tag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:/blogs/the-prose-of-a-poet?p=2The Prose of a Poet2024-03-19T21:19:14-06:00Melissa Rempelfalsetag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/73696012024-03-19T21:19:14-06:002024-03-19T21:29:13-06:00Grounded in Flow<p> </p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/286675/ad11ab83b5ef2b02c1525a8c58cf13836a9702ed/original/2.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" height="1080" width="1080" /><p>Two days ago I stood in a cold river to cool my feet down. And to feel the earth beneath them. It's March. It's cold. It's going to snow tonight. But in that moment, it was warm. The wind and sun felt like spring, and I happily engaged with the taste of the new season. Grounded. I need to remember that feeling because in this day, there were enough moments of emotional roller coasters to distractedly dictate discombobulated activity. At times it felt like too many worlds were colliding with my own.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Even my fridge demanded my focus, and it usually runs hands free. I thought it was dead. I flipped the breaker - nothing. I forgot we moved the fridge to the other side of the room and the circuit is now not labelled fridge. I thought, it's cold in here, why did the heater quit. Clarity struck, and I checked the right breaker and the old Love flickered to life. I guess the fridge and the heater don't share well. Mama shall have to remember. Relief endorphins are almost like falling in love. You forget you are tired. You clean the floor under the fridge because it was moved in the investigation. You clean the coils because you feel sorry for the fridge. I heard her pain.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I've had a lot of change too, in the last year. Much has shifted, things I have been along for but not directly in charge of. Support. Scaffolding. I held everyone else up. I forgot what the ground felt like when I feel it for myself. I forgot the feeling of the current of life. I forgot what happens when I am plugged in and I don't have to manage my energy usage because there might not be enough to share if I do the things that feed my soul. Reveal my beautiful depths.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I made a cognitive choice to look for my own expansion. When I am fulfilled I have so much more to pour into others. It is "just there" instead of me needing to plumb the depths of the Source of All in a moment of desperation. I hear better, commune better, create better. And so, I began simple. I will write when the Sun hits the couch and I want to marinate in the warmth and cheer of her presence. I will look forward to the full schedule of reflexology clients. I will play piano, if only for a song, and not let the dust insulate her from me due to inactivity. I will embrace the minutes at the shoe store because while I don't feel the excitement I once did, every time I go in, I find I am necessary in that moment.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>And I will catch the momentum of collaboration when it moves past me, ride it into the stream of possibility instead of bemoaning the absence of friends or creative partners. These things I said.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>And like the flow of the stream in which I stood and breathed in the tangible perspective, my life, too has begun to pulse and pull and prove that it is an integral part of this participatory universe.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I am moving forward. Fake dead fridges and friends with dreams in alignment with my own. The promise of doing music and getting to play well with others, of doing feet and meeting more souls along the way, of writing words that will set another free and help them embrace the wonder of their own healing. These things are mine. The lines between coming and present are beginning to blur. I am in the middle of it all, and I happily breathe in inspiration, and exhale the manifestation of it.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>~M</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/73166582023-12-08T16:20:09-07:002023-12-08T19:27:55-07:00Conundrum<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/286675/dee8a22d5d78fd51c93890ee577983da127cf3ff/original/the-cost-of-peace-2.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p><p> </p><p><strong>Conundrum</strong></p><p>“Sweet embraceable you…”</p><p>You were once to me.<span> </span></p><p>A friend beloved, a space safe.<span> </span></p><p>That is on interminable hiatus.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>My conundrum</p><p>It wasn’t my choice<span> </span></p><p>I’m not convinced<span> </span></p><p>It was yours either.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>We all walked in to the same room.</p><p>The context had changed,<span> </span></p><p>But the gist was the same.<span> </span></p><p>The playing field isn’t level here.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I have become a stranger</p><p>With a shared history.<span> </span></p><p>An enigma who presents a conundrum.<span> </span></p><p>Met with silence and an awkward smile.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>You’ve avoided me a while.<span> </span></p><p>I haven’t come where you are.<span> </span></p><p>But shared loves</p><p>Have drawn us both into the open.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I know where I am.<span> </span></p><p>But it’s very clear you don’t</p><p>And the self imposed disconnection from me</p><p>Hasn’t prepared us for this moment.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I left. Not you. A place.<span> </span></p><p>An institution.<span> </span></p><p>But you can’t make<span> </span></p><p>The distinction.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Silence is my companion</p><p>Not because I don’t want to talk</p><p>But because I don’t want to force</p><p>The override of the disconnect.</p><p> </p><p>I’m ready.<span> </span></p><p>I’m not sure you are.<span> </span></p><p>It’s a</p><p>Conundrum. <span> </span></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>What happens after you leave the fundamental world and you have to cross paths with those who were close, which for many of us, is the holiday season? Avoidance is often the one tool we have in the kit to deal with the awkward social interactions… but when you can’t and you are forced to coexist, even outside the realm of your previous connection, it is so messy. I left a church I had been involved in for the majority of my life, and stayed in the community. Many of my friendships didn’t survive, and I have endured a rather large number of timid smiles and surface cordiality over the ensuing years. What they don’t know is that I’m not mad. I have actually gleaned insight and wisdom into where they are that has me content to leave them to the security of belief they enjoy in their present. I also don’t want to argue, sway, or justify my present world view. All of that is gone. It has morphed with the healing process, and moved into the history section of my personal library. I am at peace.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I just want to Love them. To know them. To be the friend I thought I was, once. I don’t want to run from them, but gosh… the bashful response to my presence made me feel as though I should have brought a large number of objects big enough to hide behind for everyone that was avoiding me. Humans are funny with each other when trauma makes their decisions. It makes fear out of the friendly shadows produced by the sun on a clear day. The assumptions we make about someone else’s state of mind, or heart, craft too many preconceptions concerning the perception of judgments they “must be making.” I used to think being misunderstood was the worst rejection that could happen to someone. It isn’t. Being deliberately shut out and feared on the grounds of belief alone supersedes that. Shutting someone out abruptly and without communicating the reason is incredibly wounding for all parties - especially if it is done, not because of survival instinct, but because of an external edict, or loyalty demanded from another entity. This is, to me, proof that we were designed for, by, and as, Love. It is in our DNA to have healthy, knowing, vulnerable, intimate, connection. Imposed separation throws us out of alignment at a deep level.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Even after you heal from the experiences that lead you to change the way you think, the communication with anyone who was part of the trauma story can be dicey. Aside from the connected emotional mess they have internally accumulated, there are differing ideas concerning what “healed/healing” looks like. There’s so much semantical clutter around understanding forgiveness, that healthy boundaries and a more objective, or even differing<span> </span>view expressed out loud can be perceived as not really having forgiven. In many circles, forgiveness means a complete moratorium on the the experience. Courts insist you forget abuse when making custody arrangements, churches often expect that you make someone welcome and reinstate their role in your life because they apologize. Families often sweep things under the rug entirely and insist on “kissing and making up.”<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Forgiveness is none of those things. It is largely gaining enough perspective on a situation, event, or person, to allow yourself to heal. It does not result in unconditional reconciliation, however it may yield an open door to a healing conversation. In some instances, trust should never be restored. I think, that happens more frequently with organizations and institutions than with people. Sometimes it is ok to abandon ship in a life boat and find your own island to live on. Well placed boundaries seem like overkill to a person who can’t see the strain or damage they have put on the relationship, either as the result of their own unhealed trauma, or because of an ingrained world view that holds no space for new light. When you have become flexible and open, it feels threatening to someone who finds safety in a rigid system of belief, especially if the only relational context has been within a mutually held ideology.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Every person has a different journey, but I recall when my anger passed and I began to heal. It sounded very much like this,“Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing… and if they do, they are too scared to stop.”<span> </span>Compassion let me see myself in their responses for just long enough to remember what I looked like when my world was the same size. We all behave like caged abused animals when we find ourselves living completely inauthentically. Being part of a collective is often done at considerable loss to the intrinsic design and uninhibited being of a person. We are forced into roles we are not suited for by beliefs. We let go of dreams, visions, loves, sometimes family, just to be included. This creates grief and internal disconnection. It also births a hyper vigilant, over protective inner child unafraid, and often unaware, of offending someone else when the feel their safety is threatened. I’m convinced this is why few relationships survive theological shifts when they do not occur in tandem. When one can freely embrace all the parts of themselves and love them, healthy emotional and spiritual integration inevitably follows and one matures. Nothing threatens the superimposed template of external behavioural control that utterly contradicts the natural healthy inclination and creates inauthentic existence, like someone who has matured and now spontaneously fruits full bodied self control. Peer friendships can often become more like parent child relationships as one grows and leaves the other behind. Perhaps the most mature act we can do as the one who grows, is to leave someone else behind to discover their own path. No one else can have our Journey into Love.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Fear, not Love, drives the religious. To live with the cognitive dissonance this creates, I need to allow them to behave like the scared little kids they most likely are. For that is when they became afraid. Trauma hits the first time you get treated like you are unacceptable or unlovely just as you are. Religion holds up a dark mirror and tells you that you are innately sinful and born in a separate state.<span> </span>You are “other” and need to do something to find yourself fit for inclusion. Unfortunately, both the institution and the family unit can back this in discipline, expectations, and parenting style. It is a lifestyle we don’t choose, and aren’t at liberty to leave until society says we have come of age. The desire to be accepted often makes one table themselves and pick up a role as a pseudo identity, causing an internal divorce from our authentic selves that we spend a lifetime grieving until we begin to deliberately heal and embrace ourselves as uniquely and purposefully put together in our mother’s womb.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>We need to let Love clean the mirror and hold it up again, revealing beauty in the innate design, wholeness in the creature, irrevocable placement in the One Who is Life, and give breath to the dream born of those many pleasant thoughts. A system cannot dictate identity or the expression of it. Trauma should not be given permission to decide behaviour towards ourselves or others. That is the inclusive role of Love in the universe. Fear should not dictate the maturity level of our responses and communication. That should be left to Love as well. Love has the power to dissolve the conundrum.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>It is beautiful and lovely to be me. “…Sweet embraceable you” don’t you see it too?<span> </span></p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/72559632023-08-11T19:18:19-06:002023-11-07T05:53:32-07:00The Cost of Peace<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/286675/4fb20f2504aa5c3d20249918184c557d5a8c8db6/original/the-cost-of-peace.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p> </p><p>No one enjoys conflict. Confrontation is generally an affront. All of us bristle at someone else taking issue with a behaviour or self expression. These things are normal. But, what if they didn’t have to be a threat? What if we were so mature that our insecurity dissolved and the arguments and tension dissipated into conversations that encouraged growth, and intimate knowledge of each other, fostering love and support, even community?<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>The present cultural climate seems to have us abandoning relational ship over misunderstandings or ideological incongruencies. We don’t stick around long enough to work anything out because we assume the intent of the other is to wound. I know many physical experiences that we expect to find painful on the road to healing. Tiny things like releasing the contents of a pimple, extracting a sliver, pulling gravel out of a scraped knee, treating a burn. Larger things like setting a bone, childbirth, or removing a tumour. All of these things have a healing process, and generally, the need for another person to be a part of the journey. Our emotional and spiritual traumas are no different. We often don’t realize there is a wound until someone gets close enough to press on the wound. That requires relationships. Conflict, is, essentially, the operating room of the inner maze that weaves our being together.</p><p> </p><p>I’ve learned, in my own healing journey, too much about trauma, as well as how much influence we have over our own life and healing, for silence to be my norm in conflict. I cannot enrich my relationship if I walk away from awkward interpersonal interactions. I can’t know someone else fully, we can’t be part of each other’s healing experience. Our wounds isolate us when we control our environment to avoid the ones we’ve allowed to fester. If I am going to heal, I am going to have to listen to my own spirit as well as the expression of another. Triggers deserve enough time spent in introspection so that we understand why they are there. Poor responses are not part of our personality. People are not “just like that” because it is their innate design to be either abrasively controlling or insecure. Knowing leads to growing and healing.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I’ve realized how much we hide behind our “biblical expectations” of God when we grow up evangelical. We wait for him to heal us of things that we have the power to muddle through. We expect other people to coddle us so we don’t have to grow, often asking forgiveness for poor behaviour and following it with a “humble” admission that we have asked God to help us be more loving, and implying that he is still working on us… if only we understood that finding our place in Christ means working out our salvation (healing), not dragging others, fearfully, into an ambiguous heaven for “eternity.”<span> </span>Living in Love and moving in peace and joy tends to draw others into holy connection and awareness anyway… without the awkward fear of hell.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>We have been given everything we need for physical and spiritual life, on this beautiful planet. All the gifts we need to heal exist in the community we are worked into - including triggers to make us go within and see our own issues. If we are not at peace, it is because we should not be. Either our boundaries have been pushed by someone else’s poor ones, or ours have been in the wrong spot because of a past trauma that went unaddressed, and we are now treading on someone else’s ground to protect ourselves. Sometimes it’s even a physical wound that we didn’t respond to properly - grieve through, or give our body the tools to heal from. We do need to sort through the experiences we have in life. Things happen to us. Family culture influences our view of ourselves, makes us question and manipulate our innate design. Traumatic events have ways of causing us to tailor our future interactions so that we don’t get hurt again.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I have found it interesting that in taking inventory of one’s gifts, aptitudes, or personality, researchers who have assessed, categorized, and subsequently created “tests” to help us understand ourselves, the questions often use both positive and negative behavioural patterns to reveal one’s placement in the given spectrum. If it wasn’t possible to wound a person at the level of their blue print in a way that predictably and indefinitely alters the way they function in relationships and situations, this wouldn’t be necessary. However the design of a human being is not that they are going to be basically offensive or unkind to anyone. The very necessity of these balanced tools are evidence of the widespread trauma we accumulate as we move through life along with those who either choose not to know us, and prefer to manage those around them to protect themselves, or, just don’t possess the maturity or tools to love others avoiding to their unique bent. Every strata of the original culture one is born into has the power to help or hinder our growth and development. Every person experiences each influence and event differently. I think this is why the happiest people are those who are constantly engaged in connective relationships, perpetually learning, and deliberately healing and fostering deep spirituality. We cannot control the environment we are born into, but as we mature, we can learn to create a personal petri dish in which we are free to thrive on our own terms, according to our needs.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>If you have felt that culture hasn’t shaped you at all, consider this: our western religious system has a, “wait, and beg god to move,” mentality, and our medical system centres around rescue remedies, coping therapies and, in some cases, comfort until death options. Considering we were designed for authentic, abundant, eternal life, a lot of our experience in the current climate should be increasingly unsettling as we awaken into our true, limitless identity. We were created for imitate, unbroken, constant communication with our Source. Every system we have in place at the moment, is asking us to be outsourced rather than insourced. This can make us feel like in order for things to be in alignment internally, circumstances have to be manipulated, and therefore people need to make space for us to remain stagnant until our external climate caters to our inner safety. We can spend a long time waiting for someone else to unlock our inner mysteries, especially with the human tendency to cordon off pain in the dark recess of the heart, creating suffering instead of uninhibited freedom.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>We cannot heal without the messiness of relationships. They are a gift to us. Being at peace with all men doesn’t mean perpetual deferment and abdication from our convictions. That is inauthentic living and it carries consequences for both the one accommodating and the one expecting it. Because we live in the petri dish of our own thoughts… creating our own environment or personal eco system, we leave our body vulnerable to degeneration. The physical state of our being is the mirrored expression of our inner climate. When we struggle to control another’s behaviour in order to avoid dealing with our own trauma, we pollute their environment. Such an endeavour is a bit like overloading an elevator and expecting it to function properly. We are designed to carry things together, yes, but not to place our burdens in the lap of another and continue to do so until they break. Like that elevator groaning and hesitating, the people around us may be showing us their own breaking point in small outburst, tears on the surface, displays of anxiety, or just plain evasive conversation or physical avoidance. Sometimes that is the wounds of one bumping up against the wounds of another and smarting a bit. However, if this happens a lot in your relationships, it’s probably a good plan to sit with that response and learn which of your wounds may be speaking in place of your heart. Courage isn’t displayed in protective offence despite fear, but rather in a vulnerability that owns our insecurities and seeks healing for them. We do not have to gain control of a situation in order to keep control of ourselves. We need to understand why we are afraid of losing control. It’s ok to be scared. It’s not ok to live perpetually afraid.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Love doesn’t seek control. Love wants to know the depths of a person and heal the wounds, not cover them and let them fester. Love deliberately looks for the beauty in another, and simultaneously seeks to help the other see their inherent capabilities and strengths. It asks one to grow up and into who they truly are.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Triggered? Don’t run. Embrace it. Sit with it. At least until you understand why. Don’t worry, Love sits with you. And she wants to. She understands healing is the cost of peace.<span> </span></p><p><br> </p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/71821842023-03-31T20:03:49-06:002023-04-02T17:22:11-06:00No Way Around But Through<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/286675/298f42a137da9a4bc274cd26c3577485e6778556/original/no-way-around-but-through.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p> </p><p>There is no way around, but through.<span> </span></p><p>There isn’t.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>There is no bypass to the process of healing.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I grew up in a culture that begged God to heal things that needed counselling to sort out. It asked God to move and change circumstances so we could be comfortable, or even protected from situations we had created. We held meetings to beg for divine intervention in surgical procedures, marriages that were on the rocks, kids who went awry… We begged for revival, behavioural changes, miracles.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>And we never asked people what happened to them. We didn’t address abuse, provide a safe haven for those wounded by people in authority over them. We made the rough feel unwelcome. We created social groups for ourselves and discouraged interaction with the rest of the community unless it was for the specific motivation of evangelism.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>We didn’t even know each other’s struggles. Emotional connection was carefully guarded for the sake of spiritual purity. We didn’t want to be sullied by the world. Considering the depth of connection Jesus revealed in his ministry, I wonder if the religious disconnect isn’t the essence of being sullied. It definitely negates oneness and intrinsic inclusion in the whole, as sustained by the Breath and Being of God.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I’m not the only person who followed Love out of this structure and began to look at life and scripture from a different perspective. Some have seen God in science, mediation, affirmations, fields the churches they left consider new age, or witchcraft. I’ve heard people preach on the Bible from the perspective of symbolism, quantum science, it’s parallel references to other religious texts. There are so many templates to impose on spirituality, so many external “methods” and view points, lenses through which we can assess not only scripture, but also life itself. So often, rather than learning to listen to our own internal resonance, and choosing connection, we try and find something else that someone else has tried, and then apply it to ourselves, flummoxed when their steps don’t work for us.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Religious life teaches us that there are prescribed ways. I can remember when I first encountered grace theology, I was in a women’s bible study group that was based on finding our identity in Christ as bible believing Christians. The teacher developed a curriculum that encouraged living out of secure identity, and trusting God, rather than a system, to sustain us. It even went so far as to suggest that for God, resting in being his child was enough “doing” and one might just “be.” It sounded good, but to a room full of women who had been attacking their spirituality with an hour a day of devotions, regular prayer meetings, church on Sunday, and bible study during the week, with the potential augmentation of an accountability partner, this felt like mayhem. One woman even said “But how do I do that? What is the formula?” She, as did many of those in the room, found it disconcerting when the answer was that there is no formula.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>So imagine then, one who grew up in the box, moving outside the box, trauma and difficult experiences in tow as they try and “deconstruct” their “faith” and then build a life in this unsrtuctured world. It is mayhem. They still want to experience spiritual connection, but without church and her peripheral social garments, they look for a practise, a habit, an approach. I think that’s why we gravitate towards gurus, attend conferences, read self help books, and find someone to follow. It is comfortable to adopt an external structure, follow a plan.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>But unless we are looking for something that hums in tandem with our own internal resonance, it might as well be religion. And the difficulty with that? It often leaves us feeling defeated and left out of the group, just like we did at church. Why? Because that person knows how they healed. They know how they came to grips with their spirituality, they know what mended their heart… but they don’t know you.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I have had people ask me to teach them how to heal. What can I take? What habit can I form? Which emotions can I address? What prayer can I pray? What Affirmations will make the lies go away? Rub my feet and make the pain stop.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>No.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I did not begin to heal on deep level until I learned to have my own internal discourse. Can I point you there? Yes. Jesus did that as well. He let those who wanted to follow him know that the Kingdom of God was within them. He showed them compassion. Asked them to love themselves. He addressed their self destructive behaviour while pointing to the experiences they had gone through as if they mattered. He understood that there is no way but THROUGH. If you think about all the mindsets he addressed in his relatively short ministry… belief that what your parents or culture believed could define your personal wellness, belief that mental illness was borne of something outside you, oppressing you. Belief that they way one person interpreted scripture could define the sanctity of your soul… that where you are born could define your worthiness. The list is actually quite long. One might even say it is exhausting in it’s inclusivity of the human condition under the dictates of religion.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Reciting Mantras. Looking for good vibes. Controlling breathing. Managing anger, anxiety, diet, thoughts. Adopting strategies for overcoming addiction or insecurity. Understanding cognitively that that there is a relationship between thoughts and manifestation. Systems of self medication, but not, healing. These are, if you will, the way around our individual trauma, but not the way through. Are they tools? Yes. But much the same way in which bloodwork helps a physician make a diagnosis. If these systems fail to bring us into alignment, we feel like we are somehow unhealable. However, if our doctor ran tests and found out our hormones were imbalanced, or we had a nutritional deficiency, or inflammation or disease, would we assess our diagnosis as a reflection on our ability to be well? No. Diagnostic tools allow us to find out where we are unbalanced so that we can work on balancing ourselves out.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>If I am using a tool to cope with my anxiety, and I cannot make it disappear, I have learned that something under the surface is driving it. This is not something to hide in shame. It is the body bringing a wound to the light to be healed. I don’t need to embrace another method of coping, I need to Love the person having the experience — myself. I need to learn to hear her voice at whatever age and stage I was when I lost secure connection and mistook my identity for a role I was expected to play, and give voice to the violation. I need to learn to listen not just to my own voice, but the the voice of my Source in that space, who always remembers what is true. There is no method that I can apply, no matter how religiously I may chase it, to deal with the blocks to my own internal resonance and integration so that I am in perfect control of my life or my contribution to the life of others. However, I can use my reactions, cognitive and visceral, and apply my intuition to help myself through the process of healing.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>The journeys of others are useful to us because they give us tools and diagnostic instruments. We are enlightened and made aware of knowledge that exists in the collective consciousness of the universe because someone put the effort into expressing what they learned. We can make a religion — a formula for life — out of any discipline or system. If it worked for us, we can preach it with confidence and evangelistic fervour. And perhaps, we are right to do so, for our experience is valid and our own. But, if we cannot hear the voice of another who says “why does this not work for me” and approach them with compassion, allowing them to give honest expression to their experience, we cannot claim that our method will heal their disease, strictly because it worked for us.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>There is no way around, but through. Becoming an uninhibited, fully integrated person involves cultivating internal dialogue, listening to our own intuition, and developing harmonious resonance. Spirituality that rests isn’t found in a method or practice, but in communion with our Source, and choosing to love our neighbour as we love ourselves, with honesty and void of judgement. Authentic connection and secure intrinsic identity embraced without fear creates a space in which we can heal. And the path to that? It is as individual as the person walking it. We do not have to leave ourselves behind and abandon our experiences to wholly embrace our spiritual essence. That is not holistic integration, it is spiritual bypass. True spirituality holds space for the person who went through experiences that accompanied us on our journey. It is Love that embraces the person, and understands that the only way around the pain that seems to stymie growth, is through.<span> </span></p><p><br> </p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/71720822023-03-15T12:26:34-06:002023-03-15T12:26:34-06:00the shadow room<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/286675/cbe2f0bdcaab474e5441581b97d31dcb9390ef37/original/melissa-rempel.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p> </p><p>It’s dark, and you’re little. You have to pee in the middle of the night. You can’t stay in bed, you have to go down the hall past that door and what looms behind it. The moon is shining in the windows, creating shadows, and filtering through the trees outside so that it looks like these ambiguous shapes are moving. Curtains flutter in the breeze. It’s terrifying. And then you turn on the light, and you see blinds, and a chair, a houseplant. Your heart stops pounding long enough for you to hear the wind rustle through the leaves of the trees. You note the breeze flowing through the screen of the open window. The darkness is only terrifying until the lights turn on.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>A few people, lately, have expressed that they have hit a wall in their healing process. This can feel like a lack of courage to face what is behind the door of a memory room in which the mind has suppressed the details of an early childhood experience. It isn’t really a lack of courage. It is more that the part of our being protecting that door is a really young child who remembers only the feeling as it coursed through the body, but couldn’t articulate the event and frame the significance of it. Whatever age you were when the moment took place is the age your inner child is as they guard that door. You don’t lack the courage to open it, look at all of the things you have accomplished in your life — chances are you are better at unobstructed authenticity and connection than your parents were with you, if you have children you are most likely a better parent, you are probably successful at work, and engaged in adult relationships that last. Courage is not your problem. That door is just guarded by someone who doesn’t feel safe and has developed to protect you from the unprocessed experience and resulting trauma.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>So, turn the light on. You are capable of parenting your own inner child. You know what you needed when you were small. You know what would have made you feel safe and connected. You know what you would say to a child in your care if they told you about that experience. You know how to validate the emotions of a person who feels violated, scared, abused, or disconnected. Other parts of you have grown up around this one emotion that seems frozen in time. If it seems far too big and you don’t want to open the door and turn on the lights in the shadow room alone, take someone with you. Find a friend, a therapist, a spouse, who will go down memory lane with you and affirm that you are safe. If you have found that relationship that makes you safe enough to even notice the room exists, chances are they can help you use the courage you already have to illuminate the shadows and process the events.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Your inner child is not doing this alone. All of the growing you have done, all of the interaction you have had with the world as you have grown up, all of the internal work you have already done, all of these things give you the context you need to see the experience and those involved for what and who they are. If someone hurt you because they were wounded, the same eyes of compassion you are learning to use on yourself will be with you as you look at the event, and it will help you to experience closure. It may feel like cleaning out a wound that has been festering forever, but things tend to stay raw until they are properly cleaned and bandaged so they can heal.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>You don’t lack courage. I also don’t think that we forget our suppressed memories. I don’t remember details of every event, but I have found that the path the emotion took through the tissues of my body can often help me see enough to process both the circumstances, and the resulting feelings and ingrained patterns that have become barriers to my adult growth. Love allows me to embrace little me and hold her hand until she comes into the light and realizes that she can rest -- we have made each other safe. Maturity has replaced the need for the unhealthy reflex.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Behind that door are shadows. But there are also answers to questions, and opportunities to heal old wounds. Turn on the light. You are safe.<span> </span></p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/71552062023-02-16T12:11:29-07:002023-02-16T12:11:29-07:00I Love YOU<img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/s:bzglfiles/u/286675/03fcc476c991202767b581319235a0844d254e3c/original/1.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><p> </p><p>I love you.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I LOVE you.</p><p> </p><p>I Love YOU.</p><p> </p><p>We just passed Valentine’s day. Which also happens to be the anniversary of my Love and I. Three years have passed. I think I’ve gotten younger. I laugh more, play more, live more, dance more, walk more, embrace the sun more, sleep more, hug more, kiss more…. Life itself has become moreish in it’s timeless quality.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I used to think that love meant compromise, sacrifice, that it was a bit of a toss up. The feeling is passing. There is no fear in Love, not if I am open to being loved. No loss in Love, only gain. Is there a balance one has to find? Absolutely. But that, I think, is the meaning of life. We worry about losing ourselves, until we find out who we actually are. We worry about losing our connection, until we find the Source of all connects us indelibly. We worry about having to give up a piece of ourselves we are attached to, until we find a person who is as attached to those parts as we are, and truly desires to see us thrive (well, two people, really, ourselves and those external someones).<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>True Love is both knowing and growing. If it chooses blindness and stagnancy, it looses it’s lustre quite quickly. It is not afraid of conflict… like a good stretch, it leans into the tension until it finds release. Not because it enjoys suffering, but because it seeks to relieve it. Land mines are only dangerous until they are diffused. So it is with our past experiences, and the rough bits we adopt to cope with the pain of them. I recently had a friend remind me that it wouldn’t matter who we chose to be with, those things would have to be dealt with. Pain is not equatable with being hurt. Does it hurt because of what they said, or because of what already believe about myself? Chances are, if we’ve reached adulthood, its the latter. Good relationships both expose our wounds and provide the safety to heal from them. If your Love behaves out of character, stay open, you may be surprised at what it does for your intimacy levels.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Anyone can say “I love you.” Words are easy.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Anyone can claim “I LOVE you.” It is easy to love to love and make it about yourself and what you can give without sacrifice.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>But the one who declares “I love YOU,” is the one to stay with. They have seen you. They have chosen to know you. They have deliberately looked past the parts of your personality that are adaptations and learned behaviours which have bandaged the wounds of trauma. And when things get difficult as their love begins to make you feel safe enough to heal from those wounds, they stay.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>I have the love of one who has said, “I love YOU.” I have returned this love in like kind. And together, we have created a home, not just for our bodies, but also for our deepest being. It is a place to unwrap our experiences and give them air, and time. We are both healing. Even our conflict, like that good stretch is useful. It is a deeper learning, and we come out stronger and more aware. The need we have to be alone from time to time is increasingly less offensive. Introspection is necessary when we unpredictably bubble into anger, because it is generally our past insecurities that need an internal conversation and a reminder that we are safe. <span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Love the YOU in your life. Know them well. Embrace them whole heartedly. By your presence in their space, help them desire more living. Happy tends to feed happy. Give your love a steady diet of a you who does the internal work of loving yourself so you can be the safe space for them. It’s a beautiful place to be in, is Love.<span> </span></p><p> </p><p>Let your “I love you,” be, an “I love YOU.”</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/71236682022-12-15T16:41:32-07:002023-02-02T20:48:07-07:00One is Never One<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/b90b48b459bc250b1f8ec687d5acebf98e003926/original/4cb15618-2c99-4944-bb56-f4d4664c18a2.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I got ready for work in an empty house this morning. I drank my coffee and ate my breakfast while it was still hot. I showered and dressed without anyone calling my name. I ordered my moments, chose my music, made my lunch, looked out the window and watched the snow fall, sang harmony to some tunes, and left the house on time. I was so relaxed that the layer of ice on my vehicle didn’t phase me, I just started it and embraced the scraper. I’ve missed myself of late. Have you ever felt that deep longing for only having you in your immediate sphere? Alone. The idyllic impossibility of the life of a hermit seems the very pinnacle of existence when we feel disjointed. The practical reality of it would solve so many things, would it not? </p>
<p>I didn’t breathe last month. O, there was in and out. But, <em>I didn’t breathe last month</em>. It took four days of being off to find the place where my inhale and my exhale became my own again. Have you had that kind of a month? It was practically necessary, I enjoyed most of it, but <em>I</em> was missing. There is a weariness in that sort of perpetual doing that weighs on the soul. Existence, my friend, is not Life. </p>
<p>So, what then is the meaning of the breath? Why is “busy” so internally alienating? What causes the disconnect? The “I do” has a way of replacing the “I am” which is detrimental to the intrinsic oneness of the spiritual person. “I do, because I can,” replaces “I express, because I am.” The whole experience leaves one breathless. The wind gets knocked out of us in the process of forgetting that the sum total of our identity is not in the measurable quota of our output, but rather our state of being in the process. </p>
<p>I’ve been lost in the roles of life much in my journey. Daughter, friend, mother, wife, worshipper, caregiver, housekeeper, cook, gardener, pianist, employee, saleswoman, even my vocation of reflexologist has external expectations attached to it. All of these roles come with rules, written and unwritten, conduct codes, boundaries. I have to keep myself in check, so they are done properly, within the parameters of the relationship I have with the others in the sphere of their influence. I can say some things, but I cannot speak all the things I hear and see. </p>
<p>I think that’s why I get so lost when I am tangibly perpetually occupied with “the things” I do. The inner discourse that should be free to flow into the realm of creativity or meditation is, instead, told to “hush.” Rather than having my mind and emotions actively listening to Spirit, I am severed, caught in my head space. I arrange rather than feel my way through the day. It is not only disruptive in my inner being, but everyone I touch can feel the chill. Others become people to manage, rather than spirits interacting with mine. My discourse tends to push them away instead of bring them near. Tears are near the surface. Outbursts of emotion coming from others around me feel directed at me. There is an ongoing sense of being overwhelmed. If one looked in and watched, I am sure they would see little things that should not have toppled the tower of strength, obliterate it with a tiny breeze. To me it felt like a monsoon. But I wasn’t breathing… </p>
<p>Maturity, I think, is realizing this disconnection and changing both mindset and circumstances in favour of connection. We think there is no time. But time can exist in the space of any activity that is mundane or quiet. Connection can happen in any space where another being is in earshot. Depth of conversation is a choice. Making a friend is a choice. Feeling the vibe of a stranger and responding with compassion is a choice. Hugging your children with both arms, kissing your Lover, pausing to pet a dog or a cat. Tasting your food. These things all bring us into the present. Saying “I love you” requires breath control. Awareness. Noticing Colour, Smells, Texture. Feeling the air… is it dry, crisp, icy, warm, wet? </p>
<p>Possibly, we see the things we cannot grasp in the moment as disciplines, habits we need to form, spiritual practices. Games done entirely alone. It is true. It is easier alone. However, being with people is more pleasant when one is not wishing them away. Conflict doesn’t resolve, miscommunication isn’t solved, peace doesn’t suddenly arrive because one walks away from the tension. Tension tends to follow, if not in the mind, somewhere in the body. There is really only one avenue for resolution of discord… deliberately remain present until it is worked out. If the person won’t do it with you, it has to be done on your own. The internal conversation looks different, because you end up asking yourself questions about why you feel that way, or how that person gets under your skin. You may end up unearthing the source of a trigger, or a place of unrest with that introspection. </p>
<p>One thing is very true; if you have to escape the people in order to find any peace, you aren’t coping. They are not the reason you are disconnected internally. Goodness, I would have loved to blame my family. It wouldn’t have been me that ignored my breath. I could have validated every emotional outburst, even request for space, or instantaneous cooperation. “Busy” did not bring about the severance of soul expression and replace it with a “doing.” I did that because I believed I had to put myself on the shelf in order to meet the needs of others. And then I resented the others because they kept me from myself. My need for connection is greater than having everyone around me satisfied (they never were). Because I put myself on the shelf, I also put knowing <em>them</em> on the shelf. Practically caring for the physical needs of someone is not the same as cultivating relationships. We cannot be more connected to those around us than we are willing to be with ourselves. </p>
<p>So breathe. Be intentionally aware. Feel the water when you do the dishes, notice the smell of clean when you scrub a toilet, feel the rhythm when you vacuum. Deliberately listen for the pop and sizzle when you fry an egg. Smell the toast in the toaster. Look at your clients when you go to work. Listen to your kids tell you the story… not for the story, but for the connection. Put the phone down when your spouse opens their mouth - if you get distracted by them, let it be because you saw their eyes, or the curve of their lip when they smiled. Internal connection is not achieved by shutting out the world. Meditation can be a deliberate breath with closed eyes in the middle of a chaotic moment. </p>
