Categories
Uncategorized

ON ROCKETS, PHOTOGRAPHY, CHESS, AND ASTRONOMY

Being 9 years younger than my brother, he was a very strong influence and inspiration to me growing up. My brother was always into something science related and we knew early on that’s where his career was headed. He got straight A’s in physics and math without even studying. How in the world does one pull that off? I said “huh?” then, and I still say “huh?” today. He was just a natural. He was my polar opposite. English and the arts were my forte. These are the non-money making subjects in case you’re extremely lucky or independently wealthy. My brother made it into Who’s Who in America, and he received a letter from the Israeli government after we left, asking him to come back to the country. This came with promises of working at a Think Tank, large salary, great title – some fancy job where he could use his Math and Physics superpowers to save the world. He did not accept, and I’m very grateful for that, because he might not be alive today with all the wars which have ravaged that part of the world. Rockets – my brother would build rockets and on weekends, my father, mother and I tagged along in silence to the local schoolyard to watch him shoot them off. It was a very weird ritual, and there wasn’t much discussion about it. When we arrived at the schoolyard, my brother bent down on the grassy field, and I suppose lit the rocket so that it would go off in 30 seconds or so. Then a quickly ran away as to avoid any rocket related eyeball injuries. Ninety percent of the time, the launch was a success. We’d here the little hissing sound which got louder and louder, and then WOOSH – the miniature rocket would take off into the sky, and then arc out into the distance, and land somewhere far away. Sometimes it was retrievable, sometimes not (like an errant golf ball). Then we’d quietly walk back home. It all seemed so serious and I always thought that there should be a Part 2 to the event, but there never was. The photography phase was also fun. My brother started buying some of the best cameras around – Nikon, Minolta, Canon…the rotating lenses were at least 6 inches long on each of these. Much different than today’s cell phone cameras, and definitely not designed for selfies. To this day, my brother is not a “selfie” sorta guy. That’s a good thing, I think. He built a darkroom for himself down in our basement. That darkroom not only had photo development, processing materials and chemicals, but also shelves with piles and piles of Modern Photography magazines. It also had some of his old high school physics and math notebooks, where each page was covered with scribbled formulas, equations, theorems, and solutions. Sometimes I visited that room. It was like entering some mad professor’s laboratory. Then there was the chess phase. My brother got seriously into that game and sometimes he and my dad would play a drawn out match when the chess board would sit in the same spot for weeks, until the player’s move was made. Chess strategies were pored over and analyzed on a daily basis, and Karpov, Fischer, and Spassky were (our) household names. There were often chess tournaments on weekends, and the trophies would accumulate. Once or twice, my dad or my brother would try to teach me how to play. They didn’t get much further than explaining the way each piece moved. I was most fascinated with how the knight moved in an L shape. I didn’t understand why they made the horse move in that way. It seemed so unnatural. After that novelty wore off, I quickly lost interest. The astronomy phase was one of my favorites. We lived in New Rochelle, a lovely little suburb 30 minutes north of New York City. My brother decided to order all the parts to build a pretty humungous telescope. We saw everything out of that magical white tube which sat upon its massive tripod – Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Orion, Andromeda, Perseus, Pegasus, and all the rest. But what I mostly remember is having to crawl inside that tube (my brother couldn’t fit) and screw in the huge mirror from the inside. That’s all I did to help construct this space gazing contraption, but it made me feel so important! How else would that mirror have been secured into place?! That was all ME! (I’ll take what I can get). Besides this, there were aquariums with tiny turtles and small creepy crawlies, there were miniature models of airplanes, trains, and battleships, there were tiny volcanoes made from clay which spewed out lava, and speaking of lava – there were lava lamps, plasma ball lamps and let’s not forget the time my brother almost brought down the entire house (in Israel) when he wanted to know what happens when you heat up glue. Is it any wonder I simply adore the smell of glue? Maybe it’s all the memories it brings back. And maybe all that glue sniffing has enabled me to more easily enter the 5th Dimension.

