"The R.E.A.L education revolution begins with an inner voyage whose milestones are self-awareness, personal responsibility, meditation, and soul assimilation."- Lisa Carberry
This book is for people who want to actively connect with love, beginning with the love of self. It is for the individual who wants to connect with the messages of their soul and firmly follow their soul's guidance, exercising choice from a non-reactive, heart-centered place.
This powerful and engaging book, which walks with Lisa as she bravely describes the events of her life-how she came through surviving narrow thinking communities to face her own limiting beliefs and learn the gift of choice in the present-will be, for the reader, a blessing.
As a reader, you will feel as if you are journeying with Lisa through her pains and hurts and through the formation of her beliefs. You will experience the inward path she took towards creating an empowered and peaceful present that allows her to walk into and create the future of her dreams. In the process, you'll be inspired to observe the stories of your past, seeing where your pains lie, noticing your own limiting beliefs, and join with Lisa in transforming your life and transforming your teaching through an engaging dialogue with your own soul speak.
Transform Your Life, Transform Your Teaching: Book One: Soul Speak is an authentic, intimate, challenging, and revealing journey into the depths of the mind's creations. Its purpose is to encourage a real, inward education revolution that exposes the truth of who and what we really are as well as the infinite power that lies within to envision, create, and manifest our best life, revealing what is possible when we actively choose to get R.E.A.L and be R.E.A.L with ourselves and others.
|Product dimensions:||5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.31(d)|
Read an Excerpt
Transform Your Life, Transform Your Teaching
Book 1: Soul Speak
By Lisa Carberry
Balboa PressCopyright © 2015 Lisa Carberry
All rights reserved.
During the Easter season of 1971, I was born into the world in physical form: a beautiful little baby girl who was the pride and joy of her mother. I've been told I was born with blonde hair and brown eyes and that nursing staff were so perplexed by this they took me over to a window to make sure they weren't seeing things. At the time, perhaps it was a sign of things to come, for as much as I would be expected to follow the rules, I would challenge and break them as I was growing up. Even at this very early age, I was already showing signs I was going to see the world differently.
In all honesty, I do not recall much of my early childhood years, but by all accounts, I was a happy, healthy little girl. From pictures I have seen of myself in those early years, I had a bright and vibrant smile and the innocence and inquisitiveness of someone so young. The name I was given was Lisa, after the world famous soprano Lisa Della Casa. Like her, music became a part of my life. My mother, having accomplished much herself, in both operatic and ballroom dancing arenas, encouraged my creative expression. I grew up with a love of, and appreciation for, song and dance in many forms, particularly opera and musicals. My mother, despite relying upon a single-parent pension, found a way for me to learn to play piano and take ballet lessons.
Although the piano and ballet lessons were relatively short lived, I knew I still had a voice, and many hours were spent singing along with favourite musicals, played repeatedly on a record player. Because I learned to play the piano, I found I had a more melodic song to sing; until that time I had been subjected to a degree of ridicule for the ability to sing out of key! In experiencing this ridicule through the eyes and ears of that little girl, it was priming me to believe my voice was not good enough, and even if it was to improve, it would never be as good as my mother's voice nor would it ever be good enough to attain the dream of performing on stage. This was an energetic pattern that was to be repeated and reinforced when I entered the school system and became aware I was being raised in the teachings of the Jehovah's Witnesses.
My mother helped develop in me a love of books and reading, so much so that when I began school at the age of five, I was advanced in my reading and writing skills. I was also more advanced in other areas of prescribed learning. According to my mother, there was some discussion with the school about having me placed in a higher grade than my chronological years would dictate. The school system being such as it was declined to recognize or accommodate my mother's request. So, unconsciously, another set of beliefs were being formulated for me. Beliefs such as my abilities did not warrant recognition, that I was not good enough, and that I was expected to conform to the perceived wisdom of others in positions of authority and knowledge. A belief formulating that would suggest to me that someone else knew what was best for me and that I was powerless to do anything about it. The formulation of that belief would also be reflected in my religious upbringing.
Raised in the culture, tradition and teachings of the Jehovah's Witnesses was not without its benefits. I learned much about the value of treating people with respect, and the importance of love. I also developed confidence in public speaking, and learned how to research information and present it in an engaging manner. There was also learning about being part of a larger family, and how to socially engage with others who were not of the Jehovah's Witness family. By all accounts, I fitted in well, yet something within me would prompt me to start questioning everything I was being taught.
