Just as I had feared it would

The day dawned bright and cold

The glue could stick no longer

The seams all lost their hold

At first I couldn’t pick them up

The pieces lay in shards,

And scattered to the blowing winds

Like a deck of playing cards.

I searched at first half-heartedly

Not wanting to believe

The whispered scraps of evidence

My mind began to weave.

I came only to know the truth

By the Spirit’s patient teaching

By gentle words of kind reproach

And time and time beseeching

The spirit taught me first to see

that to receive the greatest gift

I must, as wel, give credence to

The great eternal rift.

That first I  must embrace the fact

That evil does bear sway,

In a world of relativity

Where Love is the only way.

And then I tried to justify

The actions of my dad –

The teachings of his fathers

Were what had made him bad.

The Voice then gently chided me,

And calling me by name,

He pointed out the obvious –

Our teachings were the same.

And that became the turning point

From whence I understood –

It’s not the circumstance that counts,

But the choice for ill or good.

Back

At last I cxould believe the things

My pieces had to tell

The psychic walls came tumbling down

And the truth began to jell.

Those days were the loneliest

I hope I ever spend

As I set forth to do the work

Of helping myselves mend.

I gathered every single piece

And peeled the paint and glue;

Uncovered all the hidden pain

And suffered it anew.

I took my pieces to the Lord

And laid them at his feet

For I could find no mortal way

To make the edges meet.

I fared that I would ever be

In pieces on the floor

Or that I’d have to wait till death

And rising, to be more.

But no, He gathered every piece

And held them to his breast

Infusing them with love and light

Till each formed with the rest

He held me up to see myself

As I had been revamped

In place of porcelain sugar bowl

Was a leaded crystal lamp.

My simple form was exquisite

Each facet catching light

Reflecting out to others who

Were searching in the night.

A guiding light he made of me

And set me on a hill;

A sparkling beacon of His love

For others broken still.

    

      Julia Fairchild - 1996

The Darker the Night, the More Brightly Beam the Stars

an address given at Unity Church

by Julia Fairchild

The properties of light and dark are fascinating to me.  If you have two  rooms, standing side by side with a door between the two – one with the lights on, and other with no light at all, no matter which room you open the door into,  the light floods into the darkened room.  The darkness cannot penetrate,  diminish, or in any way affect the light in the other room.  The whole truth is  that there is no such thing as dark – darkness is simply the absence of light.   Of course, there’s no such thing as time or space, either, but in our  particular time and space, there appear to be all three.

It is my observation that the darker the night, the more brightly beam the  stars -- that unless we’ve given credence, honor and understanding to the darkness in our lives, we can’t appreciate the light.  If you’ve never been cold, you don’t know warm.  If you’ve never been hungry, you don’t know full.  You could shine the brightest beam of light to the sun all day long, and no one would notice.  Send a flashlight to the moon on a dark night, however, and you can follow it’s beam for what seems like all the way there.

In the last seven years, I’ve come out of the dark. I spent two years, from  1992 till 1994, in the fetal position in my bed.  Since then, I’ve learned a  great deal, overcome an alphabet soup of diagnoses, including PTSD, OCD, DID, or  MPD, and severe depression.  I’ve completed two degrees, one at Allan Hancock  College, and one at Antioch University, both majoring in Psychology, and my  story has been published, along with seven others who have overcome similar  circumstances, and is available at Amazon.com. . Multiple Journeys to One

I’ve also completed training in Rapid Eye Technology, hypnotherapy, sand tray  therapy, and I’ve become a Reiki master.  I’ve purchased my own home, and  remodeled it to double its size.  I’ve regained custody of my four boys, and  attracted  yet a fifth to fill my home way past capacity.  For the past year,  I’ve been published monthly in Information Press.. . .   I’ve come to love and be  loved by a myriad of new circles of friends, one in particular who mirrors my  divinity,  my joy, and my sacred journey. 

I’ve changed my spiritual perception from one of fearful dogma to one of love and acceptance. . . .Life is really good, and continues to deliver on a promise made to me by an early therapist that "as bad as life ever was for me, it would get that good!"  That was quite a promise, and I’m seeing it come to pass before my very eyes.

In those early years, however, as the mother of four little boys, from ages  two to twelve, I’d tell them,  "Check with me before you dial 9-1-1-, but  otherwise, leave me alone."  I had come to the end of a 20-year struggle with  depression that finally put me down, and I couldn’t get up.  I was hospitalized and  drugged all to no avail.   When I refused shock treatment,  they told me  there nothing more they could do.  My husband at the time finally could help me no more, and he sat me in a heap on the street with nothing more than the  clothes on my back and an overnight case.  I had no income, no insurance, and no  will to live, let alone work.  I later told my therapist that it was a good thing  he kicked me out, because I would have died before I left my children. . . .she replied that it wouldn’t have been long.

