Spiritual Climate Newsletter MAY 2006 Part 2 BOSOMS, BRAS and the SPIRITUAL PATH, by Wendy Ford

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Bosoms, Bras and the Spiritual Path

By Wendy Ford

 

The first part of this article is germane to any female who has ever had to buy a brassiere.  Gentleman probably can’t relate but neither has the purchase of an athletic supporter or jock strap been in my experience.  My husband tells me the two experiences are not dissimilar.

 

Driving down the street my palms started to sweat, my stomach was heavy with dread.  My mission: the purchase of a new brassiere.  Having put the task off for far too long it was a trip of desperation.  The girls needed help.  Badly.  As the old joke goes:  What did one boob say to the other?  “If we don’t get some support around here soon they’ll think we’re knee caps.”  Anyway, as I pulled into the local Wal-Mart several deep breaths were needed and the fight against just driving to the dentist instead was a tough one.  Finding a parking spot went fine, letting go of the steering wheel was a little harder.  Once out of the car and pointed in the direction of the front door I breathed a huge sigh.  “OK, this isn’t so bad.  Just put one foot in front of the other and move.”  Entering the store was easy as the nice older lady greeting me managed to distract me with her friendly smile.  She had no idea the terror lurking just behind my smiled greeting back.

 

Gripping the handle of the cart as if it were a lifeline I pushed the cart ahead of me wielding it like some great shield heading into battle.  My approach to the lingerie area projected an air of confidence not felt.  After all, thousands maybe hundreds of thousands of women all over the country do this every day right?  Certainly I could accomplish this simple task.  Seeing the intended target area I turned my cart and entered the appropriate aisle.  (Cue the music from the shower scene in the movie Psycho.)

 

Bras to left of me, bras to right of me, bras hanging higher than I could reach and lower than anyone cares to comfortably go to read the tiny tags.  Just to reach in and look at a tag means one is accosted from left, right, above and below by the cups of other bras that seemed to take on a life all their own.  It was like entering the Enchanted Forest and the tree limbs were reaching out for me.  There were bras with plain or elastic shoulder straps, spaghetti straps, wide straps, flat straps, round straps and no straps.  There were bras that hook in the back, the front and some that just apparently were attached to nothing with no apparent way of staying on a human form.  There were bras with one hook, two hooks, three hooks and ones that looked like they could be worn into the gladiator ring.  There were bras in every color of the rainbow and in so many designs it was dizzying and dazzling.  There were bras with padding, without padding, bras with under wires, bras that squished ‘em together and bras that lift and separate.  There were bras that support for eighteen hours and ones that appeared to be worn with the intention of not being left on for very long.  Some didn’t have hooks at all, and some had these little sliding things that looked like the plastic bread wrapper doodads hooked together.  The materials varied from the very utilitarian white cotton to the wispiest of laces to something that looked like it could stop an armored bullet.

 

It all became too much.  I was overwhelmed. Retreat was sounded.  Clutching my cart for dear life I started to execute my escape plan and made it to the end of the aisle only to discover there were actually four aisles and three of those round racks that stand on the floor all filled to overflowing with more bras and all standing between me and the sock aisle which was my target for refuge.   By using the sock aisle adjacent to the underwear aisle as a shield I was able to evade the millions of bras that were now threatening to bury me alive.  My escape was to be to the main aisle where the books were but they had rearranged the stock and I came face to face with a wall of, oh no, cookies!  Gulping in air like a diver going down for a second time with the theme song from Mission Impossible now pounding in my head, I made a hard right avoiding eye contact with the cookies eventually finding the main exit.  Struggling to maintain a cool composed manner the cart was dutifully returned and placed in the cart corral.  After having made it to the safety of the fortress of my car I just went home. 

 

Good God.  It’s enough to traumatize the strongest among us.  No wonder young men’s palms begin to sweat when they think about venturing under the outer covering of their date’s ensemble.  Who knows what lurks beneath?  In the old days some young men practiced unfastening the mysterious bra using a bra attached to the back of a chair.  Back in the old days a bra was of white cotton and had two hooks in the back.  Some became so skilled in the maneuver they could flick open the bra one handed.  Or so I am told.  Not so today.  My sympathies to the dating males of today!

