Stories about life, love, death, and what comes after.
I was huddled in the corner of the room crying, a blanket over my head. Brenda was next to me in an ER bed, crying from pain. In the midst of chaos and sorrow, a shiny sign from my dead husband. And only hours later, we were laughing so hard the nurses shushed us. “All our darkness will turn to light.” It’s true.
I saw Mike standing completely still at the edge of the cliff, looking out over the rim at the surrounding landscape and I went to him. He was wide-eyed. He looked stunned. Alarmed, I asked, “What happened to you?” And I will never forget what he said, my rational-minded though deeply spiritual husband: “I don’t know but when I got to the top of the cliff, something swept me to my knees. I was overwhelmed with the presence of God and I knew that I had been here before, that I had lived here once.”
My guides, my angels, and a world class spiritual teacher assured me all would be well. And then I fell flat on my face … Life is going to happen, regardless of what we do. I can chant and mantra and vision-board my hopes and dreams and expectations, and it’s great. Those efforts do make me more comfortable in this moment. But life will still unfold as it does, for reasons that will remain mostly unknown until we finally clear out of here.
"Many people I know and love are weeping and some are rejoicing. We *are* the yin-yang symbol being expressed in this human realm. And in each of us, elements of the other, and all of us making up the whole."
“That was the thing in that dusty old building. It was the little something extra in the web Mike was weaving, a little lagniappe that led me to the certainty that these events weren’t simply by chance…”
I can’t breathe. She’s not perfusing. Three words can mark the end of one life and the beginning of another, unwanted one. What do we do with that?
Why would one we’re so close to in life fail to reassure us after death? Since Brenda died, my friend Raven and I have regularly said to one another (a little resentfully, to be honest), “that Brenda, she’s out there helping baby mediums, tickling our other friends on the head, coming through to people who never knew her in life. Where are OUR signs?”
We really are okay even when we don’t feel it. Grief doesn’t mean we’re broken or damaged. We can be healed AND sad, whole, shining, AND feeling alone. A little boy’s eyes reminded me of just how connected we always are, no matter how we may be feeling.
Even when we don’t ask for signs from spirit, we will get them. An anniversary gift from my dead husband, out of the blue. Still right here.
The Audubon guide said “I’ve never seen anything like it. Never. Not this close. Not this early. Not in these numbers. It’s unbelievable.” Only it’s not. Love landed three birds before us and they were a magnet for the rest. Our belief lands the gifts our people send us, and our acceptance is a magnet for more. Trust. Your. Self. Just do it.
An Unexpected Mystic 