Mary Ellen Flora's Blog

One summer morning, my friend Dee and I went out to the Nooksack River where our friend Donna was living.  We planned to spend the day with her and her two granddaughters who were four and six…can’t remember their names now, it was so long ago.

We walked half a mile down river to a beautiful little sandy beach, spread blankets, set up chairs.  We had brought juice and water, but no food.  The kids went to play, digging, floating sticks, wading, making big splashes throwing rocks.  The water was shallow, warm and slow-moving.  The little one even took a nap in the shade.  They were so busy being kids.

People float the water here for a distance of several miles.  There are a couple of rapids upriver and sometimes “tubers” capsize, and lose gear, hats, etc.  We’d wave at people floating by on their rafts, air mattresses, inner tubes and ice chest in tow.  What a day we were having.  It was still early in the day, but the girls were starting to be hungry.  They ask for lunch, wanted to go back to the house.  Donna pointed out that it was a long walk and if we went now, we wouldn’t be coming back after lunch.  What did they want to do?  They decided to stay longer and went back to playing in the water after they had juice.

A short time later just a few minutes actually we heard them calling and pointing upriver.  I looked up and saw…down the river came shiny…what?…floating in the lazy current.  The girls were so excited as they waded in, gathering up the shiny objects floating by and brought them to show us.  My mouth dropped open!  They had several cans of pop (different flavors, by the way) and many mylar wrapped granola bars.  Lunch.  The river brought them lunch.

We stayed longer at the little beach on the Nooksack.

The End!

I learned some lessons that day.  I think about that day from time to time, now that I’m old.  I feel like I’m just beginning to know what being creative means every day, every moment.  Thank you, Mary Ellen

When I was nineteen, I moved from Atlanta, GA, to Bellingham, WA. Before departing, I had a vivid dream of looking through a window that was suspended in the blue sky over the expansive ocean. The dream gave me a sense of hope and well-being before moving to the opposite corner of the country from everything I had known.

My plan had been to travel with a boyfriend from San Francisco to Olympia, WA, where I had some friends. Due to our breaking up soon after I arrived in California, I was suddenly on my own traveling up the west coast with characters that I met along the way, like a couple who lived on a bus and primarily ate sprouts. I had never seen so much food growing along our way and enjoyed devouring ripe figs and blackberries. I met a hearty local called Poncho who kindly offered to accompany me further north since he was also heading in that direction for college. It was 1980, and some of our transportation choices were risky. One option offered a beautiful view from a boxcar of mountains and valleys. We made it to Olympia safely, and from there, I caught a Greyhound to Bellingham, arriving at sunset. I felt like I had come home.

This is really just the beginning of the story. Looking back, I see that I was creating all this as a spirit, although I was not so aware of it. My world was opening up magically, like my dream of the window suspended over the ocean.

About a year later, a roommate told me about the CDM Spiritual Center. She said, “I think you may like this place.” I remember taking my first meditation class and hearing that “I am spirit and create my reality.” I was flooded with a sense of relief, and a light came on because I knew that if I created it, then I could change it. Up to that point, I had been related to like I was a body, instead of I have a body.

In my early teens, I began to explore natural healing. For example, I tended to get bronchitis if ill as a child, and my mother would give me antibiotics. At one point, I refused to take them and was able to recover using herbal remedies instead. It must have been hard for her to hear my deep cough, but I was devoted to my learning process. I continued to explore alternative ways of healing, and she was supportive. A few years later, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. It was hard for me to watch her suffer and thus increased my desire to learn about healing.

The meditation class gave me spiritual techniques for releasing concepts  and energy that were disturbing or did not work for me and to fill in with my own unique vibration. Remembering my spiritual abilities was the next step to working with my body as a healer. “I create my reality” could seem like the good news or the bad news, but either way, it acknowledges my free will to make choices that shape my life.

