testing 3/25/15

testing 3/25/15

The Voice

The phone rings…a number I do not recognize. 

I pick up the receiver reluctantly, for reasons I don’t yet understand.

It is the filmmaker again….this time calling from Germany. 

He still surfaces from time to time.  His last call had come from South America.

Japan before that.  Prior to that, England, Saudi Arabia, India, Bali and other exotic places.
    

He calls to hear my voice, he says.  It sends him into a kind of ecstasy. 

If I will only stay on the line with him a little longer, he begs each time...

He even tried to meet me once.  He asked to interview me for his next documentary.

I hesitated, yet was intrigued, not so much by him, but by his subject. 

He was passionately devoted to exploring the ancient practices of Tantra.

I had my own deep-rooted fascination with Tantra.  This man had devoted much of his life

to seeking out and filming the authentic and secret practitioners of Tantric rites. 

I wanted to learn all I could about what he had seen and experienced in India. 

This was a truly unique and rare opportunity to meet with a documentary filmmaker 

who had captured material that would never be available to a western audience.

We agreed to meet finally, but once the plan was set in motion, I had a sense

that he wanted more than a meeting.  He was seeking an experience. 

That was out of bounds for me.  I had made that abundantly clear.

We came from different worlds.  Still, I was intrigued.  

As the day approached, I felt an increasingly strong energetic connection with this stranger. 

I began to receive impressions that were not mine.

It was as if something was bearing down on me. 

At the very least, he was meditating for me and I was coming under his influence. 

He was far more experienced than I was.  These are potent forces with ancient roots.

That power can be misused...  

He was not the first one to recognize something in my voice, but he was the most persistent.  
 

When I told him I lived in a small town in Indiana and that it would be considerably

out of his way to come for a face to face meeting, he was not the least deterred. 

He flew from India to NYC and then to Indianapolis, where he rented a car for the last leg of the journey.

I was becoming more uneasy, but could not find a way to cancel the meeting. 

He was so insistent that we meet.  By this time, I knew something of the depth of his involvement

in his research of tantric devotees.  Too deep for me…possibly too dark, as well.  

Whatever it was that he recognized in me, he wanted it badly enough to come all this way. 

I had to be more careful…more awake and alert. 

He now had more the air of a predator….not an initiator…least of all, a researcher. 

He was trying to make a connection on a deep psychic level. 

I could feel the seduction and the struggle. 
  

It took a concerted effort from a friend who urged me to see things from a different perspective

to break the spell and give him the slip at the last minute.  I came out of it just in time to flee out the back door as he was knocking on the front door.  My friend and I slipped out to watch him from across the street.  He was frantic.  He called repeatedly.  My friend took the call for me. 

She was right all along.  He offered to meet with her…and for sex from the sound of it.

He finally left with an air of hurt and resignation.  He continued to call a few times a year

for several more years…just to listen to my voice. 

I always cut the calls short or challenged him about why he persisted. 

Every conversation was a ruse to keep contact with my voice. 

What was it that he found in my voice?  What was he so aware of?

Why would he fly halfway around the world to hear it in person? 

*****

This is a bit of a phenomenon that I have encountered down through the years.

Perfect strangers will call again and again just to hear my voice. 
It effects them in unexpected ways. 
There is something happening...or someone, perhaps...
They are hungry for it on a deep level.

I know that there are times when something
wonderful flows in alongside my own voice.  
I am not always aware of it at first.  It becomes so apparent that it almost takes over.
There is an incredibly gracious quality in my voice that reaches deep into a person’s soul. 

It is doing something more than I have intended…and it is quite beautiful. 

It just slips in alongside…

*****

Perhaps my most startling story about these events happened many years ago in Japan. 

At that time, I had a fragrance company and was in Japan to find buyers for our products. 

I was in Tokyo for an important business meeting.  It was a new experience for me. 

Doing business in Japan requires a specific etiquette and I was trying my best to do things properly. 
When it was time to meet, I was ushered into a large well-appointed corporate meeting room. 

I sat on one side of the table with a young man who was to be our interpreter. 

