I want to share with you what I consider great news. Since the second of the two workshops I attended at Les Labadous in August and September of 2016, I have come to realize that I too more and more naturally look for the light, it wasn't always so. With light I also mean love, a means to -- and outcome of -- forgiveness.
I am therefore pleased to report that I'm doing better. Last August, at the end of the first workshop, I told Stacy about the possibility of me starting on medication for depression as I felt stuck in a survival mode and didn't see a way out.
The transformation I have experienced this past year since attending the two workshops feels real in a sense:
Ponder and worry lessened. Feeling of emptiness (depression) gone. Headaches gone (quit migrane medicine). Levaxin (tyroxin) dosage decreased (medicine for low metabolism). Sleep improved (quit any kind of sleep medication). Mood swings or bipolar tendencies converged and hardly recognizable. Irritation and upsets rarely noticeable. Resentment and need to rebel decreased. Prejudices and narrow mindedness fewer (replaced by a more embracive attitude). Self-righteousness and need to be right less apparent. Self-doubt increasingly replaced by trust. A certain certainty has centered in the solar plexus enabling a more stable (yet still minor) free flow of energy into all body cells. A certain calm is about to manifest in the mind. Smiling more often, even at sudden bad surprises (now being viewed as information). In short, I have come to view things less seriously, including myself, and my authority problem and pride is less prominent. Just like Stacy predicted, practicing forgiveness is allowing me to become more receptive and conscious of the light that brightens up my life.
One example how this manifests in daily life is that a year ago, before attending your workshops in August and September in Les Labadous, I felt too insecure to walk the neighbour's big and energetic male Icelandic sheep dog, which I've known all through his seven year long life. I simply didn't feel strong enough to control and hold him close during our walks when we encountered other spirited male dogs. Now, every morning for the past 2.5 weeks, I've taken him on a two hour long walk and when we encounter male dogs, all I do is whisper, "stay calm", and he does. Before when I felt insecure, he didn't listen to me but rather felt the need to bark and push. Now since I feel safe and certain, he is very aware of my being and a soft whisper is enough as he picks up on my love and calm, and the love we have for each other is merely the only communication tool needed. My whisper may not even feel to him like a command because our [separate] will is now united into one and silence will suffice once I no longer feel the need to even whisper.
I needed a whole year before I now felt ready to share my own experiences from having attending your workshops at Les Labadous. Any profound transformation do take time as do actions speak louder than words. Meanwhile, for me and the dog, it's a matter of continuing to "stay calm" and enjoy the feeling of being "in tune and connected" other than through a rope between the two of us. It is true that I experience a time of balance in my life at the moment and it is tempting to think that it will always stay this way, effortlessly. But I also know from experience that sudden incidents, obstacles and upsets will occur. Thus to me, walking the dog every morning is like practicing to be a tightrope walker. Neither of us are ready yet to walk on the high wire where a single doubt equals "game over". On the contrary—and I am now only speaking for myself and not the dog—I am very happy to be grounded enough to be able to practice forgiveness and thus develop trust; the dog himself I perceive to be far beyond this point in his development.
Leave a Reply.
Find out what other people think of us!
We try to get as much feedback as we can so we know we are doing our best for you. Here are some of the great things people had to say about our workshops and intensive retreats.