A Shaft of Light
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Joy to The World
This is for everyone - no matter what you were raised to believe, no matter what you believe now, or even if you believe nothing at all because, seeing is believing, By Golly!
What is it about Christmas that lightens all our different worlds and perspectives? For some it's religious, for some it's the fun of giving and receiving mounds of presents, for others it's feeling the excitement of the crowds in malls decked with tinsel and colored lights - hustle and bustle. The expectation on Christmas Eve is magical. The carols are lovely and the candlelit Christmas dinners - so fine.
As I said, this is for everyone, Christian, Jewish and Muslim, Hindu and Buddhist, those whose beliefs lie in the Earth, the Sky, Fire and Water ... who love the feel of Christmas who decorate Christmas trees and hang colored lights, whose children open gifts...
I wonder why we all love this Holiday? Could it be that the message of Christmas is Peace? We're all still working on that, but the message is clear as a winter's night with a starlit sky ...the peace of a stable, the warmth of the hay, the gentleness of warm animals and the music of angels. Peace. Peace on Earth. How we all wish that could be. And maybe for a moment, an evening, we can combine that Universal thought with heaven and believe it can be.
Then there are the children. Do you ever wonder what they're thinking? (Apart from the presents that are actually beside the point) There's magic in the air. There's glitter in the air - tinsel and soft light, white fur and glistening snow and sparkling sunlight ... silver bells and satin ribbons... sugary treats and colored lights and a baby in the manger. Little lambs and Angels.
Are children remembering another place? Another time? Are we all? Could this "Christmas" that we love, take us back to where we used to be? Is "Christmas" a reminder of who we are? Could this be a glimpse of our Heavenly Home?
Is it the Spirit of Christmas that we love - or is it the Spirit within us resonating with all that is good?
I wish you all Peace, Love and Happiness - good friends, great food and a wonderful Christmas.
Namaste.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
3:00 a.m. Wake Up Call
Good Morning!
Daylight savings time came at just the right time. I was woken up this morning by something trying to get into my house - so I thought,as I lay there, rigid as a board, wondering what evil was afoot.
It turned out to be a tiny field mouse trying to scratch its way into my pantry. I thought I had done away with these creatures... a few winters ago.
"Miss Kitty!" Where was the hunter of the household when I needed her? Sound asleep on the end of my bed. "Miss Kitty!" I bellowed. "I have a creature of interest here..." Nothing.
I rattled her cookie box. She came running. "Catch it!" I ordered, pointing at the pantry door.
"Where are the cookies? You called me for cookies!" Indignation and slit eyes...
"CATCH the mouse!" My voice rose sternly.She sat down and proceed to wash her face. By this time the mouse had vanished behind the entertainment center. I lunged for a broom, and rattled a ruler in the gap between the wall and the cabinet. Nothing. Not even a squeal.
Then it moved. Miss Kitty and I both went into action. She sprang. I batted the floor behind it as it darted for the couch. Miss K. sat down and peered behind the couch. I batted and swatted and shook the furniture and hyperventilated. She decided to complete her boudoir.
Finally, at nearly four a.m. I gave up, put the weapons away and went back to the bed. My cat was snoozing, her ears twitched as I crawled in beside her. I turned the light off and lay there determined to go back to sleep. Worst thing you can do, but eventually I drifted off - with my ears twitching.
When I awoke a hour or two later, the cat was gone, the mouse had been neatly executed,and was lying between the Miss Kitty's paws on my doormat.
I think there's something to be learned here. If at first you don't succeed - wait it out. Take a nap, wash your hair, have a cookie and then take another nap.
Everything will be alright in the end.
Happy November everyone.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
After the Sunset, a New Day is Born.
He was seventeen, suntanned and good looking. In the fall he was a high school football star, and he was on the short-list of acceptances to one of the West's best Universities, but on this mid-summer's evening he drove his new Camaro through the mountains, towards a house on the river where somebody was throwing a party. Life was good. The mountain air was exhilarating, and he drove with confidence, negotiating the winding roads with ease, and the lengthening shadows that darkened the blacktop.
His best friend rode beside him, his hands smacking his knees as he sang loudly and tunelessly to the beat of the rock music that blared from the car's radio. That was one of the things he liked about this friend. He loved to sing and didn't give a rat's ass about who was listening. They had been friends since they were six, tracking snakes and lizards that hid under the rocks in the heat of summer, they rode the rapids on the river, skied the mountains in winter and laughed and fought and raced through life at top-speed.
The sun was setting as the boy drove into the small river town, it's light yellowing the sky, it's glare sparking off the windshield. He stepped on the gas to catch the stop light at the bottom of the hill before it changed. The engine roared, drowning out the sound of radio as the car lunged forward and into the path of a logging truck backlit by the dying rays of the setting sun.
The sound of tearing metal, the stench of burnt rubber filled the air, gasoline puddled underneath the logs that were strewn like pick-up-sticks across the road. The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of the rock station still broadcasting from the Camaro's radio, and the boy's voice calling his friend's name. There was no answer.
The days following the accident were dark. The tragedy too hard to grasp for too many people affected by it. No one was more affected than the boy who knew his actions had killed his best friend.
This happens all over the world, maybe every day. Young people, good kids, bad judgment and tragedy. How do they go on? How do they live with the guilt and the grief? Sometimes they don't.
Good parents, themselves in despair, can help. So can friends. But really, that youngster who was behind the wheel is very much alone.
The only good thing about this, that anyone could see, was that the kids in town and for miles around were driving better. No one ran any stop lights for months. Speeding tickets fell off, and everyone seemed to have slowed down. A lot of youngsters grew up very fast that evening. Especially the boy.
There is a way to look at something this terrible in a different light, and from a different perspective. Not everyone reading this will agree, and nor do I ask you to. But for just a few moments, I ask you to consider it.
These two boys were lifelong friends. But it might have been anyone. People who barely knew each other. But what if they have actually known each other throughout eternity? What if they have lived numerous other lives here and on the other side together? What if there was an agreement between them to come into this life together and create this accident?
What!!? What for?
To create awareness on many, many levels. Not only safety awareness. But to be aware of the people you love and never miss an opportunity to tell them you love them. Because, in the final analysis, love is all there is. To be aware of all the people such a tragedy affects and in some cases, cripples. To be aware of how you view your own sense of responsibility in all things that matter. To value our own lives and live them to their fullest potential.
I believe that with this perspective, this young man will move on with purpose, and the intention of making things better for himself and for all those around him. I believe that with the right counsel, when the grief passes, he will take stock of his life like never before, and he will guide that life to its highest potential. Who knows? Will he become a high school teacher? A counselor who will counsel from experience? Will he be a movie maker? A song writer? A legislator? Will he teach his own youngsters and others to live well for their own sakes, and the sakes of all the people who love them?
I think so. He will make it his life's purpose. And he won't be alone. His best friend, his co-creator will be walking beside him, every step of the way.
So, when the sun goes out of your life this way, always wonder what the new day could bring. I hope it's something wonderful.
His best friend rode beside him, his hands smacking his knees as he sang loudly and tunelessly to the beat of the rock music that blared from the car's radio. That was one of the things he liked about this friend. He loved to sing and didn't give a rat's ass about who was listening. They had been friends since they were six, tracking snakes and lizards that hid under the rocks in the heat of summer, they rode the rapids on the river, skied the mountains in winter and laughed and fought and raced through life at top-speed.
The sun was setting as the boy drove into the small river town, it's light yellowing the sky, it's glare sparking off the windshield. He stepped on the gas to catch the stop light at the bottom of the hill before it changed. The engine roared, drowning out the sound of radio as the car lunged forward and into the path of a logging truck backlit by the dying rays of the setting sun.
The sound of tearing metal, the stench of burnt rubber filled the air, gasoline puddled underneath the logs that were strewn like pick-up-sticks across the road. The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of the rock station still broadcasting from the Camaro's radio, and the boy's voice calling his friend's name. There was no answer.
The days following the accident were dark. The tragedy too hard to grasp for too many people affected by it. No one was more affected than the boy who knew his actions had killed his best friend.
This happens all over the world, maybe every day. Young people, good kids, bad judgment and tragedy. How do they go on? How do they live with the guilt and the grief? Sometimes they don't.
Good parents, themselves in despair, can help. So can friends. But really, that youngster who was behind the wheel is very much alone.
The only good thing about this, that anyone could see, was that the kids in town and for miles around were driving better. No one ran any stop lights for months. Speeding tickets fell off, and everyone seemed to have slowed down. A lot of youngsters grew up very fast that evening. Especially the boy.
There is a way to look at something this terrible in a different light, and from a different perspective. Not everyone reading this will agree, and nor do I ask you to. But for just a few moments, I ask you to consider it.
These two boys were lifelong friends. But it might have been anyone. People who barely knew each other. But what if they have actually known each other throughout eternity? What if they have lived numerous other lives here and on the other side together? What if there was an agreement between them to come into this life together and create this accident?
What!!? What for?
To create awareness on many, many levels. Not only safety awareness. But to be aware of the people you love and never miss an opportunity to tell them you love them. Because, in the final analysis, love is all there is. To be aware of all the people such a tragedy affects and in some cases, cripples. To be aware of how you view your own sense of responsibility in all things that matter. To value our own lives and live them to their fullest potential.
I believe that with this perspective, this young man will move on with purpose, and the intention of making things better for himself and for all those around him. I believe that with the right counsel, when the grief passes, he will take stock of his life like never before, and he will guide that life to its highest potential. Who knows? Will he become a high school teacher? A counselor who will counsel from experience? Will he be a movie maker? A song writer? A legislator? Will he teach his own youngsters and others to live well for their own sakes, and the sakes of all the people who love them?
I think so. He will make it his life's purpose. And he won't be alone. His best friend, his co-creator will be walking beside him, every step of the way.
So, when the sun goes out of your life this way, always wonder what the new day could bring. I hope it's something wonderful.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Paving the Way
Have you noticed how things seem to happen in sequence? It's almost as though we consciously or unconsciously pave the way into the future, setting ourselves up for the next life event.
I've noticed over the years how each step I take is like a stepping stone. For instance; 'Chance' meetings - not really by 'chance'? Of course you can consciously set up a meeting with someone you know or someone you would like to know. But sometimes, you meet someone by 'chance'. Although if you start walking backwards you'll be able to trace the steps right back to where that meeting began, and you'll realize it was all a set up! It's as though some unseen hand was at work making that meeting happen all along.
It can be a significant person or a life-changing event. And you won't see the sign-posts until you look behind you.
