Posts

Assertiveness: Parents + 2

pajamas

Armor of assertiveness

Very few of us escape our young childhood years without at least a few effects of misguided parenting here and there. And even if we had the greatest parents who made sure we felt love and supplied everything we needed, there may have been another whole realm of skills–assertiveness–that was overlooked. If you find yourself wishing that your assertiveness skills were a little beefier, this is for you. Lack of assertiveness is a chief cause of the bully/bullied syndrome. (If we are the products of parents who were quite off track–somewhere on the spectrum between the abusers and helicopters–we will also benefit by doing some work over in the Starfish Mission area. We need to heal our damaged souls to avoid passing on the hurt.) Continue reading “Assertiveness: Parents + 2”

Elegant Chemistry

Elegant

Connect with MiraLianna HERE.
chemistry
Test tubes in a laboratory

Miscues, mysteries, and losing ourselves via man-made scaffoldingl

Months have a way of gathering their own hanging chads–pings of delight, laughter, music, and grief. My September came early one year. The magical spark of life we were expecting about September 15 returned before we had realized. Twenty weeks of heartbeats, a few gentle movements, and then nothing. Memorial Day that year was awash at the lake. We’d planned a weekend with friends and were still able to go. One of the couples had a two-month-old babe. Watching the nursing couple ached down to my bones.

For reasons unknown, we seldom have conversations about miscarriages. Of course, we never get the chance to know these little souls who bravely tried to tackle the difficult–even arduous mission of life on this planet. So, there is not much to talk about, really. So many things must come together in elegant precision for the spark of life to occur. (Real sparks-check the link!) Still, one has to wonder why the missions abort. Continue reading “Elegant Chemistry”

More rocks

Twilight Zone

Connect with MiraLianna HERE.

The Russian ballerina pressed on relentlessly, honing every move, gritting through pain, powering through fear, and achieving her evening as prima ballerina. After the performance, the ordinary returned. Walking out through the back door into the dark rain and back to her tiny apartment, she knew that tomorrow would be more of the same old shtick.  She would need to prove herself time and time again. This documentary from- Continue reading “More rocks”

Seeing stars. Walking on water.

Twinkle

Connect with MiraLianna HERE.
IMG_20150608_201332_959.jpg

Starfish Mission is beginning to twinkle…

The past few months have been a marathon of deep diving. I been resurfacing time after time, each dive reaping more treasure. This morning, my words to my husband were something like, “I think I know how to stay on the surface now. And when I go under, I know that I’ll be able to resurface and breathe again.”

In that moment, I caught a glimpse of what Jesus was probably trying to say: “Take my hand. I’ll show you how to walk on this calm, refreshing surface so you can show others how to do it. This is my amazing Kingdom where all are equally valuable and equally commissioned. This is the leveling place where you can meet and decide your next direction. Here on the surface of my life-giving waters, I want you to be able to experience my power, my love, and the power you have with each other–drawing in–breathing in—all of the fullness of my Kingdom. Here, we continue the evolution of our Universe.”

I have been borrowing quite a few photos from Google’s free-to-use collection, but this photo is all mine. These are my waters for dancing today.

My own plunging, floundering, breathless, and black-hole story is now tucked into a sub-menu on my About MiraLianna page.

An amazing community of people and ideas has been coming together like headwaters–helping to create  Starfish Mission. On the Starfish Mission page (top of this page on a PC or bottom if you are on a mobile device), you can find ENTRY POINTS. A little like the children’s book series, Choose Your Own Adventure, can can choose your entry point depending where you are in the journey of life. Included is the life-raft of the Black Hole point, when nothing is working and you are gasping for air.

  • Entry point: Pre-Marriage
  • Entry Point: Wanting a Family
  • Engry Point: New Parents
  • Entry Point: Raising a Family
  • Entry Point: Black Hole (This is a designed as a first stop if, for any reason, you are feeling rudderless, uncertain, without purpose, neglected, abused, fearful, or unhappy.)

Today feels like yet another one of my myriad pivot points. (Apparently, I’m all about pointing today.)

Happy Birthday. Proud of you. Still..where is the love?

Yesterday, I wrote about my mother appearing in a dream on my birthday, two weeks after she died. That really happened.

This past week, I had a moment when I was consumed with a great shudder and a flood of tears. This defies all forms of logic and everything but the intention of my original journey. If you knew me personally, you would be shaking your head in amazement. You would know how intent I have been on a path of Show Me. This…whatever, whomever, is trying to get through to me is pure and unadulterated experience.

