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Post by lizanne333 on May 15, 2005 15:40:22 GMT -5
Devolution says:
Bravo! Seriously, friend, you are to be commended for the INTENT of your heart. You are a find! There are plenty who play the field, and I luckily have avoided them.
I don't know what makes me a spokesperson for these two individuals, for I don't know them personally, however, from Richard's writings and Leslies editing and contribution to his writings, as well as information deceminated here on the forum, I have gained what I would consider an idea of the character of the individuals in question.
Have you ever had an occurance in your life where you INTENDED one outcome, only to have something entirely different develop? I can think of numerous occasions in my life where I meant to deliver a "particular picture" or a projection of "my view of myself", in a writing here on the forum, or in the world of people, only to have that picture "viewed differently" by another, or my behaviour misinterpreted.
So, while I had the best of intentions, and even was completely clear with myself, about my INTENTION, I found I also had a more siluent, deeper vision of an EXPECTED OUTCOME.
In my immaturity, I found that I always had an expected "storybook" continuation of "forever" in my experience. Didn't matter whether it was a story, a relationship, an interaction, or a writing. So in my youth, (and I am still in my youth, well sort of!), I entered into my vision of "forever" and took that vision into the relationship. So already, my vision is clouded with a kind of illusion about the nature of soulmate relationships, in fact it is clouded wherever I take pre-conceived ideas about "how things are supposed to be" (unrealistic expectations based upon "fantasy", or accepted societal mores, pictures, etc.) and there is this rude awakening when the flash of clarity presents itself. When this happens, as it did with me, I denied it, internally, for it was too painful to see. Part of me could see that what was once utopia, and forever, (and maybe I even wrote about my understanding of " forever" at the height of the glory of the relationship), now had cracks in it. I held on at all costs, denying, for it cracked my concept of reality, refusing to "see" what was before my very eyes.
Ya know, as I am writing this, something else is occurring to me.
Soul + Mate=
Soul=Eternal, non-visible, non-local, NOT SUBJECT TO TIME AND SPACE, forever!
Mate=as we observe, is the physical encasement (body) housing the Soul, but SUBJECT TO TIME AND SPACE, aging, maturing, "devolving", evolving, changing, etc. Do we not know that the body is subject to hormones, and environmental and psychological factors, some which we understand, and most that we do not?
I would suspect that on a soul level, Richard and Leslie will always be connected; however, events occured of which I am not privy to; and, from my own experience, "forever" in physicality did not pan out. I am still connected to my former husband, and can almost feel him here with me now, though we don't communicate.
I will repeat what I have said elsewhere. I am certain that while within the relationship in which, and of which Richard (and Leslie) wrote, they spoke to the "soul connection" which is and will be forever; however, the physicality, well, I am certain they had no clue at that time what would ensue.
This is not to say that your soul + mate relationship BOTH in Eternal "Time", and physical time and space won't last forever.
If it does last throughout this physical life and Eternally for the both of you, well, then, many of us have the Bach's to thank, because we have "listened to the message", and NOT ATTACHED ourselves to the messenger, achieving what he was unable to. Lucky for us! T(HE)y must be excellent writers, and have connected to a pure essence in writing for you to be able to achieve such success!
Hopefully, this may give you a different perspective?
Thank-you for your kind well-written post, and thankyou for the opportunity to offer my view.
Lizanne
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Post by lizanne333 on May 30, 2005 18:48:24 GMT -5
Richardish, My apologies, sir. There must be some confusion here. From my perspective, we were examining Mr. Bach, and the movie Illlusions. We can if you like take a look at Leslie. I, unfortunately do not have a great deal of information or input about her at this point. If I may ask, would you be able to provide us with your current understanding as to how Leslie might be? I am fairly certain at this point that Leslie is well, or doing better. However, if you have a more current source of information regarding her, please submit it. Regards, Lizanne Richarddish: By the way, welcome to the forum Below is a link that may serve to help answer your questions. Hopefully, the news is good and if you would, please keeps us posted, as we care too! www.inner-growth.info/private/leslie_parrish_photos.htmFrom what we understand, Ms Parrish likes her privacy. Hope this helps. Enjoy! Lizanne
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Post by wynsong on May 30, 2005 20:49:48 GMT -5
I'm new to the site...and hesitate to offend...however as i read the topic...the question was, does anyone know how Leslie is doing? We have some information on Richard...but Leslie just disappeared off the radar...and for two people who we have come to feel we know intimately from reading their books and in my case listening to them do the audiobooks...I don't think it is at all unreasonable for someone to ask ...does anyone know if she is okay?
I was devastated by their divorce, because I was invested in the "perfection of their love story" as I read it. I, like eveyone else on the planet, project my own stuff on those around me, even fictional characters. How else to see the parts of myself I would like to deny exist? Projection is!
