91 - Perfect Feel Good Activity for Group Work at School, Church, Job or for the Family

      Quite a few years ago, I watched a T.V. show where Vietnam veterans were interviewed about what helped them to survive during the war. Two vets who were interviewed shared some difficult times. One saw his friend die right in front of him, and the other said at times, he would become so depressed that he wished he was dead because he was so tired of seeing so much blood and atrocities that occurred there. Both men, at times, would fall into depression, sure he'd never make it home. But then one of the vets pulled this piece of paper out of his wallet and read it. His voice caught, and then he shared, "This list is what helped me stay alive during my lowest times." The second vet followed suit and read his list. Both men had had the same teacher but in different years.

     Here's the assignment his class was given, which every human being as young as first grade should do:  (The assignment might have to be broken down into steps and suggestions written on the board for the younger children.) Supplies needed: paper and a pencil or pen.

1. If the class has 35 students, the teacher assigns each person a number from one to seven. Then all the 'ones' meet in one area, the twos, etc.:

2. The teacher had each student write his/her name at the top of the paper and then have each student pass their paper to the right. That individual writes down two to three positive things about that student, and then the paper is handed to the right again to another student in that circle. (They do not write their name down of who made the comments.)  NO REPEAT COMMENTS ARE ALLOWED, and NO NEGATIVE COMMENTS. After everyone writes their comments, new groups are formed, trying not to repeat any groups.

 3. The teacher decides how many different groups to create, depending on the time. I usually wrote the numbers on the board, 1's and 3's meet in one group, and I would gesture where to move to, 2" and 7's, etc.:   (I did this a few times. ) I reassigned groups, and they moved to new seats.

4. Once the students have moved to a few different groups, they return to their seats and read the comments that their fellow students had written. (It depends on how much time you have allotted for this assignment, but if the kids could move to five different groups, that would allow 15 comments.)

   Some kids asked, 'Wonder if I don't like the person, what am I supposed to write?" I reminded them that everyone has a few good qualities, whether it's because they are athletic, musical, funny, friendly, have nice hair, etc.;  (I taught high school, so I had to remind my students no sexual remarks.) 

     I smiled as I watched my students read what the other students had written. This exercise made them feel good about themselves.  

     The kids really enjoyed this exercise, and the parents at Parent Conferencing shared that their teens read the list to their families. I bet this activity would also be perfect for the whole family. As a family, often times we are so busy that we forget to slow down and share our child's or spouse's strengths.

     

108 - My Guilt and Depression Held My Dead Son's Spirit Earthbound

     
      “Open your eyes slowly,” the shaman uttered softly.  

      This peaceful world cradled me, chanting for me to stay. There were no demands here: no one asking me what’s for dinner, how I was doing,  or me worrying about what lesson I was going to teach the next day.  No glued-on smile, pretending I was okay. Here in this serene world, I could hide from my pain.  But I knew I had to face another day. whether I wanted t or not. After a few seconds, I slid my eye mask off and willed myself to open my eyes. The dim rays of sunlight shot through the high windows which felt like spotlights.  I blinked a few times, trying to get used to the light.

     My petite shaman shared a few things that I can't remember because I was still in a daze, except I remember she told me that she lent me her horse so I should journey with it to help me heal. And then with a serious face, she said, "Tina, you need to release son’s soul."  
     Something grabbed my intestines and yanked them up tightly.  At a Reiki workshop, a month earlier, Rosemary, the teacher, had told me I had to release all of Kyle’s soul, so he could advance, and if I didn’t, I could become extremely ill.  I thought I had released him, but I guess my guilt and depression pulled my son back in, thinking he could help me. 

https://www.google.com/search?q=negative+thoughts&sxsrf

     While the Shaman continued to explain the various things that I needed to do so I could heal, Kyle chattered away in my head, “Mom, you know you have to let me go.”

     With Amanda's voice in the background, I responded to him, "I know, but you have to know I’ll be all right. I can take care of myself, honestly. I'm doing much better. These next few days, we’re going to work on letting each other go."

      "But I don’t want to… I want to make sure you’re not going to grieve anymore," he quietly said, in a sad voice. I could feel his confusion in his voice. Maybe like me, he was afraid once his spirit totally passed to the other side, the heavens, he wouldn't be able to talk to me. 

      I reminded him that I’m grieving less and less each month.  After a few seconds of silence, he said, "I'm happy that your relationship with dad has become stronger."  There was another pause. "I have to go soon."

