True Adventure: Fear in the Dentist's Chair - A Turning Point - Post 3

(continued… click here for post 1, post 2)

Now I understand better the relationship between spiritual awakening and illness, including tooth decay.  Awakening causes a major and irreversible shift in identity – it can change one’s role in society and one’s concept of self.  This is part of the reason awakening can be psychologically and emotionally stressful. 

In some of us this shift occurs more slowly and in others the transformation is very quick.  Likewise, there is a physical component to consciousness.  When our consciousness changes at a core level we can experience physical changes along with mental, emotional and spiritual changes.  One way to understand the physical component of consciousness is to consider that different parts of the body hold or are correlated with different emotions and aspects of self.  As a general matter teeth hold our attachment to our identities.  (In The Subtle Body by Cindi Dale - see page 377 - the author includes a diagram pinpointing which emotional issues can underlie disease in individual teeth).   

In my case, spiritual transformation was - and, for that matter, continues to be - quick.  These rapid changes meant that I needed to process large amounts of emotional energy to maintain physical - including tooth - health!  Ten or so years ago, however, it was just dawning on me that I had a spiritual self.  This was the extent of my insight into the process!  As a result, I was frightened, as if my teeth might fall, en mass from my gums, in a landslide of enamel, pulp and nerves!  I was too young - I felt - to be considering false teeth, implants or bridges!

Driven by the commands of the dentist and my own fear, I brushed and flossed at every opportunity.  I began gargling religiously with a mixture of hydrogen peroxide and water hoping to kill the dastardly decaying- causing bacteria before it had a chance to go to work on my teeth.  Yet, the situation continued to spin out of control with additional crowns, more decay and a firm promise of future work necessary to maintain the integrity of my mouth. 

During one visit, I asked my dental hygienist if there was anything more effective than hydrogen peroxide at preventing decay.  The hygienist looked at me with grave and sympathetic eyes.  She shook her head slowly as if to say "no".  Then she replied sadly, “Only Listerine.”   

And so I switched to gargling with Listerine.  Still, the decay kept coming....

Yet, in this moment, when I heard from the hygienist that there was nothing certain I could do to stop the spread of disease in my mouth, I experienced a turning point.  In this moment, when I should have given up all hope, things began to turn around.  In this moment, I made a decision.

(for more, see next post)

True Adventure: Fear in the Dentists’ Chair - I Must Ask Your Forgivenes - Post 2

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Here I must ask your forgiveness.  As it turns out, the phrase I used to explain why I did not go to the dentist for the roughly 8 years leading up to 2011 - “my teeth had begun falling out of my mouth” – was an embellishment, though not by much.  A decade or so ago, around the turn of the century, spiritual awakening took hold and tooth decay surged in my mouth. 

Since childhood, I have had nightmares in which I have the wrong number of teeth, or, sometimes, my teeth fall out as easily as rows of dominos falling against a table top.  In these dreams, I catch my teeth in the palm of one hand and look down to see that their roots are coated in a pale sheen of blood.  Occasionally, I have awoken from these dreams to find myself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, heart pounding and mouth open, examining my molars. 

However, the phrase, “my teeth had begun falling out of my mouth,” is descriptive of more than an emotional and psychological state; it alludes to something deeper than a sense of anxiety and helplessness.  Though no teeth were lost in this dramatic bout of awakening, the dentist’s chair became an abode, a place where I lived and faced myself, a leather-upholstered sanctuary cum sanitarium where I was forced by medical necessity - and the fact that my mouth was filled with dental damns, suction devices, and the dentist’s latex-covered fingers – into silence and from there into reflection. 

As a child, my teeth were prone to decay. The culprit was as much, I suspect, a diet of sugary and refined foods as a lifestyle of over-activity and identity development based on social expectations more than an authentic sense of self.  As a result, long hours at the dentist’s office on sunny summer days, the force of the drill against my small jaw, and overdoses of nitrous oxide were as much a part of my childhood as Captain Crunch cereal, cinnamon-sugar-white-bread toast and Saturday morning cartoons.  This confluence of dentistry and sugar left me – and at least one other sibling - with “mouth trauma” and firm habit of avoiding the dental chair.

As an adult, in the throes of awakening, I squirmed in the dentist's chair and asked for extra injections of Novocaine to numb the pain.  For several appointments in a row, shock and fear registered within the soft brown facial features of the dentist.  Once, she furrowed her brow, drew a sharp breath and whispered, “Oh my god!”  With her mouth formed into an O, and her black eyes darting up to the face of the dental hygienist sitting across my belly from her, she dug her dental pick deeper into the now soft portions of a tooth whose decay ran to the root.  When she removed her tools from my mouth, a tear ran down my cheek.  I expressed remorse for the preceding 8 years of dental self-neglect.  At this, she muttered a grim promise before rushing me off to a nearby root canal specialist, “We will do everything we can to save the tooth.”  

