Careless Speech (L.D. #8.5)

Ah, the myth of the clear Blue Throat Chakra. That place in our bodies from which most of our troubles ensue, especially when we use words to “tell it like it is”. At least coming from our perpetually biased and distorted personae, as we are all humanly imperfect, most words we speak really are lies.

In truth, the throat chakra is a slight blue-green. For our words always have touch of “gold[1]”, when received by those to whom spoken.

A fact and consequence of a man’s ability to speak words aloud[2], changed my life dramatically. While they were reflective of our encounter in that moment and said while in “trance[3], along with his tone and glance, I didn’t know what hit me. His innocent cupid’s arrow of kindness pierced me in such a way- my being cracked. 

A spirit flew into me at a moment when I needed it- as if a shard, and later a tongue of gold from his heart to mine was offered. My heart said “yes” and took it- though my brain went haywire; though without him I am bereft[4].

Even though not meant personally, it has been almost 16 months since those words were spoken; I’m barely better[5].

All culminating on a fateful All Saint’s Day in 2019.[6]

Sure one can just toss keys to the prisoner, but sometimes what comes out of that jail isn’t pretty or nice. The feelings, especially “intense and passionate”, were ones I’d been stuffing without outlet.

Over the next 24 hours, this cupid’s arrow became a sense of daemonic possession. My body and soul with his spirit, became constantly one.

I’m not kidding~ It is so distracting; I can’t get anything done but write about it! Working ‘my program of sobriety, and talking to others isn’t enough to help me[7]– especially as the possession continues. 

I thought I had a Higher Power, where is It?

For a time, I couldn’t even read, my favorite pastime, from constant tears and an overwhelming distraction of flame like surges of love endorphins. I went into free-fall; I’m hopefully now feeling more like interminable cart wheel. 

Very little slowed the world down; I wasn’t in my senses. And then the pandemic hit, and I have no one around, no source for serotonin[8]. Nothing to weigh my keel.

What did I do? I was desperate.

I smoked pot and a lot of it. The obsession was really horrible; pot was the only thing that stopped it. With that I attend, “420 University”, as I like to call it. My kids were not thrilled. I didn’t/don’t go out anywhere (of course with the Pandemic, neither did anyone else).

Also, I ‘have to’ tell everyone about how I am feeling -when I do see or speak to them..(a lesson in assertion- for me)

Fortunately, going through my actual possessions, like Marie Kondo recommended, I am surrounded by “that which“sparks joy”. Animism abounds. My house is becoming a home.

Sure, call me any name you want, but what would YOU do, if you were I?[9]

Only by opening those portals, did I get any peace or fathomed understanding.

This was very confusing lesson for me, at first.

Mind you, I’ve been pretty devout to G-d my whole life, having lost so much when I was younger…though passive about my faith though I did give some testament. It was a painful shift for me to even ask the waiter if there eggs in a dish or could they please hold them! I didn’t want to make waves with anyone.

Thankfully, much of that is better (Inshallah) -although I’m at a new level of test. I’m challenged to find stillness and atonement, but this is just in time for Lent! I’m right on time, again.

This possession was exactly as I’d predicted a theoretical possibility. I’d heard it described by several others; and mocked by the psychiatrists. These discussions I didn’t encourage.  Part of me scoffed- until I had a dream a few years ago,about being in a spirit kayak and releasing entities. A dream so vivid, I was motivated to write about it. Literally, the next day a young man called me, and wanted me to rid him of a spirit! To which I said “no”, and referred him elsewhere.

While most of this “possession” are sensations of being constantly and intensely loved on- starting in solar plexus, then moving into my left side body, in time moving to the right, accompanied by sense of breath and perspiration odors. There are also flash pictures of him that are not on the Internet[10]and also some that seem to be future images as well.  At times, I feel moved to pick out wedding music and hum strange tunes (another new activity – before I arranged my marriage dutifully).


The fact is, around this time last year, I was mostly furious.

To G-d I cried out, “Why” have you done this to me? I have done no-thing to earn this reward. I have asked you for no-thing for myself, either”…  “I have always been your servant!”

The answer I got boomed, “Exactly”…and “You haven’t asked” me for anything (…until now that is). And “you were willing” when those bright eyes flashed, “to be loved deeply”, as long as it were “whole”.

And promised me him or someone “better” (whatever that means), maybe a Persian prince? (Just kidding.)


Thus this is a test of faith[11]to which I must surrender and transform. Still, I was afraid I’d need a lobotomy. Maybe I still will.

When I called on real world spiritual advisors, the results were, and are confused, to say the least! Probably the woman with the NDE, or near-death experience, was confusing lifetimes.

During these months, I have learned (a little bit) about falling in love.

I get to say out loud, ‘Yes, I love you” several times a day[12]and when sensations[13]are overbearing, get to stop and take time for ‘him’, if you know what I mean. 

Learned that “love” (in myself) must be nurtured and can’t be shut on and off easily. It is a real circuit in the body.

My ‘dead fish approach’ to relationships that feel toxic, (Basically I’ve only engaged with (fr)-enemies, not wanting anyone to get close) just isn’t enough, I must share my perspective, then accept the outcome. Even if it means fewer f(r)iends. No more borderline splitting.