Categories
Uncategorized

ON HORSES AND HEALING

My mom started me on horseback riding when we lived in the suburbs. I’m estimating I was about 15 years old. The stables were not far from our house. I don’t remember much except getting in the saddle (Western) and learning how to trot. That trot stayed in my muscle memory, as it should have because I remember going around that ring over and over as they drilled points in – heels down, chest up, and the posting rhythm…I’m not sure when I stopped riding. But I suspect it probably had something to do with my parent’s miserable marriage disintegrating, a pending divorce, and possible re-location. And then I forgot about horses for many many years. I got re-acquainted with them in Ireland when I took a trip and stayed half the time in Dublin in the East and near Galway in the West. It was October. Fall is my favorite season. The crisp weather makes me come alive. And I love the rain. I found a riding place in Connemara and they gave some guided day rides. I took a back to back morning and afternoon ride. Before the ride started, the woman who ran the stables tested our riding skill level in an outdoor muddy ring. We were to walk, trot, and canter (on an English saddle). I managed the walk and the trot brilliantly. I nearly fell off the horse on the canter. I had not started to canter when I was young, so this was brand new for me. And learning how to canter on an English saddle, which provides less support, and requires more balance is a whole new world. So I trotted on a sturdy grey draft horse all day long. The afternoon ride was just me and the leader, as the morning riders all left. Nobody was crazy enough to ride on this rainy, grey, and bone dampening afternoon – right before high tide. But, that’s just my style. And this would be the beginning (Part 2) of my love affair with this majestic animal. In another 2 years, I booked a horse riding holiday in Ireland again, this time at a gorgeous place in County Clare. This was a group adventure, though I was there on my own. Again I was able to manage a very fast trot, and had 3 attempts at a canter on an English saddle. I was kinda thrown into the fire and it was pretty terrifying. When riding English, it’s just you and the smallish saddle – as you hold on to the horse’s mane once the animal picks up speed. I stayed back and rode with a private instructor because I didn’t want to inhibit the ride of the group if I needed to take it slower – and I did need to take it slower. Here’s how I feel about it. I’m getting on an animal that weighs 1000 plus pounds, is pure muscle, and can travel about 25 to 30 miles per hour. I’m easing into this. I returned home from this trip determined to improve my riding skills. I took about a dozen local lessons, and signed up for a more in depth educational riding trip near Bordeaux, France, where they would customize every day’s ride according to your level. I’m the type of person who is “all or nothing”, so when I get into something, a new hobby, a new passion, a new love, I go ALL in. So, I promptly started Googling books on horses and horseback riding, specifically, the books that related to the spiritual connection between horses and humans. It’s no wonder that horses came back into my life at the same time I was practicing to become a healer. What I discovered was that horses are natural healers – without even trying. Their heart fields are so expansive that they can hear a human heartbeat 4 feet away. In fact, these herd animals intuitively match their heart rhythm to the beat of the other herd members so that they can pick up any surrounding danger and signal the others. They are born empaths and are ultra sensitive. They are also prey animals, so their first thought when encountering a new person, object, or experience, is “Are you going to kill me?” This is why they spook so easily. A plastic bag floating in the wind could set them off into a mad escape gallop. Many of today’s riders subscribe to natural horsemanship. This takes the animal’s sensitive nature into account. Gone are the days of kicking your spurs underneath the horse’s rib cage or beating the animal to get a response, or violently yanking on the reins to stop them. The tiniest gesture on the rider’s part will elicit a response. That and love is all you need. The point is, we have to be in tune with the horse. Or be on the same energetic wavelength. So learning how to ride these gorgeous beasts, ideally, should make me more aware of energies. One of the books I read is about the original legendary Horse Whisperer – Buck Brannaman. His most famous book is called “The Faraway Horses”. Buck and his brother Smoky were born to Carol, a sweet submissive woman of poor health who died all too early, and an abusive alcoholic father, Ace Brannaman. Under the pressure cooker “techniques” of their father, the two boys became celebrity rope trick artists, performing at regional rodeos, and even landing a few national commercials. As Buck explains in his book, it was either performing rope tricks or getting the living hell beaten out of you. So the boys chose rope tricks. Unfortunately, this wasn’t always enough to please their father. After Carol died, the boys were left alone with him. Ace would often get up in the wee hours of the night and take to the bottle. He’d often wake the boys up as well, sit them at the kitchen table, and go off on a sloshed tirade. At any hint of dissent, a fidget, a sideways glance, or even a slight yawn, he would remove his belt and mercilessly whip them. Sometimes he would use a riding crop or a frying pan – whatever his hand could reach first. Eventually, a local sheriff learned about these beatings and the boys were removed from their father’s “care” and sent to a foster home. Here, in a supportive and loving environment, Buck began to truly bond with horses. And this would be the experience he needed in order to intimately understand an equine state of mind. Buck was all too familiar with visceral fear because in a way he was also a prey animal. In a 2012 Nightline interview, Buck said, “The horses at that time in my life, they saved my life. The horses did way more for me than I did for them. So they were my friends and they were sort of my refuge. So it’s interesting that I’ve been given the opportunity to spend the rest of my life making things better for the horses.” Buck currently travels around the world running horse clinics. He has also used horses to help heal PTSD war survivors, abused children, children with learning disabilities, prisoners with violent tendencies, and many others whose wounds were too deep to recover by any other traditional methods. I have not had the pleasure of meeting this icon and hero, but he will always and forever by one of my greatest inspirations and heroes. The wounded healer theory, also knows as the Chiron effect, states that healers who have experienced trauma or pain can use those experiences to provide more effective healing. Chiron was a centaur in Greek mythology. He was accidentally wounded by Hercules’s poisoned arrow. While the wound was incurable, Chiron continued to heal others. The path that leads you to become a healer is not always the easiest, but the rewards are immeasurable.