When I came to live in Virginia, once settled into our remodeled house, I began to get restless so I went to work writing a weekly column for a local newspaper. While there, I 'happened' to notice an article in one of the publications about "Developing the Sixth Sense through Meditation". Hmmmm. A couple of weeks later, my editor asked me to do an article about an Animal Communicator (You know, Dr. Doolittle) who lived at the lake. Not long after that interview, so intrigued was I, that I joined an exploration circle to find out what all this psychic, sixth sense, metaphysics stuff was all about. And stayed with them for eight years, studying every aspect of subject.
Like most people in the circle, I was intrigued, mystified and there for fun and entertainment. Then a life event happened. Then another, and I knew for sure that all of the preceding eight years were preparing me for those events. They had been carefully orchestrated to give me the tools I needed to cope with the deaths of my husband and son. By who? Certainly not me.
I also discovered that you don't have to be 'psychic' to have a sixth sense - it just is. We all have it, it's a gift to all of us, God-given, like the gift of sight, hearing, smell, taste and feeling. This one is just hidden a little. And it remains hidden until something happens (in my case) to make you want to dig it out and make it work. But making it work doesn't have to be triggered by anything drastic. It's always there for any of us to access.
And so, beginning with curiosity and a developing awareness, my road was paved for the writing and publication of "By Morning's Light."
Since then, I've discovered that the conclusion of the book is not the end of the journey. The next step was to spread the word - to let people know that we don't die, that there is nothing to be afraid of.
This blog is one of those stepping stones, it leads to the next one which is actually more of a bridge than a paver or a stepping stone. A giant stepping stone, perhaps, into a world of markers, and sign posts, twists and turns. It's a new book I've written in answer to so many questions you asked during the presentations and book signings of Morning's Light. I've called it, "Yesterday, Today and Forever".
You wanted to know; how do you do this? When did you know there was this other world out there? How old were you? How do you know you're not imagining all this? Can you talk to other spirits? What about 'evil spirits'? Aren't you scared of this stuff? What about Angels? And what are spirit guides? And Spiritual Healers? What's Reiki? How can I do this?
I'm going online with this book in the hopes that I can reach more people, so I will e-publish on Amazon (Kindle), who will also have print copies available for people like me who don't own a Kindle or a Nook or anything. That too will have to change. Very soon, I hope, I'll be able to tell you that It's Here!
Remember, always be curious, always wonder where the road is taking you. Meet your life with anticipation and excitement, even when things are going horribly wrong. Look forward to something beautiful just around the corner. And, where you can, pull out the bricks and mortar and help pave the way. Keep on going: even when the pavers don't fit just right, when the sign posts are crooked, and when you take a wrong turn. That's life, and it always goes exactly the way it's supposed to.
Be happy.
I've noticed over the years how each step I take is like a stepping stone. For instance; 'Chance' meetings - not really by 'chance'? Of course you can consciously set up a meeting with someone you know or someone you would like to know. But sometimes, you meet someone by 'chance'. Although if you start walking backwards you'll be able to trace the steps right back to where that meeting began, and you'll realize it was all a set up! It's as though some unseen hand was at work making that meeting happen all along.
It can be a significant person or a life-changing event. And you won't see the sign-posts until you look behind you.
When I came to live in Virginia, once settled into our remodeled house, I began to get restless so I went to work writing a weekly column for a local newspaper. While there, I 'happened' to notice an article in one of the publications about "Developing the Sixth Sense through Meditation". Hmmmm. A couple of weeks later, my editor asked me to do an article about an Animal Communicator (You know, Dr. Doolittle) who lived at the lake. Not long after that interview, so intrigued was I, that I joined an exploration circle to find out what all this psychic, sixth sense, metaphysics stuff was all about. And stayed with them for eight years, studying every aspect of subject.
Like most people in the circle, I was intrigued, mystified and there for fun and entertainment. Then a life event happened. Then another, and I knew for sure that all of the preceding eight years were preparing me for those events. They had been carefully orchestrated to give me the tools I needed to cope with the deaths of my husband and son. By who? Certainly not me.
I also discovered that you don't have to be 'psychic' to have a sixth sense - it just is. We all have it, it's a gift to all of us, God-given, like the gift of sight, hearing, smell, taste and feeling. This one is just hidden a little. And it remains hidden until something happens (in my case) to make you want to dig it out and make it work. But making it work doesn't have to be triggered by anything drastic. It's always there for any of us to access.
And so, beginning with curiosity and a developing awareness, my road was paved for the writing and publication of "By Morning's Light."
Since then, I've discovered that the conclusion of the book is not the end of the journey. The next step was to spread the word - to let people know that we don't die, that there is nothing to be afraid of.
This blog is one of those stepping stones, it leads to the next one which is actually more of a bridge than a paver or a stepping stone. A giant stepping stone, perhaps, into a world of markers, and sign posts, twists and turns. It's a new book I've written in answer to so many questions you asked during the presentations and book signings of Morning's Light. I've called it, "Yesterday, Today and Forever".
You wanted to know; how do you do this? When did you know there was this other world out there? How old were you? How do you know you're not imagining all this? Can you talk to other spirits? What about 'evil spirits'? Aren't you scared of this stuff? What about Angels? And what are spirit guides? And Spiritual Healers? What's Reiki? How can I do this?
I'm going online with this book in the hopes that I can reach more people, so I will e-publish on Amazon (Kindle), who will also have print copies available for people like me who don't own a Kindle or a Nook or anything. That too will have to change. Very soon, I hope, I'll be able to tell you that It's Here!
Remember, always be curious, always wonder where the road is taking you. Meet your life with anticipation and excitement, even when things are going horribly wrong. Look forward to something beautiful just around the corner. And, where you can, pull out the bricks and mortar and help pave the way. Keep on going: even when the pavers don't fit just right, when the sign posts are crooked, and when you take a wrong turn. That's life, and it always goes exactly the way it's supposed to.
Be happy.
Monday, September 9, 2013
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Changes
Nothing stays the same. Have you noticed? Change is one thing we can rely on. Even when things are going better than ever before, running on time, and just the way they should - change is on the way. You can count on it. But as disconcerting as this is, the opposite is also true. And that's a plus!
I woke up early this morning, opened my bedroom shutters, and watched the sky lighten. It went from cobalt gray, streaked with navy, and just as my eyes were getting used to that it brightened to deep blue and lavender. I'd like to keep the lavender, but even as I watch it, it's becoming a soft dove gray. Before long, this early fall morning will spring from the shadows and into the day with bright pink swathes of light and purple cloud. It looks like rain today.
And so goes life. It is the way things are meant to be. Summer has gone and autumn is creeping around the edges of the woodlands. Here in Virginia, the great eastern hardwood forests are showing flashes of yellow and red. They won't let go completely for a few weeks yet, but change is in the air. The nights are lengthening and the days getting shorter. Squirrels are gathering acorns. Spiders are thinking they can spend the winter inside my house. This too will change!
Even Miss Kitty is showing signs of her deep rooted ancestry in the Norwegian forests. Her pads have tufts of fur between her toes, Her ruff is full, and her naps are getting longer.
And because of our animal DNA, we too feel the changes coming. Some, like me, look forward to beauty of the fall. A walk through the woods, surrounded by the fire of autumn, ignites my energy, fires my imagination, and makes me look ahead to cool days, brilliant blue skies and starry nights. Yellow school buses add to the color, the kids are in school, I can go grocery shopping without worrying about being run over by a miniature cart with an unlicensed driver at the wheel. The lake is calm, the speed boats will soon be under cover, and the only sounds in my cove will be the from the wild birds that land at midnight on their way to the southlands.
But you may be one of those who dread the fall. Someone who sees the summer disappearing. The leaves dying, the grass turning brown, and, soon it will be cold. Don't despair! This too will change. In the meantime, let the fire of autumn ease the strain of letting go, look forward to an evening beside a log fire, watch some college football! Toast some marsh mallows, and, seriously ... eat a bar of chocolate!
The French have a saying: 'The more things change, the more they stay the same.' I think that means that in spite of all the changes that happen - there's a constancy in all of this. So take heart! Enjoy the changes, roll with them and always look forward.
I woke up early this morning, opened my bedroom shutters, and watched the sky lighten. It went from cobalt gray, streaked with navy, and just as my eyes were getting used to that it brightened to deep blue and lavender. I'd like to keep the lavender, but even as I watch it, it's becoming a soft dove gray. Before long, this early fall morning will spring from the shadows and into the day with bright pink swathes of light and purple cloud. It looks like rain today.
And so goes life. It is the way things are meant to be. Summer has gone and autumn is creeping around the edges of the woodlands. Here in Virginia, the great eastern hardwood forests are showing flashes of yellow and red. They won't let go completely for a few weeks yet, but change is in the air. The nights are lengthening and the days getting shorter. Squirrels are gathering acorns. Spiders are thinking they can spend the winter inside my house. This too will change!
Even Miss Kitty is showing signs of her deep rooted ancestry in the Norwegian forests. Her pads have tufts of fur between her toes, Her ruff is full, and her naps are getting longer.
And because of our animal DNA, we too feel the changes coming. Some, like me, look forward to beauty of the fall. A walk through the woods, surrounded by the fire of autumn, ignites my energy, fires my imagination, and makes me look ahead to cool days, brilliant blue skies and starry nights. Yellow school buses add to the color, the kids are in school, I can go grocery shopping without worrying about being run over by a miniature cart with an unlicensed driver at the wheel. The lake is calm, the speed boats will soon be under cover, and the only sounds in my cove will be the from the wild birds that land at midnight on their way to the southlands.
But you may be one of those who dread the fall. Someone who sees the summer disappearing. The leaves dying, the grass turning brown, and, soon it will be cold. Don't despair! This too will change. In the meantime, let the fire of autumn ease the strain of letting go, look forward to an evening beside a log fire, watch some college football! Toast some marsh mallows, and, seriously ... eat a bar of chocolate!
The French have a saying: 'The more things change, the more they stay the same.' I think that means that in spite of all the changes that happen - there's a constancy in all of this. So take heart! Enjoy the changes, roll with them and always look forward.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
MoonRise Mountain
I remember a note I got from my son Drew, not long after he arrived in Vail, Colorado. It simply said: "Last night I skied the Continental Divide under a full moon!"
A few nights ago, a friend and I rode to the top of the Continental Divide under a full moon, and coasted into Vail Valley in a car we weren't sure was going to make it.
The car began to slow. It huffed and puffed up the mountains from the Denver plain, getting slower with every mile. It was dying! But Cindy, my friend, had her wits about her. And rather than getting stuck in the Eisenhower Tunnel, right on our front bumper, she chugged and coaxed the altitude impaired car off the road just in time. Imagine the mess on a Thursday evening, clogging the only tunnel over this part of the Colorado Rockies. I don't want to think about it.