However, if you follow Toltec wisdom at all...almost everything we think is a lie. So Richard told their story, and I read it through my filters, and invested parts of myself into the story....His telling of the story was not truth, but his story....my understanding of the story was not truth, or even his story, but my story as I saw it reflected in his. I was disappointed, because I didn't want my story to end. I was dis-illusioned by the ending of one of my favourite fairy tales...These are not his issues...or Leslie's issues but my own...and in the end, I am always happy when someone dis illusions me...as I am in reality looking for enduring truth.
I also would love to hear that Leslie is doing great. . . but in the end...that is my stuff again...my projections.
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Post by eponine1971 on May 31, 2005 0:39:00 GMT -5
Wynsong,
Thank you for the most accurate take on all this "I can't believe they're divorced" crap. I've read the most hateful, selfish, and childish posts all through this site concerning their divorce and Bach's life choices. You have great insight. Perhaps you have an old soul. Welcome!
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Post by lizanne333 on May 31, 2005 6:11:24 GMT -5
Wynsong said:
The most correct evaluatjion I have seen yet. What an eyeopener! Thankyou wynsong, I have just had the clouds removed from my eyes.
-L
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Post by lizanne333 on May 31, 2005 18:37:59 GMT -5
Dear Leslie,
I have called you, and softly now I record it. I know you understand "lost in a lost world". Asking that you just sneak a peak, for there is one who needs to understand the a-"maze" she finds herself in, for the sake of the "team" of which I am a part. :)softly, softlee, sof.........gently....
L-
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Post by lizanne333 on Jun 1, 2005 0:33:44 GMT -5
Wynsong Says: RE: Leslie Parrish
Key word here is "think".
We will change that to "know", without ruffling her feathers in the least.
I "know" she is/will be well. We shall see to it!
-L
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Post by lizanne333 on Jun 7, 2005 11:43:41 GMT -5
ANOTHER REASON WHY I LOVE JONATHON LIVINGSTON SEAGULL-(non-fiction)
Entering this beautiful valley through the back way, I found myself in a home designed for summer use, overlooking Lemon Hill Farm, as it was in those days.
Bright yellow farmhome of distinctive elegance, flowing white fence run enclosing black angus, peacefully grazing the grass surrounding the magnificent pond.
Pete would daily feed the ducks bread, and they would fly-scoot accross the water to greet him. That is how it was in those days, a magnificent view, now changed, what a shame. But that's ok, 'cause as I walked out upon my deck in the redwoods overlooking this sight, I too imagined this valley filled with water; a resevoir, covering Lemon Hill and all of its' life. I even saw a simple rowboat with Pete inside, fishing rod extended gently over its' side, peaceful sight, it was and still is in me mind. You could see through the water; lying underneath, Lemon Hill Farm, its' white running fence, ghost angus a' feeding, and ducks stil 'flying to greet their bread.....Well, it didn' quite pan out that way though change did come, in a way that made my husband and I run. Greenhouses, a bunch, wired by him. What a project that was, so he took the money, and we moved on, north, to Oregon.
It was a January day, cold and damp in this home with little winter sun; fire blazing in the Buck, keeping me warm. Lit a candle on GrotrianS. Grand and tickled its' keys. Tickle was all I knew how to do, but it helped me some. Recorded it once, popped it into my car, listening, the question arose, "Who IS that playing?", then heard my background voice......it was meeeeee! Oh!, and immediately, how I accused myself of ego, and robbed myself of some pleasure to me, for me.
Rising in my chest was a pain so familiar by now, seemed to come when invited or not.......It hurt so badly as flashes of memory arose in me, feeling misunderstood even by those of this valley, and those from all of my life before, brought forward to this moment as my fingers played with the keys.
Was there never to be relief? Would things never change? I have tried and tried to put it all away, and yet here it was again in this precious moment, currently, playing me like a marionette, but who was pulling the strings?
I decided to walk 3 miles to the sea, imagining the crashing waves upon the rocks bringing me relief. Donning my coat, I walked to the road; past the running white fence with the angus still grazing.
Barns and fences of such beautiful character, twisting, winding road, rushing creek. The redwoods upon the hillsides, oak and fir. We had it all in this valley, for I had never seen such beauty. Funny how perfection greatly enhanced the pain of separation in me, in those days. Heaven wasn't supposed to be this way. You're not supposed to hurt in Heaven now, are you?
Passing Pesky Ranch, what a gorgeous place. Old caretaker there, Joe, he let me partake; of its' glorious fields and meadows, thousands of acres of pastures and redwoods, cabins all neatly trimmed and painted white with green, and yes, black angus I recall, as well as other cattle.
Moving closer to town, wind picking up speed, passing strawflower fields, artichokes and other things, pushing onward towards the sea; for my destination was the sea.
