Mystic Musings: In The Present Moment, There Is No Story

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In The Present Moment There, Is No Story ©2018 Joan M. Newcomb, CPC

I often feel like I’m the keeper of family secrets. Things I’ve seen or heard, witnessed that others haven’t. If I’m the only one who knows or remembers, does it make it real?

A few years ago I helped someone die at home. After helping my mother pass, I kinda sorta knew what I was stepping into, or so I thought.

It was a completely different experience.

Now, deaths are like births, everyone creates their own unique circumstances,whether they’re exiting the body or entering it. People gather for the event, that is they come into their lives (or come into their lives again) wittingly or unwittingly.

My mother’s passing was peaceful. I lay in bed beside her for 21 days giving her sips of water, as she birthed herself back to Spirit.

The other experience was chaotic. Their spouse was angry at them for dying, and enraged it was happening at home. They refused to give them pain medication, and in the last few days hospice assigned me to do so otherwise the person would have had to go to hospital.

Yet we were able to arrange family to Skype, or to show up, in those last few days, before they finally were able to leave.

Things got even more intense after their passing. And after I came home, I started having post traumatic stress symptoms – “startle” reflexes that took a long time to subside. And I would awake in the middle of the night replaying the story of the wrongs that had been done, over and over again, how I have scanned documents as proof, etc.

Now, that was over four years ago, but last week the startle reflexes came up out of the blue. I wondered if it had something to do with the holiday (the veils are thinner between worlds at such times).

And recently I had an email that entered me into that world again. And I had a really horrible sleepless night revisiting the experiences of the past.

Now I have no idea what the story has been on that side of things since all that happened. But I do sense that people are in still great grief, and that is sad.

It’s my story about the past that can still cause me pain. What injustices were done, what inconsiderations, what people did or did not do. But none of that is real now.

In the present moment there is no story. There is nothing going on but what is happening now. Now, I’m in my living room as I’m typing this. The clock is ticking. There is trickling water from the fish tank. Outside my windows there are hundred foot tall Douglas firs standing as silent guardians.

In the present moment I am restored to Consciousness. There is clarity, there is light, there is simplicity. It is an enormous feeling of Presence. I breathe, and release, knowing that it’s a benevolent Universe and all is very, very well.

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