By Summer Bacon

Wow, have I been cranky lately. I mean, I've had one full-blown, never-ending pity party going on in my head. Yuck.

Yeah, okay, well I could justify it. Frankly, the past two years have been horrendously difficult in so many ways. First, the relationship I had been in for nearly four years ended very suddenly in 2008 when, out-of-the-blue, I discovered that my fiancé was cheating on me. (There are some things in life we are not ever intended to understand, and that is one of them for me.)

Then, at the end of 2008, my children moved out of the house on the same day, with only 24 hours of warning. I was driving back to Arizona from California, after another brief, disastrous relationship with an old friend, when I got my children's voice message.

"Hi Mommy! Guess what? We got an apartment together! And, we're moving tomorrow. Sorry we won't be here when you get home!"

It was one week before Christmas.

And there I was, sitting in an empty (and very kid-messy, dog-and-cat shredded) nest, crying to God, "What about me?"

It was horrible. But, I sucked it up, pulled out the ruined carpet with my own hands, painted the concrete floor a steel blue, and decorated for Christmas. I'd survived worst times than these. At least, so I thought.

Then, there was the economy. As I was fixing up my home to become a shrine -- a tribute to my children and the years we spent together; as I hung dozens of photos on the walls, and turned old baby shoes and other treasures into artwork -- my income, which was on the decline, very suddenly dropped again...by two thirds. And, then it dropped some more. The home and car and other possessions that I had acquired through the years felt like they were now possessing me, as I could no longer afford to pay for them. I was terrified. After many nights of prayer and meditation, I knew had no choice but to get rid of it all. I filed bankruptcy and surrendered my home, and set out to get a fresh start. I gave away everything I had, except for boxes of memories, the old upright piano that had traveled with me from California (to Oklahoma, to Arizona, and through five more moves), and the desk and chair that my parents gave to me when I was nine years old.

Oh, and, of course, I kept my office desk. And, as well, for this serious foodie, I also kept my freezer, although I had nowhere to plug it in.

I watched as my couch, dining set, beds, and everything down to the blinds in the windows were stripped from my house by sweet friends and neighbors who could use those things more than I could.

At first, it felt really good to give it all away.

But then, with the passage of time, I recently stumbled into the pit of, "What about me?"  I spent days agonizing about the fact that I could no longer sit on MY patio where I could hear the sounds of the creek, and the gentle breezes blowing through the trees. I would never see THOSE walls that my children beautifully painted in their bedrooms when we first moved in. I would never get the chance to taste an apple off of MY apple tree that was finally bearing fruit after five years.

The self pity made me nauseous, to the point where I could hardly stand being with myself. And, I worried about the toll my attitude might be taking on my relationship with my wonderful new boyfriend, with whom I am now living.

To be frank, I was constantly in tears. Or, if they weren't falling, I was holding them back. And, worst of all, I was losing my faith in God. Yeah. ME. Losing faith in God? Oh yeah, baby. And, it was horrible, like sinking in quicksand. Losing faith in God, sucks...big time.

I knew I had to stop fighting my new life, or I would be consumed by all of the negativity I was generating in my struggle. Even my hands and wrists began to hurt terribly. I sat wondering whether I might be getting arthritis, because "after all, I will be fifty years old in June."

As I sat stretching and rubbing my sore hands, I finally heard God speak loudly and clearly: "Stop holding on to the past so tightly, Summer."

I gasped. I had not been forgotten by God after all.

But, still, I couldn't help it. I wanted to hold on. I wanted my stuff around. I wanted my children back in my life. I wanted MY plans to be followed. I had prepared for years to build a home base for my children to return to with my "some day" grandchildren. We were supposed to sit in the house and reminisce about our life together. My grandchildren were SUPPOSED TO sleep in the beds where their Mommys once slept. They were SUPPOSED TO eat apples off of the tree that was planted when I first bought the home. Why couldn't God understand that? Why couldn't God make it happen for me?

Because, evidently there is another plan for my life. And, I am assuming it is a better plan than I could have dreamed up for myself. And, I know, I know, this is a school called planet earth. It's a place of spiritual education, and sometimes the tests and the lessons are tough. As Dr. Peebles once told me through the trance medium, Thomas Jacobson, "Summer, life is not one big party all the time." Boy, was he right. Sometimes it's not even one big party SOME of the time.

But, that doesn't mean it can't be fun. After all, we create our own reality, right? That doesn't mean that we will create a happily ever after existence in a small house in Cornville, Arizona, with grandchildren running in the yard, just because we think that's the key to our happiness.

It means that, no matter the twists and turns and bends our lives take, we create our own reality THROUGH OUR CHOICES AND PERCEPTIONS.

The reality was, I chose to overspend, and to count my chickens before they hatched (even though I didn't have any eggs...like, duh.) And, I made some very poor financial decisions that lead to my demise. I did it because, at the time, I thought it was the right thing to do, because I was enthusiastically trying to build my spiritual business, and get the timeless guidance of Dr. Peebles out to the world on a grand scale. But, it didn't work. At least, it didn't work the way that I had planned it.