I found my husband throwing wire it seemed in Demetri's place, a powerful Greek. His lady, Linda, could build a strawberry pie; mountain high, with snow smothering its' peak! Mmmmmm..mmm such food in that place, such a character that one, that Greek!
Now, moving on, I passed the dump. High on the hill, I could see Caesar's truck. Caesar had a gold mine there in that dump; antiques, jewelery and other precious finds. Always a smile on his face, hand in a perpetual wave. Hail Caesar!, I thought, as I walked on to the marsh, my favorite-changing colors, vegetation and fowl by the season.
Such a beauteous place, this land in which I lived; but what WAS this pain roaring in my chest; rendering me unable to feel the beauty I so desperately needed?
Ah!, the Ocean, I can hear it. I can smell it, even here and now!
I pushed accross the highway; wind, now a torrent in my face, to the place that I hoped would ease my pain.
I stood upon the bluff; right on top of the crashing waves. I remember them crashing on rocks below my feet; casting their spray, needles upon my cheeks, smelling of salt, oh so refreshing!
On my periphery there was a Seagull; gently rising up to my knees, looking at me, then swooping away. There was something very wrong with him, and I couldn't quite see the first time he came unto me. He came again, now up to my waist and I saw his head in plastic, covering his beak. "Whaaaat?", I exclaimed. "What happened to you, my friend." Visions of Jonathon Living Stone flashed in my head. "I must help you, little one, as JLS once helped me. Won't you trust me. Won't you come unto me?" I got down on my knees, there alone on the cliff and began to pray. "Dear Lord, let me help this one. He can't eat. He can't even open his mouth. Oh Lord, please allow me......" "Jon", as I called him, flew and closer to me; our eyes connecting, and yet he was so afraid, flying off again, only to return to me, again and again.
I believed he knew I was there to help him, and yet his fear could not allow him to land in my hands. It's no wonder, and I could relate, how humans could be so cruel to each other as well as to him. Why should he trust me?, yet in his eye I could see......he wanted to, yes he wanted to, if he only could.
Now laying on my belly, gently extending my arms, I continued to pray. Tears streaming down my face, I asked the Lord again that I may, be only an instrument of deliverance. Deeper thoughts suggested that maybe, just maybe if I were allowed, that in the deliverance of Jon, I too would be healed. So I thought. So I hoped. So I prayed.
But Jon just was not cooperating, and I had begun to give up. I arose and felt some strange magnetism, turning me 'round. Behind me stood two older women, both with large crosses on their necks. I had not heard them arrive. Where did they come from.."Angels", I heard, softly inside.
"Don't give up", one of them said. We talked for a minute, and now I sort of understood, that people were doing this to seagulls for "kicks", just for fun. I turned back to Jon, still hovering above this cliff, with my heart more intent upon helping him..
Then it happened! The "magnetism" twisted my body to the right, and I heard one of the women exclaim, "Look, there in the garbage can".
I know it was a Monday, 'cause the garbage can was full. Someone had laid the full Sunday Chronicle gently on top. There lying on top of the newspaper was Jon, nestled into the can. I couldn't believe my eyes. You'd have to pinch me, to think it was real! I strode over to the can, exclaiming, "It's a Miracle!."
I gently picked up Jon and held him in my hands. It was the plastic from a six pack, securely wrapped, around him in such a manner that neither the "Angels" nor I could remove it.
I was shaking a bit, now, as we decided what to do, when up drove a truck, a carpenter's truck. Living in the area, I did not recognize him. I don't even remember his name. He had no knife either.....what were we to do? I don't remember if it was me, or he, that mentioned his handsaw. Reaching in his truck, he pulled it out.
Upon seeing the "large metal piece" coming towards him, Jon struggled to get free. I held him tight, reassuring him as I could.
The wind was truly whipping around us now, and it was hard to hear, as he freed that bird with his saw blade.
Jon immediately bit my finger! He bit it hard; and one of the Angels said, "You bite the hand that feeds you?" With that, Jon flew free from my hands, rising up in a draft, above my head. The carpenter left. And I couldn't believe what had just happened to me! I was beyond ecstatic!
Turns out the Angels told me they were writers for a Southern California Christian Magazine. They offered to give me a ride back to town at the same time I asked the same. In the car, I exclaimed, "This is the happiest day of my life. You have no idea what......."
"We were all instrumental in what happened back there!", the driver snapped.
"Oh", I said, feeling downtrodden, and guilty. And so, running away from me, draining from my soul, was all of the healing balm that was given to me. All I have left is the memory, until now, until now.
For in the retelling of this story, my perspective has changed, and yah, I am special; why yessirree!, and these things don't "just happen to everyone" who prays. And anyway, Angels are human too; well, aren't they? 6/7/2005
This work is dedicated to Leslie Parrish and those she loves. Leslie, may all of your loves come together in peace; as one.
Lizanne Thompson
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