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.

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

At the Beach.

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!

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.  
 

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!  

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!

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.

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.

*** 

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.
                                                            ***

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.

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.