Another time, the flesh of gums around new crowns was dying due to inadequate blood circulation even when the crown was only months old.  One night, I had eaten a cookie and fallen asleep with crumbs in my mouth.  Within a few weeks decay had crept under the new crown necessitating a filling on the already compromised tooth and a replacement crown.  In this phase of awakening and decay, it was as if my earlier nightmares of ill-tooth loss were manifesting in my waking life. I was scared. 

(for more see next post....)

True Adventure: Fear in the Dentists’ Chair

On a cold morning in February 2011 I sat shivering on the 23^rd floor of the Muni Tower in Downtown Seattle.  Gateway Dental in Seattle had done everything possible to make patients comfortable.  I reclined in a dental chair, that if memory serves, was upholstered in deep purple leather.  The chair faced a wall of pane glass.  I took in views of the surrounding architecture and the lake beyond, including snippets of pink and orange from the fading sunrise reflecting off the surface of the lake.  As the hygienist, Lolita, took x-rays of my mouth the catchy, piped-in music was a pleasant distraction from sharp-edged rectangles of film and the intrusive plastic ring that held them there between my molars. 

It was Monday and the weekend had been cold - 25 degrees at night, 37 degrees average for the day. One of the Gateway staff – a woman who helps clients navigate insurance when they have it and figure out how to pay for things when they don’t - mentioned that heat in the building had been turned off since Friday at closing.  That morning, the building - still in the process of warming up – was chilly.  However, cold wasn’t the only reason I shivered.  Fear also had me quaking.  You see, I had not been to the dentist in 8 or so years.  I know I am not supposed to admit this, but it is the truth.

  

Why? Why did I stop seeing the dentist. Truthfully, because my teeth had begun falling out of my mouth.

(for more, see next post)

Messages From Angels - Hold the Bus: Angels in the Driver's Seat - (post 6 of 6)

Note: One of my favorite parts of my spiritual job description is when I am asked to be a messenger for benevolent angelic forces. I often receive messages for people whose angels or spiritual guardians ask me to communicate when it is a matter of urgency or they are having a hard time getting through to their human counterparts. Many of these people are strangers to me and our interactions last only moments. These messages can be warnings of illness or accident.  They can also be intended to clarify or give direction. Whatever they are, I play my role as messenger faithfully.


(continued… click here for post 1, post 2, post 3, post 4, post 5)

“You will see that the pain comes and goes in waves. Over time you learn to work with it. Use flower essences. You have to take care of yourself.” Then I was prompted to say, “When you have been abused it can be difficult to tell demons from God.”

“I am having such a hard time with God right now,” he said, “because He let it happen.”

“I know. It’s natural to have trouble with God under these circumstances. You just have to work through it. You can do it. There is hope for you.”

He looked at the bottle and then asked, “Do I need to stay on my medication?”

I listened for an answer and repeated, “Yes.”

His face fell in disappointment.

“I know you don’t like it but it is necessary right now,” I replied.

The bus arrived at our stop and we exited.  My heart was full, with equal parts of pain and the desire to overcome it. My time with this man in the red shirt had come to an end. I let him walk away. Under the yellow light of a street lamp I watched him walk up the hill and into the dark of the neighborhood with the small brown bottle clutched firmly in one hand. He walked upright and I saw that he had regained some hope and at that moment he was determined to conquer his situation. I realized also that the next thing I would have said if the bus ride had not ended was, “Don’t kill yourself.”

And if he had asked ‘Why not?’ I would have said, “Because you hold a spot in creation and we will feel it when you die. Because my heart will break. Because everyone deserves a good death.”

Messages From Angels - Hold the Bus: Angels in the Driver's Seat - (post 5 of 6)

Note: One of my favorite parts of my spiritual job description is when I am asked to be a messenger for benevolent angelic forces. I often receive messages for people whose angels or spiritual guardians ask me to communicate when it is a matter of urgency or they are having a hard time getting through to their human counterparts. Many of these people are strangers to me and our interactions last only moments. These messages can be warnings of illness or accident. They can also be intended to clarify or give direction. Whatever they are, I play my role as messenger faithfully.

(continued .... click here for post 1, post 2, post 3, post 4)


The disbelief in his voice signaled not only that he knew that not everyone is raped as a child but that he believed his pain marked him as different and his wound as irreparable.

“Everyone has parts of themselves that are wounded, decimated,” I clarified, “I was molested as a child.”
The brief silence that followed was laden with the recognition that we had fought and survived the same war.

I continued with the message. “There is hope for you.” I could see that this man needed immediate help and also some clues as to where to go in the future. The Angels directed me to offer him a small gift.  “Here, wait. I want to give you something. I have something for you that will help you.” I put my hand in my backpack and began rummaging for a small bottle.

I pulled out a brown bottle with a yellow label that read, “Bach Rescue Remedy, Flower Essences.” Rescue Remedy helps with stress. Flower essences in general have the gift of knitting, stitch by stitch, souls back together.