My mother did not drive and there was limited public transport. For us to attend meetings three times a week, we would walk for miles to get there, often taking several hours of brisk walking to attend each meeting at the Kingdom Hall, the meeting place of Jehovah's Witnesses. The walk was extremely pleasant. Living as we did in Charlestown, a little coastal village on the South East coast of Scotland, we walked along the ocean, through the green landscaped countryside with its beautiful flowers, trees and abundant sounds and sights of nature, into the hustle and bustle of suburbia until we reached the Kingdom Hall. Even in winter with the ground covered in thick snow, we still walked these miles yet the landscape retained its beauty and appeal.
I delighted in seeing, smelling and touching the vast ocean waters. There was a childhood joy in listening to the cheerful songs of the birds and their appearance. Robin Redbreasts, sparrows, and seagulls particularly fascinated me. I gazed in wonderment at the plants and trees, with their many forms and colors, watching them grow as I was growing, observing them swaying in the breeze yet holding firm in the ground. In winter, with deep snow on the ground, I was refreshed by the touch and feel of the snowflakes I held curiously in my hand. I blissfully explored what lay beneath as the snow melted away, signaling the onset of spring. Precious memories, indeed, of the blessed curiosity and wonderment of a childhood past. Yet, those beautiful moments would also be tainted with a violation of my innocence in the form of sexual abuse at the hands of a seventeen-year-old male youth within the Jehovah's Witness congregation of which my mother and I were a part.
Over a period of several months, up to twice a week, and under the roof of the Kingdom Hall in one of the small meeting rooms, I, as an eight year old was led to perform certain acts of touch on that seventeen year old youth for his sexual gratification. One night, my mother and others came looking for me, and actually looked in the room where I was. They did not find me because I had been told by this youth to hide under a chair in the corner while he left the room so he would not be found. I don't know how long I stayed there, hidden, crouching as tight as I could under that chair, frightened and unsure of what to do so I wouldn't get into trouble.
Eventually, I did come out from under the chair when I continued to hear my name being called by panicked members of the congregation, including my mother. That is when I spoke of what had been going on and why they could not find me that night. What followed would lead to a re-enforcement of beliefs about myself that were already being unconsciously adopted. However, new beliefs would also be created that night.
I gave voice to the experience the best an eight year old could at the time. As I spoke, it was with the voice of guilt and shame, but also deep sadness. The events that followed would produce great anger within me. The structure of the Jehovah's Witnesses involves elders being appointed from within the congregation. These elders, always male, are the individuals who oversee the congregation as a whole. This also includes dealing with any disciplinary matters that arise. Therefore, the sexual abuse, once it became known, was immediately brought to the attention of several of the elders in the congregation. They spoke to me, in the presence of my mother, and the youth who was responsible for sexually abusing me.
At first, he denied it. My mother spoke up as best she could at the time until he finally admitted to the abuse. However, more was to come from this experience. Although he admitted to abusing me, he was not punished in any way for his acts of violence toward me, no reports made to external authorities such as the police. Rather, I was accused of leading him astray, and blamed for luring him into committing the sexual abuse. The matter was deemed 'closed' by the elders and his life went on as if nothing had happened. I on the other hand, as a young girl, adopted the belief that I was indeed to blame.
There would be other experiences within the confines of the Jehovah's Witness organization that would birth internal confusion. From the experience of sexual abuse, I wondered how the person responsible for the abuse could apparently be allowed to continue participating and engaging with the congregation as normal, as if nothing had happened. It seemed to me, even at that young age, there needed to be some accountability and punishment for his actions. In my mind, justice had not been served. Yet, this experience would open my eyes to observe other ways where there was discord between teachings, the practice of them and how I viewed the world around me.
A key belief of the Jehovah's Witnesses is that women are to be in subjection to men. Within the organization, a woman is not permitted to take on any teaching or leadership roles. Even in the realm of prayer, if there is a male present he is to lead the prayer, though an exception to this rule is when the man is not baptized. Yet, even then, when the woman does lead the group in prayer, she must cover her head out of deference and respect to the presence of the man. As a young child, I had a sense of equality, and for me witnessing this inequality, I questioned how the God that I was being told about could ever allow women to be regarded as inferior. An experience I was to have would solidify this perception.
The main room in which meetings took place was large, accommodating close to three hundred people at any one time. On average though, the total attendance at meetings would be around one hundred or so. The way main gatherings were conducted involved male members of the congregation, specifically the elders and ministerial servants (the title given to males preparing to become elders), leading a talk or bible study discussion from the raised platform, located at the front of the Kingdom Hall. Questions would be asked and members of the congregation could raise their hand to respond. If they were chosen, a microphone attached to a long pole would be brought to them, so that all in attendance could hear the comment. Individuals could volunteer to be on the roster to be a microphone attendant.