I especially don't want to think about it as I was there more or less illegally, having left my picture ID at home before trying to board the outward bound flight to Colorado. But somehow, some nice people at Airport Security, after a few pertinent questions, decided I wasn't connected to any dark forces, and let me fly. But I didn't want to clog up the tunnel and have anyone re-thinking that decision.
Then something happened that makes you want to say, "Hmmmmm..."
We had no sooner chugged to a dead stop at a turn-off at the mouth of the tunnel, when a Roads Department vehicle pulled up alongside us. There were two bearded men inside it. (I could have sworn they were from the mountains of Virginia). We hadn't seen them behind us. They just appeared.
They asked, "What seems to be the matter?" So we told them the symptoms. Quite simple. "It slowed down and stopped!" They diagnosed the problem, Vapor Lock at altitude, which sounded like a fit of the vapors to us. They told us to wait a few minutes and everything would be ok. So we did, and it was (except for the bear tracks Cindy found on the soft sand around the car) and when we turned around, the vehicle and the bearded men had vanished. We didn't see them come and we didn't see them go...
I was so relieved, I said, "They were Angels!" Cindy thought so too. And I could have sworn that the sign on the door of the vehicle said VDOT (Virginia Dept. of Transportation) It should have been CDOT. Helloooo...
But no matter who they were, or where they were from, it was a good feeling to have Angels riding the mountains with us. The moon was brilliant, the air was cool, and the mountains were breath taking as we cruised into the sea of twinkling lights of Vale Valley. A homecoming of sorts, a reunion with my own angel Drew, in many ways.
Yippeee!
Friday, August 16, 2013
Yes, Ghosts Do Like to Shop!
In my last blog, I talked about how so many of us have our own stories about our encounters with spirits. At every book signing, every presentation, these stories just pour out of people, as though they've been dammed up a long time. Well, not anymore. It's okay to talk about them now.
The thing that intrigues me most, and lends validation to this whole line of thought is this: Our stories are so many, and so similar, that there is no reason not to believe that they are what they are. Real.
And here's another one: A couple of weeks ago, a fellow writer blogged a story about shopping with a ghost! (You can read her blog at http:www.ghosttalkblog.com)
I can relate to that. In my book, "By Morning's Light", I tell the story of having lunch with a girlfriend of Drew's before they split up, just before he passed. I hadn't seen her since the Memorial Service and wanted to give her a present. Well, I shopped all afternoon and nothing caught my eye. Funny thing was, I hit on one store, and for some reason, although I wasn't finding anything there I wanted, I stayed all afternoon. It never occurred to me to try another store. (I can tell you exactly where everything was is in that store because I walked by it so many times.) I just kept looking for the perfect gift. Somehow knowing it was there.
2-3 hours later, I had almost given up, and was about to settle for a scarf or something totally without personality, when I walked past a counter and there, under the glass, was something I'd never thought of, something that had never crossed my mind to get. But it was right.
I bought it, The salesperson wrapped it in tissue paper and put it in a bag and I left the store on cloud nine! But...would Drew's friend like it??? I had no idea.
So, we met for lunch, and just as we were getting sentimental, I gave her the gift thinking it would cheer us up. Well! She burst into tears, so did I.
I said, "WHAT! What's going on?"
"Oh my God! This silver card holder with the butterfly etched on the cover, is the exact same gift I bought for Drew just days before we broke up!" She dabbed her eyes. "But, he never knew about it because he died before I could give it to him..."
Drew had been shopping with me. "Oh yes, he did!" I told her. "This is from Drew - telling you he knew about it, knows about it ... he's acknowledging it! This is a gift from him."
After shopping all morning for the perfect gift, I had been guided by Drew to this gift, to this place, to this girl with this gift. Coincidence? Well, you know what I think about that!
Believe.
The thing that intrigues me most, and lends validation to this whole line of thought is this: Our stories are so many, and so similar, that there is no reason not to believe that they are what they are. Real.
And here's another one: A couple of weeks ago, a fellow writer blogged a story about shopping with a ghost! (You can read her blog at http:www.ghosttalkblog.com)
I can relate to that. In my book, "By Morning's Light", I tell the story of having lunch with a girlfriend of Drew's before they split up, just before he passed. I hadn't seen her since the Memorial Service and wanted to give her a present. Well, I shopped all afternoon and nothing caught my eye. Funny thing was, I hit on one store, and for some reason, although I wasn't finding anything there I wanted, I stayed all afternoon. It never occurred to me to try another store. (I can tell you exactly where everything was is in that store because I walked by it so many times.) I just kept looking for the perfect gift. Somehow knowing it was there.
2-3 hours later, I had almost given up, and was about to settle for a scarf or something totally without personality, when I walked past a counter and there, under the glass, was something I'd never thought of, something that had never crossed my mind to get. But it was right.
I bought it, The salesperson wrapped it in tissue paper and put it in a bag and I left the store on cloud nine! But...would Drew's friend like it??? I had no idea.
So, we met for lunch, and just as we were getting sentimental, I gave her the gift thinking it would cheer us up. Well! She burst into tears, so did I.
I said, "WHAT! What's going on?"
"Oh my God! This silver card holder with the butterfly etched on the cover, is the exact same gift I bought for Drew just days before we broke up!" She dabbed her eyes. "But, he never knew about it because he died before I could give it to him..."
Drew had been shopping with me. "Oh yes, he did!" I told her. "This is from Drew - telling you he knew about it, knows about it ... he's acknowledging it! This is a gift from him."
After shopping all morning for the perfect gift, I had been guided by Drew to this gift, to this place, to this girl with this gift. Coincidence? Well, you know what I think about that!
Believe.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
One Story One Path
It's been a year full of insight for me: The year I spent introducing hundreds and thousands of people to "By Morning's Light." The true story of my reconnection with my son Drew in the Hereafter. (As the cover says).
I wish I could have met all of you who have either read, or picked up the book for yourself or a friend. Meeting so many of you at the presentations and book signings all over the country this year has been one of the super highlights of my life. Talking about the book, sharing my thoughts and amazement with you, has been a wonderful experience and still is. But the best part of all of this is what I have learned from you.
My favorite part of any presentation is when we open it up to include your questions, your opinions, and your stories. It never fails in every gathering around this book, that nearly everyone has a story of their own to share. The more stories I hear the more insight I gain, and Drew's story is validated over and over again. Your stories have lifted me, excited me and kicked my certainty up a hundred notches!
The really phenomenal thing about this is that all our stories are saying the same thing. Every contact, pat or hug from the Other Side, tells us that life doesn't end - it changes. And there are far too many similar stories from people from every walk of life and belief system, to think that we are all 'seeing things' or that millions of imaginations are running wild. That makes no sense in a logical world. It makes no sense at all for us all to be so mistaken. The other thing is, everyone who has experienced this phenomena, doesn't just believe what they've seen, they know they weren't imagining things. Believers and skeptics alike.
So don't stop believing! There is nothing weird about seeing, hearing or talking to spirits. To my way of thinking, it's a natural part of who we are in body mind and spirit, living here on earth for the time being.
And there is no conflict that I can see with even with the most dogmatic religious teachings. Don't they all ask us to 'speak to God' or to Jesus, or Mary? To pray to Allah or ask the angels for help?
Of course they do.
Talk to your angels. Speak to God, and feel the spirits you love around you all the time. They are with you, they'll never leave you, you can talk to them, and one day we'll all be face to face again. I promise.
Thank you with all my heart for reading the book and for sharing your own stories with us.
I hope I'll see you at some of the presentations this coming year. All over the Commonwealth.
I wish I could have met all of you who have either read, or picked up the book for yourself or a friend. Meeting so many of you at the presentations and book signings all over the country this year has been one of the super highlights of my life. Talking about the book, sharing my thoughts and amazement with you, has been a wonderful experience and still is. But the best part of all of this is what I have learned from you.
My favorite part of any presentation is when we open it up to include your questions, your opinions, and your stories. It never fails in every gathering around this book, that nearly everyone has a story of their own to share. The more stories I hear the more insight I gain, and Drew's story is validated over and over again. Your stories have lifted me, excited me and kicked my certainty up a hundred notches!
The really phenomenal thing about this is that all our stories are saying the same thing. Every contact, pat or hug from the Other Side, tells us that life doesn't end - it changes. And there are far too many similar stories from people from every walk of life and belief system, to think that we are all 'seeing things' or that millions of imaginations are running wild. That makes no sense in a logical world. It makes no sense at all for us all to be so mistaken. The other thing is, everyone who has experienced this phenomena, doesn't just believe what they've seen, they know they weren't imagining things. Believers and skeptics alike.
So don't stop believing! There is nothing weird about seeing, hearing or talking to spirits. To my way of thinking, it's a natural part of who we are in body mind and spirit, living here on earth for the time being.
And there is no conflict that I can see with even with the most dogmatic religious teachings. Don't they all ask us to 'speak to God' or to Jesus, or Mary? To pray to Allah or ask the angels for help?
Of course they do.
Talk to your angels. Speak to God, and feel the spirits you love around you all the time. They are with you, they'll never leave you, you can talk to them, and one day we'll all be face to face again. I promise.
Thank you with all my heart for reading the book and for sharing your own stories with us.
I hope I'll see you at some of the presentations this coming year. All over the Commonwealth.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Ghost Talk
Hi Everyone,
If you like my blog, I know you'll enjoy http://www.ghosttalkblog.com It's owner is Beverley Young, an intuitive, sensitive and thoughtful blogger. She writes well and I think you'll appreciate her many topics.
Beverley recently posted a review of By Morning's Light. Really good.
Happy reading!
http://www.ginny-brock.blogspot.comhttp://www.ghosttalkblog.com
Ginny
If you like my blog, I know you'll enjoy http://www.ghosttalkblog.com It's owner is Beverley Young, an intuitive, sensitive and thoughtful blogger. She writes well and I think you'll appreciate her many topics.
Beverley recently posted a review of By Morning's Light. Really good.
Happy reading!
http://www.ginny-brock.blogspot.comhttp://www.ghosttalkblog.com
Ginny
Riding With You Down Country Roads,
I drove down to South Carolina and the beach last week. It should have been an easy ride; I was longing to see my family who had gathered for the annual get-together, I couldn't wait to get to the beach, and the weather promised to be beautiful. What fun!
So much for that. I was as nervous as a cat in a sack because I'd never driven this way before and what's more, it was just Becca (my 14 year old granddaughter) and me making the trip. Everything depended on ME not to lose my way, not to panic, not to mess up. Too much responsibility. I was sweating for days before I left. Called all my friends to keep their cell phones handy in case someone had to come and rescue me.
