Hello, Again

phone

I was driving home from work one day, stop and go, hurry up and wait and I had found that blissful space between leaving the mad, fast pace of work and before landing in the mad, fast pace of home.  I was just floating along, enjoying some CBC 2 and letting the thoughts and worries of the day evaporate.  I don’t admit this to many people, but I really enjoy a good traffic jam.  Being locked in place makes it impossible to do anything but relax and get into that in-between space of meditation, visualization, daydreaming.

I like travel days for the very same reason.

 And doing dishes.

And folding laundry.    Just me?  Really?

So anyways,  I was sitting there, happily zoning when someone whispered in my ear.  Tingles shot up my spine and all along my scalp.  My breath caught and I half laughed, half gasped.  “Wha..!?”

Again the whisper, words as clear as if spoken aloud:  “I sent you a present.  You will receive it tonight.”  I recognized the voice, a voice I hadn’t heard for several years.  A voice I missed terribly.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am fairly used to hearing from my dead friends and relatives.  Quite often they send me things like feathers, and song lyrics.  Sometimes they make the street lights go on right when I am looking at them.  Sometimes they make hummingbirds fly right up to me and look me in the eye.  I’ve even had them whisper messages to me, but never before had it been so loud and clear.

“Hey there, friend.  I’ve missed you”  I whispered back, then got that weird smiling through tears thing.   For the rest of the crawl home, I wondered what this present might be.

I didn’t have to wait long.  I stopped to pick up the mail and there was indeed a big, exciting package in there, addressed to me.  What could it be?  I didn’t recognize the return address and had not ordered anything.  I got home quickly, dumped my stuff on the floor and grabbed some scissors to open the package.

I slipped my hand inside.  It was a book!  I pulled it out, froze for just a moment, then started laughing nearly hysterically.

It was The First Phone Call From Heaven by Mitch Albom.

WTF?!  The book wasn’t even released yet.  I knew that because I had been eagerly anticipating the publishing date.  And yet here I was holding a copy in my hot little hand.  The jacket was not complete, and had things like “insert Author bio here” and stuff like that, but the pages were full and I could hardly wait to start reading it.

How the heck did my beautiful, deceased friend pull this off?  This was a mind boggling mystery.  A real life, honest to goodness, knock your socks off miracle!   And to this day I have no idea why this book was sent to me, or what forces came together to bring me that precious gift.

What it did was solidify my belief that our deceased friends and loved ones are always with us.  The more we trust their signs and gifts, the more they will work to bring us their messages.  Trusting what we see and hear is the first step to opening those lines of communication.  Once we remove the voice of doubt that tells us this is just coincidence or that our imagination is getting carried away, once we open to the possibilities that this is really something, then we will begin to truly open to the communications.  Our loved ones have been knocking on the door, trying to get our attention.  If we start to pay attention we will be amazed at what we notice.

So when you smell your Grandma’s lavender hand cream, or see that the photograph on the mantel of your deceased relative has moved, or find feathers in the strangest places, or dimes and pennies keep showing up, or even when you get a book about Heaven randomly sent to you for no reason,  smile and say hello.  They are.

Hello Out There?

phone

I was driving home from work one day, stop and go, hurry up and wait and I had found that blissful space between leaving the mad, fast pace of work and before landing in the mad, fast pace of home.  I was just floating along, enjoying some CBC 2 and letting the thoughts and worries of the day evaporate.  I don’t admit this to many people, but I really enjoy a good traffic jam.  Being locked in place makes it impossible to do anything but relax and get into that in-between space of meditation, visualization, daydreaming.

I like travel days for the very same reason.

 And doing dishes.

And folding laundry.    Just me?  Really?

So anyways,  I was sitting there, happily zoning when someone whispered in my ear.  Tingles shot up my spine and all along my scalp.  My breath caught and I half laughed, half gasped.  “Wha..!?”

Again the whisper, words as clear as if spoken aloud:  “I sent you a present.  You will receive it tonight.”  I recognized the voice, a voice I hadn’t heard for several years.  A voice I missed terribly.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am fairly used to hearing from my dead friends and relatives.  Quite often they send me things like feathers, and song lyrics.  Sometimes they make the street lights go on right when I am looking at them.  Sometimes they make hummingbirds fly right up to me and look me in the eye.  I’ve even had them whisper messages to me, but never before had it been so loud and clear.

