Welcome to my poetry page. What's on this page?
* My Soul
* Telasnevismoot Owl
How does one become a poet, editor and author?
"Treat the earth well: it was not given to you by your parents,
it was loaned to you by your children.
We do no inherit the Earth from our Ancestors,
we borrow it from our children."
How does one become a poet, editor and author?
It all started with Poetry in College in 1998. As of October 2009, I started editing a spiritual book for a friend, then writing a chapter for the book. This is actually my first piece to be published. An overview of the new book "Transformation" is located at the bottom of this web page.
Welcome to my world of spiritual healing after the loss of my child and spouse. I started writing poetry to help myself overcome the grief of losing my 15 yr old son in 1997. I was driven to find answers to the many questions that flooded my head.
How It All Began,
My first exposure to poetry was in seventh grade when an English teacher Mr. French asked us to memorize a poem and recite it in class.
The poem I chose to write was Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of the easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Two months after my son was killed instantly by a 25 year old local drunk driver I signed up for an 18 month college course in Graphic Design. One of our English Comp assignments was to write a poem. Since I had never written poetry, I asked the professor how to write a poem. She said “From Your Heart Debbie”. Hum, that was a concept. I went to my dorm room and sat there for a while trying to think of something to be worthy of poetry.
Then the thought came to me to write about my son who had just passed four months earlier I was having trouble starting the poem at my desk, so I went to my bed and used it as a writing table. Kneeling at the left side of the bed in a praying position I had my writing pad on the top of the bed and began to write the title.
The words started flowing out of my pen like someone else was writing it for me. Thoughts came pouring into my mind and the words just flowed. I couldn’t write fast enough so I left my dorm room and went to the lab. I was able to type it up faster than I could write. This first poem is “Together Again”.
My second poem “My Soul” was written shortly after the first. All the thoughts that were coming to me I just had to get down on paper.
The third poem “Remember Me” I had engraved on Tommy’s headstone. There were almost too many words for the stone but they squeezed them all in.
The poem "Judgment Day" was inspired by a dream my spouse was given by my son in spirit just prior to his passing eighteen months after my son was killed. This poem I started in court the day they sentenced the 25 yr old local boy who ran over my son drunk driving. Judgment Day is approximately 3,000 words in length written on the California 91 freeway in bumper to bumper traffic on the way to College every day for two weeks. I turned the scribbles into a poem that tells a story from a court date to the day of the crash.
The poem “William” and “Whispers in the Wind” I wrote for my husband’s church funeral service.
Enjoy and please feel free to share any of these poems with friends or family who may need support during a time in their lives that they may need reassurance of spirit.
For some do not know and they curse the reason why,
their beloved is taken so early in life.
It only happens to others you see,
it will never happen to us; believe me.
We always depend upon others for life,
to take advantage of love is an oversight.
They’re young their strong, they have their whole life,
who’s to say God will take their short life.
The signs were all there, in dreams, and in thought,
mother knew, instinct told her too.
It’s only a dream, how silly should one be,
it’s OK, it’s not what I see, believe me.
But over and over the dream did despair,
the thought of loosing a life long affair.
They fought sister and brother, t’s common in young folk,
with age and wisdom they both grew we know.
The young rabbit hunter walked the hills over and under,
When that got old, he discovered another wonder.
It had two wheels sometimes three, and a brother,
Who shared in the love of the same, two wheels under.
They rode day and night, their helmets sometimes light,
Caution always spoke, from their parents with insight.
Road rash here and a few cuts there,
no fear he wore and sometimes he swore.
“One day I’ll ride cross-country far and wide”,
little did he know he’d be doing it solo.
One fateful night, while in search of a good sight,
he and his friends were the victims of plight.
Suspects all three were intoxicated you see,
from the law they did flee, with speed and no care.
Head on they did crash,
it and run was the act,
with betrayal as the fact.
The victims they lay as pure as the day,
lifeless one lay, while the other ones prayed.
For the ones that remain, their pain will retain,
for the loss of their friend, they remain still vain.
Oh, how we miss the one with lifelessness,
someday we hope to reunite our loneliness.