<p>I didn’t breathe for a month. Not because my schedule was busy, but because the list in my mind had the heading “Things I have to do” above it. If I had allowed even a few of them to ground me, everything would have been part of the flow instead of a hindrance to it. If I had allowed the family parts of my day to include even a minute of the pleasure of knowing and being known, I wouldn’t have been so annoyed by the interruptions in my schedule that the needs of my humans caused. The Love and Beauty in Life would have had a chance to speak. But I saw things instead of life. And I forgot that breath is carried with me, it comes from within, and every exhale is a potential expression of endlessly connected motion and creativity, and every inhale a reminder that I am not an island. I am a part of the whole. I always have been. That is the meaning of breath… connection. Breathe in to engage myself in all that is, with deliberate action, and breathe out to exercise the intrinsic manner in which I contribute to all that is. Not alone, even in this solitary action. One is never One. That is the meaning of the breath.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/70887682022-10-25T21:47:27-06:002022-10-25T21:47:27-06:00I'll Give You That<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/212a0acbfa998c7988bd0f3a75c2e92d25a2434b/original/85f242da-fb01-4b93-8454-5174ec183d74.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p><strong><em>I'll Give You That</em></strong></p>
<p><em>If by Sovereign you mean </em></p>
<p><em>All things are woven together </em></p>
<p><em>To form something beautiful </em></p>
<p><em>By the end of the story… </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>That Sense will come of Chaos </em></p>
<p><em>And something from nothing </em></p>
<p><em>Invisible made visible </em></p>
<p><em>By the end of the story… </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>If by Sovereign you mean </em></p>
<p><em>The end result is more anticipated </em></p>
<p><em>Than dictated and immovable, seen </em></p>
<p><em>By the end of the story… </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Then I’ll give you that. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>But if you’re going to say </em></p>
<p><em>in that fatalistic way </em></p>
<p><em>That the choices are all made </em></p>
<p><em>And there’s no blooming chance </em></p>
<p><em>To choose dance or no dance. </em></p>
<p><em>Then I’ll take it back. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>The Sovereignty of the One </em></p>
<p><em>In whom all breathe and are imagined </em></p>
<p><em>Is the sort that plans on Love and Love Alone. </em></p>
<p><em>The thing is, with that first breath </em></p>
<p><em>Came a place in all creation </em></p>
<p><em>Stamped upon our chest </em></p>
<p><em>Image and Design to Sovereignty incline. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>And so… </em></p>
<p><em>My person </em></p>
<p><em>Island and Communal Flow </em></p>
<p><em>Are both immersed in one </em></p>
<p><em>And on their own. </em></p>
<p><em>Sovereign as I Am - </em></p>
<p><em>I am Sovereign </em></p>
<p><em>At the beginning </em></p>
<p><em>And at the end of the story. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>I’ll give you that. </em></p>
<p>Where I live, snow doesn’t stay. It falls wet and heavy and melts. I think my favourite part of spring and fall storms is the the steady “drip, drip, drip” I hear for days after. The forest was alive with this sound last time I was there and I became enamoured with the water drops. Something usually captures my attention, and the phone came out, camera ready. I missed a lot. I caught something, but it took a consistent shot in the dark to catch the light. Why? Because you can’t control a drip. Water always obeys a million invisible factors in her flow. She runs on Nature’s timetable. They dance, I spectate, but I am drawn in to the intimacy of a moment I am invited to share. If I wait until the water drop has formed, I can’t catch it. I have to be present, I have to set the focus, get in position, and take the shot, repeatedly, sometimes catching nothing, or I will get nothing. But I want to catch that moment before Water and Gravity conspire to make the sound of the drip-drop. I want to see the world reflected in that tiny orb, and so, I make myself still. And trigger happy. Participation carries its own reward, and I capture the drop. I was not in control of Nature, she has her own rhythm, however, I owned my part in the process. I exercised Sovereignty. </p>
<p>I was brought up believing that God was in complete control. I built my life, my sense of safety, my hurt and pain, my joy and triumph under that banner. I was scared. I worshipped anyway. I considered all my trials joy… for were they not of God? Friendships fragmented, work critiqued by insecure people, outlets for contribution based on marital status or gender, roles taken up or put down according to the needs of a group… and that was just me. There was pain, the putting away of my intrinsic being, the god I heard, vs. the god they heard. Then the worldview took on the World, and her unrest. Wars, famine, natural disasters, accidents, disease, things that were clearly broken, and if administered by a sovereign hand, it was a cruel one. But he gives and takes away, not so? </p>
<p>He does, but not, I think, in the way I was taught to think. He gave his Mind and Spirit to humanity. Not so we would wield great power to our advantage, but, rather that we could see clearly and act wisely. In Love. He gives wisdom. He takes foolishness. Control and manipulation are set aside in favour of the participatory creativity of bringing endless possibility into manifest reality. I think this misunderstanding of sovereignty is actually one of the reasons suffering, pain and trauma are rampant in the history of the Race of Man. We surrender our personal autonomy too easily hoping the compromise will bring about our salvation, or our martyrdom, the salvation of another. </p>
<p>If God is sovereign as I was raised to believe… I am Rapunzel in a tower, awaiting freedom in the perfect moment: the place where my desire and his timing intersect. I am truly a damsel in perpetual helpless distress. However, should his Sovereignty be a component of that fullness which in me dwells… I am already saved. I am already able. I have the ability to create my own escape route. I have the power of thought. The resource of true imagination. I am divinely sovereign, and consequently, responsible for that in which I choose passivity over assertion. I cannot wait for the entire path to become clear before I use the light I now possess. I cannot wait for morning in all things, some journeys begin at the behest of the moon, rather than the sun. </p>
<p>I will not capture that which I desire if my waiting is done with the means safely tucked in my pocket. </p>
<p><em>Sovereign as I Am - </em></p>
<p><em>I am Sovereign </em></p>
<p><em>At the beginning </em></p>
<p><em>And at the end of the story.</em></p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/70745802022-10-04T17:22:23-06:002022-10-08T05:58:55-06:00Fall Without Fear<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/af9ca90ebe00763ab5be3385a725124b4ca2a6c5/original/8ed9ad43-3b84-4635-9e29-1632cad230bb.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I’m not sure why Fall and I are not getting along this year. I can take her photo, but I always seem to want to focus on where the Sun is, or the striking colour of yellow leaves against the sky, or the specific vibrancy of the deep red in a leaf. I can go there. Into the space of the moment… but the season In general? With her, I am at odds. </p>
<p>Perhaps it isn’t her fault. Not really, anyway. It could just be that I am not ready for the months of comparable hibernation that contrasts the perpetual light and possibility of spring and summer. I have felt, of late, that my life is finally beginning. As if the child in me that never found her voice has emerged and has me searching for the wonder and beauty that is “just over there.” Little by little she is venturing out of the cages built for my safety and discovering how safe it is beyond them. </p>
<p>I was made for Summer. Her heat, passion, buzz… the magical shades of all the flowers, the dance of bees, the sweetness of berries, the Life and Joy of her thunder showers. I was made for the communal vibe of the full potential of Summer’s glow. </p>
<p>And yet… I discovered this in the middle of the Winter of the Soul. In the Stillness. In the pregnant pause of last Fall… in the short, dark days of December. So is it the season, or do I just not trust the soul state? </p>
<p>I’ve let that marinate a bit this morning. Danced with the unease of tiny me, and unpacked her suitcase. Usually the internal tension is a bit of an unfinished conversation with the little girl inside who doesn’t know how to move forward. She knows only the tenuous tightrope of change. </p>
<p>I think it is simple… I grew in summer this year. I embraced it. My heart kept time with spring as it moved into the fruitful season of abundance, and she wasn’t convinced the darkness of winter wouldn’t make the illusion implode. She didn’t trust my change to be change. I think, she mistook the season for a chinook wind. But it isn’t. </p>
<p>I am safe. Well. At peace. I do find joy in the little things. I am beautifully held by Love, immersed in abundance. I am ready for my tomorrows to arrive in today. They are not surprises. They are not something to fear. They are the realm of infinite possibility. </p>
<p>Fall is giving way to Winter. She always does. It is her way. But it is happy surrender, because she knows that the vibrant joy of her gold, red and purple is a passion that spills into the starry night sky of late November. It does not sleep. Rather, she nurtures in the stillness what cannot grown in the bustle of Summer’s productivity. Winter’s snowy blanket is the perfect canopy for relationships to develop intimacy in conversation. Light dances in the short hours of the Christmas season, over the ice and snow, in a brilliance that we could not endure for the long hours of Spring… for we would be over exposed. Love needs rest in order to heal the deep parts of our being. </p>
<p>So, Fall, stay a bit. I need you. I need to enjoy the transition. I need to watch you colour the season of my soul into deep, memorable impressions of peace that will carry her through the stillness as she prepares for Spring’s return in the wake of Winter’s light. I need to hear you crunch under my feet, smell you as you expose the strength in the leaves, and see the fruit of your nurture come to fullness before the snow covers the evidence. We are both in this moment. So I will stay here as long as you linger, and be present. And the little girl inside? She can peek out of the shadows and breathe, and know, that we are ok. Seasons change, but the lessons learned in them stay. Trees do not begin each subsequent year from a seed. They pick up where they left off, using the rest to fuel the next stage of life. What they produce in each summer is a gift for that moment in time. It doesn’t need to be retrieved from the earth in spring, it is consumed in season by those nourished by it. Each year, they produce fruit that remains, and each year there is an increase in the abundance of it. But, not, without the season of rest. </p>
<p>And into the world, go I… to listen to Fall without the fear.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/70498342022-08-30T22:08:10-06:002022-08-31T04:32:04-06:00the One Whose Dream We Are <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/3e2454ba861be7ffa18f2a35e8f6de102f33c279/original/16a75be7-81e0-4bf7-a8ee-d61ef873e8d0.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Stop beating yourself up. It isn’t that you aren’t trying. It isn’t that you don’t believe. It isn’t that you can’t meditate. It isn’t that the affirmations don’t work. It isn’t that God doesn’t hear. It isn’t that the Universe is not friendly. It is also not that you aren’t doing it right. You can be doing everything perfectly… as though you had a recipe, a formula, a program. But it can still fail to “fix” you, even though it worked for “everyone else.” It didn’t actually, you know. It’s just that they were at a different point in their journey when they found that remedy and they were ready. Sometimes the inner child that felt unsafe just can’t sit down and “be,” and all that inner chatter or agitation, or the physical symptoms are that tiny person asking to be made safe. </p>
<p>Healing is intentionally bringing to our awareness the intersection of our life experience and intrinsic identity. It is understanding that our <em>being </em>cannot be undone by the <em>doings</em> of life. Most self help books, medical or mental health treatments, and even many holistic approaches attempt to move you from where you are now to where you want to go without addressing the past. However, your present dysfunction has its roots in your past. The way your family thinks, the culture you grew up in, traumatic events that happened to you, even in the womb. When your life is deeply spiritual and connected, but you still struggle with your health, anxiety levels, random crashes or burnout, there’s a tendency to think that all of your enlightenment is counterfeit and nothing is true. This can create a bit of despondency and detachment. </p>
<p>I’ve heard a few people comment that they feel that they are completely alone. If they are one to pray or meditate they feel that even God is quiet. The isolation felt in this space can make it feel like the world is caving in, and you might not make it. If you happen to be going through a reevaluation of what is true, real, or imagined in your core beliefs at the time, it can be rather chaotic. Here’s the thing: God <em>is </em>quiet. The Universe <em>is</em> peaceful. The cacophony of our own agitation obliterates the harmony of the intrinsic vibration. We often cannot use the learned behaviours of our religious culture to connect to peace because they are based on the idea of an external Saviour, or ideological prophet, or even the ways of a guru. Someone we have to go and seek. Our Source is woven into our make up, the depth of our Being. God is in a place few of us go, <em>within</em>. </p>
<p>I think a perfect illustration of this is Elijah’s experience with God in 1 Kings 19. Elijah is agitated because it looks like the world is after him. God tells him to go to the Mountain, and wait for Him. So he does. He experiences gale force winds, strong enough to move rocks; no God. He experiences and earthquake, a fire, both cataclysmic events which one might expect an All Powerful Being to show up in. Nothing… and then, a small sound, a gentle sound, and there He is. Elijah expected God to show up in a blaze of glory, but he got a whisper. If he hadn’t been quiet, he would have missed it. And at the end of the story, God sends him back prepared to be present and fulfill his purpose. </p>
<p>So, if our heads are busy, life is chaos, and we feel hemmed in on all sides by impending disaster, anxiety and the physical manifestation of it dictating how well we can cope with our present, and we cannot get quiet enough to hear the whisper, what then? Look where the noise is coming from, because if it isn’t God making it, it’s quite likely that it is your inner child having a temper tantrum because they’re feeling ‘not safe, not safe at all’ and they really need attention. </p>
<p>So, how to make that wee one safe enough that the past doesn’t intrude on the possibilities in your present? It seems so simple, but one can learn to self parent. Essentially, you sit down with yourself. I prefer to do this in the lap of Father, or Love… however it is your heart sees the Divine, or that which is bigger than you. When I dismantled the structured theology I grew up in and found how very inseparable I am from the One I call Father, this process became simple. I existed in that creative imagination before I appeared in a physical body, therefore, we remember together who I was before my life intersected with the other humans that were part of my early indoctrination. Essentially, God knows what seemed to have shattered in order to skew my worldview and break down the relationship between me and my Source. And, I, I have learned some things on the road to adulthood, in the process of parenting my own children, and unpacking my trauma. I have learned that I know what that little child inside needed to hear, feel, see, express or understand, and I can help her move the stories she keeps replaying from the current reel into the archives. I can let her know that she is safe, and held, and that those things are no longer able to tear at her soul, she doesn’t have to protect either emotions or spirit any longer. Lots of grown ups might have done, said, modelled or inflicted painful things on that little person, and they did the best they could. Admittedly, for many of us, the experiences are in areas that are neglectful or abusive and it is difficult to see the broken behaviour of those adults who should have loved us as the result of the wounded children they are, or were. It’s also difficult to understand the impact of our family history or culture on the genetic markers in our physiology (some ailments or syndromes do run in families, but, not, I think, because they are unavoidably genetic). </p>
<p>Let yourself heal from the trauma, and you may find that many of your internal conflicts, agitation, interpersonal frustrations, or just general lack of peace might dissipate. You may just find that your mind is quiet for the first time in your life, and you are able to enjoy just “being.” So many of us have an underlying belief that we are wrong, not enough, or even unable to belong because no one really saw us as a kid. But we were not only seen, we were known well, and we still are. </p>
<p>We are whole. We always have been whole. It is possible to be fully integrated so that all of our perceivably fragmented selves are working in peaceful tandem. We need our inner child… for there is our connection to wonder, delight, unwavering hope, newness, essentially the dawn of new ventures is energetically seated in their need to explore. Dreams and passions were planted in the fertile ground of our uninhibited child heart, they are explored and developed into skills and real potential as we mature. If we meander too far away from who we were in the imagination of the Maker, our life pursuits often do not serve us well long term, because we burn out or make inauthentic choices. </p>
<p>And if we forgot who we were and are desperately trying to find out retroactively? We can. Our history is written on our Soul by Spirit. Our Soul is a great weaver, able to connect past, present, and future, weaving the intrinsic identity of spirit and the experience into the perfect healing journey so that we can live our most beautiful existence in tandem with our Source, free of inhibition. Our being cannot be undone by the doings of life. The Depth of who we are, just Is. Sometimes the journey of discovery into our intrinsic identity just needs a little facilitating so we can imagine alongside the One whose Dream We Are, and see things come to be. </p>
<p><em>P.S. If you’re interested in learning how to have conversations with “little you,” It is possible to do it. There isn’t a blanket “method” so I didn’t include “steps.” However, I have been known to have conversations that have proved helpful with some who have reached out.</em></p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/70473592022-08-27T09:25:21-06:002022-08-29T10:38:56-06:00One is not the Other<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/b47ed6560f1185328cc9c392f43812aed5e20b63/original/2d6ea1c4-d149-4e98-9477-2a4e5ac2f7ed.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I don’t know anyone who revels in their sin. Honestly… I see human beings trying desperately to self medicate trauma, injury, emptiness, pain, religious indoctrination, loneliness, misunderstood identity, fear, and isolation. Don’t mistake the wounded for the evil. For one is not the other. </p>
<p>Human beings were built for inclusive community. We were built for Love to manifest among us… radiate uninhibited through us. We were designed for connection, relationship, knowing, being known, operating out of our strengths to bouey up a brother with weaknesses in the area of our natural aptitude. Independence was never in the mind of the One who is One. Self sufficiency was never in the natural order of things. There is not a creature on earth that would survive outside a family, an ecosystem, an atmosphere. When one of these is decimated, it creates a need to adapt and operate outside of the inherent design for every creature. We don’t judge an animal for trying a new food supply, or migrating outside the habitat they were born into. We stand up and applaud when we find a species we thought were extinct that found a way to survive in a different corner of the wild. </p>
<p>But our fellow man… the one who looks for sustenance, love, basic needs, shelter… and goes about it on a road less travelled, or by and large, avoided? This uniquely designed person bears the full weight of judgement, both religious and societal. Moreover, we seem to think it is our right to use them as the scapegoat for our own infirmities. O, Race of Man, are we really that insecure, that things must ever be labelled and boxed and categorized? </p>
<p>I have moved among the masses little in comparison to many, but even I have yet to meet a soul that behaves in a way that their past is independent of. All human behaviour is based on one’s level of personal security in a given moment. If we feel unloved, we behave as one unlovely. If we fear scarcity, ostracization, elimination, invisibility, abandonment, loss, hunger, lack of any kind, we behave in dishonest, unkind, selfish ways. We all present poorly when our fears drive us. </p>
<p>But, Love, in whom there is no fear to be found, brings about Life, in which no error binds us, and no internal belief has the right to hold us in a poor pattern. There is freedom to function beautifully in community within the open lap of Love. There is no need to manipulate a situation for our own gain if the belief is that there is enough for all, including us. Society has tried to mitigate this mindset with laws, social programs, social justice movements, human rights, and charity. Religion has tried to equalize us all by belief alone… usually beginning at the assumption that we are all equally evil and requiring redemption of the most drastic measure. Neither option avails the human of the intrinsic worth that prevents misdirected mindsets. Only deep connection can do that. Only Love. </p>
<p>Within Love is abundance, hope, possibility, intrinsic worth, understanding, beauty, connection, clear vision. Love is honest, and incapable of seeking harm, for others, or for self. It is also empty of judgement. This amazes me, because I grew up in a culture that confused discernment with judgement, and called it protection. One assesses, the other labels in permanent ink. It assumes that duality, or separation of good from evil is a necessary component of a holy, or spiritual life. The idea that choices can be made out of emotion… or that wounds might skew decision making capabilities doesn’t really enter the discussion. One simply appears capable of following the “good” rules, or seems to selfishly tread after the “evil” pursuits. </p>
<p>Of course, rather than the Healing that Love would bring the person who is protecting their wounds, the assumption is made that one must engage in repentance and put their life “right.” But they can’t. If one is truly out of order in the exercise of life in community, it is safe to perceive that they may not have the tools to be good. No amount of being sorry can change their hearts or renew their mind. It cannot draw them up. Make them stand with confidence or view another through a lens well lit with well understood identity. Showing a person the error of their ways cannot bring about change. It can, however, make them feel depressed, defeated, uncared for, unseen, and unloved. Which, if I recall from my own bouts with the admonishment to search my own heart for wickedness at regular intervals in my early life, often leads to a secret life of all the things one feels guilty about, and a public denial of their presence. </p>
<p>But repentance, which is a change of mind cannot be wallowed in, is not penance, which, however can become self flagellation. Defining ourselves by our list of iniquity, dishonours the being we are, imagined by our Maker. </p>
<p>The mantra of religion has long been the phrase “love the sinner, hate the sin.” It has been used to judge, label and categorize. It has been used as an excuse to avoid knowing our fellow human beings. Anything our brand of theology doesn’t want to touch can be excluded without interference from our conscience. It keeps us distant and aloof. </p>
<p>But my fellow oxygen breathers… if our theology prevents horizontal connection with our neighbours or our world, it requires assessment. If the god we serve gives us the right to judge the behaviour of another outside the context of their story, our beliefs need inspection more than that person needs our external opinion. What we think at the core of our being dictates our behaviour. If a human being is behaving in a way that is inhumane, to themselves, or someone else, it is not because they are abusing their “freedom.” I put it to you, that this is the outcome of not seeing oneself through the Lens of Love. They literally see no other way out of their turmoil, and providing a map or a step by step program isn’t the answer. What worked for you may not work for them, because experience has formed different neural pathways in their brain than you have in yours. You can hand someone a recipe to bake a cake, but if they’ve never seen an oven before, they’ll never bake it. You may have to bake it with them. You may have to be with someone. Listen, understand, work within their template. You may have to Love them. You may also have to let them tweak the recipe according to their taste. There are no life formulas, there is only life lived. </p>
<p>Don’t mistake the wounded for the evil. One is not the other. And you may find, that the one does not exist at all.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/69678562022-05-10T11:12:43-06:002022-08-27T09:22:35-06:00A Woman Had Two Children <p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/9443bfcd6aa1cd0d76ed72e979ec0eba3cf089e0/original/87d4f214-1313-4b85-b770-ae9088c98c02.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>A woman had two children. One, could so easily see Love in all her facets, imagine God in all His wonder, and embrace a personal, caring being. The other was wounded early, utterly rejects the “Father” heart of God on the basis of her own internal scarring, and cannot see, despite the looking. In the space of this is my conundrum of the idea of hell. It has everything to do with the Loving character of a creative designer who “fathers” us all, and the nature of the humans such Love is so enthralled with. The all knowing quality of such a One is also food for thought in this discussion. Divine Father/Mother rejecting a child and subjecting them to torture because their wounds will not let them see Love clearly, and they behave defensively? You realize that is eternal conscious torment in a nutshell, do you not? Bad parenting. </p>
<p>But perhaps we do not understand our own humanity? The anxiety, for example that causes a child to cry when left alone to “self-soothe,” the fear in the anger behind a temper tantrum. The broken security that causes a child to perpetually test the boundaries. Kids aren’t evil, or even selfish, they’re wondering if they are seen and heard. They’re wondering if they are worth our time. Our “discipline” is not built on teaching a child how to regulate their more obtuse and invasive emotions. It is built on feeding the fear that attachment and love are earned behaviours, not intrinsic needs, which should be filled automatically by someone secure enough to be unthreatened by our panic and fear. </p>
<p>Human beings long to be held, to feel the beating of another heart. We get our sense of “ok” from others, especially when we are young, because we feel more than we are able to articulately express. Kids spend their infancy reading the room. They spend toddlerhood exploring the contribution of words and intonation to emotional climate. They understand their niche and the validity with which they take up space by our inclusion of them… not our scheduling of them. I would wager a child knows by the age of two if the grownups around them want to hear them speak or not. </p>
<p>How is our spiritual, inner child any different? What creates safety for that beautiful darling? It isn’t the description of the doctrinal version of the eternity’s time out chair… off of which no one ever slides into the comforting hug of heaven. No, it is the realization that the time out chair is the Lap of Love. It is safety, peace, embrace, the place where our spirit realizes the connection to the One and we experience the fruit of such a bond. Humans have tried to come at Love from positional badness and “original sin” for long enough. Such a stance is over 2000 years past its expiry date. The person most quoted to support the notion of hell spoke more about the awareness of an intrinsic, unrestricted internal “kingdom of God” than anything else. He spoke about the need to take the time to nurture that connection until it becomes as breath to us. He even encouraged us to “read the room” of the spiritual. To be still, to get comfortable being there because it is home. Not because it should be, or can be, but because it is that place in which belonging IS reality. He said all of this was already true, and then he was crucified. If I was bowling down hell pins, that would be pins two and three. We are hardwired for spiritual connection, and the one who supposedly died to restore connection spoke enough about its intrinsic reality and its pre-existing tangible humanity, that the religious leaders conspired to have him killed because they were losing control of their people. </p>
<p>Recall that the first pin, the kingpin for me, is that believing in hell paints God as a very bad dad. Which, he cannot be, or it would render him utterly untrustworthy. </p>
<p>Pin four and Five? The two greatest commandments. Love: yourself, and, your neighbour as yourself. Jesus did not say convert. He never said convert. He never said preach conversion. He said LOVE. Turn first, inward, and learn to embrace the wonder of… yourself. Strange, one might have thought that it would be to look heavenward and grasp the placement in the universe based on the grovelling one might do that the feet of the Almighty. But no… Love yourself, is the greatest of two summative commandments. And then, the challenge, to love your neighbour as yourself. See both of you as Loved. Behave towards them as you do towards yourself when you are willing to value yourself as your Maker does. It’s a bit of a kick in the pants for our ideas of hell, if you ask me. Levels the spiritual playing field. Makes discipline always restorative, always just, because the thrust of it is no longer putting one in one’s place, but rather moving one towards self Love. </p>
<p>And the ball that fells them all? No fear in Love. If everything that is, as Colossians suggests, made and held together inside the being of God, and God is Love without end, then what place has fear in our life narrative? None. Our relationship with our Maker is meant to be the most freeing, empowering, unconditionally loving, healing, beautiful embrace of life we experience. It is meant to be that which connects us to each other and removes the “us and them,” for in Christ, is no jew, or greek, male or female, slave or free, but rather, One collective expression of God clearly looked for and seen by one unafraid people. Unthreatened people. People who looked for you and I, and found, rather, us. Shared value, shared suffering, and shared Love that heals. </p>
<p>A woman had two children. She still does. Though one finds belief easy, and the other insurmountably difficult. She fears for neither child. Not because she trusts the illusive “god out there” to make this right in his mysterious timing, but because it is right, and it has always been right. There has always been a plan for dealing with wounded humans who hurt each other… and call those perspectives and actions sin. The heart of Love reveals the intrinsic, irrevocable identity of the ones patterned after himself, who at the very core of their being are themselves, Love. When that is seen, fear is gone. Bowled down by secure being, belonging, and attachment. I’m human on wonderful purpose. So are you. Love your neighbour as yourself. A woman had two children, after all, and both of them are Loved.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/69542182022-04-21T21:12:37-06:002022-04-23T11:22:35-06:00Love, True Love<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/b11533b1da139e4164f06cab28472399ecc86472/original/d313e0c4-2809-4da2-95aa-366c2c0485e1.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I used to watch the sappy part of a movie and cry because I wanted to be loved like that. Now, I watch those parts and cry because I am so Loved. I guess I should clarify the “sappy part” because it isn’t the proposal, or the wedding that grips me, it’s the mundane exchange of Lovers written into the script. The part where she is given her favourite flowers, or he remembers the way she takes her coffee, or likes her eggs. The well placed quote from a book they shared, the allusion to a mutual memory. All of these things are such poignant moments for me, because Love that Stays is Knowing Love. It covers the full strata of the human being. It is the tangible expression of the Divine between two flesh and blood people. The unconditional acceptance is the vibrance of intentionally cultivated beauty. True Love works at knowing, and this fertilizes the growth of relationship. </p>
<p>It is interesting to note that Love does not begin with knowing the other other person, but rather, knowing oneself in the context of all Life. It’s easy to do a personality quiz… there’s a million available, and many of them are very effective tools for understanding what to pursue in life. Some move into love languages and relational styles, others workplace aptitudes. Knowing about myself is useful, but it is not the depth of understanding required to love another without inhibition. That seems to be inextricably related to our early experiences with other human beings, and belief, or reasonable lack thereof, in the Divine. The perception of failure to fulfill roles in relationships can have a very detrimental affect on the validation of the authentic self, despite the legitimacy of another’s claim of our offence. We usually do a rather harsh assessment of ourselves when there has been judgement or rejection that severed a valued connection. Unfortunately, this can also create a disconnect between spirit and emotions, via soul, and our true sense of identity can be buried in the sludge of unhealed wounds. </p>
<p>Much of my existence was connected to organized faith community, wherein I was taught to find my “all in Jesus” and not expect so much of the humans. Not in my family, not among my friends, not even in my marriage. It seems such a juxtaposition at my present place in the journey. On the one hand, God is love. On the other hand, the people who represent him are fallible, and expected to be so. But, Love is faithful, kind, good, long suffering, keeps no record of wrongs, rejoices in the truth, it is gentle and peaceful. Loving one’s neighbour as oneself is no blind love, it is a love that knows intimately and loves anyway. Why then, should the expectation be that love should bear no expectation of mutual care and support? </p>
<p>I think it’s trauma talking, trauma that sets such a low bar for relationship standards, and trauma that has the one with arms sending the one with pain to the Jesus who seems so illusive, except, perhaps in the field of support in martyrdom. If we expect nothing from anyone, we are protected from being hurt. But, consequently, we are lonely and isolated from community, even when our body moves through a crowd. Good soldiers in the same ranks should not require their sword and shield as they march together. If being bumped is enough to set us off, then we are wounded already, and require no external enemy to battle with. </p>
<p>I felt so at odds with humanity, such a lack of belonging, such an inadequacy. I knew not love, for not only did I keep a record of the wrongs done to me, but of my wrongs, chief among them, my inability to find my “all in Jesus.” How does one create meaningful connection with the tangible when the model relationship is with an external person who knows all your motivations better than you, and is believed to be all that stands between you and God’s judgement? Every thing that happened to me felt like deserved discipline, a divine learning experience. I wasn’t raised to believe in Karma, but I did, a rather immediate sort than brought impact within days or minutes of that thought, that failure to pray, that flaw in my character that didn’t allow me just to submit to another. I felt I deserved to be treated like the church of his day felt free to treat Jesus. Outcast, judged, square peg, round hole, and generally verbally flogged for questioning the traditional understanding of things. Funny though, the pharisaical attitude was purported by the very ones who preached to “follow Jesus.” Persecution was always spoken of as that which the “world” does to the “believer” but I did not find that to be so, it seemed to come when the human had to make a Love decision that coloured outside the lines. </p>
<p>Love was not found to flow until I addressed my trauma. I began to see that if God is indeed Love, then, God is also patient, kind, and willing to sit awhile and work through things. Not, indeed, far off and needing to be hailed by my grovelling humility, but close, and present enough to pull me up out of it to look into Love’s beautiful eyes and catch my reflection there. It wasn’t so much that I needed to find my “all in Jesus” and, so doing, measure up, but rather, that I would understand that All of Love was poured into me, and there was no need to measure a vessel that is by default, always full of that which flows fresh and free in it’s own perfect flavour and deep notes. Love not only forgets wrongs, it affirms what is beautifully right, specifically designed with intention, and brings the fullness of joy. It illuminates the existing beauty, and calls it to rise. Parts of me that had been buried were suddenly seen for the intentional, essential component they actually are. Where I actually belong, I fit very well… when a hose is no longer kinked, the water flows to the destination rather freely. </p>
<p>Humans seem to feel True Love is illusive as the point at which dawn moves into day. Those who have not found it marvel at those who have, as though it will never happen. Even outside church walls, people are told that love comes when we least expect it, and it’s a mystery with its own timing. We are taught not to chase it, and that somehow we will “just know” when it comes. And then in the next breath, we are challenged not to miss our chance. </p>
<p>Seek to know yourself, and be one who desires to know others. Any relationship… romantic, friend or family, will thrive in the ecosystem of patient knowing. All human interaction is training for true love. Checking the internal wiring of our own being is a great place to start. Knowing where we were meant to shine definitely allows us to look for the specific design of another. We begin to look for strength and complimentary components in each other instead of ways in which we do not jive. Our being is worth so much more than the role another might have chosen for us, If you want to be recognized as someone’s person, you have to be yourself. </p>
<p>So how did I know that my Love was<em> my Love</em>? Because he chose to know me. Like the Love that is All in All, there was a deliberate choice to look into my soul, and see me. An unearthing began, where before there had only been requests to bury that which did not accommodate another’s insecurities. There was no request for perfection, just honesty and authenticity. There was an undeniable rejoicing in the truth of me. And no fear. Being vulnerable in this context was a relief. We found the connection of Christ and our specific parts of the whole weaving together and making Oneness both apparent and strong. All of those things that were offensive and “corrected” by everyone else found a home in our reciprocal relationship. Is it perfect? In that it drives out fear, yes, it is perfect Love. Some days, Love has her work cut out for her. But when she is allowed free flow over wounds and circumstances too difficult to bear, her strength is revealed in perfect, flawless beauty, and how privileged we are to stare at one another in the light of her presence. How healing, how fuelling, how supportive of the dreams intrinsic to our personal existence. True Love in secure identity and endless possibility. Individuals woven into the tapestry of a beautiful “us.” He knows my flowers, my eggs, my coffee, my moods, my dreams, my fears. And I know his. And when we stumble on something that causes tension, we sit and and find out why. There is such a release in the knowing. I love that the tears come from a place of knowing, now, not a place of longing. Every strata of my being has been encompassed in Love, and I am home. Love that stays, is Knowing Love.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/68972972022-02-14T09:49:59-07:002023-02-02T20:48:07-07:00"...Till all Graces be in One..."<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/77782902a0b2caf8f8879e87f9cdeb62d618a3c9/original/24b06d8a-e29f-42dc-a559-62e9439db716.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p><br><em>“One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, </em></p>
<p><em>yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all <br>graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in <br>my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, <br>or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; <br>fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; </em></p>
<p><em>noble, or not I for an angel; of good <br>discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall <br>be, of what colour it please God.” </em></p>
<p><em>-Benedick, Much Ado About Nothing, Act II, Scene 3. </em></p>
<p>If you’ve never sought a lover with any specific criteria in mind, this passage holds no connection for you… unless of course you have, once, fallen in love with no criteria, experienced passion, and been badly burned. Hindsight. So very clear. </p>
<p>I was walking to my back gate one day, after terminating yet another relationship gone awry, and imagining the one for me, who might possess all graces, and truly capture my heart. Some find that person in their youth, or even, in the course of adulthood, without much time spent on the others. Perhaps they already knew themselves when they began dating. Or, perhaps they, as my father says, “Grew up together.” A process of coming to the same adult conclusions as one moves through their 20’s. I, however, glean so much from my mistakes that I call them learning experiences. Not, as it were, about the type of man to avoid (although that was, it seems, part of the curriculum), but, rather, about myself, who I am, what builds me up, holds my attention, allows me connection. This last go around made the search a bit more complex because I am also a mother, and she needs such specific things. </p>
<p>Back to the gate. I had a list longer than the side walk, strangely, few of his qualities were specific, except that he had to value me. Not just women, but me. I wanted to be safe to be open. Unthreatening in my natural form. I love growing, learning, healing, expressing. I do small talk like a donkey on a tightrope. It always feels awkward and asinine. Why? Because I read people too well and I know that’s not what’s on their mind. I also have opinions. And I’m awful at holding them in. Might actually be physically painful. I trust my intuition, and I don’t like it over-ridden in the decision making process. Careless use of resources drives me nuts. I cook. Well. I hate eating out. I can’t stop assessing my meal and wondering if they’d just added… it might be more enjoyable. I love the little things, contentment isn’t really an issue, beauty deserves to be given a breath or two. People are the big things, the mattery things. Clocks are the things that let you know why the punctual ones are miffed when you’re late. I love the woods, but I go there for peace and inspiration; I’ll hike, but for the journey, not the destination. I revel in my empty house, the solitude, the quiet I get to interrupt with the scratch of a pen, the tap of the keyboard, or the less subtle sound contributions of the piano. When I cook, it’s a creative outlet. I’m good at cleaning, but I don’t always get to it. My garden is medicinal. And my houseplants flower. I don’t care if they drop blossoms. It’s part of their process. I don’t care if a guest sees the dead blossoms. I don’t even hate the pop-in. I also have been known to do a little music in public, strange men have flirted with me. I am specifically me. I was also around 40 when I made this list… things are rather ingrained at that juncture. </p>
<p>Dang, I can’t stay on point this morning. The GATE! What did I ask the Maker for in the morning? The person who would hold all graces, for Love is patient, and kind, not rude, without envy, gentle… Capable of being present. Returning the honour of open honesty, value growth and healing, embracing their identity as a spirit being, willing to share on that level. Healthy. Secure. And as distracted by me as I am by them. In short, I was asking for someone to be utterly besotted with me, enthralled, captivated. I wanted to be seen and loved on purpose because the person I had come to love in the process of life’s revealing was stunning to me, and I could not shut her away again. She deserves to be present and honoured. I needed someone who would call her to the surface when I was tempted to bury her because she made someone else a bit uncomfortable, or the lies in my head not yet banished would belittle her importance. </p>
<p>I needed someone to look at me, and notice that ALL the graces were in ONE WOMAN, and they specifically matched the needs of his being. We need each other. We found each other too. Marvel at the exactness of our points of connection. All of the things others who could not see us found to be weaknesses are the very strength of our togetherness. We are, to each other, Home. I am more myself with him than I ever was without him. </p>
<p>The graces I needed, all in one man… Kindness, love, motivation, imagination, word play humour, the ability to help me play - even when there is a work list, contentment, encouragement, commitment, vision, excellent listener, brave, passionate, fond of food (specifically mine), supportive of the artist, musician and writer that I am, spiritually grounded and open. I don’t think this list is exhaustive. My Darling is phenomenal at Loving. Specifically me. I am cherished and seen. He also had more tools than me, and knew how to use them… but isn’t threatened by that fact that I can fix the dryer on my own. </p>
<p>If you are looking, don’t settle. If you are loved, but you don’t feel known by your lover, bare your soul. Take the risk to be known. If you aren’t sure enough of who you are to know what to look for, ask yourself where your deepest relationship wounds have been. Be brave, begin to heal from the wounds so that they no longer have more of your attention than the people around you. I wasn’t ready for Love until this Love. Not because I didn’t deserve it, but because I wasn’t ready to be a vessel <em>filled</em>, I thought I only deserved to be one poured out. Not so. And most of all, do not express to the Maker, on repeat, that which you do not want, or hate. We tend to see what we look for. Look for the One in Whom all graces have surfaced. Everything you need for balance and harmony. Look for True Love.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/68921232022-02-08T12:47:13-07:002022-02-08T12:47:13-07:00Wholeness <p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/923d7135f62b392467442a513a1f6c5d0fd2631d/original/314eecb8-4b97-4ec5-b57e-449ae6749462.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I am whole. Complete. Intrinsically valuable. </p>
<p>I am Spirit. All the way through. Body and emotions too. </p>
