eBook
Available on Compatible NOOK devices, the free NOOK App and in My Digital Library.
Related collections and offers
Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781504386487 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Balboa Press |
| Publication date: | 08/30/2017 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 134 |
| File size: | 583 KB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
POINT OF NO RETURN, SEPTEMBER 2003
Was I born like that or did I develop my senses and faith to interact with the non-ordinary world? Both are correct. But I needed to go through a dark period at age thirty-five to realize that I could not go on with my life as I had been doing up to that date.
It was a sunny Sunday in late August 2003 around lunchtime. I was on the highway traveling from the south of Switzerland to Zurich. I had spent some joyful days with my younger brother and his family, but I'd felt a demanding urge to go home earlier than I'd planned. I admit I am, by habit, a speedy driver, and I normally use reasonable judgment on the maximum speed I attain. However, that Sunday was different. I was speeding at around 180 kilometers per hours (115 miles per hour), and I was experiencing destructive thoughts. Anyone who has driven on Swiss highways knows that there are lots of bridges and tunnels. And there were many on the highway I used that day. The most shocking realization I had while speeding was that I was analyzing how to best hit a bridge pillar or a tunnel wall. Just like that, even though I was not concentrating on the wheel, I felt my hands strongly. It was as if there was an inner fight going: "Yes — no — yes — no — no!" I cried within. "Yes, please let it stop," said another voice. "We can't anymore! It's all too much! We just want to rest. We want to be left alone. We no longer want to deal with all the people who want something again and again! But we need to find the best angle, the best speed so that it is over, finally and forever over! You don't want to wake up in hospital and be paraplegic."
Still speeding, I gripped the wheel more strongly and lowered the music to ground myself. "No, no, no — not at all. Never, ever, will I do that!" I thought. I was still speeding, taking the curves, and watching bridge pillar after bridge pillar pass. "That one would have been a good one. There's another one like that. Stop! No more talk like that. No!" Tears ran down my cheeks. I was utterly scared, and I increased my speed so I would arrive in Zurich as soon as I could. I guess I would have even welcomed a police car stopping me that day. I simply wanted to leave the car, as I felt I was in utmost danger for my life. But by whom? By myself!
I talked out loud saying "No! No!" repeatedly. I felt as if good and bad angels were on my shoulders having a dispute, and that my head was in between. I cried. I did not know what to do. I just followed the road, speeding. The closer I came to Zurich, the less insistent was the voice urging me toward the bridge pillars, as fewer and fewer opportunities presented themselves. Arriving at home, I parked the car on the street, took my little bag out of the trunk, and mounted the two flights of stairs to my old apartment. I closed the door and let my belongings fall to ground. I no longer had the power to hold on to the simplest thing. I took refuge on my bed, letting out all my tears, weeping for my life. I was at the end. I had no clue what to do. I did not know if I ever again would be able to stand up, literally or metaphorically.
Up to that moment, I'd had a successful career and the freedom to do anything I wanted with my life. I had meaningful relationships, and yet, at the time this happened, I was single. I traveled the world for my job and was respected and needed — retrospectively, maybe too much. I don't recall exactly why, but on that Sunday afternoon, I knew I couldn't go to work the next day, not because I wanted to call in sick, but because I couldn't do anything anymore. Nothing.
At one point that Sunday afternoon, sleep rescued me from thinking, crying, and being desperate. But waking up the next morning, I found that nothing had changed. Nothing. I was broken, at the end. I called my friend in the human resources department at my work to let him know that I couldn't come to work. He would have noticed my absence already, I assumed, as we normally commuted by train together. I dialed his office number, but another person answered as my friend was not yet in. I didn't know what to say, but that didn't matter; the words just floated out of my mouth with no control. I don't know what exactly I said, but the woman on the phone was calm. She listened and only asked one question: "Do you have a doctor you trust, Kathrin?"
"No, I don't."
"Then please take pen and paper and write down this name. I will call this doctor and make a referral. Promise me you will call and make an appointment as soon as you can. Please promise me that, will you, Kathrin?"
I wept as I heard real concern in her voice, and I felt again, "No, that's not good at all." So I promised her I would call the doctor, hung up the phone, and went back to my refuge, my bed. I fell asleep. One or two hours later, I woke up and saw the note with the phone number. I don't know how I managed to call, but I did, and as I mentioned my name and that I had received the number from a friend, the assistant said, "You have been referred. Where do you live? Can you come in today at the end of day? The doctor really wants to see you today."
I didn't know what to say other than, "Can I come by public transport?" She said it would be easier with the car, and I said, "No, no car — I don't know what will happen if I use the car ever again."
I barely made it to the doctor's office, as one part of me did not want to leave home ever again. But another part of me had promised my peer that I would follow up, and I didn't want to disappoint her or the doctor.