I continued to take all the classes at the CDM Spiritual Center, did the Clairvoyant Training Program, and practice meditation, reading, and healing to this day. Over the years I have learned that there is no “right” way to heal. Healing is change and unique to the individual learning experience. My teen self that refused to take antibiotics was owning my way of relating to my body. Finding myself independent and on the road as a young adult taught me that I was stronger and more resourceful than I realized. My mother’s illness, which eventually led to her death, showed me that she is so much more than her body, and her way of making a big change at that time was to move on from her earthly creations. I thank the immortal being that is my mother for giving me a body in this lifetime.

When I wonder how I will get to the other side of a difficulty, it helps to remember some of my healing stories. My dream of the window suspended in the sky symbolizes a view of life in which I am spirit, and part of the all that is represented by the ocean. What a gift it is to be spirit in a body on this earth.

Meditation is the cornerstone of all spiritual practices. Meditation is often referred to as prayer. Whatever the name, meditation is a quieting of the mind-body system and an opening of the spiritual system. The purpose of meditation is to communicate with God.

People have sought communication with God for various reasons- from despair over the chaos of the world to the desire to rejoice in the beauty around us. The use of a daily communication with God, or meditation time, allows us to always have this spiritual interaction available to us at all times. We do not need an intermediary, a special place or anything except ourselves and the ever-present Cosmic Consciousness.

Because meditation is spiritual communication, it is necessary to have faith that we are spirit and that the communication will become real as we allow it. All spirit seeks communication. Meditation allows our awareness of ourselves and all others as spirit, and helps us to see and have our spiritual path on earth. It helps us gain and maintain our spiritual perspective. It assists us to transform our physical reality to our spiritual purpose.

There are many forms of meditation on this earth. There are meditations to assist the soul to be more in tune with the body and some to assist the soul to be separate from the body.  There is no perfect meditation, there is only the meditation which is correct for the individual soul according to its present growth.

One goal of meditation is to learn to balance spirit and body. As the purpose of meditation is to reestablish one’s communication with God, we need to be aware that we are spirit, and the body is our communication system in the physical world. When we connect the body to the rest of reality, we connect ourselves as spirit through our communication system (the body)  to our  chosen learning medium (the planet). When we do this, we learn that we need to clear our body of all foreign and debilitating-energies in order to communicate most clearly through it.

This cleansing process through meditation takes time and space, as do all things in this reality.  When we begin cleansing the body, we discover the energy and information of many people we have interacted with during this lifetime.  We also discover inappropriate concepts we have brought with us from past lives. We have also stored debilitating energies such as pain, doubt, hate, criticism, judgement, guilt and grief in our bodies.

This list of cleansing projects may seem insurmountable; however, we do have an entire lifetime to work on them. Also, all during this cleansing process, we will be communicating as spirit with God. This enhances our clarity, and it becomes easier with every passing day of meditation. The important thing is to continue with your meditation and not be discouraged when you discover another project, and then another. As with all things in the physical, meditation requires time and attention.

The times of communication with God during meditation assist you to pass through the difficult learning experiences of life. Whether the learning is a present time creation, the clearing of past experiences, or the cleansing of foreign energies, the quiet time spent in communion with the Cosmic Consciousness gives us the strength to continue our pursuit of God Consciousness.

Once you have broken through the clouds, so to speak, and experienced the beauty of communication and oneness, the process becomes so meaningful, it is difficult to eliminate from your life. You begin to enjoy your body and your body begins to welcome you.

The main ingredient to assure continued meditation practices is strength. It is not necessary to be intelligent. talented, pure, or anything else. You must simply be strong and determined enough to continue until you reach a spiritual awareness level that will carry you on from there.

The spirit needs to reestablish its seniority over the body and relearn how to communicate through its body.  The body needs to learn to accept the spirit and to be cleansed of the inappropriate information stored within it.