<p>I am perfect in my manifestation. The part you see. The part I see in the mirror. The part I see when I look within. There is no flaw in me. No darkness. Only light. </p>
<p>But sometimes, I don’t see these truths. They are not mine. They are abstract and unreachable. And the illusiveness of such a reality makes me feel disconnected and alone. And very, very, not enough. As though someone comes to draw from the bank of me, and the account reads “insufficient funds.” </p>
<p>Why? </p>
<p>I long ago left religion for Love. Church for community. I left behind structure for freedom. I changed my mind, heard what the Maker said about me. Adopted spirituality in place of liturgy. I look, in openness, for Oneness. Me with Spirit, Me with Humanity. And yet, it is as though I still draw water from a dry well. Not all the time, but enough that I wonder if this “new” wine is any better than the old. And then I remember the flavour of that wine, the bitter aftertaste, the debilitating hangover of too much of it, and I am certain I cannot go back. </p>
<p>Why, if I am happy on the path I am on, do I still feel counterfeit, or unworthy of my good relationships? Is it the remnants of Dualism? Am I yet to have searched my inward thoughts in completion and let go of that which hinders so I can run? Is there a hole in theology that I cannot pass over? Why do I not feel as I am certain I am? Not a new creation? </p>
<p>Oh. I think we’ve all had those thoughts during our ever deepening journey into Love, no matter where our religious and cultural place of origin was. It’s like we’re trapped in Romans 7:15… there are things I hate, I end up doing, things I want to do, I just don’t do (Keith Green paraphrase). Why, if our minds change, does our behaviour not alter? </p>
<p>It is very easy to default to earlier training, and try and discipline ourselves into a healthier pattern, meditate, ground ourselves, stay in the present. Aw… how religion and culture have taught us to self help, self medicate, self actualize. And how it has forgotten the one thread of the human experience that has no formula to externally apply a step by step approach to and succeed. </p>
<p>Trauma. </p>
<p>What a word that is. Trauma. It’s getting a lot of press these days, but it seems it is becoming more of an excuse for bad behaviour than the key to wholeness. The experience of trauma creates holes in our psyche, disruptions in our physical well being, stunted maturity, emotional detachment… It cannot be overcome by the introduction of coping mechanisms, new thought patterns, or habits. Trauma’s sister vocabulary is Trigger. The thing which sets off that which we feel shame for, or irrational about, or even inadvertently exposed by during the course of. Our reactions and responses to the stimuli that triggers us isn’t rational. At least, not for someone of our age and outward maturity. There is also the physical manifestations; ailments and conditions that flare up when our emotions are uneven that we can’t seem to overcome. </p>
<p>We were not meant to overcome the symptoms of our trauma. We were meant to be loved to wholeness so that they lose their grip on us. We were meant to integrate our trauma story into the annals of our history so that they become something that happened, not something that is relived every time we brush up against a reminder. </p>
<p>I’m sure most of us have heard about the inner child. I’m not sure how many of us understand that we don’t need to confront the ones who wounded that baby to heal from our past… We have the parental authority to parent that inner darling, create safety, harmony, and love, so that the playful, joyful, amazing component of our being is free to express life’s wonder and beauty and help us to connect with each other in open and meaningful ways. The faith of a little child… open, trusting, peaceful, innocent, unsullied by the world. How much more beautiful would our external human relationships be if we were internally integrated and settled, child and adult together? </p>
<p>I do not believe that we can mind over matter our path to inner peace, or physical healing. I believe we walk into the mess holistically and heal our path to inner peace. Many find what it feels like when they meditate, and so mediation becomes their happy place of connection. But what if you were so safe that you could leave the drawbridge of your castle down and still maintain healthy boundaries? It seems that many spiritual disciplines would agree that Spirit is made to rule over the emotions and body… it is the place of serenity, and the emotions and body have to follow. And, I think they do. But, imagine with me, what would happen if the body and the emotions sat down in the safe space of Spirit and became reconciled to each other as they learned their secure identity. Something as simple as anxiety. Simple is a funny word. It isn’t really, if one is prone to anxiety attacks, their body gets involved to protect the emotions in an attempt to protect the wound that lies beneath and there is one discombobulating chemical storm in the physical manifestation of “me.” Our culture hands a person substances or therapies to externally apply to the symptomatic evidence, but it does not go within. </p>
<p>I think the intersection of Spirit, Emotion and Body is Soul. Soul is a weaver, an integrator. But Soul can also cordon off and protect things she was too young to process when they happened the first time. She organizes our physical reactions to emotional disruptions into inflammation in our body tissues, and when we are ready to heal from them, we become increasingly aware of the pattern. Our cognitive memory may have blocked out the trauma of the emotional interplay and our physical presence in the moment, but our body remembers the event, and the emotion triggers the contemporary response. Messy. However, Spirit can have a conversation with Soul, and take the hands of Body and Emotion, and walk back into our story, to the unfinished and unprocessed, inexplicable bits, sit down, and deal with our past. We can then shelve the story in our memory and find peace. Within peace, is rest, and in a state of rest, is where we heal. </p>
<p>If we want to experience wholeness, and live uninhibited, we need to allow ourselves the freedom to become mature through integrating our being with awareness, not judgement. We need to stop basing our healing experiences on what happened to us, and replace it with discovering who we are, by understanding who we were before the trauma, generally and specifically. </p>
<p>We can heal, we can be whole, and we can thrive. Our physical being can bow to Spirit and be well, but by moving through the pain and healing our emotions, not by moving past them or hitting over ride. </p>
<p>I am Whole. I am Spirit. I am Perfect in my Manifestation. And as I heal, I mature, and I make it match. Inward and outward. I am at peace.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/68418792021-12-15T10:43:14-07:002021-12-15T10:43:14-07:00The Crack of Dawn<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/a2a7a157d9cd276de737443aa8aafb24fe68ff2c/original/760bb2d6-d758-452b-86ba-94a81305be21.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I am awake. Literally. It’s one in the morning and sleep did not come. It is as though in its place I feel the full weight of the anxiety of the last 21 months in full force. The dark outside, and that within are too much in tandem. The uncertainty of everything hit, and I wonder useless things, like what happens if my life partner leaves to go to work and doesn’t come home? What if Covid restrictions get more stringent? What if this world’s corrupt politicians keep abandoning their humanity? There’s so much despair in the end possibility. Especially if I listen to the voices that hold humanity in a separate space from her Maker. Because that message is hopeless. O, they will argue that they have hope… but is it really hope if the world goes to hell in a hand basket? Moreover, we were already given the perspective of Salvation, in the person of Jesus. So is not this standing and watching, certain “she’s gonna blow” and waiting for the rapture a little, well, a bit of an abdication of the role bestowed on us by the Maker? </p>
<p>Where does this fear, trembling, and treading water frantically and screaming for rescue, fit in a world view that includes a Maker who gave us the will to choose… not just what we will do, but the very things we will imagine, create, call into being? If we can do these things in our own healing journey to maturity, why do we not embrace responsibility for our contribution to the state of the collective consciousness? Is that not a denial of our reality, a rejection of that which is in All and through All, our very Source? How is it that we see him as powerful enough to change the world in the blink of an eye, but not powerful enough to create oneness in all he gave breath to by way of his own? Why do we think that reconciliation was a post-dated cheque when every time it was mentioned, it is either present or past tense? </p>
<p>Authority is a funny thing. Some mistake it for power. It isn’t. It is personally held autonomy. It is choice. If one is over me, I have put them there. I have granted them the space to make my choices for me. Some believe a role, or a title makes them an authority. Not so. For each person yields autonomy to allow one to rule over another. Society muddles the lines of this with it’s public programs and tax run systems, but that is the physical. It is not the spiritual. All throughout history, humanity has mistaken power for authority. We have looked at the weapons, the money, the force used against us, and called those who wield injustice the authority. Every now and again, allegiance wanes as someone with larger weapons moves in to free us from tyranny and replace it with another system. Gentler at first, so that it feels like freedom. But it ultimately comes with some form of debt. A price. A loss of autonomy. </p>
<p>And a loss of personal autonomy seems to inevitably lead to the break down of a culture in which one has another’s back. In short, it creates disparity and greed, as fear is wont to do. And suspicion is bred where trust and unity once dwelt akin to peace. Community disintegrates in these conditions. Love is lost. </p>
<p>How do we get to “us” and “them” when our Source is clearly indivisible, and we are sustained by it. Even if your paradigm includes no God, no spirit… our earth is driven by energy, seasons, symbiotic ecosystems, it revolves around the sun… is lit by the moon at night. Our very existence is together, and our study of the world increasingly highlights the interdependence of all life upon this sphere. Interdependence points to oneness. And in oneness lies our power to take back our authority. </p>
<p>We are not helpless. We are not subject to the inevitable repeat of history (there are some in the great cloud of witnesses who would say that the “end” people keep saying is coming has already taken place in a century much closer to the date Revelation was penned). Prophecy has always been peppered with “if” and “when” statements, largely because it is based on awareness. We humans tend to perish due to lack of vision… imagination, dreams, hope, unifying thoughts, pulling together, focus on commonality, actively looking for that which is good (Christ) and bringing it out in each other. This, is the action of Love. It produces unity. It doesn’t ditch diversity, rather, it puts it to work, so that we can see how we all function best together, holding each other up. </p>
<p>It seems so contradictory in a world where every religion claims elite status, every culture proclaims it is superlative, every specific identity seeks itself. </p>
<p>But I ask you, who believe you were made by Someone, where is it you most see this Someone manifest? Is it in the expression of your creed? Is it in those who lead your movements, religious or political? Is it on the faces of those who lobby for specific causes? Or is the most perfect expression of the One who makes us with so great a Love and Intention, who imagines the most amazing details of our individuality into pristinely recognizable discrepancy, so that you, are undeniably you, and I, myself - Is the most perfect expression of this One not in the obstinate Love of those who see that which is common, the human spirit, and love with their own personal autonomy he who is other as himself? Is that not the purest expression of the One and the surest way to place authority on the proper shoulders? </p>
<p>You are unhappy in your world? You are incensed by injustice? Fear threatens to overtake your sanity? Those who rule over you have too much power? You fear for your family? Anxiety grips you and weighs you down? Clarity evades you? You feel alone in your struggle against injustice? </p>
<p>Love. Return, first, gratitude to the Source from which Love came, revel in it, know the peace of it for yourself. And then, Love your neighbour as yourself. </p>
<p>It is for lack of vision the people perish… So choose to see. Where you look tends to change your perspective. All is not lost. For we are all still here. All of us. Alive. Together. That looks like hope to me. The tiny slit of light at the crack of dawn. And in this moment, it is enough to make me look for more. And possibly, to let rest pervade and whirling thoughts give way to sleep.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/67867862021-10-25T19:56:57-06:002021-10-25T20:05:15-06:00Borders and Boundaries<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/b4bafd5d2658d01347bcb1c7fda1a6894f1f3bd0/original/a4e83d4c-ddc6-4bc8-8ba1-c19feb79035d.png/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Wouldn’t life be so simple if one could change ones circle of humans as easily as one changes beliefs. It’s true, you can leave the organizations and external structures behind when you experience a crisis of faith or belief, but connections to those with whom you have shared experiences all your life are not so easily severed. And they shouldn’t be. Family love, is by design, something that should be unconditional and stable. It should be a point of safety for children, and reliable support for parents. We were not meant for island existence. Humans are structured for community. We can’t even procreate without a pair of people coming together in some way. Evidenced by biology alone, no one arrives by stork. Parents and children exist in all cultures. </p>
<p>There are moments in my own rethinking when I wondered if I shouldn’t abandon the “difficult” family relationships that were strained by my personal metamorphosis. At points, it was my children that kept me there. The frustration is real. When your theology changes, your whole world view takes a pretty substantial shift. For someone outside yourself to understand this is pretty insurmountable, especially at the beginning of your journey. Conversations are tense, and confronting dysfunction is uncomfortable. </p>
<p>I think the most important realization I had was that as it was my prerogative to change, it was their right to remain the same. They don’t have to move with me. They don’t have to agree with me. They don’t even have to agree to disagree. None of that means that a relationship doesn’t need to redefine its boundaries in order to function with some degree of peace in a time of upheaval. It is merely an understanding that expecting someone else to function outside their paradigm for my comfort is not love. When it’s an organization, an institution, or a relationship involving only you and one other person, physical distance and even cutting someone off is a possibility. When it is family, and you have children, a spouse, or even close family friends in the mix, it is not enough to label things toxic and then expect them to accept your position, or deal with your absence. Leaving religion is a bit like divorce. You can leave the relationship but the person you leave is still a part of you, and if you share children, they are never really gone. The human connection doesn’t tie you to the belief, but it does keep you entwined with the people. </p>
<p>Entwined, but not enmeshed. Ooo. That’s a whole subject in itself. There is overlap, like in the weave of fabric or a basket, but it’s not fused, like a nylon chord at the melting point when exposed to flame. One and independent. So you can say, same material, repurposed, no longer a part of the basket, engaged in a new role. You can also say, “here is what that looks like, for me,” but you can’t tell the other person how to make an accommodation for your absence in their framework. Believe me. I tried. I asked for some subjects to be silenced. I asked for some beliefs not to be challenged. I asked for some conversations to not be had in front of my children. I asked for some subjects to be eliminated from conversations with my children. I am aware of the trauma that asks for lines to be drawn. I have it. My kids have it. And some of my requests were very solidly backed by trigger issues. Some of them still are, and it is important to verbalize those needs so that healing can occur. </p>
<p>Healing. Love. Wellness. Wholeness. Here is where your personal growth and decisions are going to need to match your expectations of others if your relationships are going to survive. If you left religion because you could not find love in the institution, or you were wounded there, and could not thrive… and I think, for most people who have, and still believe in something, that is a big part of it… then the life you live now should be a reflection of your desire to grow. Not for others to grow to accommodate where you are now, to coddle you in immaturity, or cater to your wounds and “let you be,” but for you to grow. You will not gain the support of the people in your world with blame, name calling, and a general attitude that these humans who raised you, are, due to their own indoctrination and beliefs, toxic. They did the best they could with what they had. They are still doing the best they can. Granted, there is a space in which abuse should be addressed. And some behaviour in religious circles is definitely abusive. If that is going on, there is a need for a severance. However… in the context of family, where this is not the case, and there is just a degree of fundamentalism that strains peace, there is another approach available. </p>
<p>Set the boundaries. Ask them to focus on the Love of God for all if they need to mention God, and leave out the “but(s).” This can be especially helpful for grandparents who want to help your kids find faith, and feel like there is a piece of themselves they can’t share with you or your kids without it. Remember that this is their expression of spirituality. If you could control the narrative around what parts of your parents theology you want your kids to grasp, what would it be? I have a few things on my list that I want reinforced for my kids. They are loved without condition. God is a good Father, utterly trustworthy, and always loving. They are designed with purpose, uniquely and with specific gifts. They are never alone. God is one with all he made. There is unity, and oneness. We can see the beauty and ingenuity of our creator in nature. Ask for help with the positive role of relaying the common belief to your children.</p>
<p>If you lean more towards agnosticism, be honest with yourself about the reality that your kids might decide to believe in God at one point, and there are some positives that you would rather have them basing that decision on than the negatives that made you run from belief. Some people don’t want to use gender references in regards to God, or even see anything beyond a force. All of this is ok.</p>
<p>Have the discussions with your family, or close friends, about what your comfort levels are. But keep in mind, they don’t have any other language to speak about God with. This is still their paradigm. If you met a stranger and they were referencing their spirituality with you, would you expect them to use language that suited you? Would you require a vetting of vocabulary prior to their conversation with your children? Do you expect those who educate your children to explain everything they way you would? Or do you have conversations with your kids about what they learn from other people? Do you sort through your own conversations with others and decide what to let go or internalize? Or is everyone in your life, from stranger to intimate lover labelled toxic and abandoned if they don’t agree with you? </p>
<p>If that is the case, then working on yourself is the first order of business, because everyone on earth does not have it in for you. Every conversation cannot be the intentional “triggering” of your trauma. Strangers can’t do that. Someone telling their story can’t do that. The thing that makes everything a “trigger” is the unaddressed state of your own inner being. All of your relationships with humans will be unduly stressed if your own wounds need attention. </p>
<p>If you have moved past that, here are some healthy suggestions to make use of the conversations that happen in relationships you don’t want to let go of, but have a tendency to get awkward from time to time. </p>
<p>Learn to separate the person from the belief. Chances are you do this with strangers all the time. It’s easy to believe that someone we don’t know has the best of intentions… why would this person who raised us and protected us from burning our hands on the stove suddenly have it in for our kids because they present a differing world view? We think it’s heinous, they think it’s love. And they’re also scared that our rosy, relaxed outlook is robbing their grandkids of eternity. If something you don’t believe comes up at school, we talk to our kids about it. If we think our neighbour’s political views are wrong, we talk to our kids about it. We don’t teach the kids to think the neighbours or teachers are toxic or dangerous, we teach them to think for themselves. The same principle applies when helping kids sort through the religious views of the unavoidable people in their lives. </p>
<p>I’ve used the debrief from conversations significant family or friends have had with my kids to teach them how to separate people they love from beliefs they hold. To accept that some people speak a certain way because their world view has made their focus narrow, or beliefs unbending. It’s reality that can happen to anyone, and is not limited to religion. Every time we abandon commonality and unity for the comfort of our own personal soap box, we leave space for discord and disconnection. The content of specific conversations might not even be a reflection on their holistic world view, and might reveal a certain amount of cognitive dissonance. This is a great place to begin discussions about the result of drawing isolated conclusions and forming behavioural expectations for other people based on the thoughts or interpretations of others while disengaged from context, logic, or reasoning. It can also be an opportunity to talk about how to ask intelligent questions in moments of misunderstanding, and receive answers without taking them personally. It’s part of learning critical thinking skills rather than just engaging in criticism. It creates empathy to learn how to put oneself in another's shoes. </p>
<p>Fear of being misunderstood has created a wave of individuals creating borders where boundaries should exist. People are perpetually adamant in our present era, and quick to judge each other despite the cultural push for inclusion of every identity possible. Think of the recontextualization of history, some valid, some absurd, but all set in motion by a new awareness of race and gender issues. Most people look for balance, but we all dance around the politically incorrect phrases we used to use flippantly. It's changed the use of idiomatic expressions. Assumptions are made about our heart attitudes all the time over verbal slips. We have moved from being just male or female to having a myriad of gender identities and sexual preferences, all seeking specific acknowledgement and affirmation. How we respond to that creates connection or division depending on our bubble. The Covid virus started another culture war between vaccinated and unvaccinated individuals. The polarization is so distracting that the general populous doesn’t even see the potential loss of rights, another sub category of division and dissension. People need someone to be right or wrong. And we need to fit. We need our position justified. It’s almost a desperation because we don’t know how to go within for security so we look for external boundaries. Actually, we call them boundaries, but they are really borders, clearly marked lines one is expected not to cross at the risk of offending someone else. Enforcing protection of such lines, is the relational equivalent of a country’s border control, except trespassers are just labelled toxic and abandoned, never understood or quite heard. </p>
<p>I used to think boundaries were things you announced and expected outside action on. I’m finding that to be only part of the conversation. Boundaries are internal lines we make for ourselves which we will not cross. They are the result of the assessment of our own worth and value. The expression of the needs of the self to the heart of the self. An invisible, spiritual wall, penetrable only by our granting permission. They are the result of heathy self awareness and emotional intelligence. Learning their role is part of becoming a mature human, and teaching children how to use them helps them build appropriate intimacy in their relationships so that they learn how to properly listen to, and know others. If we have poor boundaries, we tend to require borders… and sometimes people require borders to deal with our bad behaviour. Our trauma does not give us permission to run roughshod over everyone who disagrees with us. </p>
<p>Good boundaries are about where I belong in the context of my relationships. I alone know my needs. I know which wounds are in need of healing. I know which people help that process, and which people make me want to run and hide. I don’t share everything with everyone. That’s like stopping and hazard signalling in the middle of a controlled intersection and expecting people to miss you. It’s not even that they’re habitually bad drivers if they don’t… it’s more that you parked in a bad place… they’re trained to watch for the intersection lights. </p>
<p>Take yourself where you need to be, for you. If you need to heal so everything is not a trigger, get yourself into therapy. If you need to be apart from your family for a while so that you can delineate between their belief and the relationship, and see your interaction clearly, growing increasingly able to see your part in conflict (even if that has been in placing your personal boundaries in unpleasant places, constructing borders instead), than do it. Resist the urge to slap a “toxic” label on loved ones and run. That tends to box both of you into poor patterns. If you weren’t parented well, learn to parent your inner child well. You know what he or she needed to hear, You know where the lies were placed. You know where your wounds are. Heal. Nothing banishes dysfunction like healing from it. </p>
<p>Let your own wellness flow into your parenting. Teach your kids about internal boundaries. Emotionally train them to separate the judgment of others from their view of self. You are having to do it in your healing process. Let them learn it with you. Teach them that growth and change is healthy. Beautiful. Teach them that relationships are worth preserving, not because you agree with people, but because you LOVE them. Teach them that when you followed Love out of the bounds of the institution you left to survive, you also began to thrive. Your boundaries are in pleasant places. Let them see it. Life is actually simple. And people are just people. Everybody thinks something about something. Even you. Border patrol is exhausting. Let your boundaries fall in pleasant places, and then thrive within them.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/67073532021-08-04T21:01:04-06:002021-08-05T09:31:29-06:00For the Sake of Argument <p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/fb9eec601aaa1165c14cf3ae35958d03a7e1c1e1/original/fa1779e0-34fc-4ffd-9fcb-33928fba336b.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><br> </p>
<p>Ok. I get it. We are largely polarized in Western Culture at the moment. And we all have our reasons. Some because we are educated, some because we are not educated, some because we are merely educated differently, some because we are among those who have earned the right to teach, some because experience has taught us. And some, because we are just plain scared. This applies to all areas of thought, and all strains of thought process. Every single one of us views the world through our own lens. Each person has their own convictions and rationale pertaining to belief. None of us, no matter how much we would love to claim it, came to our conclusions in an entirely unbiased, or uninfluenced bubble. And many of us are free with our thoughts. </p>
<p>The trouble is, all of this shows, and we have forgotten we are human. Collectively, human. Our discourse is unfriendly, our audience without accessible body language and discernible facial contortion. We have no trouble moving out of the realm of healthy dialogue and into the country of insult, and arrogant judgment… all with the interpersonal aplomb of one who has said their piece and slammed the door for emphasis. </p>
<p>Take your stance, back it with whatever you may choose to use. You are the boss of you. Absolutely entitled to your island of certainty. However, no other person is you, has your experiences, or education, or trauma. Express yourself freely, but own your bias proudly, and choose to believe the best about the others in the conversation. They too have strong beliefs and opinions. Experience has most likely swayed their perspective. And no one was ever authentically won over to another side by having their intelligence mocked, their bias belittled or their education insulted. </p>
<p>Today I deleted my own comment. Not because I thought I was wrong. But because I learned from the first response to it that those who read it were looking for confirmation bias. Not perspective. Not even dialogue. Just an “Amen.” I know, because I’ve done it myself. I want my horse to be the highest sometimes. But I’m usually not at my most generous or kind in those moments. </p>
<p>We have forgotten our humanity in our social media wars. We have forgotten our right to agree to disagree. When we have an outburst that fails to reflect the dignity of another, we inevitably become what we accuse another of being. Asinine is not a virtue. It is not a quality that promotes unity and understanding. Mockery is not conducive to relational harmony. If one requires these “tools” over the course of conversation it proves only that they are insecure on a human level. That their own uncertainty has shocked them, and they are now reaching for the big guns that with either make you grab your own, or go running away. </p>
<p>Strength in debate is maintaining perspective. It is evaluating why the view of another is threatening rather than taking our “hammer of truth” out. I can’t count the number of times I have heard people calling someone else weak for their inability to take criticism when that clearly wasn’t what was happening in the conversation. If your boundaries are in a healthy place, you will not speak down to another person. You will behave as though you passed kindergarten. You will ask questions before you assume anything. And, you will think before you judge. </p>
<p>You will. </p>
<p>And sometimes you will think “I hadn’t thought of that…” And you won’t die of shock. </p>
<p>Yes, we are too easily offended these days. But I am of the strong opinion that it is because we are looking for people to identify with, rather than knowing our own identity, and living it out. We are scared of change, because we want to be certain of something. You know what? If I am behaving in a way that is actually senseless, another perspective might be useful. However, if the approach denies our mutual humanity said input it will be automatically rejected. Why? Because I have ears for love. I have ears for your story. I have a heart that wants to know and be known. And that, my friend, starts in a very basic place. Our Humanity. The love available and expressed. The dignity and respect of ALL. Doing unto others… is still, it seems, the golden rule. As unto thyself… Or do you speak that way to you? If so, we have another conversation coming.</p>
<p> </p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/66957682021-07-22T20:52:29-06:002021-07-22T20:56:07-06:00Should I Stay or Should I Go?<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/b3bb68ef968f9564e88561bb1d92f909d1a6e46d/original/785cbe14-ed07-492c-9a5b-9ca71137ba4b.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s been questions circulating in some of my social media groups about toxic people. When to leave, when to stay, when to run, when to shut someone out. Most of these issues come up when one party in the relationship begins to desire more. It can follow a shift in belief or theology, a personal healing breakthrough, or even a traumatic event that leaves one reevaluating how they have lived their whole lives. I don’t think anyone abandons a marriage or a friendship without thought. We are human, we reason, we weigh the pros and cons. Very often the one who physically leaves is labelled as a quitter, told they are bitter, unforgiving. That is rarely the case. </p>
<p>I’ve left a few types of relationships in my life, and not one time was it because I ceased to love the group, institution, or individual I walked away from. It also wasn’t because I was bitter or angry or I’d been hurt… It was because I couldn’t heal in that place. Think about trauma for a moment. A soldier sees his brothers blown to bits on the battle field. We take him away from that environment to a peaceful place to heal. A person is in a car wreck, we don’t patch them up and put a bed on the thoroughfare for them to heal in. Someone is robbed at gunpoint in an alley, we don’t set them up in a home where the only way out is a dark backstreet, and make them work the nightshift. A kid just about drowns in the shallow end of the pool, we don’t drop them off the diving board. We can all see the ridiculous nature of those courses of treatment… and yet, people give advice to those in destructive relationships that is equally ludicrous. People in self help retreats and marriage seminars, people in pulpits and counselling offices… people not in these relationships who wouldn’t admit to having difficulty in any relationship and stand outside of the abuse that goes on in them, those people say inane things like “You will never find a better partner than the one you are with, or the one you left. The trouble wasn’t the person, you’ll be attracted to the same sort of person, because attraction is biological, the dysfunction was in the relationship. So fix that. Go back to your first spouse if they are still single.” </p>
<p>Um, No. Don’t. Unless separation from your abuser had them going into therapy and working on all of their crap and trauma, on their own, definitely not. And even then… it is a new relationship. You will be trying to build a new relationship on a foundation of old trauma and patterns and the trust will have been utterly destroyed. You will have developed coping mechanisms previously so that you will not be “poking the bear” and they will know how to push all your buttons. Especially if there are kids involved, do this only at your peril. This seems extreme. Well, yes, I have a visceral response to this lunacy. </p>
<p>If you are still actively attached to someone and you were mutually struggling, admitting blame for issues was going both ways. If both parties are at the same place, growing, healing, working on themselves, and that process is bringing you closer and building trust, you have a healthy relationship, even if it is something you are both working on right now. Keep it. You are building intimacy. But this idea that you hurt the one you love, so go back and do it again… No. Don’t put up your convalescent bed in the middle of the scene of your greatest trauma and expect yourself to heal. </p>
<p>Relationships are messy. Because there are people involved in them. And we all seem to have trauma of some sort. I’ve dated, I’ve gotten married, and divorced, and was single for years, started dating again, and found my first love the second time around. The first “life-partner” I chose couldn’t heal from his past within the confines of our relationship, and I could not heal there either. Our trauma triggers were constantly going off and we were alienated. I wonder if we would have stayed together as long as we did if we hadn’t been so heavily indoctrinated in the belief that our marriage was more important than either of us. I kept trying to change, to be more submissive, more giving, more open, more loving, more of a biblical wife (now your’e certain of my background) …and all I did was get lost in his dysfunction. He was doing the best he could, but his childhood left him void of tools and self awareness. He couldn’t properly husband, or, later, father. I was asking too much. I didn’t leave him because I stopped loving him. I left because we were destroying each other, and our children in the process. </p>
<p>And then, I put boundaries in place. And I was grossly criticized for them. But they were necessary and useful and allowed me the space I needed to start healing. I was single for a long time. There’s a point though, where alone no longer propels you forward. I actively sought out friendships with women, just to remember how to relate to other humans. And then, I sought out couples to be around… So the only man in my life wasn’t my dad. I needed to see healthy interaction. If I hadn’t done this before I started dating, I would have had to dump a lot more men on my road to “Mr. Right for Me.” I let myself be part of community, learned to say no as well as yes… and then I started dating. </p>
<p>Dating, and learning about where my personal boundaries had to lie in order to have a beautiful, intimate relationship in which both of us felt loved, cherished, supported, respected, valuable, seen and heard. In short, the relationship needed to create the space in which to be known, and for both parties to engage in self discovery as we healed from our individual pasts. </p>
<p>So, should I have stayed with the “toxic” person? No. And honestly, I hate that label. All of us have the potential to be toxic to someone. We can live out of our wounds instead of our secure identity and be destructive and uncaring. All of us. I know I drew from my marriage when I discussed this. The initial thought was about if it is ok to walk away at any point. You know, it isn’t about the person you are walking away from, or shutting out, or even just taking a breather from a situation to refuel and come back to. It is about you.Your wellness. Your boundaries. Your healing process. Your ability to love without judgement. Your sense of safety. Your fear. Your unhealed wounds. The person you are conflicting with or just responding poorly to repeatedly may merely be revealing a part of yourself that needs to heal. </p>
<p>Over the years I have put intentional distance between myself and a few people or situations. I needed to. Some relationships I returned to with fresh perspective. Some were replaced by healthier experiences. But I always made the leaving about my own wellbeing. It was never a judgment call in which I wrote another human being off entirely. Some people you can’t walk away from to the degree you might want to for your own sanity. Parents who are aging and need your help, Ex spouses you share children with, children still living at home… And you do have to work on the relationship. But these are opportunities to establish your boundaries. To learn how to use your voice without making your personal limits be about the other person’s behaviour. Own your triggers. Own your trauma. Don’t identify with it, that’s playing the victim. Just sit with it a minute, ask yourself what you believe about yourself that is a LIE, and why reinforcing that is so effective a tool of control for the person wielding it. And then let yourself heal. </p>
<p>A tool I learned in therapy, is speaking to the inner child who was wounded first, and, as the adult in loving authority, or, as the primary caregiver, tell that child what they needed to hear and didn’t, in order to regain a healthy sense of self. For example, many of us stay in relationships that have been destroying us for a while because we don’t think we are worthy of something better… probably because we were never understood by our our parents, so we don’t think anyone ever will “get us.” Granted, for this to have the greatest degree of weight, I have found that it helps if there is a belief in a benevolent, higher power of some sort, an abstract connection to the rest of humanity via spirit, or at least, a universal source of Love, available to all. However, if we think we were not parented well, and would parent our children differently than we were parented, it is possible just to see what was awful and correct the thought. How differently would our boundaries look if this is what we had learned as a child: “Darling, you are loved, your desires and passions are beautiful. You are unique and valuable. No one else in the world can bring exactly what you bring to it. No one else can love like you, see the world like you, or be as perfectly placed in the present as you are in this moment. Please share your thoughts and dreams and perspective, because the world needs you.” I realize that’s rather general, but changing the negative self chatter in one’s own psyche drastically reduces the power another broken human has over you… because you recognize lies and expect more, and your boundaries are in much safer places. </p>
<p>So, do we leave toxic relationships? Yes. But use the new boundary you create in doing so to heal from the trauma of the experience. Use the new relationships you build to create safe places for yourself and others. Use your alone time to discover yourself. Use the clash with new people to understand what it was about your own person that made that moment difficult. My mom used to say, “water off a duck’s back” when someone was unjustly cruel to me. Well, yes, it works if you’re a duck. Most of us aren’t. We’re human, and far more complex than that. Put your boundaries in pleasant places. Your boundaries… not your labels.</p>
<p> </p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/66350622021-05-19T21:09:38-06:002021-05-19T21:09:38-06:00Perfect Submission<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/a420510e3e5874afe098137adfc9cba21816d14a/original/bdc457fc-317f-419d-aaf8-6060450723bb.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Marriage. Submission. Authority. Biblical. Anyone triggered yet? </p>
<p>Across my facebook feed, in this day alone, I have seen memes in support of “biblical gender roles,” honest questions about how to heal from trauma without having a victim mentality, and further into the fray… What does marital submission look like from a grace perspective? </p>
<p>O. My. </p>
<p>Can. Of. Worms. </p>
<p>I was asked by my pastor, shortly after I left my husband, when I thought submission ought to end. In my churched mind, after a few years of mulling that over from the relative safety of my locked bedroom prior to abandoning marriage for safety, and subsequently arriving in his office, newly separated, I formed an answer. “When one can no longer submit and be holy.” I wasn’t wrong then. But I understand better now what I was saying. Holiness is not a clear conscience, state of sinless, I am living above reproach, publicly confessable reality. Holiness, is life, lived under the influence of Love. It is being in a state of perpetually agreeing with the Maker on your intrinsic worth, value, design and Source. It is embracing one’s oneness and wholeness, and beauty. It is being oneself entirely unhindered. Being Holy, is embracing with Bliss, one’s own unique abilities and gifts, and enjoying, with the Source of All, All. It is I Am, set apart to BE. </p>
<p>Submission in any relationship is creating a mutually safe space in which both parties are perpetually reminded, not of their shortcomings, but of their long-goings. It is not about who bows to whom, but rather about how one might nurture the beautiful being they have been entrusted with into who their Maker designed them to be. It calls one up… much like God did with Adam and Eve, and reminds them that they HAVE been given all they need, and they must embrace it. It is sacrificial, but it is not languishing. It is Love that seeks to know and understand, and to become known, not accommodated. </p>
<p>When I submit to God (Father, or Mother of All) it is not out of fear, but trust. I rest in that relationship, because I am confident I am known, and will not be asked to do, anything by them that I could not do as them. I trust them to nurture me in safety and abundance, open my eyes to way in which my needs are met, help me to see where I fit within the all. I am asked repeatedly what I want, and my wounds are healed by the experience of living out of them and underestimating my worth and value, not liking the result, and my own heart turning to hear what is true. It is not a relationship in which I am to anticipate harsh discipline, hard experiences, and a lack of peace, or any other thing. I am increasingly revealed as the relationship deepens, I become kinder to myself. As I submit to their view of me I experience the fruit of the spirit… the love and joy and clarity that comes with being in a state of being. </p>
<p>So, what does marital submission look like? Is it a gender role hierarchy? A chain of command? No. We submit to one another out of reverence for [the] Christ [within]. As in any component of community, practically speaking, we learn the other’s personality, giftings, strengths, weaknesses. We work as a team, as equals. We function as the living beings we are and be equally courageous in our vulnerability, and allow the love we share, from the Source we share, to call the I am we are in the I am to the surface. Anything less, anything that caters to the ego of one over the value of the other, is what causes trauma. It crosses the line into the land of abuse and creates a victim. Stewardship of the heart of another human being is never about authority, its goal is always freedom. </p>
<p>Marital submission, in a world where the finished work of a Maker who never stopped loving us and being with us is allowed free reign (grace life), is nothing short of Love. It doesn’t need a system, it needs communication, and a desire to manifest wholeness. It seeks healing, not accountability, unity, not uniformity. It is Christ in me, revering Christ in you, and because of this, cherishing one another. We have all seen a bee with a flower. It always pollenates it, and the flower gives what she has to the bee. It is mutually beneficial. </p>
<p>Level the playing field. Let’s begin the conversation of submission with Love and see where it takes us. I guarantee, gracious submission reveals in glorious beautiful detail, who we are, and sets us free to be that person. Within this context, no one ever gives up who they are for the sake of someone else’s ego. It is unthinkable. If it isn’t a compassionate love, it isn’t submission in the way of grace. </p>
<p>So when does submission end? Never. Because it isn’t about authority. It’s about wholeness, oneness, and Love. And dang it, if Love doesn’t think we’re amazing. “Perfect Submission, all is at rest…” I know, I lifted that from a very out of context place, but you know, I think Phoebe Palmer Knapp has a better understanding of that line at present then she ever did on earth.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/66349302021-05-19T18:54:10-06:002021-05-19T18:54:10-06:00Influenced<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/ae209a5a0cd3e989b43b4ebad47f05e38f0f0768/original/f80db685-f5c8-455b-87fe-fe2e854e2769.jpeg/!!/meta:eyJzcmNCdWNrZXQiOiJiemdsZmlsZXMifQ==/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>O, Darling, We aren’t going to agree! </p>
<p>See, I am me, </p>
<p>and you are you, </p>
<p>and Life… well, </p>
<p>it has not gone the same for both of us. </p>
<p>And each experience </p>
<p>forms our response to the next. </p>
<p>And on </p>
<p>And on </p>
<p>And on </p>
<p>until our final event - </p>
<p>and then, perhaps </p>
<p>we might arrive at the same conclusion </p>
<p>But even then, </p>
<p>I am me </p>
<p>and You are you. </p>
<p>And Life </p>
<p>Might still not go on the same way </p>
<p>For both of us. </p>
<p>Today, I fell down a rabbit hole. It was fast, and panicky, and I felt… Triggered. Defensive, Aggressive. Protective. On the surface… but underneath that I felt unseen, unknown, unappreciated, overlooked, and used. Like a means to an end. For someone else. </p>
