New Year - New Time - 2012

  Today I will breathe in the full and vibrant energy of the universe. It's all mine! I can feel it's movement like the currents of the ocean, like the tides of my life. I can drift on its flow or bask in its light.

  But today, the last day of 2011, I will hold my breath for a moment in awe, and then I will let it out and in so doing, release all of the disappointments of the passing year. Whether there were many or only a few, I will look at them for one last time - thank them for the turning points they represented in my life, the learning opportunities - and then I'll throw them out! They are done.

I will turn instead to the joys of 2011 - and there were many. I will be thankful for all of them. The new publisher for my book has to be right up there. But the love of family and friends crowns the heap. Great tra vels come next - visits with old friends, reconnections with old school friends, old sweethearts, new friends and new experiences. Good health, wealth - enough of it anyway - and excitement. Always excitement.
There is so much to be thankful for.

And On To the New Year! 2012.

Tomorrow, I'll breathe in the the full and vibrant energy of the universe, emmerse myself in it's excitement, its youth, - feel it's power coursing through my veins as I'll stand in awe of its magnificance. In it's energy I will hear the sounds of new life, new thoughts and new ideas being born into the aura of my world, colouring the essence of my life. I'll breathe in and bask in the warmth, joy and hope infused in everything around me.

I'll take those great idea and dreams I've been nurturing and give them wings. I'll watch them climb - lifted higher and higer on the currents of the new year.

I'll let go and breathe out all fear of the unknown, knowing that the unknown is nothing but a vast field of new opportunities to relish and anticipate. New dreams, new hopes, new loves. New life.

So, fellow travellers, breathe with me. Breathe in the excitement at the start of a new journey forward into the rest of our lives. We won't question its destination. It is always the right destination at the right time. Instead, we'll trust that the road we're on will take us to the place we're supposed to be in. And that we'll arrive right on time. 

What will we find there? Who will be waiting? What's been waiting for us...

Imagine.

I wish you a Happy New Year. I hope that this time of your life will be filled love and that you will share it with me and everyone you meet along the way.

Beware of Unreliable, Good Samaritans

That would be me.

Here's what happened (and this is also on the of the reasons you haven't seen any new blog posts recently.)

 My friend Cindy sprained her ankle/broke her foot about a year ago. She had it fixed, heard the instructions about "Staying off it," "Taking easy - let it heal" and all that - and may have tried to follow some of them. Not easy for someone like Cindy who does NOTHING with either her mind or her body under 90 miles an hour. So, predictably when ski season came along two months later, she did her darndest to ram her foot into a ski boot convinced it had healed enough to ski on. Well it hadn't. Which fact she discovered while trying to extract that piece of her anatomy from the boot. Not so good. In fact it was so bad that Cindy found herself going under the knife in a Highly Specialized Foot Reconstruction Place in Vail Colorado.

Her husband stayed with her for one week of the two week recovery process. It was clear she needed help so her powers of persuasion were lined up, put into high gear and and fired in my direction. Would I come and spend a week in the mountains and help her out?

Sure. Why not? Just off a trip to Ohio, followed by a trip Kansas and an upcoming trip to San Francisco, I could think of a pleanty of reasons Why Not. But my heart tries to be mostly in the right place, my intentions are mostly good and my friend was held captive in an armchair with her foot in an oversize black boot with instructions to put NO weight on it for six weeks. So off I went in full sanctimonius Good Samaritan mode
to nurse her back to mobility. But mainly to keep her nailed down.
Everything went well for a while. A little jet-lagged, snuffly and dragging, we attended follow-up appointments, visited bookstores, visited Drew's old friends at his old hotel and went to Physical Therapy sessions. All such forays were accompanied by The Boot, Cindy's bicycle, her shopping bag and crutches. Oh yes - and her Dollar Store scarlet botox lips that went along to entertain bystanders and anesthesiologists. (Not the easiest people to entertain.) I threatened to buy her a tee-shirt that said "Biker Babe " accross the chest.

Then everything went nuts. I threw a wobbly. Woke up one morning trying to heave my insides out, my head ached, my eyes felt like sandpaper, my mouth like a desert and all available blood appeared to have drained overnight. "You look like a ghost!" My friend announced. I looked in the mirror and nearly fainted. No one that white could survive. Clearly, ghost-hood was just around the next corner. Shortness of breath (that dire forerunner of catastrophy due to lack of air) had moved in and we made a beeline for the Emergency Room. Me charging ahead on a rush of adrenalin brought about by near-death, Cindy pedalling furiously behind on one foot and the taxi driver motoring in behind hauling crutches, spare boot and yelling "God Speed " or something ominous that scared the rest of the blood out of me. Tha last thing I needed right now was for the Creator to step on my gas pedal and have me speeding down that oneway street to eternity.
                                                                           ***
It all worked out in the end. It appeared that Vale's 10,000 ft high altitude, mild dehydration complicated by the common cold had been trying to reap my soul but medical science stepped in and thwarted the attempt. (You'll have to wait a littlle longer for me Sweet Drew) I have a Thanksgiving trip to make and another bawdy high school reunion to go to in May. I can't leave now, for Pete's sake.

And I didn't. Pumped up with Oxygen, bloated by gallons of Gatorade, everything moving in blimp-like motion, a friend packed me into the back of her car, Cindy wedged herself into the front with the boot and the bike and the crutches ... I don't know where the biket and the crutches and the back up supplies of Gatorade went.... but somehow we all turned up in back in the condo and lived happily ever after. :)

Happy, Happy Thanksgiving everyone. Here's to life, feet that work, Gatorade, 0xygen and Botox lips! And friendship. Freindship above all.

Your Stories

Thank you all so much for sharing your own stories about those moments before dying. I love hearing them.
  It's so important that we know that dying is nothing to be frightened of.

What Did He See?

Last night I saw a televison piece about the last moments of Steve Jobs life. A brilliant inventor, businessman and entrepreneur. Did you see it?

His family was gathered in his room, around his bed. He knew he was dying, in fact it was reported that with only minutes to live he had already said his goodbyes. Moments before his death the family noticed that he was staring at something beyond and behind them. Then his face suddenly lit up and he was heard to say, "Wow ... " then, "Oh Wow! ... Oh Wow!" And he died.

No one else saw anything. What did Steve see? I don't know. Did he see someone he knew? Someone who had already passed over? Was he given a glimpse of the other side at the moment of physical death? Or was he already there - moments before he left?

It's a common story. One that you will hear time and again from hospice workers and other people, family, friends, doctors, who are in the presense death. The dying person will sometimes make motions, call out names, recognition will light his face or he - or she - may reach out to someone no one else can see.

I can only imagine what Steve Jobs' Heaven looks like! With that giant mind and massive imagination he surely took with him, I can only imagine that if it took his breath away it was wonderful beyond words. Oh wow.

He will not be resting peacefully for very long. Just long enough to catch his breath, I should think. So all I can say to him is HAVE FUN!

Asking For Signs

I do it all the time. It goes like this:

I'm sure I interpreted this dream right, I know what I saw, I know what I heard - but just in case I didn't - will you show me a sign? 

The question is posed to my panel of spirit friends and family and that huge mass of Universal Intelligence  out there. And I always get a sign in reply. It will be the one I asked for, or one that is so individual I can't miss it. Sometimes signs come unasked for. A puff of cigarette smoke, a whiff of my mother's perfume - so out of date you probably can't find it anynmore ... all of them say, "I'm here. I haven't gone anywhere. I've just changed."

Walt, my late husband sends feathers. Drew sends doves and a friend of mine who has lost a daughter finds heart-shaped rocks everywhere she goes.

Yesterday, I spent the day writing (composing) the second book. It's theme is re-incarnation. Did I tell you that? And as I was writing, a phrase occurred to me. "Goodbyes are never what they seem." I wrote it down.

Walking down to the water in the late afternoon, I thought about that phrase again and as I did I noticed two soft breast feathers fluttering on the ground. The ones that grow close to the heart. They were grey with round black spots on them - so pretty. I picked them up and as I did so I smiled and thanked Walt, Drew and the Turtle Dove who dropped them. Then turning to walk away, on the edge of the lake, I noticed a long forgotton rose bush choked by tall grasses, with a single red rose bud. In late October. What do you think?

It's true - good byes are never what they seem.