As most people find it difficult to simply sit still and focus enough to reach this state without assistance, there are techniques to help one to attain a space of quiet.  One meditation technique can help you experience yourself as spirit and  your communication with God.  Like anything else in this reality, you have to use it for to work for you.  You cannot read it or think about it and consciously perform the technique to experience any result.  Use this mediation technique of grounding every day.

In early September, when I saw that the next Inner Voice theme was “Community.” I thought maybe next time there would be a topic I wanted to write about. I felt I didn’t really have anything to say about the Church Community; I go to Sunday Services once in a great while and take a class or workshop now and then, but I’m no longer deeply involved.

As September passed, a little voice within started to chatter in my head: saying that, by my actions, I was giving to the Church-that I am an actively participating member of the Church Community.

I’ve been doing more: more readings-often passing along information about how to ground. “Owning and using what you’ve learned,” my little voice said, “Gives back to the Church.” A friend called to “just talk;” we laughed a lot; and managed to heal ourselves and each other as we talked. “Supporting other Church members,” said the nag in my head, “Gives to the Church.” My friend, more “involved” in the Church than I, told me the Church was in a big transition growth period. As I was sending the Church a big Rose Healing, the comment, “Healing the Church, even from a distance, is certainly giving to it!” popped into my head.

Then, I got Doc’s letter to all Church Members. I have always acknowledged, in my own mind, the security I feel knowing the Church is there. I feel safe, knowing should I ever get stuck, out in this wide world on my own, that I have a place to call for help. Having the support of a community, no matter how far physically distant, has given me the security I felt I needed to do many things I otherwise probably would never have attempted. It is time now to pull together and draw strength from each other. I will probably still only come to Sunday Service when I’m close to Church already taking a class or workshop now and then to keep current. However, I will also continue to give all I can from a distance and validate my membership in the Community which is our Church. All this because, as my inner voice said in a parting shot, “When you validate your membership in something, you give it strength.”

“Trust is faith. Faith is believing in what we cannot see.

For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:18)

Trust is letting go. Trusting God is also trusting yourself as spirit. As spirit you are aware of more information than you can bring into the body. As spirit you do know what you are doing.

A story: There is a woman climbing and she gets to a place where she loses her footing and falls. As she is falling, she grabs onto a root that is growing on the side of the mountain. She is only holding onto this root; the rest of her body is dangling in midair. She knows how far down it is because she climbed the mountain. In desperation she calls out, “Oh, Lord, HELP!!!”

The Lord replies, “Let go of the branch.” She holds on even tighter, terrified at this thought and then yells again, “Is anybody else up there?”

What about you? Where are you in this story? Are you in the air falling? Have you found a branch to hold onto that you know isn’t strong enough to hold onto forever? Are you afraid to let go?

Are you looking for someone or something other than God- words other than, “Let go.”?

Where are you?

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you and if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.” (John 14:1-4)

Trusting God – is a leap in faith. Trusting God is not a partial decision.

Trusting God is letting go – letting God. Right beneath her dangling feet there was a ledge.

Amazing that CDM is almost 50 years old.  When I started CDM, with my late husband Doc, I knew it would be exciting.  It has definitely been a powerful life experience.  Both the physical and spiritual creative levels of founding and maintaining a spiritual organization are challenging.  The journey has evoked every human emotion and a great depth and height of spiritual experience.  The physical challenges started immediately and continued throughout the years.  The physical joys also ran through the years on every level.  The spiritual growth and learning have been the greatest reward.  Teaching spiritual information in a physical world is an amazing experience.

One discovery I made is that an organization has a life similar to a person: conception, birth, childhood, adolescence, adulthood, and death.  I believe CDM is finally entering its adult stage, no longer dependent on its parents.  The present transformation of CDM is frightening some participants because it requires the end or death of some aspects of CDM.  This transformation is the beginning of a new life for CDM and a wider outreach for the spiritual information.  Just as a person grows and changes, so does an organization.  I am looking forward to seeing what exciting adventures CDM creates in adulthood.

