The Blog

Thank You For Being a Friend

Thank you for being a friend… The first lines of the theme music for Golden Girls. I used to watch the show occasionally, enjoying the sassy banter and cutting edge humor coming from the sweet old ladies. Just the other day I realized something unsettling. When the show premiered, one of the GGs was younger than I am right now.


The others were older of course, by at least 10 years, but not Blanche. When I realized this, I spent some time hyperventilating, but after calming down I did take comfort in the fact that Blanche was a sexy beast.

The show was popular for a lot of reasons, but for me the most important appeal was the relationships between the women. Adult friendship, simple and complex, becomes more and more important as we grow into our golden years (which are still DECADES away, of course, but I like to plan ahead). Our kids grow up and fly the nest, making lives of their own. Our spouse, if we are lucky, can be one of our closest friends. But it is that intricate, beautiful coming together of fabulous women that fills me up and makes my heart sing.

Setting the clear intention last year to find likeminded friends, I realized the other night, as I ate deep fried pickles and drank beer with my “knitting” club, that my wishes had been fulfilled, and beyond my wildest dreams. My life has become rich and abundant with friends. Beautiful women gathering to laugh and talk, cry and hug, love and accept each other unconditionally. It is with our friends that we can drop the roles we play: Mom, Wife, Employee, Daughter… and simply be who we are.

I have been told that it is more difficult to make friends as we get older. A year ago I would have agreed with that statement. Today I would beg to differ. There are so many of us who are hoping to find each other. We just need to know where to look. Here are a few tricks I have learned along the way:

  1. Begin by saying yes. If you are invited anywhere to do anything, instead of caving to the lure of the sweatpants, Netflix and no bra, get dressed and go do the thing that you are invited to do. Put the effort to show up. Proximity is a breeding ground for friendships.
  2. Join stuff. Volunteer, sign up for a painting class, go to yoga, join a book club. There is a lot going on in every community. Put yourself out there and join things. You will meet so many new and interesting people that there are bound to be some kindred souls just waiting to be discovered.
  3. Step out of your comfort zone. Reach out to others. Invite someone for coffee. Go audition for community theatre. By being brave and stepping outside of the comfort zone, we are showing the Universe that we are making a concerted effort to create what we hope to see. The Universe is really great at meeting us more than half way. Taking steps in the direction of what we want always sets things in motion.
  4. Smile. You are beautiful when you smile. People are attracted to your gorgeous energy. By smiling you turn on your inner light so that others can really see you. Know that everything you are imagining is on its way to you now, so you have a very good reason to smile.

I love each circle of friends that I have. My book club, where we drink wine and rarely talk about books. My spiritual gang of fabulous, awakening souls. The Knitters who sometimes even remember to bring something to knit. The theatre types who bond so tightly during productions we feel like family. Old friends who have seen me through so many years of triumphs, tragedies and change. New friends who spend hours discovering each other’s stories. We cherish one another and shine brighter because we are together. Maybe we really are … the Golden Girls.

We’ve travelled down the road and back again. Your heart is true you’re a pal and a confidant.

Thank you for being a friend.


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Lyrics quoted are from Andrew Gold’s Thank you for Being a Friend

The Three C’s

One year ago yesterday I gave up. It was my birthday and I’d had it. Like pigpen’s ever expanding shroud of dust, I had so many bad habits trailing me through the years that I was ready to let go of all of it. And so I gave up. I gave up the stinking thinking that had kept me stuck. And I gave up the beliefs that I couldn’t re-create my life in such a way that would make me happy, fulfilled and living within my soul’s true purpose.

One year has passed and yesterday I took some time to contemplate where I am now, compared to where I was then. This time last year I was working at a job I truly disliked. I felt stuck and frustrated. Those feelings shaded all other parts of my existence so that I felt like life was dull and unexciting. I hadn’t shared much of my spiritual stuff with anyone, and knew that I was being asked to do more. But what? I was flummoxed. Confused. Frustrated.

So I gave up. And life has never been better.

One year later: I have left that job behind and began a soul based business offering services that felt in tune with my beliefs and gifts. My friend Erin and I started teaching soul classes on Tuesday nights at the coolest little Indie book store in the western world.  I jumped back into theatre, my first true passion, taking the leap into the Director’s chair and fulfilling a secret dream I’ve held since I was a tiny thespian. I stepped outside of my comfort zone and began reaching out to people, tentatively offering companionship, and now have a growing circle of beautiful souls I am honored to call friends.