 

Eventually I went to a Foundations department of a ladies store where a very nice, patient and knowledgeable sales lady guided me through the process.  She made sure she understood my needs by asking the pertinent questions, took measurements then made suggestions as to the most appropriate garments.  She guided me to the correct area of the department where my size and style were located then left me to choose what I would purchase from the appropriate selections.  She answered my questions never once making me feel ignorant or stupid.  Did you know that over fifty percent of women are not wearing the correct size of bra? 

 

All right, all right.  What in the world does buying a bra have to do with the spiritual path?  Quite simply it is this:  It is not possible to grow spiritually or find Truth without expert guidance.  Without a True Spiritual Teacher, without being in that presence the spark of the Divine that lies in potential within each and every one of us cannot be nurtured and brought to full flame. 

 

One can walk into any metaphysical store and run into the same problem as the discount house lingerie department.  Books everywhere on topics from A to Z, self study and self help books and literature and tapes and CD’s, crystals and lotions and potions, amulets and necklaces, finger rings and toe rings, oils and waters, chimes and fountains, incense and potpourri, readers and advisors, aura photographers and palm readers.

 

But is rare to run into an expert within those walls.  By expert I mean a True Spiritual Teacher who can provide guidance and direction.  A Teacher who has the skills and gifts that enables him/her to be in contact with your soul.  The Teacher who in very short order knows the true you better than you.  The Teacher who, in reality, your Soul has petitioned for assistance in opening your access to communication with IT.

 

Once you have come into contact with your True Spiritual Teacher and have chosen to step onto your spiritual path you can be given access to skills and tools to use on your individual journey.  These tools and skills will promote the development of the ability to open the communication with your Soul.  Over time, if you keep asking, the “expert” will continue pointing you in the right direction giving you a nudge now and again when you stray, metaphorically shoving the mirror under your nose forcing you to look at what is going on when you refuse to see, clapping his hands sharply right next to your ear when you refuse to hear, rapping your knuckles soundly when you refuse to let go of some cherished misguided belief or opinion, yelling “get up” when you stumble, yet ready to hold out an open hand and heart to gently lift and support and nourish when needed, even when you might not realize you need it.  For without the “expertise” your journey toward spiritual growth and development is impossible to accomplish.  It is a paradox:  It is a solitary journey yet it cannot be embarked upon or continued alone.

 

How does one go about finding a True Spiritual Teacher?  Generally, if you ask and seek the Teacher will appear.  The very fact that you are reading this newsletter indicates some part of you is asking questions.  Dr. Strickler is my Spiritual Teacher.  He may not be the one for you.  The only way to find out is to get in contact, ask questions with a genuine thirst for knowledge and wisdom.  Be willing to admit you might be wrong in some of your beliefs and opinions, be willing to admit you have areas of ignorance and arrogance, be willing to look beyond false self imposed boundaries and be willing to let go of your attachment to the idea of being limited to just this physical form.  Be willing to shed a few tears, willing to lose some sleep, willing to shed the old you as the new you pushes outward from within.  Over time, be willing to be filled with a joy and wonderment at being alive, be willing and prepared for the death of the old you and the birth of a new and truer you. 

 

Over the years, under the guidance and direction of your Teacher, the layers will be peeled away and the spark of the divine hidden in potential will be provided with enough spiritual oxygen to flare into flame.  The communication lines with your Soul will have been cleaned of sludge and misconnections through the use of Divine Draino.   The divine seed of potential hidden deep within will begin to soften and sprout eventually allowing for the growth and unfoldment of who you truly are: a child of the Elohim.  A jewel in the crown of Creation.

 

Don’t be afraid to ask.  This is one area the do it yourself method won’t and can’t work.  Find an “expert”.

 

Blessings,

Wendy Ford 

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About Rev. Strickler

USA, Arizona. Khonsu Order Priest of Thoth, GrandMaster; Qabalist; 56 years old; I teach Ha-Qabalah, Spiritual Alchemy and Principles of Consciousness for over 30 years. Stroke Survivor (Right Hemi) in 2004 and Disabled. My Favorite Book is by Anthony Paone, S.J. entitled 'MY DAILY LIFE' (still available). Currently I have produced over 32,000 of discourse, talks and lectures
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