Throughout this journey, the main lesson I have learned over and over is to have faith in God.  Whether you use spiritual techniques or not it comes down to faith, that unwavering belief in something beyond physical comprehension.  Faith in my purpose, path, and mostly faith in God have made it possible for me to create and nurture CDM over the years.  I have faith that CDM will continue to shine a spiritual light into the physical world.

Meditation: what is it? How do I do it? What effect might meditating have on my life? Where can I learn to meditate?

Meditation is a turning within, where you can have all your own answers.  It’s a way of getting to know yourself, focusing on yourself as spirit.  In our world as we are growing up, we learn to focus our attention outside ourselves.  So, to turn within is a new concept for many people.  As you learn to focus within, you tune into your power, your information, your uniqueness.

In CDM’s meditation classes, we teach grounding, centering, running energy, and other techniques on how to create what you want and more.  Grounding means creating an energy connection that flows from the area near the base of your spine to the center of the earth.  Grounding helps your body feel safe and allows more of your energy as spirit to come into your body.

Grounding is also a way to release unwanted energy, like a cosmic garbage chute.  Grounding can assist you to deal with releasing fear.  All the techniques taught in class are for use in your everyday life, they become a way of life.  Here’s a story of using grounding to make a scary situation safe.

“I went on vacation to Hawaii and went scuba diving for the first time in my life.  After a lesson in a pool, our group was ready to go for a dive in the ocean.  Underwater was a new world that both fascinated and frightened me.  I used my grounding as a way to let go of the fear I was experiencing. 

Suddenly there was a lot of turbulence.  It was like a strong wind underwater and it pushed my body around.  Again, I focused on my grounding. I was no longer afraid. I held onto a rock that was on the ocean floor.  I grounded and held onto that rock.  As I grounded, my body relaxed and my body, that rock, and my grounding were one, unmovable.  I felt so secure.  I was so relaxed.  It was interesting, I found a calm down there under the water that was unlike anything I had experienced before.  All around me was motion, a couple of scared people, and yet, I was calm and peaceful.  I know my calm assisted others to relax as well. That experience had a profound effect on me and assisted me in certainty with my grounding.”

It all started Saturday afternoon with a phone call from a friend.  She had someone with her who wanted a spiritual reading and wanted to know if I would talk to her.  The friend got on the phone and said, “I want a healing,” she replied.  It was about all I could get her to say.  So mentally, I shrugged my shoulders, set up an appointment for early Monday morning, and figured I’d play it by ear.

When I arrived to do the reading, I was greeted by a very frightened lady clinging (psychically if not physically) to our mutual friend’s hand.  “I want a healing,” she said again, determined.  I explained that an aura reading would be a good way to start, and we began.  I still get chills when I think about the level of fundamental change this lady created during her reading.

This woman was terrified of getting a reading.  Petrified,  not of what I might see, but of what I would tell her about what I could see.  Shame and self-judgement were on al rampage in all aspects of her aura.  All through the reading, however, it was clear that she had made a true commitment to heal herself.  She was afraid of pain and judgement (both her own and from others).  She was certain that God had long ago abandoned her.  She was almost positive that if she started to deal with the pain, she would go insane.  Above all, she was afraid that the lie was true; that she really wasn’t worth the effort to heal.

When I reached the fifth layer of her aura, her longing for a connection with the God of her heart was a tangible thing.  It was almost as tangible as the fear that she would never be able to experience (let alone have) a connection between herself and the Cosmic Consciousness. This was a connection she had always wished for but couldn’t remember ever having.  I began to realize that having a reading, for her, was an act of great courage, a statement of self-trust and symbol to herself of her own internal commitment.  When she cleared a symbol that had blocked her access to her seventh chakra, I got to watch something truly beautiful.  She instantly started to wash self-forgiveness mixed with Joy and amusement through her entire body.  I was watching a fountain of gold energy in action.

