Stories about life, love, death, and what comes after.
In my pre-meditation reading (30 minutes for my SAD lamp to work its magic), I’ve been slowly rereading Roland Merullo’s “Lunch with Buddha.” I’ve been reading it for this passage, which comes at the end. (ALL of the Buddha books are fantastic. If you can’t stomach books on spirituality, these are novels, beautifully written, chock … Continue reading no regrets
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?”
The ancient mystics knew the truth about death: crushing grief can lead us to healing, to alignment with what our souls already know. And then “we wake up laughing…”
Twenty nine years ago, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, a young man I loved was found dead in a ditch in north Tulsa, shot three times in the back of the head.
Life’s kind of crazy right now in a lot of ways. This podcast with Kristi Peck and medium Sandy Soulsister is a joyous escape from the ordinary, a reminder that there really is magic afoot in this world and we are that.
The whales' performance told me that. My husband confirmed the message. The sunbeam in my hands was a promise that nothing has changed in the last year, despite everything changing. It's so hard sometimes to quiet the roar of earthly life, but when we do, it's all right there: comfort, assurance, certainty, unbreakable connection. Reason to relax and just be. Truly, all is so very, very well. We are safe, held in a love beyond what we can begin to comprehend in our humanness. Trust. Everything's okay, even when it doesn't always feel like it.
Gifts from spirit are everywhere when we open our hearts and minds.
“Instead of shooting through the front windshield to crush my skull against that house-sized hunk of metal, I crawled out of that car with only a burn on my neck from the seatbelt. I remember leaving Frank's Little Hut in Montrose as I'd done a dozen unbelted nights before. I remember pulling that seatbelt around me; doing it and wondering why at the same time. Guided. Always.”
Suddenly, the room hushed and there was a weird change in the atmosphere. The clatter of cutlery on plates, the voices of those near me, the traffic passing by on Cherry Street, all of those sounds became muffled and there was a feeling of density in the air. At the same time the sound changed, everyone around me lost the vividness of their human suits and I could see with perfect clarity that there is nothing between us.
An Unexpected Mystic 