Sharing the Journey

Meditation? Ghosts? Genealogy? Co-Creation? What do these topics have in common? Although they might seem disconnected, I will share how all of these became my spiritual journey at the April meeting of the Central VA IONS Community.

IONS, Institute of Noetic Science, was founded by Apollo 14 astronaut Edgar Mitchell, the sixth man to walk on the moon, after a profound experience on his trip back home from his voyage to the moon.  In that moment, he “knew that life in the universe was not just an accident based on random processes.”

I had the same kind of experience on my journey to China to my father’s ancestral villages and in writing my book, Conversations with a Hungry Ghost: Memoir of a Reluctant Medium.

You don’t have to go to the moon or to China to embrace your spiritual path. I will share some easy exercises to assist the journey to consciousness. I hope you can join us.

You can sign up at  Meetup.

IONS APRIL 2017_x

 

 

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Celebrating the birth of a book – Conversations with a Hungry Ghost: Memoir of a Reluctant Medium

There is a Chinese proverb about a red thread of fate that connects us. I felt that red thread pull me to my ancestral villages in China, and through the veil that separates most folks from the spirit world. It played such a huge part in my life even before I knew anything about anything. So, naturally, it graces the cover of my book that I just released on Amazon. I hope you’ll check it out.

Conversations with a Hungry Ghost: Memoir of a Reluctant Medium.

Through the course of writing my story, I am no longer a reluctant medium.

 

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Rooting for Truth 寻找真相 Coming Home

 

Coming home: I knew today would be miraculous, but I have no idea how exactly it would play out. The trick is to get out of my own way.

Today was the first day we hit a road block in the village, Sam Dor, where my father and two uncles were born. Only two elderly women in their eighties, and their memories were fuzzy. I knew the chances were slim because my father was born 106 years ago.

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I set out on my own following a hunch, sure that I would be able to “feel” the energy of the house. Elsie followed at a safe distance. Down a lane where an empty lot stood between newer houses. Two tractors stood guard on the lot. Suddenly, I was pushed from the front and also from the back at the same time, squeezed by two bookends of an invisible force. Unafraid, I stood and took a deep breath. Chills coursed through my body showing me that I was on the right track. As a medium, I listened for the message which clearly said to go to Gong Ye.

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However, we headed to the next village which was very close by. It was where my great-grandfather was born, but we did not find a structure to go to or close enough relatives to give me clues about this cosmic puzzle I’ve been working on. Instead, the village chief showed us where my great-grandfather’s house once was. What we found were piles of rubble and yet, I stayed open to what was meant to be.

So, I performed the ritual on the overgrown plot where my great-grandfather was born in Hong May Village. It was an organic ritual, less ceremonious than the previous ones. It was perfect! I chose the spot and knelt on the ground where I placed my uncle Don’s poem on the ground to create a makeshift altar. Next, I placed three pieces of incense into a crack formed by a stack of rocks. I bowed three times to honor all my male ancestors as I said a Buddhist prayer and read my Uncle Don’s poem. I felt his hand on my shoulder as if to confirm my mission on this trip and the story I am writing.

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Then, as if a movie played in my mind’s eye, I saw the walls of the house form around me like a 3-D printer. I heard sounds of joy and knew it was my great-grandfather’s naming day. I knew that he was fated for success as a sojourner, that he would have many sons and a good life. (The records I found a NARA confirmed that he was a handsome man and was indeed successful at the shops in San Francisco owned by the Louie clan.)

I created another alter in the opposite direction but this one was for all my female ancestors, especially the ones who stayed behind when the men “went out” to the Gold Mountain. I felt them standing around me, tears flowing down their cheeked for being honored. I felt a special connection with my great-great-grandmother, who had bound feet.

Several more altars and the mission was complete. Then, as if to affirm the new beginnings I saw a su gum (squash) at the last place where I put incense. More was growing in another corner of the plot. It’s blossoms dotted the space with bright yellow. I picked one of the blossoms. A village lady wanted me to take one home with me so I would have the seeds. I found a fragment of roof tile to remind me of the next part I want to explore when I come back again: the Lei (putanghua for Louie) family architects, as well as the town of Gong Ye, where my family settled after they moved from Sam Dor.

