Comfrey Comfort

09. June 2011 · 2 comments · Categories: blog · Tags: ,

Why is it that children so easily believe in fairies? Spirits? Angels?

Why is it that as adults, we often have to go through a period of re-belief?

I recently did a reading for a woman who was just exiting a very dark period. Serious heartbreak and a deep disappointment in the promise of life. I did see brightness and real possibilities soon to enter but wasn’t sure if she quite believed me. Yet she had enough hope (or politeness) to listen.

After the session, we strolled around her lovely farm while the geese waddled nearby. The flowers were in full bloom with the flirty peonies as sassy as ever. My client pointed up to a swath of vegetation surrounding her front door and said, “Comfrey. It’s taking over the garden this year. It’s never been like this before. I’ve got to cut it back.”

If you know me, you know I work in symbols. A cigar is never just a cigar. More »

A Sense of Wonder

06. June 2011 · 2 comments · Categories: blog · Tags: , , , , , ,

I’ve stopped reading books on how to find God.

Everything I need to know about God/dess is revealed through Nature, if I’m willing to sit and listen.

The magical elixir? A sense of wonder. It’s impossible to experience la dolce vita without it.

Clients constantly ask me: how can I connect more to my soul? How do I find God? What’s my higher purpose?

Quite frankly, I don’t know. It’s not for me to answer. I wouldn’t even presume — but I do believe that those are some of the greatest questions one can ask.

Often I use the example of Siddhartha. After years of fruitlessly seeking enlightenment, he returns with a broken heart to his teacher Vasudeva, who encourages him to listen to the river. It is there, sitting on the bank, when he finally hears “Om”.

Me? I don’t exactly hear “Om” when I sit in my weathered Adirondack (more like cats crying for food), but I listen. I listen, even when my interior landscape rages from somewhat peaceful to outright chaotic. I listen to the frogs trill and the peepers peep. I listen to the whine of the mosquitoes around my ears. I listen to the birds gossip before bed and the wood thrush sing the last note. I hear cars approach and coyotes chattering — all to fall silent if I wait long enough.

I remember to ask: “What do you need, heart?” More »

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