<p>I got to the end of the conversation, and I felt like showering. I have learned something in the last few weeks. I don’t like being told what to do. I don’t like being lumped in as part of the norm. Not because I don’t want to be a part of the collective… but because I don’t want to become another statistic. I don’t want to be the support of the common erroneous narrative. I don’t want to succumb. </p>
<p>I’m sure my family would say that I have always seen myself as the exception to the rule. I have never wanted to engage in a process simply because it was “process.” With the exception of baking cakes, an endeavour which requires consistency, if not precision (although it is always ok to spill the vanilla, in fact, I endorse this practice), to ensure one does not fall flat in the execution of the process, I feel things are potentially subjective. My mother taught us as children, the “proper” way to do things. My life has been a series of learning and unlearning. Some I have kept, others I have left. I engage logic, reason, ingenuity and assessment of my own success in the determination of future endeavours. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, they say, but what if they don’t know it is broken? That takes the willingness to try it differently and see. Necessity is still the mother of invention. Failure creates ideas. </p>
<p>Ideas. O, the danger of ideas in the 2020’s. All the way through the 1900’s ideas propelled the free world. Now, they can have you ostracized in 20 seconds. Why? Because everyone knows everything and nothing. People are influenced, not educated. And those who think they aren’t influenced, usually look for someone who is educated to back their ideas. The difficulty? the educated are also influenced. It’s a mess, and we are being raised to believe that there has to be one infallible point of view. The opiate of the masses… certainty. The vulnerability of the masses? Expert uncertainty. 2021, Worldwide: the boat, is rocking. And people are grabbing everything from the mast to the air in the sails. They then pass on their certainty (drug of choice) and talk down to everyone else who grabbed on to something else. </p>
<p>But what if my experience doesn’t match any of those things considered certain? What, if, I don’t want to be afraid? What, if, I want to be proactive in an alternate direction? What if I already tried what you are handing me, and I have rejected it based on the futility of its use and the void of logic? Does your expert influence trump my right to an experiential analysis and alternate education? </p>
<p>Enough about that. Here’s what I noticed in my verbal sparring today. It wasn’t sparring. I said what I thought, and then someone’s fear took up the gauntlet. In the vacuum of a social media interaction, I was completely misunderstood, and then bludgeoned, not for the thoughts I expressed, but for the perception of my character according to a stranger. I pointed out the irony of my experience, and the reality that it caused me to question the norm, and I was scorned. I knew from the get go, that I wasn’t going to change their mind, but I wanted to be understood. </p>
<p>Nope. This person was influenced beyond their intelligence and, quite possibly, education. I suppose there is judgment in that statement as well, but hear me: if an alternate experience to yours causes you to scorn another human being, you are not going to influence them. You are not going to champion your cause, you are going to inevitably make yourself look asinine. Educated, intelligent people ask more questions than they answer. They seek, not the comfort of their own supported ideologies, but to know the people who hold opinions. </p>
<p>I miss discussions. Not presumptive conversations, but opportunities to learn from someone else, who is not delving into the hypothetical, but has experience, working knowledge, understanding. These people grow, change, and in the process of interaction, propel me forward. Education has made them open to the wonder, and possibility that all things are not known, rather than validating their insecurity and making them arrogant. </p>
<p>All of the staunch beliefs we hold should be subject to the scrutiny of context. Politics, religion, morality, perpetuation of cultural norms, approach to health and medicine. If you were born thinking one thing, and can hear nothing else, you are seeing only that the light of the sun, and missing the nuance of the sunrise, or the sunset, the music of the wind, the weight of the clouds. If you live and die in the narrow vision, you have not experienced life. Fear has determined your experience. </p>
<p>I realized I was afraid of being unknown, and that made me cast some beautiful pearls before swine. It is mine to be secure in the knowledge of myself, only. It is also mine to attempt to know another with whom I seem to disagree. Facts are, Facts. But how we interpret them is strongly altered by our life experience. Next time you want to squash the insolent bug who disagrees with your expert, ask yourself why you reached for your verbal fly swatter. If it is because you want to be known and understood on the basis of your being, and you want your experience validated… ask more questions than you give answers. Put boundaries around yourself instead of sanctions on them. You don’t have to agree, but it shouldn’t determine whether or not the human in me can meet and greet the human in you. </p>
<p>You, after all, know how you came to believe what you believe: personality combined with experience provided perspective, exposure to knowledge (education), and the allowance of free thought determines your ability to process. Some people were never given this freedom. Some people never wanted this freedom. And some people become innovators and scientists, changing the world forever, not because they were educated, but because they thought. For themselves. </p>
<p>You can hate me if you want. But don’t disdain me until you get to know me. But be careful… once you know me, and compassion triumphs over judgement, you might understand me until you like me, and then, you’ll have a friend to discuss things with, and we both might grow. </p>
<p>Or, keep being influenced. It’s up to you.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/65988512021-04-08T21:32:39-06:002021-04-08T21:32:39-06:00Air Lifted<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/2a02db0025a407f843faa58a6cdcc2250981001b/original/e4d9cf52-39c5-45a8-b870-5777c5872168.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /><br> </p>
<p>What if the world isn’t coming to an end? </p>
<p>What if God isn’t “looking on” and biding his time until he rescues you from your misery? </p>
<p>Does your faith fall apart if your hope of glory is all in the future tense, and he just doesn’t “show up” though all the signs are pointing in that direction? What if you are not seeing with spiritual eyes, but with very carnal ones? </p>
<p>I do realize that seems utterly judgemental. It seems like some kind of old testament reverse psychology. It seems… well, you know how you feel right now. All that what iffing doesn’t actually leave you with a stable feeling. The world, after all, looks like it’s going to hell in a hand basket, and getting airlifted out of here by a supernatural being who can make sense of the human mess makes you feel protected, vindicated, even elite. Chosen. Who doesn’t want to feel chosen for survival. </p>
<p>Leave that whole line of questioning for a moment and stop over in Galatians with me. I want to look at the Spirit Tree, and the fruit that is in it. In what part of your end times world view does Love that casts out all fear, fit? ALL FEAR… not just fear for yourself, but fear for others as well, including those you assume are hellbound… Where does that world view land you on the scale of fear, worry, patience, record keeping in the wrongs department, rejoicable truth? Are you able to maintain a feeling towards the rest of humanity of benevolent goodness, gentleness… Or is your inner angst flavouring the perception of every reported event. Could you see Love if it flashed it’s pretty smile or would you scream “prophet of peace when there is none!” and refuse to be comforted? </p>
<p>I have found, in the understanding of Living in Spirit, as Source of not just my life, but all of life, that fear has no place in a state of rest. It is incongruous too, in a world view in which God is just LOVE. Seeing humanity in a hopeless condition, requiring rescue, discounts the role we were given at creation, not just to be stewards of our earth, but to be co creators in our universe, taking part in the spiritual depths of our shared Life Source… collective consciousness. To believe that we are all going to die negates so much of what life in the Spirit scripturally consists of. Christ said the Kingdom of God is at hand, within us. This was not a “later” or after death reality to him. How, I ask, will we do greater things than “these” if we have passed physically from death unto life? No. That is to claim that we are dead already. Waiting for life and healing past the grave. Understanding and enlightenment, past the grave. Why are we waiting for that? If God, who knew life before he created all that is, requiring no flesh, thought that the ultimate human experience was to be had WITHOUT a body, why did he bother creating a human being manifest in physical form? Why not cut to the chase, and have only spirit children? </p>
<p>I think it’s time to experience the Life we were created for. Stop worrying about when it’s all going to end, and give in to the Love and Peace we are promised. </p>
<p>Yes, Lots of things are happening in our world that reflect a crazy, fearful opportunity for frenzied wishing away of it. But what is the reality? We have been given dominion over our world by our Maker. Are we willing to experience the power in our imagination, in our breath, in our words? Or is our thinking so fatalistic that we are subject to every earthly power? </p>
<p>Just a thought, but is it not more charitable to pray for humanity to awake to the reality of her original design and experience the oneness in the Spirit of Christ? To know the healing love of the Father, and cease striving, to feel at home in the Kingdom, being on earth, as it is in heaven? This is what ALL humanity was meant for. We were designed to abide in this space. Peace, harmony. Agitation, Fear, Hate, not part of our design. </p>
<p>When we pray for our Rescue, we are denying the finished work of Jesus. We are denying everything he came to reveal about both us and the Father. We are holding on to the traditions of men, rather that the Life of God. </p>
<p>I choose peace. I choose healing. I choose Life, and Life abundant. Because he was not telling us what heaven was like, he was telling us what life inside the Maker and Source of the universe, who is our very breath and sustenance is like. The One for whom time is immaterial, and the only existence is the ever present now. God is the God of this moment. Why do we think he would wait another moment for the experience of full union with his beloved when the role of Christ Jesus was to end the separation in our minds. The rescue already happened. Be who you ARE. Hands, feet, breath, catalyst of grace. If you are awake to Love, LOVE. It is the kindness of God that draws all men to him, not the fear of what might happen if we misunderstand him. He never misunderstands us. Ever. From his perspective, there is unbroken communication. Hug him back, and allow your friends and neighbours to feel the hug.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/65896322021-03-30T20:56:17-06:002022-04-21T21:08:47-06:00Love Bubbles <p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/894d99d73cef3982df54abab4bf59137c252074f/original/559a61f3-e55e-4acd-bdeb-326c509493ab.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I have a front door. I also have a back door. And windows, and a yard, and a front street, and a neighbourhood… Goodness gracious, I live in a town, surrounded by countryside, in which the rural extension of my community flourishes. It is in a province, where roads lead to other towns, and cities, and mountains, and provinces not my own, the rest of the country, and countries not my own. And I could take a boat or a plane over an ocean, and find more countries and provinces and territories, states, counties, municipalities, rural areas, villages, towns, cities… EVERYWHERE on earth, one could travel, and bump into humans. Fellow humans. With families, parents, grandparents, children, siblings… friends, neighbours. Community. We all are born into one. Love bubbles inside love bubbles. </p>
<p>Well, they should be. Love bubbles, I mean. </p>
<p>I was born into what I thought was a love bubble, but bubbles expand as air is blown into them. This bubble was exposed to wind, and it didn’t expand, it didn’t fly, it built a cage around itself. Equipped with doors, with signs above them, indicating exit, not just of the bubble, but of the protection the bubble afforded those who came into it. But there was no protection for those who left and didn’t return. Exit became the point of no return. If someone did return, there was always a check done about the interim wandering, and a great expression of relief that they returned to safety. </p>
<p>It wasn’t a love bubble. It was a bubble forced to remain the size and shape of itself by constriction and restriction. I think, if they took the structure off, they would find that the bubble had popped long ago, while a new larger one responded to the Wind outside, but everyone thought that was the only Love bubble, and therefore the only safety. </p>
<p>But everything that is, exists in the largest bubble of all. And it responds well to the Wind. One might even say, it is One with the Wind, as are all who exist within it. None of us could be safer. But fear is an awful dictator of perception. The unfamiliar a tool of fear. </p>
<p>I opened the carefully crafted door, labelled exit. I saw the unhindered sunlight. I smelled the fresh air. At times, I even felt the gentle rain. I noted the uninhibited expanse of the sky, and the many who walked unfettered in the wide open spaces. And I joined them. </p>
<p>The people in the bubble slammed the door. On the outside of the door, they posted the conditions of re-entry, which were, honestly, much more stringent than the conditions of initial entry, or even those requirements for continued acceptance. </p>
<p>Bubbles look like glass if they are perfectly round and still, they even reflect their surroundings. But it is an illusion. They pop. And the air inside turns out to be exactly like the air outside. Hmmm. </p>
<p>Maybe there is no “us” and “them.” Maybe my bubble isn’t “right” and your bubble isn’t “wrong.” Maybe it is perspective influenced by indoctrination that creates the bubble we perceive, and not the bubble. </p>
<p>Have you ever observed a room full of small children? A playground of tiny strangers? My children are brown. I’m not sure anyone of their age noticed until they were in grade two. When they were in preschool, no one said anything. I got asked if they were adopted by other parents and even strangers, on occasion, (definitely not… a mother might forget the level of pain, but she doesn’t forget her birth story). Color consciousness as having any role in friend choosing is influenced by the grown ups. The kids never said a thing about it. Religion, also, never enters the mind of a child, they just want to know if you’d rather swing or go down the slide… </p>
<p>We grown ups and our bubbles. We grown ups, and our self made prisons. Culture has decided our personal bias is systemic. That would be the end of the discussion if we couldn’t exercise free will. Compassion is always a choice. Empathy is always a choice. Common ground is always a choice. Fear being replaced by love is always a choice. </p>
<p>I don’t know your bubble. I only know mine. I know the prison of being in it. I know the freedom of having left it. I know the Love of joining the entire human race and embracing the presence of our Source within all that lives, breathes and sustains life in our universe. </p>
<p>One big love bubble. One. </p>
<p>Not sure if the analogy holds? Open the door of your home, walk outside, open the gate of your yard and keep walking. Allow yourself the gift of awareness. Smile at the people you meet. Some of them you may have met before. Meet them again as though they are part of your bubble. They feel, hear, love, need validation and acceptance. Don’t confuse unity and oneness with agreement, or a lack of individual perspective. It isn’t that. It is choosing to see in each other the same breath that resides in ourselves. </p>
<p>Humanity’s schisms are not the result of politically systemic issues, able to be resolved by lobbying for the rights of specific groups, equity is not solved by economic reform… Education can’t “fix” earth’s ills. You can’t alter one’s internal state of being, or sense of belonging by changing the rules for them or someone else. The only thing that does that is embracing One Love. </p>
<p>It has been said to Love your neighbour as yourself. The only ideology you can change is the one you hold in your own heart. If your ideology won’t let you love yourself without condition, or change without doing penance, or be safe without being a separate unit with no connection to others… it is not the world that needs to change. Love yourself. See Love in yourself. And then look for that Love in others. The results are Divine. </p>
<p>No bubble. Just a whole lot of wide open doors. Love.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/65797622021-03-20T01:04:07-06:002021-03-20T01:04:07-06:00Sacred Space<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/d9007e8f46a1c6eeec1100459f2f8b967b4094d4/original/1.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p>My throat is tired, </p>
<p>from crying </p>
<p>from repetition. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I thought, maybe today </p>
<p>you asked because you wanted to know. </p>
<p>I wish you would stop </p>
<p>until you are ready. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>because I am not speaking from the theoretical </p>
<p>not about these things. </p>
<p>these beliefs survived </p>
<p>so much to stay. </p>
<p>they are linked to me. </p>
<p>I am not convinced because I am persuaded. </p>
<p>I am convinced because I have lived this. </p>
<p>it is not a creed I adhere to. </p>
<p>or a community I joined. </p>
<p>I wasn’t vulnerable to lies. </p>
<p>I am rejoicing in truth. </p>
<p>I am free. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Here I am seen </p>
<p>heard </p>
<p>accurately perceived. </p>
<p>Loved. </p>
<p>I am loved. </p>
<p>Not my work, </p>
<p>my thinking, </p>
<p>my integrity, </p>
<p>my character, </p>
<p>Me. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I am loved because I Am. </p>
<p>I always was. </p>
<p>every time you dealt a blow to my heart </p>
<p>with a declaration </p>
<p>or a label </p>
<p>or a thinly veiled judgement, </p>
<p>I was still there. </p>
<p>I just retreated. </p>
<p>I held myself back from you. </p>
<p>But here, </p>
<p>in the place where being is more necessary </p>
<p>than knowing, or doing, </p>
<p>here I am loved. </p>
<p>this place is sacred. </p>
<p>and you trespassed today. </p>
<p>invalidation does that. </p>
<p>You invited yourself over </p>
<p>to condemn me. </p>
<p>For learning how to live and love </p>
<p>and commune with Spirit </p>
<p>bear fruit, </p>
<p>thrive, </p>
<p>benefit others </p>
<p>to come out of darkness </p>
<p>into the light. </p>
<p>I did that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I chose love over hate. </p>
<p>I decided the words of the Word were true. </p>
<p>That I am Loved. </p>
<p>I am known… hair of my head to deepest depths. </p>
<p>I am provided for… everything I need for Life Physical, and Spiritual </p>
<p>I am seen, anticipated…. since the foundation of the world </p>
<p>I am craved… by one who’s deepest joy is to sing over me </p>
<p>I am trusted… with what is created, and what I will create </p>
<p>I am powerful… life and death are in my tongue </p>
<p>I am heard… from the words to the heart beat, no sound hidden. </p>
<p>I am designed… flawlessly, with purpose specific and general </p>
<p>I am child… beloved, chosen, heir, by one who cannot take it back. </p>
<p>I am worthy… by birthright. </p>
<p>I am. </p>
<p>I. AM. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>unconditionally I am. </p>
<p>And it is not within the realm of man </p>
<p>to override this reality, </p>
<p>or to cancel by belief this truth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Many things were left to man </p>
<p>In fact all things were left to man… </p>
<p>except this one thing: </p>
<p>The intention of the Maker in our inception. </p>
<p>I was conceived in the imagination of the Source, </p>
<p>Not as an option </p>
<p>But as a definite contribution to the universe </p>
<p>And I exhibit that same creative power. </p>
<p>This is my sacred space. </p>
<p>And you are not permitted to enter. </p>
<p>Here, I am, with the I Am. </p>
<p>We are one, and we are enough. </p>
<p>I think you will find, </p>
<p>you have your own space, </p>
<p>And when we bring what we made </p>
<p>to community </p>
<p>I think we will find we are still one. </p>
<p>I am not you. You are not me. </p>
<p>Our Source speaks the same story </p>
<p>in our own tongue. </p>
<p>I love you. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the retelling, </p>
<p>there is harmony. </p>
<p>Not unison. </p>
<p>Harmony, </p>
<p>Hear. it. Resolve.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/65350892021-01-30T14:39:26-07:002021-01-30T14:39:26-07:00Tulip Bulbs<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/691121bbc982d290eb34f2d91de635356bec4062/original/7c8a60ac-b234-4b03-8301-d0b8ef1b45ae.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I am impatient for the return of spring. The smell of the earth and the damp, crisp mornings, the expanding light and warmth of earlier sunrises and longer days that call dormant bulbs into beautiful blooms. My flower bed is full of them, I know, because once it was only dirt, filled by default with tree and weed seeds, and because I wanted to be greeted by flowers early in the season without fail, I put perennial bulbs for tulips and crocuses in. Something green would have come up anyway, but I wanted some of the contents of my flower bed to be by choice, and I wanted the garden to bloom for the entire spring and summer, right through to autumn, without having to seed. The patterns, and the colour are predictable. The tulips are always red and yellow. I can also predict that every year I will have elm trees sprout in between the tulips. Not because I put them there, but because the wind blew the seeds off the trees, and they hide in the dirt. One might even say, that in the default setting of my yard, because of the neighbour’s trees I am a tiny tree farm. But was that my intention? Do the tulips now have to lean over and bow to the elms, or do I need to root them out so the water goes to the flowers that are there on purpose?</p>
<p>Humans are a little like gardens in spring... Life is light, it calls out what’s lying dormant, and reveals it. Some of it begins to feel like it belongs, not because it was intentionally planted by whomever designed the garden, but because its presence is so pervasive... Or it has been there so many years one forgets what was planted and what belongs to that which blew in on the wind. Not all seeds that blow in cramp the style fo the intentional design, some might even intensify the striking beauty of the arrangement. But others seem to make claims, and damage the vibrancy and allure of the mix, causing chaos, and unpredictable arrivals. Many of these plants are invasive, and don’t let go easily, recurring unbidden, even after aggressive weeding. They even get trimmed back before they can go to seed, but troubling to the gardener, is the tuber... for even a fragment of the root still encased in soil can have the “wrong” species popping up to say hello. The relationship between our original blueprint and our experience is the same way. Some behaviours and tendencies have origins we recognize, or forgot, or wish we could forget, some are positive and awake our true personality and gifting. </p>
<p>Childhood trauma is a thing. And so is emotional experience prior to birth. It’s interesting, really, realizing that the things we find have “always” been true of us might not have been the default. For example, I have had two core issues my entire life: chronic tardiness, and a sense that there just isn’t space for me. Clocks are all set at varying times to keep me on my toes, and I just finally resigned myself to the sad reality that being early was an utter impossibility. Funny though, I’ve been thankful and aware my whole life, that the Maker arranges my schedule much like he moves the (financial) cows when necessary. Cognitively I fear neither financial scarcity, nor the consequences of running behind. However, in the depths of my being there has been a tiny little voice that talks like the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonder Land “I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date...” And I’m somewhat resigned to the “fact” that when I do arrive, my chair will most likely be taken anyway, by someone much more worthy of it. </p>
<p>There are no indelible memories to back these assumptions. For quite some time I presumed I was just born to a different era, when life ran on a different timeline. The artist in me made this theory plausible, and knowing others who have felt a bit of the square peg, round hole feeling, I just assumed it was the anomaly that would give me commonality in the right group of people. And, in some circles, it has. However, the further along I get in the journey to living out wholeness, the more I realize the discomfort and the fear it walks around with isn’t linked to my original design, for I am perfectly loved, and that chronic uncertainty doesn’t really jive with living out of secure identity. </p>
<p>I think I may have gone my entire life without questioning these quirks, but finding myself truly loved, and finally safe enough to heal from my subsequent trauma (it could be noted that humans often heal backwards... from the present to the far past, in layers, much like an onion), tangible me began poking at those shadow areas and opening the blinds in some rather dusty psychological spaces. I found, while rooting about in dark corners, that the logic did not follow. If I was indeed, as I am convinced, designed as an image bearer to the perfectly timed Father of All, and purposefully put in the wide universe for this particular moment, by the one who invented both space and time, and for whom there is infinite reason in being, and boundless time in which to be... then it follows that my timing and placement are also flawless. So why then the insecurity surrounding their current “lacking” manifestation? </p>
<p>I smelled a lie. An OLD lie. This was not a personality idiosyncrasy, it also wasn’t a character flaw. It wasn’t the result of any one event that I could recall and heal associated trauma. It was something that I just always felt. </p>
<p>I have been blessed to have many healing conversations with my mother over the course of my adult life. She has been there for many of my most healing moments, not just for support, but in some cases, because we needed to heal together. Our stories are interwoven. During an earlier conversation, we had talked about her hesitancy to embrace her pregnancy. She wasn’t well and already had two children. She was feeling insecure about her mothering and was afraid she would be a bad mother to another child. This had come up while I was healing from some ailments linked to a pervasive feeling of rejection. I had been afraid to begin anything new, thinking I was sure to fail at it... that people would somehow see through me and not like or want me. I always felt somewhat on probation. </p>
<p>But this time and space thing is different. It’s not really about rejection. When I was looking up connections between kidneys and a cyclical rash, and which chakras might be involved in healing them, I stumbled on a psychological connection between chronic irritation both physical, and emotional linking childhood trauma with assumptions about this sense of lack of deficiency in an area being normalized. As though we just “are.” It is the default setting. I thought about these core fears, and how basic they were. I was trying to deal with a rash that started the same time every year and went dormant the same time every year, peaking somewhere in the middle of the cycle. I’d never thought about the timing before now. But when I counted back from my birthday... when it settles, to the beginning... it was almost 9 months. Those feelings of always arriving in ill timing, and not being a good fit, for, well anything, not even being comfortable, truly in my own skin... and always worrying that “I” would be lost if I let my boundaries soften for a season, as though the things I do outwardly defined me. If I stop, or lose my designated space in which to exercise my particular creative gifting, it would somehow be gone forever. Even if I discover things I enjoy that are not part of the original, understood, validated, template of my being... I felt a threat. Growth, morph, change, all brought about fear that what I was certain about in my character and personality would stop being so real. </p>
<p>I’m a mother. I’ve been married, divorced, a single mom for years on end and now invested in a new and healthy relationship. Life has seasons. Kids bring about responsibilities that change the ability to maintain consistent creative flow. It happens. And this change always drains me. I feel guilty sometimes for enjoying the moment I am in because I am not doing “that...” Or, I feel ripped off because I am stuck in the necessary mundane of motherhood and the joy fizzles. </p>
<p>As I thought about childhood trauma, I imagined my mom thinking “not this, not right now,” but there I was, right then: this specific person, in that perfect moment. I. Do. Fit. No one else can be me. I am perfectly on time, all the time. I can even be early, if that is what someone believes “on time” to look like. I am not chained to the expectation that I am without purpose in a place where I have been given no specific responsibility. </p>
<p>My flaws are not “part of me.” I am not destined to bear the cross of them. They are wounds that need healing, and I can heal from them. It is not just safe to let go, but also a thing of beauty to tend the hope garden and see what blooms. </p>
<p>While it is true that the fears that drove them were as old as my memory, it is not true that they were there by design. My design is as flawless as the One who created it. Out of his mind, I was spoken into being. There was not an error. My default setting is perfect. There really is no fear in love. All essential components will remain intact. All outer displays to which my world needs access will still function, even if they are unpracticed for a season. I shall never cease to be. </p>
<p>We humans resign ourselves to those things that we sometimes consider to be flaws. It’s sad, really, that we choose the ever accommodating “coping” over the very freeing “healing.” If per chance, a part of your existence, physical, emotional or spiritual, gives you cause for discontent, or fear, explore it. There is rarely pond scum if algae isn’t growing on the bottom... or, perhaps, a prettier example: tulips don’t grow unless a bulb is planted. </p>
<p>And parents... if you felt guilty reading this... be a conduit of healing. Your vulnerability and honesty, even your apology may just free your child from the fears that cause them to make some very frustrating decisions. I’ve been on both ends of that situation. There really is beauty exchanged for ashes. And some wounds, when they are healed, become beautiful scars. But usually because they have been allowed into the light. Exposure leads to development.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/65290962021-01-24T06:01:51-07:002021-04-21T11:13:08-06:00It's not in the Fridge<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/c33082adf130eb9fca2462828479649a8ee0d140/original/f4506311-8ddd-4219-a8a9-e2ebfb2c9c8f.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I can see the mess the world is in. I can see the fear instilled by the thoughts about the virus, and the current political climate, especially in North America. I know the Americans are louder about their opinions, but we Canadians have got a few too. Watching the news anywhere will get the blood boiling. We really want to see the world change, and we keep wondering why those to whom we have granted power don’t “do something” because we don’t see them doing the “something” we think is appropriate. It’s messy. It feels hopeless. Our western culture is so used to looking for rescue and stability outside ourselves, that when the world is unstable, we try and replace the windows, roof and walls, rather than the foundation. We seem collectively confused about how to arrive at our desired destination. We want to be secure, safe, recognized as valuable, validated by our society... We treat our governments as though they have the parental rights to our wellbeing. </p>
<p>It has me seeing Mel Gibson’s character standing in front of an open refrigerator trying to calm himself down with the perfect self medicating snack, in the movie, <em>What Women Want,</em> saying, “What am I doing? She’s not in the fridge.” </p>
<p>Humans have habits, we get upset, we eat, or avoid food, depending on our personal tendencies. We get scared, we retreat into our vices, drinking, gambling, excess media… we hide for a while. We rally the troops in the institutions of politics and religion if the insecurity is great enough. Sometimes, we even run to people, just to vent, silence the inner chatter, if only for a minute. We cope. We do not settle. </p>
<p>I’m not talking about settling for what isn’t right for us, I’m talking about the settling of finding stillness, a peaceful inner spot, rest, a state of being rather than doing. What that character wanted was to be with the one he had come to know and love. Humanity longs for relationship. The most accessible of all relationships is found in our inner depths. It is oneness on all levels. Complete being as an individual and belonging in unified community all at the same time. It is learning to breathe with our Source, both alone and together. </p>
<p>The world has been looking in the fridge. It is so convinced that safety and comfort and belonging are somewhere out there that is has reduced itself to studying the mould on the the leftovers pushed to the back, and the condiments long forgotten, crusty and abandoned… Why? Because being ultimately responsible for ourselves isn’t our desire. We have left our nature for our nurture, thinking it was our nature. But it is a lie. What we need is not in the fridge, it is already inside us. </p>
<p><em>But all of those things out there affect me. </em></p>
<p>They have the potential too, yes. Viruses, politicians, religions, vaccines, scary stories, ghost stories, conspiracies, misinformation, mislabelled misinformation, misinformation to discount real information (that’s propaganda); all of these things can make a mess of the fridge. All of them. If we are looking for life to be made safe based the contribution of external forces, impending doom is imminent. </p>
<p>But how do we get out of this mess? </p>
<p>We don’t. </p>
<p>We realize that it is not happening in us. We actually do get to choose our environment. We actually do get to close the fridge door and look for the love, the safety, the relationship, the sense of worth and wellbeing where it is actually found. Because it isn’t in the cold, cold world, its inside. Deep. Inside. </p>
<p>Truly. Collectively. Peace is not found in binding together over a common cause. That inevitably leads to an increased agitation and confrontation, discord. Peace is found in understanding our secure innate identity. Our intrinsic worth and value. Because it is basic, because it is shared, because it evens out the playing field and puts us all on the same team. </p>
<p>Our salvation is not in a politician, a medical system, a vaccine. Humanity is no more doomed now than it has ever been. It just doesn’t trust its Source, neither concerning their design or their sustenance. </p>
<p>Start with “Who am I?” And then move on to “Who are you to me?” And then answer: “Love” And “Love my neighbour as myself.” Trust me. It’s warmer, brighter, and much more hopeful. The path of peace is within. It always has been. </p>
<p>It’s time to stop looking in the fridge.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/64998962020-12-15T09:31:45-07:002021-04-21T11:07:13-06:00Broken Glass<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/34134d854d7e6856d4507af84f5e01d691a775ed/original/broken-glass.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>O, it’s true, I needed a saviour. Who doesn’t, when one's own thoughts condemn them? Who among us loves to hear the one we love retract the affirmation we give them, recanting all we know to be true of them. Does it not break the heart and leave one bereft, grieving for the pain of another that would discount the beauty of their own humanity? Even the worst parent among us, if a child asked for bread, would give not a stone, but bread. Instinctively we desire to sustain each other, love each other. But, humans… built piles of stones, and put upon them: bread, and bulls, and rams, and birds, and in some cases, their own children. For what? To get the positive affirmation of the best of Fathers. To attempt connection outwardly with one who had already breathed connection into them: Breath that bound body and soul together in life energy, flowing in and out, uniting them with himself and all that is, animating, granting authority, bestowing beauty, splendour, character, the ability to love. </p>
<p>And be loved. </p>
<p>Loved. </p>
<p>It’s the pivotal word in the story of us, really. We confuse it with like. A lot. Or being especially special. We think it always needs a reason. It can’t just be a deep seated understanding. A place of comfortable rest. A given. We also see the displeasure of another at our misunderstood actions and assume love has fled like a doe in the woods. But love is not so. Especially not that between parent and child. It says: You. Are. Mine. Divine declaration of personhood, that, because we do not yet know the personality of the individual. How can you? Their only language is silence and cries, and the ability to clutch and grip. A baby cannot create reasons for our affection, they just Are. Of. Us. Innately born into community, belonging. Set within family. How is it we think creation stopped mirroring the love of the Creator? Why do we think the gospel truth of our unique inception in one magnificent mind was somehow undoable by the strength of one man’s insecurity? All men mired for eternity. Cast aways desperately sending up flares, hoping to be rescued; mostly from each other, if we are honest. Scared of Love entering the room of our shame, in which we embrace self loathing and then wonder why it is so difficult to connect. We expect that everyone else, as they express their own insecurities through judgement, naturally sees us as we see ourselves. </p>
<p>Now we see through a glass, darkly. Shadows in a mirror. All of us donning the veil of mourning, grieving the loss of our humanity together, and yet independently, as if only we suffer. That too is a guilty pleasure, because we compare our pain to that of another, and realize it could be o, so much worse. We groan, we reach, blindly hoping in our darkness that light will dawn. And it does. The trouble is, we saw it like a halo behind us when we looked in a mirror, and rather than bursting forth from within, it was allowed to only illuminate our shadows. We were handed our birth certificate, pre printed with all of the details of our origin stamped with the approval of heaven. All of this in the person of Christ, made obvious to us by the groans and desires of our own prophecies… not of what the Father would put him through, but what our misunderstandings would lead us to do to him because he did not come to change our religion, but rather to render all religion in all time unnecessary, void, useless. If he had come to change our religion, the leaders might have followed him without needing to slay him. But he pointed out the futility of their office. He told people that the kingdom of God was within them. He took away the “special” status of the jews and made them one with everyone around them. He stole their victim status and their own class system. Anyone could be an active part of the family, even the unclean. </p>
<p>Jesus didn’t have to die to dismantle religion. He died because he did. To those under the law, a picture was needed to bring a system to a close. Law, and intellect require closure, sense, understanding by way of its own definitions. But to those never under the law, the crucifixion would actually have been optional. The birth of the tangible gift of love and grace would have been enough to see the One who is, the only glass which does not reflect us darkly, veiled by our own shame. I think this is why Paul can speak so glibly of the “unknown” God being the one they sought, without feeling the need to first correct their belief system, and why the gospel can be seen in creation, placed in the obvious view, for anyone with spirit eyes. </p>
<p>Humanity, in its inception, is good, connected, one. That has always been the perception of the Maker. In the Person of Jesus, we were given the opportunity to see our own potential. One prayer he prayed for us: that we would experience our oneness. Our unity. Our irrevocable In-being. In our origin is the very secret of life. All we need is there. My fears, my shame, my sorrow, my guilt; all garments, torn like a veil, allowing the light to pass through me. All I need for life and godliness. In endless supply. Even the first of us to manifest belonged. Perfectly fashioned of earth and heaven. Flawlessly imagined. Animated and then revealed, and given one to behold and affirm this beauty. Community. </p>
<p>One does not have to believe that the Way Christ pointed out was to believe his sacrifice was enough in the sense of penal substitution to have reason to celebrate Jesus. I don’t have to believe that the Maker orchestrated such a beautiful incarnation merely to appease his own temper. But to see those he loved returning his gaze, and meeting his eyes without the shame their religions insist they carry… for that he would allow us to do horrible things to the One who lived from the inside out. Never losing connection with Christ within… that Deep which calls to Deep in the roar of the waterfall. Christ our life. Putting to death that which stood between our perception and our true reality. </p>
<p>Honour the sacrifice this Christmas. Don’t change your religion. Lose it altogether. One cannot “get into a kingdom” they were born in. They simply are. Especially when the mighty Fortress the Maker is, is also the very force of Love that holds all that exists inside himself. The inescapable Christ Universal. Stop looking through the glass darkly, break it all together.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/64877792020-11-28T20:39:58-07:002021-04-21T11:05:05-06:00Dry Rot<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/3026db0ecda4a1d9e7c5048b3b45fc7b523eec8a/original/9f10cbb8-35c0-495c-82ea-5210d24e4996.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>open </em></p>
<p><em>vulnerable </em></p>
<p><em>alive </em></p>
<p><em>but dying </em></p>
<p><em>healing </em></p>
<p><em>and still wounded. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>injury is deep </em></p>
<p><em>but I appear impenetrable </em></p>
<p><em>so it is the core </em></p>
<p><em>the place where life flows freely </em></p>
<p><em>but is now interrupted… </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>in that place, </em></p>
<p><em>I decay </em></p>
<p><em>for the exposure </em></p>
<p><em>to sun and air </em></p>
<p><em>cannot heal. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>I crack </em></p>
<p><em>and you wonder why </em></p>
<p><em>I bend and break </em></p>
<p><em>in the wind </em></p>
<p><em>in the storm </em></p>
<p><em>at long last </em></p>
<p><em>I am exposed </em></p>
<p><em>but it is too late.</em></p>
<p><em> </em></p>
<p><em>put on your armour </em></p>
<p><em>they said </em></p>
<p><em>it will protect you. </em></p>
<p><em>you are strong </em></p>
<p><em>we can all see that </em></p>
<p><em>why can you not see it? </em><br> </p>
<p><em>why can you not see </em></p>
<p><em>me? </em></p>
<p><em>you’ve asked </em></p>
<p><em>inappropriately </em></p>
<p><em>for the facade </em></p>
<p><em>for me to be the bigger person </em></p>
<p><em>and in the process </em></p>
<p><em>you have denied me safety </em></p>
<p><em>cut me off from supply </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>for we heal in a place of rest </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>it is written into the universe </em></p>
<p><em>the day to work </em></p>
<p><em>the night to sleep<br> </em></p>
<p><em>What has been asked of me </em></p>
<p><em>is abuse upon abuse. </em></p>
<p><em>for the good of others </em></p>
<p><em>also abused </em></p>
<p><em>you have demanded </em></p>
<p><em>I make deals </em></p>
<p><em>with the devil </em></p>
<p><em>for the sake of peace. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>but it has failed </em></p>
<p><em>for the next storm </em></p>
<p><em>will expose </em></p>
<p><em>how deep was the wound </em></p>
<p><em>you continually reopened </em></p>
<p><em>by your own violating expectation. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>take care of the widows and the orphans </em></p>
<p><em>in their distress. </em></p>
<p><em>take. </em></p>
<p><em>care. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>or watch the wounded fall </em></p>
<p><em>from that which festers. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I never expected to feel the pain of a broken tree. To understand the reality of the shell that still stood, but was bent over… it had decayed on the inside while looking so strong and sturdy. And in the end, something so tall and majestic could have blown over cracking and crumbling in the wind at night. </p>
<p>And no one would have known. </p>
<p>In a forest full of trees, no one would have known. One day it stood, tall, proud, leafy, and the next… bowed and gutted, not even useful for firewood. </p>
<p>Unhealed trauma is so pervasive in nature. It is the wound that bears no visible scar, yet robs one of life with the most certainty. Even the one who bears it never really knows the full extent until they try to heal. If it were a tree, parts, limbs might be cut off, pesticides might be used… pieces of itself would be take off in the process and it would have to adapt to life without them: put out new branches, more roots. People need this too. Heart Wound Dressing. The support of a community that will bring healing to them, because they cannot move to healing themselves. </p>
<p>A label has been given. We call the irregularity of response to trauma PTSD. It’s nice to have a name for it. But a name is not validation. I am a victim of domestic abuse. My children are also victims of domestic abuse. It is ugly. It is messy. Our wounds are on the inside. A word, a tone of voice, a second within an experience… and the brain bypasses reason leaving us flummoxed and incapacitated. Western culture doesn’t deal with trauma adroitly. It pushes the victim to just “deal.” It considers coping to be healing. It isn’t. </p>
<p>I would love to say that the “secular” structure… social and legal are different than the “religious” in this arena, but I have moved through both, and they aren’t. Sadly, I think the one determined the other. More emphasis is put on the victim forgiving than the perpetrator being held accountable for their actions. While it is true that one can’t move past an event without forgiving, the human psyche cannot fully heal while still having to form a “thick skin” or employ “resiliency” due to continued contact with one they cannot trust. I can see my abuser with the eyes of love and forgiveness, even understanding, yet still want healthy boundaries. If I were a divorcee with no children, this would have been possible. I could have cut all ties and run, licked my wounds, and healed. </p>