Yes things are looking up. I am so happy with what has changed in the past year. The shadows of a half lived life are replaced by the full, technicolor glory of Living with a capital L.

And yet….

There is more to do. Like all organisms on this Earth school, even after times of huge growth and expansion, it is never okay to sit back and say: “Okay. I’m done. Now what’s on Netflix?” Resting is fine. Catching our breath is good. But wallowing, even in the successful stuff is never going to be okay. We are on a path of discovery. If we stop moving forward, we will stop discovering stuff.

Therefore, I am setting more intentions for myself for the coming year. I have 365 days until the next cake day, and I intend to LIVE LIFE. And here’s how… my three C’s for the coming year:

  1. Create.  Like the Universal All  -that-isness that created us, we are at our cores, creators. When we allow ourselves the freedom to be creative, we are truly expanding ourselves and the whole world. We make something from nothing. Our creation, whether it be a painting, a book, a sculpture, a sand castle, a song, an origami unicycle, or anything in between, offers the Universe another spark of who we are.  My creations this year will include several projects. A scarf that looks like a fox. One book finished and another started. A coloring book filled with magical mandalas. Discovered vegetarian cuisine created in my kitchen. A backyard turned into an urban farm. And so much more! As I create, it seems doors open and inspiration walks in, bringing more and more exciting ideas.

2. Cultivate Joy. I have come to understand in this spiritual quest of mine, that our one true purpose in this life is to find our joy. For years I attached a lot of conditions to feeling joy. I thought the accumulation of things (houses, cars, clothes, shoes, BOOKS) would bring joy along with them. And when I realized that wasn’t true, I thought that I could just destroy my pesky little ego and once that was done I would be living in supreme, unending joy.But here’s the thing. We are spiritual beings having a human experience, yes. But when we try to only live in that spiritual realm, we really miss out on the human stuff, which is what we are meant to experience. The duality of the human experience is that there are two sides to everything. Where there is shadow, there must be light. Where there is up there must be down. Where there is happy, there must be sad. And where there is good there has to be bad.

We attach judgment to our each experience. We feel so happy when the good stuff happens, and then so sad when the bad stuff happens. But it is in our perceiving and judgment that the “happy” and “sad” are created. What if we just allow each human experience to flow without attaching so much meaning to it?

Being thankful for the lessons, good, bad and ugly, can be challenging. But once we get the hang of it, the whole world begins to change. Our gratitude is the biggest and most important step in cultivating joy. We begin to understand that external circumstances no longer have the power to control us, and we are able to step off the rollercoaster ride of ups and downs and just bask in the perfection of the present moment.My first step in cultivating joy? Gratitude. I will endeavor to find reasons to be thankful for every moment of this life.

3.  Cut the Crap. Some days I seem to hit the snooze button all day long. Yes I get up and get moving, but really I am still half asleep. I stare at my computer for a few hours, mindlessly scrolling through posts and pictures and stories. I eat. I turn on Netflix. I drool. And then I go back to bed, having never fully awakened.Days, weeks and even months have passed with me barely being aware. Oh sure I have my moments of awareness, but lately I have been coasting along without much purpose.And so, with 365 days ahead of me in my new year, I have pledged to cut the crap and get busy living a full, awakened life. I will turn off the devices and turn on my excitement. And I will fill my moments with simple being-ness, instead of compulsively shoving mind numbing pixels into my brain cells.

Life is for living. This year I intend to step things up a notch. No more sitting on the side lines for me. I will take this ordinary life, and make it as extraordinary as I can.

Who’s with me?

An Unexpected Hero

Heroes come in all different shapes and sizes. The one I remember every November 11 is my Great Grandma Elsie.

I had the privilege to grow up knowing this remarkable lady. She lived in a tiny house (way before tiny houses were cool) in my Grandparent’s back yard. Elsie loved birds and always had a budgie for company. Her birds changed every few years, but were always named Joey. Elsie was quiet and kind and every once in a while could be coaxed into tell us stories of her youth. Orphaned at 11 years old, Elsie was shipped to Canada to live with distant cousins in a small town in Saskatchewan. She grew up quickly and when she was 16 years old, two local lads had a horse and buggy race to determine which one would get to propose to her. After great grandpa won the race, they married in a small church and headed out West to begin a family.

