Blog, Guest Blogger Feature, New Energy Consciousness

Guest Blogger Feature… The Magnificent Kristine Rodriguez, aka CandidKay

September 18, 2017

IAM so delighted to introduce you to my WordPress friend… the Magnificent Kristine Rodriguez aka CandidKay… who I know many of you know from her WordPress blog CandidKay. Most of us simply call her Kay when we correspond with her… not thinking much about it… but Kay, CandidKay is Kristine’s way of keeping her kindred spirit friend Audrey close to her and honouring both their natural talents for writing in a real and magical way; bringing the rawness and the swelling of love in life, to hearts that are ready to open.

Kay was Audrey’s nickname for Kristine when they met in their young adult years and just before Audrey died she told Kristine she had true writing talent, to be candid and allow her voice to say it all.

Do you feel the pure emotion of love in the air now… and the knowingness of there being no separation? I see only one pool of consciousness that CandidKay dips into, not with one pen, but two as she writes her candid stories to bring her readers into the heart and soul of life.

I just love how Kristine shares her own experiences in life, the ups, downs and middle of the road in a creative, down to earth and humorous way that encourage us all to move through life in a light and playful way… experiencing it all the best we can. Maybe one day soon we’ll find Kristine’s ‘Book of Experience’ on the shelf and IAM sure I won’t be the only one to applaud.

If you haven’t met Kristine yet, pop over to her blog, relax in a chair and drink the goodness of her tales that are sure to refreshen your outlook on life and bring that giggle up and out into the open air.

Kristine shares her feelings on the alchemy of compassion…
My mother had three weeks to live. She was exasperated, frightened and cranky on this day—her head still filled with all the things left undone. She ruminated on how her family was possibly going to get along without her guidance. Her Napoleon complex was showing.

She was weak and couldn’t quite brush back the hair that fell on her forehead. After a few failed attempts, I gently smoothed it back for her. She batted my hand away in a sudden show of strength.

I was hurt, but not surprised. And felt foolish for even allowing the hurt in. After all, had this not been our pattern for years? Me trying, in a moment of vulnerability, to bridge the gap between us—and her going for my soft spot in my moment of weakness rather than accepting the olive branch. It was my father in me—that need for human connection. A need she found weak and unnecessary.

My sister had smoothed that same tendril of hair just hours before, with my mother breathing a grateful sigh of relief.

Oh well, I thought. It’s not as if a lifetime of hurt is going to be fixed in the final moments. Again, my father in me. The dramatic moment, wanting sentiment to overcome all the ugly that came before it. Sentiment was not in my mother’s wheelhouse.

I kept expecting compassion from her. If not unconditional love, at least compassion. It never came. Not as a young child who preferred books to people. Not as an awkward teen with braces and pointy angles. Not as a young college grad finding my way. Not as a mother shepherding two boys without a roadmap.

I was the “surprise” child, bursting upon the scene late in my mother’s life and after which she had a hysterectomy. I was the one who knew very clearly at a young age that I was in the way. Temporarily halting her career trajectory. Her star had really begun to soar before I came along. Not one to be deterred by her own flesh and blood, I remember a string of babysitters, a lot of alone time, and being the one to approach her—always–for a goodnight hug. If I did not, we skipped it. I was young enough to know I wanted at least the semblance of a “normal” loving mom. Let’s just say we rarely skipped it. I was nothing if not persistent.

I guess I arrived unwanted by more than just one. My sister often recounts how she could have gone away to college and had a “real wedding” had it not been for my arrival. Six girls and a small ranch house spelled limited funds for my parents.

It was not until I had my own children that I sobbed about all of this. On the stairs in my own house, realizing I really had not been mothered properly. Realizing that the numerous times she forgot to pick me up—and I stood, alone, in some public place—weren’t just slips of the mind. Finally comprehending that her not wanting me to call her at work was less because of the interruption and more because she wanted to live as if she did not have a young child. She was done with child rearing, a task she seemed to find distasteful.

Enough with the sad bits. Here comes the miracle.

I have often wondered if compassion is something we are born with or must learn. How do you explain abused children who grow up to help save the world? Or children who are given a good home but treat their fellow human beings like dirt? I cannot answer the question unequivocally, but I can answer it for me.

I was born so very sensitive. With a full quiver of tender emotions. I loved my dolly and my dog with a fierce mother love not taught to me by anyone.

An old soul, I was reading Wayne Dyer by the age of 12. Buddha’s teachings in my teens. Lao Tzu in college. I went through therapy to heal my mommy issues. And I worked my ass off, frankly. To become. To ascend. To transcend.

It is not that I have not felt compassion throughout my life. I have. But it is only now, in my middle age, that I find it more all-encompassing. “Love thine enemies” was an oft heard admonition in my Catholic upbringing—with many a sermon expounding on it. None of them was a how-to. There is no how-to for staring ugly in the face and not reacting per our gut instinct. But success stems, I realized, from compassion.