She loves me, after all

My shudder, my flood of tears: my mother seemed to be saying to me, “Yeah, we had a lot of crap to work through. It sucked, didn’t it? We had a mission, you and I, and now–look at you. 1500 hits, 530 views, 50 posts–all in one month. You have been featured on *Dr. Jonice Webb’s website, Facebook page, and Twitter feed.  You are doing your mission, you have found your purpose. You have always been a great daughter. I am still proud of you. And now, I’m not just signing ‘Love, Mom’–now I’m telling you…I have loved you–will love you–forever and forever.”

❤ ❤ ❤

Mira

*Dr. Webb’s book, Running on Empty, provided MY entry point. Through her work, I found a key to unlock my door and knock down my wall. I found what was missing, how many of us got into this mess, and what can help. I’m now linking arms with anyone who will. We have generations of hope ahead.

Happy Birthday

Plop

Connect with Mira Lianna HERE.

insurance

Happy Birthday

Week number one: New Year’s Day. Week number two: Birthday.

Number? Right. Numb seemed more like it.

She’d closed the lid on her tears. The rest of the boxes sat unopened in the living room. He put the boys to bed, while she removed the last traces of eye-makeup and splashed her face. The water–chilled by sub-zero temperatures outside–took forever to warm, snaking its way up to the second-floor bathroom. She continued until it began to drip toward her elbows. She looked in the mirror. It was over. The nightmares had stopped.

Their heavy woolen blankets, nestled between sheets and comforter, could block out anything–even a vengeful winter wind. It was warm. He’d slipped in at least fifteen minutes before. Sleep came easily. She’d wondered if she would ever feel that lightness again–that delicious moment when wakefulness passes the baton to the filtering dreamworld of subconsciousness.

He’d asked his secretary to call. Strange. Why would her mom’s insurance agent want her to stop by his office? Whatever. She set out, tires crunching the winter snow, settling in for the two hour trip.  When she stepped into his office, he offered a handshake, and with other held out an envelope. “Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes. Please. Definitely! It will feel good.” The brave sun was doing its best, but clear overnight skies had unmercifully allowed the previous day’s heat to escape.

Her hands felt steady. It was an act of will. With no particular attention paid to undoing the clasp, she slid out the single sheet of paper. The handwriting was familiar.

“I just wanted you to know,” it began, “in case I wouldn’t have had a chance to say good-bye, that you were a good daughter. I was proud of you, and I haven’t forgotten. Happy Birthday! I will see you again soon. Love, Mom.”

The buzzer on the radio-alarm brought her back. She drew in a deep breath as she heard a few cars crunching to a stop at the intersection below her window. She rolled onto her back, still clutching the sheet-blanket-comforter assemblage so she could draw in the dry, warmed air more easily.

Awareness–the envelope, reaching through the thin veil between life and death and plopping into her hands with an unassuming assurance–had sealed the trust.  The nightmare was over, indeed.

-Mira

Christ was not a Christian

Connect with Mira Lianna HERE.

Jesus broke the rules. He rejected many religious customs of the day. And yet he sat in Synagogues to listen and learn with discernment. He showed us what is possible if we open our minds to our source of love and consciousness right here. Within reach. It is so easy that babes can feel it. But humans want that control, so humans make it hard to get.

Continue reading “Christ was not a Christian”

Journalist’s Creed

Cake
Jschool-quad

Photo: The School of Journalism at the University of Missouri, Columbia

Public Trust: Caked in mud or washed in truth?

Who knows why ideas come together? The University of Missouri in Columbia has been coming up in topics of my conversations with various people the past few days—just random things, but connected to that University. Then, the year 1914–the year my father was born. 1914 was the beginning of WWI, for which we have a world-renown museum near my home.

Continue reading “Journalist’s Creed”

Eclipse of a Theory

Eclipse

The Upside-Down Pyramid?

In 1943, Abraham Maslow developed his celebrated hierarchy of needs. Something about that pyramid always seemed cold and impersonal. I remember first seeing it. Revisiting it on myriad occasions in my teacher training and other reference points could never remedy that feeling. Only now am I realizing why. I think that Maslow was looking at it upside-down. Continue reading “Eclipse of a Theory”

Intuition

Sidewalk
einstein

 

What is intuition? The sidewalks of thought?

I have noticed that creative minds tend to be most active late at night–working into the wee hours before finally collapsing into bed. As a result, sleep schedules sometimes do not exist for creative minds–apparently true for Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, Napoleon, Thomas Edison, and Nikola Tesla, among others. This word makes more sense now:  inspiration–the source of second winds! Continue reading “Intuition”