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May 28, 2012

Saturday in May

by Kristina Amelong

Saturday in May. Not sure the date. I know the waves in the lake lap against the shore. I know the wind blows the red rose bush next to the brick building. I know the swallows circle around the willow tree.

Pen to paper. Pen to paper. Again, I know nothing, nothing to write down, nothing to share with you, nothing in my mind. Nothing.

Back to what I know. Grass beneath my sandaled feet. Rivers of ink forming letters, now words, now sentences and,  maybe more importantly, now love. Do you hear it?

A lone Cedar tree welcomes the clouds as they arrive. I still do not know what the date is. Seems we humans constructed time so we could catch trains, go somewhere, do something.

A woman under a red baseball cap lies on a white woolen blanket, reading. She is still except her toes move about like a colony of ants or a school of fish or a chocolate Labrador rolling on a dead fish. I wonder what those toes are thinking, feeling, where they are going? She turns her page, scratches her nose. What is she reading? Moments before, she lay in the sun on the wooden pier covered in white, dried birdshit on that white woolen blanket. Now she lies against the slope of  a small grassy hill with her book, her blanket, her red baseball cap and her busy toes.

I still don't know what the date is. Did I think writing about what I do know, what I noticed, would place me back in time like a man might set his beer on a bar after a long, satisfying gulp?

I hope so. Where am I without knowing time?

The grass below this picnic table, below the white wool blanket, next to the lapping waves, below the circling swallows, adjacent to the waving Cedar tree, is not only one color green, but rather patterned in diagonal stripes – telling me a person with a lawnmower once came here, to this place I am in and moved this lawnmower across this grass, on a different date.

What date is it now?

Windy. Fat. Possible. White caps on the lake. Kale. Broken pottery sculptures. Shit. This shit. Birdshit. Bicycle chains. Ancient metal birdbaths – empty, no water. White woolen blankets. May. Motorboats. Six legs, translucent wings; now on my thumb; now gone. A red kayak. A yellow kayak. "I like that one," the woman in the red baseball cap exclaims.

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May 27, 2012

The Skin You Are In

by Kristina Amelong

Back to the healing tool of my daily practice:
Contemplative Writing.

Today's Prompt: The Skin You Are In

Just today, I found myself talking about building the soul.

"Why do I feel as if I want to weep?"
"Grief can be so deep."

Even when my outer life is full of the deep red of tulips, the trill of red-winged blackbirds, the wet and cold of spring grass under my feet, I still feel such a deep grief.

"Hello to you."
"Are you one of my souls?"

Just today, I heard the Tibetans think we have 3 to 5 souls. "Do you all live within me or are you that space between myself and the red-winged blackbirds amongst the marsh cattails? I do not know. Do you?"


"Whom I talking to?"

Seems my mother knew my brother was going to die, too. "What was she to do?" Seems she brought people into rooms with closed doors and consoled them with the story of it, "He knew he would die and he wants you to know he is fine," she would say.

"Exactly what does that mean? Did he have five souls? What is he now?"

One - A tin can kicking along a barren street?
Two - A kitten just learning the joys of a ball of red yarn?
Three - A blizzard atop of Mount Kilimanjaro?
Four - A shoe, purple, a high top?
Five - His sister's impulse to write?
Seems his body was so destroyed his organs couldn't even be donated,
not one of them. Seems he died a violent death.  Remember, it's okay,
he said.

"I'm glad to hear this, as I was just about to weep."

Just today, while doing yoga, the instructor placed his hands on me, both hands, right and left. I was sitting up, bent right leg over bent left leg. I was twisted; I was becoming a spiral. The yogi  lifted, supported, turned me more. My body merged into the expansion, into places I had never been before -- spaces within skin, muscle, beingness -- a new me. And, the voice, the feeling was -- can I just please die? can I just die now?

Laughing. Life isn't so serious. Now, joy.

Seems my presence doesn't end at my skin -- it flies with flocks of birds at sunset. It merges with raging rivers at snow-melt.

"Look up. Do you see color? It is everywhere. right now, as I write, as I read, my beingness swoops and turns and glides and lands and chirps and soars."

Mary Oliver says she knows one thing for sure – that in attentiveness we build our soul. I found this quote for the first time last night and all this time I thought I had just had a soul, was born with it. Little did I know I was building it like a Lego set -- yellow block on top of blue block on top of green block on top of red block -- a tower on a shag carpet. Watch out, here comes my baby brother to knock it over. Mommie!

My cousin, Cydney, cried two days ago while sharing with me her experience of my brother Jay's death as she ate my Aunts Ruth's lemon poppy seed cake. When I was a child I used to beg Aunt Ruth each holiday to always make sure that poppy seed cake would be there for the next holiday -- those black, tiny seeds suspended in sugar and flour, topped with wind-blown, snow-like frosting. Deep inside between the two round cake layers, a yellow layer of lemon ooze emerged. I love that cake. Yes, I love that cake -- even though I cannot eat it as I have Celiac Disease.

"There is really nothing else to say."

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May 14, 2012

You Can Heal

by Kristina Amelong

As I share in my book, Ten Days to Optimal Health, I started my healing journey in the 12-step programs Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous. These resources were crucial in tackling my drug and alcohol addictions. Being  part of these programs was one of the best things that I have ever done. Yes, I worked the steps, read the Big Book. Another book that I was introduced to those 20-plus years ago was Louise Hay's You Can Heal Your Life. Reading her book, I was introduced to the concept that what I thought mattered, and not only mattered but might just determine how my life went, how good my health was, how good my relationships were, and how I was doing economically. Since my thoughts were consistently negative at this time in my life -- nobody likes me, I hate myself, I'd rather die than live this life, pain, pain and more pain -- I felt I would give these unlikely healing tools a try. After all, I felt life had to get better if I was thinking "I love myself'" rather than "I wish I was dead."

My body now restores itself to its natural state of good health.
My income is constantly increasing.
I do the work I love.
I am passionate about life.
I am well.

I did these affirmations and more hundreds of time a day. It felt silly but now, 22 years later, I offer here that what I think absolutely makes a difference to the quality of my life. I created and the Optimal Health Center coming from an earlier life where my highest aspirations were to some day own a McDonald's. Yes, I recommend Hay's book, You Can Heal Your Life. And now you can watch her entire movie, You Can Heal Your Life, on YouTube, in which she is joined by many other healers such as Esther Hicks, Greg Bradden, Candace Pert, and Christian Northrup, who all share their own experiences with changing their thinking to change their life. Please watch it and post your experiences here or on our Facebook page.

Funny, but after writing this blog post, I realize that throughout my book, Ten Days to Optimal Health, and my website, I repeat over and over again: You Can Heal. Yes, Louise Hay's work has had a profound influence on my life. Yes, I have experienced tremendous healing on many levels in my own life, creating this business and recovering my body from a chronic illness of celiac disease, multiple chemical sensitivities, depression, and more.

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