Facinating Find

April 9, 2007—Geologist Juan Manuel García-Ruiz calls it "the Sistine Chapel of crystals," but Superman could call it home.

A sort of south-of-the-border Fortress of Solitude, Mexico's Cueva de los Cristales (Cave of Crystals) contains some of the world's largest known natural crystals—translucent beams of gypsum as long as 36 feet (11 meters). How did the crystals reach such superheroic proportions? In the new issue of the journal Geology, García-Ruiz reports that for millennia the crystals thrived in the cave's extremely rare and stable natural environment.

Temperatures hovered consistently around a steamy 136 degrees Fahrenheit (58 degrees Celsius), and the cave was filled with mineral-rich water that drove the crystals' growth. Modern-day mining operations exposed the natural wonder by pumping water out of the 30-by-90-foot (10-by-30-meter) cave, which was found in 2000 near the town of Delicias (Chihuahua state map).

Now García-Ruiz is advising the mining company to preserve the caves. "There is no other place on the planet," García-Ruiz said, "where the mineral world reveals itself in such beauty."

This is an article I found on the National Geographic site for this phenomenon, it is so exciting and can be a source of fascination for anyone who finds crystals interesting.

I watched the documentary on the Nat Geo TV station and found it very exciting, so I share it with you.

Our Extended Family

I had no agenda when I flew to Nashville for my first Unknown country’s Dreamland Festival.
I just wanted to show up and share.

I have been a part of this family as one of the web radio "hosts" for two years now, and I was excited to see what meeting some of my extended family might be like.

Gatherings of like minded people fascinate me. There is a morphic field created and I believe that when two or more are “gathered in my name”, ( as Jesus would say) things are bout to happen.

This weekend felt like the "name" was an immersion into another consciousness.

From the stargate Christian ideas that William Henry shared, the stunning and I mean stunning presentation Linda Moulton Howe's address on crop circles, Jim Mar’s deep reservoir of mind bending knowledge to the ever present space of love and compassion that Anne and Whitley Strieber create for those whose earth experience is…. out of this world, it was a remarkable event.

The many years of experiences that have led Whitley and Anne to pull together such a team is ….well, for the sake of others.

The “Others” are a group of interested people, interested in layers of life that have unique and deep and powerful meaning to them all.

We all braved the oppressive heat of Nashville’s 90 plus temperatures to bath in the cool and edgy conversations of the visitors, their messages and what they have to do with all of us

Yes, Whitley continues to be the consummate novelist that makes him popular, but it is his exigent and extraordinary experience that “Communion” was based on that is the familial history of why most attended, and why I too, am part of this group.

It is a family; a quirky, gifted, unique group, who I had the pleasure of being with.

Here is a family photo.

http://www.cropcircleconnector.com/2009/southfield2/southfield2009b.html

Ya Worried?

I was raised in south central Pennsylvania in a beautiful isolated town that takes two and a half hours to get to the nearest international airport, one hour to the nearest city and I didn’t see a McDonald’s until I was 16.

It’s a Norman Rockwell dream nestled in the Allegheny Mountains, where front page news is limited to petty theft, 4H winners, or an occasional drunk driver charged with running over a mail box. It is a town that is 98% white.

There are 150 different congregations of churches, one movie theatre, and the average income is 40k. The main businesses are agricultural, machinery, construction and health care.

It is a preserved slice of Americana, I loved growing up in my home town.

Those who are still there from my 60s-70s rein still remember me as the singing twirling, personable gal. Perhaps no one really knew me.

However some of the towns-folk are now “worried” about me. It does not matter that I threw myself at the foot of the cross as youth based born again Christian, or that I have used my God given abilities of intuition to help people and work for law enforcement, nope, some of my home townies are strict with their belief in God's word. So the rules of Deuteronomy and Leviticus prove Gods eternal damnation for talking to the dead or using psychic abilities,..... hence the worry.

