move forward at a brisk pace toward placing my voice on center stage in real time whenever an unexpected experience crashes head on into my innermost desire to express how much my inner life yearns to calm its current self down by turning my peaceful accumulation of smarts away from diving ever more deeply into yesterday’s potential darkness, where despair has awaited to eat my spirit for lunch, suggesting that my intuitive powers have needed to grow so well practiced as to resolve a many layered mystery, which had escaped my processor's comprehension of family secrets so scary as to have been buried alive during childhood until just now: You see, many years ago, while speaking to an audience of seniors who had gathered in the auditorium of their synagogue in hopes of absorbing that which I'd been asked to express about the role of grand parenting as seen from the perspective of a parent, whose children were not yet fully grown, I heard myself say that it was the responsibility of every empty nester to avail themselves of activities, which would stimulate their minds to feel content apart from feeling fully alive only while interacting with their adult offspring’s family life as if all three generations had continued to reside under one roof where the elders had unconsciously manipulated their emotional needs to rise above the heads of two younger generations as if the tutorage of seniors was to be deemed by one and all as infallibly right.
Needless to say, while standing at the podium, smiling at my parents, beaming up at me from their front row, center seats flanked by couples, who were their friends, my choice of words had successfully sugar coated my meaning, based in the fact that my parents’ facial expressions had shone with pleasure each time they heard ‘the speaker’ in me refer to each of them as exemplifying a style of grand parenting that was much more helpful than hindering to my continued development as a parent, myself. And upon stating the fact that diplomacy, on both sides, proves as politically savvy in your home and mine as had once been true in DC, my parents' bursts of good natured laughter let me know that they got the point without feeling the least bit pierced by finding one or the other as the butt of any story, all of which were true to life, none of which highligthted good guys or bad guys, just family members, made up of three generations, who'd ‘misthought’ they'd each known best as to what each other was thinking or feeling or believing when in truth, the subconscious portion of our brains keep secrets from our conscious selves. And if we can't tell what or why we're assuming 'this or that to be true' when common sense suggests that it’s almost impossible for the conscious portion of our brain’s to penetrate our defensive walls of denial so as to fathom the existence of deeper truths secreted subconsciously then why believe we ‘know’ what is actually taking place inside two complex machines, readily considered to be your human brain and mine?
Then as my meeting with seniors began to wrap itself up, because I‘d felt as if my very last intuitive thought of the evening had readied itself to be aired, I remember releasing a stream of words, which offered my processor sound reason to feel profoundly affected by the collective gasp released as the minds my audience absorbed one last insight, which floated out of the depths of my mind as though all on its own—
It’s my mindful responsibility to ensure that my spirit breathes one second longer than my body—
Whew! Heavy, right?
Today, I’ve lived to see why a chorus of sages from out of the past thought it wise to swoop down from on high at that very moment to whisper those words of universal wisdom into my ear, thus empowering my presence to give voice to a belief that has instilled my smarts with the capacity to appeal to my intuitive powers to reach ever more deeply into my subconscious so as to aid the conscious portion of my mind to grow past episodic events, which had aroused PTDS to invade my clarity of mind, causing my spirit to feel so utterly exhausted as to crash until such time that with the help of EMDR therapy, my clarity of mind felt fully restored and thoroughly relaxed to the point that I became ever more fully aware of need to remain ever more deeply connected to my host of inner strengths complimenting my personal vulnerabilities, which may crash, from time to time, but refuse to burn as long as the pilot light igniting my spirit is not blown out by a wind so bitter as to extinguish the resilient power of love, which buoys my ship to focus upon my inner compass that guides my brain to calmly pass through each next emotional storm until the sunny shoreline of familial harmony is within reach of every good natured soul that has conscientiously grown toward freeing bygones to go out with the tide, forevermore.
And now that my intuitive powers have clearly stated today’s positively focused stream of consciousness, if you think I had any clue of penning this post upon awakening, today, please think again, because the portion of my subconscious that compelled my fingers to trip lightly all over my keyboard so as to clarify this heartfelt, declarative statement, which empowers the person I've consciously grown to be, today, to interact solely with minds that prove so lovingly forgiving of past transgressions as to breathe naught but good will when in my presence, most especially when every heartfelt offer of positive energy must not merely give lip service to forgiveness, because recent history dictates that my well practiced power of intuition will feel any hint of negative energy stealthily invades the peaceful existence that sustains my strength of spirit during this time of family crises, which directs me to crew my ship with hearts holding onto no secreted disharmonies, which may inadvertently throw my inner strength of positive focus off course most especially since my first five day, in-patient administration of intensive chemotherapy begins, tomorrow—which is only a day away. As to my 5th update concerning the medical plan, which keeps changing based upon my team of sarcoma experts consulting with sarcoma experts in Houston, hopefully I'll have time to post my comprehension of what to expect next before the sun comes out, tomorrow ... as for now, tis time to ready myself as Ravi, one of three perennial sunshines of my life (being that Tony and Ray flew back to the coast, yesterday) is due to arrive, momentarily, being that Steven knows how naturally his daughter's presence lifts the serious musings of my mind with her adorable, high spirited imaginative hijinks—lucky me!
PS—just saw that my 4th medical update has been languishing in drafts, suggesting my believing that I'm keeping up when in truth, my mind is stuffed with so much stuff that's been left undone so as to boggle my sense of clarity without disturbing so much as an inkling of my practiced capacity to center my patience—ooooohm ...
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