Studies and work- taking care of the needs of others, aren’t everything important (even if the money is seductively good).


My posture improves; I have set healthier boundaries with my kids and my ex. I started cultivating ease in my life, when before I was meticulous.

The absurdity (?) makes me dance too, and laugh, even sing, to reconnect with things that are dear to me and bring sweetness. Lately I’ve been connecting with my pancreas[14].

I’m learning how to put on an inner corset (of gold), not just walk around wide open-hearted and unconditionally supportive; I am learning to have faith that people will be OK without me, no matter what that looks like.

That it’s OK to be buxom. It is my birthright to stand tall with my shoulders back (even when grounded humbly).

And, I was lovable as an intense and passionate being, at least in that moment – despite what my family tells me!

I thanked “him”, (his L.D.) a lot, which makes me feel even better. Then I can turn to my housework and chores. Never one to primp, suddenly that has worth, but no, I don’t wear curlers!


Writing helped me acknowledge the depths of the mystery, though writing about him directly, of course makes it worse. For whatever reason, I had to go to the actual person, in order for it to abate, which is why I brought the eggs up. Is assertiveness a connection? In this I wonder.


Once while living in California, I had a best friend who was a sweet and gentle soul. We were both nine. Jace and I would go on long walks through the woods. We roamed grassy knolled ranchos with grazing cattle (not tipping them), and named tide pools, as Cambria is on the coast. He thought wildlife was cool too, even if it bored the farm kids.

Speaking unselfconsciously was freeing; we talked a lot and about everything. We looked up at sky together. These were moments of bliss and at-one-ment; it was uncomplicated… [15]

At the end of that year, just before I moved away[16], there was a kiss goodbye. With that kiss, our innocent romance was over. And yet, that is just the type of man I hope to meet someday!  He’s out there[17].[18]; I know it.


So while anyone has the right to free speech, and if “what you say or think of me (or I to you), extends to the tip of my nose”, as one twelve-stepper had the way of saying, and maybe most times you can let words slide off like Teflon, no matter what, sometimes words really hurt!

With free speech, the person with the most power gets to say them.  Those with purse strings, consciously choose what is said during airtime. For that reason, “Free speech” is really a misnomer, I really wish they’d “fix” the First Amendment. Hold your tongue if you know what’s good for you. Reread the Old Testament book of Sirach, It doesn’t mince words! Speaking out of turn or rank, the weaker one will suffer.


That the person who said them won’t speak to assuage me -maybe his bros or legal advisors told him to just ignore me and I’ll maybe just disappear- is especially hard to accept- being one to seek integrity and closure. I will endeavor to do so and each day it is getting better.

My next essay, on snow, will no doubt be a crowd pleaser[19].

He has the power; I do not.

After almost 30 years of practice, I used to have a gentle shtick for when a patient got too close to me[20], so I know that he could have used wise and kind words too, to gently let me down. ( I gave him this in one of my ‘letters’.)

It went like this: “I really appreciate your feelings for me but I have to tell you, I’m already in a committed relationship, with vows that I made to G-d and the to the one I married. What attraction you see in me is a reflection of your own inner self. You will find someone similar; I’m a representation of what you value! 

That would let me sleep with a clear conscience. It seemed like win-win; I got a compliment, and their feelings weren’t trivialized. If I were willing to cheat for them, why not with anybody who comes down the pike later?

There were times naturally when the shoe was on the other foot. Assiduosly trying to stay in a stifling marriage, part of me was on lookout., dark, handsome and kind- with a brain, are attractive. Since the brain was the most important to me, that did narrow it down. My husband, technically we are legally separated, is sure I’m less than he. He values math and data, applied to his scope of interest.

So I’d go through a mental inventory of what made them stand out. Politically parodic, funny with kind sarcasm, enjoying the vagaries and complexity of a given situation. Able to appreciate nuance and 50 shades of grey. There is otherwise no way my eye would stray, if my heart were fully golden- right? I’m a one man woman! (LOL)

To be threatened with a violent end, my L.D. the man threatened the po-lice on me, when I’d DONE nothing WRONG or in any way threatening, from his words that serendipitously stirred me with uncontrollable emotions, is a case in point. I wonder, how many people, women, would really have been more self-controlled than me under the circumstances?

If this had happened ten years ago, I’d have severely punished myself for it happening, let alone the divorce, probably mortally. While I’d promised G-d I wouldn’t hurt myself as a kid, being Buddhist I wondered if I’d just have to come back and do it again, or worse. As an adult with my family and career over, I mostly can’t see the point of living. I renewed my pledge to Him- for what, at this juncture, I do not know though.

It is OK, and we should feel comfortable expressing grief- no matter if misdirected, as in this case, and even if it’s messy[21].

To handle grief more healthily is why one sits in Shiva to witness a passing; and why women the world over, wail with losses. Even the animal kingdom has mourning rituals! Acknowledging grief with others, the quorum is important- you do want to have the minyan, this creates a vessel and endpoint which, in and of itself, is therapy.