Until that day, that we see your light of day,
our dreams will be open to you everyday.
©Copyright 1998 by Deborah Mathews
Through the dew of the evening, my soul slips through
To see how you're doing and to say, I LOVE YOU!
I miss the whole family I wish it weren't true
But mistakes I did make, I know now how true.
If only I'd listened to your sound advice,
I'd be enjoying the cool summer nights.
I couldn't go home, no yet, too much pain,
I needed to know you'd be fine, please refrain.
It wasn't that instant that I went through the light,
I hung around, you know, just to keep you in sight.
I moved a few things and turned off the lights,
Just to remind you, I'm still part of your light.
I stay by your side, through the day and the night.
In twilight, feel the cool breeze, against your face oh so tight.
Just listen real quietly to the soft-spoken voice,
The voice of the leaves, in the mist of the night.
A twinge in your shoulder that you thought,
"What was that"?
And the phone that ring's, when you answer,
"Who was that"?
The picture that fell on your back as you cried,
And wept for my soul to come back to your side.
I too cried to see you in pain;
it had only been six hours since three.
When you awake from nine-three,
these are the hours to see and think of me.
I wanted to stay as long as need be,
but your strength told me to go home you’d see me.
I listened to your voice that night,
telling me to go to the light.
As I went that night, through the light,
I was promised that I’d never forget your sight.
That I could visit from time to time,
to be by your side when you needed some light.
Many were there, even those I’d not met,
to help me over and ease my fright.
Now that I’m here I understand why,
my role on your plane was so testing to my soul.
My priorities are straight; I have many things to do,
we all work very hard to help all of you.
Some take our advice and listen to their heart,
Intuition, as you call it, just trying to do what’s right.
©Copyright June, 1998 by Deborah Mathews
This poem is on my Tommy's headstone
Don’t cry for me, because I’ve passed,
I’ve just gone home my sorrows passed.
But as you sit so bleak fully, I don’t hear you laughing at me. It’s just not so, you should know, you denied it all, and gloated to all. We made a speech, each one of us, for the D.A. to recite instead of us. We didn’t feel we needed to say, the things we had been dreading up until that day. When we arrived, we were quite surprised, to see you dressed in orange and hanging in chains. Apparently, you were arrested one night, for driving the same way you killed our son that night. How many lives do you have to take, before your soul realizes you made a mistake?
You close your eyes and tilt back your head, you think you’re cool and joke with a skinhead. The court is full of eager eyes, desolate souls in orange sit bleak. Homicide reins and murder stains, the souls of those in chains. The D.A.’s and lawyers all wait in haste, for their turn to defend or state their case. The Judge, he jokes and laughs in wait, for the defendant’s lawyer is late and we can’t wait. I gaze at you in chains and orange, you glare so cocky with no care. You sit in wonder of why you are there, because you thought you’d only kit a rock. We wait for the judge to start, proceedings on the case at heart. “All the families are here today, this case has drug on too long, we’re not going to wait”, “He’s where? In Bakersfield"? The Judge said today. “For some reason his priorities just aren’t straight”. “I do not tolerate contempt of court. “I’ll deal with him, later in my court”. “Court is postponed until this Monday. (July 05, 1998) If there’s anyone who can’t comply, please step forward and tell me why”. I raised my arm quite frantically, to explain to him my uncertainties.
“Hello, your honor, this is my name, I’m the mother of the deceased you see. I’m a student in College full-time all week, it’s hard for me to leave, but I will if need be”. “Thank you Deborah, I understand, would you now like to say a few words to the defendant if you can?” “Oh, my goodness”, I thought to myself, this was unscheduled I’m not ready at heart. We didn’t plan to speak in court; they requested we write it down, a week in advance before court. He’s asking me to speak publicly? “Oh gosh, help me, a quick second to think”.
As I slowly turned and focused at you, I immediately decided it was my turn. The words, they flowed so easily, with uncontrollable thoughts to be. I’m doing this for Tommy, not for me, for you took away his right to speak. What I said that day was very brief; now let me tell you what Tommy felt at three . . . .