“Hey there, friend.  I’ve missed you”  I whispered back, then got that weird smiling through tears thing.   For the rest of the crawl home, I wondered what this present might be.

I didn’t have to wait long.  I stopped to pick up the mail and there was indeed a big, exciting package in there, addressed to me.  What could it be?  I didn’t recognize the return address and had not ordered anything.  I got home quickly, dumped my stuff on the floor and grabbed some scissors to open the package.

I slipped my hand inside.  It was a book!  I pulled it out, froze for just a moment, then started laughing nearly hysterically.

It was The First Phone Call From Heaven by Mitch Albom.

WTF?!  The book wasn’t even released yet.  I knew that because I had been eagerly anticipating the publishing date.  And yet here I was holding a copy in my hot little hand.  The jacket was not complete, and had things like “insert Author bio here” and stuff like that, but the pages were full and I could hardly wait to start reading it.

How the heck did my beautiful, deceased friend pull this off?  This was a mind boggling mystery.  A real life, honest to goodness, knock your socks off miracle!   And to this day I have no idea why this book was sent to me, or what forces came together to bring me that precious gift.

What it did was solidify my belief that our deceased friends and loved ones are always with us.  The more we trust their signs and gifts, the more they will work to bring us their messages.  Trusting what we see and hear is the first step to opening those lines of communication.  Once we remove the voice of doubt that tells us this is just coincidence or that our imagination is getting carried away, once we open to the possibilities that this is really something, then we will begin to truly open to the communications.  Our loved ones have been knocking on the door, trying to get our attention.  If we start to pay attention we will be amazed at what we notice.

So when you smell your Grandma’s lavender hand cream, or see that the photograph on the mantel of your deceased relative has moved, or find feathers in the strangest places, or dimes and pennies keep showing up, or even when you get a book about Heaven randomly sent to you for no reason,  smile and say hello.  They are.

The Empty Chair

800px-Charles_Green01

The table is set with the finest china and crystal.  My Izzy has outdone herself.  She works diligently to keep our family happy during this holiday season, though in the moments she allows herself to be still she suffers the pain of her broken heart.  She cloaks herself in noise and chaos to keep such moments at bay.

It has been a day of delightful surprises.  Shiny coins hidden away for the children to happen upon.   A lovely red cardinal for Izzy and the girls singing through the kitchen window, bright red against the bleak winter.  And now a fresh blanket of snow to brighten the dark night.

The family sits.   William, my son,  looks diminished somehow, as if the past year has taken some of the air out of him.  His wife, Clara fusses over their daughters, tying bibs and settling them in.   Faith and  Temperance pass bowls of steaming vegetables and soft white buns.  Hudson and Hinton argue with good nature over who shall carve.  Hinton, the eldest, prevails.  The older grandchildren giggle at their tiny table, set beside the fireplace while the younger babes are tended next to their parents.   All have gathered for the feast.  It is a typical scene, one we’ve acted out so many times before, but this time there is a great difference.  This time the room is filled with the presence of the empty chair.  Nobody speaks of it but its presence will not be denied.  They carve, and serve and pour and cut and sip and laugh and talk, comforting sights and sounds.  Their faces glow in the shimmering candle light, tentative joy, tentative sorrow.

I wonder if they know how happy I am to have them all here.

Hinton, my son, finally raises his glass.  His face freezes as he fights emotion.   After a moment he smiles, and toasts the empty chair.  The others join him.   Family.  We come together in good times and in bad.  We share the love and laughter and we hold each other tightly through the tears.

“To our lovely Mother, may her spirit rest.  There is surely a feast in Heaven tonight!”  They smile.   They tap their glasses and wipe their tears.  And soon the memories start and there is laughter.

I sit here in this empty chair, abiding love.  Yes … there truly is a feast in Heaven tonight.

 

Set Me Free

pink-bird-cage

“You wander from room to room hunting for the diamond necklace that is already around your neck.”   Rumi

My niece, Tree Bunny (not her real name. My brother is not a hippy) has recently begun the minimalist 21 day experiment.   In the challenge a person packs up everything they own and sticks it in a room.  Then items are removed from that room only as needed.  Day one you may want to go get your toothbrush, and some clean underwear.  Perhaps a dish, some cutlery and a pot the next morning when you want to have oatmeal for breakfast.  And slowly you replace only the things you truly need and use into your daily life.

