Psychic Perceptions

23. May 2013 · 4 comments · Categories: blog · Tags: , , , , ,

I thought you could read my mind. Don’t you know all of my secrets?

I recently had a good laugh with a client who said that one of her employees was so nervous after meeting me that she came clean about an issue because she thought that I had “read her mind”. What she probably didn’t realize is that a) I walk around with a perpetual questioning look and b) I was thinking long and hard about lunch.

I wonder sometimes over what is assumed to be my work – and feelings about psychics in general. I avoid calling myself “psychic” because it’s such a loaded word — but I totally get why people are afraid, curious or dismissive. After all, I did come out of a conservative Christian background and turned away from anything considered Satanic.

Yet my dreamlife was rich, and imagination just as strong. Biblical stories provoked a natural curiosity: talking animals, prophets who warned of impending disaster, Saul visiting the witch of Endor who called up the spirit of Samuel. Even Jesus creating the loaves and fishes, or calling Lazarus out of the tomb.

That world — the unseen — beckoned and often felt more familiar than the blood and bone derby I was thrust into.

What I’ve learned about being in the “woo world” is that for as many souls who do this work, they are as uniquely gifted. No two healers are the same. I know plenty of people who communicate with animals both living/dead, see and speak to spirits, and feel more comfortable in a graveyard than shopping mall. Plenty who see auras, feel illnesses, and connect to the healing power of gemstones. I know Tarot readers who can easily piece together a stranger’s background through the cards. I’ve met psychics who have predicted future events in my life, described past lifetimes in great detail, and helped locate missing children by touching a piece of cloth. I know of massage therapists who can read the history of a body without their client saying a word.

That’s awe-inspiring. Breathtaking. Truly beautiful gifts that are meant for only one purpose: healing. They didn’t create their gift, and it comes with great responsibility. If those gifts are used for anything other than to heal, those who do so risk stepping out of the bounds of their integrity. It doesn’t mean that certain psychics/intuitives can’t read your energy. It’s just a big cosmic no-no if you haven’t given your permission. (And if you do feel nervous, immediately visualize an energetic shield around yourself.)

It’s easy to fear people who do this work because we’re taught to trust in authorities outside of ourselves: Mommy, Daddy and the big Ps: priest, police, politician and even psychic. We’re taught to expect the worst — and that a psychic will see everything we fear, all of the hidden neuroses emerging into the light.

But don’t worry. I don’t know your secrets, can’t read your mind — and no offense, I don’t want to. I have plenty of my own stuff to focus on. Including lunch.

The Midpoint

21. May 2013 · 8 comments · Categories: blog · Tags: , , , , , , ,

{As it is my birthday week, “The Midpoint” perfectly reflects my thoughts about this wonderful 4th decade…}

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At times, I travel back to my 20s and 30s. It’s the nature of this decade, and my approaching 43rd birthday. Sentiment can be a tricky game, however. I used to scorn mushy types who talked about the “good old days”, as it seemed that they — still alive — had already given up.

There was so much ahead. So much not seen. So many places and people to love. 

I was a woman, restless and unfulfilled. 

Indulge in notions of future or past, and life can turn into the foggy miasma of the 7 of Cups. A tempting chalice just out of reach.

And let’s face it: my 20s and early 30s kind of sucked.

The 40s, I’ve found, are the years of balance.The midpoint of thought, rather than crisis.

The great sages advise to grieve not for what is lost: family, loves, our younger selves – because nothing is actually lost. But memories can often drawn one into a tangled thicket. Can we go to that still vibrating dimension and dial back our regrets? Lay nagging doubts to bed? Revisit the love who slipped away?

