If thought is energy and we know that energy is always conserved—meaning it cannot be created or destroyed—then why do we spend so much time and energy in our thoughts?
My thoughts these days run a gamut of when will I absolutely be beyond last year living with an infection intent on killing me and its afterthoughts now in other parts of my body. I’d never thought about an end-game to illness because I’d never faced IT before. So one of my thoughts is: I’m alive isn’t that enough? My answer: hell no! I want the ME I used to be and that just isn’t going to happen—ever!
That thought brings on the poor me melody and I want so much to yell aloud: “Get out! Just get the hell out of my body and LEAVE me alone. Each of us knows that this type of self-pity takes a lot of energy so thank goodness energy cannot be destroyed or I’d be in real trouble.
I had one life and I now have another that draws me to my purpose of this life. It changes, you know, our direction in life, for any number of reasons. The thoughts of my body demand that I work hard to heal and to rest when tired. Yet that which is energy gives me bursts of power to talk with others about the value of our stories and my novel “The Respite” and my book that asks the question “Postcards from God/How Do Angels Fly” and an essay on energy and a new effort entitled: “The Energy that is Compassion.”
Oh, I just had another thought! Energy is a word that means power, force, vigor and my favorite: get-up-and-go! And I shall!
YOU might ask—I certainly would—why I leave an open-ended title in most of my blogs. It’s because I don’t know what is to come until I begin to write.
You see, writing is an art no less and no more than wonder or thought. All humankind FEELS their healing thoughts and they wonder at the mystery of thinking them—that is until others proclaim we should think differently—Like Them.
Did our thoughts then change? Throughout history that answer depended on the consequence placed on speaking for or against—Like Them.
My hope is that my sisters and brothers throughout our Earth held in time without end each healing thought and their wonder at the mystery of thinking it! For in this case: AND, THEN WE ARE.
September 29, 2010 Two friends from Alabama stopped by yesterday; Jo (aka Moose) and her husband Bill. Every several years I get a call telling me they are nearby. When I see them, there is no awkwardness between us—we begin where we left off. This time felt a bit different, not between us, but because of the topics of discussion. First off, of course, we covered our world, how fast it is changing, and how sad we are to have so little time left to influence its history. Scared, yes, but also (because we are ‘old’) resolute in the knowledge we did our best when we did have influence.
Second, and for the first time, the stories inside our childhood took wing in unstoppable expression. The memories, not those that made us laugh, but those that caused us to become who we are. From deep within, memories of the just and unjust experienced through the influence of grandparents and parents and sometimes siblings.
Example: Building a vehicle out of scrap wood and metal, sneaking out the bedroom window to ‘try it out,’ and getting caught—its discipline not appropriate for the transgression, in a young boy’s eyes.
Example: A young English girl, released from a London bomb shelter, runs crazily to her home. Is it standing? Are her parents alive?
Example: Influence of childhood religious experiences; the good and the evil and how we buried the experience or forgave it. All agreed it did introduce us to the importance of our soul-life.