But early on Monday morning, we piled into the car and took off. Becca's duffle bag weighed more than the back seat of my car. Good! Plenty of clothes. We wouldn't freeze. In July. I could breathe.
And then suddenly, I laughed! That familiar WHOOSH! of warm air filled the car, and I knew Drew was travelling with us. 'Every step of the way, remember, Mom?'
I remembered. "Beck," I said, "I have the strongest feeling that Uncle Drew is going to the beach with us!"
"Mmmm..." she was already snoozing.
"Just you wait - he's going to play one of his favorite songs for us - somewhere between here and there. And I'm thinking it'll be Nickelback's "Photograph."
"Mmmm..."
My nerves settled down. The early morning countryside going south was beautiful. Rolling hills, wild flowers ... I felt like singing. But I didn't. I just breathed deeply and relaxed into the drive.
Two hours later, Becca awoke in time to help navigate us through the Greensboro interchange between Route 68 and Interstate 40. Hectic! Multi-lane madness! Traffic all over the place, I clutched the steering wheel with all my might, nerves in high gear, put my head down and drove.
Suddenly, there was a little tap on my knee. "Mimi - listen ..."
I listened. Nickelback was singing, "Photograph".
Of course. "... every step of the way, Mom."
And I began to sing. Until three hours later when we got stuck in the South Carolina mud. More about that next time.
Take care!
So much for that. I was as nervous as a cat in a sack because I'd never driven this way before and what's more, it was just Becca (my 14 year old granddaughter) and me making the trip. Everything depended on ME not to lose my way, not to panic, not to mess up. Too much responsibility. I was sweating for days before I left. Called all my friends to keep their cell phones handy in case someone had to come and rescue me.
But early on Monday morning, we piled into the car and took off. Becca's duffle bag weighed more than the back seat of my car. Good! Plenty of clothes. We wouldn't freeze. In July. I could breathe.
And then suddenly, I laughed! That familiar WHOOSH! of warm air filled the car, and I knew Drew was travelling with us. 'Every step of the way, remember, Mom?'
I remembered. "Beck," I said, "I have the strongest feeling that Uncle Drew is going to the beach with us!"
"Mmmm..." she was already snoozing.
"Just you wait - he's going to play one of his favorite songs for us - somewhere between here and there. And I'm thinking it'll be Nickelback's "Photograph."
"Mmmm..."
My nerves settled down. The early morning countryside going south was beautiful. Rolling hills, wild flowers ... I felt like singing. But I didn't. I just breathed deeply and relaxed into the drive.
Two hours later, Becca awoke in time to help navigate us through the Greensboro interchange between Route 68 and Interstate 40. Hectic! Multi-lane madness! Traffic all over the place, I clutched the steering wheel with all my might, nerves in high gear, put my head down and drove.
Suddenly, there was a little tap on my knee. "Mimi - listen ..."
I listened. Nickelback was singing, "Photograph".
Of course. "... every step of the way, Mom."
And I began to sing. Until three hours later when we got stuck in the South Carolina mud. More about that next time.
Take care!
Friday, August 2, 2013
I Must Be Dreaming ...
I wonder about dreams. Don't we all?
Some dreams I get; I totally understand dreams that seem to be leftovers from the previous day. A kaleidoscope of images, impressions, fears and excitements of the last few days or weeks. I recognize the circumstances and the people and so, I know what we're talking about here - my brain and I. The other dreams I understand well are the dreams that aren't really dreams, but visits from people I'm missing, people who have passed over, people who live thousands of miles away - or right next door, if they've been on my mind.
These special dreams are so real you can almost reach out and touch them. You can feel the warmth emanating from the other person, smell that person's special scent, feel the emotions coming from him or her. And they almost always have a message for you.
Take one I had not long ago about old friends of mine who I hadn't seen for months - but had every intention of calling ... In the dream, the husband and wife were standing together and she was saying,
"We can handle it." He was quiet. I felt very strongly that there was something physically wrong with him. So I called them that morning.
"Is everything alright?" I asked. "No," my friend said. "Jack has just been diagnosed with something they have no cure for. But we can handle it ... we'll handle it," she said.
Always follow up on dreams like this. Sometimes the meaning isn't quite as clear. But hang onto the dream and it will almost always show it's meaning very soon.
In another dream, a young friend of mine was twirling in a knee-length wedding dress. I could smell the scent of the bouquet she held, her cheeks were pink and there was a glow about her I could almost feel. Later on that day, I called her mother who said, "Isn't that funny! Maryanne and I were talking about what kind of wedding dress she had in mind ... she was adamant that it would not be a long gown. A short dress," she said. "Nothing too formal." It surprised me. I always thought Maryanne would go for the whole long gown, train and bridesmaids galore. Apparently not.
And then there are those strange flashes of dreams that usually careen around right before I fall asleep. They're filled with strange faces. People I don't recall ever seeing, in places I've never been to. These too, are very real. Vibrant. Although I never hear voices or any conversation out of them. Who are they? The faces are clear but quite unknown to me. Who are they? There's not much action around them - they're just like - now you see them, now you don't.
Well, your guess is as good as mine. Are they bleedthroughs of long forgotten faces in a throng? A crowd? Someone I met very briefly - and forgot immediately? Why would my brain through them up now? Or, are they people from another life? A parallel universe? Friends from the other side? People I knew before I came to earth?
One day we'll find out. In the meantime, I'll wonder. And always be amazed.
Sleep well my friends, stay well, and I wish you pleasant dreams.
Some dreams I get; I totally understand dreams that seem to be leftovers from the previous day. A kaleidoscope of images, impressions, fears and excitements of the last few days or weeks. I recognize the circumstances and the people and so, I know what we're talking about here - my brain and I. The other dreams I understand well are the dreams that aren't really dreams, but visits from people I'm missing, people who have passed over, people who live thousands of miles away - or right next door, if they've been on my mind.
These special dreams are so real you can almost reach out and touch them. You can feel the warmth emanating from the other person, smell that person's special scent, feel the emotions coming from him or her. And they almost always have a message for you.
Take one I had not long ago about old friends of mine who I hadn't seen for months - but had every intention of calling ... In the dream, the husband and wife were standing together and she was saying,
"We can handle it." He was quiet. I felt very strongly that there was something physically wrong with him. So I called them that morning.
"Is everything alright?" I asked. "No," my friend said. "Jack has just been diagnosed with something they have no cure for. But we can handle it ... we'll handle it," she said.
Always follow up on dreams like this. Sometimes the meaning isn't quite as clear. But hang onto the dream and it will almost always show it's meaning very soon.
In another dream, a young friend of mine was twirling in a knee-length wedding dress. I could smell the scent of the bouquet she held, her cheeks were pink and there was a glow about her I could almost feel. Later on that day, I called her mother who said, "Isn't that funny! Maryanne and I were talking about what kind of wedding dress she had in mind ... she was adamant that it would not be a long gown. A short dress," she said. "Nothing too formal." It surprised me. I always thought Maryanne would go for the whole long gown, train and bridesmaids galore. Apparently not.
And then there are those strange flashes of dreams that usually careen around right before I fall asleep. They're filled with strange faces. People I don't recall ever seeing, in places I've never been to. These too, are very real. Vibrant. Although I never hear voices or any conversation out of them. Who are they? The faces are clear but quite unknown to me. Who are they? There's not much action around them - they're just like - now you see them, now you don't.
Well, your guess is as good as mine. Are they bleedthroughs of long forgotten faces in a throng? A crowd? Someone I met very briefly - and forgot immediately? Why would my brain through them up now? Or, are they people from another life? A parallel universe? Friends from the other side? People I knew before I came to earth?
One day we'll find out. In the meantime, I'll wonder. And always be amazed.
Sleep well my friends, stay well, and I wish you pleasant dreams.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Dark Energy! Really??
I never think about the entity known as Dark Energy(connotations of swirling black mists filled with evil intent) other than to give it a cursory glance if there's a question about it during one of my book presentations. Dark Energy is not in my universe, it is not allowed near me, and in all of my out-of-this-world excursions, I have never encountered it. But it came dangerously close right here on planet earth.
Possession? Are you kidding? No. It cannot, and will not possess any soul, yours and mine included, unless you invite the darkness in. But last week it did it's best to possess my computer and all my life affecting information.
I have always known there are dark people who are filled with malicious intent, and a group of them hacked into, and compromised 60% of my files. I couldn't get online, I couldn't access any of my accounts - my PC was crippled; infected by sick and malevolent people.
Lucky for me, there are geeks on earth who know a lot more about curing computers than I do, and a team of them worked on it for two hours to get it well.
Yes, there are such beings as Dark Souls who inhabit dark people. These are the souls who, when they pass over, step right back into the revolving door and enter a new life. It's my understanding that they keep doing this until a glimmer of light squeaks its way in to warm a corner of that coldness, and hopefully bring them back into the fold of human goodness and love. But in the meantime, they can be found all over the world and in your back yard. Recognize them, exude your own goodness of spirit, and hope that someone, somewhere will someday make a difference in their lives.
And don't worry! It's mostly a wonderful world filled with good people. And my computer's working thanks to the White Knights!
Possession? Are you kidding? No. It cannot, and will not possess any soul, yours and mine included, unless you invite the darkness in. But last week it did it's best to possess my computer and all my life affecting information.
I have always known there are dark people who are filled with malicious intent, and a group of them hacked into, and compromised 60% of my files. I couldn't get online, I couldn't access any of my accounts - my PC was crippled; infected by sick and malevolent people.
Lucky for me, there are geeks on earth who know a lot more about curing computers than I do, and a team of them worked on it for two hours to get it well.
Yes, there are such beings as Dark Souls who inhabit dark people. These are the souls who, when they pass over, step right back into the revolving door and enter a new life. It's my understanding that they keep doing this until a glimmer of light squeaks its way in to warm a corner of that coldness, and hopefully bring them back into the fold of human goodness and love. But in the meantime, they can be found all over the world and in your back yard. Recognize them, exude your own goodness of spirit, and hope that someone, somewhere will someday make a difference in their lives.
And don't worry! It's mostly a wonderful world filled with good people. And my computer's working thanks to the White Knights!
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
2000 Year Old Voices?
Hi Everyone,
I'm off to the beach next week to take a break from writing - and my characters who seem to want to chat and hang out everywhere I go!
You see, I've just finished writing a novel whose main theme is reincarnation. It's been an amazing trip through my imagination, carrying me from the shores of the Shenandoah River in this century, to the shores of Ancient Greece in the Golden Age of Pericles. 420 BC.
My constant companions have been my brightly colored, over-the-top imaginary characters. From both centuries. Who I might add, I've become great friends with.