     My heart skipped a couple of beats as I wasn’t sure what that meant. Maybe the dolphins were calling him…. (another healing I had done with this Shaman trying to get Kyle to let go of this earthly plane and of me) Or was he going to disappear, and I'd never be able to talk to him again? I expelled the air I had captured in my lungs. Cut it out, Tina, I said to myself. Stop thinking about what you want. This will be healthier for both of us. I have to trust that Amanda and Rosemary know what they're talking about, that Kyle and I still can communicate with each other. “We’ll do our ceremony on Sunday. Okay? It’s time for both of us to totally let go.”

     “I love you so much, mom.” For the first time, I could actually feel the emotion in his voice; he was almost in tears. Many times during his drug days, he would say that line, and it sounded empty or it felt as if he was saying it to make me think that he was alright.

     “I know. I love you too.” I whispered. I paid the Shaman and thanked her, still unclear about what she had suggested that I do because Kyle and I had been talking.  I got into my car and started driving home.      

        

 Kyle fought schizophrenia and Bi-polar II, by taking codeine and later, heroin which took his life                                                                      

     “Mom?"

     "Yea."

     "I love dad too. I now know why he was tough on me. He was trying to guide me to make the right decisions, and think of the consequences. He was so scared for me. I can really feel and understand that now. I wish I could have understood it then.” Again his emotions were so strong as if he really did, for the first time, comprehend what his father must have felt raising him. I wondered why he could understand his father's fear now.

     “I wish you could also have, but maybe you weren’t supposed to learn that yet,” I sadly stated. “I’ll tell him what you said, Okay?

    “Thanks. Remember, I’m still here for you, just like all your other relatives who you’re now talking to you. You won’t forget?”

     “I won’t ever forget, ever.”  (I had spoken to my brother, Alex after he passed away for over a year, and then I had stopped because I had thought that I had missed him so much that I was making up our conversations.) 

      Unconsciously, I realized I was holding on to a part of him in fear that I was going to lose communication with him.  It took me about a week until I felt I was strong enough to tell him it was okay for his spirit to go to the other side. I decided the ceremony would occur on June 12th, the day before our daughter's birthday.  

     I stood outside in our garden and looked up at the sky.   Yes, I cried a little bit, and my body shook as I said, "I totally release you, Kyle Boivin, to the heavens where you belong."  I was still petrified that we weren't going to be able to communicate once he passed to the other side, but  I knew I had to let him go because I didn’t want to be responsible for holding him back in his development.   There are so many ways of releasing a soul. 

    I  learned that our son is always with me when I need to talk to him. Yes, it's a little more difficult to reach him and now he sounds far away. But I also learned as the years marched on, we have less and less to talk about because our lives are very different. Yes, he still gives me an occasional lecture, or I feel his energy pop in, but it wasn't like it used to be the first seven years, and that's okay.

Blog 32 and blog 43 explain specific ways of releasing a loved one or a spirit that you are extremely attached to or worried about.

 

   

107 A Powerful Technique to Pull you Out of a Trauma Moment or Depression

      'Inner Child Work,' also known as 'Healing the Child Within' or 'Shadow Work', is a technique where you work with your inner child. I know it sounds a bit out there, but this technique is a powerful tool to help pull you out of a trauma moment, a time where you feel alone, depressed, or about to react angrily to a situation or after you just experienced one. 

      This technique can be done either by yourself or with a therapist to resolve the negative childhood emotions and experiences your body insists on holding onto, as well as harness the joy, innocence, and confidence that you deserve. I find this technique very useful.

What is 'inner child work'?

      All of us slip into childlike behavior every once in a while, especially if one of our buttons is pushed. Maybe you get angry because your wife prepared a special dinner, but it happens to be a similar recipe your father forced you to eat even though you hated it. Or your husband is about to go on a work-related trip, and you flashback to when your father packed his bags and never returned to the house. 

    Inner child work helps you access the child you once were, along with the experiences and emotions that the child was taught to repress. If you make an effort to listen to, communicate with, and nurture your inner child, you can discover the roots of your issues as an adult and heal them.
    If you find yourself depressed or unable to create, ask your little self what she/he needs. When I'm working on my memoir, sometimes I feel frozen, unable to use descriptive words. I realize that my little self doesn't feel safe, so I ask her what age she is and what she needs to feel safe. Sometimes it's a flower, and other times it's a fluffy bear. Then I ask her to go outside and play while I'm writing, and I see her walking outdoors with her bear. When I finish, I bring her back in. It sounds a bit weird, but it works.

