Stories about life, love, death, and what comes after.
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?”
I heard the last beat of her heart, my little dog. She was here, here, here. And then not. It seems impossible, the finality of that. And then she came back to me…
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…”
Eight years ago I prayed to get out of this living hell so I could be with Mike again. Today, in the same Mike-free world, I'm prone to ending texts and emails with "I love this life!" We are here, our loved ones are Here, and it's all the same. There is nothing to fear. The heartbeat of Love is eternal.
I've spent the summer completing the most monumental task, one I never actually dreamed I could finally put to rest. I have written almost nothing in that time but on this day that I'm finally done, this memory popped up on Facebook. It's fitting, because two years ago when I wrote this, I'd just finished … Continue reading ch-ch-ch-changes
"That any of us get through this crazy human existence is a miracle. Best to hold tight and laugh and holler as much as we can. The waves ~ of grief, of trauma, of sadness, of all of it, the good stuff too ~ rush over us, but they also recede. There is joy to be found in sticking together."
My mother vanished 49 years ago. And then she came back from the dead. Mediumship is so healing. This is how I came to believe.
"... What, after all, would be banging on the window on a quiet street at midnight? Brad opened the front door a few inches, peeked out, and suddenly there was a wild onslaught of heavy feathered body and flapping wings. A "really big" bird hurtled through the few inches of opening and shot into the house."
Our loved ones in spirit will always be available when the stories of us need the stories of them to keep moving forward, to heal from grief, to feel the love again of those we've lost. The universe really is a hologram. It's all there, ready and waiting for a spark of energy -- a thought -- to create; for some aspect of the One to shine forth. We'll all go Home one day, dropping our costumes, waking up from the dream, and then we'll once again see our Self as the blindingly beautiful One that we are.
Years ago, about seven months after my husband died, I was driving across town on a glorious spring day, top down on my little car. I was thinking of the circumstances of Mike’s illness and death, of the countless instances of extreme neglect and serious errors which led to cardiac arrest, subsequent kidney failure and, … Continue reading forgiving the unforgivable
An Unexpected Mystic 