  

Animal Souls

Have you ever wondered if animals have souls? Are they like ours or are they modified to suit them? I believe they have - whether they're like ours or not, I don't know.
What I do know is that there's a living spirit in Miss Kitty. Miss Kitty, for those of you who missed it, is a half-wild, alternately loving and Alpha-bitchy-fierce Maine Coon who came to live with me about seven years ago. Catitude! I love that word. This little spirit is hyper-energized by Catitude - just ask the three brown dogs that live next door to me. And wish they didn't ...  Because of certain altercations with my cat they keep their eyes on the ground at all times and tiptoe very quietly along the edge of my property. Of course, they are completely lacking in cat-like stealth so this manoever of theirs is not always successful.  Miss Kitty is an inside-outside Feline who guards her borders ferociously, takes the high ground in any situation and holds it. This means that anytime Brown Dogs venture too close to her realm, (she's heard them coming from miles away but they haven't figured that out yet) she's perched (A.)high on my deck rail overlooking whichever direction they're coming from or (B) at the top of the lakeside stairs, curled around the pillar in an attempt to blend in with the wood. Which is unnecessary because the three stooges have their eyes on the ground anyway. And because of this not-so-smart habit of being unaware of their surroundings, I will suddenly hear a volley of scalding yelps,cries and agonized screams and note that Miss Kitty is on the high steps in full Halloween Cat pose, licking her whiskers and squinting down the road at their painful retreat.
Yes, there's a soul inside that furry body. A most spirited soul.
You've seen that soul in your pets too, I know. What I wonder, is did anyone think of the souls of 18 Bengal Tigers that were shot and killed in Ohio yesterday - and God knows how many other hapless animals. What do you think. It's not that I'm Pollyanna-ish about this - I fully understand the devastation 18 tigers are capable of in a populated area. But wasn't there a better way? What in the world were those animals doing in Ohio in the first place? Where are the laws? Where are the people-souls that see fit to remove exotic animals from India and Africa?   
Someone said to me not long ago - "Well! I know for damn sure I ain't decended from no monkey!" Really?
I can think of a lot worse things to be descended from. But that's beside the point.
I wanted to say, "Have you ever looked into the eyes of an Orangutan? " I doubt that he has. If he had, he would have seen the gentlest soul on earth. How wonderful to be descended from a soul that pure.
My old lab Ranger had that sort of soul. I would have loved to have inherited his sweet temperament but I wouldn't have liked to have had a tail and four legs. So I damn sure like the idea of being decended from one of the Great Apes.
Cherish all life, as I know you do.

Brand New Day

Even if you arn't a racing fan, you couldn't miss the event that killed a 33 year old driver on Sunday afternoon. And you couldn't help wondering about those he left behind even though you didn't know them, had never even heard of them. Human suffering has a vibration all its own. It reaches all of us. Like a stone thrown into a pond, its ripples spread across the world, eventually touching the lives of people who had never expected it to, leaving a trace of melancholy to shade our day.

Miss Kitty hasn't heard about the accident, or if she has, it doesn't bother her. That's the way cats are. She woke up this morning, stretched, jumped off the end of my bed and after her handful of morning cookies, she slithered outside through her cat door.

No matter what happens, the new day has arrived. It dawned as surely as it ever has, the first flush of dawn coloring the hilltops in the distance, lighting the darkness slowly but surely. Miss Kitty can smell it. She'll wander her normal route, across the deck, down the steps, pausing to sniff a new pile of leaves that fell from the maple overnight. She'll sniff the cool damp morning for traces of a mole that may have raised his pink nose, speckled with black dirt. She'll reach out and tap at an earthworm that squiggled too far from its earthy home and then she'll continue up the brick walkway, a red carpet under her paws, through the flowerbeds to greet the last buds of summer. Everything is as it should be. Everything is the same.

But for those who are grieving, everything has changed. The new day is choked by the violent events of yesterday and no light can break through the mass of the crushed debris of broken lives.No dawn can soften the memory of the sound of  screeching metal, scarlet flames and the torn asphalt of the track.
In time, a new day will finally dawn, soft and pink and gently light a better day. It's inevitable. But it's arrival is ruled from an invisible realm - it is in the hands of some intagible timekeeper.Whoever that may be.

I hope your day is is a good one. I hope you take time to smell the last buds of summer, and savour that cup of coffee as if it were your last.  

What a Coincidence

Before I tell you about the "coincidence", I want to tell you that The Book is slated for release in June. I can't wait for you to read it. It's so much FUN! I know that sounds weird given it's subject matter - but it is.
The publishers have re-named it. It is now called "By Morning's Light". It took me a while to let go of "Show Me Heaven, Drew" (this is like sending your baby to school for the first time - got to lose some control, got to let go. Ouch.) but now I like it.

So, yesterday was my birthday. Numerologically it worked out like this: (the date 10-10-11) 1+0+1+0+2+0+1+1  =  6. A good number made up of 3s which are full of love. So much love poured in birthday messages. I turned 66. Double good. add those together you get 18 (1+8)  = 9 ... The number of all wishes coming true! What a wonderful day.

All the kids and grandkids called or emailed/texted/facebooked, and friends from all over the world got in touch. It was a great day but towards the end of it, reality set in, I climbed off my blue-bird-of-happiness perch a bit and remembered that Drew wasn't here. There'd be no call from Drew today.

Or would there ... 

In the book I talk about signs from Drew that he's still around. Not long before he passed he sent me the trilogy of "Pirates of the Carribean" to watch and keep. I wasn't really big on pirates to tell you the truth, but I am now because Drew seems to choose this pirate theme to send signs.

So, last night as I was 'going down', I switched on TV and was watching "Dancing with the Stars" (Did you watch it?) and as I half-watched, I realized that one of the pairs was dressed up as pirates and waltzing to "The Black Pearl" (name of the pirate ship) from "Pirates of the Caribbean." Hmmm.  Pirates, a parrot - my favorite dance - Drew's movies -and at the end of the dance, the male dancer stepped forward with a  "Happy Birthday ..." message. Loud and clear.

I don't believe in coincidence.

Thank you Sweet Drew.

Adjust Your Sails and Keep Moving!

All through our lives we find ourselves dealing with change. Seasons change, the weather changes, people change, we get old (let me tell you, this getting older nonsense is a real pain specially when you wake up one morning and lo and behold you discover you can't see a darn thing because "poor eyesight" has moved in overnight) friendships change, feelings change and the list goes on. Some changes may even be life-changing. Things happen and sometimes we can control them and sometimes we can't. Change happens. And it's true that if you can rely on nothing else in this world you can count on nothing staying the same. Have you noticed?
I think this is the way that life moves forward, grows and expands and it's not always easy to climb aboard and go with the pain-in-the-patootie flow. Growing pains are tough. Sometimes they're painful, sometimes even excruciating and some of them can be incomprehensible. But there are also some that are unbelievably exciting and fun. One thing's for sure, they are all a little scary because there's always that element of the unknown to deal with. 
The element of the unknown can be another pain in the neck. I happen to like things I am familiar with. I'm comfortable with things I know - comfortable with things that are predictable and therefore easy to deal with. "But you're not growing sitting around in that Lazy Person chair of yours" I hear. Do I have to? Well, I think you have a choice and given the choice of sitting around and slowly atrophying could be life-changing in it's own way. Predictable though. I'm not sure I want to dwell on that sort of predictability.
 I'm too curious to know what else is out there and I've decided that if I sit around using up a lot of energy protesting the changes that sneak up on me, I'll never know. So I'm thinking Let's Go. Let's find out where this road leads to. This particular stretch may be bumpy, lined with thorny bushes and strewn with rocks but What's Around the Next Bend? It might just be wonderful.  
So I'll try hard to welcome change, trusting the thought that someone up there has a plan for me. (It better be a good one.) I'll hope that it is, even though there's an elment of the unknown in that too. But I'll walk towards it in anticipation. 
When the winds change, I'll adjust my sails, heel out, skate along the edge of that wind feeling its touch and the sound of its voice leading me forward. Here's to this crazy life and to where ever we're all going. I hope it's leading us to something wonderful. To something, somewhere above and beyond all our dreams. 
Happy Trails!

No Place to Hide

When justice fails, as it may have done last night in Georgia when that state executed Troy Davis, then where can we hide? We are all vulnerable, not just the mad dogs among us but everyone of us can fall victim to imprecise and therefore fallible justice. 