The trouble is, they've taken this story and run with it. And I'm wondering what's going on. There have been times when I sat down to write a chapter and my pre-conceived ideas of how it would go were tossed out in about five minutes when, all of these guys began jabbering a mile a minute, changing my sentences, voice pattern and incidents. One of them actually said, "That's not the way it happened!"
So just as I'm thinking I need a mint julep or a sip of ouzo (clearly, I'm working too hard and am in danger of retreating into my undiluted imagination) I came across an ancient map of Athens or Attica as it was known then.
I had already imagined and created the setting for the Greek part of the novel, but I thought I better check my bearings and find out what ancient Attica really looked liked. There's nothing worse than an author who hunts Tigers and Polar bears in Africa, and I didn't want that to happen.
So, I'm staring at my own creation of the ancient city, and looking at the old map - I know exactly where my imaginary Greek lady protagonist lives in a villa at the foot of the mountain, and I know exactly how to get there from the harbor. And as I superimpose the old map on the map of my imagination, I see that everything is exactly where it should be. There is a mountain in the city - just one - as I had imagined. I had placed the villa and its surrounds perfectly! And the road from the harbor to the villa was exactly where it should be, winding among hundreds of other streets that have come and gone over the centuries since Astraia lived there.
That's her name, Astraia. Daughter of the Stars. Or Shenandoah, as the Indians named the river.
Were these Ancient Greeks talking to me from over 2000 years ago? How else do I know my way around Athens, through the markets, the Turkish quarter, the Arab quarter and on and on? I've never been to Athens. Not yet!
I'll tell you more as we go. Enjoy the sunshine of home!
I'm off to the beach next week to take a break from writing - and my characters who seem to want to chat and hang out everywhere I go!
You see, I've just finished writing a novel whose main theme is reincarnation. It's been an amazing trip through my imagination, carrying me from the shores of the Shenandoah River in this century, to the shores of Ancient Greece in the Golden Age of Pericles. 420 BC.
My constant companions have been my brightly colored, over-the-top imaginary characters. From both centuries. Who I might add, I've become great friends with.
The trouble is, they've taken this story and run with it. And I'm wondering what's going on. There have been times when I sat down to write a chapter and my pre-conceived ideas of how it would go were tossed out in about five minutes when, all of these guys began jabbering a mile a minute, changing my sentences, voice pattern and incidents. One of them actually said, "That's not the way it happened!"
So just as I'm thinking I need a mint julep or a sip of ouzo (clearly, I'm working too hard and am in danger of retreating into my undiluted imagination) I came across an ancient map of Athens or Attica as it was known then.
I had already imagined and created the setting for the Greek part of the novel, but I thought I better check my bearings and find out what ancient Attica really looked liked. There's nothing worse than an author who hunts Tigers and Polar bears in Africa, and I didn't want that to happen.
So, I'm staring at my own creation of the ancient city, and looking at the old map - I know exactly where my imaginary Greek lady protagonist lives in a villa at the foot of the mountain, and I know exactly how to get there from the harbor. And as I superimpose the old map on the map of my imagination, I see that everything is exactly where it should be. There is a mountain in the city - just one - as I had imagined. I had placed the villa and its surrounds perfectly! And the road from the harbor to the villa was exactly where it should be, winding among hundreds of other streets that have come and gone over the centuries since Astraia lived there.
That's her name, Astraia. Daughter of the Stars. Or Shenandoah, as the Indians named the river.
Were these Ancient Greeks talking to me from over 2000 years ago? How else do I know my way around Athens, through the markets, the Turkish quarter, the Arab quarter and on and on? I've never been to Athens. Not yet!
I'll tell you more as we go. Enjoy the sunshine of home!
Sunday, July 7, 2013
The Up Coming Book
YESTERDAY, TODAY & FOREVER
The true story of Life before Life, This Life and the Next
By Ginny Brock
Author of "By Morning's Light".
Is entering the editing stage of its current incarnation, and I hope to have it in circulation within the year.
It begins where we all did, in Africa.
High on the plains above the escarpment, a white child is embraced by the gentle brown spirit of her Zulu nanny, who introduces her to invisible people of the plains - animal and human - and the all-powerful Sangomas. Those multi-dimensional beings - part human, part wild animal part, spirit who live in the crater; who can fix everything from broken minds and bodies to broken dolls.
Carrying the memories she's always had of "another place - where the light can sing, and animals speak, a place that feels like Sataday morning..." the child grows up across the wide canvas of Colonial Africa, learning to recognize the faces of those people from the Other Side - knowing that she can talk to them, and hear what they are saying.
Across the deep valley of the rift, the flooding lowlands of the Great Zambesi, and the far flung Islands of the Aldabra archipelago. The journey continues, to the giddy heights of the Seychelles, whose mountains are alive with gris gris, flaunting a beauty that must surely belong to the Garden of Eden or the devil himself. It is a place of a place of good and evil, languishing in a comedy of errors orchestrated by a lofty British Administration. An Administration, who may as well be wearing red coats in the tropics, as those ostrich plumes waving giddily atop headgear, riding the only Roll Royce on the islands, delivering mandates to a population who could care less; sipping Pink gins, lounging in flappy-legged shorts. "Good God! who ever heard of wearing underwear in the tropics, what!" Chortle, chortle.
Funny people make their way through the pages, flanked by funny ghosts and displaced Americans. A love story, that could have been forever, walks beside great human tragedy - walks among the spirits of forever, winding back to the land where it all began, to rendezvous again with the ghosts of Africa - Yesterday, Today and Forever.
The book is part memoire - and part entertaining lesson in how to speak to ghosts. A vividly written story, painted with the flame and indigo of Africa, the deep blues and milky greens of Indian ocean and the Persian Gulf and white, white sands of Arabia.
It's a trip! One I invite you to take as I begin to litter the blog with tidbits to to whet your appetite. Bon Apetit! And, watch this space.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
The Ghosts of Williamsburg
Happy 4th, my American friends, and to all my friends who couldn't be with me in Williamsburg last week.
See what I mean?
I was surrounded by Red-coated and Revolutionary soldiers. Doesn't get any better than that. Handsome fighting men everywhere. And ice cream.
Very cool.
Cannon blasts, smoke, people from 1776 - and their ghosts.
Williamsburg is crawling with ghosts. They like me, and I think they like my friend Cindy. We found three in her bedroom.
"I couldn't sleep a wink," she announced the next morning. "All I did was toss and turn."
That's because they were watching her.
"Are you joking?"
"There were three of them, a husband and wife and the wife's mother."
The women were dressed in unbleached cotton skirts and scarveswrapped around their heads, the man in a dirty cotton shirt and three quarter pants. They were slaves - which wasn't surprising because my friend and I were sharing one of the Kitchen Houses - the slave quarters that were built away from the mansion to house the house keeping slaves.
"I'm getting outta here!" Cindy was already packed.
"They're not dangerous," I told her. "Just curious."
She said, "Good! I'm still leaving".
But if they know you can see them, leaving doesn't help.
I didn't even do that. As I was staring across the grassy area, I had the clear impression of soldier standing beside a tall sycamore. He wore the tricorn hat, white britches and a long navy and gold coat. I want to think he was a Frenchman; and he wasn't happy.
"That's because he got blown out of his sleep by the canons!" My friend said. "I'm still deaf from the last one!"
"Where are the rest of the men?" I asked.
Long gone, he said.
"What about you?"
I don't know - I'm the only one here...
"Would you like to be with them?" I asked.
What do you think! Of course! he said rudely.
Well, it took awhile. Cindy was shuffling, ready to go while I tried to persuade him that he could go to them - and I knew how to get him there.
He wasn't polite at all. Gave me a lot of rude back chat.
Finally Cindy lost patience."Hey you!" That was my friend. "Get moving! Chop, chop! Now!"
The ghost swung around, went into a crouch and aimed his riffle in her direction.
"Omg! I've never heard of anyone being shot by a ghost!" I whispered.
"I'm just telling him to move! Where are the canons when you need them."
Cutting along story short, he finally got the message and faded through the trees, and into the light - ungraciously, I might add.
I saw his troops calling to him. He heard them too.
You just can't tell a ghost to move his ass. They go when they feel like it.:)
I hope you have fun this Independence Day. And remember the ghosts who fought for what is still a wonderful country.
***
I was surrounded by Red-coated and Revolutionary soldiers. Doesn't get any better than that. Handsome fighting men everywhere. And ice cream.
Very cool.
Cannon blasts, smoke, people from 1776 - and their ghosts.
Williamsburg is crawling with ghosts. They like me, and I think they like my friend Cindy. We found three in her bedroom.
"I couldn't sleep a wink," she announced the next morning. "All I did was toss and turn."
That's because they were watching her.
"Are you joking?"
"There were three of them, a husband and wife and the wife's mother."
The women were dressed in unbleached cotton skirts and scarveswrapped around their heads, the man in a dirty cotton shirt and three quarter pants. They were slaves - which wasn't surprising because my friend and I were sharing one of the Kitchen Houses - the slave quarters that were built away from the mansion to house the house keeping slaves.
"I'm getting outta here!" Cindy was already packed.
"They're not dangerous," I told her. "Just curious."
She said, "Good! I'm still leaving".
But if they know you can see them, leaving doesn't help.
***
Somewhere off Duke of Gloucester street, behind one of the very large mansions, there's a cemetery fully of revolutionary soldiers. The grass is neatly mowed, surrounded by hedges and trees, but there are no headstones. No markers. It's very quiet back there. The only sounds are the wind in the trees and the birds that fly among them. Unless you stay awhile, and ask, "Who's there?" I didn't even do that. As I was staring across the grassy area, I had the clear impression of soldier standing beside a tall sycamore. He wore the tricorn hat, white britches and a long navy and gold coat. I want to think he was a Frenchman; and he wasn't happy.
"That's because he got blown out of his sleep by the canons!" My friend said. "I'm still deaf from the last one!"
"Where are the rest of the men?" I asked.
Long gone, he said.
"What about you?"
I don't know - I'm the only one here...
"Would you like to be with them?" I asked.
What do you think! Of course! he said rudely.
Well, it took awhile. Cindy was shuffling, ready to go while I tried to persuade him that he could go to them - and I knew how to get him there.
He wasn't polite at all. Gave me a lot of rude back chat.
Finally Cindy lost patience."Hey you!" That was my friend. "Get moving! Chop, chop! Now!"
The ghost swung around, went into a crouch and aimed his riffle in her direction.
"Omg! I've never heard of anyone being shot by a ghost!" I whispered.
"I'm just telling him to move! Where are the canons when you need them."
Cutting along story short, he finally got the message and faded through the trees, and into the light - ungraciously, I might add.
I saw his troops calling to him. He heard them too.