[1]Caramel gold, as in Karma

[2]As in the essay “pompous

[3]Any state in which one is emotionally susceptible, characterized by deep relaxation and with one’s peripheral protective sentinels of super-ego protection off guard. Trance can touch ones deeper wants and needs.

[4]In that past year, 2019, I’d lost my mother, two pets, ability to drink wine, and worst of all, eating anything with an egg in it, baked or otherwise. The month before All Saint’s day, my life got crowned – my husband asked for a divorce just before our 26th wedding anniversary; and my spiritual group (mystery school) showed their true colors of being a cult. I was even supposed to be with them on the day this happened! Lastly, I was fully retiring from being physician. A job I really loved but felt was no longer authentic for me. Those losses would rank high as a trauma score! Am I not entitled to a nervous breakdown?

So in that week particularly, a lot was evaporating from my life. Those losses aren’t trivial- at least for me anyway! And yet, here I was as always open to a new experience to save me.

[5]No doubt this is testament to my obsessive personality –valued in medicine, when you are a grunt writing notes- and plans are scrutinized mercilessly; notes aren’t just for patient care, but more for insurers and lawyers. I was a star at getting thorough and detailed notes completed before the end of the day.

[6]F*ck, never again will I doubt any talk about spirits and All Saint’s day! Mind your seasonal portals! Although in truth, this is all projection and superstition.

[7]Everyone said exactly the right thing to me; it was me who couldn’t give ‘him’ up (at least until now).

[8]Got to say, I agree with Tom Cruise in spirit, that depression is spiritual. And…no pills helped either. 

[9]I’m still open to suggestions. 

[10]Mostly with longer hair, skipping sideways while coaching, shooting hoops and having fun with his men folk. Even smoking! Once I chased after him crassly with a rolling pin, in curlers, while he laughed hiding under a stoop. 

The time(s) I did astral project myself, once he was tying flies for fishing, and the other he shut the door on me (there was a woman with him). With the door shut, I felt relieved, until a few minutes later an even younger version of him showed up beseeching me to have patience. Ugh, it was all so weird, but I resisted using Spokeo, even though I could have.

[11]Many of us know the story of Aleister Crowley – the Golden Dawn mystery school magician and wizard who became corrupt by being too attached to outcomes-I think it was the Toth cards especially; becoming fully “evil” in the end. Look to Steve Bannon for an example of what that looks like present day. I don’t do magic other than protection rituals (and look how they helped me- NOT).

[12]Neurolinguistically, saying out loud you “love” anything, is a good thing!

[13]I have noticed with my love daemon “projection”, that the pathways for these body sensations were likely formed by previous meditations- including Vipassana, shamanic journeys, and dreams. This experience also simulates a Kundalini Awakening, at least according to mystics and the on-line questionnaire I found.

[14]Once I did a yoga class that focused on all the work being initiated with the pancreas. It was not a difficult class but two days later I could barely move- my core was engaged strongly.

[15]I have looked for that since, but being so work-oriented myself (until now), I resonate with the ambitious, those who leave little time for the poetic. 

[16]My mother moved us approximately every 9 months growing up; I’d lived in ~13 places by the time I went to college. So basically would have been an “army brat”-though the Army does have services for families, to help with all the changes. I was socially dissociated- or maybe it’s Asperger’s Syndrome.

[17]Also to be tall enough that I don’t stoop (any more, my ex- was shorter than I; I ducked during our wedding dance and then over the years lost 2 inches conforming to him (and from back surgery?) so a chiropractor would be a plus – though feet are important too! He would have to have a sense of humor, and strong belief in G-d (obviously). He has to love working with his hands-like me; I was always the first one to roll up my sleeves (at one time). And naturally, like me, love to dance- not need to intoxicate himself in order to listen and move, to music- while dancing with me too.

[18]Looking back through my journals- I find many stories about crushes, infatuations, and unrequited love. This obsession then, is not really new for me. I get to deal with it more appropriately, than say drinking myself into oblivion, over-exercising, or even eating my favorite desserts – all egg-based.

[19]Especially given the devastating weather conditions many are facing. I’m sorry if my timing sucks.

[20]Unfortunately it usually included the phrase, “happily married”, which was just not true and what made me vulnerable in this instance. Perhaps my personality was too much-,…I am personable. For many men and some women too, that is hard to handle, they take it personally. Each soul is a diamond in the rough needing polish.

[21]My sister was horrified when I started to cry on the phone recently. She called me “too emotional”, that I must stop it! Furthermore, that I am a failure for crossing the client/provider boundary- even though it was his words, looks and action that did it. She is right.  The doctor and woman is always wrong in the eyes of the law, at least until now.

By Dr. Jen Wyman-Clemons, MD

Dr. Wyman-Clemons treats the body, mind, emotions as well as spiritual wellness using tools described by established teachers and authors and her own experiences as she experiences an ongoing sense of (loving) energetic intrusion (possession) since 2019. She has ~thirty years of clinical experience as an allergy and internal medicine physician (ABAI, ABIM) has completed requirements to practice as a yoga teacher, USUI Reiki Master, and astrologer.

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