It doesn't mean that God doesn't have something better (and simpler) in mind for me. In fact, I believe He does, and I believe it is already happening in my life. And, just because I made some "dumb" decisions, it doesn't mean that I messed up, or failed, either. In fact, it doesn't mean that they were "dumb" decisions, either. They were just decisions. As Dr. Peebles says, "there is no such thing as a mistake, there is only growth." And, that's something that, through changing my perception of life, I am starting to understand, albeit slowly.

At this recent crossroads in my life, as I struggled to find the joy in my new existence,  (i.e., a life without bills to pay, without the daily drama and mad-dash existence of raising children, and now, more time to myself than I'd had in 23 years, plus a man who truly loves me) I spent a lot of time hiking in the beautiful hills of Sedona, and meditating at the squash court after practice. Turns out the squash court creates a beautiful echo-chamber for toning and praying. I would turn off the lights, and sit and tone, and talk to God and Spirit.

I was desperately trying to find the off switch to my negative emotions. But in order to turn them off, I had to turn something else on. And, no, I'm not talking sex here.

The reality is, I needed to resurrect the fire and passion that I'd had for so many years in my spiritual journey, and had taught about, i.e., I needed the inner knowing that I wasn't alone, that what I had experienced in life had meaning and purpose, and that I hadn't fallen off the path, but was still moving in the right direction, and there by the grace of God, I was still going.

But, how?

Damn, faith can be as elusive as the fluff that floats off of a Cottonwood tree in autumn. Catch it if you can.

Then, it was the teeniest, tiniest of things that finally penetrated my mind, body and spirit, and got me back into my heart. And, it all had to do with energy that was stuck. Energy that I didn't even know was stuck, although I was feeling it on a subconscious level.

It's incredible how energy can really get stuck, and you can feel it when you're not even consciously aware it's there.

I was sitting at my desk, feeling downhearted, sick of myself, and wanting very much to pass this stone of self-doubt and self-pity, when, it dawned on me, it was time to clean out my desk. Literally. The desire to clean my desk came as an urge that stirred in my gut.

You see, when I left Cornville last July, I packed only what I felt I needed. Some of that stuff was business related, and I indiscriminately packed the drawers in my desk with all the files and and things that I felt I "might" need, and was afraid to lose. A certain someone had supposedly filed things in my office for the years that we were together, but I soon discovered that his filing system involved randomly tossing stacks of things into the closet. I didn't know what I needed, or didn't need, so I shoved as much as I could into my office desk. And, there they have sat with me for almost a whole year!

So, I started to clean. And, clean. And, clean. And, whoa...a huge trashbag full of junk later.... Wow. What an energetic clearing! My desk and my life felt completely different. The air felt clear. It felt like I'd lost ten pounds. And, every day since then, I have felt revived in my spirit. I am seeing more clearly, and looking less to the past, and more to the moment at hand. I am no longer clenching my fists to hold onto the past, but clasping them together more in prayers of thanks. I'm finally in the here and now.

And, now I can see that I raised two beautiful, independent, confident children, who left home relatively early to make lives of their own. Not because they hate me (as I had convinced myself in my misery), but because I did a good job as a Mom. I lost my home and other stuff, because I needed to find balance in my life. I needed more of me in the equation of life (as Dr. Peebles encourages us ALL to do). I needed to be sequestered away from drama, bills, backyard weeds, grocery shopping every day, and all of the other convenient ways in which I drew attention away from myself and my own needs.

I needed to have nothing, in order to have something. I needed to die, in order to live.

So, am I completely over this time of melancholy and self pity in my life? No. Not entirely. I'm not going to wriggle my way out of that truth. But, I do know that things are improving vastly day by day, and I'm taking this melancholy time to focus on regrouping and reorganizing. After all, I've been through a heckuva lot in the past two years, so it doesn't hurt to be a little more forgiving of, and a little kinder to, myself.

I need to get everything cleaned out and organized to a level where I know what I DO have, instead of focusing on what I DON'T have. I do have the things that were of value to me when I left Cornville. And, I'm starting to put lots of them into scrapbooks and picture frames. My freezer will be moved to my home with Don sometime in the next two weeks. I'm slowly putting my lighthouse collection up on the shelf, and remembering where my cookbooks are stored. It's a new way of living, and I'm starting to see that I haven't lost anything, but gained so much in the process.

I have new love in my life, children who are amazing, a family who is joining me in Arizona this week for my 50th birthday, two kittens who adore me, four dogs who annoy me (hee, hee...but, they sure do love me), I live in paradise (Sedona, AZ), and...well..above all...

I have God, and my faith back. And, that means the world to me. Without that, I felt I had nothing. With God, I have it all: the things that really matter: faith, hope, trust, and love.

And, on an added note, thank you, Dr. Peebles, for being so patient with me. I couldn't have done this without you.

P.S. I want you, the reader, to know one thing: life is good. It really is. We just have to turn around and see the other side of the frequency that we don't understand. When we can change our perspective, anxiety becomes enthusiasm. A pity party becomes a celebration of life.

My prayer for you is that you release the frequencies that no longer serve you, and embrace the ones that resurrect you. As Dr. Peebles says, "Life is, indeed, a joy!" With God we have everything. Because, God IS everything. Relax, release, surrender. Let go, and let God, and you just might find that the  abundance you have been seeking has been with you all along.

No father, if asked for bread, would give his child a stone.
[Luke 11:11]