I don't claim to know all the facts of the case. We don't know for sure that Troy Davis did not shoot a policeman in Georgia - but when seven out of nine accusers/witnesses recant their testimony to the effect that he did, we have to wonder. When seven out of nine people say they misspoke when they said Troy Davis killed a policeman, the criteria of "beyond reasonable doubt" is nullified and then surely, the death penalty must be thrown out. But that didn't happen.

The State Board of Pardons and Paroles that is supposed to act as the safety net in these instances, withdrew that net and ordered the killing of a man without knowing whether he was innocent or guilty.

It is my opinion that in a world peopled by human beings who by our very nature are inconsistent, impressionable, fallible and sometimes just plain wrong, there should be no such thing as a death penalty in our justice system. People and Justice system they control are just too inexact, too tainted by prejudice, too arbitrary to be trusted with the barbaric task of deciding who lives and who dies.

This country must hang its head today. And give vengeance back to God, where it belongs.

To All The Girls I've Loved Before! Going Back ...

     Sometimes you CAN go back. A group of us went back thirty-eight and forty-eight years last weekend when we met at Marymount in Tarrytown NY for a reunion of old girls and older sisters.

     You would never have known that some of us were grandparents, others dealing with the nuisances of old age and life's glitches, because all of us brought our spirits along and they are all 'the perfect age'. All I know is that I felt about 22 and so did a lot of the others. We talked, we ate, we drank plenty of wine and sang the old school song - and cried - while a few brave husbands and partners (who hadn't been at our all-girls school) looked on at first, and then joined in with gusto.

     The girls came from as far away as Australia and South Africa, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Holland, England,Canada and the USA. (That would be me and a couple of others.) We brought with us scant luggage but plenty of life experiences, some sad, some tragic, some weird and wonderful. We threw this stuff out on the table and shared it all, ate more potato chips, drank more wine, laughed somemore and - cried. Just as we used to. What FUN!

     Funny how the all the things we remembered from all those years ago that were so tragic (e.g. dumped by the pimply love of your life) or so over-the-top wonderful, happy and glamorous (the summer balls, the winter balls, the end of term, rugby matches at the boys school...) pale in the light of age, maturity, a ton of life gone under the bridge along with a few husbands, the birth of babies and grandchildren. These were our yesterdays and something of today.

     Then we found something new - all these years later when some of us are fifty years young, some of us are impressively eighty plus - all of us are still young in spirit, still vibrant, witty and gorgeous. We found new life, new energy, a ton of love and shared experience in a group of bright, beautiful, life-tested women who will never let time - or us - forget them.

Thank you all for marking one of the milestones of my life!

Living and Breathing and Changing.

It's not bad being alive in August. Summer is in full bloom, the colors on this planet earth are phenominal. Bright green leaves, blue skies and bright white clouds. But nothing is static. Everything changes all the time. A storm moves in and the clouds go from bright white to deep purples and grays. Mist rolls over a meadow and mutes the bright orange of summer daisies, the scarlet poppies and the golden spears of dry grass. Wind ruffles the ocean and crests its blue and green depths with white foam.
Nothing stays the same. Ever. The sun sparkles and lights the world in summer. The winter snow glistens and hushes the rush of of life.
The earth is in constant motion. How can anyone doubt that we live on a living, breathing planet?  One that feeds us, warms us, cools us and shelters us. Some call her Mother Earth. When you're hurting you can feel the upheaval in her breast. When you're happy, feel the bounce in your every step, the warmth of her sun and the music of the wind, the trees and the birds that share our home place.
It's a beautiful world. We share this wonderful heavenly body with all peoples, all creatures - all souls. The Blue Planet, Gaia the ancients called her. Planet earth is ours.
Love her back.

Beach Cruising

It's hot in the sun, the beach is bouncing with children, colored balls and seagulls scurring along the shore.  Red umbrellas flutter in the north easterly breeze that keeps things cool and broad-brimmed sun hats flapping.
I feel life renewing itself all around me.
We've all stepped into another world closing the door on city streets and honking cabs, market reports and grouchy co-workers. There are no lawns to be mowed here, no trash to haul and appointments can wait until next week. Worries and sadness can be buried in the sand or run off down the beach or tossed out to sea for an hour or two.
All I have to do today is lean back in the sunshine, listen to the ocean and breathe. This may be a small piece of Heaven that's drifted to earth. I'm glad it landed where I am.
Out of half closed eyes I see children chasing a gull they'll never catch, and team of young men, their hair glossy with sea water, young bodies muscled and tanned, moving in step down the beach, approaching a team of bikinied lovlies, walking in step towards them. They toss their heads in feigned nonchalance - like the wild ponies that run on the beaches further north of here.
They meet and slowly pass each other.The girls giggle, the young men stare at the sand, clear their throats, trying not to grin. Except for one who separates from the team, walks backwards and yells, "Ohhh baby!"
Courage deserts in the sound of their delighted laughter and the boys canter off down the beach.
Cruising the beach. Life renewing itself. Warm, happy and young.

Bird Watcher

     Miss Kitty is under house arrest. I'm sorry to have to resort to this but the mourning doves have fledglings that are leaving the nest for the first time and the cat can't wait! I have caught her  - twice - crouched below the nest smacking her lips - and chattering her teeth.
     She's an inside/outside cat, with claws and all her instincts in tact. She is afraid of nothing including the three large and rather stupid but aimiable brown labs that live next door.Three dogs. Miss Kitty would never put up with that in this house and in that, she and I are in agreement. So we spend more time than we like seeing them off. They bark at me when I race out like an outer mongolian waving and yelling and smacking the deck rails - and insolently lift their legs on my roses, but when the cat appears they run like the devil's unchained. It's because they've all been on the receiving end of those claws. She used to have to chase them but now all she has to do is stand on the top step, puff up into that hallow'een cat thing and it freaks them out. Totally.
    But she may not scare the birds. And we both know that scaring birds is the least of her bad intentions. She wants to eat them. And that is why she is incarcerated for the next week. Not easy for a fietsy little she-cat.
Until next time.

Show Me a Sign

Cindy my friend from Raleigh came to visit. She zoomed in for the night and zoomed out the next day. While she was here she was practicing her psychic skills (Calls herself Psychic Two) but we spent most of the night laughing. As we usually do. She's been the light at the end of  a few very dark tunnels for me these last few years and during a time when I could barely smile, she could make me laugh out loud.
During this dark time in my life I was looking for signs from Drew - signs to show that he could hear me, that could see me. I desperately wanted to know that he was there - somewhere. And the signs were coming in from the ethers fast and furiously.
Cindy got miffed. "Where are my signs?" she demanded. So I explained that she had to ask for them. "Like what? What do I ask for?" 
Signs! I said. You know, a blue bird feather, a rainbow, a yellow rose in winter - don't make it too easy. "Anyone can produce flowers and rainbows," she snorted. "I want him to show me Zebras." She laughed her head off at her wit and the idea that she was going to outwit that canny world of spirit, and zoomed off down the road to Raleigh. I thought that the road to Raleigh was an unlikely place to find Zebras - but you never know.
And then she called me. "You are not going to believe this, Psychic One."
Try me, I said.
"There, right in front of my e4yes, was this giant U-Haul truck - its sides covered in painted Zebras!"
You just never know :)

Angels?

     Do you believe in Angels? Every major religion does in one way or another. Angels who annouce events, angels who warn of danger, angels who jump into harms way to save you from certain anihilation... Those sort of angels. Well, I've read all the same stories you have but I've never seen one. At least not that I know of.  But I do have a story of my own that I wonder about.
      It's about a fall I took when my oldest son was an infant.
     Walt, my late husband was finishing up at the University of Arkansas, and I had spent the morning cleaning the apartment while my newborn slept and Karen our three year old, went over to the neighbors to play.
     The tile floors were the last places to be cleaned and I finished up with a flourish of suds and disinfectant that the smears of jam and the black heel skids and stuck on batter (from a batch of cookies) couldn't survive. And as if on cue, as I stashed the mop and emptied the bucket, my baby began to wail from the bedroom. Lunch time.
     We went through the cooing and gurgling and changing wet diaper routine and when he was patted and  powdered and totally rehabiltated I carried him into the kitchen to get whatever it was I had to get to get the feeding going.
     And stepped onto a slippery kitchen tile. My legs went out from under me and with my baby held in one arm, I flailed and hit the floor - resoundingly - with the tip of the elbow that was supporting his head. I lay there petrified. I felt no pain. Anywhere. My elbow should have been shattered. I turned my face and Michael blinked at me and began to wave his fists. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. His head should have been badly shaken up at the very least. No sign of that.
     I climber gingerly to my feet waiting for all hell to break loose from broken arms and hips - nothing. Not even a twitch of pain.
     When I was on my feet I lay the baby on the couch and took stock of him and then of myself. He was perfect. And where there should have been a mushed elbow, blood, bruising and broken bones, there was nothing. Not even any reddening.
     For years following that incident I wracked my brains and couldn't for the life of me remember hitting the floor. I do remember falling and landing. It was a soft landing and I never felt my elbow hit the tile.
    Did I hit my head and black out? There was no mark on my head anywhere. No blood, no bump no headache. No crossed-eyes! Was I caught by an angel? I have no idea.
     If you have any similar stories, please let me hear from you. I'd love to include them on a website I'm thinking about putting together.
     Take care - walk with angels.
   