You just can't tell a ghost to move his ass. They go when they feel like it.:)
I hope you have fun this Independence Day. And remember the ghosts who fought for what is still a wonderful country.
***
Monday, March 25, 2013
Snow Day
If it thunders in February it will snow in April! My late mother-in-law knew these things and the way things are going I have no reason to disbelieve her.
If you live in my corner of Virginia you know that it snowed all day yesterday, took a breather at about 6:00 p.m. and then started up again at somewhere around midnight - I have to take someone's word for that as I was asleep, but we did add another inch to the 6 inches we got yesterday.
I loved it. But Miss Kitty was another matter. She was in all day and all last night, mostly snoozing, because she hates getting her feet wet and cold.
She also hates her litter box and will only pee outside. (Which I'm thankful for in many ways.)
So I said, "Your ancestors were barn cats in Maine for heaven's sake! I can't believe you're worried about a little snow?"
She said, "My ancestors also had to eat raw mouse day and night. They didn't live in Virginia - with you... Anyway, they were fine. Their barns in Maine were better than the Norwegian forests that they used to live in."
So she was stayed inside with her legs crossed getting more bad tempered by the minute, until finally she couldn't take any longer and at 10:00 a.m. this morning she crept outside.
If you live in my corner of Virginia you know that it snowed all day yesterday, took a breather at about 6:00 p.m. and then started up again at somewhere around midnight - I have to take someone's word for that as I was asleep, but we did add another inch to the 6 inches we got yesterday.
I loved it. But Miss Kitty was another matter. She was in all day and all last night, mostly snoozing, because she hates getting her feet wet and cold.
She also hates her litter box and will only pee outside. (Which I'm thankful for in many ways.)
So I said, "Your ancestors were barn cats in Maine for heaven's sake! I can't believe you're worried about a little snow?"
She said, "My ancestors also had to eat raw mouse day and night. They didn't live in Virginia - with you... Anyway, they were fine. Their barns in Maine were better than the Norwegian forests that they used to live in."
So she was stayed inside with her legs crossed getting more bad tempered by the minute, until finally she couldn't take any longer and at 10:00 a.m. this morning she crept outside.
One step at a time, Dear Pussy Cat God!
Into the bushes.
Many ounces lighter ... That's enough of that!
And it's not even April yet!
Happy Snow Day Virginians! Happy Any sort of Day everyone else.
Seize it.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
What's Next?
My African friends will recognize this picture, so will many of you who have never been to Africa. (If I could take you all, I would).
This is a shrub that grows on the plains of Africa in summer, and in the mountains and on the coast. We call it "Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow".
The first buds of summer that appeared Yesterday are tightly wrapped and deep purple. They'll begin to open Today and as they do, they lighten to a shade of lavender, wide eyed and searching for the sun. Tomorrow, in the last throes of their short life they'll fade to bright white, eventually falling from the stem to begin the cycle all over again.
Proves my point that we're all connected. How so?
Think about it. We arrive on this planet, tightly wrapped from our mother's wombs - you can still see the creases on a new born baby - and some of us are pink but one of mine was verging on purple when he was born. We begin to open our eyes and gaze around in wonder, then step into life and seize it for all we're worth. From the first unsteady steps, we progress to the running stage and then there's no holding us. We leap into the full bloom of our lives with everything we've got seizing it with both hands, flaunting the beauty of our youth and energy for all to see. Shining as brightly as the sun by day and the moon by night.
And then, as though surfeiting of the glories of summer, we begin to fade. And "... nothing can bring back that splendor in the grass..." (Thank you Mr. Wordsworth)
Eventually, we too fall from the stem and the cycle begins again.
So, my friends, Carpe Diem. There's lots of living to be done! Whether you're eighteen or eighty - healthy or ailing, give it everything you've got. Today belongs to us. Tomorrow? Who knows? It's not promised to anyone so take on this day and live it and love it and make it the best day of your life.
NOTE: Following the publishing of "By Morning's Light, so many of you asked me, "How can I connect with people I love on the Other Side?" In response to that, I've written a second book that tells you how I first became aware of souls speaking to souls. It's part autobiographical and part "How To." It's all fun! Funny, poignant, happy, sad and informative.
I've named it, "Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow." I hope it will be available this summer.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Let Me Fix that For You!
There was a time not long ago when I really wanted to fix a dear friend of mine. Her life was turning into a shambles and she couldn't seem to find the answers to any of her problems.
I on the other hand, from where I was standing, could see multiple ways she could make things better.
Wanting to help her I gently pointed out a few things she could do to pull herself out of what looked like a free fall into a crash and burn situation.
She agreed with most things I said but I could see I wasn't making much of an impression. She's depressed, I decided. Well, we can fix that! A Zumba class! Lively Latin music, dance, exercise and fun all rolled into one neat prescription for depression. She just stared at me. Okay, maybe I should have started with Yoga. Maybe, she said. Thinking I'd found an inroad I plied her with numbers to call and even gave her the names of a couple of Yoga instructors I knew.
Nothing happened. Maybe it was a nutritional thing. Should she try cutting out wheat? Sugar? Maybe, she said.
What about nicotine? To me this was the obvious thing. No! She refused.
Nearly everything. No one can get into the soul of another person. No one knows the inner workings of someone elses marriage, someone elses family or home life. No one knows everything about anyone elses background, childhood and how that may be playing into the present circumstances.
Except for the person who is living that life.
So maybe I should abandon all my efforts to help?
I don't think so. I just have to understand that she is the only one who can help. If she wants to. She has to decide to fix things for herself. What if she doesn't want to? Well, you may stay awake at night worrying and fussing and getting frustrated with her but it won't help anyone.
So with this friend of mine, who I love, I have decided that she has to make her own choices. She has to walk her own path. And I have to be okay with whatever she decides to do. I can be here for her anytime of the day or night she needs to talk to someone. I can support her decisions - whether I agree with them or not - remembering that what may not be right for me, might be okay for her. And I have to keep reminding myself that I cannot walk her path for her. I can be there if she trips and I can pick her up if she falls and give the encouragement she needs to keep moving forward. And I can pray that it's enough.
Be Happy.
I on the other hand, from where I was standing, could see multiple ways she could make things better.
Wanting to help her I gently pointed out a few things she could do to pull herself out of what looked like a free fall into a crash and burn situation.
She agreed with most things I said but I could see I wasn't making much of an impression. She's depressed, I decided. Well, we can fix that! A Zumba class! Lively Latin music, dance, exercise and fun all rolled into one neat prescription for depression. She just stared at me. Okay, maybe I should have started with Yoga. Maybe, she said. Thinking I'd found an inroad I plied her with numbers to call and even gave her the names of a couple of Yoga instructors I knew.
Nothing happened. Maybe it was a nutritional thing. Should she try cutting out wheat? Sugar? Maybe, she said.
What about nicotine? To me this was the obvious thing. No! She refused.
***
The key phrase here is; from where I was standing. It's the totally wrong vantage point. If I'm going to fix her I have to be standing where she is. In her shoes and walking her path. The trouble is, that's not possible. As close as I am to her, I have no way of knowing everything that's going on in her life. From the outside looking in it seems that her life should be very good. A hard working husband, good kids, a comfortable home. What am I missing?Nearly everything. No one can get into the soul of another person. No one knows the inner workings of someone elses marriage, someone elses family or home life. No one knows everything about anyone elses background, childhood and how that may be playing into the present circumstances.
Except for the person who is living that life.
So maybe I should abandon all my efforts to help?
I don't think so. I just have to understand that she is the only one who can help. If she wants to. She has to decide to fix things for herself. What if she doesn't want to? Well, you may stay awake at night worrying and fussing and getting frustrated with her but it won't help anyone.
So with this friend of mine, who I love, I have decided that she has to make her own choices. She has to walk her own path. And I have to be okay with whatever she decides to do. I can be here for her anytime of the day or night she needs to talk to someone. I can support her decisions - whether I agree with them or not - remembering that what may not be right for me, might be okay for her. And I have to keep reminding myself that I cannot walk her path for her. I can be there if she trips and I can pick her up if she falls and give the encouragement she needs to keep moving forward. And I can pray that it's enough.
***
It's snowing again today! A chance to make new footprints in the snow and if you feel like it, change the direction of footsteps past. If not, keep on moving forward. Be Happy.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
One World, One Dream, One Heartache One with You
I've been thinking about this "Oneness" thing we all talk about. "We are all one." How can that be? I'm here, you're there. And not only physically but sometimes mentally too! What's it mean "We're all one"?
"I don't want to be you , thank you very much" you think, or "Oh, how I wish I was you..."
Well, you are and so am I.
In this wonderfully illusive reality of many dimensions we live in, we share one thing. The collective soul consciousness of all living things. It is our collective heritage. And whats more, it is ours to tap into whenever we want to and even when we're not even trying to dial it up. Very often this ultra awareness seeps into our preoccupation with busy lives and predispositions without any conscious effort or desire on our part.
Simply put, I feel what you feel. If you're happy, so am I. If you're sad, I am too. If you're feeling angry or jealous, well, we can all feel that too because it is part of our consciousness too, and at any moment, we can all be in the that frame of mind for one reason or another.
We can feel each others moods because we recognize them as our own. And it doesn't just happen with people we are close to. It's fair to say that the empathy may be more intense with those close to us, but think about how you feel in this instance: You're at a community picnic at the end of summer and one little boy who hasn't once been able to get up on water skis suddenly rises up and stands upright for the first time. Everyone of us are on our feet applauding. We feel all of his pride in his accomplishment and all the relief and pride in his parents. He's not our child but we all know the feelings because we have all been children and most of us are parents and even if we're not parents, that same oneness has kicked in to make us all feel the same thing. How absolutely fabulous!
The same thing happens when life happens and things get sad. Look around a funeral gathering. Maybe I've lost someone I loved and maybe I haven't but my sadness for you brings me to tears because on some level I recognize the feeling although in different degrees of intensity.
And it isn't confined to our species. A tiny kitten walks into a room full of people. It's lost and crying for it's mother. I can just hear the "Ahhhs!" and see people reaching for it to make things right. We recognize the same feelings that exist in our species. I once saw a baby dolphin die because it was caught up in the fisherman's nets in the Seychelles Islands. I can remember how sad I felt as I watched it's mother swim up and down the shore all day long looking for her baby.
Have you ever watched a giant tree fall? Cut down after maybe hundreds of years of sharing its shade, it's colors, it's beauty with us? How many of us feel a wrenching in our chests. A loss of something wonderful that is gone from our lives?
Do you ever thank your roses for blooming so magnificently and bringing you so much joy? I do. And haven't we all felt the urge to "kiss the bride"? To feel her happiness and save it in our hearts for a while?