<p>But children need to know their father. I understand that in the legal arena, many people lie. accusations are made, people lose livelihoods because of vindictive words and actions. Injustice is made because anger and unforgiveness overrule reason. Many have experienced system trauma on both sides of this bench. But some of us are honest, truthful, hopeful, desiring healing, and unseen. Lawyers tell you to leave your emotions out of the negotiations. It’s simpler in the courthouse. But it’s hell in the healing process. </p>
<p>I don’t know your story. I don’t know where you have hidden your pain. I don’t know which wounds lie dormant until someone inadvertently steps on the land mine they have become. I only know that I have trauma that has been tabled. And I see in myself the same dry rot that makes a tree susceptible to the winds of storms and changing seasons. </p>
<p>And unlike the common thought and literature of the day, which says to cut ties and run and rediscover self, without the lies and lack of safety, I am forced to find healing without the distance. And it hurts. The wounds have festered. The effects of trauma have commandeered some of my physical being in an effort to be attended to, and even though my heart and mind might heal, my body still responds badly. </p>
<p>I recently was lamenting the slow speed at which I am recovering from trauma I am now brutally aware of (awareness is the first step to healing, I think). I am by nature, a healer, and “physician heal thyself” is not a mantra I would run from. I find myself impatient with the process of healing, and what feels like emotional relapses. A very wise friend listened to the mama guilt and feelings of helplessness I was wading through in the moment. I was expressing the difficulty of looking unstable, not because I am irrational as a matter of course, but because PTSD is unpredictable and tears surfaced in the wrong place. I told her that I know I’m not a bad mother, I take steps to protect my kids from seeing me in this state, but a person with authority in my situation doesn’t know me well and misunderstood. She responded with with three words. “I AM Sure.” The capitals were important. There is One who actually sees. feels. knows. and connects me with others so I am not alone. And that Someone always sees me clearly. That is the voice that declares how stable I am. Thinking about how that erased the guilt and the shame put on me by so many who have only wanted my skin to get thicker and see me learn to take the hits and be the “bigger person” still wrecks me a little. I do not need to be strong all the time. And perhaps if I let myself bend in the wind a little before I break, I may find someone realizes I need support in healing before I blow right over in the next storm. </p>
<p>I want to say two things: if your healing is in limbo, as much of mine has been, your wounds are not your identity. You are still beautiful and loved, and valuable. Sometimes your wounds speak where your true self should, and while it is not ok, and can create a rather unsafe place for the people in your world who don’t see the trauma, you will have to forgive yourself for hurting others, and learn to apologize and own it. Also, you are still alive and you are not alone. Find community. Someone who will listen, yes, but also someone who will not leave you in your mess. Commiseration never brings healing, it only sparks the spread of bitterness and disease. We need reminders that our experiences are not our being. Find people who will pull you up and show you who you are. </p>
<p>Just because the book hasn’t been written on how to heal from trauma in the middle of what still feels like the battle, doesn’t mean it can’t be done. It just means that we who are in the middle of it have not yet told our tale. </p>
<p>But healing happens in the sunlight. So here I am, dragging the difficult out in the open. Because we, are not alone. At all. Ever.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/64538652020-10-12T09:42:58-06:002020-10-21T08:07:40-06:00Things I'm glad I now know...<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/f1900689bf1147cfb6e07d612f8d8e1037eb6ccf/original/lets-talk-about.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Why is a divorcee, yet to remarry, writing about marriage? Doesn’t she know that people who are successful at something should write about it? Well. No. Sometimes failure, and healing from it gives you wisdom. Sometimes learning enough to avoid repeating your mistakes gives you a platform. And sometimes, opening yourself up to Love just plain puts you in a position to know a thing or two about a thing or two… Besides, no one likes to be the one to talk about this from any personal connection. The hypothetical “them” is always so much safer. But nothing risked, no amazing change! </p>
<p>And who is this particular outburst aimed at? Well… you might want to keep reading if: </p>
<p>-You are single and looking. <br>-Your marriage has been anticlimactic even though you did everything right. <br>-The only thing making you stay is commitment. <br>-You are divorced and can’t forgive either of you. <br>-You are convinced God is mad at you. <br>-Your relationships with other humans have made it difficult to see yourself clearly or trust people. <br>-You have read a pile of biblical marriage books written by well-meaning Christians. <br>-You are just plain curious because I mentioned divorce and God in the same paragraph and those are wonderful hot button issues. </p>
<p>Why am I passionate about a subject that has left me “without a husband?” Love. That’s really the sum total of why I’m engaging with you. It’s not Love’s fault I’m divorced. It’s not Love’s fault I haven’t had the opportunity to remarry. Love is still patient and kind, still without envy, still doing a happy dance whenever truth is told. I still love, Love. And I want all of us to love, Love. </p>
<p>My marriage was dead before it really got started. It wasn’t divorce that destroyed it, it was identity crisis… Marriage is designed to be an outward reflection of an inner relationship between Creator and created. Like all other human interaction, it is supposed to be a safe place where we can repeatedly be reminded of the reality of Christ in each other. We treat each other poorly when we forget who we are and our wounds and insecurities dictate our actions. </p>
<p>My relationship with my Maker allowed me to grow because I knew I was loved. The man I chose to marry the first go around thought God was judge, not a safe place. He thought submission was total surrender of one to the other, and he stopped reading after wives submit to your husbands. I retreated from his abuse, into my Maker... but my babies did not have this tool. I had to protect them. Separation was my only option in the circumstances, and divorce became the only rational choice. </p>
<p>Divorce did not break my family, and I don’t think it’s divorce that breaks families, I think wrong thinking about who God thinks we are destroys the relationships that we call marriage. Sometimes they are doomed to fail because two individuals with misunderstood identity strike up a relationship. Sometimes, wounds we don’t know we have rear their unhealed heads, and take an awful self preserving, selfish control freak form, and we don’t know how to heal from them. There are times, as in my own experience, when letting go of the commitment is the only way to create a safe place in which to heal. </p>
<p>I don’t know your situation, but I do know that understanding a few things allowed me to let go of my marriage and embrace the reality that the Father cared more about me than my vows, and enjoy the freedom I had to grow me. </p>
<p>1. An institution is never worth more than an individual. </p>
<p>2. True love is union because the Love of God flows through uninhibited. Corinthians tells us what that looks like. Galatians tells us what the fruit of spirit life is. If you aren’t safe, and tangibly loved, you aren’t in a marriage. </p>
<p>3. Confrontation might be necessary, but should leave you feeling safe to be vulnerable and more clearly connected to right thinking about, you, your spouse, and your Maker. </p>
<p>4. It is never about a balance of power, it is mutually empowering to be in a healthy relationship. </p>
<p>5. If God sees me clearly, and I can expect to be fully known, seen, heard and loved by him, my spouse and I should want to do this with each other. Love unveils inherent beauty, it does not dictate what it looks like. </p>
<p>6. Marriage is not the result of begrudged commitment, it is commitment born of the love that sees with spirit eyes. </p>
<p>7. The most basic human right, due to the intrinsic value bestowed on us by our Designer, is to Love without inhibition, and be loved so in return. This is the foundation intimacy is based on. </p>
<p>My marriage was none of those things. He had broken every vow by the end of the first month. I deserved to be loved for who I was, and so do you. It is painful to have to choose to walk away from the person you vowed to love and cherish, even if staying means you or they will self-destruct. It is painful to have someone walk away from you, but I think, much like a butterfly cracking out of a chrysalis, the discovery of beauty may follow the pain. Let yourself fly. Let yourself discover abundant life. If you desire the return of your spouse, look forward to it with hope... but embrace change while he is away. Embrace love while he is away. Embrace yourself while he is away, so that you are so beautifully who you are in your Makers eyes that he can’t stop staring. Maybe reconciliation looks like reunification, maybe it looks like grieving and moving on. No one else is in your relationship. They can’t know what is right or wrong for you or your family. </p>
<p>I had read so many books on dating, marriage, and relationships from a biblical perspective, that I stayed to my own detriment. I actually believed that biblical marriage was the context in which iron was to sharpen iron. I expected conflict, difficulty, external attack, a million things I would have to forgive, and a boatload of painful growth to come my way. Needless to say, instead of looking for happiness and peace in a relationship, I searched for spiritual stimuli. I felt more connected to God when I was hurting, emotionally raw, and spiritually needy. I sought to give more than I took because sacrifice was righteous. I sought my all in Christ so that I wouldn’t need anything from my partner. I. I. I. There was no need for “we” outside of what “we” might do for Jesus. The trouble is that when I latched on to someone, I had been groomed for disfunction. For all my passionate pursuit of holiness, I could never have had a marriage that reflected the love relationship between the Creator and His created ones. </p>
<p>And in the process of seeing that to its logical conclusion, I entered a relationship in which I lost my sense of self. </p>
<p>Secure identity is key to healthy life. It determines connection, bonding, dreams going from goals to reality, tangibility of desire, community engagement. If the Maker hates divorce, as the modern english text asserts, it isn’t because a covenant is broken, or because the action itself is sin. It’s because it reflects an error in understanding of how much we are loved, and what it looks like when we rest in that knowledge. We were created for relationship that draws to the surface the beauty of our being, imagined by God. Unique and equally a part of the whole that is Source and Life. We were designed to compliment each other, and hold each other up, for mutual support to build strong intimacy. To know as we are known, in all aspects. To grow deep enough in love to discover all that we are, and have someone else’s eyes see us more clearly than the veil of our negative experiences will allow. </p>
<p>Look for that kind of love. Strong, gentle, beautiful love with hopeful vision. Marriage is supposed to be happy. And we are supposed to enjoy it. If we’re not, asking “why” is wiser than enduring out of duty that which might be destroying us. </p>
<p>***why does it feel like I might not be done... well, ask me. Comment. Share your story. Let’s discuss. I’ve had years to think about this one, and I’m know there’s lots more to say (but it’s a blog, and you were expecting a five minute light read). The understanding that who we are intrinsically matters more than our do’s and don’ts effects our relationships, but it’s new enough to leave us wondering “how to.” Let’s start the conversation, because let’s face it, we look for love to heal our hurts, and part of sitting down inside and learning to “be” is replacing unhealthy boundaries with healthy ones. If it’s too personal, Facebook has messenger for a reason. My website also has a contact form on the bio. Let’s talk. Let’s heal. Let’s be well.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/64340752020-09-15T10:03:21-06:002020-09-15T10:03:21-06:00Flowers in the Manure Pile<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/f05722afc2c4bae910be90558640d6484d3917c1/original/a-blog-post-by-melissa-rempel.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I don’t want to be the person you can’t live without. I want to be the person who reminds you that you are alive. </p>
<p>The deeper I move into love, the more I realize that the truest form of it seeks the good of the other person. Not their comfort or their prosperity; not their ease or their external happiness. Their good. Love keeps no record of wrongs. Not because it buries its head in the sand and hides, or because it naively continues to allow repeated bad behaviour, but because it sees the mistakes as growing experiences, or symptoms of deeper issues and requests change. It isn’t the inconvenience that drives this confrontation, it’s the knowledge that the relationship cannot progress past this point without it. If one party stops growing, content to wallow in the muck and mire of stunted emotions, there is no new adventure. </p>
<p>Mature confrontation also reveals the person one is, rather that expounding on all they are not. The truest self in any of us is who we are at the level of spirit. The sharing of Source places us all on an equal footing. Equally supported, seen, heard, and in essence, imagined by our Universal Maker. I strongly believe healing is much simpler when this belief is there, though I realize that this is the point in my discourse where some will leave me. However, this premise may cause a return: True Love looks at a person who is in the middle of the mess and divides the experience from the individual. It is able to look, much like a groom recalls the beauty of the woman behind the veil at a wedding ceremony, recall, and verbally affirm the beauty. Humans tend to act how they feel, picking up old habits or using old responses or coping mechanisms based on wound memory. Temporarily we feel we have created a place where we matter as much as we want to, because we are doing whatever we choose. However, as we mature, engaging in selfish behaviour only serves to make us feel worse about ourselves. Generally we give ourselves a berating making it unnecessary for someone else to step in and take up the baton. </p>
<p>What we need is the mud washed off, the mirror held up, and the insistent “look at yourself” presented. You, are stunning, lovely, strong, capable, utterly cherished, of untarnished beauty. You so reflect the light that you make it look good. Love recounts the times you accurately reflected your Maker, and asks how it can help you do it again. Love remembers who you always have been, and declares you “good.” If it confronts behaviour it does so in a way that stresses that you are not low, the poor conduct is beneath you. It also lends enough strength to help you discover your own so that healing can begin. It doesn’t drop a truth bomb and run (although, there are some circumstances, like abusive relationships, where I might advise the running, as staying around can be self destructive, or at the very least, enabling). </p>
<p>The base instinct is self preservation when we don’t know who we are. We hold onto the things we have accumulated, the “doing” that declares our individuality. We identify ourselves with our roles and accomplishments. Our culture reinforces this: jobs are awarded on credentials, loans on credit scores, marks on work, success on visible display of wealth. While track record should affect our material output potential, and sometimes it places limits on our level of impact, it should never dictate how valuable one finds themselves. </p>
<p>Who we are is intrinsic. Our value bestowed. Circumstances do not dictate character, or potential. The Course is not charted by the mistakes we make, though the path may spring from that point. The most beautiful plants are grown in dirt and manure. Not because they took on the shape and form of their soil, but because they pulled the nutrients out of what was decaying and BLOOMED anyway. They bowed to what had been bestowed on them, not what they found most tangible. </p>
<p>True love reminds the one beloved that they are the seed they are. It will not tolerate the mask of poor behaviour. It will not tolerate the stench of old, rotting wounds that constantly declare the incapability of change. Love does not sit on the sidelines and watch one self implode. And it should never be asked to. It may for a time, appear distant while someone goes through a process and finds health, but it does not actually retreat. </p>
<p>I used to believe that I needed someone who couldn’t live without me. I needed to be needed that badly. I also used to believe that when I had messed up, I needed to wallow in the nastiness of that feeling, and label myself useless and unlovely. I used to think repentance and guilty feelings followed each other around, and there needed to be an emotional incapacity to function until something wrong had been dealt with. That is penance. Love does not require penance. Love requires freedom of movement uninhibited by the wrong perceptions I have about myself. If I believe the Truth about me, from the Mouth of the One who is Truth, I will also believe, by default, the Truth about you. And because I Love you, and Love rejoices in the Truth, I will tell you what I see. And it will only be difficult to hear until you believe it. I don’t want to be the person you can’t live without. I want to be the person who reminds you that you are alive.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/64220232020-09-01T10:24:33-06:002020-09-02T22:49:19-06:00What If? <p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/0b79a4034058e813a76b8d10594d99782bbc2ef2/original/what-if.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I wonder what would happen if we embraced the beauty and the good with the same fervour we latch on to that which scares us spitless. Humanity was given authority, Creation has bowed from the beginning. How many choices do we give it, really? </p>
<p>So many have seen the world situation and shuddered, some proclaim the end is near, as if they are waiting for the world to self combust and blow all of us to kingdom come. It is almost as though we are a child in the middle of a temper tantrum, longing for a parent to change our circumstances, but forgetting the house rules. We forget that we decide our outcome by our actions. If the rule is no screen time until the room is cleaned… well, a fit won’t make a computer magically appear. In essence, we have tied our mother’s hands. </p>
<p>Maybe the disruptions in our world peace and natural order, are, not so much our “fault,” as they are the inadvertent response of our environment to the stimulus we present. Like a child who has forgotten the house rules once they have given into frustration, leaving the parent no option, perhaps we have given Mother Earth no choices. </p>
<p>If, all is made and held together in One Spirit, and, if said Spirit established order giving humanity, which shares this Spirit, authority over our world, power to be collectively used for the good and sustainability of our Being, and we live outside this paradigm, believing ourselves helpless and in need of rescue, what then do we bring our environment? </p>
<p>Indeed, what “If?” </p>
<p>Perhaps the secret to our cohabiting in our world peacefully and without violent incident or fear lies in how we collectively view our status and placement in this friendly universe. </p>
<p>Small scale experimentation in quantum physics suggest we have much more power, in imagination and in intention to see our desires manifest. It also points to the possibility that observation can alter outcome. Tricky. Combine God given authority with that kind of infinite option, and the human might want to be careful about what we dream out loud. It would seem that the principal that governs life… what we focus on becomes reality, has widespread implications. </p>
<p>For instance, current circumstances: world wide pandemic. Wide spread fear, dependence on others for safety, political unrest in many countries, and, it seems, a few extra natural disasters cluttering the weather channel. </p>
<p>Sometimes I talk to storms. I tell them they can wreak havoc wherever they want, just don’t hail on my garden. And they don’t. I spoke to a whirl wind one day, told it to settle, and it did. Put down the tumble weeds and went back to where it came from. I’ve spoken to my body and told it today wasn’t an option for a physical ailment. It stopped. Jesus said we would do greater things than these. Religion has relegated these greater things to soul saving and demon control. It has delineated, making it a “spiritual” game, separating spiritual things from the secular. Its major accomplishment, the creation of a whining, snivelling population that requires saving, rescuing, relief, salve and snacks. We’re toddlers with limited understanding and language skills. I’m not picking on any religion, by the way, all of them seem to throw us back to infancy and dependency. </p>
<p>Perspective is everything. If I believe I am a baby, and God is out there somewhere making decisions, I am going to view my input as inconsequential. Everything I hope for is iffy. Seeing my intentions manifest becomes as possible as being the one to break open the piñata at a party. Either grave disappointment awaits, or fabulous surprises! If I believe I am actually a joint heir with Jesus Christ, due to the sharing of the same Spirit which raised Christ from the dead, having already been given all things needed for physical life and spiritual life (life and godliness), the whole game changes. I no longer beg for something outside of myself to change my circumstances, I rather imagine the possibilities and open my eyes to see how the situation may change. If I believe that all things happen for my good, I look for that good. If I believe that my Father is the Father of Lights, I remember that I am Light as well, and the darkness loses its power. In short, I stop looking for that out there to change in my favour while I sit helplessly and wring my worried hands, and I allow the peace within to pervade the unrest without. </p>
<p>Have I accomplished flawless execution of this practice? No. However, I have come to realize the patterns in my own life which prove the outcome possible. When I thought I must be content with little, I made do, expecting only enough. When I allowed myself to look for more, and believed it possible, more began to come. Abundance requires an open hand in which to fall. Wringing, worried hands are closed. A mind that is constantly doing budget sums and never imagines more will not dream of financial independence, nor will it shoot for the stars and seek out opportunities for betterment. A crushed, unhealed heart will not look for love, but rather confirmation bias of its brokenness. Relationships will not be healing or fulfilling until that is what one seeks. How much land would God have given Abraham if he had looked at his feet instead of lifting his gaze to the horizon? Would Jesus have calmed the storm if he hadn’t spoken to it? Would the disciples have had a net breaking catch if they had cast their nets on the left side? Nope. Only the Right. Growth and change and healing require a change in perspective and a healthy outlook of “I can” possibility. We are given the desires of our hearts. Sometimes what we have told ourselves we deserve interferes with the manifestation of the loving, abundant and beautiful. </p>
<p>We cannot see that which we do not look for. How many of us have missed our exit because they moved the sign, or tore down a landmark? The road is still there, but we can’t find it because we want it to look how it always has been. We can’t find our future because our past is dictating our present. What if we are collectively missing our turn because the landmarks we have always relied on: science, class, government, religion, prosperity, law, are crumbling around us, and our external influences have crushed our imagination. What if it is time to listen to the artists and the lovers, and the visionaries who see the basic form of our being as the platform for change. Those who see our sameness which fuels the beautiful tapestry of our diversity? What if the world we live in, cradled in the universe we were placed in, craves our loving influence rather than our subjective fears? What if our perceptions are the key to victory, freedom, and harmony? What if justice and protection flow from love? What if reconciliation is possible? What if? </p>
<p>What if the path of peace is within us, and the key to our health and well being is unity, togetherness, and correct understanding of individual and collective intrinsic identity. What if Love really is what the world needs now? </p>
<p>What if rather than praying for peace and healing and unity, we became channels of peace and healing and unity. What if, like Abraham, we stood on a mountain and searched the horizon, and both envisioned having all we saw, and being a steward of it, accepting the beauty of responsibility? </p>
<p>I think, if such Light as we are truly Shone in our World, no darkness, sickness, poverty, religion, ideology or government could stop the changes. And I also think, that if we chose this path of peace, we would give Mother Nature an option in the outcomes, and the earth might find its rest along with her inhabitants. </p>
<p>It is not for lack of “things” the people perish, but for lack of vision. Let’s envision together, so we might live together in the way we were created to. I promise, that place is beautiful.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/63879572020-07-20T22:25:22-06:002021-02-24T09:46:52-07:00Fake News<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/be0cb705350dfd203d2918514d8848c0edf9a95c/original/5db4ad14-0345-4846-90a2-f7da526ba0c9.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p>News of the death of my faith has been greatly exaggerated. One might even call it fake news. But all the best propaganda is based on, at best, one’sjudgement of another’s actions, and at worst, outright lies. And so, this event is not surprising, for agitated reactions and conspiracy theories are born of such rumours: I received a very well meaning letter today. Extremely well meaning. In it were several admonishments not to abandon the faith of my youth. </p>
<p>My faith is alive and well. Although it has grown to an inclusive stance that I believe allows God more freedom to be His Loving, Fatherly Self, and that process has taken me away from traditional congregatory fellowship, my faith has not died a slow, agonizing, nor a quick, traumatic death. It has merely been given the room required to breathe, and the ability to sustain me in every facet of life; not merely those within the common boundaries acquired by the adoption of an externally sustained legal system and conscience. I’m sorry if that is unclear. The long and the short of it is this: the law of love, evidence that the Spirit within is truly the breath and life of my being, has captured my heart, and those uncomfortable grey areas have become points of rest. </p>
<p>My faith has been set free to truly be put into action. Endless possibility and imagination are the only limits to what might manifest. Potential outcome of belief is no longer subject to the weighing of checks and balances. Have I done everything right? Have I somehow sinned and ignored it? Have I exhibited proper penitence? Have I properly considered the eternal consequences of my daily mistakes in a way that might prevent further disruption of the norm? Have I properly taught my children so that they might avoid the fire, or have I abandoned them to hell and tied round my neck the proverbial millstone by my neglect of their eternal souls? Well, have I? </p>
<p>Well, no. I haven’t. Because Love never fails. And Love has already won. And I am safely relaxed in the lap of the Maker. And I need no creed or doctrine, no community held conclusion of truth’s contents to ground me. My very existence is solidly sought and sustained in my Maker, who, incidentally, saw fit to charge man with appropriating stewardship of creation, in essence, doing unto others what we might have done to us, the earth included, and we, who believed a lie, have subsequently dropped the ball and repeatedly ask to be let out of the penalty box, saved from our self inflicted consequences and perceived injustices, if you will, when we were never sent there. We are as Christ in this world. Yet, we sit tight and hang onto our beggar’s prayers, grasping at straws we feel we have no right to. We are sons. Daughters. Children. Identity is one thing, perspective is another. Which one is given opportunity to rule? </p>
<p>On second thought, perhaps, MY faith is DEAD. For rather than believing that He can do anything, in spite of me, if only I muster enough faith, I have quite agreed with Him, that In Him, as all things are, anything is possible, and I shall find myself quite capable of listening, and acting, as did Christ Jesus, and consequently, I shall be getting it right. I shall be looking for that which is needful and necessary, even abundant to show up in perfect timing. I shall be agreeing that my Father indeed has all the cows, and moves them around as they are required. I shall agree that I have all I need for life and godliness, including the faith of Christ, inside me, at my very core, and I shall stop looking for the checks and balances to line up and award me the blessing based on the formula. </p>
<p>And I shall accept that within holy relationships, the timing of which may not line up to widely accepted legal standard, I shall understand myself as seen through Love’s eyes, because those with whom I share relationship are also in the beloved, and might, perhaps be seeing me with clarity. I shall listen, rather, to their supportive truth, which heals and manifests as divine sustenance and calls me to abandon the lies that seek to defeat me, thus, disagreeing with the Maker who called me GOOD. For indeed, all I have needed, His hand hath provided, past tense, there is no lack. Not in me, not in my world. </p>
<p>The trappings of that which felt like faith, I have indeed abandoned, for both God and I were hemmed in on every side by them. Freedom is beautiful. Faith is beautiful when it is allowed to grow. And if it is not mine, formulated carefully by me, but rather, His faith in Me (yes, there is a double meaning in that), then grow it shall! Faith Unlimited. Fully embraced!</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/63726102020-07-01T11:50:24-06:002020-07-03T04:11:46-06:00"LABEL MAKERS DOWN!"<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/488811f8435d9e879d23b80578c962209a74d4ae/original/label-makers-down.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet…” One should thank Shakespeare for the penning of that phrase. It is true… the wild rose in the woods so fills the air, one cannot miss it. Its power is not in the name of it, but in the essence of its being; the sight, the smell, the subtle hum of the bees it draws in, and the medicine within the hip left on the bush long after the petals fall. I am attracted by its beauty, not its name. I stop and breath it in, not for the name, but for the peace and harmony I am immersed into as it spreads the love it has been allotted without reservation. Flowers in general are captivating to me, each one a delightful surprise, I meet them, and then I ask what they are called so that I may share the joy with another human. </p>
<p>Others, I think, feel this way about their dogs, or cats, or horses. They rarely are chosen for the name they have been given, but rather for their personality, demeanor, or appearance. There is much in the eyes of an animal to speak of its character, and they are best named after the knowing has begun. I’ve named a tomcat, Teeny, as a kitten (to go with its twin, Bop), He is definitely not little. The juxtaposition makes me giggle. Hindsight. Clever hindsight. </p>
<p>Whatever it is you have come to love, Whomever has stolen your heart… it was not the name that crushed your defences. Why so, do we expect this of the Maker of all these good beings, that life be in the name rather than the essence? </p>
<p>I was asked once, if it was possible that all roads lead to God. It was in the context of a discussion on world religions, and I was, regrettably, very naive in my definitive response. I thought it couldn’t possibly be so, for I had been taught that so many roads have a very bitter end, and was convinced that taking them would be the undoing of the pilgrim who walked them. Somewhere in my journey, the road has lost its power, and the movement towards the goal has revealed the desire and passion to both connect to something, and be found by someone. It is undeniable that humans search for that which was somewhere, lost, and we feel it is us, until we find it. The trouble is, we do not consult the map before we begin the journey, and we seek the route with the wrong eyes. </p>
<p>The map is within, and the eye has a single focus. Spirit. Union. Essence. Being. Connection. Our world has it so backwards. Our need to be part of something, less of an island, has us clamouring for the trappings of a label. A small group to identify with. We search for our “peeps,” our “tribe.” We feel small and insignificant without our ID, our boxes. In our search for belonging, we have forgotten the essence of our being. Significance is not as much in the knowing, as in the being known. But that too has been twisted. We have wrapped identity up in a name and tossed aside the depth of connected existence. Spirit. The very breath of God. </p>
<p>Interesting to me, in the biblical account of creation, God called creation into manifest reality without having a name for anything. He then created Man, in his image, and instructed him to give his creations a name. It strikes me that in this process One is imagined by the Maker, Called into being, Known or Revealed by character, and Named accordingly. History has revealed that any adulteration of this process produces disastrous effects. We, the created ones have reversed it to our own detriment, beginning with God. And in so doing, we have lost who are. </p>
<p>But he told us who he was! Arguably, yes. The trouble is that every religion could claim that. And not one got it right. Put down your label gun, Adam. I know you’re forming a rebuttal. If you were raised in Western Christianity, you are presently mentally flipping through the old testament and going through the Nature and Character of God “revealed” to Israel, and forming a tidy list. And then Jesus enters the Ledger, and the books no longer balance. He is, as it were, depending on how concrete your certitude, either an eraser, or a bottle of whiteout, liberally bandied about until all that remains is… Love. Shock. Panic. Terror. Only Love is left? God revealed in Christ Jesus, Jesus revealed Christ in us. Union at the outset. Oneness, Connection, Immaculate Conception. All in a very all-ish sort of way. Spirit born Humanity sourced in God himself. Inseparable. </p>
<p>So why then, the insipid need for the label maker? The constant classifying of things? The us and them? We have simply inverted the process. First we name a thing, then we define its characteristics, then we form a knowledge box to flesh out the possibility of containment, allow it to coexist with us, and imagine that it is the ordained plan according to the mind of God. Who sadly, is no longer allowed omnipotence, omnipresence, or even, unlimited state of being. We have grossly misused our label maker. What was meant as a tool of understanding the infinite mind of Christ… essentially the ability to accurately describe the identity of an individual being within the context of the Great Oneness, has instead been used to squash, squelch and box our World and its inhabitants into an unhealthy, and somewhat pregnant pause. Every now and again, her labour gets ugly, and reflects our tenuous state of consciousness, and man looks to whatever being it has defined as sovereign for rescue. In our clumsy attempt to define such a state, we often call it revival. </p>
<p>But I wonder, does the One who is Love agree? If in His mind we were imagined, If with his words we were called into being, If in His heart we were first known, before we had a name, before we were manifest in a body, visible as individuals to one another… if this is our origin, is what we call revival bringing him pleasure? Why then, are there factions among us? Why is this group, or that one called to repentance, and the subsequent human experience seemingly a movement from one camp to another instead of a general move to unity? </p>
<p>A question was posed concerning the Christian idea of an encounter with Christ, because so much emphasis is placed on the Name(s) for God in this tradition. The core of the query was this: could one actually have a genuine encounter with Christ without ever using his name? It’s one of the core values of the church, upholding the Sacred Name, at which every knee shall bow and tongue confess. We have used it almost as a threat to the ungodly, spewed it like venom, clung to it in our oppression, validated martyrdom, hoped for the ultimate outcome that lets us know the world will finally see WE WERE RIGHT! In this context of knowing, how is embracing some abstract idea of a loving deity of any kind enough to satisfy so exacting a being? How could one even begin to experience true repentance without also forming true allegiance to Jesus? </p>
<p>And we wonder why there are factions among us? Humans are silly. Terms first, definitions second… Our boxes so square and limited, our world so Round. Just as our word repentance, in its translation and interpretation has become skewed, and is no longer just the change of direction implied in the original language of the Bible, so also have our terms for God. Many have had God thrown at them in a verbal beating, a definite vain use of the Name. Imagine using a name to describe the greatest Love you have ever encountered that had come to symbolize your personal prison. If someone can come to the place where they find God to be good, or even remotely trustworthy after humans have used him for abuse and oppression, it is proof positive that Christ is at work in them; healing, restoring, redeeming… finding that which was lost: their true identity. </p>
<p>What is the point of embracing a name that does not fit the character? Which Husband or Father would rather be properly addressed according to their title and feared, than be nicknamed and approached with openness and trust? I cannot imagine a Father, who’s baby cannot say “father” berating a child when “ba” or “da” comes out in its place. My brother’s children call their grandfather “Boppa.” It was a mispronunciation by a baby that stuck and came to mean something. The point was that it was freely combined with “I love you,” and the feeling was reciprocated. How do we think our Heavenly Father could possibly be less accepting, and offended by use of the the wrong name. The power is not in the term, for the Being was already in existence before the label. It is the Essence, the Love to which we are drawn, it is the attitude of that Love towards us which beckons us to come. It is the deep mutual knowing that produces the unbroken unity within our being, the REST that comes of finding ourselves (that which was lost) to be irrevocably held in the lap of he who imagined us. </p>
<p>Just as heaven’s gates are never shut, the Father’s Lap is ever available. In fact, if we look into his face, and catch our reflection in his eyes, we find we are already there. </p>
<p>Stop there, just as you might among the roses, and be refreshed. Not because you know His name, but because your heart is captured by the fragrance, the essence of His being. Know as you are known. His heart is familiar, not because you have memorized his attributes, but because at the very core of your being is the same heart. </p>
<p>O, Humanity, we are embraced in such a Union. Why then are there Factions among us? </p>
<p>Label Makers DOWN, Adam. It is time to Sit and Be.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/62804102020-04-12T13:38:05-06:002020-04-13T06:34:03-06:00Resurrected Life<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/7bdb5078ceec737c34830de467d627d2a771828b/original/resurrected-life.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Life is in the living. </p>
<p>Really. </p>
<p>And the proof of life is in the way life is lived. </p>
<p>It is all well and good to say, “He is Risen” and realize that it is Christ in us declaring that “We are Risen.” But what effect does it have on our lives, our relationships? How does a vertical reality translate into a horizontal one? </p>
<p>Love. Patience, kindness, goodness, self-control, peace, gentleness, faithfulness… Fruit of the Spirit. Too long have these been seen as virtues to be cultivated rather than the default setting of a human made in the image of the Maker, and given life with his very breath. This is what love looks like. This is the outcome of the resurrection. No longer are we enslaved to the faulty understanding that we are not all of these things without a certain amount of intense refinement. It was for our freedom that he subjected himself to the path of man that a broken system might be revealed to be useless, so we might discover that the Kingdom of God was where it always had been… within. </p>
<p>With Jesus was crucified the idea that we are separated from God, and the Sin defeated was the misunderstood identity the thought produced. If our Maker cannot love us without the mediation of sacrifice, then why should my human relationships be any different? Should not all relationships be part of the formation of my being into the image of the invisible? Religion turned creation on its head. It has been doing so for ages. </p>
<p>Do we assume the Trinity laces heaven with tension? Is the flow of Divine love inhibited by selfishness? Misunderstandings? Miscommunications? Or is there security in the identity of each member of that “us” into which we were birthed at creation? Why then do we assume that our relationships need to be difficult? Humans have written so many books on how to avoid being hurt by difficult people, how to assert the self, even subject oneself to what could only be called abuse in order to cultivate humility and submissive spirit. </p>
<p>But do these coping mechanisms honour the Christ life in each other? Do they declare freedom to the captives? Do they bring about healing? Do they reinforce the Divine Design unique to each person? Or do they manipulate people into filling a mold. I fear it’s the latter. My greater fear is that it is because of fear, and the belief that suffering is necessary for refinement driving us to accept the self deprecating declarations as our personal truth. Such a contrast to the mantra of Easter spread over Christendom: He’s alive in us. If he is alive in us, if he indeed is our life, why then the disconnect among the humans? </p>
<p>Let’s make this practical… We are One, as the Father and the Son are one. Joint Heirs, He was the firstborn of many brethren. One Spirit, One Family, One Body. Many members, many parts. What might come about if we chose to live this out? To look at one another, not with the fear of being known ourselves and exposed and vulnerable, for being known deeply is a privilege, but with the express goal of seeing the specific manifestation of the Maker in that person. And then turning inward, and noting the specific manifestation of the Maker in ourselves. Am I a hand, a foot, a tongue, an arm? Am I a healer, a shepherd, a priest, an evangelist, a compassionate lover, a giver, an advocate of the weak… How can Christ in me bring Christ in you to the surface so that you and I stand in strength together? </p>
<p>If you are buried under the weight of your circumstances… How can I roll away the stone that holds you in your tomb? You have been set free, how do I relay the message to your broken heart? Of late I have been experiencing a kind of love that reveals Christ in me gently, rather than chiselling away at the false representation of myself I had presented to the world because of the faulty expectations lies, religion and abuse had placed on me. I had fears, insecurities, wounds, false understandings about the achievement of holiness ingrained in my being. And all of these things are falling away in the midst of a love that essentially came from behind, softly, demanding nothing, and giving everything, affirming the beauty of who I am. </p>
<p>Sometimes, we get so used to the grave clothes of our pain that we forget they are just garments which can be shed. We get used to the depressive darkness of our tomb, and the light without begins to feel like a fairytale. We feel like an imposter when we embrace our beauty and life, and when the fruit of the Spirit begins to flow effortlessly, we wonder when the “old” us will surface and ruin it all. </p>
<p>But what if it doesn’t need to reappear? What if it has no power in and of itself? What if we are resurrected in our in-Christ-ness, without everything that hinders. What if we are not being refined into something useful so much as our true state of being is being revealed? What if I am truly who Love says I am? What if lies are just lies, and the only sin I have ever been guilty of is believing the great lie that connection with my Maker is tenuous and more heavily dependent on the attitude of the the created one, than the sovereign decision of the Creator. </p>
<p>The truth about me, is that I am not in the grave. And I never have been. My grave clothes are a strong illusion, but only an illusion, and there is no stone I have not rolled over the door of my being. I can come out anytime. And once I let myself out, I am free to love others with the same open, honest, life affirming, ultimately revealing passion that I am being loved to understanding my wholeness in. </p>
<p>We have a choice. If we are truly alive, because He is Alive, our relationships should also reflect the beauty of that reality. We have been birthed out of the constant love and mutual enjoyment our Maker experiences within himself, so let’s embrace that same reality as we celebrate Christ in each other. As He is, dear one, Are you.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/62377972020-03-04T20:49:57-07:002020-03-05T00:00:43-07:00I am not as I have been<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/a001e3c54f027d7cfe03cb6a2e26d3fc2ca9051b/original/91c0fca1-ec71-4f36-af0f-30dd68183d3a.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I cannot go back. I can only go forward. Love is like that, I’ve found. It is always in constant motion. Preparation for the next step that often looks like loss, is providing open space for what is new and full of life. A relationship morphs and leaves one feeling bereft and then another comes and creates more understanding of wholeness than any other could possibly have done. And I am well. </p>
<p>The Maker not only moves cows, it seems, but people and families as well, to provide homes for the heart. </p>
<p>Changes in world view can prove challenging in the context of culture and family. It only takes a difference in perspective to cause division. One can read the same book, draw a different conclusion about its context, believe it to contain truth passionately, and yet be utterly wrong. The difficulty is that humans have been conditioned to read with an external template. We don’t search for truth, we judge it based on our cultural, religious, and personal experiential templates. Our assumption about the origins of our thoughts, and those in our community who may morph away from them in favour of a different paradigm create an innate tension. There is fear there… So many books have been written about the dangers of labelling a person, the ostracization, the mental health problems, the simple act of rejecting a person based on differing beliefs. </p>