Arrayed across from us was the President of the company flanked by 6 department heads

on either side.   It was an imposing scene. 
After our introductions, I nervously took my seat. 

The owner started to ask questions about our company and its products through the interpreter.
I answered carefully and the interpreter relayed my remarks. 

A few minutes into the interview, however, there was a sudden sense of upset.

My interpreter beckoned for me to be quiet in mid-sentence. 

I wondered what I had done wrong.  I had made the dreaded faux pas, perhaps, 

but I could not for the life of me figure out what I said wrong. 

The tension escalated in the room rather dramatically. 
The department heads were visibly upset now.  
My interpreter was now frantically trying to shut me up and I just wasn’t ‘getting it’ fast enough. 
 

Finally I felt a strong hand gripping my arm.  I looked up and saw that it was the President
of the company!   What on earth was happening?!  
He was so upset, my interpreter was beside himself and the other men were horrified. 

His face was red, his eyes were swollen and I looked up to see  tears streaming down his face. 

He was weeping uncontrollably.  Such a show of emotion in Japan was so unexpected. 

For this to happen in a corporate boardroom in front of the other men was unprecedented. 

He was that overcome…   Everyone was in a kind of shock.

Finally the President found a few words of English.
Choking back tears, in halting English, he begged me to be still...
“Stop…please stop…speaking! 

Your voice…your voice… It’s melting my heart.”

Mixing Medicines

Crib Stories...

Crib Stories…


When I was very small…still in diapers…still in a crib…a Voice spoke these words to me:


“You will not be having children.  That is for other people.  Your life will be about other things.”


The Voice was gentle, kind and authoritative.  Not quite male or female…

After that, and for some time afterward, I was shown a series of mental pictures of what they had in mind.

I remember seeing foreign lands and a sense of great potential to help on a large scale-IF I could keep my path straight.

For someone born into the kind of family and circumstances  I was, it was a huge stretch, not only of imagination, but of luck.

But a seed had been planted and a kind of Knowing resulted.   I was blessed with a good intellect and high energy.

It was up to me to do the work and make use of opportunities as I could find them.  I KNEW that. 

How did I know that?   I just did…



I was actually quite happy and excited that my life would be different and that I would be free to do bigger, more important things.

There were plenty of children here, already…the beginnings of overpopulation.

The ones that were already here needed better tending. as it was!  These things were crystal clear in my mind.



As I grew up, I knew that I would have to find a way to not have children. That would take an extreme effort at that time.

I would have to become a nun or a scholar or both…maybe a missionary.  Not many women were exempt.

I learned early on to keep my feelings and thoughts to myself. To act otherwise was to court all kinds of unpleasantness.

I didn’t play with dolls like the other girls nor did I play house incessantly.  That sets you apart pretty quickly.

My nose was stuck in books, quiet pursuits, not chatty ‘silly’ things.  I wasn’t going to play out a fairly mindless script.



The Voice came to me a second time…not too long after the first time.  It instructed me in these words-still vivid…

“The greatest cause of suffering on this plane is the misuse of sexuality…

There was a pause.  “…and you would be well-advised to steer clear of it.”



Those words came as quite a shock. Though I was so young, I knew enough about life to think that war might be the greatest cause of suffering.

Or poverty…  I never would have arrived at this!   But it was uttered with such gravity and certainty.  It was THE bottom line.

My place within the scheme of things was clearly suggested, as well. 



Now why would a child be told such things?  Who is doing the telling?

It would be many decades before I would be introduced to the idea of guides and master teachers.

Pretty serious stuff! 

One might ask why  a baby would be told such things…

And yet, I was…



Those words ‘bent’ my life.  Those words put me on my path.  They rescued me from pain and distortion.  They gave shape and purpose.

They were deep and clear at the time and they had the desired effect.  But they were overrun and nearly lost as I grew up.

At times they were only a dim memory that I myself discounted at I sided with the culture that says children are ignorant-blank slates.

I was 40 before I finally recovered them, dusted them thoroughly and began to give conscious heed to them…conscious respect.