Categories
Uncategorized

ON FREDDIE MERCURY, ZOROASTRIANISM, AND COMMUNING WITH AUDIENCE

I will try, but words cannot describe my adoration for the late great Freddie Mercury. I believe his sex appeal transcended more than just male, female, homosexual, bisexual,  heterosexual, transsexual, transfeminine, transmasculine, transgender, or any other gender descriptive adjective.  I believe he probably could have communed with an entirely different species on a distant undiscovered planet.  He was timeless, ageless and he spoke the language of pure LOVE.  In the way he carried himself, in his lyrics, in his voice – he emanated pure universal love.  Maybe this had to do with his religion – Zoroastrianism, which was the religion of pre-Islamic Persia (or modern day Iran).  There are somewhere between 100,000 to 200,000 followers worldwide today. Not a lot. It’s as rare a gem of a religion as Freddie Mercury was a musician. 

Zoroaster proclaimed that Ahura Mazda was the supreme creator – the creative and sustaining force of the universe. Humans are given a choice between supporting Ahura Mazda or not, thus making them responsible for their own fates and soul decisions.  Angra Mainyu’s negative forces are born from Aka Manah or evil thought.  Evil thought is considered to be a Zoroastrian’s worst enemy.  But here’s the interesting part, and maybe I’m crazy (well, we all know that’s not a “maybe” at all), but I see this next fact about Zoroastrianism appearing in Freddie’s music.  The life force that originates from Ahura Mazda, is known as asha meaning truth and cosmic order. It stands in opposition to druj  which is falsehood or deceit. It’s almost like tribes of good and bad fighting for control.  So many classic films are based on the theme of Good vs. Evil. Certainly, it’s an operatic concept.  But when Truth and Cosmic order become a standard to strive for (ie: Zoroastrianism) , that is approaching a land called Utopia.  Because Truth is everything that’s right and beautiful about the world and humanity.  Truth does not have to be “ugly” contrary to popular belief.   If we knew “truth” to be beautiful, then we’d live it and reach for it every day, as we should.  That’s what Freddie Mercury’s music emanated – this Universal Truth that all of humanity shares.  Yes – We Are The Champions.  Not because some are better than others, but because we stand as One.  One Creation. One Humanity.  One Love. That Oneness makes us The Champions. Don’t Stop Me Now.  Was he speaking only to my soul when he wrote the lyrics?  When my energy is running on that altitudinous level, I have felt every single one of those descriptions.  I just couldn’t verbalize them. “And the world, I’ll turn it inside out, yeah. I’m floating around in ecstasy…”(totally me).   “I’m a racing car – passing by – like Lady Godiva, I’m gonna go – go – go, there’s no stopping me.” (Exactly).  “I’m a rocket ship on my way to Mars on a collision course, I am a satellite, I’m out of control…” Just about every day! Thank you Freddie for expressing it so exactly spot on!  Or maybe I just speak your language Mr. Mercury.  We Will Rock You – Freddie had a way of transforming the worst parts of life into a magnificent reality and reminder that this IS life, and it is magnificent, simply because it is that.  Life doesn’t need anymore than itself to be exquisite.  The first lines in every stanza take us through an entire man’s life: “Buddy you’re a boy, make a big noise…you got mud on your face, a big disgrace, kickin’ your can all over the place”… singing “We will, we will ROCK you!” Keep rising. Keep fighting. Keep shining.  “Buddy you’re a young man, hard man…you got blood on your face, a big disgrace, waving your banner all over the place”… And right at about mid-life, don’t we all join causes and champion something or other, so we can remember that we’re alive, so that we can wake up the daily numbness, and so that we can “belong” to some movement – waving our banners all over the place, and “we will, we will rock you, we will we will rock you” and we all joined in.  We could never resist, because Freddie’s passionate energy was contagious and warmly beckoning  – an entirely filled Wembley stadium of 90,000 fans chanting the words with him, and the love was overflowing.  The love was overflowing.  “Buddy, you’re an old man, poor man…pleading with your eyes, gonna make you some peace someday… you got mud on your face…”  And again, “we will, we will rock you… we will, we we will ROCK you!”   Freddie definitely knew how to raise the vibration.  A soul ahead of his time and a kindred spirit.  Inspired by John Lennon, Freddie wrote a song called There Must Be More To Life Than This. He said that it was the nearest he wanted to go in terms of talking about world politics or the disasters happening around the world. A fellow empath, I believe it hurt his heart to write about the state of humanity.   ” Why is this world so full of hate? People dying everywhere. And we destroy what we create. People fighting for their human rights. But we just go on saying c’est la vie – so this is life.”  For Freddie, the theme had to be love.  Love. The one important subject nobody seems to talk about today. Today, when we need to talk about it the most.   And what about the theme of everyone working together to build a better world?  Time Waits for No One – how very true and how many songwriters approach the subject so directly and unabashedly?  “And it seems to me we’ve not cared enough, or confided in each other at all” – that’s an understatement if you ask me.  “It seems like we’ve all got our backs against the wall.”  Yes, we do.  The planet has its back against the wall.  Let’s multiply that microcosm of 90,000 adoring fans at Wembley Stadium chanting in unison, by almost itself -90,000 (8,185,531,174) to arrive at earth’s population today.  Let’s all raise the vibration together as a tribute to Freddie and chant the lyrics of Crazy Little Thing Called Love – let the whole world chant it together – 

“I gotta be cool, relax
Get hip and get on my tracks
Take a back seat, hitchhike
And take a long ride on my motorbike
Until I’m ready (ready Freddie)
Crazy little thing called love”
Categories
Uncategorized