Great Grandma Elsie is an unlikely hero. If she were here today she would be the first to pish-posh such an idea. She would claim she didn’t do much at all.  She didn’t serve in the armed forces. She didn’t work as a WAC or in a factory like Rosie the Riveter. She just stayed home and sent her men off to war. Not much heroic about that on the surface.

But every Remembrance Day Elsie would sit in front of her 10 inch black and white TV with the tinfoil on the antennas and watch the Service at the Cenotaph in Ottawa. And she would cry. Not a misty kind of stoic British, stiff upper lip kind of cry either. Elsie would weep openly, clutching her handkerchief in her small trembling fist, as the leaders of the day would pay tribute to the brave men and women who gave of themselves for this country of ours.

You see, Elsie stayed home, kept the home fires burning, hung the laundry on the line and rationed sugar and gasoline. Elsie waved goodbye to her sons as they pulled away from the train station heading to faraway places to fight for our freedom. And Elsie waited. For years she kept watch, praying and hoping her sons would come home safe and whole. And one by one they did.

Except her youngest. Her baby. He served as a tail gunner in a plane that was shot out of the sky. The section of plane he was in was blown separate from the rest, ending up scattered miles away. Listed as Missing In Action, Elsie’s baby boy never came home.

Decades later, Elsie still grieved the loss of her son. As a young girl I didn’t quite understand why Great Grandma was so sad, but now that I am a mother I cannot begin to comprehend the courage it took for her to carry on. When did she stop waiting for word that he had been found? When did she give up hope? And every year as she watched the wreath being placed on the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, did she wonder if that was the final resting place of her youngest son?

Elsie’s grief was a lifelong battle. She fought with courage and survived. Grandma Elsie left us just after her 96th birthday. During those many decades she lived after losing her boy, she bore a burden of grief and loss that most of us will thankfully, never have to fathom.

So I remember Elsie and her amazing courage.

And I remember my lost Uncle, whom I never had a chance to meet, and the other brave souls who have fought and died to protect our way of life. Because of them we enjoy the freedom to think, speak, worship, and live as we choose. These men and women of the Armed Forces continue to fight for us, and are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to protect our peace.

This Remembrance Day citizens will gather to salute these men and women, some of whom paid the ultimate price. I will join them, giving thanks to the soldiers for their bravery, and to the families they left behind, for their sacrifice.

Lest We Forget.

The Ode of Remembrance

by Laurence Binyon

They went with songs to the battle, they were young. Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow. They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted, They fell with their faces to the foe. They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, We will remember them


My grandfather walking with my mom, circa WWII
My grandfather walking with my mom, circa WWII

 Originally published in e-Know


All Dressed Up

The first Halloween I remember was the one when I was 6 years old. This doesn’t include borrowed memories, like the ones you get from looking at old family albums, or hearing old family stories. This is the first memory that I authentically pull from my memory banks of a specific Halloween. And even more specifically, the first memorable Halloween costume.

Mine was the year I dressed up as Cinderella. I had the sparkly skirt, a real live diamond tiara (that my Mom made out of tinfoil and cut up cardboard) and shiny blue ballet slippers.   And since I lived in Southern California at the time, I could wear the costume without even a sweater or pair of tights to keep warm. That’s right. As foreign as this may seem to my fellow Canadians, in Southern California we just wore the costume. No jacket over top. No clunky snow boots. No mittens. No toque.

Can you even imagine?  It was just like a movie. (That is a good, fun, family movie. Not the Jamie Lee Curtis kind of Halloween movie). I skipped and danced happily from house to house, enjoying the balmy evening air and the feel of green grass beneath my scantily clad feet.

Fast forward one year. It is the night of Halloween. My family has relocated…. To Prince George. Yeah. I know.

That year I had one wish for Halloween. I wanted to be I Dream Of Jeannie. I imagined myself draped in the gauze and silk, bare midriff, hair all fancy in an elaborate up do. And lots of make up. Maybe even false eye lashes. I imagined myself crossing my arms and nodding my head, just like I Dream of Jeannie, at every house I came to. I even considered converting my bedroom to look like the inside of her bottle, just to stay true to the theme. I had it all figured out.

So imagine my chagrin when my ever practical mother determined that there was no way in H E double hockey sticks that I was going trick or treating wearing next to nothing, outside, at night, in Prince Freezing George. (I am pretty sure the word she used was “freezing”).

Instead, my innovative and super creative mother had saved the Styrofoam packing unit from the amber glass lamps she had bought when we moved in. (yes this was the 70s). This unit was perfectly round, hollow and once she cut a hole for my face and stuck in two pipe cleaners for antenna, it transformed me into a Martian. Plus, she excitedly explained, I could just wear it with my snow suit and boots!