It was the kindest thing he ever did for me, and free at last of his constant  criticism, I immediately began to feel better, and to seek help again.  I was  taken in by church members, and I spent the next year alone in a rented room,  coming out only to visit my therapist once a week.  She saw me with the  promise that when my disability settlement came through, I could pay her.  I did.   The first day I saw her, I presented her with this poem, which I had written,  as a portrait of where I was, and why I was seeking her help. I had written  it in response to a former therapist who diagnosed one of my ailments as  Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and told me no one knew how or why OCD developed.  I wrote this poem to illustrate my knowing of how it happens.

It was Mary Bienkowski who taught me that when a child is faced with the kind of trauma that I remembered clearly, let alone the snippets that had begun to seep out of my subconscious memory, they have three choices. . . they can die. . .many do;  they can become psychotic, or they could use the marvelous power of their minds to multiply themselves, to create more of themselves to handle abuse that one child could not survive.  Well, I’m not dead. . . .I’m not psychotic (as far as I can tell), but I do have a few extra names.

I won’t introduce you to all of them, but there is one part I’ve very recently "discovered" and I introduce her to illustrate how the mind, body and soul work together.  I have become more and more far-sighted, and as it has developed, I’ve had a knowing that it was directly connected to my very good ability to see all I need to see for my clients, but not to see so clearly my own stuff.  In fact, it seems I can’t see my hand I front of my face.  A few months

after the dawning of this realization, and after a very significant dream, I visited one of my colleagues in Ojai for a marathon session, where "Margaret" finally made herself known to me.  "Margaret" is the part of me that didn’t repress her memories.  She’s the part that stayed awake during the whole process, and took all the consequences of the acts that I couldn’t remember from day to day.   She didn’t have access to the memories of the myriad other parts, mind you, only to the consequences and childhood acting out that occurred as a result of the abuse of the other parts.  Because she acted badly, with no seeming good reason, she believed herself to be "bad".

I’ve come to see myself

Once lovely porcelaine

Now cracked, rebroken, cracked again,

And countless times reglued,

And painted – over and over and over and over and over and over and over and

over

I feel as though I used to be

A sugar bowl of bisque

Fragile, flawless, exquisite

And then the men,

The ten or more

Who played their evil games.

Oblivious to my tenderness,

Ignorant of my worth

They all reached forth with grasping thumb

To break away a piece of me.

I rescued every single piece

And glued it back in place

And carefully painted every seam, over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over

To cover them, I counted

Lines upon the highway

Every step to school

Poles and scalloped wires

I honed my intellect

Adding numbers all day long

And multiplying, too

Tracing every letter

Spellig every word

Typing, typing, typing,

And shorthand curliques

All inside my head, of course,

For no one ever knew

That every breath was measured

Every step was counted,

And every line defined.

I rode my bike in China (as a missionary)

For sixty hours a week

And every moment diligent

To aim the front wheel right

I halved the painted shoulder line

On eery single street

And as I halved, I counted,

In chinese, over and over and over and over and over and over and over and

over and over

Before I had my Doublemint

to help replace the thumb,

there was cotton wool or mattress tick

with which I filled the emptiness

and served to keep me dumb.

And don’t forget the warm spot (inside my elbow)

With the three-sided vein.

That I fondled with a fingertip

As I typed or spelled or counted

In cadence taps of three, over and over and over and over and over and over

and over and over and over and over

Did I mention I sing as well?

Yes, little nursery rhymes

Or on a good day, even hymns

But only one refrain, over and over and over and over and over and over and

over and over and over and over

Thus I painted over the cracks

The only means of knowing

That I had been destroyed

I functioned very well

As anyone could see

I was quite amazing

So talented and smart

No one would ever guess

Least of all, myself.

I birthed my babies one to four

And carried in my bowl

The sugar for them all.

And as the years have taken

Their unrelenting toll

The glue has started peeling

Beneath the coats of paint

I gave them all my sweetness

And they scraped the sides for more

But since no one ever filled me

There wasn’t any more

As they’ve continued scraping,

The cracks have come to show

I fear the day it happens,

The day I fall apart

I’ve used up all my glue now

And painted out my heart.

          Margaret Cavaletto

              1994

Porcelain Bisque

In slight digression, I’ll tell you that when I received my Rapid Eye  training in Oregon in 1996, there were people there who could see auras, and one of them in particular came up to me and told me he could see that I was really "scattered" and offered to help.  Through several sessions, I accomplished another round of integration (which I thought was all done), and about nine of my parts "danced to the light", leaving only one, whom I had always called Julia.   On that day, I changed my name from Margaret Cavaletto to Julia, Fair Child of  God. 