ON ONCE IN A BLUE MOON RECOGNITIONS AND PREMONITIONS

I always had an artistic streak. But I come from an Eastern European family where the streak was never encouraged.  In fact, even if it was noticed, it would have been swept under the carpet.  Art was a hobby.  It was never meant to provide a living.  So, anything I drew, sang, or danced was met with a hesitant smile and a remark like, “That’s nice. Now go do your math homework.”  Math and science make money. But there were hints we received along the way.  It’s like when Siddhartha’s (prior to becoming the Buddha) father, King Suddhona, leader of the Shakya clan, insisted on teaching the young Buddha all the skills of being a warrior so that he could inherit the crown.  But we cannot control the paths of others. And this exact message was relayed to the king by a Brahmin priest who very specifically told the king, “Just as you cannot control the flow of a river, you cannot control Siddhartha’s destiny.  It is already written in the stars.  Siddhartha is not a warrior.  He will travel a different path.”  And just as the king did not pay attention to this warning, neither did my parents.  Clueless me continued to receive clues.  Some school kids would say, “you’re just different. You’re not like everyone else.”  But how?  I knew I was different, but how, and why?  I didn’t want to be different.  I wanted to be the same as everyone else. One of my friends said, “Sharon just feels more deeply.”  Yes. This is true.  Today I’ve learned that that’s called being an Empath. This was also the start of my yearning to be recognized for my talents, even though I didn’t know what those were yet.  That was my ego talking – for YEARS it would talk and talk and talk!   One of my teachers in elementary school called me a Utopian.  I asked him what that meant.  He said, “an idealist”.  Yes.  I suppose I am.  I am an open and confirmed PollyAnna. I try to see the good in everything, and to turn any negative into a positive.  So what?  What does that “skill” translate into?  Certainly not a traditional career.  Maybe because my parents couldn’t see my natural talents, I needed the rest of the world to see them, to acknowledge them, the way I thought my parents should have done.  Mine would not be the money making route my parents so desperately wanted for me.  And more hints would arrive, but not very often.  And I remember each one, as if it just happened yesterday. We were assigned art projects from time to time.  I don’t remember which class, and I don’t remember which teacher.  I had many of the necessary supplies because my father had a toy and stationary store.  I learned this technique where you’d put black poster paint over colored paper, and then with a wooden pencil-shaped utensil, draw the designs on the black surface so that the colors underneath would bleed through. I’m not at all sure why I was allowed to work on this for months and months, but I guess they saw how important this project was to me. Finally, one summer I was asked to submit my masterpiece.  I was taken by surprise when, at my elementary school graduation ceremony, the piece was finally presented, by our Principal, Mr. Johnson – for the entire student body, parents, teachers, and faculty to behold!  It had taken me the better part of a year to complete.  It was a village – hundreds of small homes with brick pathways leading up to the doors, chimneys, windows, surrounding trees, interwoven cobblestone streets…all of this was etched out through the black poster paint to reveal the rainbow colors  of the poster board beneath.  It was magical – truly magical.  Mr. Johnson called me up to the raised stage to present it.  I had no words.  I just proudly showed it to everyone.  There were some gasps from the audience.  