        

Person of Interest

I was watching the Blue Bird house yesterday from my kitchen window. And as I watched, I saw the mother bird making passes at the house, carrying a worm in her beak. I thought, that's strange - why doesn't she stop and feed them? (I peaked, and there are five of them!)

Fearing the worst, I went out to make sure there wasn't a snake trying to climb up to the nest. Something was going on to cause her to shy away everytime she flew over. I do not like snakes. So I armed myself with a rake and a machete and headed up the walkway. Creeping on tiptoe, I approached without making a sound. If it was a snake I was ready to turn tail and run. I knew that. But at least if I took one swipe it might scare it away. What if it wrapped itself around the rake handle ... these are the things nightmares are made of. I'd probably die.

I was almost there. I approached with extreme caution, scanning the flower bed for the predator. The baby birds were squawking and carrying on, drowning out all other sound. No snake.

But there, camped out on a flattened daylily, under a patch of daisies with a spider web hanging off her ear, was Miss Kitty. No wonder the birds were freaking out. She looks like a miniature lion. She made that soft little chatter-mew that her breed the Maine Coons, are famous for as I stood there with my hands on my hips glaring at her, sending her some very sharp vibrations, making her blink. And then I scooped her up.

"You may not have a blue bird, Missy! Absolutely NOT!" A grunt and a swish of her tail followed by deep, half-growl-half  "put me down," whine as I took her into the house and proceeded to sit her down for a chat.

I think I told you, she's half-wild, so all her cat instincts are in tact. This kitty just showed up one day about seven years ago and took up residence in our house and I love her to death and she loves her cat-cookies. But Blue birds are NOT on the menu.

 

Summertime

I'm loving this summer.
I don't know what's going on with the weather but it almost reminds me of the tropics. It seems to rain every afternoon for about an hour and sometimes during the night and then the next morning it's brilliantly clear and sunny. The flowere are thriving along the pathway and the lake is full.
What a beautiful planet we live on.
Sometimes while I'm soaking in its beauty, swimming in the lake, loving the temps in the '80's and walking on fresh green grass, a cloud crosses the sun and darkens the world momentarily. I think of how much Drew is missing. He'll never walk in the grass with me again. He'll never wake up to one of these gorgeous summer days, ready to spring onto his jet ski and dart accross the lake to meet his friends, grab a wakeboard or hike up into the mountains. The feeling's almost overwhelming.
But then I remember a dream his brother told me about. "We were all at the lake - you, me, Dad and Drew. The lake was glistening, blue and clearer and more beautiful than it's ever been. Dad was riding a BMW lawn mower! Do they mke those?? When suddenly, Drew came tearing across a bridge on the biggest, shiniest motor cycle you've ever seen. And drove it right off the bridge and into the lake!. The weird thing was, No one got excited! No one was upset. Nobody yelled! Everyone was calm, as just as suddenly, Drew was standing on the bridge with his cycle dripping wet, a big goofy grin on his face saying, "Look - not a scratch!" And he was right.
The thing that struck me the most was the peace. The place was beautiful, there was love all around us." 
So Drew is here. He can see us and hear us. And wherever he is, it seems to be just like his home on earth. Only much, much more beautiful, peaceful and fun. Such toys! And it's full of love. I love that.

There are Blue birds nesting outside the kitchen window. They too are full of love for those tiny demanding creatures in their nest.

And the sun is shining again.

I'll be writing more from now on. I've been busy meeting deadlines for the book. So exciting! 

To the Fathers in Our Livesl

It's Father's Day. I hope you know that none of us would  be here without you!

My children have been without their father for six years now, my own father has been gone for nearly 25 years. On days like this one we can cherish their memories, but we miss them terribly. Still. I know that there are some of you out there who have lost a father too and that you too are missing them today. Losses come in many ways. Through death, through family breakups, through difficult illnesses like altzheimers. They all leave a big hole in our lives.

So to all of the fathers in my life and in yours I would like to say, Never forget how valuable you are. Know your worth. There is a little boy or girl in your life who thinks you hung the moon. Feel your heart swell, love that, and do your very best to live up to that dream. Even on the days when you know you may have fallen short, when that darn moon just keeps slipping and won't hang straight, remember, there are no bad father's in their eyes. Children are the most forgiving of all of us and you still shine for them.

Cherish your daughters. Allow them to enter young womanhood with all the confidence in themselves you can give them. Make sure they always know how valuable they are in your eyes and that no one they meet along the way can ever diminish that. My father did that. He had two girls.We were his princesses even when we fell far short of expectations. Our tiaras slipped many times, a diamond or two got lost in the dirt of real life, but he was always there to dust off the gold and restore our faith in ourselvers. He made sure we always knew our worth.

Hug your sons. They need the hugs as much as you do, as much as all the women in your life need them. Love them honestly and with understanding. Allow them to enter manhood as confident, strong and loving men, able to extend the love you've shown them, to their own children.

And don't sweat the small stuff. They haven't made a perfect dad yet - or a perfect mom. So none of us has given birth to perfect children, alas. And children know that. Give them all the love that you have and in the end, that's all there is.

Happy Father's Day!   

What's Going On ...

   And then there's this other thing. 
   You're standing on a neatly kept grassy knoll. The sun is out, it's warm with a cool breeze that flips your collar up and carries the faintest smell of roses. In front of you is a gate - about four feet high. The paint is flaking and the latch shows some leak-through rust stains. At first glance you see nothing beyond the gate but unmowed grass, some tangled shrubery and wild honey suckle clinging to an old apple tree. 
   And then you realize that if you walk through that gate you'll see a vineyard to your right. The rows are neat and combed. The vines are sturdy and green and clusters of green-to-purple grapes bubble up among the leaves. To your left there is an apple orchard. Not a big one - maybe thirty trees or so. Their rough branches have leafed out and the beginnings of tiny round apples can be seen through the thick mass of green.
  There is a cobbled-stone path stretching ahead of you and you know without thinking about it that it leads to a small shed. Behind the shed there is a stream. You can't hear it but you know it's there.

   This is weird. You shake your head. The unkept, tangled mass of grasses and shrubbery stretches ahead. The gate is still closed. 
  
   Why am I imagining all this stuff? You wonder. Do I remember this place as it was along, long time ago? Impossible! I've never been here before ... I've never even been to Maine before. Did my parents bring me here as an infant? All these thoughts chase around your head and slam up against brick walls. You weren't  in this country as an infant and their first visit here came after you were married with two small children. Who were not inclined to be stuffed in a car and driven to Maine. And neither were you.

   Is this Deja Vu? No - it's not a flash of something, this is a 'viewing' of something you think you ought to remember. You know you've seen it before. You could walk through the gate... and see if you're right.

   Then someone's calling you back to the car - everyone's leaving. With one last look, you turn to leave. Puzzled, you walk away leaving the field behind - empty except for one lonely old apple tree that's smothered in honey-suckle now.

   What's going on ...

 
  

Anybody There?

   A strange thing happened to Sara a couple of months ago. She is a childhood friend of Drew's. They rode the school bus together everyday, they shared music and as they got older they would spend hours on the phone together sorting out their own separate dramas and sometimes, other peoples. They were soul buddies in every sense.
   On this particular day, she had spent nearly all day at my house helping me with the graphics for the book, Show Me Heaven, Drew. It's safe to say that my computer dislikes me. It throws roadblocks up every time I say, Okay  - we're going to do something new today. I think it's lazy but whatever, it is an anomaly to me. Anything outside of emails and now facebook and blogs,  is like learning a crazy Greek or Chinese puzzle. So Sara came to my aid and shifted and changed, deleted and added and made me a beautiful book to present to the publishers.
   We felt Drew with us all day long. Hovering over the computer, filling the silences with his presense and making us remember stories about him that made us laugh.
   Sara left the house at about five. At about six that evening, she texted me from her cell phone. 
   "OMG! My phone rang on the way home and when I picked it up it was a call from Drew's old number. No name. Was it him?"
   You know it was. Drew's phone was disconnected two and a half years ago and lies dormant in a drawer in his bedroom. No one but him could make that call.
   Hellooooo??
   Later!