“You need flower essences,” I said. 

Though it was already opened and partially used, I handed him the bottle. “Here, take this,” I said, “It’s Rescue Remedy. It will calm you down, give you a new perspective. There is a little alcohol in there. When you finish this, go in search of other flower essences. They have a million different kinds. They have them for issues with your father, trauma, sexual abuse. You just have to search them out. You will have to search them out.”

“Where can I get them?” he asked, as he accepted the bottle.

“Go to a health food store. Bring that bottle. Ask the salesperson to show you their flower essences. Ask for a book on them. Start reading. You’ll have to search them out. If you need to, get some help with understanding them.”

“What are these?” he asked.

I would have said “the souls of flowers” but before I could, he asked another question.
“Are they expensive?”

I pointed to the bottle in his hand.  “That was $17.00. Others are less expensive.”

“You’re giving me something that costs $17.00?”

“Yes.”

His voice rose. In response, he nearly shouted, “What are you?! Some kind of angel?!” Then he said, “I’ve been looking for answers and I’m having a hard time finding them.”

“That’s why you’ve got to deal with your pain. The pain and the answers live in the same place. If you avoid one you avoid the other.”

“Wait! Say that again? I want to understand.”

“Think of your subconscious as a soup pot. In this pot with a heavy lid is all your pain. Mixed into the soup of your pain are all the answers you’ve been looking for. You’re going to have to lift that lid off and stir up the pain to find the answers. Does that make sense? I know it’s a lot to ask. It’s just the way it is.”

“But how can I do it? How can I handle it?”

(For more, see next post)

Messages From Angels - Hold the Bus: Angels in the Driver's Seat - (post 4 of 6)

Note: One of my favorite parts of my spiritual job description is when I am asked to be a messenger for benevolent angelic forces. I often receive messages for people whose angels or spiritual guardians ask me to communicate when it is a matter of urgency or they are having a hard time getting through to their human counterparts. Many of these people are strangers to me and our interactions last only moments. These messages can be warnings of illness or accident. They can also be intended to clarify or give direction. Whatever they are, I play my role as messenger faithfully.

(continued… click here for post 1, post 2, post 3)

“You have mental health issues,” I said continuing eye contact and lowering my voice to create a gentle impact.
In response, he asked, “Who is talking to you?” 

“Your angels,” I replied.

“My…..?” He stopped in mid-sentence with a shocked look on his face. Once again he clutched the fabric of his shirt in his hand.

“They’re out there,” I said.  

He stared at me wordlessly, the look of shock lingering on his face.

Because many of the people to whom I am asked to deliver messages are strangers, I do not understand fully what it is about each individual that motivates the Angels to bring us together. I do believe that each person who receives a message is spiritually open and willing to listen, although the degree of willingness and openness varies.  I also believe that each person who receives a message has been praying, meditating, or searching for direction, answers or help. Each individual has his or her own way of communicating with the Divine.  Each is different in the degree of conscious recognition given to Divine influences.  I believe that the Angels take into consideration all of these factors when deciding how I am to deliver a message, the circumstances under which I am to deliver it and what I am to say.  This in turns allows for the greatest amount of assistance and help to be offered.

With respect to the man in the red shirt on the bus, I sensed that while it was vital that he understood that the Divine exists and cares for him, the idea that angelic beings were going so far as to send personalized messages was a bit overwhelming. I was also cognizant of the fact that I had a limited amount of time to deliver the message. Hoping to put him at ease while keeping the conversation on track, I rephrased my answer, “Okay, let’s just say angels. I’m listening to angels.” 
 
This seemed to put him at ease. “I do have mental health issues” he confirmed, “from the abuse. What else do you see about my health?”

I sensed only a discomfort in the stomach area.  “Digestive?” I offered.

“No. Well, my stomach hurts right now. Because you’re freaking me out!”

“Are you on lithium?”

“No. I was on lithium.  Now the lithium, the lithium made my stomach hurt!” he said laughing. “Now I’m on another medication!”

“Oh, okay, because I knew it was mental health issues because the world ‘lithium’ was jumping out of your head when you asked about your health issues. I’m not getting anything else about your health.”

“Oh good. I’m glad. I’ve had heart issues, so if you don’t see anything….”

“You’ve got to deal with your pain,” I said, continuing with the message.

“I don’t think I can.”

“You can,” I reassured him.

“I don’t want to feel it anymore.”

“I know, but you’ve got to. It’s the only way out. You can do it. As for the alcohol, you need to stop drinking. What you are using to self-medicate, to help you deal with the pain, it is hurting you. There are other ways to help yourself. We all have parts of us that are fragmented from trauma, that can’t hold it together. Not all of us have the immediate opportunity to heal those wounds.”

“Everyone is raped by another man?” he asked.  

(For more, see next post)