There is nothing you can feel, that given similar circumstances, I couldn't feel too. And nothing you can accomplish or fail at that I couldn't accomplish or fail at too.
Yes lovely people, fellow keepers of each others consciousness, joys and sorrows, we can talk and feel across species and dimensions. Because we are all one no matter where we are.
Be Happy.
"I don't want to be you , thank you very much" you think, or "Oh, how I wish I was you..."
Well, you are and so am I.
In this wonderfully illusive reality of many dimensions we live in, we share one thing. The collective soul consciousness of all living things. It is our collective heritage. And whats more, it is ours to tap into whenever we want to and even when we're not even trying to dial it up. Very often this ultra awareness seeps into our preoccupation with busy lives and predispositions without any conscious effort or desire on our part.
Simply put, I feel what you feel. If you're happy, so am I. If you're sad, I am too. If you're feeling angry or jealous, well, we can all feel that too because it is part of our consciousness too, and at any moment, we can all be in the that frame of mind for one reason or another.
We can feel each others moods because we recognize them as our own. And it doesn't just happen with people we are close to. It's fair to say that the empathy may be more intense with those close to us, but think about how you feel in this instance: You're at a community picnic at the end of summer and one little boy who hasn't once been able to get up on water skis suddenly rises up and stands upright for the first time. Everyone of us are on our feet applauding. We feel all of his pride in his accomplishment and all the relief and pride in his parents. He's not our child but we all know the feelings because we have all been children and most of us are parents and even if we're not parents, that same oneness has kicked in to make us all feel the same thing. How absolutely fabulous!
The same thing happens when life happens and things get sad. Look around a funeral gathering. Maybe I've lost someone I loved and maybe I haven't but my sadness for you brings me to tears because on some level I recognize the feeling although in different degrees of intensity.
And it isn't confined to our species. A tiny kitten walks into a room full of people. It's lost and crying for it's mother. I can just hear the "Ahhhs!" and see people reaching for it to make things right. We recognize the same feelings that exist in our species. I once saw a baby dolphin die because it was caught up in the fisherman's nets in the Seychelles Islands. I can remember how sad I felt as I watched it's mother swim up and down the shore all day long looking for her baby.
Have you ever watched a giant tree fall? Cut down after maybe hundreds of years of sharing its shade, it's colors, it's beauty with us? How many of us feel a wrenching in our chests. A loss of something wonderful that is gone from our lives?
Do you ever thank your roses for blooming so magnificently and bringing you so much joy? I do. And haven't we all felt the urge to "kiss the bride"? To feel her happiness and save it in our hearts for a while?
There is nothing you can feel, that given similar circumstances, I couldn't feel too. And nothing you can accomplish or fail at that I couldn't accomplish or fail at too.
***
It's what my son Drew said when he spoke to me in Spirit from the Other Side in the book "By Morning's Light"; "...We're all one, you know. The ducks (in the lake) the old turtle ... the spiders on the leaves you're holding .. even those flowers in the rock bed ...we don't recognize that on earth , but here - it all comes near."Yes lovely people, fellow keepers of each others consciousness, joys and sorrows, we can talk and feel across species and dimensions. Because we are all one no matter where we are.
Be Happy.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Beach Time!!
It's mid-winter where I live. Sunday February 3 is a cold day in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia and the ducks in the cove are making me feel even colder. Don't you get it? (I thought projected through the big living room window.) You don't go swimming in February unless you're a Polar bear. And none of you look big enough to fit that bill! I get it that the water runs off a duck's back but don't you guys have any blood in your legs? I know it's not cold blood because you're a mammal but if it was ever hot, it's frozen now. But I can't worry about the ducks. They probably have their own mothers for that.
But what about me? And all of you out there who want to be at the beach instead of staring out at snowy fields and perishing ducks? Some lucky friends of mine went to Florida this winter. That must be nice, but it's a long way from here so I've lost my lunch buddies for a few months, which isn't nice. And I don't really want to go to Florida so I have to make other plans.
February needs a plan. If you don't have a plan light deprivation or something equally as mind-boggling is going to get you. And when it does, you find yourself on the edge of the blues and if you want to keep from sinking into their murky depths, you better have a plan B. You hibernate of course, but you don't have enough fur to keep you snug all winter and my bladder wouldn't allow that kind of a nap anyway so hibernation for me is not a big option.
I get restless. My limbs keep moving (pacing) my mind races, hatching outlandish story plots for The Great American Novel, tires of that and gets creative with recipes for Super Bowl Sunday. Recipes that later decorate the trash. Miss Kitty just stares at me accusingly. I can read her like a book and she's saying "Would you please curl up and go to sleep? I can't take this jerking around anymore. Do you want me to start climbing curtains?"
No I don't.
I've just caught a glimpse of my hair in the mirror. It's weeks overdue for a cut and it's Sunday and I'm pretty sure my hair dresser won't come over and cut my hair on Super Bowl Sunday. She probably has a life. So I'll cut it myself. This is probably certifiable but there's nobody here to certify me right now and when you live on your own you can pretty much do what you like. So I do.
An hour later I get the idea that I probably should have thought twice. I stare into the mirror turning my head this way and that but no matter how I try to lean it to the left, that piece that's cropped above my left ear just doesn't get any longer and there's no way in hell it's ever going to match the other side. And I don't even want to think about the bangs. To make matters worse, I think my hair dresser's going to Florida to morrow so I'll have to live with this. Oh sh---! Hibernation is out. Scarves are in but I don't want to go out anyway. I want to be in the sunshine, on a beach somewhere where it's toasty warm - with ice cream sundaes.
So I'll just curl up in my lounger and meditate. What else are you going to do? So just tilt your head back, breathe deeply and voila! Blue seas, warm sugar beaches, crooked palms and coconuts. (Think Pina Coladas and pineapples) Seagulls, sandpipers, grilled shrimp and sunshine! I'm at the beach! The hair will grow and one of these days it'll warm up around here. Have a happy February!
But what about me? And all of you out there who want to be at the beach instead of staring out at snowy fields and perishing ducks? Some lucky friends of mine went to Florida this winter. That must be nice, but it's a long way from here so I've lost my lunch buddies for a few months, which isn't nice. And I don't really want to go to Florida so I have to make other plans.
February needs a plan. If you don't have a plan light deprivation or something equally as mind-boggling is going to get you. And when it does, you find yourself on the edge of the blues and if you want to keep from sinking into their murky depths, you better have a plan B. You hibernate of course, but you don't have enough fur to keep you snug all winter and my bladder wouldn't allow that kind of a nap anyway so hibernation for me is not a big option.
I get restless. My limbs keep moving (pacing) my mind races, hatching outlandish story plots for The Great American Novel, tires of that and gets creative with recipes for Super Bowl Sunday. Recipes that later decorate the trash. Miss Kitty just stares at me accusingly. I can read her like a book and she's saying "Would you please curl up and go to sleep? I can't take this jerking around anymore. Do you want me to start climbing curtains?"
No I don't.
I've just caught a glimpse of my hair in the mirror. It's weeks overdue for a cut and it's Sunday and I'm pretty sure my hair dresser won't come over and cut my hair on Super Bowl Sunday. She probably has a life. So I'll cut it myself. This is probably certifiable but there's nobody here to certify me right now and when you live on your own you can pretty much do what you like. So I do.
An hour later I get the idea that I probably should have thought twice. I stare into the mirror turning my head this way and that but no matter how I try to lean it to the left, that piece that's cropped above my left ear just doesn't get any longer and there's no way in hell it's ever going to match the other side. And I don't even want to think about the bangs. To make matters worse, I think my hair dresser's going to Florida to morrow so I'll have to live with this. Oh sh---! Hibernation is out. Scarves are in but I don't want to go out anyway. I want to be in the sunshine, on a beach somewhere where it's toasty warm - with ice cream sundaes.
So I'll just curl up in my lounger and meditate. What else are you going to do? So just tilt your head back, breathe deeply and voila! Blue seas, warm sugar beaches, crooked palms and coconuts. (Think Pina Coladas and pineapples) Seagulls, sandpipers, grilled shrimp and sunshine! I'm at the beach! The hair will grow and one of these days it'll warm up around here. Have a happy February!
Friday, January 25, 2013
Footprints in the Snow.
It's a cold January day and I'm sitting beside the fire watching it snow. Is there anything more peaceful? It's just beginning to mound on the sleeping flowerbeds and coat the bare limbs of the oaks and poplars beside the lake. The lake is covered in white back here in my cove and there's one lone goose perched on an upright log by the shore.
I have a couple of questions. It doesn't seem the right time to bring them up, surrounded by all this beauty as I am, but then cold January days are for reflecting.
A friend of mine recently lost a close friend to suicide. He was in physical and mental distress but no one knew how bad that had become and he must have been too deeply into the indigo of depression to see his way out or to ask for help.
Why can't we see these things happening? How often do we hear, "I had no idea!" or "If I'd known, perhaps I could have helped..." Probably not, I think. Don't you think that by the time anyone realizes things are that bad it's too late for anyone to help? We comfort ourselves with that thought, and then another one pops in. "I could have helped if I'd known he needed help sooner. If he'd only reached out..." My thinking is that it's unlikely that most of us realize how much pain another human being is in unless they reach out and not many of those in trouble will reach out - perhaps because they don't understand the slippery slope they're on. And by the time they do - well, they're too far down the mountain.
Here's what I think about suicide. My belief is that we're all spirits. Long before we took on the mantle of human beings, we were spirit. We still are. Underneath the heavy cloak of earth, we're spirits. I also believe that we came to earth of our own free will, excited to try it out, confident that we could handle this school of very hard knocks.
Many of us can. As hard as this life gets, we plow on to the finish line.Some of us, it seems, may have jumped the gun. Perhaps we're impulsive beings, perhaps we're very young spirits, immature beings who once they arrive here find out this isn't what they had in mind! "Oh my God! Look where I've landed. Will someone please get me out of here?Help!
I think that sometimes this world we live in is just too damn hard. And for some of us there's no making it better. Some are just too tired, too sad, too disappointed and dejected to stay. They had some chances, some good times, but the bad times were just too much for them to handle. So they left. I believe they tried. They were not weak - just overwhelmed. Talented, many of them. Highly intelligent in some cases. It's much easier being pure spirit. And now they are.
Whatever happened, it's nobody's fault.We all have choices to make. We do the best we can. We all have free will and again, we do the best we can with that too.
Sometime all we can do is to love one another. To make things a tiny bit easier on this old earth plain. And if we fall down on that sometimes, well, there's still time to make amends. To pick up and start again on a brand new day.