A palm reader once revealed that I would peacefully die in my 80s, surrounded by family – the prediction most desire. Not me. In fact, when he said 80, I cringed. Too old. Too long here. I didn’t even inquire about my death but he was nonchalant, as if tidying up a hotel bill. I thought, “What family?”, and immediately felt the old clamps I’ve spent years dismantling. More than likely, I’ll be the last from that particular brood, unless my middle brother decides to outlive me. Who knows? We all run along that strange adoption meridian. Lifelines? Potshots. Medical history? Whatever. Family cancers/dementias? Good luck. I’ve learned to appreciate not knowing the bulletpoints and branches of my existence — and send out beacons to my chosen family.

These thoughts, this particular time of reflection is the smooth, clean refinish of those rough floorboards. The midbeam of desire. It’s the gift of balance, with a careful eye on the landing that is closer than not.

Because in the 40s, you begin to realize that there is no there, no goal that your younger self kept shouting to the disgruntled rowers in your scull. A there is a here is a now. It’s surprising to discover the home in you, with the spicy mix of want without yearning. Fleeting moments of peace, yes – which circle round with surprising regularity. The once dreaded notion of contentment now the balm to a once wounded heart. There are no more parents to please, as the last one begins his passage. There are no more degrees, GPAs, GREs, and perpetual observations – other than your own.

Time now? The knowing smile, skin crinkly under the eyes, spots that begin to darken the backs of hands. Tracks of a life beloved. The clarity in the sheen of silver that catches the afternoon light. It’s the secret of yoga and coconut oil: miracle drugs that renew the body. So is the generous spread of forgiveness over pockets of pain. It’s the ability to look into the mirror and finally, with exquisite care, say, hey, there you are – instead of, where the hell did you go?

And in this great moment where you are neither young or old, as the sun nestles down into the arms of the black walnut, fear gives way to knowledge – the patience of the untethered, the wanderer at rest in a scratched but sturdy Adirondack chair as clouds still play across the edge of a faint blue sky.

Question From an Friend

18. May 2013 · Write a comment · Categories: blog · Tags: , , ,

When you see the future and/or get strong emotions about something or someone, do you have any idea where these energies are coming from outside of yourself?

Sometimes it’s energetically from the person or body who asks for help in healing. Other times, it’s a heads-up that I need to help protect someone. For example, I was walking home recently and a teenage girl passed me, jogging down the same road. A green truck slowly came up behind her and she looked over her shoulder. I was about 30 feet away and kept my eye on the whole scene. I was already sensing something, but even after all of these years, I tend to question myself or think that I’m being judgmental about a potentially innocent occurrence.

An older guy gave her the once over, passing slowly and turning left up my road as she also turned. I thought, ugh, creepy guy but let’s face it: women are objectified every day of our lives. It doesn’t matter the age. There’s always someone checking us out. I picked up my pace and noticed that she looked over her shoulder yet again, as he parked outside of a vacant garage. I know the usual cars in my little neighborhood. It was clear this guy didn’t live around here – though he had VT plates.

As I slowly approached on the other side of the road, I was nervous and kept my sunglasses on. But I was going to look at this guy, no matter how uncomfortable I was, because a feeling kept urging me to protect this girl. Look directly at him, see his face — just to make sure if something were to happen. I have a really good memory and noticed his plate, too. I tilted my sunglasses down and looked directly into his window. He looked right back at me while sipping a coffee and I could feel his nervousness. He probably assumed I’d walk right by as he ostensibly sat at a run-down garage for a coffee break. As soon as I passed him, he took off up the road, turning up the main drag and racing past the girl.

Now, maybe I mistook the whole scene and assumed that something harmful would happen “in the future”. I’ll never know. But I have to trust the energies that protect and surround me. They’ve certainly kept me safe in much more dangerous situations. I look at them as a greater wisdom – whether it’s all of the Me-s who have lived in different lifetimes and advise me now or a combination of spirit guides, ancient wisdom and plain ol’ common sense. And certainly the girl herself, who asked for help in her mannerisms and energy.

I’m not certain of the answer — but I’ve learned to always turn up my intuition when needed. Every time I do this, I learn to trust my decisions even more.

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