What issues can inner child work help you with?

 -   childhood abuse – emotional abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse

-    depression and anxiety

-    anger management issues

-    passive-aggressive behavior

-    low self-esteem

-    abandonment issues and borderline personality disorder (BPD)

-    emotional numbness

-    self-sabotage

-    self-criticism

-    relationship difficulties

-    codependency and powerlessness.

Inner child work might take the form of:

 - dialoguing (talking) with your inner child who might need just a stuffed bear or a BigMac

 -  journaling with your inner child's voice

 - meditating to get in touch with your inner child

 - hugging or talking to a pillow, doll, or stuffed toy that might have been your favorite when you were little. Or go out and buy a doll or stuffed animal that reminds you of one you owned when you were younger. Or pick a four-leaf clover or a unique key chain that makes you feel strong.

 - learning to 'parent' yourself (nurture and care for yourself).

 - ask a relative who has passed or ask an angel to be beside you when processing your anger or hurt so you feel safe. 

You will:

- remember repressed memories that are holding you back from a goal or that has made you react

- stop feeling numb/frozen and be able to feel again

- gain the ability to set boundaries

- feel self-compassion

- enjoy life more and have fun again

- gain self-confidence.

   Working with the inner child is not about unearthing everything your parents did 'wrong' and becoming angry with them. But it is a technique where you honor your feelings of loneliness, being misunderstood, judged, or mistreated. These emotions need to be processed, but with this comes the recognition that you are no longer that child. You have more personal power and a mature perspective. You might find that after a period of allowing yourself to feel anger and sadness towards others, you find new understanding and compassion, able to see that others are not perfect and have their own unmet needs to struggle with.

   I encourage you to work with a professional, but even I couldn't get into a therapist whenever I needed one, so I was thankful that I had a few tools to help me crawl out of my slump. I guarantee that you will feel better if you don't rush through the activity.

Further information and some excellent exercises to help you heal:

https://lonerwolf.com/inner-child-work/ 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfNc8J1fYHQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yoUxv4mgFs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ziqpm0mI2EI

106 - A Funny Memory of An Incident Which Occurred When my Son was in Elementary School

      As usual, I picked Kyle, our son up from elementary school. The minute he climbed into the car and clasped himself into his car seat, he wiggled around as if his underwear was too tight.  "Kyle, what’s wrong?” I asked.

     He furrowed his eyebrows and squirmed even more. I wondered what had happened at school that made him anxious but waited patiently. My first grader fiddled with his seatbelt. “You’re going to get mad at me.” He gave a dramatic pause. “We were coloring and...and... I drew a penis on my dinosaur, so my teacher sent me to the principal’s office.”

      I lassoed that giggle down and cleared my throat. “Kyle, that’s an inappropriate thing to have drawn at school. Let’s not do that again. Okay?” A soft giggle started at the base of my throat and slowly worked its way up. Then I realized I can’t let him know that this is funny or he’s going to do it again.  I pursed my lips to suppress my laugh.

I still can't picture it, can you?

     “Okay,” he replied, still sounding upset.

      “Kyle, I’m not mad. Things like that happen sometimes. But now you know you shouldn’t draw things like that at school.” I watched as his facial muscles relaxed. But internally, I was pissed. Why did his teacher have to overreact? Kids are kids. I’m sure all he needed was his teacher to tell him that it was not okay, but she didn't have to send him to the principal’s office. I wanted to leave a message for her to call me, but I decided to wait until the following day, so I could cool down.

      At the dinner table, we were laughing about something when I decided to share Kyle’s artistic experience, thinking Alan would find it funny since he was a guy, but Alan’s face became stoic, and his voice lowered. “Kyle, you know better than that. I’m very disappointed in you.” 

      I rushed in to save him. “Alan, it was an accident.”

     “It sounds like he was trying to get attention. Don’t do that again.” Alan scooped up a spoonful of ice cream.

      “Okay.”  Kyle's eyes lowered as if he, too, were disappointed in himself.  

      “Gagi.” Nicole sang out,our three-year-old daughter interrupting the silence.  She held out her spoon, offering him a scoop of ice cream. I wonder if she was trying to lighten the mood. 

     “No, thank you, Nikki.” He had declined since he had his own sitting in front of him, untouched.
   