The Light Plays Tricks

   Back from the West. I had to the leave the bay, the roses with blooms as big as saucers, hedges filled with white and yellow wild iris and roses and purple blooms I didn't recognize. And my growing, full-blooming family so full of life.      
   Here's to Life!
   Even the mist has its own sort of life. It wafts and rolls in from the sea in all the shades of greys and whites. It blankets Angel Island and the shores of Tiburon where I am. It rolls up the hill with the stealth of a thief, covering the grass, invading the tree tops and speckling moisture as it moves on up the hillside.
   Sitting on the verandah, watching the bay and its bridges, the ships and the sail boats, I thought of all the people who live there, all the aqua life, all the living breathing creatures that make this beautiful place their home.
 The Bay Bridge was shrouded in fog that day with only its peaks peeking through the cloud.    The sounds of ships horns rumbled through the mist, thier bow waves white and disappearing into the grey-white, wet air.
  Ships like phantoms, like ghosts of the present. Alive. 
  And as I sank into my world of spectres and yesterdays, Tuck let out a shriek, hurtled around the side of the house brandishing a bat three sizes too big for him. He's three and a half. A sturdy, boisterous rambunctious toddler with flaming red hair. My grandson. Alive and well. In his own world of baby thoughts and wonders. I look at his face sometimes and wonder what's churning behind those bright eyes. He's burst into this brand new world and he has things to do. I wonder what they are. What has he come here to do?  Will he change the world? Will he fight for what he believes in? Will he make people laugh, and will he fall in love one day...
So much to do. So much life ahead of him, so many days and nights to fill.
   But right now he's stopped in his tracks, his bat is forgotten as he squats beside a rock bed. He's watching a beetle.    
   Here's to Life, my friends.

I Am Bound for Calif-for- Ny - Ay!

   I'm goin' to California in the mornin'. Remember that old song?  Who sang it? Mama Cass or Peter, Paul and Mary? Or was it The Drifters...  I don't remember.
   Anyway, I'm off to San Francisco for a few days to seem my oldest son Michael and his family. I just got back from Richmond where I spent the Mother's Day weekend with Karen and her family - which is why you haven't seen me here for a few days.
   I am so lucky to have Karen and Randy, Michael and Mary Katherine and Brock, Courtney, Becca, James, Caroline and Tucker. And ....drum roll ..... Miss Kitty.
   No one can fill the place that is Drew's - and nor should they. They are all who they are - beautiful people who I love. Everyone of them unique in his or her own way. And everyone of us miss Drew at these gatherings - each in our own way. Son, brother, uncle. He's never far away.
   Sara and JD called me on Mother's Day - Drew's friends. How sweet is that :)
   So, California Here I come!
   See you when I get back.

Chosen to Be Somebody's Mother

That's an awesome thought. I was chosen to be somebody's mother... or father for that matter, but because it's Mother's Day tomorow, let's talk Moms.
Choosing to be born, choosing which family you want to be born into isn't just my idea. A lot of in-depth research has been done on the psychology front by people whose life purpose is to figure out the rest of us. (Good luck with that.) I'm talking about the psychologists among us. One in particular comes to mind. Helen Wambach, a psychologist who, working with clients under deep hypnosis, was able to explore the "before life" experiences of 750 people. Her research shows that the majority of her subjects both chose to be born and chose their fellow travelers in this life. Some were reluctant to come back, many had help from entities they called "guides" or strong and loving figures who reassured them. Many knew this wasn't going to be easy but felt the need to be here to fulfill some purpose or complete another.
I know from my own experience, that three of my grandchildren 'appeared' in my dreams before they were born - presumably letting us know they were coming into our family. Becca told me that my father who the children called "Papa" and who died years before she was born, encouraged her to choose Karen as her mother. I understand that fully. To be Karen's child, Becca would be given unconditional love and a lot of freedom to live her life her way. Karen is in no way dogmatic or bossy. She's warm, supportive and nurturing. Everything an Aries girl needs! And here's the kicker. I believe that it will be Becca who eventually, 'gives back' with all her innate strength and support, when Karen needs that strength and support in her own life. Give and take.
All of us were chosen too. Interesting perception. And interesting to look into your own lives to see how these choices are working in your life.
I am so honored to have been chosen by these spirits to help them through this life. And so lucky to have been taught by them, supported by them and loved by them.
Have a wonderful Mother's Day. And never forget who you are. A great spirit who has been chosen to be someone's mom.
Have Fun!

Why Are We Here?

     Hmmm. I wonder about that. Here's what I know. Because I've been able to meet new babies coming into this world before they get here, I know there's a plan of some sort.
   My own grand daughter at about the age of five chatted to me at length one afternoon about being able to choose her parents. She had a choice to make before she incarnated, she said, and that was whether to come into this family  - or that family.          
     I've heard that this earth place we live in is actually a place of learning. An earth school if you will. And that we when we decide to come here we do so in order to learn specific lessons. I wonder if they're new lessons or lessons whose test we failed the last time around so we have to repeat the course over and over until we get it... I don't know. 
   What I think is this. Once we choose or realize which lessons we have to learn, or which human traits or attributes we have to perfect - or get rid of - it becomes necessary to choose the right people to come in with. People who will either help or challenge us to do better. We may even choose to be here with a person who'll make it almost impossible for us to get it right. These are the hardest teachers.
     How do I believe in a God who snatches someone I love away from me? What is the lesson I'm supposed to learn here? I still don't know for sure. Could I have prevented this tragedy? Am I to blame in some way? Or am I supposed to learn that everyone has his or her own blueprint to follow and I am not the Master of the Universe here to direct everyone ... Perhaps something like this challenges our prejudices, makes us love a little stronger, listen a little harder or to show compassion instead of impatience with others who are suffering. And especialIy with ourselves.
   What about a husband or wife who deserts a marriage? The word "hate" takes on a whole new meaning to the one who's left behind. Especially if there is someone else involved. Am I supposed to go inward and see how I could have stopped this from happening? Or am I supposed to learn something about NOT blaming myself because someone else took another fork in the path we were both following for a while. And realize I'm not perfect and neither is anyone else. That hate is destructive - no matter how good it feels ...
   So maybe we're here simply to learn to love ourselves and others just a little bit more than we did before.
Think so? That "love" word carries a ton of other words, doesn't it... compassion, tolerance and patience just to name a few.
   Enough to give me a headache just thinking about it.
Anyway, cheers! And Good Luck!

Something Stirring Out There.

   You've probably heard that the southland of this country has been ripped up by tornados and straight line storms over the last few days.
   Over two hundred people have been killed, including 8 in my state, Virginia.
   I might have been one of them if something hadn't been stirring out there and nudged me to cancel a trip to Richmond the next day. It's only a 3 hour drive from my house, and I was going to see my daughter and her family. I was feeling uneasy about the trip - for no reason that I can think of - and on the morning before I was due to leave, I called Karen to firm up the visit and she said several things had come up. My grand daughhter Courtney wasn't going to be there, (I wanted to see her in her new prom dress) she and Randy had a wedding to go to on Saturday, and Brock's baseball game would be cancelled because of the storms. So we decided to postpone my trip.
   Good thing. A tornado raced down I-64 the next day - the route I take to get to their house.
   Maybe that explains the uneasiness about the trip. Whether the tornado and I would have actually met is anybody's guess. But .... Something was stirring out there.