Nobody could believe the intricacy of the piece, and the passion I had poured into it – it was all visible for them to see in my multi-colored night village. Another year, there was an announcement that the local arts council was having a poster contest for Halloween.  All the kids were talking about their ideas.   There would be haunted mansions, ghosts, goblins, witches, spiders, and vampires.  I wanted to be part of it so badly, but I couldn’t come up with an image.  I was comparing my feeble and inadequate poster ideas with everyone else’s, and it was clear that I was nowhere – blank slate figuratively and literally.  My mother kept reminding me of the entry deadline.  She saw my desperate struggle to find an image to draw.  Day after day – nothing.  No lightbulbs went off.  Every idea had been taken already, or so I thought.  It was slow and agonizing torture.  I think it was the final day I could enroll in the contest, and the idea came to me!  It was simple.  What’s wrong with simple?  I was looking for something fancy, crazy, original, and the entire time the answer lay in simplicity.  It was a gigantic jack-o-lantern pumpkin sitting on the ground against a starry night sky.  I guess something about the night sky always fascinated me.  It still does by the way.  I drew the giant circle that would be my pumpkin in pencil first, then the vertical grooves down its sides, then the carvings for its eyes and jagged toothy smile. I can’t remember if I included the traditional triangular nose. Then I drew the stem.  Simplicity was key!  Then when the penciled outline was just right, I went over it with black magic marker, so it popped.  Besides the smell of model glue, I loved the smell of magic markers too. (insert any hallucinogenic, addiction related judgmental comment here)  Then I filled in the entire circle with orange.  I must have used up two or three markers. I wasn’t one to leave white spaces in my drawings.  I also never colored outside the lines.  Today I ALWAYS color outside the lines, so to speak.  After I put the finishing touches on the night sky, I submitted the poster and then promptly forgot about it.  But this one gave me a different feeling.  I felt that in my discovery of simplicity being the answer, that I had unlocked the secret doorway.  It stood out, not because it was fancier, but because it just screamed the Halloween theme so elegantly.  I kept my secret hope alive. I felt that the silence of this wait for the winners to be announced was different than other silences.  It had a little sparkle in there, and I felt it.  I always feel sparkle, even when it’s not visible.  My feeling was right.  One sunny afternoon, my mother said I won first place in the poster contest.  She presented me with my little yellow square plaque with gilded edges, with my name on it – first place winner!  A small, yet major triumph for me.  And then came a completely different kind of artistic win.  I was in chorus. I auditioned.  I got in.  I don’t know how. I liked it, but I never loved it because I didn’t think my voice was anything special. Every week we would rehearse the tunes our chorus teacher selected for us.  I loved Mrs. Satterwhite.  She made everyone feel as if they were an operatic sensation even when it wasn’t true.  But then one day it happened.  The unthinkable.  Mrs. Satterwhite, thought MY voice was worthy of a solo!  A solo!  The song was Eres tu, written by Juan Carlos Calderon and played by the band Mocedades, representing Spain in the 1973 Eurovision Song Contest.  It placed 2nd, and then became an international hit.  I walked down from my usual chorus spot to the front where the microphone was and started off timidly, but with each chorus of Eres tu (It’s You), my confidence grew and this Mezzo Soprano belted it out.  Can you hear me?