    I changed my mind about calling Mrs. Border, his teacher when the next day Kyle handed me a piece of paper in regards to an Open House the following week.  I decided to wait until then to talk to his teacher in person. 

     Tons of parents were in the room, but few kids. The school had asked for families to get daycare, if possible.  There was hardly a seat left in that room. Mrs. Bordier had jet black hair and her skin always looked as if she was a sun worshipper. She asked us to find our child’s folder and go ahead and sit down and look through it. After a few minutes, she stood in front of the class and shared what the kids were learning and how we could help them. Then she started walking around talking to the parents individually about the work that was in their portfolio. Some parents had to excuse themselves as they had to visit other classrooms.  I waited patiently because I wanted to talk to her about the penis incident when there were fewer people around. (Alan had stayed home to watch our kids.)

     Mrs. Bordier stood by me with this huge smile. "I'm impressed with how well Kyle is doing in class this year. “He’s matured a lot.” (She had had him as a kindergartner a few years earlier.)

      I stood up to discuss the penis problem, but she bubbled into the next sentence. “Last week I had passed out various photocopies of prehistoric animals so the students could color them, and in a few minutes, I heard an explosion of laughter and giggles. There was a circle of kids surrounding Kyle. I hurried over and took the photocopy from him. He had decided to add an appendage to his dinosaur. I didn't know what to say, so I sent him to the Principal’s office."

     “Yes, Kyle had told me.” Since I was a teacher also, I was just about to tell her what she should have done, but she continued.

     “I shouldn’t have sent him out. Instead, I should have told the class maybe that’s why dinosaurs became extinct; not all of them had a peepee. ( Honestly, I can't remember what she called it. Mrs. Bordier was much like me as a teacher. She might have said penis.) "That was a teaching moment that I let pass by because I had overreacted.”      

      I smiled, remembering how easy it was sometimes not to deal with the problem and just get the student out of the room because you’re trying to teach a lesson. “Thank you.  I know how hard it is to think on the cuff. I make plenty of mistakes in the classroom and have to go back and correct them or apologize.”  She was already a fabulous teacher in my family’s eyes. She didn't expect her young students to sit quietly while they were doing their work and often times allowed them to work with others as long as they were working. Mrs. B. accepted everyone on their individual level. And she accepted my child with his easy to frustrate personality  Admitting to her mistake only placed her higher on the rung of perfection.

     The following morning I shared with Kyle what his teacher had said and he beamed. “She already apologized to me in class.”  Well, that impressed me even more.

     That’s one of the things my high school students complained about, that teachers don’t apologize when they make a mistake. But there are so many other qualities that some teachers don't have which blow me away: They don't like kids.  How can someone choose a profession and yet not like them? It was obvious that Mrs.Bordier not only loved kids and teaching, but she was confident in herself, that when she made a mistake, she could  admit to it. She taught these kids a life lesson.

105 - Difficult to let my Son go so he could Cross Over to the Other Side, Heaven

         "Open your eyes slowly," the healer uttered.  This peaceful world cradled me, chanting for me to stay. There were no demands here: no one asking me what was for dinner, how I was doing, or me worrying about what I was going to teach the next day.  No glued-on smile, pretending I was okay. But I knew I had to face another day.  After a few seconds, I willed my eyes open, but the spotlights from a window across the room forced me to close them. Too bright...way too bright.  After a couple of seconds, I willed myself to open them. I blinked a few more times, trying to become accustomed to the light even though the sun was just beginning to set.

       I forgot most of the things the Shaman shared with me, except for lending me her horse and that I should journey with it. And then she said in a very soft, calm voice, "Tina, you need to release Kyle's soul." Something grabbed my intestines and yanked them up tightly.  At a Reiki workshop I took a month earlier, Rosemary, the teacher, had told me I had to release all of Kyle's soul, so he could advance, and if I didn't, I could become extremely ill. I thought I had already let him go. How do you let a child go, someone, you birthed and worried about so much?

      While the Shaman continued to explain the various things that I needed to do to heal, Kyle chattered away in my head, Mom, you know you have to let me go. I don't want you to get sick.

       I know, but you have to know I'll be all right. I can take care of myself, honestly. I'm doing much better. These next few days, we're going to work on letting each other go. I paid Amanda and thanked her.

 

Trusting and letting go was hard to do...