At the end of the reading, I walked her through a short meditation.  How to ground, center, pull her energy back to a more manageable area and how to put out a communication line to God.  I said, “Just say Hello.”  She started to cry.  “You got an answer back, didn’t you?” Frantic nodding.  “Well, say hello again, and this time, let yourself receive.”  One quick nod and then a smile of peace.

What was my lesson here?  I finally realized something I’d been hearing for years.  It is a huge healing to be in the presence of someone truly committed to healing themselves; someone dedicated to moving forward on their path.  For me, this reading was a graphic demonstration of how healing myself can be a healing to others and a healing to the community.  It forced me to validate a way in which I give to the Church (and to those around me) that I usually don’t perceive as giving.  It was a nice lesson for 8:30 on a Monday morning.

Over and over, she’d told me, “I want a healing.”  Well, she got one; and so, did I.

(Author’s Note: I took the Sunday School Teacher’s class over a year ago, and writing this article is a culmination, though surely not the end, of a growth period that began then.  The class was about working with children and being a child, looking at one’s own childhood. I decided I would write down everything I could remember about my childhood because those years were so traumatic for me.  I wrote about the first seven years of my life, growing up during World War II.  It was been very important for me to use my CDM taught techniques, to run my energy daily, and to communicate with my God to remind myself that I am spirit.

That’s what those early creations were all about, to see that I am spirit, despite the constraining and painful experiences of my childhood.  It feels wonderful to be letting those experiences go, and to be creating in the present.  As I acknowledge the pain of those years, I can let go of it).

I was born in a small seaside city, Parnu, on the western coast of Estonia, one of three Baltic nations facing western Europe with the Soviet Union flanking the eastern border.  Parnu was noted for its white sands and its curative healing waters.

Estonia was an independent nation between 1917 and 1939, with a history of foreign occupation since the 1200’s when the German feudal knights and the Catholic church invaded and converted the native population.  The feudal Germans were followed by the Danes, Swedes and Tsarist Russia.  Along with most of Europe, Estonians were serfs, but freed serfs by the late 1800’s.  The soviets invaded in 1939, then the Nazis, and when the Soviets returned in 1944, my family left the country.

I was born six months into the Nazi occupation of the Baltic.  My mother and father had agreed that we would try to wait for my father (an officer in the cavalry division, fighting on the eastern front against Soviet invasion), and leave a message with the mayor of Parnu if we couldn’t.

We waited, but he did not come to us, and so my mother took me, my sister and my “aunt” (no relation, but more like a mother to me) and we left for eastern Europe, choosing to go in the direction where the Soviets were least likely to be-from one enemy into the arms of another.

I have no recollection of Estonia and the above information was provided to me by others.  I have been told that when I was two years old, I threw my sister’s shoes into the brook for the frogs, since they had none.  I like that idea.

One of my earliest memories of the war is a bomb shelter in what I assume was Germany.  I must have been 4 or 5 years old, maybe younger, I remember women and children, people running for the shelter, everything being grey and white, running downstairs into an underground cellar or room, people sitting there together crowded and still and waiting and frightened.

I remember being on trains and the click clack sound of the wheels in the night and of the whistle blowing.  It was very comforting.

I remember an attic room in a displaced persons camp.  It was dark and I was alone.  I had the mumps and we could not put on the lights because my eyes were sensitive.  I was hidden there by my mother who was at work, because she did not want me in the infirmary.  There were lots of contagious diseases around, and tuberculosis was a big fear.

I remember having to wear, in winter, a woolen undershirt which chafed my skin so unbearably that I would walk around stiff and holding my breath so that I would not feel it.  I argued endlessly with my mother to not have to wear it, but to no avail.

I remember being inoculated, waiting in a long line with other mothers and children.  There was a general air of anxiety and waiting.  Lots of people, and children crying.

Scattered memories of hanging on to another child’s toy, leaving the room with the toy and having my mother make me give it back.  I hung on crying.  I couldn’t understand giving up the toy, as I had none.