What have you done young soul, to me and my family? You killed me that night with no remorse. You joked and laughed behind my mom and dad’s face. What were you thinking that night at three, the three of you, joy-riding with glee? You at the wheel, so cocky and blind, no lights as you drove down Ramon, so stoned out of your mind. My neck that broke; both legs above knees; the cuts and lacerations that did not bleed. The hemorrhages from the forceful shaking in my head, made it impossible for me to come back a whole man. The collarbone that holds the frame so strong, broke, shattering the root of my heart. When you finally realized that you “thought you hit a rock”, you swerved to the left with me still attached. Shearing the pole completely in half, paint in my stomach, your Monte Carlo embedded intact.
It puzzled my mother at first at the scene, to see my Dad’s vest I’d wore entangled on top of the telephone pole; in the middle of the street.
I’d been wearing it that night, three sodas zipped inside. The force of sudden stop that tossed me so high, ripped of my vest just before I lay.
The instant you hit me, you sideswiped the others, your bumper grabbing hold of Christina’s leg, ripping it under. As they flew through the air with a cry, you laughed at the rock, that you thought you hit twice.
Christina lay by the road at the fence line, her leg and torso, ripped by your fender. She lay in wait for help to arrive, not knowing if she’d make it, she started to visualize. Her visions grew stronger and stronger, with each pint of blood lost under. I quickly whispered…It’s not your time, don’t go under.
Ryan also remembered being tossed, what they don’t remember, is being hit by such thunder. He does remember landing very hard; it’s a shock to the body, in place of fear. He yelled for Christina, he could hear her cry, he yelled for me, no response, just a sigh. Ryan focused his eyes on the car, and yelled out my name. “Tommy! Where are you at?”
He saw you and your brother jump out of the car, and run to the rock that lay lifeless inside.
You turned me over, to see who it was. “He’s dead; let’s get the hell out of here!"
You and your brother fled from the scene, you ran to your friends thinking no one would see. The third of you three just happened to stay, he checked on me, and knew it wasn’t my day. He stayed to give aid to Christina and for that we are grateful.
He yelled at Ryan to run and get help, not knowing Ryan had a broken leg, arm, and a hole in his lung.
As you cowardly hid from the law, my parents were awakened at different times by all.
Dad was awakened at the sound of the crash. He’ll never forget the bike chain winding down after the crash. He knew there had been a crash, from the noise and the lights that went out in a flash. With the lights that went out and the sound of screams, it was I that awoke him, just before I screamed.
The first thing he did was check my bed, but I’d carefully placed blankets to rest. He went to check outside, there it was, helmet and bike. Groggy as one awakens, he didn’t realize it was the old bike that wasn’t with me. My quad broke, as I’d hit a rock that broke the frame, so I borrowed sisters quad, that the others rode that night.
Ryan’s bike I rode and it had no light, so I wore a fire department light intact on my baseball hat. There were question by authority that we also had no lights, but proof was shown from my light found half crushed on site. Two others saw the light switch on, mom and an employee of the fire department that night. The quad was also with a light, one was burnt and the other one bright. If we had seen you in the night, you surely would have had a light. If you had been watching the road with bright eyes, your head would not have been scrunched below the wheel that night.
Dad took off in his truck with a flashlight, to try and find just what took the lights out that night. He drove the block twice, looking for a reason why the street lights were out that night. I tried to tell him, but he did not hear. It didn’t occur to me that I was no longer here. The second time around the block he saw a light, so he followed the light that shown red in the night.
The officer said, “There’s been a crash, we need first aid Chief, go see if there’s help at the station.” The officer didn’t realize at that point who lay lifeless on the cold pavement. He sent dad on his way to get help. Not realizing time was his cushion. He was an officer of strength who had walked the mile, to serve his fellow man. He witnessed the ambush of his fellow comrades, as he lay in wait for gunfire to cease. Now at the scene of a fatal crash in the middle of a cool summer breeze. Unbenounced to him whose lives were involved, he’d soon realize his part in it all. Not realizing that the one who lie, he’d seen as a child at seven and eight, when he and mom worked together at the station.
In the meantime, mom was awakened by horns honking from the east and the west. One was the woman who assaulted me one day, inaccurate accusations she backed with a taser and honking at uncles to awaken him and the others.