<p>But if our beliefs are solid, and we are certain, why is the simple act of someone changing their mind so threatening? Why does it have the power to entirely destroy relational intimacy? Obliterate trust? Divide families? Why, under the pretext of understanding, does the line of questioning inevitably move into the realm of attempting to unconvert the one altered and regain their status as “one of us” instead of delving into what made them change in the first place. If they arrived at their conclusions after a point where want has always been done proved to them to be an epic failure at sustaining life or stimulating growth, and they have successfully changed into a more palatable human because of it, what are we not insanely curious? What changed? </p>
<p>We’ve all met that person who has a tale that could be titled “I am not as I have been.” Their story is most often a tale fraught with peril or adversity and laced with personal epiphanies. We hire them as motivational speakers for conventions and leadership conferences. Hold retreat weekends with them in hopes that their vibrancy and way of life will rub off on us and we too will become shiny. But when such an individual rises from our own ranks, we carefully cordon ourselves off from them and find they are radical and dangerous. O, the irony! We would rather maintain our doldrums and status quo and our traditions, hang on to our beliefs as though they are God himself, and not a system of ideology based on man’s interpretation of them (this can also apply to cultural and political connections), than find out what it was that brought about such marked change in one who was once so close and agreeable. Because, heaven forbid, I cannot explore, let alone agree, because I have already declared my allegiance to another line of thought. </p>
<p>We forget that at the beginning of religious and cultural shifts, there have always been forerunners of a questionable nature. What you consider to be ancient thought, true ancient thought would find to be untested and in its infantile stages. Truth may not change, but our perspective on it may. Religion and science have long been a balance to each other, provoking exploration. It stands to reason that as we grow more connected in our world, the fields of study will also begin to overlap, giving solid evidence for that which was at one time a mystical stymie. Even Spiritual experiences have become the fodder of studious examination, because the inexplicable, or miraculous begs for definition. Humanity, in this post religious scientific era, is once again exploring the metaphyisical. We want to know. </p>
<p>Inquiring minds want to know. And why do I bring that up? Man, created in the image of God, who created us, and knows all things and gave us unlimited access, not only to his life but his mind, wants to journey into all truth and know and be known by the Maker. It is within our make-up to search the deep things of God, to desire not the hypothetical abstract truth, but the workable, interactive reality consciousness and awareness bring to life. </p>
<p>If a car stops working, we replace it. If a dishwasher ceases to function, we replace it. If an animal dies, we bury it, and let it go. If a friendship or a marriage becomes dysfunctional, we either attempt to change its patterns or let it go. If we cannot physically or mentally get well, we subject ourselves to both diagnosis, and treatment, and often change our location to hospitalization in order to become well. We may even change habits and lifestyle to maintain the level of wellness we acquire during the period of healing. When two people of different cultures begin personal or working relationships, they may have to compromise, or leave components of their upbringing in order succeed at remaining connected. </p>
<p>Why, then, is it so unbelievable that one may need to change one’s perspective on God, or Spiritual life in order to become well? If the religious template is not a functional model producing life as it advertises, but there is still a desire to remain connected to the Deity one claims faith in, why is it almost worse to change how one reads a book than it would be if one denied there was any truth in it at all? Why are the consequences of spiritual exploration so severe? Especially, if one begins to see results. How can belief that did not serve a person, only wounded them further and made them feel innately defeated, now let go, and replaced with the fruit of the Spirit and the abundant, joyful life preached by both Christ and Paul, be so dangerous that the traditional statement of faith is allowed to trump intimate relationships. </p>
<p>It should be possible to leave religion, keep God, and keep the Bible. To be tied to the Bible, only as it is currently viewed by the religious sect you adhere to is to replace a free range Creator with a dried out, boxed version, with less free will than the beings he created. What if in this day, God is doing a new thing, that truly will be truth that sets free the captives, and your adherence to tradition has you in a holding pattern. </p>
<p>You won’t know if you label before you look. You won’t, you can’t. If what you have doesn’t feel like freedom, and someone you know is talking, walking, and living differently, and it looks like freedom, ask them them questions like they are a motivational speaker at a conference. Even if they are your family. You may find, that in the changes of their life are the desired goals of your own. And you may also find that growth, of all kinds, has an uncomfortable, untraditional beginning. Unless a grain of wheat fall to the ground, and DIE, it will bare no fruit. No one wants to whither. And what if we have always believed a lie. What if? </p>
<p>I am not as I have been. Are you?</p>
<p> </p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/62140852020-02-13T10:07:56-07:002023-11-07T05:53:32-07:00Love Wisely, and Too Well <p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/6f77f0a8c639735b5bf8e7c8258279db6cd6aaaf/original/fullsizeoutput-1262.jpeg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>It’s February. </p>
<p>Hearts and flowers. </p>
<p>Love spelled out </p>
<p>in awkward hours. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A day set up </p>
<p>in celebration </p>
<p>Of a single word </p>
<p>in a context bold. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But what of those </p>
<p>who now grow old </p>
<p>in love grown cold </p>
<p>alone? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Single is such a lonely word. And a free word. It doesn’t have to be an alone word, but context makes it so. Every event, it seems is designed for the sharing of it. And let’s face it, even having the possibility of a someone who might just stay for a while makes spending time in the community of couples a bearable experience, for one day, it might be you. </p>
<p>And falling in love is fun. The crush, the butterflies, the constant texting, the feeling of being wanted and necessary. The temporary overriding of good sense… loving, perhaps, not wisely, but too well (I think I’ve borrowed that from Shakespeare). Loving too well: the act of investing oneself entirely from the onset of a relationship, regardless of repercussions. </p>
<p>You know, I don’t think I do anything by halves. I tend to be present in all experiences and relationships. My immediate moments are my focus… unless I am trying to fall asleep, and then tomorrow’s list, or all I should do instead of taking this nap, loom like an adrenaline inducing weather emergency, but I digress. I rather invest myself in relationships, and people, and nothing so upsets my apple cart, as limbo. Commitment isn’t scary, and choosing to love someone isn’t difficult. Letting someone love me isn’t at all awful either, though, I have found that it is a catalyst for some uncomfortable but necessary healing. So many people would say that working on oneself while you are single is what makes your next relationship more successful than the last. It’s true, but there is something to be said for the process of learning in a relationship as well, no matter how long or short. The things that chafe us in another person, friend or lover, usually do so for a reason and taking a moment or two to understand why, could be the sense in the senseless heartbreak of a good bye. </p>
<p>There are no useless relationships. Loving someone too well will always lead to one’s own growth if it is allowed to do so. Human refinement happens in community. It may begin in the isolation of self reflection, but I put it to you, that it is hypothetical healing until the muscle of the heart is put into training. It is the beautiful thing about the interconnected reality of the world. Some might call it the universal body of Christ… others, simply the Universe. However one may need to see it, at the core of Life itself is the Source of Love. It is the energy that spoke us into being. It cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred. And therefore, using it never runs a deficit. </p>
<p>If I feel used up by a person, there was something grossly unhealthy about the relationship, and my own boundaries were in places that did not reflect the value I have as a person. If this is true, I could have loved too much, but not wisely. The wisdom is not in the choice of who we love, as much as it is in how we love ourselves. If this is done properly, two things will happen: we will choose to allow into our deepest being, people who have a right to be there, if only for a time and a purpose, and we will grieve changing or severed relationships without having to form a hatred for someone who has let us down. Each of us is as human as the other. Our pasts overlap into our present, and relationships are messy. But the key to seeing other people accurately, is getting to know where the windows we look at them through are cracked, foggy, or dirty on our side of the glass. When things hurt, allow them to reveal why. And embrace yourself. Too often, we fail to do this, and become our own worst enemy. It’s ok not to like our actions and desire to change, especially to realize that our poor behaviour is the result of unhealed wounds. But don’t hate the vessel. Your design is perfect. My design is perfect. The healing of wounds when we choose to lean in instead of pulling away tends to clean both sides of the window, and the design begins to gleam and shine without inhibition. </p>
<p>The greatest Valentine we could ever have, is at the very core of our own Being. The very Source of life. The One to whom we are the perfect manifestation of many pleasant thoughts. Out of this Source, we live, move, heal and love. For these things, there are endless resources. There is no love lost, only love allowed to flow. And like fresh water, it perpetually cleans and provides life. </p>
<p>I want to love both wisely and well. As a part of a family, as a friend, and as a lover. But none of this can be done in isolation, and it will never happen if I hold myself back from attempting depth in my relationships. It will also never happen if I never try. I am not so much putting myself out there, as choosing to engage in the present, whatever it may be. When a river of love flows from the core of my being, knowing another human, and myself within the context of that relationship is Valentine’s day. Giving the gift of my authentic being is not ever a waste. And wounds heal. One might even say that love relationships are the gift the Maker gives to reveal the people he imagined. We look so good, in love…</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/60712792020-01-08T15:28:21-07:002021-04-21T11:07:48-06:00Blueprints and Butterflies<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/77a9a23f795a4c3c09d2c57806800cd2fbcd26ea/original/the-singles-party.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>There are things I hate, I end up doing. </em></p>
<p><em>Things I wanna do, I just don’t do. </em></p>
<p><em>Lord it seems so sad, why am I so bad? </em></p>
<p><em>When in my heart, I only wanna be like you? </em></p>
<p><em>~ Keith Green </em></p>
<p>When a Psalmist sings, their perspective and circumstances frame temporal misery as truth. It’s not really how it needs to be, it’s just how it feels right now. </p>
<p>This Psalmist despaired over the family ridden Christmas season. Everywhere else, there is such freedom, such noticeable change due to significant healing. But, there… I became this person, entirely unrecognizable. It was terrifying and excruciating. I was surrounded by people but entirely disconnected, and emotionally void. I’ve never felt like I fit into the rhythm of my family of origin, and leaving behind a theology they still share hasn’t contributed to family unity. The first year, there were arguments which have now been replaced by subtly nuanced overtly pointed statements I choose not to go to war over in front of my children. For a few years now I had thought that I was just raw from the trauma of recent years; feeling single and grieving lost friendships due to theological shifts. But that feeling is as old, it seems, as life itself, that distance and lack of connection. And knowing who I am in the Great I Am seems to do little to keep the void from swallowing me up, and I find myself retreating to the cocoon of my home across town. </p>
<p>It’s ridiculous, I’ve never been so well in my life, and yet, here I am, fetal position, leaking out of every orifice, and wondering why it’s not enough to have made the effort to heal, affirmed my existence according to God’s opinion of me, gotten the outside perspective of wise friends and counsellors on my healing journey. I know that what is swirling around the inside of my skull is not flowing out of the Mind of Christ, and yet I cannot stop it. </p>
<p>Why am I so prickly around my family? I love them. We’ve worked through as much baggage as we can without them changing their world view. They’ve told me they love me. Very practically supported me in my journey as a single again parent. I’m ok for a little while. When the topic is light, and mostly about the kids, and then… I feel myself go sullen, as though I am closed off. Numb. I become an observer. It’s palpable. I’m not bitter, I just seem to have found the valve to shut off my natural flow. A headache ensues and I wish to retreat into sleep. Every time. I even wake up perfectly well and optimistic, and then I shrivel. I could lie and say my extrovert got tired, but really, this is the version of me my family saw the most growing up, and they saw it enough that if I was happy, I was called plastic and they were sure it wouldn’t last. So quite possibly, my psyche is protecting itself. </p>
<p>I’m quite secure really. Everywhere but here. So what’s the issue. I’ve always been this way here. I suppose I could abandon ship and stay on the surface with these people, and let every family gathering send me to bed. I have enough tools to cope. But, that’s not optimum. And besides, is it ok to lose perspective on your identity with the one group of people who loves you the most? That was putting it nicely. I felt ostracized, alone, and entirely rejected. My understanding of myself was replaced with a black hole of nothingness. </p>
<p>Let’s be clear. I believe in healing. I believe in using personality typing quizzes. I believe in the use of affirmations. All of these things have made a tangible difference. What was becoming immensely clear was not that my family was refusing to see me as I had come to know myself, but that I was incapable of being her there. I was still acting out of a wound. I was scared. I was treating them like the enemy, not because they ever were, or because that was who I am… but because a fear of rejection seeded into my soul as a tiny baby inside my mother, vamping on her anxious emotion, long since repented of on a cognitive level, had pressed override on my default setting and my personality went into hiding. I couldn’t be myself, because I wasn’t securely aware of my own specific make up. My blueprint, my design - if only I could unearth that… But no one was there to ask about myself at that untouched stage. A person is a bit like an archaeological dig. We are revealed bit by bit, often in backwards layers. But what if we could ask what we were when we were a spark in the Maker’s imagination? Carefully designed and declared good. Would there be peace, in seeing, or finding that niche? </p>
<p>Who am I specifically? Why was I placed in that family? If we were all functioning out of the full glory of our being, what would my role be? How would my personality flow effortlessly into the spiritual unity of that first community? If only I had a way to see… </p>
<p>And then, light dispelled the gloom of the void. And I made a choice to consult the one who was there, and has given me all I need for life and godliness. I took a trip into the mind of Christ, and let silence facilitate presence. And I got to meet myself. Strange and wonderful. Pictures of butterflies and trees, explanations and understanding, peace bred of confidence from personal revelation. My understanding was no longer hypothetical, it was specific, and I saw myself before life and time made its mark. I really do belong here. And I am beautifully placed whether others find my giftings practically useful or not. That thought is like a key to peace, really, because being a person who has only acted out of her wounds, which tends to close a person off from true intimacy, I lived isolated from my family my whole life. The same resources put into me, which they needed, were also denied them. Consequently, they may never enjoy the full function of them unless their wounds are allowed to heal. Moreover, there is nothing to be gained by trying to be seen. I will be visible when those around me are ready. Until them, I am only pushing on painfully inflamed wounds, my good intentions creating their hell. </p>
<p>Subsequent to this freeing experience, I heard Kay Fairchild talk about “knowing thyself” in the context of turning within and embracing one’s true identity in the Christ mind. I would take it one more intimate step. Ask to see yourself in your original blueprint. Because if you are the manifestation of His many pleasant and perfect thoughts of you, it’s quite possible that embracing yourself as you were designed in a specific, non abstract sense could be the most healing experience you will ever have. Human trauma locks us away in a prison of our own making. It steals joy and freedom faster than any other experience. Walls of self protection come ready made and our prickly parts come out, pushing loved ones away when we need them. Many of the things the Maker showed me in the silence were things close friends have tried to tell me they see, but I could only ever half heartedly agree. But how do we argue with the one who dreamed us into being? </p>
<p>So, if there are things I hate, I end up doing, and things I want to do, I just don’t do. If I see myself as bad trying to be the good I know I am… Maybe it’s time to know myself well enough to go back to the factory setting. The default of Love expressed with my specific bent. The default of joyful, uninhibited, safe union with my Maker. To be divorced from the lies I have taken through life with me and experience the perfect marriage of my tangible being with my very real but intangible source, so that in me, the Christ might be manifest, and I might not so much bring him glory, as reflect that which he bestowed on me when He Called me Good. And, to happily sink myself into the community of His Body at Large. For we are not all hands or feet, some are hearts and guts, and knees and ankles, and hips. We are One, just as He and the Father are One. Togetherish in our at-oneness. Settled deep into the collective consciousness and mind of Christ. I am healed. I am also known. And seen. And designed flawlessly. Breathtaking. And now I know why drawing flowers and leafy trees, and pink butterflies has always made me feel centred. The Light was trying to get through! Ask Him. Don’t you want to know?</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/60289702019-12-18T11:33:43-07:002019-12-18T11:38:33-07:00Yellow<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/fc28b4372313af3f731a3ff0af0fdf6523e03dbc/original/yellow-2.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p><em>Yellow </em></p>
<p>Some days </p>
<p>Only yellow will do </p>
<p>to reflect the colour </p>
<p>in the heart. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Some days </p>
<p>only sparkle and cheer </p>
<p>on your face can appear </p>
<p>as a greeting. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Some days </p>
<p>Love has it’s way </p>
<p>and brightens the day </p>
<p>before it begins. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Some days </p>
<p>Some days </p>
<p>Some days </p>
<p>It’s not just the sun with a smile! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ever been loved so well you want to run and hide? Things get a little dicey when you start healing in layers, and you get close to one that you’re sure is gonna make the person run, and you start steeling yourself for the inevitable? It’s so easy to create distance and move to a cold place in your heart and just not feel. At the same time as you run and hide because it’s terrifying to be known in all your dark corners, you’re praying they dig long enough to see you. Because if they do, and they stay, you’re safe. You’ve found a love that will heal. </p>
<p>When a person has been deeply wounded, or touched by trauma, loneliness seems like a haven. No one can touch you there, solitude is like armour, you still hurt, but no one gets close enough to push on the wound, and you don’t see the volatility of your state of being. When you start to come out of your cocoon, it’s easy to seek out relationships with people who need you more than they love you. There’s an empathetic wisdom that springs out of pain, and in a world traumatized by life itself, people gravitate to this cozy beacon of light. It is easy, in this space, where experiential wisdom keeps enough people at a shallower depth in their healing journey in your immediate circle, to see your healing as complete. </p>
<p>And then love comes. A love you need. A love you crave. A love that sees and stays. A love the lies are illuminated by and begin to lose their power in the exposure of. Love. The place where the Human and the Divine intersect, and the truth of who one is comes out. Identity thrives in love. </p>
<p>And I am learning that true love asks questions. I have long understood that it calls one up into who they are as it pertains to spirit. The mystery of the moment that has me in yellow is the reality that a human loving a human can be to the body and soul what Spirit is to spirit… and that the one has a definite influence, even an interwoven connection to the other. Biblically speaking, the hands and feet of Christ are one human to another expressing love. </p>
<p>The lie embedded in all religions is that a separation between God and man must be overcome by abandoning self in favour of surrender of person, and then adoption of principles and habits that bring about self control, and thus, a place for Spirit to live can begin. This dualism pervades earth’s culture as well. When we assess whether or not someone fits in our lives, we do a behavioural checklist and what that person refuses to compromise on becomes something we either choose to live with, or make a decision to abandon the relationship based on. Things are very black and white. Anyone with trauma will tell you that their behaviour is often a coping mechanism to create a feeling of safety when there is no tangible context for it. As a lover, and a healer, this checklist system then is faulty. My bad behaviour is a fear gauge, not a rebellion indicator. On a very personal level, I have experienced this one. </p>
<p>Trauma leaves a person with two things: boundaries, and passionate conviction about specific injustice. In someone who has not yet begun their healing journey this manifests most often, as a string of toxic relationships that make the pain worse and the scarring deeper, or, isolation, and, a volatile anger. In someone who has engaged in the healing process, but has minimal consistent relational support in the journey, those who walk through it with them often experience sudden outbursts of passion that look angry, self protection, actual healthy boundaries that don’t make sense from the outside, and what looks like unforgiveness because there is a stark refusal to engage in what looks to be harmless, but is actually a trigger. And then there is the person who heals in a place where love confronts these poor behavioural patterns and bravely asks, “What are you afraid of, right now, in this moment?” And then stays to hear the answer, holds that lovable person through the tears, and assures them of their perpetual presence. There is an encouragement in this last experience, to be who you are, and let the scar itself heal. To accept the inner peace, and construct healthy boundaries, and not feel the need to defend them, because you know there is a gate in the wall around the sacred garden of soul and spirit, that love can open at will, but still protects you when there is real danger. In short, this healing space reveals the value of the person, encouraging the view in the mirror to accurately reflect the intrinsic beauty on an increasing scale. To see love as the default setting, rather than the coping mechanisms made outside its protective state of being. </p>
<p>I recently had someone very dear witness a poor response, and I was asked what it was I was afraid of. The emotional aftermath that led to a spiritual healing moment began to unravel the part of the story still unhealed in my being that kept the walls up around my heart. It was as though the tears that fell in the telling of the story eroded the superb masonry I’d put up to protect me, and I began to see, in the light of love, how unnecessary self protection was. It felt so good to be understood, and still loved, that elation followed. I began to heal from the wound around that experience… </p>
<p>And then. I retreated. I didn’t even see it coming. But a lie, an old lie… a shadow of death in the canyon of the heart rose to the surface and the instinct to run, which for me, looks a lot like shutting off my heart and putting distance between myself and the person by disengaging in honest relationship and withholding my deepest being in case they see through me and decide to run, and inevitable loss comes. Why? Because that heinous lie is specifically that if people really knew me, they wouldn’t stay. And this person seems to be able to see right through me, just like I do with others, and that is nerve wracking and fearsome. So, my self protection: don’t attach. Don’t need. Be self sufficient. </p>
<p>This is a horrible place to love someone from, by the way. Everything they do is suspect. You start watching for them to fail. You analyze their silences, the delay in the messages. You feel guilty about your own behaviour. Suddenly you are completely unworthy of them. Support they give you in life makes you feel like you are a burden. In short, it makes you feel like they must see you as a boil on their backside they wish they could be rid of, but they committed to you, the irritation. O, the monkey circus in your brain will have you breaking up with friends, lovers, spouses, family members and work relationships. </p>
<p>And the only cure for this is to stay and let someone love you. To be held, to accept the beauty they see in you as truth. To engage in the relationship, and accept the hands and feet of the Divine are in that person. The vision they have of you is a reality you have forgotten and need to be reminded of. That by accepting love from them, you are reciprocating, because it is only rejection that stops the flow. And choose the yellow. The smile. It’s not fake. It is you in your truest state of being. The default setting of a human being is secure and unthreatened identity based in Love. Poor behaviour is fear made manifest, and because humans are spirit, the soul and flesh wounds are healing. Love does win. It wins a lot faster when we choose to revel in it. Be who you are. So whole heartedly, that even your clothes stop making depressing choices.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/60039572019-12-11T10:55:23-07:002019-12-11T15:50:29-07:00Why Wait?<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/c5f9b2eff0569f3cfceb7e55d100ea67b247e72e/original/why-wait-a-blog-post-by-melissa-rempel.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p>A woman prayed in a temple in Jerusalem for the advent of a Deliverer. The aromas of sacrifices and incense carried on the breeze a reminder of the pregnant pause the Jews were experiencing in their worship at the time, and the oppressive atmosphere of a captive nation. She knew those around her cried for freedom from the tangible hold Rome had on Israel, but her heart knew the One to Come, Son of the Ageless One, would know the true Avenue of Liberty was one of inner understanding and peace, not the physical breaking of chains in a political sense. She had learned to go within. Learned to see with the eyes of her heart. Anna was already present in the kingdom when she and Simeon met a baby born in Bethlehem. The arrival of Jesus, Emmanuel, perfect representation of the Father in human manifestation was recognized, not because he wore a halo, but because Anna had been with the Father enough to see with His Faith Eyes, the Christ. When Love meets Love, uninhibited, there is a knowing. </p>
<p>There are many characters in the Christmas story, but Anna, and, Simeon, prophets whose eyes had been waiting to lay hold of the picture of humanity’s redemption, something obvious to them without witnessing his death, are on my mind this season. Their roles seem so small and insignificant, but they aren’t. They are the hint that before the subsequent events of life and death, Humanity was already delivered. We were about to find out how to move from being sanctified, to participating in our salvation. Waiting wasn’t wasted, but they knew the waiting was over. In Christ was the freedom and the power to live. </p>
<p>So why is this woman thinking about Anna? Because the freedom to live was already granted. Because Messiah has already come. Because my christian brothers and sisters are sitting immobilized in their own pregnant religious pause, fasting, and praying and… waiting, for their deliverer to come and set the world to rights. They are waiting for kingdom come, when the Kingdom of God is within them, waiting to be free to move, and set the world to rights through them. I am not talking about crusades and laws and picket lines, and social justice campaigns, though many of those causes are righteous. I am speaking of the manifestation of Love that sees only humans, not categories and walls. The fruit of the Spirit, against which there are no laws, bringing about the Peace of Christ. </p>
<p>I long to hear songs, hymns and spiritual songs… confession of sin to one another, leading to identity understood and defeated insecurity. We are seeing visions and dreaming dreams, but instead of rising up and moving with Spirit, we pray and wait. But freedom will not come thus… He who has ears to hear: “the Kingdom of God is: within you, at hand.” “You have everything you need for life and godliness.” “ You will do greater things than these.” </p>
<p>Who do we think these phrases were aimed at, the great cloud of witnesses we will some day join? No. The power to be who we are is within us in the ever present now. Sadly, however, they sit like gifts under a Christmas tree marked “unsafe in human hands unless opened in heaven.” Health, abundance, grace, sustenance, life, hope, peace, freedom… all derivatives of love, all our inheritance from the foundation of the world. We were not created lacking, we were created in the very mind of the Maker, who looked out through the eyes of those into whom he breathed his very spirit upon and called it GOOD. </p>
<p>Good. The default setting of humanity. Humans acting in a an inhumane fashion are functioning, not out of secure identity, but out of fear. If you take issue with this, and prefer to see the fall as a curse rather than a loss of spiritual awareness and true identity, I can understand. All around you are people behaving in reprehensible, selfish, uncaring ways. We are fluent, it seems, in the universal languages of rage and hate. Fear breeds more fear. But, Love. I ask you what happens when we demonstrate to someone previously without the companionship and healthy connection of relationship, Love. Children adopted later in life, toddlers in a rage, comforted and held. Abused and abandoned souls with validation of their pain and experience. My own angry heart when asked what I currently fear. </p>
<p>What happens to a person when we begin with Love and move out from there? This is the default setting of humanity. Our Maker, who does does change, declared it at our inception. Our choosing the religion of attempting to reach the One who is within us by externally chasing him in endless doing instead of being, has done our entire race a disservice. It has left us waiting for the Messiah who has already come to save us from our sin and despair, and reveal Life and Love to us, to do a repeat and grand reentrance of a world already given all it needs. </p>
<p>So pray… thankful, as children set to receive favour already granted, not beggars outside the gate. Because he is not just our Healing, but our Health. Not the path to peace, but Peace Himself, within us. Not the coming King, but the Kingdom within. Not love that will conquer all, But Love that has Finished it. Let us stop declaring undone what He has done. Set your own world right. Look within. Sit down inside and embrace the perfect manifestation of His many pleasant thoughts that you are. Revel in it. Enjoy it. Embrace not just the Christ, but your place in Him who holds all things together. Choose to see the One who has come, and stop waiting for later. The earth may not feel like home, but the Maker of the Universe is. So rest, enter your rest through the eyes of your mind. Let the mind of Christ dwell richly in you. </p>
<p>The way of Jesus was to point us to the Father, to do all the things we see the Father doing. I see my Father, owning all the cows, moving them from pasture to pasture. I see him providing for thousands from a few loaves and fish. I see him toppling strongholds and bringing freedom. I see him allowing Jesus to die because we couldn’t understand his love without it, and making him once again alive in Christ because that is our own identity and we needed a tangible example of an intangible reality. I see him healing the sick and oppressed and raising the dead. And in all of this, I never saw him wonder when he acted, in the person of Jesus, if doing these things were the will of the Father. Love seems to want to heal, and bring life abundant. In the present. Jesus never said to anyone: you’re going to be out of pain when you die, keep toughing it out slugger. No. He healed and restored, body, mind, and spirit. He redefined identity for those who had it wrong. In this we are joint heirs. Why then do we ask as those who have no hope? The kingdom of God is within us. </p>
<p>So why wait? Why not embrace this in the ever present now. This advent season, celebrate with Anna and Simeon, who looked in the face of the one who was to come, and now is… NOW IS. God with us. Emmanuel. Eternal One. God of the moment… There is no maybe later. We are met in the present by the I am, in whom we are. A reality we must choose to see.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/59486262019-11-03T21:15:58-07:002022-04-21T10:21:24-06:00Sorting Humans<p>Reflections on the process of dating… or Sorting Humans. And yes, I’m a girl, so if you want to know what exactly a woman might want, well, give me five minutes. It’s a game, I think. And there are no rules. Honestly, I’m not sure if I wish there were… It’s just, well, dating after divorce feels a little like I’m sorting through humanity at a rummage sale. Too many variables. What were they last washed with? Bleach, Starch, Fabric Softener, Vinegar, The kind of detergent that makes the next person break out in hives because someone forgot to rinse. Or, Heaven forbid, they’re still in the package. When you’re in your 20’s that is sweet relief, when you know how you’ve aged, you wonder why they never had the opportunity. Was there an inherent flaw in their make-up? What does it say about me that I actually want to know all of of these details. All humans are messy. Birth to death we are. Things happen to us. Money ebbs and flows, jobs, cars, accidents, surprising weather anomalies. People happen to us. Some stay, some go. Parents, kids, family, friends, significant others of a pre or post spousal quality. Some we watch unfold, some are surprising. All are part of existence. Some are habit forming to our benefit, others to our detriment. My Father says that by 40, a person is pretty much as they will be. I suppose he’s right. I’ve found a lot of myself that I’m rather attached to, and some things I’m attached to because of personal components I want to keep using. And maybe that’s why I don’t so much wish there were rules, as a pledge to be honest in the first interview (date). You see, I want to know what parts of you are not negotiable. Attraction is a wonderful thing to mess around with. Feels so very cushy right around the heart zone. But really, who is looking for mush that can’t last? I want someone to be clear with me. Do they want kids… more than they already have? Are they working a job they love? Is a person dating because he wants a spousal unit, or is it just a meandering through until I know too much about him for his comfort and it’s grow or go? This also changes how much I will put into things. At the risk of offence… Though I think it’s part of the sorting process, because understanding of money, its source and destination has a direct effect on a relationship: Can they afford to buy me dinner when they invite me out? There’s nuance to language there: If you are going to ask if you can buy me dinner… I expect it will be just that. I can safely leave my wallet at home. The same would apply for: taking, going to, or I know a place, would you like to come? I made reservations. Now, on the other hand, if you are asking me if I can meet you for dinner, or asking me to join a group of friends, clearly, I can expect to carry my own purse and dip into it. Now, Honey, that’s not very modern, wondering if he can afford to buy you dinner… Modern, let me tell you about modern. Modern for many people is already strained financially. Not every divorcee gets alimony, child support may not be adequate, and things at home may be difficult. Single parenting changes the game significantly. There is an ex in the mix who may not be making life simple, people don’t usually divorce a nice guy or girl. So what is she really asking? Are you able to make my life more stable? Are you aware I might not be able to go dutch on lobster without going food bank on tomorrow’s dinner? I don’t think anyone is asking for lavish or extravagance at this point, we just want to know if our expectations for quality of life are sustainable in tandem. So if you can’t pay for a date, be clear on why no matter which party you are. If someone expects you to pay and your hackles go up because you’ve had a leech in your past, tell them. And for heaven’s sake, don’t pretend you have an affluence you’ve never known. And while we’re on touchy subjects, is there voiced definition to a relationship before intimacy is expected… wherever one might draw those lines (and where might they be, are they made of iron, dental floss, or rubber bands?). If they are crossed inadvertently over the course of the casual beginning of a relationship, can assumptions be made, or is an uncomfortable conversation going to ensue? Did previous relationships leave you with insecurities we are going to need to deal with. Do you know of these already, or is it your maiden voyage into new relationships, and the element of surprise applies to both of us. If it is sensed that I have more insight into relationships than you do, is that intimidating, or helpful. Dang it, friend, are you actually looking for love? Because if you are, let’s chat, about all the things. Jobs, dreams, religion, politics, the beauty in the world, its scarred and ugly underbelly, food, grandparents, crazy parents, wild exes, tame ones that bored you to death. We’re too old to date faces. Let me know why yours should become the dearest one to me. I don’t care really, where you find me… dating app, neighbourhood bar, seedy establishment, instagram, Facebook, school pick-up, church, or running from church. TALK TO ME. Liking a photo isn’t enough. For all I know you collect pretty faces and stare at them on your lunch break. If you met me at the grocery store you wouldn’t poke me and walk away, you’d at least pretend you don’t know a ripe avocado from a green one. Any number of acquaintances can tell me my smile caught their eye. I want to know why you want to make it roll across my face like an ocean wave. Good grief… Even if I decide I don’t like you, at least it will be because I know you enough to have made a decision… and you can do the same for me. P.S. This really is the only way strangers become friends, anyway… so however we meet people, maybe we should be ourselves from the get go. Nothing divides so well as a lie. Of that, I am certain. The true rule of dating: be honest. If you lie from the get go, it gives it away that you think the other person is doing it too. Might as well turn off the lights and dance barefoot on a floor of nails if that’s your plan.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/59404292019-10-27T08:48:20-06:002019-11-28T18:14:06-07:00Sudden Winter<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/55ba6a73d0e7730d0f846b2942487112166bda02/original/sudden-winter-a-blog-post-by-melissa-remp.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I’ve walked past it so many times… a rose whose bloom is off, stolen by the snow, frozen in time. The petals still cling though they are faded, dry and weather-worn. The sudden onset of winter stole her life, and when it backed away to let fall play, she shrivelled from exposure. Today, the sun hit the petals, and once again, the beauty of her stole my breath. In this condition, a rose, is still a rose. What a difference light makes. </p>
<p>Humans are so similar. Life steals our breath. Trauma happens to us in circumstances we could not foresee. Anxiety over the consequences of our own actions takes off with our focus and vitality. Regret and grief like a pair of thieves robs us of joy. Worry and fear are like sudden frost, cutting short our colourful display, muting our beauty. Our shape, form, and structure remain, but the life source can no longer make it to our extremities. We shrivel. One might say, we die. Become a shell. </p>
<p>I am so thankful that the One who illuminates the soul also casts his gaze through other faces. If the sun hadn’t shone just so, I would not have seen the rose. If the trauma had not happened exactly in the order it came, petals would have fallen off. Only the rose hip would remain. And she would not have captured my attention. Nature was frozen in her course… by her self. </p>
<p>I recently behaved in a way so contrary to my general responsible self that I was frozen in anxiety. My whole body went on edge. It was like my brain was terrified of what I might do next. Voices in my head took over the silence terror created there, and I felt helpless to shut them off. I looked in the mirror… nothing had changed except my pallor and my eyes. Tension ruled the moment. I felt so lost. Not even tears would come to escort me out. </p>
<p>I learned something in the moment I was unlocked. My response had so little to do with the action of the day, and everything to do with past trauma. I had behaved so contrary to who I know myself to be that I was shocked. And then I thought about why. What lie had I acted on to trigger not just the initial trespass against myself, but the aftermath of self condemnation? </p>
<p>With the rose, the light highlighted both beauty and the reality of its lifeless appearance. In the kindness of conversation with a friend, I was so unveiled. It was as though a part of me the Light could not reach from within was suddenly flooded from without and I could see. I had long believed I was not enough. A lie told in my childhood, reinforced in my teen and adult relationships, had been buried deep and hidden, unable to heal. An external template for behaviour had never given it a voice louder than a whisper, but it had subtly been ruling my life. Somewhere in the shift of my theology and world view, I shed the template. Expectations of myself in that area became a grey area. I knew where the collective I had left placed a boundary, but I didn’t know where my own worth and person needed it to be for my wellbeing. My discomfort with where I landed was not the result of guilt. It was with knowing that I didn’t value myself enough to protect my own wellbeing, or the others in my world. </p>
<p>The religion I have left would have me self deprecate at this point in my unveiling. I would not have healed. I would have done penance instead. And I would have lost the joy of living and become afraid of myself. I would have retreated and called it sanctification. A choice for holiness. But really… what I needed was the reminder that my identity is unchanged. I am still loved, still beautiful, still without blemish. The unhealed wound lied. The unhealed wound was able to dictate behaviour. The unhealed wound screamed for validation of self that true identity had never been allowed to give. The ability to not put myself in danger, to set healthy boundaries, stems from a proper view of self, illuminated by the Source, the Maker, the Designer. The unravelling of my mistake led to healing. I would not have come by it any other way. </p>
<p>What is strange to me in this process, was that I would have extended more grace to someone else. It is easy to see another’s failures in the context of their life as the expression of their trauma. All the other flowers in my garden faced decay too… not just the rose was frozen in time. Its behaviour wasn’t unexpected. I could see the garden, it was all only the shell of former glory. </p>
<p>There is a mess in our humanity. Trauma leaks out in our life patterns. If it didn’t, there wouldn’t be so many books on coping with stress, or life with narcissists, or surviving abuse without losing yourself. Western culture sees the pain, and thrusts a formula for victory over our roadblocks at us as though learning how to jump and sidestep triggers is a foolproof method for avoiding the repercussions of living in a minefield. It can’t. In fact, it is backwards. The pain is the flag over the live wire. If we’re going to be safe when we dig, we have to know the source of it. </p>
<p>The only fool proof way to approach the others in my life safely is for me to be willing to heal myself. I must become the person who allows another to shine the light on my dark places until I realize I have a light of my own. I must embrace, not the anxiety, but the root of it, with the same grace I would someone else’s pain, and allow it to run its course. And I must let go. The things that cause be to behave badly are not my identity. They are experiences. They wounded my soul, but cannot touch my spirit, and deep in my spirit is the set apart me, the vital existence, the breath of the Maker. Source. Out of that place, my true self rises. Out of that place, I am not subject to the need to overcome the lies spoken over me by broken people, trauma, and injury to ego. I can choose to manifest the grace of that space, not just to others, but also to myself. For I am Love and Light. Warmth enough to heal the effects of sudden winter.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/59272102019-10-15T10:13:31-06:002019-10-15T10:13:31-06:00Label Maker<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/43edc9afe98fd1173374418b1fc12a915b8dc644/original/label-maker.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>“Stay away from people who make you feel hard to love.” </p>
<p>Social media is great with the advice. It pops up out of every corner… What did we do before platitudes and witticism came in fancy backgrounds or humorous photos, or the ever serious black and white that looks valid and authoritative? Which conversations do we no longer need when encouragement comes in a well timed word pill that makes us feel good. After all, we can paint others as toxic, dangerous, narcissistic, gaslighter, abusive, hater, and definitely, not part of our tribe. Neat Box. Tidy assumption. Label. </p>
<p>Or, are they just wounded. Unhealed. Afraid. And is it easier to brand someone else and cut them out than it is to find out why I am threatened by their presence in my life? Some of these people really have been let close enough to my heart to wound me. Some of those wounds are still stitched up with PTSD. I can no longer trust that person. I do understand the need for distance, even a life without a certain individual. </p>
