How I started to heal the Damsel

                                           A Time for Peeling away descriptions.

 

After my husband’s death, I feared to die alone., which shocked me. In the past, I have counseled others with this same apprehension.  To discover it had taken over me left confusion.  The damsel knew this dance, so led the way. The path of spiraling down became my journey. My road of choice took me into the alleys of sociopaths.

For six years, I watched myself, as I became a foreigner. Why did I pick men who would not support my vision? Why did I keep attracting those who offer zero safety?

In the law of attraction, we invite what is always on our mind. .  Though I sought someone to save me, my thought form kept me in the victim and damsel role. The saboteur made sure I stayed on the right roads. To my surprise, my life reinforced the same avenues I had traveled before I met my late husband. How did this happen? As explain, the programming never shifted.  What I didn’t realize when I met my husband I was not living from those patterns. The ones that my husband met had quieted the damsel briefly.

Who or what is controlling the damsel, was the million-dollar question, which began the peeling. As my spirit group started to help me understand the need for boundaries, the beliefs that governed the damsel appeared.

People pleasing, doormat, and the victim all aided my bottom line belief. I will not amount to anything. I will need someone to take care of me. Years this instituted my behaviors and my living conditions. It took me three years to recall this sentence. It has a way to hide, while my other traits kept me in line. I realized I wasn’t the victim. My parents passed down concepts given to them by their parents.  I didn’t need to accept these as truth. Forgiveness and love would be the keys to transporting me out of those patterns.

Ho’oponopono would be the method I would use to obtain both forgiveness and love.

 

 

Entering the merry-go-round of trust

Trust, especially among humans comes in grains of degrees of proof. Kathy Black proved herself, as a tough nut to crack. The invisible wall she chanted into manifestation denied them entrance, so they conjured another avenue. A psychic fair always employs at least one psychic artist.  He would influence the artist’s hand and draw himself, which rated in the highest degree of proof. She would believe and take down that wall.

It backfired.  Trust seized to exist in the woman, though many sought her out to share their sordid life details. As she continued helping others, the Hippie Ghost Band knew her desperate cry, as life slowly poured out of her.

 

“It’s time for an intervention, of the Woodstock Nation variety”, the lead guitarist in the group called out to the other members. “Who will join me?”

As figured, the other three of the group accepted the offer, but something else took them by surprise. It knocked the wind out of their sail. “How can this be”, all asked?

Every color known to humanity pushed through a flying rainbow, which rider became a legend eons ago. Behind the flying rainbow, came elementals of every spirit realm, acting as delegates.

“We will rock you”, they all sang as they approached the Hippie Ghost Band.

Could it be? Are they the instruments of the fates? Is it the year for the end of destruction? These delegates would write the story of an ending followed by the void of nothingness or the ending followed by a beginning. She is the last hope.