Unbeknownst to me, "Margaret" didn’t go anywhere, and since that day had been feeling "left for dead" because I had rejected my old self; wanted nothing to  do with the person who had been "Margaret".  When I discovered her presence,  I was really quite surprised and embarrassed at how obvious it was and how  blind I had been to her existence.  On the day that I discovered her, I was freed  of a powerful addiction I had struggled with for years, to Coca Cola.  That’s  a whole ‘nother story, but it was a very graphic illustration of the power of  these parts we are not aware of. 

Margaret is also the part of me who hates children. . . which is a terrible  feeling to have when you have four or five of them.  Now I realize that since  Margaret has been a mother since she was three years old, she has a right to  hate children, and I relieve her of her duties when she feels overwhelmed.  I  remind her that she can go play, and Julia will do the dishes (or better yet,  we’ll make the children do them).

The truth is, we all have parts.  Many a theorist has called them many a  thing.  There’s Freud’s id, ego, and super-ego.  There’s Jung’s conscious, subconscious, and super-conscious.  There’s the spiritual reference to the Father,  Son and Holy Ghost, and our awareness  of mind, body and soul.  Many an author has dealt with the idea of having parts.  There’s current stuff out by such  authors as Hal and Sidra Stone, who wrote "Embracing Our Selves" about voice  dialogue among our parts.  There’s Lucia Cappaccione, who writes about "The  Power of the other Hand. . .in olden days, there was Thomas Gordon, who wrote about the differences between our "parent, child, and adult" selves in Parent Effectiveness Training.  My favorite is Richard Schwartz, who wrote  Internal Family Systems Therapy, and The Mosaic Mind, among many publications.  Who among us woke up this morning, and when you realized what day it was,  part of you wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, while another part knew you  had to get here early if you wanted coffee, and still another part voted to  go to the beach on this beautiful day.  If you’re "normal" (which is a setting  on the dryer, and nothing more) there was a far-away  little part of you who  shouted, (whether  you heard it or not) "If you don’t get up and go to church,  even if it is only that namby pamby feel-good place with a view, you’ll be  struck by lightning and go to hell before the week’s out!"

It was in this very room that I received a clear picture of understanding of  our work here, and how it works among our many parts.  I once had a beloved  LDS therapist who used to work at Atascadero State Hospital, and CMC, who told  me that he believed that during the first half of our lives, our mission was to "ingest hell", and that as we spiritually matured, it was our job to clear  the temple, to sweep all the corners, and to "get the hell out".

Using the analogy of our bodies as a temple for our spirits, I sat in this  room and got the very clear picture that the conscious mind could be compared to  the "main floor", where all the stuff we can keep track of happens (or not);  that 10% of our mind that we are aware of using.  The basement houses all the stuff contained in the 90% of our mind that uses us!  All the old baggage,  family history, ancestral patterns, curses and tendencies, the DNA formulas, the  fears, misperceptions, etc., etc., etc., as well as the unconscious workings  of our bodies, like breathing and digestion, etc.. . . .the cafeteria, the  boiler room, the sewage treatment plant.

And THEN, in the attic, or the "holy of holies" of our temple, resides all  the powers of heaven, of the collective unconscious, of All That IS. To the degree that we can "throw open all the windows and doors, to clean out  the basement, and bring understanding of noble intent to each of the hidden agendas there, and avail our Selves to the reality of All that IS, to the  extent that we can INTEGRATE those three areas of our being, to that extent, are we Awake!

About that same time, I was driving down the freeway on the way home from  recording a radio program with Sandra Marshall, and I commented to Ben, who had  published his first article in Information Press, that he was such a resource  to all of us, and time stopped, and the word "resource" played itself over in  my mind, and I got it!  What is a resource?  It’s a tapping into something bigger than we know. . . and yet, this picture of a fish in the ocean came to me, and I got that we are to Source, as a fish is to water – a fish is in, around, under, and through. . .in fact, he IS 99% water – yet the only time he has any awareness of the water, is when he is yanked out of it!  How many of us will wait till we’re yanked out of our conscious awareness to have any awareness of All that IS? 

I finally understood why the human mind is vital to our awareness of Who We ARE!!!  It is only through use of that 10% of our mind that we are conscious of, that we can funnel All that is – that we can "RE", or access – Source!  It’s as though the conscious part of ourselves could be used as a magnifying glass . . .that by focusing our attention o whatever it is that we want (unless we choose to focus on what we don’t want) we can funnel the power of All That IS into our desires. .  . .or our fears. . . .we get to choose!  It’s all about

choice.  It’s all about integration.

I love to read "Conversations with God".  I think it should have been named, "Course in Miracles for Dummies". . . .. I love it.  And in there, he talks about Divine Dichotomy. . .in my rough translation, to mean that anything that is true is a dichotomy. . .like the one that says "we are all one" while at the same time affirming that each of us is a unique, wonderful, valuable jewel, multi-faceted, yet alone. . .