<p>But is staying away a road to healing? Or is it an escape route along which I form a version of myself that is ever cautious, afraid of love, running from people? </p>
<p>Because I have grown up in a culture that thrives on the specific definition of identity and roles: the need to know where one fits in the template of life, I have found it easy to both accept the labels and dole them out. But how much of the expectation I place on others to behave a certain way is there because my own boundaries are unclear to me. Boundaries are tricky… if we don’t know who we are, they are emotional land mines. </p>
<p>I think that is why a statement like “stay away from people who make you feel hard to love” is such a thought trigger for me. Feel. My kids make me feel hard to love. My kids make me feel disrespected. Unheard. They make me feel like I don’t even have a voice sometimes. And when I behave as though these feelings are true, I become extremely difficult to love. I yell, I discipline emotionally, the element of surprise comes out in how I treat doors, how I walk. I feel afraid that they don’t see me as “the mama” and I want them to feel fear. It’s not even conscious. And then I see them repeat my actions. Mirror them. Am I raising monsters? No. But I am provided with a rather prevalent picture of what living out of my fears instead of my innate being produces. Their temporarily expressed opinion of me, largely based on their contrary desires at the time has been allowed to dictate my actions. When I base my boundaries on those feelings, I don’t leave space for me or my children to grow and change. I make rules that are unreasonable. Consequences I later don’t have the heart to follow through on. I become rash and inconsistent. And I hate how I sound. </p>
<p>Have you ever tried to set or change the tone of a relationship? I think of the vows we make at weddings. The contracts we sign when we take jobs. The treaties between nations. Clearly laid out expectations of behaviour based on a reasonable understanding of what one is capable of bringing to the table. We see the beauty, the worth, the design, the specific skill set, the good, and call it to rise. My favourite employers have been those who have seen my strengths and let me use them. Human beings shine best when we are truly seen. Manifestation is brought about by observation. But that which someone else sees in me cannot truly manifest until I embrace the good and beauty in myself. That is not based on behavioural assessment. It is based on my understanding of my design. </p>
<p>If someone else can trigger a sense of unworthiness in me, I believe not truth, but a lie, and it is I who need to be healed and made whole. My default is not be coping mechanisms, my default is how I am made manifest by the One who observed me first, and knows I am not difficult to love. I cannot know myself well independent of my Maker. I think this is the difference between healing and coping. Modern therapy often equips one for the latter. It places an external template which tempers the soul and depends on the will to overrule emotional response. It makes one feel they are in control. But it also quite often places the boundaries on the stimulus, rather than the person affected. Healing takes my poor response, makes me ask what the fear is attached to it, traces the fear back to the lie, and replaces it with the truth of what my Maker, my Father, my Life Breath, even the Universe, if you will, says about me. </p>
<p>My true self cannot be touched by that which does not give life for it is in union with Life itself. And this is also true of those I have slotted into tidy behavioural files. </p>
<p>Some have said forgiveness frees the heart that forgives to live, and isn’t for the other person in the experience at all. I beg to differ. If choosing to see is the key to manifestation, then choosing to see a person who has wounded me, in their true light, is key to leaving them space to change. One made for love, who believes that to be an innate design, cannot see another as anything but love. If I can heal from my wounds… a process fuelled by the Source if Life, then anyone else can. People are not toxic. Or narcissistic. Or hard to love. Their behaviour that results from wounds that are not healed, is. </p>
<p>Should we take on a steady diet of eroding friendships? No. And we won’t if our boundaries are healthy. But nor should we be afraid of a person who cannot see themselves as the Manifestation of the many pleasant thoughts of their Maker. Choose to see the person underneath the scars. It may not change how frequently you intentionally cross paths with them, but it may change your intention toward them. And thoughts have power. Thoughts became words that spoke your existence, and that same Life Breathing Spirit has put the collective consciousness in you. Sit down in that peace today, and look at yourself and others with different perspective. No one can make you feel anything. They can only validate what you have accepted as truth, and now resonates in tandem on a vibrational level. Let the vibration of love resonate. Put the label maker away. I was made for Love, you were made for Love. We were made to Love each other.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/59210692019-10-09T13:48:36-06:002019-10-09T13:48:36-06:00Lights<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/c107bd53b373afdccf6e03b060a183e5073cafb0/original/add-a-subheading.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>It isn’t Christmas. It hasn’t even been Thanksgiving yet, but I turned the lights on this morning. They were caked in sticky snow and looked like a Christmas card anyway, so I let them shine. Breakfast conversation turned to seasons, and my all wise son said it wasn’t actually winter… it’s still fall with just a little winter mixed in. He used his hands, intertwining to ensure I understood the concept. It is simple when you are eight. The calendar clearly says October. A month belonging to Autumn, not winter, therefore, the winter weather is out of place. Temporal reality and ultimate reality don’t match. Default to ultimate reality. </p>
<p>Things don’t seem so cut and dried with soul seasons. Most of the time it feels like there is no base line, let alone a default setting. There is only what I see and feel in this moment. I feel the need to turn on the lights and think the happy thoughts because the cold and snow that just blew in on last night’s wind has harshly hidden that which evidenced summer had preceded autumn, and in it, I was well. I suppose my neighbours may not catch the joy I felt turning on those lights… the decision to see the humour in our crazy climate. The rushing of the seasons the celebratory humans placed “in the bleak midwinter…” I find it interesting that there were celebrations at that time long before it was christianized. Humans need hope… we need things to cycle, dark days need to have something call an end to them. In the Chronicles of Narnia, the coming of Christmas signalled the beginning of the melt. Hope is part of the human story. </p>
<p>In a world that measures value in cost of replacement, and so often negates intrinsic worth or sentimental attachment, how do we measure how much of ourselves we can lose and still remain intact? Experience has been given permission to dictate identity in our western culture. That which really has no power has been given all the power. It fuels our indignant and self righteous responses, our victimhood, perpetuates racism and social inequality, religious division, and has trained us to only ever expect to cope and not to heal. </p>
<p>Humanity longs for connection. Ironically, that need is also the foundation of alienation. We spend our lives searching for even one person who can understand our story with a heart that lived it. We want our pain validated, our coping mechanisms celebrated, for we are survivors… and we desperately want to be accepted by a community of people with whom we can commiserate. But when we find it, we are again discontent, for the angst is still ours. The fear of being wounded again is still there, the shield stays up, and it is exhausting holding it up, daily painting on a mask to match. Even in connection is a disconnect. We placate ourselves with shallow understanding of soul seasons in this moment, assured that this will pass and the sun will shine again. We fake it until we make it. After all, everyone is not in my tribe. I can ditch the ones who are unsupportive. I can build my own circle. If your right hand offends you, cut it off. </p>
<p>Offence. Eastern culture is so different. I think it’s splendid. There is a balance to the flow, yin and yang, dark and light, working in tandem. A conversation moved in a direction that uncorked a train of thought for me recently. “Don’t be offended by this, but I think people in your culture are too easily offended.” My friend grew up rather east of here. I’m not sure she was expecting my response. I agreed. I still agree, and I think I should share why we have arrived at a place in western culture where even elections have become about periphery issues and small interest groups. It comes down to religion. Wait, you say, I am not religious, I don’t even believe in God! </p>
<p>True, but all cultures were founded on what they believe about the origin of man. Value is dictated by understanding of intrinsic worth. Our social and justice systems are formed on these principles. On an individual level, that core belief defines our understanding of personhood. Slots us in a niche, if you will. We have bought the lie that this perception of reality, combined with our experiences, is the formation of identity. </p>
<p>Western culture came out of a specific interpretation of the bible heavily influenced by the ideologies of those who paid tribute to gods like Molech and Zeus. It is very strong on the understanding of good and evil, and heaven and hell. Throughout history, those in power have used God as their validation for war, oppression and colonization. An understanding of “us” and “them” has heavily influenced a tendency to fear those who behave or believe differently than we do. We only feel safe and understood if those we are in discussion with agree with us by the end. </p>
<p>The influence of science may have somewhat successfully extracted the requirement for God to exist from our thinking, but the need to tidily organize and label people so we have a clear understanding of their roles and place in our world didn’t die. Instead of having our personal value dictated by a maker, (intrinsic identity) it is as though we are a culture of crustaceans, surrounding ourselves with like minded individuals who won’t rock our box and crack our veneer, making us vulnerable. We forever snap our crab claws at everyone else, protecting territory and habitually defending ideologies. None of us have stopped snapping long enough to realize we are all soft inside. Perhaps our true identity is in our sameness. </p>
<p>Imagine the implication of a culture formed around some of the modern schools of thought. the consequences to self worth, and the value of life, if: all life is accidental, a cosmic accident; we were created by a supreme being without desire for relationship at all; the god who made us is equally happy to destroy us if we don’t meet his standard as embrace us with love; or, god is truly sovereign, and all events on earth are not the result of love, but of perfect judgement. You can extrapolate where those might lead the collective. I foresee fear. And some mental health issues. </p>
<p>But what if… Spirit is Source. We are manifest because he first thought us, and then looked to see our arrival within His Consciousness? What if the heart of our origin is within the Spirit who is our beginning. What then is the base line of my worth? What then is the ultimate reality of my being? What is the true season of the soul? Does the sun actually shine in all seasons? And if this is true of me, is it also not true of everyone else. </p>
<p>God is Love. The very definition of the one in which we all live move, and have being is love… so how do we get here from there? How do we get from our point of origin, to a place where humanity looks nothing like its Maker? We are so far removed that we need to put on Christmas lights in an early October snowstorm to combat the depression that flavours a change in seasons. </p>
<p>A few times now, I have heard the term “imposter syndrome” which, as I understand it is the niggling feeling that while I look successful on the outside… if people really saw me, they wouldn’t give me the platform to open my mouth. If my worth really is subjective, and my value based on my accomplishments, that those that created my niche do get to to tell me how well I carry the role. But the role is not identity. </p>
<p>My person is safely settled in the place I originated. My authenticity as an individual is what gives rise to the uninhibited use of the gifts within my design. My connection to the source is my justification for the belief that I can contribute and make a difference. It is also that which enables me to make decisions for others with clear, loving authority. Knowing that I am the perfect manifestation of my Maker’s many pleasant thoughts gives me the confidence to reach into the imagination I have at my disposal and bring to manifestation a life that is better than my present temporal reality. Within my source is everything that is, resources are limitless. I was made, with the Healer in me. Not built to cope, to survive, but to heal. I am not built only to adapt, but to completely change. </p>
<p>The snow storm in October is the imposter. And trust me, it will melt. The Calendar did still say it is fall. My wounding experiences are snow. I have been given a shovel and a broom. I can clear a path to walk through them. I can choose to see the joy in moment, and turn on the lights. My neighbours don’t have to smile with me for that moment of joy to be real. They can laugh if they want to. I am not required to embrace the storm, or carry it with me. That gives it power. My perspective is mine, and is subject to the default setting I choose to believe is reality. </p>
<p>I choose love. I choose to not become easily offended. I choose the template that lets me see the person I may circumstantially wish to label an enemy. For they too, love their family, make dinner, shovel their snow. They too seek connection and belonging. </p>
<p>Turn your light on in the storm, someone else is craving the hope. You may just connect over the strangest thing. But let it propel you further into love, not deeper into your partisan offences. For we exist inside the one who is all in all. Spirit Source is our default setting. Let us return from whence we came and be healed.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/58735362019-08-28T18:00:22-06:002019-08-28T18:00:22-06:00Illuminated by Perspective<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/0bb4c2125f6869b613c0eb6bb9f08510e904e973/original/bbd62d39-271a-499d-8843-e0154e1f0618.jpeg/!!/b:W10=.jpg" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>“Illumination changes perspective…” In a tangible sense, yes, I suppose this is true. This morning I walked out into my garden because flowers caught in a beam of sunlight went from present to brilliant. I wanted to catch the moment, to capture the beauty. Nothing had changed but the light. Purple blossoms had been there all night long, but were only visible after sunrise, unimpressive while in the shadow, but, the Sun! </p>
<p>That same sun had been making bright the garden of another while its light softly reflected in moonbeams over mine. It is the same light. The. Same. Light. Breathe that one in, pause. The same light turning the white lily in China brilliant, is making shadows in my night garden. </p>
<p>God is Light, and in Him is no darkness at all. All is made and held together by him, He is in all, and through all, the Life Breath of all that is. He simply is. And we exist inside him. And he in us. We are illuminated from the inside. So then, perspective changes illumination, does, it not? </p>
<p>If I believe that God is “out there” waiting for an invitation into my life. Waiting for me to surrender something, ask for something, be willing to change something… my world is fuelled strictly by my own effort. I am responsible for my mess. But I can also blame the mess on the absent god that refused to show up and change my circumstances. I am stuck in a helpless cycle. It rains on the just and the unjust, but I see only that I am wet and I would rather be dry. </p>
<p>However, if I believe that he is Life itself, my breath happens in union with his. He has given all I need for life and godliness (one might express this as kindness, compassion, hope, living in the present, patience). I lack nothing. The fullness of all that is, dwells in me, has given me his mind, spirit, and resources… from the foundation of the world. My Maker dreamed me up and I am the manifestation of His many pleasant thoughts! His declaration over all that began in the mind of God was that it is good. </p>
<p>So what then of the shadow? The dark corners of my mind, my soul, my being? Are they illusion or reality? Are they part of my definition, or merely my experience? </p>
<p>The process of beginning over as a human, whether it be in a vocation or relationship, is one that brings shadowed areas into the light. Parts of us that have been gathering dust get pulled out and used again. Some of them were put into the closet in disrepair, and time has made them move a little less gracefully. This can make for some awkward movements, perhaps even accidents, if what you had considered capable of carrying you through needed mending. The trouble is that it presents an uncomfortable experience for the one to whom garment or apparatus belongs, and those who witness the ensuing disarray. </p>
<p>Have you ever picked up scissors after a child borrowed it to cut wire, thinking you might cut fabric with it? It won’t function. It looks like scissors, still makes the motion of scissors, but it cuts like a butterknife. Generally, with scissors we buy a new one… Or bring it to someone who can put a new edge on the blades, tighten the bolt and return it to its former glory. It is still a pair of scissors, but misuse has left in in need of care so it can be restored to the drawer and become predictably useful again. </p>
<p>This week, I felt a bit like those scissors. In order to change my circumstances, I have to change a pattern and risk relationship. I went to use the blade, and felt the hesitancy of rejection anxiety. Rust here, a nick there, a jagged, ripped part in fabric where I once could have made a very clean cut. In the wrong hands, I will be tossed back in the drawer. In the right hands, I will be sharpened, oiled, and put to use. Restored to former glory, intended use. </p>
<p>I suppose this is where illumination comes into human relationships. For what we believe about ourselves also determines how we will treat another in their process. Understand, I know that sometimes one cannot stay to see the end. Some of us are looking for an eraser in the conglomerate drawer, and not a pair of scissors. And humans are, rather like those drawers of miscellaneous things we all have in our homes… everything in it is slightly used, and has consequently developed idiosyncrasies. Even Babies, fresh out the package, because of how they have interacted with other humans, develop habits for coping and getting what they need. We learn behaviours, and we also can unlearn them, when we find they are without merit, and no longer necessary or counterproductive. </p>
<p>One might be tempted to just replace all of the objects in the drawer if one fails. After all, we are not meant to fix each other, who is up for that? But perhaps, we are meant to be part of the process. Let’s say that someone did pick up those scissors who knew how to fix them. And they took the time to do it? Can you imagine the freedom of everyone else who needed them, and the ease with which their new found predictability would enhance the lives of all they touch? </p>
<p>I have found that I grow more inside a relationship than out of it. Friendship, family, work, dating, marriage… redefining after a marriage ends, and dating again… My rough spots, my old wounds… all come out, and I am left to face myself. Not alone, mind you, whether that person leaves or stays, there is never just me in the room. And I cannot blame the one who held the mirror. They are not the light bringing illumination. They are not the perspective with which I embrace the reflection. And they are never the shadow. </p>
<p>And how I need those relationships. I need to exercise the muscles of healthy perspective. I need to heal. I need to be reminded that under the nicks and bruises, and wounds, I still AM. The beauty imagined into existence by the Maker is still there. When the mirror is held up and the light hits the dark places, I need to recall that this also has been redeemed. Hopefully the one who holds the mirror is not so shocked by the apparent ugliness that they cannot stay to see the changes. When I hold up the mirror to another, I need to be willing also to be part of things until their vision clears. The goal in such a process is always restoration. Criticism is cruel abandonment if it only has its say and leaves. Desolation and despair may follow. </p>
<p>Our culture has taught us to avoid toxic people. To see red flags. To run. I have often wished it wasn’t impertinent to ask an officer who stops me for speeding if they noticed I was speeding up or slowing down when they saw me. Because, to me, it matters. One implies a desire to be responsible, the other, blatant disregard for the spirit of the law. When you note my red flags, do you see me trying to tear them down, or relentlessly waving them? I might suggest, that if I believe the same one gives you life, breath, and love enough to survive, as does me, perhaps we were meant to help each other pull down the flags. </p>
<p>I want to allow my perspective to change my habits of illumination. I want to deal kindly with myself and others. I want to see them as they are seen, and have them see themselves in such light. I do not want to be jarred into changing my perspective by the floodlight of illumination, as might a deer in the headlights. For that feels much too late. Wounding others doesn’t heal the one that was already there, in me or in them. My insecurity is not your problem. It is my own identity issue. But your support as I change may be invaluable. I may need your perspective on me. I may need you to tell me what it is that captured your attention when you first truly saw me, so that I can recognize myself in the shadows long enough to believe the light can bring that breathtaking beauty to the surface. </p>
<p>In the dark, I imagine all shadows are monsters. In the light, I see purposeful objects. May I always sit in the Light. And look from there. Safely, securely, optimistically, from there. Life illuminated by perspective.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/58570452019-08-13T18:05:50-06:002019-08-17T00:05:03-06:00The Blossom or the Bug; Intact<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/7ca94e0d9b7ea1c4440e19f34905e8e3a2fb9d73/original/4f08eeb6-5e4f-4f5c-a508-f2fe40b8d446.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>The Blossom or the Bug</em></p>
<p>Beauty </p>
<p>peeks out in every season </p>
<p>and is only seen if searched out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>One can see the blossom </p>
<p>or the bug </p>
<p>the fruit on the tree </p>
<p>or the windfall beneath </p>
<p>the brilliance in the leaves </p>
<p>or the mess they make </p>
<p>The flake glistening in sunlight </p>
<p>or the drift across the walk </p>
<p>that needs a shovel. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Life’s seasons are no different. </p>
<p>people come and go </p>
<p>and in them is a learning </p>
<p>a flourishing chance to grow. </p>
<p>a revealing </p>
<p>sometimes of another </p>
<p>but mostly of ourselves. </p>
<p>And the constant… </p>
<p>ever increasing understanding </p>
<p>of self in context of the whole. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For I am </p>
<p>in the present. </p>
<p>Beauty, grace, life, vibrancy, texture. </p>
<p>I am fluid and tangible </p>
<p>Created and creator. </p>
<p>I am love itself manifest </p>
<p>in being. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>For love is in </p>
<p>not just the joy </p>
<p>but also the grief. </p>
<p>Love weaves tapestry revealing </p>
<p>purpose in both light and dark. </p>
<p>One string in mine </p>
<p>catches your attention </p>
<p>and there is a connection. </p>
<p>Heart, Soul, Spirit. </p>
<p>The deep which calls to deep. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Engage in life. </p>
<p>For in its mystery, </p>
<p>is the knowing. </p>
<p>And in the living of it </p>
<p>Wisdom. </p>
<p>Wise life does not ever perish. </p>
<p>For it chooses to see </p>
<p>and then look long enough to find. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That which is tangible is also temporal. There is no guarantee of its perpetuation. In a sense, we are the only constant in our own life. One might argue that the only constant is Life itself, out of which we flow. And if we choose to reside in that fresh, restful stream of being, that is true. </p>
<p>I have felt more in the rapids of late, than the quiet pool. The handhold I had been certain of could not support my weight, and I fell. Tears flowed. Emotions stirred. Full gamut of raw being exposed. Alone, self doubt bruised soul. And yet… what do I choose to see? I am still in the pool. There is still peace. The agitation that stopped me from seeing my own reflection in the clear water was my panicked flailing. I put my feet down, and find I am not still falling, helpless, I am completely supported by solid rock. The debris from the accident has also found a resting place. Oddly, adding beauty to the landscape. </p>
<p>I am still intact. And I may know me better. What felt like a bruise was no more than a muscle stretched and strengthened by use. A limb now moves with more confidence and freedom. Somewhere in the loss a gain emerged. Out of the grief stems an unstoppable confidence. I need only one for my own holy expression. My spirit only requires one person to bring the light given her… me. </p>
<p>Every experience in life brings out a new detail of my reflection in the pool. I see myself with greater clarity. I relax about my purpose. I begin to see my wholeness, my completeness. I breathe in and out with greater ease, and greet the next day with more hope. </p>
<p>The grief, the sadness, mere connection points with others who are part of the whole. The chinks in my armour reveal my humanity. Compassion, support, love can flow uninhibited into the soul of another. They may find their own beauty, heal in knowing they are not isolated in their experience. </p>
<p>My constant, is me, immersed in Life itself. Sheltered, held, loved without condition, individually designed, but manifest as part of the whole. At rest in my placement. At peace in relationship. Confident in identity. Come, Life, I am constantly in flow, and therefore, in perfect rest. At peace in all circumstances. Fully intact. </p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/58394542019-07-28T12:52:42-06:002020-01-22T23:02:23-07:00 Loved Properly<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/915d24e4d8f5fdc34df05dbeea689be2f68a0aa9/original/067552ea-251a-45b0-857c-9fdd87447ec6.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Humans are wonderful creatures. We have the ability to communicate with words, that which is in our hearts. Every other creature has the ability to portray emotions, moods, intent, pain, joy, attraction, devotion, with body language and sound alone. Humanity was given the nuance of language, and with it, the ability to express lie as well as truth. We can be, and not be, in one breath. We can allow our emotional utterances out before the real feeling is articulated, replacing the subtle emotions of our grief, sadness or betrayal, with a loud outburst of anger. </p>
<p>It is also possible to form one’s own dialect, assigning new meaning to old words based on how we have come to understand them. And in that context, truth gets lost. Buried. Obliterated. Instead of reality expressed, there is, in its place, a filtered, even diseased rendition of truth that supercedes the standard. </p>
<p>I think western culture has done this with love. Something so simple, reduced to a system, labelled and intertwined with hierarchy to the point that identity once carefully designed is now lost. We have assumed that two becoming one is a process of melding to inter submissive mush (but with a distinctive roles in tact), when rather it should be the declaration of something that already exists. </p>
<p>I have had, in my past, already, a love void of natural flow due to an overflowing wastebasket of structural expectations for a working relationship based on religiously interpreted biblical hierarchy. There was space for a singularly directional submission, but no safe place to be vulnerable and heal for either party. Love that should have been given a place to be kind and gentle, and unselfish, was squelched by the need for the right one to lead. Nothing kills love faster than an external template that ignores innate design. Ask any child with an artistic personality raised by a firstborn, whose life and breath is in a schedule and a specific method. It will lack flow, and the child will feel the role of a square peg in a round hole in short order. Marriage is no different. You get two humans together and instead of encouraging them to nurture what attracted them to each other in the first place, you tell them what the balance of power template looks like, and you have a breeding ground for bitterness and resentment. The individual surrenders too much to the relationship, and instead of taking charge of their own well being, it becomes the stewardship of the other party. Any discomfort resulting from the strained relationship is labelled necessary refinement. It is then stated that if both parties are submitted to Christ properly, this system is flawless. </p>
<p>The difficulty is that one’s ability to submit to Christ gets very wrapped up in the desires of the other spouse. Surrender to truth and enlightenment becomes a casualty of a peaceful marriage. If two oxen are harnessed to a cart at the same time, both having been fed and watered, and are led into the field, and one ox falls into a hole, injuring a leg, the cart will no longer pull even, no matter if the stronger oxen is still in fine form. If the wounded creature is still forced to carry the load, the farmer has on his hands a very lame ox. It will need rest and attention. Putting them together would be to create an unequal yolk. Two humans properly in surrender to Christ, but with differing wound history and healing patterns can become just as out of step as two oxen, but if one believes proper submission is to never make the other uncomfortable, or that one innately stronger should require rest while the other shoulders the load for a time is shameful because of how the ideal is supposed to look, the relationship is doomed from the get go. </p>
<p>Loving properly is to create a secure place for the past wounds to heal, no matter who they belong to. Love is patient, kind, gentle, other focussed, peaceful, gracious. It does rejoice in the uncovering of truth. In fact, love peels back deception until truth is revealed, and it is long suffering, for it stays in the room the entire time. It does not shrink back, and it does not care if it is the masculine or feminine energy in the process. We function well in a couple, not because one is stronger than another, but because our strengths are balancing. We are part of one another’s refinement, not because our criticism points out our rough places, but because we choose to see more clearly the beauty in the other than they are capable of seeing in their dark moments. I am not as I have been, because the light has overpowered the darkness, and I am able to be seen. I am also confident in the transition because love, seeing clearly, has given me security in an identity flailing in my wounds. I am reminded that I am not the sum total of what has been broken, but rather, I existed before, and can heal to the point of no longer bowing to the encumbrance of my negative experiences. The truth is in the design, not the misuse of an object. Why should it be different with a human? </p>
<p>The most beautiful lover is the one who chooses to see you in your element and encourages the chasing of the dream. Suggestions to change might come up, but only as encouragement to growth. When your behaviour ceases to be a reflection of your character, they ask you if you are alright. When you cry, you are reminded that you are loved in all your moods. Your thoughts matter. Your response to them matters. Even when the discussion moves into uncomfortable territory, it is very clear that the emotion that surfaces is not the fault of the one asking questions, but there is ownership of what is already there. My pain is mine. His is his. We are welcome to walk through the room it is in and be there a while, but neither of us are responsible for the cleanup in the other’s chamber. Being asked to help is different. And there is not much work to be done to dust of a mirror so the reflection is accurate and recount the ways beauty is seen in that person. But if the one we love will heal and take us along on the journey, it will be because love made them safe in the process. </p>
<p>You have always been beautiful, says Love, it is my desire that you learn the truth of this, and not be abandoned in the process. </p>
<p>This understanding seems to make the question of “spiritual leadership” a moot point. If one is loved properly, this is not a question of, “will he structure your home life in a way that pleases God?” It is a question of whether or not he chooses to see you and your children, and incidently, anyone else who walks through your lives, accurately as the Maker designed them, and treat them accordingly, himself included. Or, will he choose to crush the spirit of those around him based on his misunderstood innate authority. How can I be unequally yolked with someone who views the earth, that is the Lord’s, and everything in it, as something to be cared for, cherished, seen, beautiful, of value. How can someone whose desire for me is that I shine like the noonday sun in the place made for me be an unsafe person to trust? </p>
<p>Spiritual leadership, is a state of being, not a series of responsibilities fulfilled. Its only template is love. Its only desire is the full revelation of those around them coming to fruition. It cannot be self seeking, for the nature of it looks to the advantageous creative healing of others. It creates joy, celebration, life. The most accurate picture we are given is in the Trinity… A constant flow of love moving between individual parts who are, at the core, one. Who is more equipped to lead than one who realizes love is the stewardship of beings whose oneness with them is the outpouring of innate identity, not external agreement. </p>
<p>Spiritual leadership, in any context; marriage, parenting, friendship, flock care, business management, is all the same. It cleans off the mirror and shows an accurate reflection of that individual to them, however broken they may be, and helps them find a way to visibly display who they are. I also put it to you, that all leadership is spiritual, for it is Love in action. It’s too bad it has been redefined by our western culture as, at best, stewardship of power and ability to give direction. The system seems to make hypocrites of us all… we have been reduced to playing a role. </p>
<p>I would rather be myself. Thank you Love, for making it possible. I am allowing my self to be loved properly, and I have stopped arguing with the mirror on a daily basis. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I choose not only to look, but to see. Let Love be the lens of interpretation through which the words are measured, and the people are seen. In such light, no truth is lost.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/58309682019-07-20T16:39:51-06:002020-10-04T23:35:51-06:00As I Am, Dear One, Are You<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/ace1275fadec7e9180dadc5651d28bee27212e2d/original/as-i-am-dear-one-are-you-4.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>Our garden is a little wild… most of our weeds are poppies and pansies, sunflowers and borage. The encroach upon the carrots and beans with impunity. We planted them there on purpose the first year, and since then, they have busted out in numbers, assuming the right to omnipresence. I feel ok about their eradication until I start to see them boldly revealing their exquisite faces… and then I am smitten, the heart swells, and I rationalize leaving this one, and that one …and perhaps the one over there. Vegetables blossom as well, equally engaging and dynamic. Some subtle and innocent, some brazen in their display. </p>
<p>I welcomed the simple strawberry blossom faces while I plucked the resulting fruit from vigorous green foliage and mused, awash in splendour in my garden fair… that were flowers just for bees and bugs to find and pollen to be moved about, all buds could have opened exactly alike. But no. Breathtaking beauty is intentional. It ought to stop us in our tracks and place us in a peaceful spot. It ought to make us pause. We ought to see it. </p>
<p>We live in a universe endlessly created, all of its components have beauty and design written all over them. It veritably screams in the vibrant colours of spring, summer and autumn, even the starkness of winter, that it was all on purpose. So many details. So much intention. Constant flow of soul refreshment that pays no court to humanly derived strata. Flowers don’t care who notices them, who drinks in their aroma or gazes at their sweet faces, they only bloom where they had place enough to take root. </p>
<p>Of late, they have become to me a mirror. You, they say, are loved. You are seen, you are given all you need to be sustained. Worry is an illusion. You are equally purposed in the known universe as I, embrace it. Your influence only dies if you pinch off your blossom. Let the rain come, see it for what it is. Take what the lightning brings in the storm. Accept the caress of the wind. Be healed in the sun. Be nurtured by the soil. When someone comes to dine at your table, give to them freely of the peace and joy you have… pollenate souls. Enjoy the shade of the taller plants, they make your bloom last longer. </p>
<p>The bloom, is never off the rose. Long after petals fall, the fruit remains. For a season it sleeps, and yet it springs forth again in dazzling display. So it is with all life, periods of rest, moments of silence, era of cultivation, pruning, and fertilization, and growth that feels, in the onset, painful. But beauty comes from this. And I am but a reflection. I am revealed in I am. All I need within, manifest without. Healed, not in the effort, but in the being. In the choosing to be awake. In the vibrancy of the moment revealed, this is my place, this is my moment. My potential and my engagement meeting in harmonious cooperative creative effort. A soul both rooted and free, irrevocably connected to the All in the I am. Uniquely breathtaking. If I refused to bloom, you would not stop and see. Your heart would not gain, in this moment, it’s peaceful spot. You would not see your own reflection in the face of this Being revealed. </p>
<p>We could have been designed for function only. And sadly, some believe we are. They search out purpose over pure being, and in so doing, worry themselves into undoing. How can the manifestation of the thoughts of Love itself be utilitarian in their existence? How can we not see the value in the exquisite face of each expression of the Divine? </p>
<p>Next time you extoll a flower for its pure expression of beauty, hear it reply with an open heart: As I am, you are, dear one… are you.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/58236532019-07-13T15:12:39-06:002019-07-13T17:20:46-06:00The Mirage<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/9edd29803045e69d940f3da4b6c070ec0f97f0fa/original/593e699c-c30d-4666-bd8d-75a59fa759a5.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" />I didn’t want to know. I wanted to just think there were hypocrites everywhere. I wanted to think I’d left my arrogance, my sense of secret heavenly knowledge club somewhere in my youth. I wanted to see the sunny side of the life I’d accepted as true. But now I’ve seen what happens when you take what you thought was a sabbatical (but is actually an entrance into perpetual rest), from years of being told when you’re ready to do things, which gifts you have, what a call, a vocation looks like, what to aspire to. For so long, I thought they knew. I put myself in submission to the system. I was anxious, dissatisfied, settling, always waiting, never measuring up, perpetually struggling with something, all the while certain it was part of my preparation for life. It felt like it was meant to be difficult. As though I was hard to love, and I could expect loving others to be work. I could expect to have to give up myself to experience love, acceptance, a position of service within my gifting might have been a mirage in a desert… a longing never satisfied. </p>
<p>The very way of life I had embraced as beautiful has grabbed both arms to hold me back, and demanded I run at the same time. The difficulty was not me, it was not the Maker, I was right to have the instinct to fight this, because it was abuse. It was breaking the commandment not to use the Name of God in vain because it justified its judgement and oppression and tradition and blamed it on Love. It’s so incongruent. There is no wandering through the desert in Christ’s message, only rest. Religion has made a shrine of the desert. Instead of embracing the silence and actively moving through it, becoming a voice in it, as John the Baptist did, fulfilling the calling even in the stark moments, we have made it a period of desperate waiting, prized the abstract longing, called it holy discontent out of which desire for revival comes. Doubtless he has met some of us here, softened us in the waiting process, for we were finally quiet enough to hear what he already said. Children in a temper tantrum do eventually tire and become silent. The things we have misquoted in our religion… When we are weak, he is strong, they that wait on Lord, shall renew their strength. We see these things in such a helpless light… Like an eternal pregnant pause only the Divine can bring an end to, he who is out there, transcends and saves us from our circumstance. HE cannot, after all, move us until we are humbled, self abased, full of the knowledge that we are nothing. It is then, when we realize we are only of value in Him, that we are ready for service anyway. Not so? Not. So. A fallacy proven by failure. No one ever became utterly convinced in their own mind to the point of trusting their actions to be the good work put before them to do without a hint of insecurity from this starting line. There is always a degree of “what if” about the decision, and a panicky need for God to close a door, and an equal dichotomy of wondering over regrets if I did not pound hard enough for heaven to hear… Reality is much simpler. </p>
<p>I exist in HIM. Some day is NOW. The Kingdom of God is NOW. I waited, but I looked out when I should have looked within, for I only felt weak. He is in me, I am in him… I AM STRONG. </p>
<p>It is time, I think to cast off that which hinders, for I was born to more, to greatness, and I have complacently accepted mediocrity. I do not want to sit and wait. I am a writer, a singer, a healer, a mind given to deep thought, ears to listening, a mouth connected to a heart which speaks love. These are his pleasant thoughts manifest in my being. My engagement in such flow of activity is my praise. While I sat and waited for it to be time for them to be exercised in a “spiritual setting,” the rocks were forced to cry out. No more. I emerge whole through the gate in my open mind. I embrace life. I am well, free, whole. Healed. I cry no vain tears. I do not wait for heaven for life to begin. I have this moment, and in it, I sit in my right mind. I have the mind of Christ. This is the way, walk in it. I open my hands to accept the good you have placed in them. I abandon fear, to which I have long been captive. For I am enough. Music and healing flow. I have a place in your world. I belong. I have been placed where I am free to love. Perhaps, all along, the desert has been the mirage, and the mirage the reality. Perhaps it is not what I have seen that is the problem, but what I have chosen to look at. I choose to see with the eye of my soul, the growth that is. I am beauty. I am life. I am enough. Complete. I can see.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/57763432019-06-01T12:40:21-06:002019-06-01T12:40:21-06:00Insourced<p> </p>
<p><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/dce7f0ad08169d7f4d9e917781d01db4f05dea87/original/e7bb62a2-18b2-4b3b-b8be-1fe7d4053495.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></p>
<p>I wish you could see. </p>
<p>Or maybe you can, </p>
<p>and I wish you would look. </p>
<p>Either way, </p>
<p>our eyes are not converging on the same point </p>
<p>and agreement is an illusion. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You are still trying </p>
<p>I see that. </p>
<p>But you are dependent on me </p>
<p>my belief in you. </p>
<p>my faith </p>
<p>my energy </p>
<p>my spirit. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>No one person can be that </p>
<p>which you are to be to yourself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And so your love seeks to possess </p>
<p>control </p>
<p>orchestrate </p>
<p>manipulate. </p>
<p>There is no flow </p>
<p>no nurture </p>
<p>no care in it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I do not discount the wound. </p>
<p>I have had them too </p>
<p>inflicted by those who had learned evil </p>
<p>instead of good </p>
<p>stunted in immaturity </p>
<p>instead of propelled into growth, </p>
<p>connected to self and spirit on all levels. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And so, </p>
<p>there is a beauty to you </p>
<p>you cannot embrace, </p>
<p>but you crave. </p>
<p>For a moment you saw yourself through my eyes </p>
<p>but disbelief claimed the vision </p>
<p>and it vanished like mist in morning sun. </p>
<p>frustration at its dissipation made you volatile. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It is illusive </p>
<p>and I think it drives you </p>
<p>to return </p>
<p>to ask for more </p>
<p>to depend on my perspective of you. </p>
<p>But my perspective is insourced. </p>
<p>universally insourced. </p>
<p>and available. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And no one person can be that </p>
<p>which you are to be for yourself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arguably, humans are addictive personalities. Habits are so deeply ingrained we are not certain if we made them, or they made us. Some make us feel good, some are so empty we wonder why we adopted them in the first place. And some are an unnatural high followed by an ever revealing low. We long for even predictability. But life happens. And here we are. Happy or unhappy on our roller coaster. </p>
<p>I put it to you that we are not as addictive as we are bent towards our own comfort. We desperately desire to have our ducks in a row. To control our path, to have it be ours. The trouble is our supreme lack of isolation. We are born of, and into people. And those people already have their own addictions. Some contribute to well being, some merely assist the life sustaining coping that temporarily prevents parting from the earth suit in favour of eternity. All of them work much like the flood gates on a dam… The water is still there. The pressure still builds. </p>
<p>I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to know how to manage my river… I want to know how to best have it move me. I want the energy, the power, the flow to become that which drives me. I want to see myself in the calm pools, be refreshed by the spray from the rapids, invigorated by the rush of flood season. I want the fear to go out of the process of being capitulated over the falls. I want to enjoy the journey. I want to embrace the baptism of the depths and rise free. </p>
<p>I don’t want to have coping mechanisms that make life doable, the predictable highs of addiction, I want life. </p>
<p>I want to trust the Source that drives both me and that river. His choice in the vessel that will carry me… canoe, kayak, riverboat, steamer, raft. I want to learn to steer them all. To be part of the team when I am with others, to pilot my own in a solitary transport. </p>
