The intention for sharing our stories, big or small, is to find the transformative edge that leads to our self development and self actualization in order to create a new world of love, peace, beauty and freedom. YourStory submissions can be sent to medea@selftransformation.ca. Please send stories on a Word Document, along with a title and picture/photo to go along with the submission.
Some questions to ask yourself:
An ongoing story by Gabrielle Holmefjord. Freya is Disheartened. Freya shuddered a little as she felt the cool air settle around her. The sun was disappearing in the distance, and the evening was becoming dark. She had been sitting on the moss-covered rock under the tall pine trees high up in the mountain for a long time now. She didn’t know how long she had been there. She had lost all track of time. It felt like an age. It must have been several hours, at least. Freya felt a deep peace within her, a peace that seemed to include the trees...
read moreMy friend Kym Howe called me today from the Vet Emergency Clinic where her and her friend Louise were holding her precious little adorable kitten KabooOm, who had been there since last night very ill. There was nothing else the Vet could do for KabooOm…she was ready to depart this world after her short but very loved life. I knew very strongly I needed to be there with Kym to support her. As I was driving I wondered if I really was going to be ok emotionally. Since my son’s passing I have developed a “sensitivity” towards death and...
read moreSome people know the 5th of November a day in the year. Others know it as a day a man was discovered trying to make a political statement by blowing up Parliament buildings. Some know it as a part in the movie V for Vendetta. Regardless what anyone discerns about the fifth of November, it was a historical event and had a poem written about it. You may have heard the poem; Remember, remember the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I see no reason why Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot. Guy Fawkes, t’was his intent...
read moreStory by Gabrielle Holmefjord Freya had long golden hair, blue eyes and a lovely smile. She was a happy girl who was curious about life. Freya loved adventure. She also loved mountains, especially the quiet, open space beneath the tall pine trees. The best time to go up the mountain behind the town where she lived was at twilight when the space beneath the trees was illuminated by the light of the setting sun. It was magical. Freya loved to leave the mountain path at twilight and walk into the magic space beneath the trees – to see the...
read moreI am 20 years old. I have Cerebral Palsy. And I am wearing a short skirt for the very first time in my life. I feel awkward. I cannot assess at all whether it looks good or not. It’s just so different. Air, cold air, around my lower legs… some kind of sexiness… scary and joyful at the same time. I feel this is a big step for me. I don’t feel ashamed for my extraordinary legs and running style but I show it off. WHOA! I am being a self-confident, abled WOMAN rather than a little, dis-abled girl. WHOA! ² Amazing!...
read moreOn the evening of May 14, 1968, the expansive presence of our heroine BexakkA enters the zone of life on Planet Earth via Bozeman, Montana. Her mission? To clear her karmic debt and ascend! Of course, this is forgotten during passage through the birth canal. On her journey to remembering this birthright, she is surrounded by the everlasting love of her parents, family, and friends. Her first awakening occurs on a summer vacation to the Reddig Farm in northeastern Montana, when she finds herself all alone at sunset, sitting on top of an old...
read moreBy MEDEA BAVARELLA CHECHIK When we were children, my sister and I were very close. Being older by two years, I was the extrovert, the leader, and the fearless one. My parents used to say, “Because you are the eldest, you have to care for your little sister.” She used to follow me around and I would create all kinds of situations for both of us to experience. It was the way things were in those days, and we both seemed to accept each other’s roles. This continued more or less the same way until she was twenty-four years old....
read moreThe River Beneath the River By Donna Iona Drozda © 2000 “The old woman La Loba…who lives beneath and yet on the top side of the earth. She lives in us and through us and we are surrounded by her.” A great theft takes place when I am nineteen. It is a theft of my soul in three parts. The first loss comes in early June when my newborn baby is relinquished through adoption ‘for his and my own good’. He is swiftly delivered to his new home where a family waits to enfold him as their own. I held him in my arms long enough to...
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