Consider the possibility, as described in one of my favorite books, The Hathor Materials, by Tom Kenyon, that as the solar system is a movement of planets around the central sun, each living creature within the solar system is a galaxy unto itself, with each atom representing a solar system!  The central sun would be represented  as the nucleus, and the planets as electrons, spinning around.  Just as the solar system is mostly space, each living creature, as we know from quantum physics, is 99 percent "space".  Energetically speaking then, each individual human being (or any living creature) can be seen as a walking, moving, galaxy of stars!!

At the other end of the spectrum, there’s the universe of intelligence present in every cell of every organ of our bodies.  As Norman Cousins says, in Head First, the Biology of Hope, "Not even the universe, with its countless billions of  galaxies, represents greater wonder of complexity than the human brain.  The human brain is a mirror to infinity.  There is no limit to its range, scope, or capacity for creative growth".

  

Steve Rother, at Lightworker.com,  suggests another perspective when he writes of the "cosmic joke".  He says, "We ask you to gaze upon the night sky and see the beauty of the stars as they shine reflecting light throughout the many other worlds out there similar to your own.  At this point your three dimensional understanding of the Universe tells you that you are nothing more than an infinitesimal speck of dust in the greatness of all that is.  Now as you continue to look upon the heavens we ask you to listen carefully for the great laughter that is so often over your shoulder.  You look upon the Universe and believe that you are reflective of all that is.  We tell you the truth is that the vastness of the Universe and the Universal flow of energy is a direct reflection of you.  You have been in a state of expansion since the game began for this was necessary for God to see Herself.  The Universe has efficiently emulated your actions.  Now you are beginning to re-unite with your own and each other’s higher selves in a wonderful re-membering process and that too will be emulated in the Universe." 

What does any of this have to do with you or I?  I see each of these concepts as illustrations of the divine dichotomy of how we relate to each other in the whole of mankind, as individual galaxies in the vastness of space, as ONE, as individuated cells, each with specific and unique intelligence to run the complexities of the human body, as mankind, as unique individuals with no copy anywhere. . .the list goes on.

Another fascinating dichotomy is the idea that we are all one, and yet many.    In all the cosmos, it seems there is only one Mind, one Collective Consciousness. . . .and yet to look upon the peoples of the earth, there seem to be six billion we can count.  And looking  again at an individual,  there seems to be but one, and yet, looking deeper within we find a myriad of "mind  states" or "parts" or "personalities" which tend to rule the heart and mind of the individual from places unexplored within.   We all know that the chemistry created between people makes one behave as one personality with his boss, and yet another with his little  child, and still  a third with his wife.  Add an extra lover to the mix, and find a whole ‘nother self!

Or, for instance, within a society, perceived as many, there may be perpetrators and violators of the system, as well as their victims -- still another illustration of polarized and opposing parts of a whole.  As we come to see ourselves as ONE, we will do so by recognizing that every act, whether seemingly positive or negative,  is only energy until bent to our perception.  We may come to understand that those parts who seemingly act in opposition to the "good" of the whole may not have information or abilities to act in congruence with that good.  Yet,  if there were no darkness, there would be no need for light.  Darkness gives us definition, helps us to define who we are, in relation to "that".  Hence, even darkness can be perceived as a gift.   As we each seek the gift in every act, every spoken word, every thought, every situation, we come to realize that there is only one gift. "Evil" is "live" spelled backwards.  As above (light) so below (dark).  When we can each embrace the ups and downs, the light and dark, the good and bad of ourselves and one another, we will all come to sing one song, as a uni-verse, with the varied notes, both high and low, which give any melody voice.

Epilogue to Porcelain Bisque

Well, that was written five years ago, before my Rapid Eye Training. There, I learned that there’s no such thing as "broken".  I learned that at the core, each of us is perfect, whole, divine, powerful, omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent.  I learned that every occurrence is pure energy, and energy is only energy until we place a perception on it.  I learned the seven principles of the Life Skills, and that once we’ve removed the paint and dung and tar and other stuff that has hidden our divinity, we need to become aware of the new

ways of thinking, perceiving, doing, of being.

In short, I learned what an Antioch professor, and a wonderful therapist, proclaimed to me, as I sought his advice on helping myself through a perceived problem.  He said to me, "I've known you through several classes, and through your writing, and through our association together in this independent study, and I’ve come to the conclusion that "the only thing wrong with you is you think there’s something wrong with you.  You don’t know who you are!"   Nothing ever hit me with more force.  I believed him at a core level.  I submit to you that this is the whole truth in a nutshell.  The only thing wrong with any one of us in any given moment,  is we think there’s something wrong with us.  We don’t know who we are.  I’d say, we’ve come to the right place to find out!  Let us continue to serve one another, to behold the divine in one another, and to mirror the divine in each and every soul.

From my heart to yours, Namaste’. . . . .