So I sat in the waiting room, holding myself together, feeling small and yet wanting to hold on to a professional façade. Little did I know what would happen. I was called into the office, and the doctor shook my hand warmly and with compassion. She asked me to take a seat and to tell her what had happened. And again, the words poured like a fountain. I admitted that I couldn't go on anymore but that I had to do so many things. These things were so important, but then again I couldn't ...
She listened, looking at me all the time although my eyes did not meet hers. Finally she said, "It is amazing how you feel responsible for others and that you want to be of service to everyone else. But now you need to take care of yourself."
She explained that she had studied philosophy and human medicine and that she mostly used acupuncture and alternative healing methods. Having said that, she said that she would now love to put a needle into my forehead to release all that was there, if I was okay with that. I looked at her. I did not know what to say, but I heard a cautious "yes" leaving my lips. I lay down on the treatment couch, and she placed a needle somewhere on the upper middle of my forehead. The effect was overwhelming: I started weeping, sobbing. "I'll leave you alone as I still have some things to do," she said. "I will come back to check on you."
I don't recall how long I was there; my whole body racked with my sobbing until I was empty, until nothing was left. After maybe half an hour or longer, the doctor came back and said, "It's better now, isn't it?"
"I don't know," I mumbled. "I feel empty, lost, powerless."
She removed the needle, massaged my skin, and said, "I want you to come back on Wednesday. We will start the treatment schedule; you are off work for a few weeks."
"No, I cannot, they —"
"Yes, you can, and you actually must," she interrupted.
She firmly gazed into my eyes until I agreed. This was the start of changing me from the stressed, adrenaline-driven warrior to a more balanced human being.
I was on medical leave for two weeks, returned to work on a part-time basis, and then took a week's holiday as soon as possible.
During that week, I got my first call from spirits, as I refer to that experience today. It happened in a wellness hotel in the Black Forest in the south of Germany, only about sixty minutes away from my home. On my third day there, I woke up in the morning facing the wall, and I turned over to look out the window. While doing so, I noticed something that looked like a banner hanging in thin air. I frowned, closed my eyes, turned back, and thought, "I'm still dreaming." Turning again to the window and reopening my eyes, I saw that the banner was still there, but now it was accompanied by celestial music. I rubbed my eyes and didn't believe what I was seeing and hearing, but I also knew that it was there. I deciphered what was on the banner, and the message was crystal clear: Take time for yourself.
That was it. Within an hour, I made the decision to quit my job, and I called my friend in the HR department. He answered on the first ring and nervously asked how I was doing. "Actually, I just decided to quit my job," I told him. "I'll hand my resignation letter in on Monday. I just wanted to let you know. All is fine!"
"Let's talk about that when you are back, okay?" he replied. "One should never make an important decision while in an emotional state like the one you are currently in."
That did sound logical, but I knew I would not change my mind. I hung up and, hungry as I suddenly was, went for breakfast. This was notable because, in recent weeks, I had lost my appetite and all pleasure in eating. During a massage later that day, the therapist asked what had happened, as my whole body seemed to be more relaxed, and I seemed in good spirits.
This wake-up call happened more than thirteen years ago, and I call it my point of no return. Despite having had a life that, on the surface, was a successful, I received this call for action to assess my life for alignment with who I was, what I wanted from life, and why I was on this earth. It took lots of time and effort to heal myself, on physical level — about six months — as well as on a soul level — several years — but I did find the joy of life again.
CHAPTER 2
MY VOCATION, AUGUST 2014
After I quit my job in the fall of 2003, I took several months off and switched careers. I started to study to be a coach and trainer, and I also studied several alternative healing arts as well as the craft of hand analysis. I was thrilled to be seeking answers to questions I didn't even know I had. In May 2004, I participated in a Zen meditation introduction, and my love-hate affair with meditation started right away. I instantly felt that meditating was good for me, but I was not up for discipline and regularity. I found that the rules were more of a burden than a framework to live in. However, it was especially the Zen meditation that helped me tremendously to find answers for my deep seeking.
Journal entries also were a big help. As I wrote, I realized that, next to my thoughts, some other messages were coming across, noticeable by a change in my longhand writing style as well as the tonality of the words I was writing. I was pleased about that and, over the years, I have always been intrigued by the dialogues I have had with my invisible partners, especially the ones that made me ask myself how I would be able to integrate my spiritual insights into the client work. I wrote many journal entries about that topic, and I realized that I would need to dedicate more energy before I would be able to answer such a deep question. I therefore decided to take a three-month sabbatical in the summer 2014.