By then I had done some living and I could see plainly that whenever I heeded the Words, my life went well.

When I deviated from them for any reason or failed to take them seriously enough, my life became a disaster.

In fact, I almost lost my life on more than one occasion.

You learn to take Spirit at its Word.

I also made mistakes along the way of misinterpreting the message.

For instance: while the message about not having children was clear enough, I failed for a time to appreciate those for whom it was a calling.

That is not to say that most are called.  Most people just fall into it unthinkingly or because it is expected of them.

The lives they secretly and really wanted to have are shoved aside, their gifts and talents buried.

The message about the misuse of sexuality as the greatest cause of suffering was underscored so strongly

in my life through the attempted sexual molestation of my stepfather (which began early in life) ,the perverted sexuality of my 1^st husband (a preacher’s kid)

and the general callousness and depravity of most men, that I nearly missed the flip side of that coin.

As time went on and I took the issue of sexuality up with the Creator, I was to find that the RIGHT use of sexuality is incomparably beautiful, powerful,

full of mysteries and potentials beyond most people’s imaginings.

 

 

What Children Know...part 4...Remembering...

To give another example of what kids know, I’ll share some of my own story…

Sometimes it helps to jumpstart one’s own remembering to learn how another person got there. 
Some of these realizations are universal in scope.  After all, we have a lot in common.  They ‘fit’. 
Some of you will relate…others will not.  We all have our differing experiences…

First sensations… First memories…

Too loud!  Too bright!  Too harsh!  I jump uncomfortably at everything.
I don’t like this place.  What is the matter with these people?! 
Why is everyone so mean to each other? 
(I feel everyone’s emotions-much of it negative)
I am getting filled up with all these bad feelings…waves that I can’t stop or block.
I have to empty myself of everyone’s bad feelings…I can’t handle all of this…
It is making me sick and nervous.  I cry.
I am afraid of these bad people…
They are stabbing each other with their eyes, punching with their smiles!
I feel like I am in an insane asylum. 
(Now how did I think in such clear terms?  But I remember thinking that quite clearly…)

 

They do ugly things to their bodies (like smoking). 
They make ugly sounds and they like it!  (fighting-swearing)
They want me to be like them, but I will not!!!  
They try to break me down to their level, but I will never go there.
I must fight.
I am soon so miserable, surrounded on all sides, that I can only dimly recall that this is not all there is, but I fight for the goodness inside me.
I must protect it, keep it alive, don’t let anyone see it or they will try to destroy it.
They take pleasure in destroying the good.  I don’t understand.  I don’t understand…  I cry.

 

Desecration is the word I use now as an adult. 
What is it in people that seeks to destroy innocence?
To slap a child that smiles or experiences too much happiness.
To give alcohol to a baby or an animal…  To inflict pain… 
To harm their bodies in so many ways? 
To ruin and mar a clean slate…
There is something evil at work in bringing a child down-in desecrating something pure. 

 

In Bali, a child’s feet never touch the ground for the 1^st year of their lives,
because it is recognized that a soul freshly arrived from heaven
will need time and gentle handling to touch this earth. 
They are lowered slowly and gently into this world…as they should be.
It is not easy to tackle this existence….especially if you are born more sensitive than some…

 

I remember vowing with all my strength that I would NEVER go down.
Even if they succeeded in breaking me or making me do bad things like lying or beating another child
I would not go all the way down.
I would resist, I would pretend…but not very much. 
I would not debase myself or let myself be debased by them. I would somehow stay clean.
I did not want their ugly, unhappy lives with all the fighting and broken down existence.
I did not like the lives they made.  I wanted no part of them.  

 

Don’t go Down, I told myself over and over…don’t go down!

 

Still when I look at people today with their mean lives, disheartened situations,
their distorted bodies, half-destroyed minds and deadened spirits,
I still see the broken down children who were not born that way. 
They were not helped into life.  They were desecrated and beaten down until no memory remains. 
Their dead eyes say so much…
They think this is who they ARE.    It is never true.  But the evidence seems overwhelming.