Shocked! Horrified! I railed against the new costume. I whined. I cried. I cajoled even, but to no avail. A grudging compromise was finally reached. I would wear the rotten Martian outfit, but with I Dream of Jeannie make-up. My poor, harried mother agreed, slapped on the blue eyeshadow, rosy blush and pink lipstick, stuck the Martian hat on my head, then hustled me out the door.

The tricking and treating went well for the first little while. But then it began to rain. Soon the rain turned to sleet. Tiny stinging pellets of ice began to hammer down on my Styrofoam head, echoing like ricocheting bullets into the face hole, smashing against my skin and making I Dream of Jeannie run in an oozing mess down my cheeks. The Styrofoam worked just like it does when formed into a nice fat beer cooler, and my ears, cheeks and forehead were soon developing some sort of permafrost. I broke away from the gang I was touring with and began to run toward home, one arm up to shield me from the onslaught of ice bullets. My pillowcase dragged behind me, getting soaked in the muddy ice and a hole was soon formed. By the time I reached home, frozen and in shock, I had about a ½ dozen soggy pieces of candy and 3 very bruised Macintosh apples left in the tattered sack.

Happy Freezing Halloween.

I bet this stuff never happened to I Dream of Jeannie.


Originally published by e-Know


My Message from Wayne

I haven’t shared this recording with many people until now.  It happened a few years ago and I know a lot of you have read about this experience.  I felt compelled to share this message that I saved… this is the first time I heard from Dr. Wayne Dyer.

It holds such a special place in my memory, and I hope it brings some joy for all of you to hear his voice again.  <3


Mastering Manifestation – Or – Stuff My Dogs Have Taught Me

I learn a lot of stuff from my dogs.  I have two.  Big dog and Little dog.  They are wise little guru’s who constantly amaze and amuse me.  Their lessons are sometimes subtle and sometimes not.

For instance, they have taught me to take a break when I get too busy with my writing.  Usually they do that by nudging my hand off the key board or jumping onto my laptop to remind me they need my undivided love and attention.  Subtle.

If that doesn’t work, they’ll knock something over or puke on the rug.  Not so subtle.

They have taught me about unconditional love.  I can scold them and send them to a time out over some infraction and mere seconds later they will greet me as if I am the Sun itself, come to bring light and warmth into their day.

And just the other night they taught me all about the power of instant manifestation.

I have been a student of the law of attraction for many years and understand the importance of getting clear and staying focused on the end result in order to bring about whatever it is you are hoping to manifest.  What you think about your bring about, right?  All the books say so.

So I was cuddled on the couch watching the latest season of Grey’s Anatomy (all pleasure, no guilt) .  I’d made a big bowl of popcorn and had been sharing a few pieces with Big and Little.    After some time (which may or may not have involved the binge watching of 3 consecutive episodes) I heard something strange coming from the kitchen. Pausing the TV I listened.  Sure enough, there is was again.  A soft and persistent growling sound.  Big dog was sleeping at my feet so I knew it must be the Little one.

I found him in the kitchen.  He was laying on the floor, chin on the ground, staring unblinkingly at his water dish.  It was bone dry.  He growled as he stared, never moving his gaze away from the offending dish.  And like the master manifestor that he is, that dish was filled nearly instantly (or as quickly as I could get it done).

Brilliant, I thought!  What a great metaphor for my own manifesting efforts.  Little dog knew what he wanted.  He focused completely on what he hoped the outcome to be.  Never blinking, and growling softly, he was able to get that bowl filled as if by magic.  Good puppy.  Smart puppy.

I watched as he drank his fill, then, chin dribbling, made his way back to the living room.  Big dog was sitting there waiting.  He was looking mighty guilty about something.

Then I saw the empty popcorn bowl.

Turns out Big Dog is a pretty great manifestor himself.  As I stared at the dog drool on the bowl, he skirted around me and a moment later I heard his big, loud drinky sounds.  All of that popcorn had apparently made him pretty thirsty.

Another lesson learned.  Teamwork makes everything easier.

Good Dogs.

Smart Dogs.


An Attitude of Gratitude

I imported my American Husband to Cranbrook about 14 years ago. A native of Detroit, he spent his first few months here unable to blink or to close his mouth, so amazed was he at the majesty of our area. I had lived in Cranbrook for a lot of years already and was somewhat immune to the surroundings. When he arrived I began to see things through his eyes and it allowed me to truly understand how incredibly good we have it here in the East Kootenay area.