                                                         hands-letting-go | patrickjegan

      But I don't want to… I want to make sure you're not going to grieve anymore, Kyle quietly said. I could hear the confusion in his voice. Maybe like me, he was afraid that he couldn't talk to me once his spirit totally passed to the other side. I started the car and drove down the windy road as I reminded him that I was grieving less and less each month.  After of few seconds of silence, he said,  I'm happy that your relationship with dad has become stronger. There was another pause.  I have to go soon. 

     My heart skipped a couple of beats as I wasn't sure what that meant. Maybe the dolphins were calling Kyle…. (another healing I had done with this Shaman). Or was he going to disappear, and I'd never been able to talk to him again? I expelled the air I had kidnapped.  We'll do our ceremony on Sunday. Okay? It's time for both of us to totally let go.

      Yea, okay," he said.  I love dad too. I now understand why he was tough on me. He was trying to guide me to make the right decisions and consider the consequences. Also, Dad was so worried about me. I can really feel and understand that now. I wish I could have understood it then.  Again his emotions were so strong as if he really did, for the first time, comprehend what his father must have felt raising him. I wondered how he could understand his father's fear now.

      I wish you could also have, but I sadly stated that maybe you weren't supposed to learn that yet.  I'll tell your dad what you said, Okay?

     Thanks. Remember, I'm still here for you, just like all your other relatives who you're now talking to you. 

     Unconsciously, I realized I was holding on to a part of him in fear of losing communication with him.  It took me about a week until I felt strong enough to tell him it was okay for his spirit to go to the other side. I decided the ceremony would occur on June 12th, the day before our daughter's birthday in June.

     I walked into Topanga State Park and said out loud, "I totally release you, Kyle Boivin, to the heavens where you belong." Yes, I cried a little bit, and my voice shook. I was still petrified that we wouldn't communicate once he passed to the other side.  But I knew I had to let him go because I didn't want to be responsible for holding him back in his spiritual development.   

      I love you so much, mom.  For the first time, I could actually feel the emotion in his voice; he was almost in tears. During his drug days, he would often say that line, and it sounded empty and felt as if Kyle was saying it to make me think that he was alright or saying it because he felt guilty he was still using.

       "I know. I love you too,"  I whispered.       

       Mom?

       Yea, I said as I headed home.

       I love dad too. I now know why he was tough on me. He was trying to guide me to make the right decisions and think of the consequences. He was so scared of me. I can really feel and understand that now. I wish I could have understood it then.  Again his emotions were so strong as if he really did, for the first time, comprehend what his father must have felt raising him. I wondered why he could understand his father's fear now.

      I wish you could have understood your dad's fears also, but maybe you weren't supposed to learn that yet,  I sadly stated.  I'll tell him what you said, Okay?

     Thanks. Remember, I'm still here for you, just like all your other relatives who you're now talking to you. You won't forget?

      I won't ever forget, ever.    

     I learned that our son is always with me when I need to talk to him. But I also remembered as the years marched on, we had less and less to talk about because our lives were very different. Yes, he still gives me an occasional lecture, or I feel his energy pop in, or he says one word to warn me about something, but it's not like it used to be the first seven years after losing him, and that's okay.

 

 

"

     

104 Depression, Feeling Lost or Unfocused could be due to a Miscarriage or an Abortion, or even Picking up A Family Member's Moods... Technique to Release Stuck Energy

       I was drawn to take a natural healing class, Reiki I and Beyond workshop taught by Rosemary the Celtic woman, even though I  had my Reiki certificates already. After a couple hours, I lay on the massage table while a healer worked on me. Once the session was complete, I sat up in a daze,  blinking because even the dim lights were too bright. The woman who worked on me furrowed her eyebrows and stammered.  “I saw a dark spot in your stomach. You need to go to the doctor immediately because I think you have cancer.” 

     My legs dangled over the edge as I sat thinking about what she had just said. For some strange reason, I wasn't scared. I had this gut feeling. I replied, “I have a feeling it’s not cancer. But I’ll talk to the teacher during the break to see what it possibly could be.” Then we switched places, and I became her healer.

       Later that morning, I approached Rosemary and told her what the woman had said.  She didn’t answer right away. She looked as if she was listening to someone. maybe she was listening to one of her Archangels for guidance, a lesson she had taught us that morning.  “Tina, have you ever had an abortion or a miscarriage?”