I played outside by myself for hours with twigs and branches and dressed them up and used match boxes for beds for the twig dolls.

I remember being taken off a swing in the central common square by my aunt.  I was swinging on a swing with no underpants, having wet my pants and taken them off.  I had done something wrong, and people were disapproving, but I didn’t know what was wrong.  I was ashamed.

I remember being in school, under 7  years old, and being demoted a grade because I couldn’t do an arithmetic problem.  I was scolded in front of the class.  Then at another time, I was promoted when I got something, again in front of everyone.  I was very shy of doing anything in front of people.  It made no sense to me, this system.

In the same DP camp, I remember awakening in the middle of the night in the barracks where it seemed like 50 or 60 people were all sleeping in the same attic-like room in separate beds.  My aunt would awaken me and give me a cup of warm milk to drink.  I would drink the milk and whirl the end of my braid in my ear to help me fall asleep again.  In later years, my mother told me that my aunt had hollowed out the tin cup so she could get more milk for me as part of our ration.  My mother was angry because she was in charge of seeing that everyone got equal rations.

I remember the same room and its rafters, which were high and made of wood and they crackled at night in the dark as hundreds of roaches scampered about and fell down from the rafters on to the beds and the people sleeping in them.

I remember arriving from some other city and waiting for my aunt.  I saw her before she saw me.  Her face was filled with anxiety and fear and apprehension and some hostility, or so it seemed to me, as she searched for me.  I was embarrassed and frightened by the anxiety and fear I saw.  If she was grown up and my source of love and safety, and she was afraid, then something really was wrong: wasn’t she invincible?  I didn’t tell her this because I didn’t know I was upset or that she was upset.  People didn’t talk about those things.  I just knew fear.

I remember walnuts. Green hills scattered with houses, and trees so full of walnuts that all you had to do was shake a tree and an abundance would scatter to the ground and I would run here and there and pick up as many as I could fit into my skirt, which I used as an apron for this purpose.

Again, somewhere in Germany, I remember fields of red poppies swaying in the wind.  The sky was blue and it was summer time.  Everything was still.  There were no people and there was no war.  I was the only one, alongside this small stream by the open fields stretching as far as I could see.  I ran to explore the river and watch it flow gently by, all the poppies swaying gently.

There were walks through the Black Forest with my aunt: mushrooms and the smell of pine needles and moss.  Every walk was something I eagerly looked forward to.  It was quiet and fascinating.  We walked along a small path that led into forest.  There was sunshine and the cool of the forest and indirect light coming through small openings in the tree cover.  We walked side by side, not talking, but taking comfort in each other’s presence.  There were blueberries bunched together in open areas and the smell of dryness as the sun shone down and ripened the berries.

Then it was Christmas, and I was being held by a stranger, a man, in a large festive hall full of people.  My mother was standing next to me.  I was scared and wet my pants and the man’s suit.  My mother was always good about explaining away any problems so that nobody was angry.  Santa Claus the German version, was on the stage and all the little children were in great fear.  He had a booming voice and made a racket and said he would whip the bad children with his birch switch.  He was calling children up to the stage by name.   The room was dim and his booming voice echoed through the room.  Certainly this must be hell if there was one.

I remember a dog, a black and white mutt, sitting on the wide low steps by the kindergarten complex.  Everyday when I came home, he was waiting on those steps for me. When he saw me, he would jump up and down with joy and race over to me.  I liked him.  We were great friends.  I cried when we had to leave him behind.  I was told he would live on a farm with people who would take care of him.

In that same compound, I remember the military police.  They were chasing some teenagers, in their jeep.  The boys had poured several cans of white paint off the roof of one of the buildings.  It was incredible to me that they would defy military authority, which to me seemed all-powerful.