Ryan’s mom was in our drive, yelling and honking, “Debbie, come quickly, Tommy and Ryan have been in a terrible accident”. This was it, mom’s dreadful thoughts, of being awaken so suddenly in the middle of the night. As she walked through the room, I told mom to take her time it was too late, I was gone by 3:35.
The others left as she drove down slowly, headlights flashing, coming her way. They were telling her to stop they had something to say. “Are you Debbie? Don’t go down, you just can’t”! “I must” mom said, “My son’s down there”. She turned the corner at the flashing lights and there was the officer that sent dad the other way for aid. Reality hit as she saw one lay, first aid she was given to save her leg. Mom asked where was I, she was given a reply that dimmed her eye. The Sergeant said, “You must go around, electrical is blocking the road, it’s too dangerous” Mom patiently drove to the other side, just to have C.H.P. tell her to not cross the line. It seemed an eternity for mom to wait, not knowing who was where. Flashing lights meant no haste and somehow she knew I was in need of no care. Her eyes cut through the dark with uncontrollable anticipation. “Let me through” she yelled, “Let me find him”! “We can’t let you through just yet; we’re waiting, hold on be patient just yet! Mom was furious at their ignorance, how dare they judge her intuition.
Dad finally returned, he walked to the site; silhouette shinning through the thick of the night. Both of them met in unison at my side, as dad cringed when he saw my body so tight. “Oh God”, she said as she yelled at me…Mom knelt by my side and held me tight. “I told you this would happen”. Relatives tried to pull her off, she said…”Don’t touch me, just give me thought”.
As she stared at me in solitude, she wondered why I looked so whole. No blood was shed, no visible signs, no signs of struggle just peace of mind.
Mom, Dad, Michelle. . .”I just want you to know, that when we go, it’s always our time in our chart of life. Two weeks prior the message came to thought, and I shared it with Dad on an evening we talked.
Remember the day that I couldn’t maintain, when we were driving together to town? I had an awful feeling of fright just being in a car with too many around.
My soul had already planned on exiting that night. I just didn’t know that I’d turn that corner on that particular evening’s glow. It is only deep in our heart and our mind that we know it’s so.
I never would have turned left at Sullivan if destiny hadn’t been whispering to me through the wind that night. I had a choice and the choice was mine, you remember… I told you so. "If I should die, before my time, I won’t come back, if I’m not a whole man." And the dream you had when I was a child, of the vehicle that ran me down in the middle of the night. It wasn’t you Mom that drove the car like the fears in your dream that made you cringe with fright.
We chose another, who needed to learn, lessons of strength to better him as a man. His life was shattering, he needed to slow down. This is why he was chosen to run me down. And in turn, I was chosen to help him, in his life, and he also was chosen to touch many lives. For this wasn’t the first involvement with a loss. It also happened; very similar back in 1989.
Some will take heed, and others won’t. He also chose to touch many lives. Unfortunately he has not learned and his life will continue to bring grief to many more. They do not realize it is so, until it’s time for their soul to go. And if they haven’t learned here in time, they’ll come back to do it all over again.
Forgiveness is a very hard lesson to learn. But I want you to know, that I have forgiven his soul.
We are all here for many different lessons, whatever they may be, we must take heed for if you don’t, you’ll do nothing but hurt your soul. And until you learn each lesson in your lives, you’ll repeat each one until it is done. His repetitive actions are not coincidental; the problem here is he’s not learned the first one. Over and over time will tell if he truly learned from any of his actions.
That night of pain, you touched my lips, my head and my hair, to make sure if I was dead. I felt so bad for you and dad, I wish I could take back your night of fright. But the choice was mine, I could have stayed, but like I told you, I never liked my vegetables. A lifetime of confinement without movement to play was not my idea of life filled with grace. Unable to laugh…unable to run…unable to ride in the hills that I loved.
My sister arrived later at the scene. Awakened she was, from a deep-deep sleep. Mom saw her coming and went to her side. My sister cried “Is that Tommy at the side”? I’ll never forget her shrieks in the night you could cut the thick air with her terrifying fright as she screamed at the top of her lungs in all sight. Many months it would be before she would sleep, not wanting to be awakened with more news so bitter.