<p>But using an oar is work. Reading the river requires intentional searching. Learning to swim is a combination of using breath and muscle, and the water itself. Getting to know my limits and freedom is a process. Shedding the limitations placed on me is a trip of intentional healing. I have to want to be free. I have to be brave enough to stop flailing and put my feet down, if I am to find that I am not actually in danger of drowning. </p>
<p>It is true that in the process of finding our feet, most of us have been hit by debris that someone else jarred loose or left exposed, or plain carelessly dumped in the river. Some of the wounds are deep and defining. Difficult to overcome. Some of them are reinforced by generations of travellers in the boat you begin on, and abandoning that boat is terrifying because as chaotic as the hierarchy may be in that place, it is home. You may have to swim to shore and choose a boat, or let yourself be rescued by a person in another vessel. Most of the colossal vessels are incapable of navigating rough waters anyway, and are damaged and forced ashore by a rocky shallow bottom. </p>
<p>The debris is not the river. The vessel we are born into is not the river either. Discover the River. Feel the water. Let it wash the wounds, heal the sores, hydrate the soul. Let the movement of the river soothe your being into rest. Learn to be in it. Trust it. Imagine where it can take you. Let the breeze along it speak life into you, choose to hear the song the water sings. When you find yourself alone in it, remember that it knows you well and let yourself be reminded by your reflection in it that you are part of what is beautiful and good. Sourced, Sustained, Propelled. Equally embraced in deep and shallow. Poised for adventure, and rest, in perfect balance. Free from the anchor of habitual me, I find that I am a person known, not an addictive personality. I am both in Source, and insourced. Sustained, and sustaining. The balance of being. </p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/57267222019-04-20T12:40:20-06:002020-10-24T07:59:44-06:00In The Garden<p><strong><em><img src="//d10j3mvrs1suex.cloudfront.net/u/286675/f92766203dec066c18bc3677652e8b55dde6a2bf/original/in-the-garden-reframingeaster.png/!!/b:W10=.png" class="size_l justify_center border_" /></em></strong></p>
<p><strong><em>There Never Was a Shadow</em></strong></p>
<p> </p>
<p>O, Easter… </p>
<p>meanings new and old </p>
<p>new life does bloom </p>
<p>in the garden of the soul </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I didn’t know the desert </p>
<p>I was in before </p>
<p>or that the water pure and deep </p>
<p>never varied in it it’s flow </p>
<p><br>I did not know </p>
<p>so many things </p>
<p>that you have said to me </p>
<p>calling me from darkness into light </p>
<p> </p>
<p>it’s peaceful in the lonely places </p>
<p>the bounty here </p>
<p>the pain erases </p>
<p>and I find you in the other faces too </p>
<p> </p>
<p>perhaps the all of it surprised me </p>
<p>the encompassing of mercy </p>
<p>I’m not transplanted here </p>
<p>but ever sourced in Life herself </p>
<p> </p>
<p>and it’s a happy ever after </p>
<p>in this season of the soul </p>
<p>for there never was a shadow </p>
<p>just a cloud that brought the rain </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s the first Easter in my personal history, which I have had without the pomp and circumstance of religion’s perspective on celebrated events. I was a church musician for so long, I appreciated the liturgy and the tradition, the minor gloom of Good Friday, the major majestic tones of Sunday. The contrast between shame and love. The individualistic emotional response to the magnificent grace of a Saviour who took my punishment, and so could forgive if I chose it. </p>
<p>I suppose if one might so misread his life, one might also misinterpret his death. In Jesus, we see the Christ. The Image of the Invisible One. In whose Image we also are Made. In whose Being we are. Irrevocable Union since the dawn of time. And before that still, I was a thought. You were a thought. We are the manifestation of his many pleasant thoughts… of us. While he did die, and accomplish much in the process, his living then and now reminds us of his love. He pulled person after person out of their own living hell, a place the religion of the day had condemned them to, and would have had them die in, at its own hand. And in this, religion repeatedly violated its own commandments. Do not use the Name of the Lord in vain. Do not oppress. Do not condemn. Do not take life in My Name and call the act a holy one. He wanted to remove death from the picture, but we would not hear him. And so he made himself the very manifestation of our dark thoughts to give us the unerring picture of Life’s triumph over death. Even the veil in the temple was torn so humanity no longer had its own symbolic crutch to reinforce such separation. </p>
<p>We would not see ourselves forgiven and loved. Glory is a reflection, not a manufactured result. We do not make it anymore than we produce faith, hope or love. It is divinely bestowed identity, reflected back accurately in our horizontal treatment of others. We are reminded, and so we remind others. Of worth, of value, of specific intention, of beauty. We are an extension of the I AM. </p>
<p>Life in the I AM. Freedom. Religion’s treadmill unplugged. I no longer do to stay fit. I am drawn outside myself into the beauty of life itself and moved into a world asleep. My movement and being cause me to grow strong and flexible. My Source is not in a place, his place is in me. Where I am, he is. If He stops breathing, we all do. Simultaneously. If that does not make the picture of Lord of Glory on a cross breathing his last a significant and accurate rendering of the spiritual state of being of all humanity, as understood in the context of the Union of all of Creation, nothing shall. No wonder the sky went black in the daytime. All of Creation despaired of life. </p>
<p>And then He Rose. A stone, rolled heavy over the door of hope by disenchanted humanity buried deep in grief moved away as the perfect manifestation of Love walked again among us, promising to leave so we could fully embrace what it was he had revealed. The system humanity had constructed failed. His death proved it only knew how to take life. His resurrection proved it had no power. And he declared we would do greater things than these… </p>
<p>I think, in this, my first Easter Celebration no longer needing to embrace shame to grasp forgiveness, I shall live instead. Perhaps I shall have the honour of reminding someone else that they are yet among the living, and death itself is the illusion. Perhaps I shall bask in the knowledge that all living things long to be called forth as one in a grave sleep, into true Light, Life, and Love. Perhaps I shall embrace the storm, thank it for the rain, and speak peace into it that it may fall gently, and foster growth. </p>
<p>And perhaps I shall skip shame’s veil, for it too is an illusion. A human construct. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Absolutely breathtaking. A perfect manifestation of the Glory of the Maker. I shall abandon the tomb and walk bravely in the garden, because I belong there. I shall speak that which affirms life and draws out beauty. I shall bless and not curse. And I shall see the healing salvation of the the One who is worked out both in me and in those I touch with love. I shall not celebrate the resurrection this year, as an event in history, but rather I shall Live in its ever present result. I shall not wait for heaven to assume life in a resurrected body. I AM in the I AM. I AM.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/57072072019-04-04T11:41:20-06:002019-04-04T11:41:20-06:00Rock My Heart<p><strong>Rock My Heart</strong> </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>You’re showing your care of me </em></p>
<p><em>I bask in your loving arms </em></p>
<p><em>you’re wearing me down, </em></p>
<p><em>showing my heart your charms. </em></p>
<p><em>I was so defensive, </em></p>
<p><em>running away from you </em></p>
<p><em>afraid of your kindness </em></p>
<p><em>and what it might make me do. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Rock my heart, </em></p>
<p><em>Rock it gentle and O, so true. </em></p>
<p><em>Rock my heart </em></p>
<p><em>until I’m at peace with you. </em></p>
<p><em>Make it last, </em></p>
<p><em>take the future and take the past, </em></p>
<p><em>take the blues, </em></p>
<p><em>the present, the joy of you. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Your motives are pure and good </em></p>
<p><em>loving me like you should </em></p>
<p><em>because I’ve been made for this, </em></p>
<p><em>made for pure pleasure. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>And I surrender, </em></p>
<p><em>I take what you’re giving me </em></p>
<p><em>I’m seeing it’s loving, </em></p>
<p><em>and deepest affection. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Love. Some have it, some long for it, some have it mixed up with attraction. Some dream about an illusive bubble feeling that exists only in the pleasure centre, and some, some have discovered that true love is also in the pain. So how then, is love patient, kind, without guile, gentle, free from jealousy or arrogance, forgiving, and happiest in raw honesty? How, in a world so crushed can love be safe? Do we not all love out of our brokenness? </p>
<p>Ah, no. Love is. It is not a series of things done, a checklist of behaviour, or an emotion to wax and wane. It is Being itself. The verb and the noun. It is both source and manifestation. The moment and all of time. Our acceptance or rejection of it, our redefinition or perception of it does nothing to alter the reality of its pervasive presence. Our response does nothing to change the Being, or the state of being. </p>
<p>So much of how we experience this world is based on our understanding of love in relation to us. Whether we deserve it. If we have earned it. If expressing it is a duty or a pleasure, or simply an extension of effortless flow. The hypothetical ideology we posses does very little to expose Love’s true value in our lives, and our interaction with others is really the only measure of its pervasive power in us. If I cannot accept love without assigning it an expiry date, or an unwritten condition of validity, if I anticipate it will leave should I be vulnerable and open… If I find no joy in love only fear the peace of it is fleeting, I know not Love, but only my wounds. </p>
<p>For many years I was immersed in a culture where love was only one characteristic among many of the Divine. The expression of it was associated more with false humility and self abasement than confident identity and enjoyment of life. One expected life to be difficult, relationships with others to be challenging, pride to require squashing, iron to sharpen iron, and growth to be measured by an external judge. Submission one to another was more about defining an authority structure and bowing to the office of leadership than constructive or illuminating conversation that brought mutual respect and understanding. It was no safe place for self discovery. </p>
<p>But Love is. And Love flows. And Love knew me too. >Love drew me out through relationships and beauty. Writing and Music from my own hand contradicted years of indoctrination and I began to see and feel. Peace, joy, patience, kindness, self control all became happy companions. I felt comfortable seeing people only in Love’s light… empathy and compassion walked everywhere with me. I had no trouble with love flowing out of me. I could give, but I could not receive. I was still expecting love to require sacrifice. Compromise of self. Denial of human need for the greater good. </p>
<p>Being loved and specifically seen or understood was an illusive persuit, and I thought, a ridiculous expectation. Everyone around me was so broken. Every relationship exposed it. Being in them rubbed my scars raw. And there is the rub. O, the necessary cultivation of hard ground that precedes the penetration of moisture and air and warmth required for seeds planted to germinate. I began to see as I was open and vulnerable, that those who needed me could see, and hear, and understand. Not only did the ensuing relationships bring freedom to their souls, but smiles, delight, delight at bringing me a smile. And delight paved the path to true pleasure. Like a seedling chasing the light, I broke out of the darkness. </p>
<p>I was made for pleasure! Life is made to be enjoyed. Anticipated with hope. Imagined with positive outlook. While my body experiences pain, it too was made to be loved and enjoyed. It was made for pure pleasure! I can see, feel the touch of another, smell pleasant aromas, hear music, taste food. I can be in this moment, engage with another human and feel no shame, be uninhibited by fear of vulnerability. I can communicate with clarity, contribute to the growth of another person and expect that the outcome will be positive. </p>
<p>Out of this growth came Rock My Heart. I wrote it in the context of romance because that is where the healing began to surface. All love is surrender to something given. It was my own hand and heart against my mind revealing that in this case, what Love asked was that I enjoy myself in it. Revel in it. Begin to understand the word resplendent in the context of myself. Shining brilliantly, Merriam-Webster says, characterized by glowing splendour. That is me awash in Love. Because Love is gentle, kind, and without guile. It will not boast or envy, or recall my wrongs and parade them about my conscious thoughts. Love will illuminate and accentuate the beauty placed in me and declared good, and I will reflect the glory of Love. I will reflect it most in utter defiance of that which should have broken me by allowing my healed heart to walk through Life with Love and enjoy all of it, with PLEASURE! O, Love, have at me, for in you, I am truly resplendent, truly at home, truly myself. Be free to strip me bare, for none has ever died from such exposure, only healed. Rock my heart, rock it gentle and O, so true…</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/56396562019-02-12T11:37:28-07:002019-02-12T12:08:47-07:00Pride's Castle, Old Roses, Love's Lies<p><strong>Old Rose </strong></p>
<p><em>Old Rose </em></p>
<p><em>you stand so straight and tall </em></p>
<p><em>a blossom in a vase </em></p>
<p><em>the sight </em></p>
<p><em>the smell </em></p>
<p><em>the colour bright </em></p>
<p><em>You’ve kept your rosy ways. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>It isn’t that I’m unaware </em></p>
<p><em>I’ve frozen you in time </em></p>
<p><em>a dried out piece of memory </em></p>
<p><em>unfettered by life’s grind. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>No one expects you to move on </em></p>
<p><em>Or silence your heart’s cry </em></p>
<p><em>Or stop the tears that seem to flow </em></p>
<p><em>For a love that you wish near. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>You gather dust </em></p>
<p><em>I blow it off </em></p>
<p><em>maybe I should let you go </em></p>
<p><em>but the secret between </em></p>
<p><em>you and I </em></p>
<p><em>the knowing I still care </em></p>
<p><em>you’ve kept your rosy ways, </em></p>
<p><em>Old Rose, </em></p>
<p><em>I’d rather you were there. </em></p>
<p>Not all of the memories love leaves behind are the bloom of the rose. Some are thorns. Pure, harsh, unapologetic thorns. Love gone wrong, Love turned on itself, Love that failed to cherish, protect, nurture. Some love is selfish and never sees the other. Some love is calculated and protects itself. Some love is not love at all, for it only takes and never gives. </p>
<p>But some love is sweet, and kind, and healing. It brings hope, it is true, and makes fear flee. Some love is safety itself, and beauty. It makes you ache for the purity and the life of it. It makes you yearn to be so unfettered. </p>
<p>Our relationship with Love itself often determines our ability to embrace it. If it is that which we never laid hold of, or that which betrays us, then fear masquerading as logic makes choices for us. We weigh the pros and cons of investment in relationship instead of asking how we feel. We settle for what we think we want because we are left in control of the safety of our own vulnerability and we choose what will hurt the least to lose. It’s comfortable if it meets some needs, but not all of them. It keeps me from needing that person too much. If they fail me, it’s not a loss, it’s an expectation. If I choose to be in a relationship that doesn’t steal my breath, doesn’t require investment, and will just leave me be, let me feel strong, let me feel I have everything to give, if they need, but I only want, I can be both attached and free… Loved, but uninvested. And my wounds stay hidden, vulnerable, untouched. </p>
<p><strong>Pride’s Castle </strong></p>
<p>I<em> am safe here in my castle, </em></p>
<p><em>Where I let the drawbridge down </em></p>
<p><em>Release it with my smile </em></p>
<p><em>Pull it back up with my frown. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>I don’t have to let you see it </em></p>
<p><em>That’s the glory of a moat </em></p>
<p><em>As long as I’m inside it </em></p>
<p><em>You stay out there in your boat. </em><br> </p>
<p><em>I’m the king of my emotions </em></p>
<p><em>Full control of all the feels </em></p>
<p><em>I don’t have to let you see them </em></p>
<p><em>unobserved they aren’t real. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>It is lonely in Prides’ castle, </em></p>
<p><em>No one’s there to break your fall </em></p>
<p><em>might as well become an island </em></p>
<p><em>If you stay within the wall. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ah… but the drawbridge is the tell of the unhealed heart. An observant lover of souls still reads from the outside. Still knows, still loves, still is. Patiently waiting. It knows we are not the sum total of our wounds and woes. We are who we were before them. We are who we are when we let go. Some will the wounds to heal, walk into them bravely, embrace the relationships with man and Maker that bring freedom. Some seek momentary freedom in the high a substance or adrenaline rush brings. </p>
<p>My most difficult moments have come when I walked headlong into love and let it have it’s way with me. Sometimes it has cut me deeply. Sometimes I cannot pull out the thorn it leaves on my own. There’s a secret in that realization. I was not born to be alone. No matter how much I risk to love and be loved, there is value in each relationship. My wounds may help another, may make me passionate about the healing of others, my story becomes a conduit of love for a wounded soul who sought safety in their castle but found only aching loneliness. Sometimes the pain is not pain at all, but rather the uncomfortable itch of healing. Because He really is all in all, the Maker uses the most unlikely of humans to touch my soul, to remind me of who I am. </p>
<p>I am a human that was made for love, in love, to be loved. I cannot be untouched by human hands. My human hands must touch. Those who are wounded and choose to remain there perpetuate the illusion that humanity is an awful conglomerate of degenerate souls. Love screams out that they are not so reputed! It requests that they walk into an embrace that invites them to remember the first blush of the rose when life and love were new. When they knew who they were. If at any moment you feel joy or happiness, rest assured, that is you. In your truest most glorious state, you are the very essence of peace, love and joy. Don’t pull up your drawbridge and settle for anything less. O, I am not saying we are untouched by loss, sadness, and even violation of being at times. These things are a part of existence. But they are emotions, experiences, not identity. </p>
<p>You are truly resplendent. You are beauty itself. You are intricately designed both as an individual and as an intended contributor to the community of earth. Relax into Love’s embrace, and be. Just be. And when you do, and you feel the breath of Love draw your face to the face of another, stick around long enough to let them lower the bridge. Choose to be present. Choose to know. Choose Love.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/56138892019-01-26T11:05:29-07:002019-01-26T21:53:17-07:00Will You Be My Valentine?<p> </p>
<p>Will You Be My Valentine </p>
<p>I woke up alone this morning. It’s ok. I’m single. The alarm clock is the first voice I hear every morning. Anything else would be unusual. Yesterday I made a post with a rose background for an upcoming gig I have the weekend before Valentine’s Day. This morning I posted it. It’s routine. The roses in the photo were from a bouquet my sister in law had given me. It was a beautiful gesture. It was a little thing to do, but a huge thing for my heart. </p>
<p>It’s still two weeks away, so the “I hate Valentine’s Day” rhetoric hasn’t yet begun to fly around, I wish it never would. I don’t hate Valentine’s day. I never have. It’s a love fest. Who could hate a love fest? But for much of humanity exposed to the concept, it’s a lack of love concept. Single. Alone. Lonely. Ah… is that a list or a progression? List. People can be in relationships and be lonely. I’m not jealous of that. I’ve been that woman. I’ve met that man. </p>
<p>Lonely is not about the lack of someone to be with. It is deeper than that. It’s the desire to connect with someone who wants to know you. Someone who finds out all about you and still chooses to be with you. Someone who sees your soul, awakens your spirit. Is with you. Spiritual contexts the world over suggest that this intimacy is something that flows out of oneness with nature, or God, or the Universe, or… that which is beyond us. I don’t think that is entirely untrue, but observation dictates we in the flesh are not alone on earth. </p>
<p>I grew up in the church, having a contradictory underlying pressure to be married and have a family contrasted with the vocally expressed sentiment that we find our all in Christ, and are never alone. Expressing that you need people to not be lonely is somehow wimpy spirituality. </p>
<p>Um. God did not stop at Adam, and at that point in the narrative, there were Three in the Trinity loving on One Human. The One who is that human’s very life decided it was not good for man to be alone. He put him to sleep, and and then awakened him to see one equal and opposite. He made balance happen. And He began, with those two, to build a community of people with hands and arms and feet, and mouths, and senses like taste, touch, and smell, hearing, seeing. We humans have cognitive functions that make connecting easy. Language, music, food, art, all expressions of a desire to connect. You don’t have to believe in God to want to be a part of something. However if you do, just where should love without reservation stop flowing, exactly? </p>
<p>I think our western culture, buried in identity crisis lobbying for rights to the exclusion and detriment of those around us is a scream to be seen, known and heard. But that’s not how it’s done. Being human is so much more basic than that. I am of value to you, you are of value to me. Our differences provide balance. Our rough edges grating on each other have amazing ways of bringing about healing in wounds left festering. How many songs have been written asking the question of “do you love me?” We want our lonely days to be over. But we don’t want to be the one who is vulnerable first. We want to be seen, but we aren’t willing to let the windows to our soul be washed with our own tears. We want someone to identify with what makes us angry, have what pity party we are currently engaged in validated. </p>
<p>But what if we just were. What if we became open, human, willing to just be. What if our outward gaze was gentle? What if we saw people? Just people? Not someone’s Valentine, but our own, even in the mirror? What if love could just be love. Then I would have to love me, and love you as I do myself. O, don’t get me wrong, the right voice would be preferable to an alarm clock. But I am only as alone as I let myself get. My neighbours have and arms and hands and feet. Family that lives far away has ears and a mouth, and would love a phone call. And you, have eyes, and are reading this. You know who you are. Does the person nearest you share that pleasure? Do you believe it is a pleasure? You can choose to. No matter how alone your behaviour may have made you, you are still there… who you were before life got it’s claws into you is still who you are. </p>
<p>Go back to the days when you carefully wrote a cute card for everyone in the class… even the teacher. There was a time even your calloused heart saw people. Will you, be my Valentine?</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/55628582018-12-20T11:28:33-07:002018-12-31T14:20:56-07:00A Thrill of Hope<p>I’ve never stood in a food bank line, or spent the night on the street. I haven’t had a moment when I could honestly say my cupboards were bare, though at times the larder has been lean. I and my children leave the house in clothing that is clean, fits, and is in good repair. And there always seems to be enough. Enough opportunities for God to be the Father to the Fatherless, and Husband to the Widow. I realize that divorce is not the death of a spouse, just the end of the marriage, but the result is the same. One human doing the work of two… too little butter on too much bread. I’ve been asked if I budget? Well. That depends… I try not to spend, and have witnessed many “watching God” moments. Does that count? I try to save for a rainy day. </p>
<p>There’s been a lot of rainy days this year. I’ve heard it stormed for many in my town, my province, my country. Many of us a reminding ourselves that the festivities of this Christmas are about people, not things. Some of us, just to cope with our physical poverty. Others to save themselves from excess. </p>
<p>I am not in the latter category. I replaced boots this week that had been leaking since last spring… because I am able to return the leaky boots. Enough. The same day, I had someone ask me if I was all set for Christmas. My brain immediately began comparing my situation to others less fortunate. I gave the comparative answer. “Right now we are ok.” And we are. Roof over head, clothes on backs, food, gas. But today, I bought the boots I should have been able to buy last spring. And I should have been Christmas shopping on this one trip to the city with no small appendages equipped with eyes. But I didn’t. This month was the only month in the last 12 with enough work in it. Enough. It’s beginning to sound like a mantra. </p>
<p>If my whining hasn’t lost your attention by now (I sound like a go fund me campaign, and I hate that)… I will get to the point. I’ve been doing this alone for nearly six years. In that time I have been asked how I’m doing many times. I have given the comparative answer every time. I should never have given the comparative answer. I should never have been asked. </p>
<p>Humanity has been placed in union with her Maker. Some believe this, some don’t. I think the proof is in the pudding. Someone thought to ask. More than once. If they’re asking me, they’re asking many others. All of whom, though choosing not to beg on a street corner… may have been doing the stress dance in front of the Maker for weeks on end. Their cup is out. You noticed their sign. We all notice… the neighbour who never mows their lawn, or shovels their walk. The windows that go unwashed. The muffler that sounds counterproductive, the weeds masquerading as trees, the heads that duck in response to a wave. People who won’t meet your eyes when you ask how they are doing. We notice the kids that run free when they should be in bed, and the ones making life difficult for mamas in the grocery store. But in this society of comparisons, when a person has already had to apply for a subsidy. Or shop in a food bank. Or scour thrift stores for clothing. Who wants to admit that they cannot provide more than enough for their family? </p>
<p>Aha, you say, it’s not lack of willingness to help, it’s pride. </p>
<p>Poverty can’t afford pride. It pays in shame. And shame is a feeling of unworthiness. Which is a lie. Because we are all worthy of help. Every person you have thought might need help, does. Don’t ask them to weigh their worth by asking if they need help. Help. Shovel the walk. Mow the grass. Knock on the door and get to know that single mama. Pull the weeds. Make a friend of the stranger. Put money in their hand. Leave gifts on the front step (unless you only ever see them use the back door). These are not empty gestures. They are expressions of Divine Love. They are the thing that does not ask someone if they think they are worthy of help, it reminds them that they are seen, loved and worthy. They are the things that keep them going. They are the difference between the oppressive darkness of being alone and realizing you are part of a community. </p>
<p>Shatter the darkness in your community. And if you know they are too ashamed… Covert giving works. Support their business. Encourage them to use the gifts you have seen in them with tangible interaction and engagement. Reinforce their value as a person if they are unemployed. Sometimes that means buying from an artist instead of just telling them they’re really good (sorry, I could not resist that one). Hire their kids to shovel your walk. Organize a neighbourhood clean up project, include them, and start with their yard. Invite them over for dinner. Give their child the bike yours has outgrown, and have it serviced first so it won’t squeak its way down the street. You have the genius of the Universe and were designed to bless others. Use it. </p>
<p>And if you are living with enough, be open to abundance coming in unexpected ways. Answer honestly. If they are asking, they noticed. Our culture is crappy at this, it won’t change if we stay here. Give out of your abundance. Everyone has a minute to listen and a smile. Everyone can be the person with the good attitude and the encouraging word. Everyone can say thank you. We who need, can judge those who do not give. But have we shut them down? I have said before that my Father owns all the cows, and some are just in other people’s pastures. Well, some people’s fences need mending and their cows got away. Round them up, return them, and mend the fence. </p>
<p>Christmas is about Gifts. Good Gifts. Gifts of Love. Gifts of Peace. Gifts of affirmed identity. He appeared and the Soul felt it’s worth, and with it came a Thrill of Hope.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/55424512018-12-06T09:36:49-07:002018-12-06T09:36:49-07:00Ever Increasing Grey<p>It’s the reality of our descent to nothingness that drives me to write this morning (poetry ensues, sarcasm there is intended). In all of our petty offences, we’ve forgotten the beauty in diversity, and the expression of life that we all are. There is unity in our uniqueness, it offers a sweet interconnected dependence that enriches existence. We have taken upon ourselves, in this era or rights and entitlement, the perfect expression of our insecurities. I wonder how much of our quest for equality actually stems from the deep set fear that we are not enough, and someone else is the perfectly written character foil for all that we lack. </p>
<p>And yet expression of lack denies our true title. Our very essence. For we actually lack nothing. Our Father owns all the cows. He put some in my yard, and some in yours. And he did it with perfect intention. He even arranged it so that I might have water in my yard, and in yours, good grass. He is tricky in his plot… We think we’re alone, and the grass is always greener over there. But we are not. All the fences have gates. It behooves us to work the latch. </p>
<p>You can argue all you like with my world view. Let me know where you think it’s askew. I’d be happy to converse, but the truth is, humanity is at it’s best when we work together. When we pull from our strengths instead of forcing the weak to carry their own burdens. We may find later that their strength lightens our own load. </p>
<p>I am not what you are. I am very gloriously my self. It is both a relief and an amazement. I am also not the sum total of my painful experiences. Woven into that story is beautiful healing, an unlearning, if you will, of all that destroys and would wound another. I am not those layers, I am designed for unreserved interconnected unity. A very direct expression of Divine Love. Only I cannot love you as myself, unless I do. I cannot see you in that same light without first embracing the reality in myself. </p>
<p>Reality is beautiful, but we must choose to look.</p>
<h2><span class="font_small"><strong>Ever Increasing Grey, a Reflection on Christmas </strong></span></h2>
<p>You can whine. </p>
<p>I don’t want to </p>
<p>You can complain </p>
<p>I don’t see the point </p>
<p>take every day </p>
<p>the plans that we make </p>
<p>and pour melter </p>
<p>on my winter wonderland. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I like Christmas </p>
<p>I like Love </p>
<p>I like remembering </p>
<p>Who came from above </p>
<p>to remind us all </p>
<p>He was actually here </p>
<p>All that awayness </p>
<p>the culmination of fear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I like the romance </p>
<p>of a crackling fire </p>
<p>the soft cozy feelings </p>
<p>that kindle desire </p>
<p>I like when this one day </p>
<p>flows into another </p>
<p>sunset to sunrise </p>
<p>without waking soul slumber.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lights and the candles </p>
<p>the smells so delicious </p>
<p>the smell of the pine trees </p>
<p>surprises suspicious </p>
<p>I like the whole package </p>
<p>tied up in the bow </p>
<p>Of calling it Christmas </p>
<p>with or without snow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So take your correctness </p>
<p>and with it romance </p>
<p>enjoy your fine world </p>
<p>where we all wear the pants </p>
<p>mind you, the same ones </p>
<p>we don’t want to offend </p>
<p>or reflect our uniqueness </p>
<p>for the party might end.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>and we all might go off in a huff </p>
<p>and call it celebration </p>
<p>of the ever increasing grey </p>
<p>and the imminent blasé.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joy to the World. </p>
<p>All the Boys and Girls now.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/55245432018-11-22T15:46:11-07:002018-11-22T15:46:11-07:00Ready to Bloom<p><i>This, by title is supposed to be prose. However, just as not all moments are made for songs, not all expressions are independent of the poem. No Rose plant is all blossom, petals soft, fragrant and vibrant. It hosts also thorns and leaves. The painful and the mundane. Perhaps today is, for me such a day, and in it, I needed a way out of the fog of ambiguous emotion. I write in these moments. so much is said about mental health in the public forum these days. Our mental health, emotional wellbeing, spiritual connection is just that, ours. But it is not necessarily private. Secrets, I have found, breed isolation. Do I think all the details of what put me here pertinent? No. details are for a trusted few. But the blanket feeling... my transparency may normalize your pain, and bring it into the light where it may be healed. And So, <strong>Ready to Bloom: </strong></i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>My emotions are not where I want them </p>
<p>I crave happy </p>
<p>but I sit between grief and sadness </p>
<p>feels a whole lot like depression </p>
<p>and a little like anxiety. </p>
<p>and frankly </p>
<p>I want it to stop. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>but what happens if I sit here for a minute </p>
<p>lie as a body bowed to emotions longs to do </p>
<p>and just breathe in love </p>
<p>and out sorrow? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I let go. </p>
<p>Of things too long held. </p>
<p>weariness too long strong </p>
<p>exhausted nerves </p>
<p>that no longer wish </p>
<p>to work so hard at holding together </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If You let go… </p>
<p>nothing </p>
<p>If I, in You let go… </p>
<p>all is still held together. </p>
<p>but I am not so heavy. </p>
<p>I am not weighed down. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Let’s go inside </p>
<p>shall we? </p>
<p>perhaps deeper </p>
<p>under the emotion </p>
<p>under the veneer of experience. </p>
<p>you and I together </p>
<p>and be. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>who was I before<em> it </em>happened, </p>
<p>that which I now release. </p>
<p>I watch it fall to the ground and crumble </p>
<p>like leaves </p>
<p>off the tree </p>
<p>become soil under the pressure of snow </p>
<p>and out of them grow </p>
<p>new things. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>it’s the new things I want to see. </p>
<p>but they won’t come </p>
<p>If I do not let go </p>
<p>O sorrow, sow joy. </p>
<p>I’m ready to bloom.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/55212842018-11-20T10:10:08-07:002018-11-20T22:24:44-07:00Embrace That Which Blooms<p>In my living room sits a yellow begonia. It blooms continuously all year, and it is free to drop what it is finished with anywhere it chooses. For the pleasure of its company in the sunny and rainy seasons of my heart, I take what it gives me, for its cheery presence as it sits in the rays of that bright orb which gives it life makes my heart smile sweetly. I dote on the plant. I give it the purest water, and a little food, and it grows and blesses me with blossoms. We, have a relationship. All relationships with living things are simple really, if we tend them, they grow. </p>
<p>How precious and and plentiful are the thoughts of the Maker towards me. How sweet His intention for me. How definite and authoritative His expressed opinion of me: ages old and ever new. </p>
<p>You are exquisite. Brilliant. A Reflection of Glory. Resplendent. You are Enough. Amazing. Beautiful. You are Life itself expressed in Creative Design. You Are. Simply. </p>
<p>Some of those words are easy to hear, some hang in the air without concrete link to anything perceivable. Unbelievable. Your mirror shows no such reflection. Your assessment of yourself bears no such encouragement. You look inside and see scars. labels. your past. your present struggles. pain. </p>
<p>O, but You Are. There is freedom in depth. Life in understanding. Dreams among wisdom. And it isn’t somewhere in the illusive “out there,” but in the centre. In the silence. You are not as you have been. You are as you are now. </p>
<p>Pain is a bittersweet companion. Over the course of life it both breathes out that you are commonly human, and takes in that you are part of a greater whole, sustained by that which you breathe in. For pain does not kill you, it lets you know you are alive. It provides the perfect foil for pleasure. Without it, we would never know the joy of being comforted. </p>
<p>This is random, I suppose, in some ways an awkward conglomerate of thoughts. But perhaps they tie together. You are not alone. I am not alone. Not even alone, are we solitary. Our relationships are what we make of them. Pain hidden away erects prison bars for our own being. Pain embraced and exposed brings connection. Notice I do not mind cleaning up what the plant no longer requires. It is safe to drop what no longer blooms, to let go, to embrace that which comes in its place, revealing greater beauty. It is safe to be bold yellow in the sunlight and be seen. To imagine there is space to grow. That the Sun is there for You! Oh what release that brings. The Sun will shine anyway. Be who you are. Defer to the opinion of the Maker. Live out of the Healer, not the dictates of pain, let it serve its purpose and then release it. Embrace that which blooms in its place. It is the present, and we get to choose to be in it.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/54933082018-10-30T21:31:49-06:002022-03-11T07:48:38-07:00Go Unveiled<p>I had to shower. Put on make-up. Choose clothes that made me look put together. I had to look well. So I wouldn’t be asked. It was a mask I donned. Partially to hide pain, but mostly to shadow the light of the healing. Strange really, but when the most objectionable part of your personality is confidence in a place that demands a self abasing humility, a false sense of unworthiness, you rarely express you. Especially if you are healthy, and know your own worth. </p>
<p>Interesting how the church can escape being the Body. </p>
<p>So much of what Jesus said asked people to stand and be who they are. Humanity loves the humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord part of the song, but we seem not to understand that when He lifts us up, it looks like… A person with a voice unique to them. Ask Isaiah. Ask Jesus. Ask Paul. Love, Grace, Peace… Confidence. He, the Light of Men, the Breath of God, is my very Life. I am a joint Heir with Christ. I am safely tucked into all that is Love. Whom shall I fear? For are all not safely tucked into His Love? Himself? </p>
<p>Somewhere in there, the Divine He, has become the Divine We. The greatest lie ever told was separation. He from us, me from you. All humans from the rest of creation. We can believe we individually are set apart, we who believe. We who have tasted, have seen. We who sit at the table and yet are too scared to own the fork and dig in to the meal. For now, is it not I who do my own cooking? Does the catered meal not come later, after I have truly shared in His suffering, and left mortality for immortality and been made as He is? Leave this shoddy body behind and embrace an unhindered eternity? </p>
<p>But look around… why are there so many empty chairs? And name cards of those I have not met yet? And why are there so many doors, all open? No one is checking invitations! And clearly, someone made a mistake with that name. I saw the news. Why is the security absent in the palace? It should be protecting, sorting, vigilant. Keeping the lot of us who are called separate from those who are not. </p>
<p>O. humility. What if that act of sanctification really is not about my response? What if it really was finished in Christ, whose death swallowed death, Whose resurrection brought life to light. Who preached unity even before He died, embracing not just those we saw as clean, but those who lived gutter existence… before they had a bath. </p>
<p>What if the welcome mat for heaven is covered in muddy footprints. What if being unsullied by the world has more to do with consciously avoiding division in our thinking and embracing the oneness of All that is made and held together in Him, who is Life and Love. What if my identity is rooted in the collective, and it is possible to love my neighbour even as I am loving myself. And throwing off everything that hinders is less about the sin I groom and more about the lies I believe that put me in the position to trust my Life so little, and refuse to see His glory. </p>
<p>What if I could go unveiled. O, I want to. Bittersweet Life! If only it didn’t cause my brother to stumble… we could enjoy it together.</p>Melissa Rempeltag:melissarempelmusic.com,2005:Post/54683172018-10-13T11:55:00-06:002018-10-13T20:50:40-06:00And Pray She Wants You To<p>A recent trip to the land of memes and I found, well, nothing but negativity. Which avenue did I stroll down, you may ask… dating after 40. It’s true, the grey hair is not a fashion statement, God just gave me the expensive highlights hairdressers are making a killing off of. And, you, by now have guessed it… I fall into that been in love before, but not at present, strata of society labeled single. Unfortunately, though, I am not a part of the unsullied, “I put my career first” euphemism of the modern “old maid,” but rather the differently experienced, “I left a BAD one, and so now I have some really healthy boundaries” category.</p>
<p>There are many of us. Some are simply called divorced, others single parents, some long term relationship veterans, but never married… And we all carry baggage. For some of us, it has become a light load; not much more than memories contained in the actual bag, and it’s only the luggage that makes a statement. The “still a mother of two steamer trunk” or a “no need for roots, I’m fancy free carry on attache case” and still the “travelling light, good for the night, valise.” There are more, you know what yours is, I don’t have to tell you.</p>
<p>My difficulty isn’t the shape or size, it’s more the assumption of the weight contained. Imagine if one went to an airport with a suitcase full of feather pillows and a down duvet. It was the same size as a fellow traveller’s, who needed the wheels on his because it was filled with foundation bricks. He, being first in line, had his heavy burden weighed, and he was charged for the extra weight. The attendant then looked at your bag, and without even placing it on the scale, attached the same price to yours. One is fair and just, the other… well, there might be a lawsuit.</p>
<p>I don’t think dating as a full fledged grown up is any different. There’s a question asked as part of the screening process, and being a woman, I hear it mostly from guys… although I have heard it expressed at hen parties in more of a gossip statement, so we probably all say it in some form. “Why are you single?” It’s not usually in the “I just met you, and your face is pretty” conversation, It follows somewhere after you have made him laugh and he starts feeling slightly comfortable and commitment caution kicks in. Gentlemen, correct if I am wrong, I am not in your head… However, judging by the number of men who find a reason not to call after that subject has been breached, I’ve decided it’s a screening system. You see, we all seem to want a relationship virgin. We want to find someone to pick out luggage with. We definitely don’t want to carry someone else’s baggage. I think, perhaps because like the attendant at the airport, we make the mistake of assuming that everyone else is carrying the same weight we are.</p>
<p>But…What if? What if some of us don’t define ourselves by our experiences? What if there is an intrinsic worth assigned to each of us. What if that man or woman with the matching valise was made stronger, or wiser, or more resilient, or kinder or peaceful because of the perspective gained in the processing of unpacking the bag? What if the status of a person does not actually declare the weight they carry? What if that person who left an awful marriage discovered their value and has those boundaries because they now know who they were created to be? What if the mud in the pit they were in became the bricks that built the stairs they walked out of the hole with? What if the kids they have sole custody of were part of what taught them that they could love and receive love, and give when it hurts and still not completely dry up inside? What if their experience of being lonely in a relationship taught them to go deep enough inside to find Spirit and it connects them now to all humanity in a more meaningful, empathic way, spurring compassion in their actions?</p>
<p>What if it isn’t someone else’s baggage you are afraid of? What if it’s your own?</p>
<p>I think that, “Why are you single?” question should be an opportunity to tell your story. I think that your story should be voluntarily told before you are allowed to ask that question. We all have a story… all of us came out of the womb. We grew up in a family situation of some sort, had a first crush, figured out what we could or wanted to do to make a living… Each experience lends either wounding or healing to the soul. It provides a platform to discover who we are designed to be. Grown up relationships aren’t for our comfort, al though we may find comfort in them. They are for our growth as humans.</p>
<p>So tell your story. Admit the bad. Take responsibility for your part in it. But don’t camp out there. Tell the story about the trip your soul took. Make the destination about who you have become. How your rough edges have been made smooth. How you have learned to love. And if that isn’t possible… maybe it’s time to accept the healing held out to you when you think you are alone in your loneliness, so the next time you tell your story, you know WHO you are. You know who is telling it, and you are prepared, not only to hear another one tell you their tale, but to love the person who is telling it. They may not become who your heart settles on, but be willing to be a compassionate part of another’s journey.</p>
<p>A word to the men we women truly want, If this all feels a little vulnerable, here’s a little encouragement. If you ask a girl why she’s single, be prepared for an answer that may require you to be the man who changes her mind about love. And pray she wants you to. It’s been my experience that she most likely does.</p>Melissa Rempel