 

I like to think of the kirlian photography examples of a living leaf surrounding by a strong,
clear white radiance. 
When the leaf is plucked from the stem, it’s radiance diminishes somewhat. There is a little loss of life, but it is still there.
Then that leaf is torn nearly in half.  A chunk of it is missing.  The torn leaf is photographed
once more. 
The shocking thing to all who see it is that the original aura of light that surrounds the leaf
remains whole and perfect!
I think that is true of us, as well.  Life has torn some pieces, an injury occurs, sexual abuse is enacted, 
divorce and death and heartbreak take their toll, but the Original Spirit..the Life Force remains
whole and alive.
What is done TO us does not destroy or even much diminish us. 
If we hold that picture in mind we are still viable. 

As Marcus Aurelius said…"Reject your sense of injury and the injury itself disappears."

As the story goes, as a young and precocious child, I practically began speaking in sentences. 

Given my interior world, that was altogether natural. 
I thought in sentences from the start.
I thought in direct concise concepts. 
Words came later, as needed, to impress something on my waking mind. 
As a baby, I remember having very strong, clear thoughts about the world I had just entered. 
Strong opinions, too.
I remember thinking that I had landed in an asylum of sorts...a world-wide asylum
with few places of sanctuary.
I felt assaulted by the harsh noises around me.  The unbridled insensitivity of most people. 
The crudeness of life and the loutish behavior of people was a constant source of shock and dismay.
I felt a great desire to flee or at least to hide. I spent a lot of time hiding, in fact.
And a lot of time planning my escape.
My mother seemed to sense my delicate nature and she was my early refuge.
She knew what was needed...that is, until she caved in herself.
She took me aside often to reassure me and she tried to protect and nurture, even champion me.
But my dad decided that I was too sensitive and that I needed to be broken of that.
He made it into a family crusade  I was oversensitive… too pure…too fussy.  I was crazy…
Something was wrong with ME for not liking his touch (read molestation), his breath reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke, his beatings doled out daily, our inability to have 'fun' with him in the following moment when his temper was spent.    

Why was my dad so bent on destroying my sensitivity?

Well, that sensitivity was getting in his way.  I felt him.  It was easy.
We children see without meaning to.
A child’s purity just naturally irritates someone who doesn’t want to be seen.
For instance, I always knew when my dad was sneaking around with other women.  
When he was picking a fight with mom so she wouldn’t catch on to him…
or when his guilt was too much…
or when he wanted a reason to leave the house for a few hours to see yet another woman.
Innocence speaks loudly, apparently…
How was I to know?


****
On a lighter note, I was generally spared the banality of baby talk. 
Only the occasional relative or neighbor would coo over me in that strange way that they have.
I always found it ridiculous and demeaning, something to be endured.
I hated their touch, their smells, their rough handling, their horrible manners!
Why did they think they had the right to do that to me?!
I couldn’t wait to get them out of my face!

To this day I still rankle at this ill-conceived practice.  
Children should never be forced into the clutches of anyone they are uncomfortable with-
for any reason.
A parent should protect those boundaries until a person can confidently do it for themselves.
Instead, our families encourage the breaking down of those boundaries.
Untold damage often results.
It is said that 80% of us have been molested…pretty heavy stuff!   
This is where it starts...

What Children Know...part 3...Digging for Truth

 

I think that one of the most important things we can do in this life is to recover that Knowing…
that Original, Authentic Self. 

And here I want to say “Blessed are the Stubborn!”  
You know, some children are hard to break!  They are strong-minded, willful, defiant!
And that is a good thing!  They have a chance of holding onto their truth, their essence.
It is much harder for the child who is softer, more fearful, more compliant. 
For them, it is a longer journey back to Self.

How does one go about recovering one's Self?
What happens if all we can unearth of our original selves are fragments that we are unsure of? 
Actually, that is almost always the case...  Still, it is a legitimate Beginning. 
"Beginning" is a holy enterprise in itself. 
Sometimes we find a whole vase or a weapon or a piece of jewelry, but many times what we find
is broken, seemingly useless amidst messy layers. 
But the ruins call to us of earlier, finer and more illustrious times in our souls.
Once you begin to find those fragments a certain excitement builds, a thirst for knowing who and what we were before we became diminished…before we became cogs in society’s various machineries. 