Como una promesa eres tú, eres tú
Como una mañana de verano
Como una sonrisa eres tú, eres tú
Así, así eres tú
Categories
Uncategorized

ON BEING AN ENERGY HEALER AND A DIVA

And let’s face it, when one thinks of an energy healer, a vision of Diana Ross, or Cher, or Grace Jones does not come to your mind.  You probably picture an attractive middle aged woman, (most likely leaning against a tree trunk or sitting atop a mountain – at One with Mother Earth), organically aged, letting her grey grow in, maybe two long braids, puka beads around her neck draped over a linen pastel light blue kaftan (probably with some embroidery on it)  fitted not too loose and not too tight.  Just to say, “I am light, easy, and breezy.”  I like that image too, but that’s not me most of the time.  I am not always light, though I always bring light forward, I am DEFINITELY NOT easy, and the jury’s still out on “breezy”.  I’m not sure about Breezy at all.  Even when I’m in that outdoorsy mode, and I do love nature more and more with each passing day…the Diva says, “NO”, and it’s pretty firm when I hear her voice that asks, “Breeeeezy?”.  And I listen to her – to my Diva self.  That’s called honoring your shadow side.  The side that acknowledges the Diva inside of me. That acknowledges my lazy ass that does not want to go for a hike and sleep with the mosquitoes and slugs.  If I were to make one big SHARON DIVA, it would probably be a mix of Freddie Mercury, Marlon Brando, James Dean, Amelia Earhart, Joan of Arc, Mary Magdalene, and Tilda Swinton, and then magnified and amplified times 1 million.  But that’s just me.  So, don’t confuse me to be a Healer-Diva, but rather I am a healer and I am a diva, and the two don’t know each other that well, because frankly, the Diva would never show up to a Healer’s party, and the Healer would probably not be interested in the Diva’s party.  But believe it or not, I am starting to find a very good middle ground between the two. I would attend both parties. Call it glamping for the Diva and the Healer if they were to go together.  It IS possible, but not easy, and takes a lot of skill.  Ladies – come to terms with your Shadow side.  That’s the side that’s malicious, that’s jealous, that judges, that’s hypocritical, that’s vengeful and more…  And if you say you’re not any of those things, then you haven’t honestly looked at yourself in the mirror.  I’ve admittedly been all those women – Medusa, Medea, Persephone, but it’s the self-awareness that allows you to know they are inside of you.  It’s also self awareness that knows that these parts of you can shatter others with a mere look or a vindictive word.  So once we are aware that we have all those qualities (and they are qualities, not flaws), we also become aware of when and how to use them.  It’s called owning your shadow side.  Therefore, I allow myself to be a Diva and know I can also be a profound  and powerful healer.  That’s not me showing off.  We discover that there are endless ways to unleash the archetypes inside of us. That is me honoring a Divine gift from Above – and honor it I will.  Actually, in Quantum Touch Healing, you, the client, are the healer.  I just keep my vibration at its highest level possible, and your cells entrain or meet the energetic steppe of a brighter resonance.