There's a brand new world outside my window. Pure white and unblemished. The snow is draped like fondant icing as far as I can see. I can't wait to step on it! It'll be like stepping into a whole new wonderland. How will I mark it? I hope that the brand new foot prints I leave are better than the ones behind me. Maybe I'll make an angel - we all need angels. Everyone of us!
I have a couple of questions. It doesn't seem the right time to bring them up, surrounded by all this beauty as I am, but then cold January days are for reflecting.
A friend of mine recently lost a close friend to suicide. He was in physical and mental distress but no one knew how bad that had become and he must have been too deeply into the indigo of depression to see his way out or to ask for help.
Why can't we see these things happening? How often do we hear, "I had no idea!" or "If I'd known, perhaps I could have helped..." Probably not, I think. Don't you think that by the time anyone realizes things are that bad it's too late for anyone to help? We comfort ourselves with that thought, and then another one pops in. "I could have helped if I'd known he needed help sooner. If he'd only reached out..." My thinking is that it's unlikely that most of us realize how much pain another human being is in unless they reach out and not many of those in trouble will reach out - perhaps because they don't understand the slippery slope they're on. And by the time they do - well, they're too far down the mountain.
Here's what I think about suicide. My belief is that we're all spirits. Long before we took on the mantle of human beings, we were spirit. We still are. Underneath the heavy cloak of earth, we're spirits. I also believe that we came to earth of our own free will, excited to try it out, confident that we could handle this school of very hard knocks.
Many of us can. As hard as this life gets, we plow on to the finish line.Some of us, it seems, may have jumped the gun. Perhaps we're impulsive beings, perhaps we're very young spirits, immature beings who once they arrive here find out this isn't what they had in mind! "Oh my God! Look where I've landed. Will someone please get me out of here?Help!
I think that sometimes this world we live in is just too damn hard. And for some of us there's no making it better. Some are just too tired, too sad, too disappointed and dejected to stay. They had some chances, some good times, but the bad times were just too much for them to handle. So they left. I believe they tried. They were not weak - just overwhelmed. Talented, many of them. Highly intelligent in some cases. It's much easier being pure spirit. And now they are.
Whatever happened, it's nobody's fault.We all have choices to make. We do the best we can. We all have free will and again, we do the best we can with that too.
Sometime all we can do is to love one another. To make things a tiny bit easier on this old earth plain. And if we fall down on that sometimes, well, there's still time to make amends. To pick up and start again on a brand new day.
There's a brand new world outside my window. Pure white and unblemished. The snow is draped like fondant icing as far as I can see. I can't wait to step on it! It'll be like stepping into a whole new wonderland. How will I mark it? I hope that the brand new foot prints I leave are better than the ones behind me. Maybe I'll make an angel - we all need angels. Everyone of us!
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Dream Taps - Hellooo!
I think a lot about dreams with messages.
If you're like me, you'll dream a lot sometimes, or a little sometimes, and the dreams are either pretty lukewarm, straight forward flashes of pictures with landscapes and people and actions. Some make sense and some don't.
But every so often you get one that really grabs your attention. It's so real, so vibrant, rings so true that you know in the deepest part of your being that This Wasn't a Dream! And you don't care who says it is, you KNOW that you were there, in the middle of that dream, involved with the people and the dream action. When these dreams happen, I try to figure out what the message was. Usually it's pretty clear but sometimes it take a day or two to sink in.
Four or five night ago, I was sound asleep, minding my own business when one of these dreams dropped in. I was in the presense of two old friends that I had seen or spoken to for months, maybe as long as a year. I'm sure they crossed my mind at some point but it was a very busy time and sadly, I'd neglected them.
But there they were. The wife stood directly in front of me, her husband a little behind her and to one side. "We'll get through this," she was saying and as she spoke I had the real feeling that whatever they were "getting through", had to do with her husband. And then they were gone. The dream ended.
I thought about it a lot the next day, thinking I needed to call and say "Hi" if nothing else. So two days later I did.
When I asked, "How are you guys?" My friend said they were "okay". There was something in her tone (and the dream) that made me say, "Just "okay"?
"Well, not actually," I heard her say. "We're stressed out. But we'll get through this!" It turned out that her husband was going into hospital the next day for some pretty extensive surgery.
She was fine, she said. And she sounded fine so I didn't press it. Then she told me, she actually had a terrible case of shingles. I sympathized with her, hoped she'd be over them soon, and she said she doubted it because they were TERRIBLE!
Try as I might I couldn't find the message here - but it was a message dream I knew. Then, about a week later, lying in bed early one morning I got it. About a year before my sister-in-law lost her husband, he was at our house helping my husband and son shingle the roof of our new garage! That's why, the the dream, I saw him climbing a step ladder up to the roof of a building.
There it was.
So pay attention to these dreams that feel so real that you know deep down they're not really dreams. They have messages.
Sweet dreams, everyone!
If you're like me, you'll dream a lot sometimes, or a little sometimes, and the dreams are either pretty lukewarm, straight forward flashes of pictures with landscapes and people and actions. Some make sense and some don't.
But every so often you get one that really grabs your attention. It's so real, so vibrant, rings so true that you know in the deepest part of your being that This Wasn't a Dream! And you don't care who says it is, you KNOW that you were there, in the middle of that dream, involved with the people and the dream action. When these dreams happen, I try to figure out what the message was. Usually it's pretty clear but sometimes it take a day or two to sink in.
Four or five night ago, I was sound asleep, minding my own business when one of these dreams dropped in. I was in the presense of two old friends that I had seen or spoken to for months, maybe as long as a year. I'm sure they crossed my mind at some point but it was a very busy time and sadly, I'd neglected them.
But there they were. The wife stood directly in front of me, her husband a little behind her and to one side. "We'll get through this," she was saying and as she spoke I had the real feeling that whatever they were "getting through", had to do with her husband. And then they were gone. The dream ended.
I thought about it a lot the next day, thinking I needed to call and say "Hi" if nothing else. So two days later I did.
When I asked, "How are you guys?" My friend said they were "okay". There was something in her tone (and the dream) that made me say, "Just "okay"?
"Well, not actually," I heard her say. "We're stressed out. But we'll get through this!" It turned out that her husband was going into hospital the next day for some pretty extensive surgery.
***
There were actually two of these "drop in" message dreams. The other happened the night before the one I've told you about. In this one I found myself again with three people, my sister-in-law, her deceased husband and me. He was climbing a ladder getting up onto the roof of a building. He had his back to us. She stood directly in front of me and said something I can't for the life of me remember. But I knew there was a message. So I called her. She was fine, she said. And she sounded fine so I didn't press it. Then she told me, she actually had a terrible case of shingles. I sympathized with her, hoped she'd be over them soon, and she said she doubted it because they were TERRIBLE!
Try as I might I couldn't find the message here - but it was a message dream I knew. Then, about a week later, lying in bed early one morning I got it. About a year before my sister-in-law lost her husband, he was at our house helping my husband and son shingle the roof of our new garage! That's why, the the dream, I saw him climbing a step ladder up to the roof of a building.
There it was.
So pay attention to these dreams that feel so real that you know deep down they're not really dreams. They have messages.
Sweet dreams, everyone!
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Happy New Year!
Christmas always comes before New Year's Eve. It's a fact. The more things change the more things stay the same. Yup. We can rely on Christmas coming before January 31st.
Well, this gave me a problem this year and it makes me wonder why we can't celebrate Christmas after January 1st.
Here's why: I was invited to a New Year's Eve Ball on the 31st of December and found the most divine sleek, classical black satin gown (strapless) for the occasion. All it needed was a choker of classically chunky diamonds to set it off as the last word in high fashion. Little pause for thought there as my bank account couldn't quite stretch to accommodate a set of Fink's chunky diamonds, but no problem, rhinestones work quite well, and you don't have to worry about highway robbers. But I digress.
The dress fit like snakeskin - sleek, smooth and satiny with tiny buttons down the back disguising a zipper that would presumably keep it all together and hold everything up. Trouble was I first tried it on two weeks before Christmas and it fit like snake skin. Four weeks later, after a few Christmas parties, a sip of eggnog here and there, a martini one night and Christmas dinner combined with a trip to San Francisco and more than a few sips of Sonoma and Napa wines - not so much.
I began to worry about the dress on the way home from San Francisco. I got onto the plane with my hand luggage bulging with left over truffles and chocolate Santas and my jeans bulging - with me. How could this be? These jeans used to be the most comfortable pants I owned. Did the California water shrink them? Probably not.
When I got home, I couldn't look the skinny dress in the face without daggers of guilt piercing my bulges and did my best to avoid eye-contact with it as I anxiously finished up the chocolate I'd unpacked and started on the Virginia Peanuts and and leftover walnuts in the fridge. This was not good - but the more I thought about it, the more I munched 'til on the morning of the big dance I came to my senses and raced off to Zumba to loose five pounds in one hour. Didn't happen. I tried starving myself all day and at the last moment I took the dress down and tried it on ... drum roll...
Twenty minutes later, with two people tugging and sucking and squeezing, the zipper shot up my back. "Yessss!" I squeaked, because that seemed to be the only sound I could make. I tried to let out a sigh of relief only to find out that sighs are driven by air and I had precious little to spare in my lungs which appeared to be somewhere in the vicinity of my Adam's apple. Or was that my boobs? Whatever, they were quite spectacular in this trussed up mode.
But breathing was definitely a source of concern. I rode to Roanoke to the dance, flattened out in the front seat of the car like a python who's eaten too much - go figure... stretching my lungs out to help with inhalation.
My emergency dress was in the back seat.
The emergency dress was in the back seat in the event that the Old Year went out with a Bang! and I popped out of my sleek black satin like a watermelon pip sometime during the evening.Or worse still, that the zipper split and that silky smooth gown slithered elegantly down my legs pooling in a puddle of elegant black satin around my feet.
"We'll just tell everyone you're part of the entertainment," My date Jim said. "We'll say we couldn't afford a cake so you popped out of your dress instead."
Bad joke. I could feel myself hyperventilating. Smelling salts - I needed smelling salts. Jim didn't think CVS carried them.
***
I needn't have worried about any of this, as it turned out. My posture was perfect (had to be or - Pop!) as I tottered into the ballroom on Jim's arm. The chunky rhinestones sparkled, and I took small wispy breaths and everything was fine.I must write a note to the 3M company (or whoever makes these wonderful zippers) thanking them profusely for their craftsmanship and wishing them a Happy New Year.
Happy New Year to you too. Let's all hope that 2013 exceeds all our best hopes for a really good New Year. The blog is coming back and when it does, there are two new books to tell you about. In the meantime, Love, health and happiness to us all! Chocolates are out for a while, though.
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