      “No, I responded,” too quickly.  Then a memory flashed into my head. “Wait a minute. I was in England as a chaperone with my students when I had a hefty menstrual cycle. I was scared that I would have to go to the hospital, but then it stopped. At the time, I wondered if I had a miscarriage, but Alan, my husband, was sure it was due to the long airplane ride.”  Rosemary asked if it took me a long time to get pregnant again, and I told her 3 ½ years. I had even undergone exploratory surgery to see if something was wrong. Then we thought about adoption, but finally, I had a beautiful boy and, three years later, a gorgeous daughter.
I never knew how important it was to release & honor a fetus that chose to come 'in.'

     Rosemary said, "It’s common to have fertility problems after a miscarriage or an abortion because our body still remembers the sadness of losing the child."  I was told to do Reiki on myself to release the memory and honor the embryo for coming in for the little time it was there, and if I didn’t do this, it could turn into a benign or cancerous growth. I worked on myself a little bit, but obviously not enough. 

     Years later, I learned an excellent technique during my Constellation Healing session with Hazel Carter. I remember precisely what my goal was for that evening when she asked. "I feel stuck in writing my memoir."
     "In what way do you feel stuck?" she asked in her beautiful Irish accent. 
     "I'm confused about the order of the stories, and I can't decide which ones to include."  
      She pursed her lips and asked if I had ever lost a child. And I nodded yes.  She said, "Your body still has not fully released the sadness of losing a child. Tina, is there another child you lost?"  

     "No, I don't think so." Then a memory of me getting a sonogram popped in, and a technician said, " Looks like you're going to have twins. I remember being so scared. I honestly didn't think Alan could handle two kids of the same age at once. And then the selfish Tina jumped in, 'I'd have to quit teaching theatre.'  Those days I worried about everything. Like the first healer, Hazel shared that it was imperative that I release this memory from my body, or I could become very ill. 

A technique to honor and release the loss of a fetus or embryo (husband should do also)

1.  acknowledged that I had four children, not just two living ones
2.  light a candle for 21 days, with my husband if possible
3.  give a name to the embryo(s) Alan and I agreed upon Michael and Juliette)
4.   thank the embryo for coming in (Do this technique separately if you lost a couple fetuses
5.  apologize for not being ready to have children or frightened of having twins
6.  thank the embryo for selecting you to come in, even though it wasn't for very long
7.  I shared things about our family, the good and the bad

    The first few times I did this, I cried like a baby. I was surprised that it seemed like energy was released from my body.   Even Alan was a little choked-up.  He only did the release with me for a few days, but that was okay because my body needed to let go of the memory.

103 Sure Enough, There was a Hand in The Photo Waving, Hi

                                       My son, Kyle, waving, "Hi" to me after he died.

     

      I happily accepted a Health Careers class where the students learned C.P.R., First Aid, what types of health careers exist and I received our administration's approval to teach Reiki, a natural healing technique. Second-semester kids who were interested in health careers were placed in senior citizen homes twice a week to help out. 

      I encouraged these students to go to ‘Life Expo’  because there would be tons of free natural healing workshops and exhibits there, so a few of the kids met me at the Expo.

     Stephanie, one of my students, and I decided to have a photo taken of our  aura and then have a reading done on what the colors meant. (She had lost a sister years earlier.) I had never done this before, so I was excited. Little did we know that we would receive more than a photo of ourselves. After the grey-headed lady took my picture, she glanced at my pic and said while she was handing it to me, “Looks like you have someone on the other side who wants to say, ‘Hi.’"

    Beaming, I took the picture, knowing full well, who it was before I even looked at it. Sure enough, there was a hand behind my right shoulder, by my head. The fingers were elongated and a little blurry as if the hand was moving quickly. I chuckled, wondering if Kyle was busy somewhere else, and then realized what I was about to do and zapped in almost too late, so his hand was blurry.  Or I wondered maybe since he was a newbie up in heaven, he was still learning how to transfer his energy onto the earth, who knows. (Ha... ha… Kyle just told me it was the later. He told me later that once a spirit accepts that he/she is dead or accepts that their loved ones will be fine without them, they don’t need to spiritually hang around on earth, they tend to stay in heaven.  But when they want to show up, it takes a lot of energy.) 

     “Yeah, it’s my son,”  I confirmed, feeling like something was stuck in my throat. I was overjoyed and immensely moved that Kyle took the time to show me that even though he was in heaven, he still had time to say, ‘Hi!’ Then the woman explained what the colors meant. 

