Guides are with us at all times. Can you imagine having to wait so long for us to acknowledge their presence? Their loving patience puts me in a state of humility…well, for a moment anyway…and makes me want to make up for decades of shutting them out.
In a previous message, my guides showed me how past lives affected my confidence and ability to cook and serve meals for people who I sincerely care about. Less than three weeks later, I am amazed at the transition I feel – the transformation! I could hardly wait to share a healthy, robust, and delicious dinner with a friend.
I said to my Guides: Do you think I ought to tell the blog readers that I actually invited Randy for dinner?
That would be good. How was the experience for you?
It confirmed that I like spontaneous meal prep. If I plan a dinner in advance, I feel compelled to go all out. I go overboard and create an unnecessary amount of stress. When I cook what I have, it is not stressful for me.
How did this opportunity come about?
It’s really interesting that I’ve had past life experiences that associated meals and meal prep with abuse. This was so opposite. It arose out of genuine caring and concern.
On Saturday, I took some medication due to a very weird physical situation. These meds were a stop gap until I saw my Dr. this coming week. The pharmacist explained the possible effects of the pills and let me decide if I wanted them or not. I decided to take the directed number of pills around 1:00 pm on Saturday.
About 5:00 pm, as I was working on the computer, I noticed some strange bodily occurrences. A very sharp pain would intermittently streak through my head. I’d feel nauseous, then hot, then chilly. There were other minor events that I shrugged off. However, when my vision became blurred and I felt dizzy, I knew some action was needed.
A weed eater was operating next door. Relief washed over me. My friend Randy has the contract to do the neighbour’s garden work. I walked over and asked him if he would pop in when he was finished. About a half hour later, he arrived at my door.
By this time, I could not focus my eyes and was not steady on my legs. I knew I couldn’t drive. I told him I needed to go to the hospital. Randy gathered his goods and chattels and we headed for Emergency.
I went in alone. I knew he wanted to clean up and fix himself something to eat. I told him I’d walk to his place when I finished.
The doctor confirmed that I was reacting to the meds. I was given the reassurance that if I was going to experience anything worse, it would have happened by then. Relieved that I wasn’t having a stroke or going blind, I left the hospital and walked the two blocks to Randy’s home.
When I got there, he had had a shower and was about to eat his dinner. I declined his offer for food – not a welcome thought. I just wanted to lie on the couch, under a blanket and take refuge in his company. So he made me a welcome and warming cup of Chamomile tea.
I wrapped myself in his warm, cozy comforter and laid on the couch as he ate. We chatted the evening away in candlelight that reduced the blurry vision and subsequent dizziness.
In our chat, I confessed to Randy that I’d had a hellish Friday. I wondered if Saturday’s experience was my comeuppance after a blatant bout of being on the pity pot.
On Friday, after a few disappointments resulting in a down-day, I had gone to bed thinking that I was totally alone in the world, convinced that there was not a single soul who loved me. None of my family cared a tick whether I was alive or dead. If I died in my house, I decided, I would lie rotting for weeks and no one would know. I was so securely on the pity pot that I was wide awake – a great opportunity to add more worry to my dismal repertoire: having no income, having no love and no purpose in life whatsoever.
Suddenly, here I was, the next day, HAVING TO ASK for help. And there was Randy, a deeply spiritual man with whom I could feel utterly confident sharing anything, willingly available and caring. He calmly listened and chuckled at the list of items on my negative checklist. He knew distress of this nature is a passing matter and stayed completely present through my diatribe of misery.
By 10:30, after my confessional, I was fatigued and ready for home. Once in my house, I immediately went to bed, exhausted and prayed that my vision would return to normal by morning.
Sunday morning, the world looked brighter. My vision was normal. I caught up on some computer work and the phone rang a number of times. Suddenly I realized I still had friends. Randy called to see how I was doing and asked if he could drop by with fresh spinach from his garden. What a different attitude I felt. What a shift!
When Randy arrived, I was cutting up a variety of veggies with plans for a stir-fry dinner. He had mentioned that he had some things to do so I just put the veggies away in the fridge.
As we sat in the living room with a warm, blazing fire, the afternoon slipped by seamlessly. Suddenly I was hungry. “I’m going to make a stir-fry. Would you care to join me?” I could not believe that I actually said that!
“Sure, I could do that,” he said. I don’t know what happened to his plans, but I wasn’t going to ask. I headed for the kitchen really looking forward to making a good meal for us. Imagine! I have a male friend who shares my eating style – alkaline-balanced meals with little or no yeast or sugar. Well, I cheat, but being under the scrutiny of a homeopathic doctor, Randy is very disciplined.
What a joy to make a meal that this man could eat with relish and gusto. Eating out has not been easy for him with the strict rules he’s had to follow for the past few months. What a delight to be able to say thank you to him with a gesture that used to put me into apoplexy.
I know he appreciated the whole experience: the selection of veggies, the delicacies of flavours, the warm fire, my comfortable home, and some good conversation.
This is the quality of sharing that I want to experience with my friends. I know that I have been missing out on a quality of companionship that can so easily be filled with shared meals.
What did the experience do for you?
It seemed to soften me. It helped me to feel human. It gave me a chance to receive and to think differently about it. And I realized I do not have to do any of it alone – which was a big excuse in the past. Randy offered to help with any meal prep. He went out to get more firewood and looked after the stove. We reveled in comfortable silences as I heated the sesame oil to begin my offering and he thumbed through a book I had from his home city.
Life was good.
This is an example of how looking at past lives dissipates fears and transforms souls. This is a shift of consciousness. It opened your heart to a willingness that produced confidence and determination.
I hope I can stay where I am with this shift. I want to keep going.
Then you will! You will move forward with blessings and joy.
Thank you, my loving Guides. You make me burst with love at times.