Initially, I was permitted to participate in this roster, and it was a service I enjoyed performing. It was not until there was a visit by a circuit overseer (an elder responsible for a number of congregations within a specific area) who happened to see me performing the function that things changed. He deemed the role of microphone attendant as a leadership one, and a training ground for the young men in the congregation to become ministerial servants. As such, it was not my place to be allowed on the roster any more, so the congregational elders informed me of this and I was removed from this role.
I also became aware of how non-Jehovah's Witnesses and those who decided to leave the organization were regarded. Growing up in the Jehovah's Witnesses, birthdays, Christmas and Easter were not celebrated. As a child, much of my time was spent engaging with adults. At school however, I was the only Jehovah's Witness as well as an only child within a single-parent family. This was a difficult time for I was living in two worlds. My peers took advantage of my difference and I became the subject of much cruelty and bullying. Therefore, I learned very quickly what to do in order to survive.
As an only child, I began to make stories up to explain why my father was not in my life. My peers would encourage me to do mischievous things, and I would do them in order to be accepted into the group. Yes, I was accepted, but to a point. There was still the issue of my religion. Often I would be invited to the birthday parties of my little group of friends, but promptly told by my mother I could not attend. Then I would have to tell them I could not go. In my mind, I did not see any problem in going, after all, it was only a party, and I wanted to have fun. At school I would hear all about the party, how much fun everyone had, and what presents they received. I felt left out. My peers could not understand why I was not there, and when I told them, I was on the receiving end of yet more cruel and hurtful words and actions from them.
Several teachers in the primary school I attended had an energy about them full of encouragement and acceptance, and in their classroom, I was happy. This feeling would be short lived for there were many other teachers in the school who were not that way inclined, including the school's Principal. He was authoritarian and closed-minded in his approach to me, and in his own way bullied me because of my religious upbringing. His wife on the other hand, the Deputy Principal, was the most gentle, caring and soothing person you could hope to meet. She was a delight to be around for her energy purely and simply exuded love. This did not mean you could 'get away' with anything, rather, when an issue arose, she was respectful, she listened, and held a space for a suitable resolution to the problem, while supporting the student in changing their behavior to be more appropriate. To this day, I have fond memories of her. Overall, though, my early school years were endured, rather than enjoyed.
As I continued to grow up within the Jehovah's Witnesses, this too became more of a test of endurance rather than something to be enjoyed. At the age of ten, I became acutely aware of my sexuality and my body. As an active child, I enjoyed a number of sports, particularly football (soccer to some) and tennis. I had a particular aptitude for, and enjoyment of football. At school, I was the only girl to participate in football practice, much to the initial dismay of the boys. Yet, through my skills with the ball, and my tomboy approach, they soon came to value me as a member of the team. I soon became one of the boys!
It also helped that the male teacher I had, who also took the sports session in school, was of the view that girls were as good as boys and challenged any snide comments or remarks my male peers would make. Yet, with the physical changes that began happening to my body, my mother became concerned I could be injured and these potential injuries impact upon my developing female form. Therefore, in speaking to the teachers in charge, my mother told them I was not allowed to participate in playing football during sports time. I did not get a say and the decision was made for me. Therefore, instead of football, I switched to netball, and even though I was quite skillful, I did not enjoy it as much as football.
Yet, my love of football would not dissipate and I found a way to keep playing it. Nearly every lunch I would be in the playground playing football with the boys. I would hang out with them and play the games boys' play; cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, hide and seek (which as the boys played it involved climbing the school walls and going out of bounds). I had no time at all for playing with the girls. What they saw engaging; skipping with its various songs and chants, playing dress-ups with dolls, braiding hair, clapping hand games, was completely beyond me. Even to this day, I am perplexed by it.
Within the Jehovah's Witness congregation to which I belonged, there was also a group of men, young and old, married and single for whom football was a passion. Every Sunday afternoon, after the congregational meeting, a large football pitch became a hub of activity. I do not recall how I did it, but I managed to play football with them every Sunday afternoon. They encouraged me each step of the way and over the years, it got to a point where both sides vied to have me on their team. Therefore, I learned to play as one of the boys, with all the rough and tumble this involved, and I loved every minute of it.
Some of these men also enjoyed tennis and so I played tennis with them and sometimes their family members at local tennis courts. This beat hitting a ball against a wall in the schoolyard by myself or against the wall of the cottage where I lived with my mother. I would read tennis magazines that instructed me how to improve my technique and which provided news of the latest competitions and top tennis personalities. Then, when I was 11 we bought our first television and I was able to watch tennis matches on the screen. I spent hours watching the Wimbledon grand slam event when it was on, dreaming one day of playing there.
Excerpted from Transform Your Life, Transform Your Teaching by Lisa Carberry. Copyright © 2015 Lisa Carberry. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
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