I remember standing still, frozen to the spot, while the American national anthem was played over the loudspeaker across the compound.  We all stood at attention.  My impression was that total obedience was demanded.  I was sure that if I  moved one little finger or breathed too loudly, I would be put into prison.  Obedience to the victorious forces in liberated Germany was total.  Disobedience was treason.  No one, as I remember it, dared to move an inch until the anthem was over: our lives depended on it. I was scared, and I could not hold my body still enough.

In that same American-occupied area of Germany, I remember Americans and how they looked.  I remember men in military uniform.  I remember a woman who was tall and slim and stood straight, though no with effort.  She may have been a social worker with the Red Cross or the YMCA, which was so instrumental in helping the refugees.  She seemed untouched by fear, loss or chaos.  She was from America.  Americans smiled, were friendly, powerful, and had abundance.

The Estonian Evangelical Lutheran Church was our sponsor for coming to the United States.  The church sponsored most of the Estonian refugees. I remember standing in long lines in Germany, getting processed for coming to America.  We children could not believe our good fortune: we were going to the golden land of dreams! We spoke of having soap and towels and of how people there each had a room to themselves.  My favorite daydream was about having terrycloth towels.

Then I was on the ocean liner.  The trip to Boston harbor took ten days.  My family was on board, but I have no recollection of them at that time.  There were people everywhere and there were many people who were seasick.  Finally, I threw up too, over the railing of the ship.  The sailors gave oranges to the children.

I remember arriving at the harbor and walking down the gangplank. Again, I was alone in memory.  There were people waiting, and women with toys to give to the children coming off the ship.  I remember one well-groomed American woman coming toward me with a toy in her hand, smiling.  Then she changed her mind and walked right past me and gave the toy to another child.  I was ashamed that I was somehow unworthy, but I didn’t know why.

Years later, when I was still a child, riding the New York elevated train, a young couple standing near me started talking to each other about how they wanted a little girl just like me.  I couldn’t believe they were talking about me. I had always felt so skinny and unattractive with my tight braids and big ears.  And yet, when I look at my childhood pictures, I see a young child who is sensitive and gentle.  The hair style and the clothes were the choice of others, the hair pulled too tightly to keep it from slipping out of the braids, but I see the eyes as sensitive and gentle.

We arrived in New York City by subway on a hot June night in 1950.  Once the subway came above ground and we got out, I saw the streets filled with cars.  All the sidewalks were lined with cars.  And the streets were covered with loose newspapers flying around in the breeze from the moving cars and subway gratings.  I had no words to describe this experience, it was so new to me.

As a resident of New York, I learned my first essential words of English, which were “shurrup,” or shut up.  Children in the tenement back yards, which were cement, but carried many intrigues and intriguing things, yelled at each other across the fences.  They were feisty city kids who did something about their fear and anger, they used their words.  Thus begins another story, about life as an immigrant child growing up in New York City.

It seemed to me a very long process, leaving Estonia and coming to America where I wanted to be. The body is a strong instrument.  As spirit, I make change, and I  have learned to care about the body and heal it of the effects of some of that change.

Acts 2:28-29: You have made known to me the paths of life: you fill me with joy in your presence. 

In time of crisis, I have turned to CDM for help. Reminding me to stay grounded and to meditate. In the 80’s I found CDM in Portland, Oregon. Learning to meditate, taking healing classes near and far, learning about aura, charkas, etc.

I was struggling emotionally and physically with the passing of my 53-year-old son who was taken from me in 2013 and my husband of 44 years who gave me strength when his journey here on earth was complete. Reaching out for an understanding of purpose for the reasoning, that I had to let him go. I once again turned to CDM to help me with my grief, getting answers about previous lives and our journey together. The insight was comforting and helped me come to grips with what our journeys here on earth were meant to be. Over the YEARS knowing that I could reach out for healing and reminding me to STAY grounded has given me strength in times of need

To know the teachings of CDM are available to remind me to ground, meditate and that healings are within my reach when I can’t seem to center myself. The readings have been right on each time and given me insight to my present time in this life time.