I have to admit that this paring life down to stark nothingness strangely appeals to me.

Tree Bunny is mostly through the challenge.  She has exactly one plate, one bowl, one fork, spoon and knife, one mug, one week’s worth of clothes, 2 books (omg that gives me palpitations… 2 books??) and just a few incidental items, like toiletries and towels.  Her groceries are purchased with absolutely no waste allowed.  If she knows she will eat 2 bananas and 1 apple, that is what she buys.  In her words, this experiment has blown her mind.  It is “so surprisingly freeing and feels soooo good.” She has kept two pictures for her walls because she loves them and they are pretty, but basically “everything else had to go”.  She can pack her entire life into one trunk and she is blissfully happy about that.

I would wager big bucks that this bunny was a monk in a past life.  But I digress.

The important things in life aren’t things.  I know this.  I try to live this, engendering a more “need” than “want” mentality when I shop.  Stuff can accumulate so easily.  This fact was never more apparent than in early April when we moved from Kelowna to Cranbrook.  My American Husband and I had made strides to simplify our lifestyle, or so we thought, but still we ended up with more boxes full of stuff than would fit in the biggest truck the moving company had to offer.  Where did it all come from?  Is that what happens when you leave two boxes alone in a dark room?

So I have decided to take a page from Tree Bunny’s book (one of the two she kept).  I don’t necessarily feel the need to pare down so drastically, but pare down I must.  No more “This might come back in style” or “What if we need it one day?”  And really, will I fix that broken thing that has been collecting dust for 3 years?  It’s time to get busy.  It’s time to release everything that  I no longer need.  If I don’t use it, or love it, then I am getting rid of it.

Except my books.  Naturally.

The more stuff we accumulate the greater our obligation to store it, house it, clean it, pay for it, and protect it.  These things we desire become the pretty bars in the cage they create for us, shiny and gilded perhaps, but locking us in nonetheless.  Every morning we wake up too early, rush out of our big house, careful to lock the door to keep all of our stuff safe, then head off in the car we are still making payments on to sit in an office doing a job (that let’s be honest, we probably dislike) so that we can make the money to pay for the car and the house and the stuff that sit empty all day.

What kind of madness have we created for ourselves?

When did the accumulation of things begin to outweigh the importance of free time, leisure, relaxation and family?  Did the money we spent to impress the neighbours bring us the satisfaction we presumed it would? Of course the neighbours we are trying to impress are so busy trying to impress us they barely notice.  In literature we call that “irony”.

Hand me the keys to this prison, I want out!  I have closets to clean and boxes to empty.  I have a whole wardrobe of outfits that hang there waiting patiently while day in and day out I wear about 10% of the clothes I own.  I have boxes in my basement that have made it through three moves without ever being unpacked.  Thank goodness the Matrix has a huge trunk space because things are about to get real.

And my battle cry?

If I don’t love it, or use it…. hasta la vista baby.

With a Little Help From My Friend

SewingAngel~LM2[1]

“Good-byes are only for those who love with their eyes.  Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation.” Rumi

Before my friend Janice passed away I had very little knowledge or experience with after-death communication.  Looking back now I realize that those times in my youth where I would suddenly smell that distinct aroma of my grandmother’s home… baking pie, cinnamon, pipe tobacco and just a hint of talcum powder, that it had to be Grandma popping in to say hello.  Or those incredibly vivid dreams when I would awaken from sitting at the table and drinking tea with my Grandpa, and know that he had come for a nice nighttime visit.  Back then I attributed things like that to coincidence, or imagination, or just too strange to be true.

But then Janice crossed over in such a dramatic fashion and I was simply jarred awake to a new level of perception.  In the months that followed I would experience communications and signs that would leave no doubt in my mind that Janice was reaching across the veil and carrying on the conversation we’d started here on this earthly plain.

Way back when my daughter was 7 years old she became involved in a production of Les Miserables put on by our local high school theatre company.  I would pick her up and drop her off at rehearsals and was always very impressed by the dedicated teachers and volunteers who worked tirelessly with this big group of kids.   I had been a theatre major in University and it was years since I had taken part in anything theatrical.  I asked my girl to let me know if she heard of anyone needing help because I would be happy to volunteer.  I was suddenly very excited to get involved in the theatre again after so many years.  Just as long as it wasn’t costumes.   I hated doing costuming.