Resurrection

   Easter. Resurrection. Are we talking Ghosts? Visions? Are we supposed to believe that a spirit is telling us he survived death? For over two thousand years millions of Christians have believed that Jesus Christ died, was buried and on the third day he rose from the dead. And a ton of people saw him. Millions - maybe billions believe this ghost story of the New Testament.
   Me too.
   The difference is that most of those people are willing to take the Bible's word for it. On faith.
   Not me. Neither my Christian upbringing nor my Roman Catholic schooling could convince me that there is life after death. Sometimes they tried and I would sit there and chuckle - like a brat - thinking, "Dream on..." Except for the times when they started hurling the stories of Satan and his bands of demons around - then, scared stiff, I'd make a beeline for the confessional and spill my guts, prostrating myself on the beliefs of the RC church, begging for forgiveness. The rest of the afternoon was usually spent trying to stay awake while I tried in vain to keep track of the rosary which had been doled out as my penance. Major turn off that. The longer I knelt there the more atheistic my thoughts got.
   But not for long. Who can look out on a spring morning with all it's brand new earthly life and not believe in God? Or hold a new baby - or a kitten...
   Not me. God - the Universe - whoever you are - is here. 
   And then when Drew died, I knew with absolutely certainty that his body may have died - he's gone - but he lives. I saw him five days after he died. Totally Drew. There is life after death, we can and do come back in spirit. There is no doubt. There is a resurrection of the body.
   Jesus tried to tell us.
   The book, Show Me Heaven Drew, in which I have documented that first year after Drew left us, is nearing publication and you will be the first to know when and where it can be found.
   I spent Saturday with Sara, Drew's childhood sweetheart, adding the finishing touches to the publication process. These youngsters know everything about computers. She's a whiz kid. I'm not.
   I hope you had a lovely Easter and ate a lot of chocolate. It perks all the endorphins up.

PollyAnna

   I re-read yesterday's blog and wasn't totally thrilled with it. It wasn't supposed to sound so Pollyana-ish but it did.
   I'm very aware that we have no control over some of the things that happen to us and that you can't just flip a switch and say, "Okay! That's done. Let's move on." No. It doesn't happen like that at all.
   The truly devastating things that happen to us are very often too deep to fathom, too deep to push aside easily. Too deep to want to think about. The wound too painful to look at in broad daylight. To open it up and air it out.
  But that deep place is so sad. So dark, so ... unthinkable. I can't stay at the bottom of that pit forever. So I chose to find the way out. One step at a time. One moment at a time until the moments became minutes and the minutes turned into hours and days. It takes time and that time span is different for everyone.
   The choice to consciously make things better made the difference between living and dying for me.
   The cold and the dark and the numbness at the bottom of my pit would have claimed my life if I'd stayed.
   I hope that if any of you have ever reached those depths, you'll remind yourself that you still know how to climb and you can reach for the sky, one handhold at a time.
Here's mine.      

The Choice to be Happy

   We tell our kids over and over again about making good choices. Sometimes they do and sometimes they don't. Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't.We're not that far removed from those juvenile years of travelling blindly, doing what we're told - or not. The difference is that most of us have learned some hard lessons in the 'consequences' department. Most of us have accumulated enough of those that we 'get it'.
   The one choice that makes the most sense to me is also the hardest. That's the choice to be happy. And no matter what - I've learned it doesn't happen over night.
   When something terrible happens, for a while, we're thrown into confusion, shame, grief, horror - whatever - but eventually, we realize there are different ways to handle these things. You take a hard look at where you are and in my case, I began to think, "How can I get as far away as possible from this thing, in the shortest time possible... Losing Drew had put me in a place that was just too damn hard to be in. It wasn't me and it certainly wasn't him.So I made a choice to look for ways out. Easier said than done, my   friend.
   This 'teacher' named grief has a mind of its own and it has a course to follow and it won't be shoved or pushed or hurried in any way. I imagine that all heartbreaks are similar. The heart break of death, divorce, infidelity, failure, job loss - any number of things. 
  But when the time's right - and it differs for all of us - you can begin to look at your options. You hate this situation. It feels like hell - it is hell. What now.
   When I reached this junction, I made the descison to choose my perception of what was happening, and when I had analysed that to death and gotten nowhere, I decided that it was going to take a supreme effort of body mind and spirit to begin to heal. So, I ate a lot of chocolate for feel-good endorphins and drank red wine (for courage) and then had to excercise until I was blue in the face to combat the side-effects of that diet - and I began to keep a journal. My soul began to write.
   I had deliberately found a way to feel. Not okay - but better. One friend of mine following the death of his wife, took off sailing around the world. Another, an ex-football player - took up ball room dancing. There are ways to combat this crap and if you make the choice to find them - you can.
   It is ultimately the choice to be happy. You won't get there over night, but with that choice, you'll find the right road.
    More next time.
Courage, Mon Ami!
  

Continued...

   You'll hear over and over again that "It's not what happens to you that matters but how you deal with it." That's true. But I believe that "what happens to you" matters too.

   Over the years, through successes and blunders, I like most of you have developed some ideas about experiencing and dealing with my spirit's chosen course. In the next blog let's explore them.
In the meantime, whatever happens to you this weekend, on this gorgeous planet, I hope it's wonderful. I hope you'll find appreciation and be happy.

The School of Hard Whops

   It gets confusing.
   The world  is filled with living, breathing beings. We see them as people, earthlings if you will. I'm quite sure there are all sorts of other beings on other worlds but for the time being, let's look at us.
   What I do know is this: In reality, we are all spirits, strong, powerful beings who have agreed to come to earth for one or more lifetimes.
   What I want to know is this: Why on earth would I chose to live on earth? With all its suffering, its hatred, its meaness - why? Why didn't I choose to be a gorgeous bubble of irridescent gas floating around deep space at the birth of this universe? How very peaceful. Or better still, I could have stayed on my cushy cloud strumming my harp? It's also possible I haven't quite earned that status yet, and if I want to, I'd better get down here and learn some hard lessons. Perhaps. And if that's the case, we've come to the right school. We're in a very dense vibration with a degree of difficulty that will test us to the limits of our endurance. And sometimes beyond. If we conme close to mastering our humanity, like anything else, we will emerge stronger, better and wiser beings. With more kudos than we had when we arrived. 
   I think we have some choice as to how we weather this lifetime. And that in itself is a choice. We can choose to be active, pro-active or static. Free will is a double-edged tool. Have you noticed? It can be wielded in any direction and here too, we are required to make choices. We can learn the lessons we've chosen (that's right) or reject them.
     One thing is clear, my spirit has decided on this earth course to move us forward, so I don't want this physical me to mess up the plan by going backwards. I have to keep remembering that I am a strong and powerful spirit who has chosen to experience humanity.
    

Spirit Nursery - Babies-in-Waiting

     Here's another aspect to seeing spirits.

   I had a dream one night, the first dream of this kind I can remember ever having. It was early morning actually, in that space between waking and sleeping. The mind's out of the way, still sleeping, so the spirit can move freely before it gets bogged down in the affairs of living on earth..
   In the dream I saw myself standing inside my daughter's living room looking out of sliding glass doors onto the deck. There were three young children playing together in what seemed to be a sandbox. I recognized two of them as my two and three year old grandchildren, Brock and Courtney. The third child had her back to me but as I stood there watching she turned around and smiled at me. She was about three years old, her hair was shoulder-length and strawberry blonde and her smile was the biggest smile I've ever seen.
   Sometime during the day I called my daughter and told her about the dream.
  "I don't think I know her," she said.
  "You're not pregnant are you?" I asked. Her horrified answer shot down the line "With a two and three year old? Do I seem crazy to you, Mom? No, I am not! Pregnant or crazy". 
   Four years later Becca was born to Karen. At three years old she had shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair and a gorgeous smile. She was the baby from my dream. 
   As you might imagine, I began to pay close attention to babies in my dreams. My son's oldest child was born a year after Becca. I saw James in a dream (at about the age of two) nine or ten months before he arrived. I noticed that I could pick up not only physical characteristics but personality markers too. James was a much quieter personality, more serious that Becca. The night he was born he got into some serious breathing difficulties and we were all worried about him. His mother, a neo-natal nurse was very much afraid for him and Michael my son was pale, tense and trying to be calm for her sake as doctors and nurses worked on the baby in the ICU.
   I finally got up the courage to say the only thing I could say that might help.
   "The only thing I can tell you Michael, is that I've seen this baby in a dream - at two years old. He's going to be okay."
   Michael's not sure about this stuff and long ago I might have been burned at the stake for suggesting such a thing  - but James made it. Alive and well and thriving ten years later. He's a quiet child for the most part, studious and a little serious.
   My other two younger grandchildren have made appearances too and so have certain babies of friends. 
   One young friend of mine miscarried a baby boy several years ago. I saw this dark-haired, big-eyed infant just once but very clearly. I saw him again in a dream two years later when this young woman excitedly announced that she was pregnant again. When he was born, I recognized him as the child she had miscarried. He'd decided to give it another try! Perhaps it just wasn't the right time for this spirit to reincarnate the first time. So he just waited until it was.
   To me, this is one of the most exciting manifestations. Because, if I see spirits before they are born - and am able to identify them absolutely after they're born, there is clearly life on The Other Side. These spirits are living before they get here and that makes me know that we'll all be living after we leave. Make sense?
   So, sleep well, and pay attention to those strange little people in your dreams. You're going to see them soon.

