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.
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…”
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
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?”
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.
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…
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.
An Unexpected Mystic 