“Mama, this lady needs help”, my daughter pulled me by the hand and introduced me to Janice.  Bazinga!  Instant recognition.  We were laughing and joking within the first five minutes, and I knew that I was going to have a great time working with her.

And of course, she was the Costume Designer.  Sigh.  Ahhhh well, it was time to dust off the sewing machine, load up the glue gun and fire up the bedazzler, because apparently I was going to make some costumes.

We worked closely together for the next few years.  Janice was the brilliant visionary, pulled by the creative muse that had her flitting from project to project haphazardly.  I was the organizer.  I kept her on task (some of the time), looking after the details so that she could concentrate on the BIG PICTURE.  We were the perfect pair.  I was the Laurel to her Hardy, the Captain to her Tenille, the Tweedle Dum to her Tweedle Dee.  Through production after production we worked diligently, getting hundreds of costumes built, compiled, organized, fitted, ironed, hung up, cleaned and stored away.  The tasks were daunting but we had a group of willing and able volunteers to work with us and show after show we managed to get it all done and looking pretty damn good, too.

But then…. Janice left this world suddenly, during intermission at Beauty and the Beast.  One moment we were laughing together and the next she was gone.  Aortic aneurism, they told us.  It was instant and painless, and she was doing what she most loved in the world.  Her last moments of this lifetime were spent in pure joy.  We would have chosen to keep her here with us many more years, but as far as exits go, she picked a great one.

After the immediacy of the departure, we were faced with getting through the production, helping the kids handle their shock and grief, helping to plan the celebration of her life, and the myriad details that all of those things entailed.  The next few weeks were a blur.  Catching our breath, the three remaining members of the production team began to consider the future.  Who would be the new costume designer?     Would we even be able to continue on as we had been, mounting productions with 100 + kids?  Janice had been a vital part of the team and how could we go on without her expertise?

And that is how I became a Costume Designer.  I volunteered.  And they gratefully accepted.  What the heck had I gotten myself into?

The spring production was Anything Goes.  The size of the cast was just under 100.  The number of costumes needed would be over 400 and of that number about 200 would have to be created from scratch.  I would need to learn how to design a sailor uniform that could be mass produced, design a full, matching wardrobe for Reno Sweeney and her Angels, source 40 pair of tap shoes and keep it all under budget.  Oh yes.  And work full time at my day job while doing it all.

What me, worry?

Funny things happen when you have an Angel on your side.  I began noticing little things.  I would think to myself, “I sure would like to get some matching fur coats for Reno’s gals” then *poof* I would walk into the thrift store and find 4 matching vintage minks for $20 each.  I would need a pin striped gangster suit with matching hat and *shazam* there would be one in the perfect size hanging up with the randomly donated graduation dresses.  Capes, bonnets, bows, velvet, sequins, knowledge, volunteers, sailor hats, and everything I needed or wanted began to show up in the craziest ways.

There is one thing that still makes me shake my head in wonder.  I needed a long length of fake white fur, about 3 inches wide, to trim out one of Reno’s travel outfits.  I had just designed the outfit and not surprisingly the perfect polka dot fabric had shown up in the clearance bin at the fabric shop, the exact right hat had fallen off the top shelf of the costume storage locker and the coolest brass sailor buttons had shown up in my sewing basket (I still don’t know where they came from).  I was rummaging through bags of notions that Janice had stored in her basement.  I pulled out a big bag and inside was, you guessed it, white fake fur.  But the really amazing thing?  It was a long strip of 3 inch wide fabric that was the exact perfect length to finish Reno’s outfit.  I kid you not.

Thanks Janice.

For many more productions, projects and creations I have enjoyed Janice’s help.  She always seems to bring me what I need, helps me figure out how to create what is needed and never stops making me laugh at her shenanigans.

And sometimes I still hear her giggling in my ear, “Suck it up buttercup, it’s time to get things done”.