Fast forward a few years. My American Husband and I head on over to Michigan during Canadian Thanksgiving weekend. Upon mentioning to the American relations that we celebrate in October and not November they were all very curious.

“Why is Canadian Thanksgiving in October? What is your Thanksgiving all about?”

When somebody asks me a question I do not have the answer to, I typically say something like: “That is an excellent question” while furtively opening a browser on my iPhone and googling like mad. This time was no exception. As the official Canadian Ambassador to my American In-Laws, I did not want to appear ignorant to my own customs and history. Which, sadly, I was.

Turns our Canadian Thanksgiving did not begin with one specific event or meaning. It was a combination of many things. It all started with the ill-fated voyage of explorer Martin Frobisher. Back in 1578 Frobisher planned to travel to the aptly named Frobisher Bay to begin a settlement. Plagued by ice, freak storms, loss of supplies and a terrible no good awful set of bad luck, Frobisher turned around, heading back to England with a ship full of what turned out to be fool’s gold, and the inspired words of learned man Mayster Wolfall who encouraged Frobisher “to be thankefull to God for their strange and miraculous deliverance in those so dangerous places”.

Years later another explorer, Samuel De Champlain held a huge feast for the French Settlers and First Nations neighbours to celebrate the bountiful harvest and to form the Order of Good Cheer. Not long after a bunch of British Loyalist expats moved to Canada, bringing the U.S. tradition of turkey, stuffing and pumpkin pie to add to the mix. (Which may be my favorite export from the Americans. Next to my Husband of course). And in 1872, the first official Thanksgiving was held to celebrate the Prince of Wales’ return to good health from a very serious illness.

Dates and times bounced around for lots of years until 1957 when it was officially declared by Parliament that Thanksgiving would be held the second Monday in October. Please pass the stuffing.

No matter the roots of this holiday, the central theme has remained the same. To be thankful. And to begin this most grateful of celebrations, I asked around to find out what the local folk find to be thankful for in our beautiful city of Cranbrook. Here is what some had to say:

Erin McDonald: “A community of people who care about one another’s well-being and happiness. Also Lotus Books.”

Shona Bohmer: “Multi Season recreation! And the views that go with it.”

Vicky McDonald: “The mountains! Spectacular!!”

Brianna Stevely: “The ability to drive 5 minutes outside city limits and be surrounded by silence and nature’s beauty.”

Lary Sparks: “7+ lakes within 45 minutes.”

Leslie Molnar: “My commute to work takes 7 minutes. 10 minutes if I stop at the bank on the way.”

Lori White: “ The amazing people!”

Jeannie Argatoff: “Hey! I was going to say that. Okay. Amazing people.”

Shelly Shaw: “Moved to Cranbrook from Surrey six years ago. I am grateful for not having to lock my door just to take the garbage out. Or my car door when my car is sitting in front of my house. Grateful that my car is always there the next morning when I wake up and not stolen! That if I drop something in the mall, it is always returned to me or taken to the lost and found. That almost everyone smiles and says hello on the street or in the stores. For the endless glorious sunshine and almost no rain to speak of. That I no longer have to worry about mold growing on me after months and months of rain! For the white Christmas’s every year. For the endless beauty of the mountains. Grateful for the chance to see wildlife almost every day, either in my yard or while driving around the area. And that wild life is not a rat! Awesome that I don’t have to wake up each day to another shooting in Surrey!!! Thankful to live in one of the most beautiful places in BC if not the country.”

And last but not least, my American Husband: “The proximity to beautiful, natural wonders and the solitude of nature. I appreciate the welcoming I’ve received from a close knit small town. Cranbrook is super friendly. Also very few drive by shootings … haha.”

I’m sure he also meant to mention that he was thankful for me.   Must have slipped his mind.

Personally, I am grateful every day for this beautiful city. I did most of my growing up here and though I have flown away a few times, I always come back. Cranbrook is a wonderful place to call home, to raise my child, to build friendships, to enjoy 4 glorious seasons and to explore nature.

Cranbrook makes it easy to maintain the attitude of gratitude, on Thanksgiving and every other day of the year.

(Originally published in

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

It has been a quiet summer for, as a few of you may have noticed.  Maybe some of you imagined I had taken a leave of absence from life and was basking in the sun somewhere with a cool drink in hand and many cabana boys jumping to do my bidding.