The site of impact was carefully picked. To remind those of accusing words the blame they placed on innocent ears.
Your guilty conscious will retain, the pain you caused the families in pain. Four months had passed since you stole the cross and my mom still wished you a fine Christmas.
A very special soul was he, he came from heaven to witness it all,
He chose a life with many courses, some of danger and others of passion.
A struggling farm boy who knew the wild, he learned to live off the land so grand.
Cows to milk and fields to seed, he walked a mile to watch T.V.
Memories of childhood he adored, the tractor rides, and hillsides to climb.
He seemed to always bump his head; he had more scars than a Viet Nam Vet.
He shared his heart with others, who cried,
And carried their burden on his heart so divine.
Many friends he did have, they would give a hand at his command.
With ancestors to watch him, and a special hand to guide him,
His journey would lead him many miles from home.
He kept it a secret; he was not to tell, stripped of his pride, to forget in stride.
He struggled daily to forget the pain, never telling a soul of his pain.
Not the physical pain, or the pain of sorrow, but pain of memories not soon forgotten.
A man of piece, he developed inside,
It is not so easy becoming a self made man, always giving a helping hand,
To those who loved him, they shared in common ground.
Never complaining when he was hurt, never a frown only smiles from within.
For years upon years his hats would collect, never really finding just a right place to rest.
Two weeks ago he hung each one, now they hang, never to be worn by the one.
Before we met, we know that we were one,
We were destine to live the lives, that most everyone would not want.
Growing up we had our paths two perfect our very souls.
You had your road and I had mine, very different, but oh, so close.
You would lead the hard life, with sweat and tears and pain,
Never knowing where your next meal came from, it was very hard the strain.
You were one of the special six, your mother and dad brought into this world,
But you were a very special soul, one who would leave to soon.
Words of wisdom he shared with me, he enriched my life to every degree.
Twenty-two years of my life before him, and twenty-two years we shared together.
He understood where his son had gone,
But in his grief of understanding, he ignored his needs.
Take the month, the day and the year of his birth,
add them together; it’s the day of his rest.
I thank God every day you belong to me your sunshine radiates your love above me.
Your unselfishness that you give to others makes you unique to everyone who wonders.
Your life has been full of happiness and sorrow,
But that is what makes your soul gleam with wonder.
Your body has been through a lot of heartache,
But remember dear it’s your soul that never hinders.
So when you are feeling down and under, please remember that our souls are one together.
A very special thank you to all. To all of Tom’s friends and relation who call.
He will be missed by all who know him. But remember dear friends; he is one within you.
©Copyright 1998 by Deborah Mathews
Tom was never recognized while alive by the United States Government for his duties in the war. It took me countless letters to government agencies to get his headstone that was granted two years after his death. Records were found in the department who issues headstones but those records are no longer in that office as of Feb 1, 2010 as they have mysteriously vanished, per the supervisor.
Tom was threatened never to speak of his service in Viet Nam.
He lived with this secret from 1971 through our marriage. We were married 23 years and just prior to his illness he told me he had something to tell me. As he's crying he says he was in Viet Nam. Dead serious!
I have heard from Tom in spirit that his records are still available but buried.
Who has a heart to uncover the records of a dead man who served his country, suffered emotional trauma from that service, kept their secret as he was told all his lifetime and took it to his grave but speaks of it from spirit openly.
Both my husband and son have spoken to me in voice that I have heard since their passing and one day his records will be uncovered.
Telasnevis (white) moot (owl)
Native Cahuilla Language
Owl Embroidery Stitch out by Deborah June 3, 2009
Written August 20, 2002 4:00 a.m.
Wings of white that soar through twilight
Grace the lives of those in fright.
Tradition has it as one must fear
The white winged beauty that appears so near.
Messenger of wisdom sought, love together, birth and death.
Native voice would often speak, of owl’s intention that followed deep.
Future holds what’s in the mind, of any soul who's thoughts run wild.
Superstition and fascination, all within the mind of creation.