Janice

“I always say to people when they lose someone, ‘Now you have an angel you can call by name,'” Oprah Winfrey

A Little Help From My Friend

“I always say to people when they lose someone, ‘Now you have an angel you can call by name,'” Oprah Winfrey

Before my friend Janice passed away I had very little knowledge or experience with after-death communication.  Looking back now I realize that those times in my youth where I would suddenly smell that distinct aroma of my grandmother’s home… baking pie, cinnamon, pipe tobacco and just a hint of talcum powder, that it had to be Grandma popping in to say hello.  Or those incredibly vivid dreams when I would awaken from sitting at the table and drinking tea with my Grandpa, and know that he had come for a nice nighttime visit.  Back then I attributed things like that to coincidence, or imagination, or just too strange to be true.

But then Janice crossed over in such a dramatic fashion and I was simply jarred awake to a new level of perception.  In the months that followed I would experience communications and signs that would leave no doubt in my mind that Janice was reaching across the veil and carrying on the conversation we’d started here on this earthly plain. 

Way back when my daughter was 7 years old she became involved in a production of Les Miserables put on by our local high school theatre company.  I would pick her up and drop her off at rehearsals and was always very impressed by the dedicated teachers and volunteers who worked tirelessly with this big group of kids.   I had been a theatre major in University and it was years since I had taken part in anything theatrical.  I asked my girl to let me know if she heard of anyone needing help because I would be happy to volunteer.  I was suddenly very excited to get involved in the theatre again after so many years.  Just as long as it wasn’t costumes.   I hated doing costuming.

“Mama, this lady needs help”, my daughter pulled me by the hand and introduced me to Janice.  Bazinga!  Instant recognition.  We were laughing and joking within the first five minutes, and I knew that I was going to have a great time working with her.

And of course, she was the Costume Designer.  Sigh.  Ahhhh well, it was time to dust off the sewing machine, load up the glue gun and fire up the bedazzler, because apparently I was going to make some costumes.

We worked closely together for the next few years.  Janice was the brilliant visionary, pulled by the creative muse that had her flitting from project to project haphazardly.  I was the organizer.  I kept her on task (some of the time), looking after the details so that she could concentrate on the BIG PICTURE.  We were the perfect pair.  I was the Laurel to her Hardy, the Captain to her Tenille, the Tweedle Dum to her Tweedle Dee.  Through production after production we worked diligently, getting hundreds of costumes built, compiled, organized, fitted, ironed, hung up, cleaned and stored away.  The tasks were daunting but we had a group of willing and able volunteers to work with us and show after show we managed to get it all done and looking pretty damn good, too. 

But then…. Janice left this world suddenly, during intermission at Beauty and the Beast.  One moment we were laughing together and the next she was gone.  Aortic aneurism, they told us.  It was instant and painless, and she was doing what she most loved in the world.  Her last moments of this lifetime were spent in pure joy.  We would have chosen to keep her here with us many more years, but as far as exits go, she picked a great one.

After the immediacy of the departure, we were faced with getting through the production, helping the kids handle their shock and grief, helping to plan the celebration of her life, and the myriad details that all of those things entailed.  The next few weeks were a blur.  Catching our breath, the three remaining members of the production team began to consider the future.  Who would be the new costume designer?     Would we even be able to continue on as we had been, mounting productions with 100 + kids?  Janice had been a vital part of the team and how could we go on without her expertise?

And that is how I became a Costume Designer.  I volunteered.  And they gratefully accepted.  What the heck had I gotten myself into?

The spring production was Anything Goes.  The size of the cast was just under 100.  The number of costumes needed would be over 400 and of that number about 200 would have to be created from scratch.  I would need to learn how to design a sailor uniform that could be mass produced, design a full, matching wardrobe for Reno Sweeney and her Angels, source 40 pair of tap shoes and keep it all under budget.  Oh yes.  And work full time at my day job while doing it all.

What me, worry?

Funny things happen when you have an Angel on your side.  I began noticing little things.  I would think to myself, “I sure would like to get some matching fur coats for Reno’s gals” then *poof* I would walk into the thrift store and find 4 matching vintage minks for $20 each.  I would need a pin striped gangster suit with matching hat and *shazam* there would be one in the perfect size hanging up with the randomly donated graduation dresses.  Capes, bonnets, bows, velvet, sequins, knowledge, volunteers, sailor hats, and everything I needed or wanted began to show up in the craziest ways. 