The Soul is eager to be recognized even if it’s 50 or 60 years later. 
While there is life and energy, there is possibility...
At some point a key is unearthed…something that says ‘Aha!’  THIS is the real me!
I remember...   It may be faint, but it is still there...
Then the chase is on!  You want to recover more! And more!  
You start to see yourself...experience yourself … your True Self. 
The very foundation of your life emerges and a real life can finally be built. 

We are sometimes like a city that has been conquered, destroyed and built upon by successions
of marauding armies. 
Along the way, family, religion, culture, marriages, jobs have all imposed their rule
and sought to destroy what does not serve their purposes.
We may have to dig through the rubble and confusion to find who and what we are. 
When the pressure of having lost touch with our essence is too much, one might dismantle
or blow up their current situation and a mid-life crisis or breakdown results. 
If the work is not done-through disbelief or avoidance, depression is the likely result.


How does a parent, teacher, partner, friend learn to not harm the Self in another…
to recognize and honor the true Self and not drive it into further hiding?

                                               ***              
Recovering our Knowing...
As a bodyworker of some years, I am more and more dismayed that while we are so-called

highly educated in the west, we know virtually nothing of value about our own bodies.
All of our education points to things outside the body.  Math, English, History, Science and the like…

But what do we know of our bodies?  When we have problems, we hand them off helplessly
to doctors and the medical establishment who go on to encourage that ignorance. 
I’ve worked on enough doctors and the like to know that they don’t know much about
the basic workings of their bodies either.
They are as hopelessly cut off and at war with their bodies as they are with ours.
Instead of learning the language of the body with its treasure house of sensing and obtaining information, we are taught to ignore, override, belittle the incoming information.

All real learning has to originate with our Selves…the body-mind that carries the expression
of Soul and spirit. 
This is the foundation, the vehicle for our journey of life.  Outside comes later. 
We are systematically directed outward and AWAY from our Selves at all times. 
After enough damage is done and suffering is experienced we are finally admonished by the overculture to ‘seek within’, but even that is as artificial, confusing and useful as the rest of the programmed ‘knowledge’ we are fed.

In the end, it may be more useful to set ALL of that aside for the time being and see what we can recover of ourselves.   
                                                ***

Start with the simple idea of not being a blank slate. 
We KNOW things…LOTS of things, as we come into life.
We know what we like, what we don't like...We know WHO we like or don't like.  

That innate knowing should not be over-ridden.  It is vital information.  It is the child's Truth.
A baby who rejects the nipple or bottle of milk knows something.  They convey that directly
with their actions. 
Perhaps the nursing mother is angry or fearful or is taking a medication that is harmful to the baby.
Perhaps the child is lactose intolerant or chemically sensitive.  We should observe and learn from these actions rather than overriding forcing.  If a child does not want to be held or passed around to everyone that wants to handle the child, the child's wishes must be taken seriously. 
The child knows what is good for it.  That knowing should not be dismissed or violated.  
                                              ***
A child wants to make music or climb trees or bang on things or take things apart…
all rightful expressions of what is inside. 
As an acorn becomes an oak tree quite naturally, a child becomes what they are meant to be...
and they may be many things. 
Our pigeon-holing culture would have us think...a mommy, a firefighter, a scholar, or a soldier, etc.
Better put: part mommy, part artisan, part farmer, etc.  Many aspects or facets come into play
as a life unfolds.  Just as some gemstones are more complex than others. some have fewer.
These are just differing expression of Life. 

Maybe, as children, we didn’t like our family, or town, or the manner in which we were raised. 