Messenger of love or death, is it fate or is it myth.
Thoughts run deep in the minds of soul, give me strength to hold my own.
White owl seen in my sight, eight-twenty-three, nineteen hundred and ninety seven,
Presents it's self on Fields Road one night, swooping down from high above,
Leading me north on my way home.
No sense of fear is felt, peaceful reassurance near,
What’s this messenger here to say, the week before my child’s life is gone.
Several months will have passed, six months shy of twenty-four,
Again, appears another owl swooping down within same longitude.
White owl seen in my sight,
Four-fifteen, nineteen hundred and ninety nine,
Back again to lead me home, wise owl here to reassure.
And again owl was right; another left my side of life,
Coincidence or was it fate, owl checks in to state my fate.
Time’s gone by and I survive, but now owl’s back to state a fact.
In the night I dream of owl, not in front like all before,
He swoops behind me as I drive, presenting himself to my side.
On my right he glides at height, as I look he peeks to look inside.
Past encounters were their souls and now he’s back to guide me through.
As I believe what I have seen.
©Copyright 1998 by Deborah Mathews
This picture is of my husband pouring cement and placing brick on Tommy's grave one year after my son's death August 1998 (native tradition) and eight months before his death April 1999.
It is my husband's Native Tradition to wait one year before
capping the grave to give the soul plenty of time to leave.
Personally, I believe the soul leaves the physical prior to "death".
There's plenty of accountability that spirit prepares the soul for
departure at least a week prior to death. I read this several places
and will link to it when I research it again. I have had this validated
with Tommy's crash. No Blood! And Tom was in spirit holding his
father's arm when his BP went to 30 and the doctors removed his
BP cuff. Tom left his body prior to his father arriving at the hospital.
His father said he felt his son's spirit hand on his arm. The night my
son was killed he spoke to me in spirit just minutes after the crash as
I was going down to the scene. He said. . .
Channeled Message by Abraham in spirit through Esther Hicks
Stages of Grief
These are in no way any how everyone will experience grief. I went through the first three in the first hour after my son's passing. And with my husband, I went through depression the day before he died. Everyone's different and some have additional stages that may include blaming themselves for their child or family member's death.
First Stage of Grief: Denial
“Everything’s fine.” "This isn’t happening to me." Not accepting or even acknowledging the loss. Denial is usually a temporary stage for the individual. This feeling is generally replaced with a heightened awareness of a situation or of other people.
Second Stage of Grief: Anger
"Why me?” “Who can I blame?” “This is not fair!” The second stage begins after realizing that denial cannot continue—reality hits you and you come to the realization that the situation cannot be denied. Feelings of anger at the deceased and putting blame on them for leaving.
Third Stage of Grief: Bargaining
“I’ll do anything for a few more years with them.” This can take place before a loss or during the realization that the situation is indeed a reality. In hopes that the individual can somehow postpone or delay the death, negotiations for extending the life manifest through bargaining and praying for the loved one to come back to life.
Fourth Stage of Grief: Depression
“I miss my child/loved one.” “What’s there to live for.” “I can’t go on.” Overwhelming feelings of hopelessness, frustration and bitterness, self pity, and mourning the loss of a person as well as the hopes and dreams for the future. Lack of control, numb feeling of existence, and even suicidal thoughts. This process is a necessary step in the grieving process and the person can become quiet, refuse to talk to others, and do a lot of crying and grieving for the lost loved one. Let it happen.
Fifth Stage of Grief: Acceptance
“It will be okay.” “I can’t fight this any longer, it’s a reality and I might as well prepare myself for the future.” This is the final stage of grief and it comes with peace and the understanding of the death. Acceptance is different; you have to accept the loss rather than resign to it, or bear it, or just deal with it. Accepting that the person is gone and it was not your fault—they did not leave you on purpose.
You can read all about my story of loss, grief steps and acceptance of the loss of son and husband within 18 months in the new book I co-authored in and co-edited, titled TRANSFORMATION.
A friend of mine who is also my Spiritual Medium asked me if I would like to help edit a spiritual book for him. He is the publisher of the book and has fifteen total authors who contributed a chapter each. I was already putting together some handouts for him and agreed to help edit the project. I started editing the book and then was asked to write a chapter for the book. All author Bio's are on my "Spiritual Author" page.