There is one thing that still makes me shake my head in wonder.  I needed a long length of fake white fur, about 3 inches wide, to trim out one of Reno’s travel outfits.  I had just designed the outfit and not surprisingly the perfect polka dot fabric had shown up in the clearance bin at the fabric shop, the exact right hat had fallen off the top shelf of the costume storage locker and the coolest brass sailor buttons had shown up in my sewing basket (I still don’t know where they came from).  I was rummaging through bags of notions that Janice had stored in her basement.  I pulled out a big bag and inside was, you guessed it, white fake fur.  But the really amazing thing?  It was a long strip of 3 inch wide fabric that was the exact perfect length to finish Reno’s outfit.  I kid you not.

Thanks Janice.

For many more productions, projects and creations I have enjoyed Janice’s help.  She always seems to bring me what I need, helps me figure out how to create what is needed and never stops making me laugh at her shenanigans. 

And sometimes I still hear her giggling in my ear, “Suck it up buttercup, it’s time to get things done”. 

SewingAngel~LM2[1]

A Feather on the Breath of God

“There is the Music of Heaven in all things and we have forgotten how to hear it until we sing.”  Hildegard of Bingen

I’ve got a secret. 

I have been coming out of the spiritual closet incrementally for a few years now.  Sure, it all began with a pretty big splash.  Dr. Wayne Dyer received my letter and was moved by it enough that he asked to publish it in his book Wishes Fulfilled.  Millions of people have now read about my experience, and happily most of those people are strangers.  Because of this letter I had to show my immediate family just how high my freak flag can fly.   Luckily, it turns out that most of my relatives have had similar experiences and once I opened the dialogue to the weird and wonderful, their stories have come out as well.  I can’t begin to tell you how happy that has made me.

But since that big splash it has been baby steps, just showing a little bit of my crazy at a time.  It is a bit like walking into a cold lake, slowly easing into the depths so that I can get used to the temperature a little bit at a time.  Ankle deep, feet didn’t freeze off?  Excellent, now let’s see about these knees.  Lately I’ve been thinking, why not go all in?  What have I got to lose, really?  So….

<takes a deep breath and……………. *SPLASH*>

Secret #1:

I see dead people.

Okay I don’t typically see them, though that has happened on a few memorable occasions (for instance once I was at a friend’s house enjoying some live entertainment by a bunch of theatre alumni.  I looked up and saw her deceased husband watching the kids singing.  He had such a huge smile on his face!  Amazing.) 

But mostly I just hear them, only not with my ears, if you get what I’m saying.  I hear them in my mind, their voices very distinctly their own.  Usually they are there to say “hey, things are great here, don’t worry about me” and sometimes they bring very specific messages.  I have sometimes shared the message with the person it is meant for, but a lot of times I haven’t.  I regret that.  I regret that I let my own fears of being judged stop me from relaying messages that might have brought some comfort to the recipient. 

So from this moment forward I vow to you and to myself that I will relay whatever messages come my way.  No more regrets.

Secret #2:

I see Angels.

I don’t understand why it is that this confession makes me feel the most vulnerable but this is one I’ve kept close to myself with a very few exceptions.  Perhaps it is the linear thinking cynic that still lurks in my brain.  Perhaps it is because I wasn’t raised with any sort of religious structure so to believe in such things must be ludicrous, right? 

Whatever the reason, I will share with you now that I see Angels, sometime as visual specters and sometimes I see them with my mind’s eye.  I know that Archangel Michael stands behind my daughter and has done her whole life.  I see Archangel Gabriel sitting with me when I write.  I have seen four angels surrounding a very dear friend of mine, holding her arms and legs, not so much to hold her up as to keep her from flying away.  Sometimes I sense they are near and see sparkles of different colored lights. 

A few years ago after they became quite vivid in my experience, I decided to ask for a definite, without-a-doubt sign that they were actually real and not just the workings of my over arching imagination. 

My family and I were heading to the beach that day.  I was in a playful mood and just before leaving I said out loud, “Angels, bring me a $5 bill today.  Have somebody place it in my hand before the end of the day.”  This may not seem like much of a test to some of you, but for me it was a pretty challenging task for my Angel buddies.  You see, I never carry cash and always use debit for any purchase.  For me to be handed $5 would literally have to be “pennies from Heaven”.  Plus, we were going to the beach.  What were the chances?

I truly believed they could pull this off.  I suppose that was the key.