When I attended parties in the past, as a woman of a certain age, I’d see those who always imbibe more than their fair share. As the night progressed, so did their decibel level. And their veneer of civility declined in direct proportion to the decibel level incline. I would think to myself: “What the hell is wrong with you? Did you not get this out of your system as a young adult when the rest of us did?” I won’t go on with my thoughts, but suffice it to say—I am my mother’s daughter in some ways.

But now, for some unknown reason, compassion has alighted on my shoulder even when my “enemies” are around. Perhaps it’s years of being a seeker. Years of working on myself. Years of prayer and meditation. Or maybe it’s just dumb luck. Either way, the inner conversation sounds more like this as I see this partygoer again and again: “What is it in your life that you run from? Why do you need an altered state so badly? Something must really hurt. I have no desire to engage with you right now, but I’m going to hold you in the light and wish that you overcome whatever demon chases you. Peace, bro.”

Man, the difference. I see the pain for what it is. The bravado no longer fools me. It may still annoy me, but I am able to feel the compassion crest over the annoyance. I can walk away, not angry, but wishing them healing and peace. The same thing happens at work when I see Big Egos bully sane adults. Does it still anger me to watch? Oh yes. But do I see better the pain and unresolved issues it stems from? As clearly as the daylight through my office window.

I used to think compassion was the stuff of saints. That it had to be pure and unadulterated. That love poured through you when you felt it. Ha. Naivete runs deep. I now realize compassion for most of us errant humans comes with anger, disappointment, confusion, annoyance. It coexists. If we’ve really done the work, it hopefully edges out the others. For me, just ever so slightly. Just as my mother was not an absolute—she had moments of tenderness—compassion is also not an absolute. Unless you are lucky enough to be a saint.

During my divorce, I did everything in my power to protect my kids from a father who had gone off the rails. Who loved them but was putting them in danger. He thought—and may still think—that it was due to bitterness. To me hating him. It wasn’t. I remember sobbing in the shower, repeating over and over to God, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I was torn to my core that I could not save him from what held him. Despite my intense anger at him totally losing it on us, I felt compassion. For him, and the pain he must have been in. For me, because I had done my best and it wasn’t enough to make a difference. For my kids, who were getting dragged through the experience. The emotions were one big ball of turmoil—but tops among them was compassion. When I realized that, I wept some more. I was able to offer what I had not been offered in my formative years. For me, that was victory.

It’s OK, I realize now, to feel compassion and walk away. In fact, many times it is necessary. For those of us not raised with the warm, soft and fuzzy, it is probably essential. We have worked hard to earn the compassion we feel. We have nurtured seeds within us others ignored. We have raised ourselves, in many ways, to be a decent human being. We have realized our compassion may not be unadulterated but it is potent just the same.

It is only in finding compassion for that decent human being—myself—that I have been able to find it for others. “Love thine enemies” must be proceeded by “Love thyself.” Even if the ones you think should, don’t.

That’s true compassion. And the open door to so very much joy and freedom. I wish it for you.

Namaste.

Kristine Biography…
IAM an experienced journalist, marketing executive and mother of two, I write about life as I know it. Sometimes happy, sometimes sad, sometimes hilarious. But always interesting.

Connect with Kristine
Website… CandidKay.com
Twitter: CandidKay
LinkedIn: CandidKay

Thank you so much Kristine for joining me here on this great compassionate adventure, for sharing with us your experience of the alchemy of Compassion and for your beautiful writing from the heart about REAL life.

 

Guest Blogger Feature... Your Magnificent Self

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I share my own magical journey, exploring Who I AM with the help of nine Elemental Beings and expand from a world of fear, struggle and limitation into a New Energy Consciousness of love, grace and freedom. It is in this loving space that I discover my Divine and ALL LOVING self and allow myself to integrate together as one Body Consciousness… a DivineHumanBeing… and Magnificent Master Creator who expresses and creates heart and soul passion on the physical plane and beyond.

 

 

Are you READY to dive deep within yourself and prepare for your new role as Master & Creator? As Earth & Humankind find themselves amidst great change and transformation… my MasterCreator Class guides you into unknown territory for you to create a life of freedom, compassion and celebration.

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22 Comments

  • Reply Mark Lanesbury September 18, 2017 at 6:55 am

    The words of a very wise woman young lady. Our journey really does make us face the one person that it really does matter to…ourselves ♥
    And my friend, in all the writing I have heard your heart sing, and after now understanding your journey from your story above, there is an echo of your mom. Simply because those people we love and look up to are always the one’s that hurt us the most. But in that sometimes painful journey is the wisdom to ‘see’ our hearts, after it is tossed and battered in those big sea’s in our lives, so that we can finally understand and appreciate those calm moments of joy and love as we find them ♥
    Each of your post’s I await because I know that they will be created from that wisdom, built using their understanding, and finally layered with a loving humor that we will all relate to…because of that compassion that you have built them on, each layer of your heart being exposed in courage in that writing ♥
    I bow to a master, a master of self. May that love always shine truly Kay, in each word you share ♥

    • Reply Barbara Franken September 18, 2017 at 6:23 pm

      Yes you say it so warmly Mark… how Kristine spills her wisdom in her posts in a beautifully humorous way… to help all our hearts sing and dance during our experiences. This collaboration of posts about compassion is surely attracting the presence of true masters… IAM honoured. Thanks Mark and here’s to many more happy reads from Kristine. Much love Barbara x

  • Reply candidkay September 18, 2017 at 1:45 pm

    Extremely kind words, Mr. Lanesbury. Thank you so much. It’s true we are shaped by our pasts, but I like to think those are just nudges. And the real shaping takes place consciously, in our choices around those past experiences.