I will be purchasing some of the new books titled "Transformation" by the middle of February after its printing for sale on the website. The book is available for $15.95 each plus shipping as a printed book and PDF version.
There three different parts to the book and I also wrote the forward for two of the chapters.
I have to say this was a great experience and my first attempt at editing a book and writing a chapter. The topic was easy to write I titled it "Grief: From Spirit With Love"
Here is a list of the chapter titles/authors
Part 1: Love and Consciousness
The Power That Circulates Within Us – Al Diaz
Love in the Next Dimension – Connie Dunn
Grief: From Spirit with Love – Deborah Mathews
Love and Enlightenment – Raul Rosiles
Love: Our Forgotten Identity – Dean Shrock
Part 2: Healing and Communicating
The Animal Healing Matrix – Ellie DeSilva
Building Conscious Communities – Samuel Kiwasz
A World of Possibility – Adrianna Larkin
There’s a Flower Behind Everything – Robin Masiewicz
Transformation – Koji Nakamura
Healing Vortex of Violence – Kismet Salem
Part 3: Water and Nature
Water: The Source of Philosophy - William Waterway Marks
The Magic of Water - West Marrin
Combining Urban Runoff Water and Common Sense - Ann Audrey
Transform Your Body and Eyes - Meir Schneider
Author Biographies (you can view them on the "Spiritual Author" page
Love and Consciousness
Introduction by Deborah Mathews
That loving feeling—a universal gift we are born with—is achievable through consciousness of the mind, body and soul. The first essay, The Power That Circulates Within Us: A Life Force of Unconditional Love shows us how our thoughts, words, feelings, and emotions effect our life and how to attain our divine birthright of life force. The second essay, Love in the Next Dimension of Awareness reveals that we can experience our higher self through the vehicle of our human senses. Additionally, we can attain our desired life experiences by understanding sensuality on a metaphysical level. The third essay, Grief: From Spirit with Love introduces us to the grief associated with the loss of a loved one as an opportunity to choose a loving life experience. The fourth essay, Love and Enlightenment expresses love as the unifying quality of life through our living in the “now” with gratitude. The final essay, Love: Our Forgotten Identity explores how our thoughts and feelings affect our overall well being and how to embrace wellness by connecting to the essence of love.
Healing and Communicating
Introduction by Deborah Mathews
The first essay, The Animal Healing Matrix addresses our relationship with animals and our becoming more aware of our connection to Nature and the subtle gifts that animals share with us. The second essay, Building Conscious Communities illustrates the conscious awareness that one can have instilled in one’s life from the thoughts and beliefs of another. The third essay, A World of Possibility opens our mind to the possibilities that are attainable if we abandon fear and negativity in our lives. Imagine the possibilities of wondrous love, self-sufficiency, and innate talent, all of which are achievable through conscious awareness. The fourth essay, There’s a Flower behind Everything shares with us how we connect to nature and to ourselves if we just open our hearts to the vast variety of life forms, especially a flower. The fifth essay, Drumming explores the art of drumming as a spiritual practice that has spread around the world. The final essay, The Healing Vortex of Violence explores different aspects and definitions of trauma and how to recognize its signs today’s society.
Water is perhaps the most ubiquitous substance in nature, and many of its roles remain as mysterious as they are fundamental. Transforming our perceptions of water and acknowledging how water transforms our world seems to be at the forefront of discussions about global and personal health. The first two essays of this section explore a history of human beliefs about water and its relationship to our philosophy, science, and spirituality. Water: The Source of Philosophy recounts the contributions of Greek philosopher Thales to human thought and the understanding of water, whereas The Magic of Water addresses scientific discoveries and unanswered questions surrounding this most common substance. The second two essays explore practical ways in which we can work with the water in our bodies and our urban environments to achieve vitality and sustainability. Combining Urban Runoff Water and Common Sense provides us with alternative ways of viewing water in our cities, while Transform Your Body and Eyes teaches us how to better perceive our world through the water in our eyes.