My American Husband and I had been out for a swim and were walking back toward the shore.  I kept looking to the sky because there was this one amazing cloud that looked just like a giant Angel wing.  I was laughing to myself, thinking ‘You sneaky Angels.  Nice sign, now show me the money’.  I looked down and saw something strange in the water.  My American Husband had seen it too and reached down to grab it. 

It was a $10 bill. 

I laughed out loud and reached for it, but he pulled it out of my reach.  I explained to him that this was my $10 bill because I had asked the Angels for $5 and they were obviously being generous. 

“No this is my $10 bill.  If you wanted $10 you should have asked for $10”.

We kidded and joked for the afternoon, enjoying the sunshine.  I kept checking the sky to see if the angel cloud had blown off, but it stayed right where it was the whole time.  I could almost hear those mischievous cherubs laughing.

After a few more hours we packed up and went home.  As we were leaving I took a photograph of the cloud.  I never wanted to forget this day, or this sign.  When we got home, my American Husband came up to me as I was unpacking the cooler.  He held out his hand to me and in it was a crisp $5 bill.  Placing it in my hand, he said, “There.  The Angels said to give you half”.

Boom.  Well done, Angels! 

I still have the $5.  I never wanted to spend such an amazing, miraculous gift.

I talk to the Angels now, everyday.  I ask them for help with just about everything.  I look for and find their signs and guidance in all sorts of places.  It has changed the way I walk through life.  I never feel alone, and I know that I am always supported.  And if I listen very closely, sometimes I can hear them singing….

“Lean on me, when you’re not strong, I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on”.

Secret #3

I have had visitations from Ascended Masters.

The first time it happened I was meditating.  I was fairly new to the process and was getting quite adept at emptying out all of the noise.  On this particular night I was sitting and really digging the stillness.   Then something weird started happening.  I could “see”, floating right in front of me, a woman.  She looked like some sort of Buddhist or Hindu statue, like a goddess,  and she was just hovering there in front of me.  I tried to make her go away, following my breath and silently chanting Om Mani Padme Hum, the mantra I had read about online.  But instead of going away, she came closer, reaching out her hand and touching it to my heart. I felt instantly flooded with love, so much so that tears began to run down my face.  Alright, I decided.  Let’s just go with it.

“Who are you?” 

Immediately, loudly, this line from a song played in my brain: “Flowers in her hair. Flowers everywhere.”

Well that doesn’t help me at all.  So I turned to the greatest spiritual tool I had at that time, Google, and started searching.  I knew what she looked like and that there was something about flowers in her hair so I began by searching images.  It took me very little time to find her, God love Google.  She was Quan Yin.  I had never heard of her and figured that if she was going to show up for me in a meditation I’d better study up to see if she was bringing me some sort of message. 

Turns out she is a Bodhisattva (literally a Being of Enlightenment) who, according to legend decided to forgo the bliss of Nirvana and hang around humanity to help us fulfill our own divine plans.  She is an Ascended Master associated with the lotus flower and unbeknownst to me at the time, Om Mani Padme Hum roughly translates to “Hail the Jewel in the Lotus” and is used by devotees to call Quan Yin for assistance.

I’m not gonna lie to you.  It was a pretty awesome experience. 

She was the first Ascended Master and since then I have had a few more.  Buddha showed up once during my Reiki attunement.  And not long ago a fellow who called himself Yeshua began dropping by during my morning meditations. 

Then there is the White Dolphin.  He has come to me in lucid dreams in the past few weeks.  I am not sure who or what he is, but I know that every visit feels like a visit from heaven.  Pure, divine love. 

Maybe I am not meant to understand everything. Maybe magic and mysticism are the keys that open the door to better understanding.  All I know is that these moments have been sacred, playful, comforting and enlightening.  I’ve gone beyond disbelief and cynicism and embraced the gifts that these visions have brought to my life.  With each new experience I am broadened, deepened, filled in and awakened. 

Speaking of Ascended Masters, my friend Joan sent me a quote yesterday by St. Francis of Assisi.  “It is no use walking anywhere to preach unless our walking is our preaching”.  I hadn’t heard that one before and it resounded loudly.  I have known for some time that I needed to share everything, or at least to stop hiding it.  I don’t expect to change anyone’s belief system or to convert anyone to mine.  I only want to speak my truth and walk my path fearlessly. 

One last Secret:

I have complete faith that this information will be found and embraced by the people who are open to receive it.  That is the greatest part of “letting go and letting God”.  Simply trusting.