Will I Know You In Heaven?

   A friend who knew I was writing the book "Show Me Heaven, Drew", gave me this story.

   She had lost a daughter three years before in a car accident on one of the windy country roads around here, and like me, had felt her child's presense around her. A touch on her hand, someone playing with her hair, and once she had heard her voice on the stairs. And Unidentifiable phone calls. Her awareness was tweaked and she began to look for signs that Annabelle was around her. Her husband was getting the same tweaks.
   One night she had a dream that she was standing in a garden. It was filled with the same misty light that fills some of mine. Her daughter stood in front of her. Annabelle looked just as she had on earth, at seventeen. Same long, brown hair, same smile, but what impressed my friend most was that her gestures, her personality, the emotions around Annabelle were just as they had always been.The same sensitivity, the same sense of humor, her smile ... nothing had changed.
   They talked for a while and then the girl said she had to go. She started looking over her shoulder and appeared to be expecting someone or something ... My friend followed her daughter's eyes and noticed an elderly woman walking across the garden towards them. She couldn't tell who it was, but Annabelle recognized her. She  waved excitedly. Then waved goodbye to her mom and began running towards the approaching woman. The dream ended.
   The next morning at breakfast, the phone rang and it was a member of the family letting my friend know that an aunt had passed away suddenly during the night.
   She hadn't seen this particular aunt much over the last several years, but knew immediately that this was the elderly woman in her dream who Annabelle had run to greet.
   So it seems that we do recognize each other on the other side. And that those already there have far better recall than we do.Which encourages me. There have been times over the last couple of years that I've met people and run into them months later (here on earth) and have absolutely no idea who they are. But they seem nice, and they seem to like me and I'm hoping that one day my memory will kick back in and I'll remember their names.  
   I wonder if it's true that we are met on the other side by people we know... I hope so because my sense of direction doesn't work well here, so God knows where I'll wind up Over There if no one's there to meet me.
   Until next time. Be happy, have fun.

Spirit Senses

     Will I know you in Heaven? Will you know me? Will we look the same - you and me? Sometimes I wonder that if I live to be old - really old - will you recognize me? I know I'll know you Drew, because you're forever young. The answer is yes - we'll see and remember everything through our Spirit Senses.
     When I first began this blog, I talked about seeing spirits, talking to spirits - people who have passed on. Like the little guy in the movie "Sixth Sense" ...I see dead people.  :o) That's scary - but accurate enough in the language of a child. who cannot yet articulate exactly what he sees.
      When I see and tallk to spirit, here's what I "see."
     Using the language and senses of my soul which have more depth, more dimension and more feeling than any we are given to work with here on earth, I first sense a presence. Have you ever felt as though someone was staring at you? And if you glance up and across the room, you see that actually someone is staring at you? That's your soul sensing another soul in its vicinity. Remember, you are in fact a spirit living here in a physical body.This is not the physical you having a woowooo Twilight Zone experience, it's your soul stepping out of its earthly experience for a moment, to be a spirit again.
     So this is what happens first. I sense a presense nearby. I recognize what's happening and now I involve all of me in the the experience. I join my spirit, saying, "I'm here."
     Now that I've joined body and soul together, I get a sense of who I'm "picking up". Male or female. Or is it an animal I knew in life? The impression is very clear and long before I actually see through the eyes of spirit, I know who I'm with.
     Suppose it's my father. I feel his personality, I hear a song he sang to me as a child and my heart leaps. I may smell his cigar smoke. "Dad's here!" Now I begin to see him as though he was right in front of me. I allow his being to show me himself as he is now. (They are always much younger than they were when they went over. Usually about 30 or 40 - whatever they think is the perfect age for them) I can see what he's wearing. I can see if he's carrying anything, like a book, a cane, an umbrella ... he may be wearing a coat - or shorts. He's all there. Then I sense his mood. Is he happy, confused, sad? Is his demeanor urgently trying to tell me something or, as sometimes happens with Drew - "I Just Called to Say I love You?" Just popped in. If there is something they want to say, this is the time to let them know you're listening. Ask, "Is there something you want to tell me?" You may get silence. Followed by one single word - or a stream of thought that goes so quickly you're scrambling to keep up. This is when I grab a pencil and a piece of paper and start scribbling. Sometimes they want to show you where they are now. This is your turn to ask questions. "Have you seen so and so??" He didn't go to hell after all!! Just kidding - you know I don't believe in hell. Is Mom there? Is there music? Is there football? Are there mountains, can you ski?
     They'll tell you. 
     You know when they're ready to go. They simply fade. Maybe they'll say something like "Gotta go!" as Drew does. Maybe they'll just smile and leave.
     This is spirit communication. We can all do it. We just have to remember who we are. Powerful spirits living on earth in earth bodies - but with all of our spirit senses alive and well. We just have to remember.
      And believe.
     Next blog, we'll talk about meeting people we know Heaven.

From the Mountains

     From the Mountains Cometh My Strength. James.

   I'm back in the Rockies for a few days, replenishing my spirit. This is Bachelor Gulch in Colorado, about six miles from Vail and the place that is home to one of the best hotels and resorts in the world. The Ritz Carlton at Bachelor Gulch. This is where Drew lived, worked and played in the mountains for the last five years of his life. It is also the place that awarded him their Five Star Employee Award for 2008.
   So I'm sitting on my balcony, looking out at Beaver Creek Mountain watching the ski crowd weaving and swerving their way down the slopes. The snow boarders swishing and curving, swaying - flying like the wind -  and aggravating the serious skiiers :) It's sixty degrees farenheit, the sun is shining and I can breathe in the air here, fill my lungs with life and peace and strength, surrounded by Drew's freinds and co-workers and being spoilt to death. I love these kids! They are all so vibrant, so kind so smart and sweet.  
  
   From the Mountains Cometh My Strength: It's a quote that's always resonated with me. Perhaps it has something to do with my wild and free youth in Rhodesia. Not so free actually. If you've ever been a resident of an all-girls boarding school, you will know that there are eyes in the walls, in the floors and in the hallways and bushes. You can't get away with anything - much less making a break for it. But it had its moments.For instance, I was crazy in love at sixteen with the captain of the Umtali Boys High School Rugby team. (McDreamy, move over!) He was seventeen. Clandestine phone calls, love letters and trumped up excuses for going to town, took up a fair amount of my time - and his - but everything was so exciting and naughty!!
I don't know about him but it kept me from dying of boredom for a while.
  But I digress. Here's the point - that school's motto was; Ex Montibus Robur as some of you from that era may remember.  From the Mountains Strength. So strong, so brave and sure and confident. Everything I wasn't. So it could be that just plain boy-craziness had me hooked.
    But I don't believe that.
   When I look out at the Rocky Mountains, my soul flies free. Words fade in insignificance and I stand in awe in their majesty, their beauty, their rock solid strength. And for a while I can breathe it in and feel that it belongs to me. From The Mountains, Strength. 