Unfortunately (or fortunately) I had a snowboard accident in February that year, followed by brain trauma. So, all my plans for the summer where crossed out because I temporarily lost some functions of the prefrontal cortex, the very part of the brain that manages our thoughts. In consequence, I could not access most of my memories. Additionally, my ability to think logically was compromised. Sounds scary, I know, and it was! I realized that I knew things, but my brain would not allow me to access the information. When I spoke, single words were blocked, or I uttered sentences that made no sense at all. When I read books, my scope of attention was around three sentences. I could not follow complex arguments or even discussions without making extensive notes. It was as if I was living only in each individual moment of time as I experienced it. I was devastated; yet I had an inner knowing and conviction that these brain disorders were only temporary, and that was mostly true.
After about a month, my brain started to regain its function, and I used all my energy to fulfill the few obligations that remained toward my clients that I had been unable to rearrange. It was hard work, and I longed for the end of May when my three-month sabbatical was scheduled to start. Nothing was on my agenda except for my plans to attend training in the United States in August. I didn't know if I would be able to concentrate and understand while my brain was still recovering. My physician, however, gave her okay, if I promised to schedule extensive rest periods and eat enough to feed my brain, as its energy demand was huge at that time. So, off I went to explore the national parks in the American Southwest and Northern California. I knew I needed nature more than people, and stillness more than activity. I was on the road for four weeks, and stayed two weeks each at Lake Tahoe, California, and at Point Reyes National Seashore, California.
I was floating through the days, sensing what best to do. I spent most of my time in nature hiking, taking lots of photographs, and regularly writing journal entries. It was again through these dialogues that I started to feel that answers were slowly surfacing from deep within me as I began to answer my question about integrating spirituality into my work. It felt as if air bubbles were seeking their way through mud until they burst at the surface. I knew that what was coming was important, and yet I could not accelerate the current process. I sensed every day that the bubbles were moving and the only thing I could do was to wait. I wrote impatiently in my journal, asking for what it was that I sensed was coming, but the only answer I got was: "We promise you will go back to Switzerland with a plan." This specific and yet not concrete message kept repeating itself for several days. I admit, my impatience took over, and I kind of yelled at my invisible partners, not really knowing who they were at that time. Three weeks before I flew back to Switzerland, I still had no answer. I had no plan formed, and I felt that my inner patience was facing an impossible challenge.
However, I could only trust that the answer would come, and I therefore drove down to Santa Cruz, California, to start my ten-day training for the next generation entrepreneurs. I learned a model that builds a business strategy based on an individual's passion and derives the vision and mission statements from that center. We did lots of exercises around our passions, and each time it was my turn to express my vision and my mission, I felt the presence of someone — of something — around me. It was invisible and yet very concrete. Connecting to that invisible presence through my heart, I could identify some figures, one specifically, but I had no time to go into a proper exchange — not until the dawn of August 20.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Dare to Trust"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Kathrin M. Wyss.
Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Foreword, xi,
Acknowledgments, xiii,
Introduction by Archangel Michael, April 2, 2017, xv,
Introduction by the Author, xvii,
PART ONE The Journey Calls,
Chapter 1 Point of No Return, September 2003, 1,
Chapter 2 My Vocation, August 2014, 6,
Chapter 3 Spirits' Introduction, 12,
Chapter 4 The Why and How of Spirits, 16,
Chapter 5 How to Connect with Us, 21,
PART TWO Finding Inner Strength,
Chapter 6 My Action Steps after I Embarked on My Vocation, 29,
Chapter 7 My Experiences as a Little Girl, 32,
Chapter 8 What Being Courageous Means, 36,
Chapter 9 Express Your Passion through Creativity, 38,
Chapter 10 Grow Your Inner Strength, 42,
Chapter 11 Mindfulness Is Essential to My Life, 45,
Chapter 12 The Story of Little Smiling Buddha and the Teaching on the Blessed Smile, 47,
Chapter 13 What Mindfulness Means to Me, 51,
PART THREE The Wisdom of the Heart,
Chapter 14 A Bath in Gratitude – Zen Sesshin Oct 2009, 55,
Chapter 15 The Heart Must Be Able to Trust, January 2017, 57,
Chapter 16 The Heart Is the Universe, 60,
Chapter 17 About Caring, 62,
Chapter 18 Feelings as a Base for Staying in Touch, 64,
Chapter 19 Faith, 67,
Chapter 20 Dealing with Negative Emotions, 69,
Chapter 21 We Are Full of Life, Aren't We?, 71,
PART FOUR An Empowered Life,
Chapter 22 Living Aligned with Nature, 75,
Chapter 23 Water as a Precious Source, 80,
Chapter 24 Respect Earth, 82,
Chapter 25 Nourish the Soil for Resilience, 85,
Chapter 26 The Power of Being Present, 86,
Chapter 27 Understanding Self and Accepting Who You Are, 90,
Chapter 28 Joy and Happiness, 93,
PART FIVE A New Beginning,
Chapter 29 Two Souls in My Chest, 2008, 99,
Chapter 30 Bridging Worlds, 107,
Chapter 31 Final Message from the Spirits, 109,
About the Author, 111,