These are things to note…they MATTER!  We do not have to downplay or sugarcoat our truth. 
We diminish ourselves when we do...
Perhaps a parent wants a son to become a doctor.  The boy wants to work with his hands
and travel the world   Whose desires survive?
Perhaps daddy or mommy want a boy instead of a girl.  A daughter grows up trying to please that parent and then society goes on to blame HER for being "gay".
The girl wants to be whatever it is she decides to be…it will come to her in time if she is not meddled with too much.
A child should have the best influence and training from its' parents, but beyond that, there are lines that should not be crossed. Raising children calls for guidance in helping them become the person
that lies within. It is a voyage of discovery rather than a call for programming.
I side with the venerable Kahlil Gibran when he says:   
"Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you."

We, as children, endure so much wringing and twisting up of our Selves that we often throw in the towel and live a life of someone else’s choosing.  And then, much of the time, go on to enact that same damage to succeeding generations. We wind up supporting the agendas of our captors

as well as the over-culture.

Like tender blades of grass finding a way up to the sunlight through concrete, the Truth within us
will try to find a way out and up or it will wither and die and pass out of this life unmanifested. 

There is a wonderful example of a toddler who, at the age of 3, asked his parents for a violin
for his birthday… a real one, he insisted, quite precociously. 
The family had little money or concern for music.    
They were sure that a toy violin would be more than adequate.  When the boy unwrapped the gift,
he flew into a terrifying rage, smashed the toy violin to bits and screamed at his parents
for trying to fool him with a fake violin. 
He insisted on the real thing...at once!   He went on to become a world-famous violinist. 
It was his destiny….and he knew it from the start.  It was imprinted in his soul. 

I was once married to a man who, as a boy, had an astonishing talent for the piano. 
He was a savant, someone who could listen to a complex piece of music once and sit down
and play it flawlessly. 
He never learned to read music. In fact, he flatly refused lessons.  It would have been torture to force lessons on him. 
He already exceeded anyone who might teach him.  All he needed was to be supported in his giftedness.

Another curious description of a child’s inner life comes from a woman in Atlanta, Georgia. 
I knew her as a metaphysical teacher.  To others, she was a psychic, to others an accomplished painter. 
She once shared with us the experience of her 1^st years of life.  This was in the context of not being
too quick to judge so-called autistic children, for she was one of the early ones.
She remembered clearly her birth into her body in this life.  
Once she realized that she had once again been sent to earth-a place she detested more than anything,
she was furious beyond words…and beyond words she remained for the first 6 years of her life. 
She felt as though she was being punished, insulted, imprisoned down here once again against her will.  She hated almost everything about this life from prior experience. 
Strong-willed as she was. she took up her battle with the Home Office or God, if you will. 
The battle was furious, determined and protracted.  As she put it, she "had a six year long hissy fit
with the Almighty and firmly refused to serve humans (that’s what she knew she was assigned to do here once more).  She raged within the whole time, refusing food, water and contact. She wanted OUT! 
In the end, she realized she was not going to win this argument.
Once reconciled to that fact, she turned around to face her life and began speaking in full sentences.  She began to interact with the world, much to the amazement of her parents and the ‘experts’
who were brought in on her case. 
She brought herself around to serve with reluctance and difficulty, but she made it. 
As she described it, she went through the motions of what was expected of her as a child and young woman, pretty much in a huge sulk the whole time.  She knew what she was capable of but kept it to herself.  She resolved to live a selfish life as much as possible.  She married and entered the workplace, bent on avoiding her calling.  But a series of strange events dogged her efforts to have things her way. 
She would take a job somewhere and within a few months of her arrival, the business would fail. 
At first it seemed coincidental, but several failed businesses later, she knew the score.
This would keep happening and more and more people would suffer until she finally surrendered
to her calling…her reason to be here…her destiny. 
When I first learned of her, I was very leery of psychics, but I came to realize how many people
she had helped-in particular, how many suicidal people she had helped through life. 
She provided a kind of help and insight that was wonderfully beyond what pastors and psychiatrists and the like could offer.  There was no denying the power and the scope of her gifts.  
She was teacher, mentor, spiritual mother and guide beyond compare.
                                                   ***
She was no-nonsense, at times blunt and true...
She took me aside after class one day and counseled me along these lines, saying   “Debra, as you are experiencing all of these new things, all this new growth…do not let go of your foundation in Christ.  This is an extension of your walk with God.  It is not apart or separate from it.  It is the fulfillment of His Being. Hold onto your good foundation.  But!  Do not be limited in your beliefs!  Not by the church and not by yourself!”