Madame Stella D'Oro

   A name like the one in the title should be a dead giveaway that you may not be dealing with a scrupulous clairvoyant. Think so?
   I think so. Approach with Caution is the message conveyed here. It's a good idea though, to approach anyone who deals in the supernatural - or says they do - with extreme caution. And I would not exclude organized religion from this group. I lived in fear for years thinking my non-Catholic mom was going to hell because she refused to convert - according to my Catholic church. If I believed in Hell (which I do, but not the red-hot-burning-fires of demons and pitchforks that they parade around Sunday schools) I would also believe that people who tell little children these things to frighten them, are all going to be wiggling on the ends pitchforks in some firey place one day.
    God is love. According to Drew - it is a love so pure and real that we have no words for it on earth. And can you imagine this God firing up the furnaces and throwing his children onto a red-hot pit of coals? What nonsense!
   But I digress. Just be careful of people who set themselves up as authorities on the subject of all things spiritual and "psychic." Have all your antennae switched to "on".
   But they too are "Teachers." Some good, some bad, some memorable and some - not so much... Just like the ones we had at school.The thing is, although we all have these Extra-Sensory-Perception gifts to some degree or another, there are those who have honed them to a fine art and will do a lot of good with their abilities, but there are those who will not.
   As you can imagine, it's a very easy field to exploit and one of the saddest and most treacherous ways on earth to exploit people who consult them in good faith. But some will use this medium to do just that. 
   Their audiences are sitting ducks. Usually grieving people or people desperately looking for answers from somewhere outside of themselves - and their known universe. It's very easy to tell these people exactly what they want to hear. And you do that by being very good at reading people and all the signals we give off. And they make a lot of money doing it.
   The first psychic medium I ever consulted became a good friend over the years. She was highly intuitive, gentle and deadly accurate. She told me on my very first visit that my husband Walt was "making a soul decision about whether to stay or to leave."
   My initial reaction was "What Nonsense!" The first one of these bozos I consult is a whack job! I'm outta here! I wouldn't be surprised if some pissed-off angel is waiting to smite me when I step outside! I'm going to burn in hell for plain stupidity! 
   But I stayed and listened to this woman, in a tiny adobe house in the red rock canyons of Arizona - a Navajo woman with a degree in music displayed on an ancient piano pushed back against a bumpy wall.
   Walt died of a massive heart attack ten days later. Nobody saw it coming. He never knew about my visit to the psychic.
   And then there was Madame Stella D'Oro in NYC who I went to see on a whim while strolling the sidewalks of New York one day.Terrible idea. She started by giving me some dire warnings about my life and everyone else's (involving suicides and terrible illness and huge money losses and - floods and earthquakes - and ended the conversation (when she saw she was losing me) by saying she would tell me the rest of the story for another $350.  
   Yup. Proceed with caution.
   But don't write them all off. The discipline of intutive study is real, and in the right hands it can open many, many doors. It can comfort and cleanse and soothe.There are some very good people who practice this spiritual way of life, incorporating it into their everyday lives and sharing it with others. You will almost never find any of them trying to convert anyone else or trying to convince someone that there's is the "only way." They have no need to do that. They allow people to walk their own truths. They are some of the most genuine worthwhile people you will ever meet. 

Bright Star

   Drew died in Colorado. A few days later when I spoke at a memorial gathering of his friends and co-workers I told them this: 

  "If I had been born Arapaho or Lakota or Cheyenne, I would have been very comfortable with the idea that one day, a very bright star looked down from heaven, his eyes glittered, he beamed and decided to come down for a visit. He came to have fun and to bring fun into all the lives he would touch. To kick the planet up a notch, to make it shine a little brighter and to love a little stronger."

   As with all stars as hot and as bright as this one, they burn out quickly.The light around them dims as it gets further and further away from us but closer and closer to heaven where it explodes in a firey shower of love and laughter.

   And I hear Drew saying through his light and laughter as it trickles back to earth,  "It was fun! Gotta Go! Have Fun!" .  

A Box of Chocolates

   When you have kids you never know what you're going to get. And how can you? You've got a man and a woman deciding to create a brand new person for starters. (This thought in itself is fraught with unknowns.)They are two very different sexes. Couldn't do it otherwise I don't think. But who knows these days... They come from different backgrounds, different circumstances and different points of view. Why on earth would we think we'll get or beget (if you want to get biblical about this) people that are just like us. When we're not even like each other! Doesn't happen. With this many genes humming around absolutely anything can show up. Oh one may have his father's eyes, but another may have eyes no one on either side has ever seen before. Hey... don't go staring at the mailman's eyes just yet. Remember, blue and brown make purple. That doesn't sound right but, a light shade of purple?? Elizabeth Taylor's much touted violet peepers? It's possible. Green and brown make hazel. And so on.    
   As Forest Gump said "Life is just a box of chocolates - you never know what you're going to get."
   Take my youngest son. I know for a fact that neither his dad or I would ever (not in a million years) think of jumping out of an airplane. He did. Called me from the Moab Desert, laughing and babbling that he'd just gone sky-diving - it was great! Fabulous! Sweeeet!  "Didn't think I should tell you about it until I landed!" Good thinking, Drew. And Walt needn't worry about the mailman. Uh uh. Not the sky-diving type. We also got pictures of Drew four wheeling through the red-rock canyons of Colorado, kicking up dust, sliding on two wheels. And another interesting one of him perched on an overhanging outcropp of Rocky Mountain, approximately 5,000 ft above the desert floor.Which is 5,000ft above sea level. Nothing between him (the can of beer in his hand) and the ground, except blue sky. This kid lived his whole life on the edge.
   At seventeen, he jumped off the London subway one station too soon, leaving his dad and I screaming through the closed window, mouthing at him to catch the next train we'll meet you at the next stop!!!  We hadn't a clue where were underneath this vast city, but somehow he did what he was supposed to and showed up at the next station. Same thing in NYC - only this time we didn't see him for two hours - he'd taken a trip to the Bronx and back.
    He came in one night (2 in the morning actually) INCENSED! He'd been given a ticket. What happened, Drew - weary, bleary-eyed parental inquiry. "Well there was this guy - going so slow that if he'd slowed down anymore I swear his car would have died. Cop car! So I finally got sick of it and overtook him and he pulled me over madder 'n' hell, and ticketed me! For nothing! What's that about??" I'll tell you "what that's about." Twisty mountain roads in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia, Drew's wearing dark glasses - and his earring - and a goatee... Of course he pulled him over! "What were you thinking???"
   At sixteen he and three buddies (whose parents are also wondering about heritage issues) went mudding on a builders lot with their brand new learner's licenses. One of them got stuck in the mud. Why not. So, another of them tried to pull him out and - got stuck in the mud.
   Drew to the rescue. Attaches one of the stuck cars to his tail gate, revs the truck, spins out throwing mud twenty feet in the air and loses both his bumper and his tailgate. Buried in the mud. No problem. There's a crane standing around doing nothing so one of them climbs into the cab and starts it up. Somehow both stuck cars and Drew's wrecked truck got home.
   At times like this you think - no you don't - you can't think and speech fails you as you stare at your teenager dripping mud all over the kitchen floor. All you can do is pray - and thank God he's still alive and try not to kill him before the prayer finds it's way upstairs. 
   So you see, you just don't know what you're going to get when you get into this birthing process. It seems as though Walt and I spent our lives trying to keep Drew alive. Sometimes you can, and sometimes you can't. Because in the end this child of ours is his own person. With his own mind and a set of genes we've never heard of. He is also the kindest, least judgemental person I have ever met. And James Dean good-looking.
   And look what happened to him...
   It's all about the blueprint we bring into this world with us. A blueprint for all the lessons we've decided to learn in this lifetime.
   Bright stars are aligning for tomorrow's blog.

The Cost of Loving

   There have been times over the last two years when I've thought that the cost of loving is just too high. You love someone with all your heart and soul, there is nothing you wouldn't do for that person. No transgression is too great to forgive. Your put your own needs aside to be there when you are needed. No problems that come up are too big for you to fix. 
  And you do all this with love, and for love and the light that comes into your life when that someone you love walks in.
   Then everything changes. It's late at night when the earth shifts. The ground you were standing on five minuters before you got that call from a distant hospital has disappeared from under your feet. There's been an accident - a sudden illness - something unthinkable has happened...
   You race through the darkness, and when you arrive, bright, harsh light, slick white hallways assault your senses. Hushed voices are saying saying things like, "injury", unconsciouss" "non-responsive." What are the talking about? Words floating through the antiseptic air ... clinical coldness.
   You look at the figure lying on the slightly raised hospital bed. How many times have you heard, "He looked as though he was asleep." At first. But he's not asleep. He's not there. You're looking at the shell of someone who lived inside it a few hours ago. He's not there. Try as you might, you can't feel him there.
   And then slowly you become aware that he's gone.
   Coma.
   This is a problem you can't fix. This is a problem too great for you to fix. 
   More words... Brain waves - his brain waves tip the lowest end of their medical scale. Irrecoverable... 
   No one has ever done a brain transplant - have they? They can take yours if it will bring him back...     
   And the full meaning of loving someone unconditionally is clear. You would give your life for his - if you could.  There would be no question.
                                                                         *****
   Much, much later, sometimes months or years later, it will occur to you that indeed to love this way is worth all the risk, the pain and the ultimate loss. It surrounded Drew all his life. What greater gift to him - and to me for being able to love so totally.  

   In the end - love is all there is.