Alas, no.

However, despite the lack of cabana boys and sandy beaches, I am happy to tell you that my summer has been quite spectacular.  Life changing really.

Funny thing happened.  Back when I was writing the Daily Halo and Weekly Halo-Scopes, the same messages kept coming up over and over and over.  Being the smart cookie that I am I eventually figured out that maybe those messages were meant for me, and not just the people who subscribed to them.

The messages were all the same.  Time to make a change.  Move on and follow your dreams.  Trust in the beauty of your dreams.  Make the leap of faith.

During that time I was working a day job that did not fulfill me, and being overscheduled, stressed and getting those nasty little frowny lines at the corners of my mouth.  Not a good thing.  So one day, while bemoaning my circumstances for the gajillionth time to my long suffering and patient American Husband, he said something that made absolute and perfect sense.

“Why don’t you just quit?  If you don’t try your healing business and writing now, when will you?”  What a wise guy, am I right?  If not now, when?

And so I gave notice at my job (which was a perfectly nice job, just not MY job) and jumped into a life of self employed exhilaration two weeks later.

Funny thing about taking a leap of faith:  every time I have taken the leap (every single time), my wings magically appear and I can fly.  Every.  Single.  Time.  And this was no exception.  As soon as I made my quiet little announcement on Facebook that I would be open for business, people started to show up.  And not just clients (though those have been coming in droves, for which I am eternally grateful!) but other people.  People I didn’t even know I would need, people who could be supportive or helpful, all started showing up, offering assistance.

 “If you advance confidently in the direction of your own dreams, and endeavor to live the life which you have imagined, you will meet with a success unimagined in common hours.”  Henry David Thoreau

My days now consist of doing what feels right and important.  I work with clients doing Reiki, Regressions and Readings, and am blessed with a thriving practice.  I host workshops on angels, past lives, and all sorts of soul stuff with my beautiful friend Erin from .

I got to do readings at an Angel Tea Party this week!  Can you even imagine how fun that is?

And the coolest thing of all is that I have taken time this summer to finally finish my book, Pieces of Me, Memoirs of a Past Life Tourist, which will be released this fall.  Stay tuned to this space for exciting cover reveal and release dates.  (AAAHHHHH!!!!!!)

I am living the life of my dreams.  It took a long time to trust that I could make this change, but now that it’s done I wonder why the heck I didn’t do  it sooner.

So please my friends:  Anyone who is standing at the edge wondering if it is safe to finally jump… go for it.  Leap with all of your mighty faith and feel those beautiful wings appear.  They’ve been there all along, just waiting for a chance to fly.

The Living is Easy

Image by: My American Husband, Walt Babinski
Image by: My American Husband, Walt Babinski

As originally published in e-Know.

Your Halo-Scopes for July 5 to 11, 2015

For the beginning of the week, Sunday and Monday:

Queen of Ariel

Summer time, and the living is easy. During the beginning of the week we have a rare opportunity to dwell in the present moment and really just chillax. All of our “shoulds” are set aside for a few days as we spend some time doing whatever we truly want to do. We are encouraged to enjoy the company of friends and family and are given the opportunity now to do that very thing. Throw some food in the picnic basket and head out to someplace beautiful. Bask in the glory that IS summer in British Columbia.

For the middle of the week, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday:


This is a time of great transformation on earth and for each of us personally. During mid week we begin to really move forward on our new, exciting adventure. It is a time of personal evolution. We are coming into our own and our soul purpose is becoming more and more clear. To facilitate the fastest and easiest transformation, allow yourself to let go of the outcome and trust that everything is happening as it should. It is easier than we may think, to transform from a caterpillar into a butterfly. Peace, babies.

For the weekend, Friday and Saturday:

Ten of Michael

Free at last! Freedom is ours at last! By the weekend we clearly see our new opportunities and are ready to put the past behind us. New avenues for happiness begin to present themselves and we are ready to take this thing to the next level. Moving on can sometimes bring a melancholy or sadness. Honor those feelings, but try not to dwell. Bigger, better, brighter times are ahead for us. Prepare to be amazed.

This week’s Halo-Scopes were inspired by the Archangel Power Tarot Deck by Doreen Virtue and Radleigh Valentine.

Want to try a personal, one on one Angel Reading?  Now is the perfect time!  Take advantage of the Super Exciting Summer Special by Clicking HERE NOW.


Hello, Again


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.