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Village women brought some wonderful pastries to us which were being made for a wedding to take place in three days. We joined the ladies in the community building where I passed out red baskets that I had crocheted to each of the villagers. The red baskets represent the ancient Chinese belief: An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet; regardless of time, place or circumstances. The thread may stretch or twist, but it will never break.” I gave lucky lai see to the bride-to-be and also to the chief of the village, who I hope to see again on my next trip because I know this was just the beginning, and I will be back again.

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As if to say, “Now, go and share your gift with others,” I was guided to give a reading to the village chief, to our local guide, and to one of our guides from the Guangdong Overseas Chinese Vocational School. With each reading, the message was clear “We are not meant to do everything ourselves. Be open to help from others, and magic happens.”

I am grateful to our Friends of Roots guides and my fellow Rooters, our guides from the Guangdong Overseas Chinese Vocational School, to the local guides and the people of the villages, and to my ancestors who guided me home to the source.

When you drink water think of its source.

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Rooting for Truth 寻找真相 in a Small Village on the Other Side of the Globe

Until my father died, I did not know where he was born. No matter how many times I had asked him when he was alive, he evaded my question. Consequently, the only think I knew about Dad’s life in China was that he was afraid of water because his father threw him into the river.

My Caucasian mother ran away from Dad when I was nine and took me, my younger brother and sister with her. We were raised in the South and the only Chinese words I remember from my childhood were多謝 duō xiè “Many thanks,” and some words that sounded like “ki doy” and “ki nui” that I thought meant “bad boy” and “bad girl.” I have not found the correct transliteration in any Chinese/English dictionary.

Even though my exposure to the Chinese culture was limited, I was drawn to all things Chinese. I look less Asian than my brother or sister, but I feel Chinese. I feel drawn to China by an inexplicable force.

After I reunited with Dad in 1969, he did not share his story – our roots. Everything changed in 1990 when Dad died, and his ghost stood at his tombstone and wondered “What happens next?” I was aware of him at his funeral but after years of blocking the ghosts I saw as a child, I could not see or hear him clearly until I learned how to meditate and studied metaphysics.

Long story short, through my conversations with my father’s ghost, I began to piece together a crazy quilt about him, about his life in China and his life in the United States. I began to understand why he was so secretive. And I discovered the name and location of his village along the Pearl River. There’s just one hitch. It took twenty-six years to draw his story out. He would be one hundred six if he were still alive. I will be lucky to find anyone in the village who remembers the 华侨 wah que, the young man who went overseas. It doesn’t matter because now Dad knows that I was sincere about wanting to know our history and that I will go back to the village to honor my ancestors, and then I will write his story, our story.

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The take-away is this: if at all possible, do not wait too long to learn your family’s story. Gently pry open those shells to find the pearls of your family’s story. Sometimes the shell will be empty, but when you find a pearl, it will be precious. Like the grain of sand inside the oyster, some aspects of our lives are irritating and yet can develop into something quite beautiful.

Rooting for Truth 寻找真相

 

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Pigs are known for their rooting skills, and since I was born in the year of the pig (Chinese calendar), I ‘m sure I have a nose for rooting. I’m not looking for truffles, but I am searching for something precious, at least to me. My ancestors.

This year, I joined a Roots group, an offshoot (pun intended) of Friends of Roots: Him Mark Lai History Project (http://www.friendsofroots.org). They specialize in researching sojourners from the Guangdong Province of China. Where will my Roots adventure take me? My destination is a village in Taishan in the Guangdong Province of Southern China, but I have a feeling that the trip to China is just one step in my quest. A very important step. Like any quest, there have been obstacles to overcome and fears to face along the way, and for me, that meant facing my life-long fear of ghosts.

My father, like so many of his generation, was secretive, and he carried his secrets to his grave. When he was alive, I did not know why he would not tell me about my Chinese heritage. When I asked him about China, he’d wave his hand at me and say, “Be American.” Everything changed after he died in 1990. I sat at his funeral and went through the rituals like a dutiful daughter, but I sensed his presence.