She paused a bit and then went on to explain.  “You know, sadly, most Christians still do not know Christ.  When they say they believe in Jesus, they might as well be saying they believe in Santa Claus. 
They use His Name in the same way. 
He is just there to provide presents to them.  He is just someone they want to use.  There is no reality…no real following…just make-believe…
She was characterized by that kind of razor sharp expression and loyalty to the Truth.
She was right, of course...a little hard-hitting, but Truth can be like that. 
That kind of Truth can save a life...or salvage it.

continued in Crib Stories... 

What Children Know....part 2

A lot can be learned from those that are still true and truthful…no matter what size they are.

A wise Turkish teacher asked me once: “What is the single most important thing in life?”

I thought for a bit and then answered  “Love.”  

He fell silent.   I felt like I had missed the mark…

Finally I asked him what his answer was.   Without hesitation he said  “Truth.”

I was taken aback… His answer seemed stark and uncompromising.

Our culture claims to value love above all else.

But the more I thought about it, the more important and accurate it seemed.

That single word began to re-orient my thinking…

Truth is the foundation for everything.

Where truth and love are concerned, without truth we have nothing…no possibility of real love. 

Children are still true…  Therefore we have much to learn from them...some things to teach,
but much to learn.

In fact, in some cultures, parents see children as full-fledged souls who have insight
for those who are willing to learn. 
A Taoist teacher shared the following observations with me…

Each child that is born into a family reflects the state of the parent's relationship
at the time of their conception.  
Ever wonder why some children within a family are so similar, while others are so different?

Furthermore, they see that child’s soul as being a somewhat older soul than the parents…
slightly wiser and more evolved.

They come in to teach…as well as to learn.

If you stop to think about it…who DOESN”T remember thinking, even KNOWING, that they were wiser
than their parents in many respects?!

The question is “How did we know these things?”  Perhaps  the ancients were right... 
Perhaps we are experienced souls continuing an everlasting journey.
Some traditional societies regard their children as being recently arrived from life between lives.
They have not forgotten the higher realms altogether as people are prone to do after some time.

Imagine what it would be like if parents were willing to hear and to learn from their children.

What if we are missing the better half of the equation by turning a blind eye to what they have to teach us?

 

From the child’s vantage point…and we were all children once…what did WE know?

What did we FEEL?  How was our knowing shoved aside?  Dismissed. Gone unnoticed. Contradicted? 
Mocked.  Punished, in some cases?
 

It’s much easier to imagine that a child knows nothing and that their opinions do not matter. 
Society convinces us that it is so.  It becomes much easier to lord it over them and to behave
callously toward them.  “I am the parent!  You are the child!  You’ll do as I say…or else! 
Or even to go so far as to say "Do as I say...not as I do!”

Now obviously, children need some assistance in the physical realm of things as they mature
to the point where they can take things up on their own. 
But internally, they are far more experienced and equipped than we give them credit for. 
Admittedly, this can be a little confusing on the surface…

The problem for the child is that they DO know many things. Who they are, in part, what they want
or don't want.  
But after living in a society that constantly tells them that they know nothing…
that they are blank slates…they begin to falter.
They begin to lose touch with their original knowing and eventually concede defeat. 
Finally they go on to believe it about themselves.  They acquire the falsehood.

The light inside begins to dim.  They slowly succumb to the ‘Authorities’ ie: the ‘Big People’…
those that hold power and that punish when they don’t have their way.

Eventually the child’s knowing is eclipsed.  Their own light is disregarded and they begin to doubt
and forget and set aside all the brilliance, the heart and the sense of purpose they came in with.
The knowing never goes away, but it lies buried like an ancient city under the gritty and relentless sands of time and culture.
More...Digging for Truth