Welcome!
I'm Elizabeth Flint. Thanks for visiting and welcome. I have some projects I'd like to share with you:
- Here are two translations from St. Gemma Galgani's letters.
- Second are some audio reflections I'll be adding periodically.
- Check out a selected essay from the archives: "The River of Fear and the River of Love".
- I've just added some past writing, including essays from 2009, and some letters I sent to a spiritual teacher seeking guidance.
- Also new are some paintings available for purchase!
- See the Important Warning about Garrison Keillor.
About Me
I was born in Minneapolis and grew up in Washington, DC and Northern Virginia. My father, Roland Flint, was a poet and professor of English at Georgetown University and my mother, Janet Altic Flint, was a curator of American prints and drawings at the Smithsonian Institution. So I grew up in a writerly, artsy household in the Glover Park neighborhood in DC. My first love was basketball—I shot hoops every day in the alley behind our rowhouse with the neighborhood kids, and at Stoddert Elementary—where I was the only girl on an otherwise all-boys team. As a shooting guard in sixth grade, I belonged to two teams: the Jelleff Boys and Girls Club and Holy Trinity school. When it so happened that the two teams were set to meet, I played one half for each team, swapping out uniforms at half-time. After my brother Ethan's death in 1972, my parents split and my mother, sister and I moved to Arlington, Virginia, where I continued to play basketball and added psychology and eventually poetry and photography to my interests. At 17, I recognized that I was suffering from severe depression, and so took up the arduous work of healing and self-inquiry in the presence of a heaven-sent therapist. At 41, I had a spiritual awakening that came like a left hook and set me on an entirely unexpected course, including two years living homeless—a time I count as among the richest of my life. I have a B.A. in English from Georgetown University, an M.F.A. in poetry from the University of Virginia, and an M.S. in Rhetoric & Technical Communication from the University of Minnesota.
Contact
The best way to reach me is by phone: 520-239-6100.
A Tip On Negative Ion Generators
If you suspect you have dark or low-vibrational entities coming into your home, you might consider getting a negative ion generator. Dark entities seem to leave a trail of positive ions wherever they go. If these positive ions build up over time, they can make you feel sick. Headaches, stomach problems, nausea, dizziness, muscle weakness, foggy thinking, over-emotionality, irritability, depression, lethargy are all symptoms I've experienced as a result of the buildup of positive ions in my space. During one period of my life, a light, airy apartment with great energy would become, in as little as three months, unlivable—solely because of the energy left behind by dark entities I could actually see moving around my space at night.
The first ion generator I bought was a big metal box—a commercial grade unit I happened upon in an electronics store and "just knew" I should buy. I kept it next to my bed. It was quiet and seemed to work well, as I was able to live in the same apartment for close to a year without experiencing any of the symptoms that would so regularly appear before in each place I lived, and that would eventually force me out. As a sidenote, a room with a buildup of positive ions will take on a kind of "dead" or "still" feeling. Another clue indicating a potential problem would be that you find yourself feeling considerably better whenever you leave the house.
I've tried a couple of other brands since then—smaller plastic units that are less expensive and just as powerful, I think. The only drawback on those is that they can leave a dusty debris on the floor or wall, especially if placed near any metal. One of these is made by Wein (see photo). I'm not sure of the other brand. It was made by a smaller company, and I don't have it with me at the moment. I bought two of those and continue to use them, though not as regularly—one for the living room and one for the bedroom. If you have to choose one space only, I would recommend running it in the bedroom as dark entities are, in my experience, more active at night and will go to wherever you are.
From The Archives ...
The River of Fear and the River of Love
March 28, 2009
Last Easter I sat for a while in my meditation room—a small white room with sunlight streaming in and empty except for my chair. I closed my eyes and went into silence. As I did, an interior vision of the day Jesus was crucified was shown to me. Two scenes:
The first was of a man stepping forward from the crowd to help Jesus carry the cross after he’d fallen under its weight.
The second was after Jesus had died. The scene was of a landscape empty after the crowds had dispersed. All that was left were a few people, and they were silently taking Jesus’ body down from the cross and into the arms of his mother. It was clear no one knew for sure who Jesus was. There was nothing to indicate that this was a turning point in human history. It was simply the aftermath of an all-too-common scene. A bloodthirsty crowd moved on to other entertainment, a family left in private grief.
What I was given to understand is that there are two invisible forces—like parallel rivers—that have run through humanity’s existence, and which are either fed and strengthened, or starved and weakened, by the actions of each person. Fear, of course, finds expression in all kinds of actions based in anger, hatred, envy, etc. And there is love.
The river of fear, having been fed by the cumulative actions of humanity through time, had brought us to this day of the execution of Love itself. On that day, the river of fear won out. The man stepping out from the crowd to help carry the cross was a small ripple of love within the greater force that carried the events of the day to their conclusion.
Given the atrocities of which humanity is capable, it would seem that small acts of disrespect against one another are negligible. They are not, though. They add to the invisible flow of fear, support it and ensure that it continues and thrives. Any act of harm, however small, says in effect: I vote for the continuation of this energy in all of our lives. I vote that it should triumph over love, regardless of whether it takes away a loved one from me or from you.
Harm is almost treated as something which, once received, must be either returned to its sender, or passed along to another. That to let it come to rest with us is a sign of weakness. It is, as we know, often passed within a family from generation to generation. Long-standing feuds between nations or tribes are like mantles that are passed along to each succeeding generation to be carried forward in the name of patriotism and loyalty. It is as if passing along harm is seen as the only way to find balance, to regain dignity, to heal.
The truth is that there is no shame in being on the receiving end of someone else’s fearful or hurtful actions, and no permanent harm sustained. That is the contradiction of doing intentional harm—you leave the object of your hurt essentially untouched at the soul level—and yet leave within your own soul a wound in need of healing.
Another contradiction is that while we in the 21st century are still ruled by an attitude of might is right, still esteem those who wield power via threat, all cultures hold with reverence and gratitude those who have stood for peace and love in the face of fear—Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Jesus and others.
Each of us must begin to understand that an intact soul really and truly is one’s most precious possession, and must be guarded and protected. And in the face of intentional hurt, each of us must find the strength to say, in effect—the buck stops here. No matter what comes my way, I will not pass this along.
For more, check out Past Writing.
Note: Excerpts from the essay above may have appeared elsewhere without my consent. If you have any information, please contact me. Thanks!