  • Reply Writing to Freedom September 18, 2017 at 2:56 pm

    Wow Kay. What a powerful and touching post. I appreciate your deeply honest and vulnerable sharing. Kudos, Brad

    • Reply candidkay September 18, 2017 at 3:19 pm

      Thank you so much, Brad. I’ll admit I gulped before I hit “send” when emailing the post to Barbara. But I am sure I am not alone in my journey–and it’s in the sharing we’re all strengthened, right? Wishing you a beautiful day.

      • Reply Writing to Freedom September 18, 2017 at 3:25 pm

        Agreed Kay. I find great comfort is sharing authentically. I look forward to connecting more.

    • Reply Barbara Franken September 18, 2017 at 6:14 pm

      Hello Brad… So nice for you to join us here and simmer in the creative juices of CandidKay, who IAM so honored to share with you. Thankyou and much love, Barbara x

  • Reply George September 18, 2017 at 4:30 pm

    Wow…I don’t know where to start here, Kristine. Then again, I don’t know that I should..or even could.
    Thank you for helping us understand ourselves a little more by showing so much of yourself. It won’t be forgotten by anyone who reads your words.
    Stay well.

    • Reply Barbara Franken September 18, 2017 at 6:11 pm

      What lovely words to write to Kristine… I feel your heart presence here and I join you in marveling Kristines journey as she relays essential truths to us all… love Barbara x

    • Reply candidkay September 18, 2017 at 7:01 pm

      Thanks so much, George. It was tough, I’ll admit, to publish this one. But I guess we’re all out here in the ether writing to help each other on our journeys. This one, to compassion, has been a central one for me. I’ll hold those kind words of yours to my heart:).

      • Reply George September 19, 2017 at 4:20 am

        How did you feel after you sent it, Kristine? And after people read it, did your thoughts and feelings change again?

        • Reply candidkay September 19, 2017 at 2:14 pm

          I felt slightly apprehensive but the over arching emotion was authenticity. If you can call that an emotion. I think, having hit a milestone birthday, I continue to sink more into my own skin and worry less about what that means to others :-). That is a good thing.

          • George September 19, 2017 at 3:52 pm

            Yes, it is..:)

  • Reply Healing Grief September 18, 2017 at 8:29 pm

    So beautifully expressed Kristine. . Your writing is always raw, honest and so real! Your story makes me want to hug you and remind you of the beautiful light compassionate, wise being you are in this world. Thank you lovely friend 🙏🏻💕💚

    • Reply candidkay September 18, 2017 at 8:50 pm

      It is I that should be thanking you for your words of encouragement! Thank you for being such a kind witness to that honest writing. It’s not always easy to put out there . . .

    • Reply Barbara Franken September 20, 2017 at 6:44 am

      Such beautiful words for your friend… I agree totally and Thankyou for being a friend to us all on WordPress. Love Barbara x

      • Reply Healing Grief September 20, 2017 at 7:15 am

        Thankyou Barbara. Beautiful friends on WordPress 💕💚

  • Reply Andrea Stephenson September 18, 2017 at 8:40 pm

    A wonderful insight into compassion – where it may come from, how hard it can be to practice, but how wise it is to cultivate it.

  • Reply balroop2013 September 22, 2017 at 5:16 pm

    Thank you Barbara for guiding me over here to find this poignant post by your loving friend! The first few paragraphs tugged at my heart…waiting for mother’s love and compassion is so heart-breaking…the muffled yearning could reach me. It is amazing how Kay could steer out of those emotional upheavals and some more dark moments of protecting her children and yet nurture compassion…very well articulated Kay. Love and hugs for saying it so well – ‘compassion is potent.’ No wonder it molds us so well into balanced and understanding individuals.
    Thank you Kay, for sharing your personal journey towards compassion, it is so uplifting.

    • Reply Barbara Franken September 23, 2017 at 7:21 pm

      Isn’t Kristine expressing something here that so many resonate with… the lack of a mothers love… having to deal with life on our own… AND knowing we will fulfill our role… because of the seed of love that lies deep within and propels us forward in the name of compassion. Thanks so much for joining us here. Much love, Barbara x

  • Reply Cynthia Reyes September 23, 2017 at 5:06 am

    A powerful and beautifully written piece, K. Brava.

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