   Once Stephanie saw the photo of Kyle’s hand her face lite up and decided to have her aura picture taken also. I reminded her to call her sister in. After the heavy set photographer snapped the picture, she handed it to me with a smile on her face. (Maybe she thought Stephanie was my daughter.) I looked at the photo first and then smiled a smug satisfying smirk.  There it was, two fingers held up in a peace sign, right beside Stephanie’s right ear, the hand still and the colors vibrant.  Huge alligator tears rolled down Stephanie's cheeks, she wiped them off quickly, not wanting her classmates to see them.

   I gave her a hug and whispered, “I told you that your sister was still there for you.” The grin on her face was priceless. I could tell that was exactly what she needed, a verification that she was indeed talking to her sister.  A few of her classmates gathered around her to see what was in her photo, astonished at what they saw. 

   I still remember a few months earlier when Stephanie walked into my classroom during lunch and asked if I had time to talk.  I gestured to a student desk and I seated myself across from her. “Ms. B., I used to speak to my sister, but she doesn’t talk to me anymore. Is she mad at me?” Big alligator tears seeped from her huge brown eyes and rolled down her round cheeks.

     At first, I thought that she and her sister had a fight, but then I had this feeling in my gut. “She’s on the other side, isn’t she?”

https://www.google.com/search?q=ghosts&sxsrf

     She nodded, wiping away a few of her tears with the back of her hand.  I asked if someone had told her to stop talking to her dead sister, but she couldn’t remember. (This is very common.) I reminded Stephanie to meditate, so she could slow down her vibrations, and then start talking to her sister, welcoming her back into her life again and apologize for not talking to her for so long.  

      A week passed, and I asked her if she was able to get in touch with her sister.  Stephanie’s big brown eyes glistened, and a huge smile followed. “Yes, Ms. B.”  

   I can’t promise anyone that if you have had an aura picture taken that one of your loved ones is going to show up in the photo, but I'm sure if you keep trying, eat right, your channels will be open to receive, just be patient. You might have a pleasant surprise.

102 Teenagers Can Be Compassionate

       What is compassion? It is when an individual selflessly makes an effort to help someone deal with

physical, mental, or emotional suffering. 

     The last few years that I taught high school, I found that the majority of students had stopped

showing compassion for each other. Someone would fall, and you only heard laughter or a smartass

joke, no one ran to help. More students came to school drugged or drunk, yet no one wrote a note to me

or shared that they were worried about their friend.  And yet I do remember a powerful memory of a

whole-class that gave me the space I needed when I was experiencing a trauma moment a month after

our son, Kyle, died of an overdose.

      I stood in front of my theatre class, struggling to remember the guidelines for developing a character. Giving up, I picked up my theatre book; somehow, my unfocused eyes found the chapter. But the familiar blurry words had no meaning. My fingers clasped the edges of the textbook, then I froze.

     Noise. Somewhere in the classroom, murmurs. Then loud waves of voices crashed into one another in erratic rhythms. Where were the noises coming from? Who was talking? Instantaneously, I followed my familiar routine: I faded, disappearing into my head; my body seemed to lift, floating somewhere above me. I felt like I wasn't even in my classroom anymore.

     I fought to focus. My eyes darted from face to fuzzy face, not recognizing one single student. The students seemed to be sitting behind rippled glass blocks. Someone danced some familiar Flamingo steps on my heart.

     The boa constrictor knotted in my stomach, and I fought to control my irregular breathing. I took a couple of deep breaths when I remembered what my trauma counselor taught me for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. She told me to be honest with my students when my episodes start. I had to honor the way I felt, notice where I felt the emotion, what it felt like, and then give myself permission to feel. Words stumbled out of my mouth, “Hey, you guys….” I sucked in a couple of rapid breaths, “It’s…it’s happening again. Please, take the noise down a level.”

     And just like magic, the static disappeared. “Sorry, Ms. B., we forgot,” Celeste replied. A few other students apologized. They knew my stories: The exodus of our daughter and then a year later the death of our 22-year-old mentally ill son, Kyle, from a heroin overdose.

     I sat down and gave myself permission to feel. I took two deep breaths and felt the snake unwind in my stomach. Another deep breath and the vice around my heart loosened, my breathing slowed down, and I looked at my papers on my desk until the words fully came into focus. Breathing a few more times deeply, I finally looked at my students, slowly recognizing each one. They sat like monks, patiently waiting, watching me, not saying one single word. “Thanks, you guys.” I stood up with the textbook in hand, ready to teach. "You guys are awesome."