Stories about life, love, death, and what comes after.
“…then I fell flat on my face and heard every bit of that too. … And isn’t that the perfect metaphor for life? Peace, beauty, something fearsome, magic, seemingly at every turn, and then a wholly unanticipated wallop that lays us flat out.”
How we can see things that allegedly aren’t there, according to the Human Rule Set (lies, for the most part, trickery to allow us to forget who we are), is something I don’t understand. But that I have seen things and experienced things deemed impossible is enough.
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
“And then it was as if the roof was lifted off the chapel and there was a soft sort of whooshing, a feeling of expansion, and I instantly knew I wasn’t alone. I felt the expansion around me but also IN me. I heard a voice …”
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…”
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 process of muddling through this life, of awakening again, isn't finding some outside truth or healing experience, it is excavating the truth of who we are, of shedding the layers of untruths and stories and experiences misinterpreted.”
"... I've been trying to comprehend why we come back. Truly, to listen to my loved ones from the other side, to read the accounts of near death experiencers, even to have been immersed in my own holy STEs, why? What kind of nitwit leaves that for this?"
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.
When Mike died I became Homeless. I didn’t actually know what to call it then. I only remember how bereft I felt hearing the last beat of his heart, how it changed everything. The world at 3 pm on September 23, 2012, was vastly different from the world one heartbeat later. It even looked different. … Continue reading home again
An Unexpected Mystic 