Although I was aware of ghosts all my life, I had blocked them and told them to go away. But when my father’s ghost appeared, I knew I had to find a way to communicate with him. I first saw my father in the Tenth Hell of the Buddha, where I saw that he had to atone for his misdeeds, and there were many, but as I researched the teachings of reincarnation, I helped him see another way beyond the issues he left unresolved and unfinished. I honored his beliefs through rituals that were meaningful to him. As my understanding about reincarnation grew, I saw where we had known each other in another life and why we chose to reincarnate in this one. It wasn’t easy, but after more than twenty years of conversations with my father’s ghost, of rooting for truth, I am headed to China where I hope to honor my ancestors. If the journey there is anything like the past twenty-six years, I know it will be quite an adventure.

If any of you have family who immigrated from China, I encourage you to talk to them as much as you can about their story. Even though my father was not as open about his story as I would have wished him to be, digging through the records at NARA (The National Archives & Records Administration) was revealing about my family’s long history in the U.S. since the mid-1800s. I am still deciphering what I discovered at NARA, and I am in a quandary about what I will learn in China. I can imagine the house in the village from the descriptions from the immigration interrogation, but I am not certain yet if it is still there. The Roots team is helping me do the research with a team in Guangdong, and I feel as if my ancestors are guiding me.

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(Left photo: Louie Fat, my great grandfather; Right photo: Louie Mow, my grandfather)

Even though I may not learn the whole story, I have learned that love does not die, and every answer leads me to a hundred more questions in this never-ending journey.

July 2017: I am looking forward to learning more at a Chinese Genealogy Workshop knowing that there is something more driving me in this search for my roots, not entirely sure what that something is, but embracing the journey with heart and soul.

 

 

FREE Summer Read: The Not So Secret Life of Emily Elizabeth

Happy Birthday, Dad, who was my first guide on the “other side.” He would have been 106! I am still working on the book,

I am still working on the book, Conversations with a Hungry Ghost: Memoir of a Reluctant Medium, which was inspired by the experiences I shared with him since 1990 when I sensed him at his funeral. I promise to finish it after my trip to Dad’s birthplace in China. Definitely, by the end of the year.

In the meantime, I finished a paranormal short story, The Not So Secret Life of Emily Elizabeth. So, I thought it only fitting to offer it for FREE to celebrate Dad and all the other ghosts who want to share their stories. CLICK HERE to pick up your copy. Enjoy!

If you like the story, please feel free to share this link with your friends and to write a review when you are finished.

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THE CENTER – RVA

Today is a very special day – the beginning of a new chapter in my life. For over twenty-five years I have been researching reincarnation. It all started with conversations with my father’s ghost. Dad was a Chinese Buddhist, and I wondered what his beliefs in reincarnation would mean for his next life. However, like so many people, he did not know a lot about Buddhist beliefs about reincarnation.

But when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. Then, Brian Weiss, M.D., author of Many Lives Many Masters, entered my life and, like a caterpillar’s transformation into a butterfly, I began to change. Like the butterfly, whose struggle to come out of its cocoon is an important part of its process to be able to take flight in the world, I have gone through a process to prepare me for this day – the birth of THE CENTER – RVA, a center for spiritual growth.

My reincarnation research, my conversations with my father’s ghost and all the teachers who have come into my life, and putting what I have learned into practice has prepared me for this next chapter. After years of training with Sanaya Roman, Brian Weiss, M.D., and Carol Bowman, I am pleased to “move forward in the direction of my dreams.”

THE CENTER – RVA is a center without walls. It is more about a state of mind than a bricks-and-mortar place. I will offer classes, workshops and gatherings while I continue to work on the book, Conversations with a Hungry Ghost: Memoir of a Reluctant Medium, and prepare for a trip to my father’s birthplace in China with my Roots Plus group.

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Check out my website for THE CENTER – RVA and join me for my upcoming workshop, Karma 2 Dharma: From Healing the Past to Embracing Your Life Purpose.

Last, but not least, I want to say “Thank, Mom.” I had cared for her for over a year before she left her physical body in January, and I shared with her some of my beliefs about what happens and where we go when we die. It was an experience I will always treasure. So, I was not surprised when she came to me moments after she crossed over. Like a mother bird who pushes the baby bird out of the nest, she said, “Don’t be afraid. It’s time to fly.”