Could it be that in some Christian sects feel that all the blessed angels, profound dreams, great visions, inspiration, proven prophecy, help from the holy spirit (not to mention talking to Christ who promised ever lasting life), that are the fundamental foundations of the Bible just stopped after the bible was written?

Someone better inform the preachers who, sell books, do TV shows and collect donations every week that their tenure was over a long time ago.

Best we all re -acquaint ourselves with OLD testaments of Deuteronomy and Leviticus for good advice if we want to make sure our souls are not dammed.

Cause according to Deut and Levit, everyone who curses his mother of father will be put to death, the slaves at that come from the nations around us, we can buy; what a novel new business in this failing economy, slavery.

Farmers who plant two different kinds of crops are against God, Sleeping beside your husband when you are having your period will get you thrown out of town, you're dammed if you cut off your sideburns and beard, you will fry for eating a BLT sandwich, if you wear cotton panties with a nylon skirt you'll be dancing with the devil and you cant mix meat with dairy, right? So that ham and cheese sandwich might just lock up a soul forever....who knew ordering surf and turf is a sin?

The scales of Gods HISTORICAL justice seem to make talking to the dead not so bad when weighed against all that.

Who should be worried? The patrons of the Red Lobster about 30 miles outside of my home town.

In the Eye of the Storm

I had a dream. I was at a Tupperware party. There was Cindy Lauper kind o' gal giving tarot card readings , but when she came to me she was reticent knowing I was psychic, she shyly asked me ,” Do you want me to pull a card for you?, ”Of course I said!” I had no judgment of her talent or use of cards, she was warm and I was in a party atmosphere, even if it was Tupperware.

The card was white with red and black lettering. It was the Queen of Hearts, but there were diamonds and spades around the Queen, signifying difficulties.

She then looked at me and said, “You seem to be in the middle of a storm, what is it about storms that you like?”

I was filled with joy as I realized I always loved the rain the thunder the flash of lightening, and as child even in a hurricane I felt safe, so I said ...

“It is the ability to be safe despite the swirling storm outside of me”

My life flew by me like Dorthy Gales' vision of all the things she loved and feared swirling around her when in the eye of the storm.

I remember her reacting to everything she saw but never did she run away.

She rode that bouncing bed, landing her right in the middle of OZ....

... on top of the witch...

....the beginning of her transformational odyssey.

It is our job to be safe no matter where we are, to be OK during the storm, and perhaps even enjoy the ride.

The Being

My Trip to the Sun Valley Wellness Festival as a first time presenter was filled with great surprises.

My workshop and talks were met by extraordinary people and I feel that Spirit in its infinite wisdom gave me as much clear information as my vessel could hear. When I had completed my work I wanted to wander into the beauty of the land that surrounded the Sun Valley Lodge. I wanted to bring home some Kodak moments, I was on a mission.

My mission I thought, was to take pictures of an area that had the most wonderful array of trees with every conceivable color of green…I was so attracted to this small 3 mile stretch between the lodge and town I could not wait to capture the color to remind me of my trip.

As I came back to the intersection of the Lodge and the main road, I was told, “take pictures “here”…so I shot ..three pictures from the same spot, shooting toward the north ,west, and south. The sun was never behaving, as I waited for it to creep out from behind the clouds. I laughed at myself, as I mentally tried to move the gauzy filters that obscured the vibrant green that I was trying to memorialize.

I still shot.

I then came back to the intersection and was met by a number of women who had attended my talks, one by one they drove by me stopped and thanked me for my work, I was oddly emotional as I thanked them too.

Dr Dunn, another festival presenter,who was at one time Dr. Richard Bartlett’s partner( the powerhouse behind Matrix Energetics,) mentioned that he thought the area where the path that intersected the Lodge and main road was perhaps a Nexus, a connection or link association to a group or series of connected people or things, and in cell biology it is a specialized area of the cellular membrane that helps cells to communicate or adhere.That night I had an opportunity to experience my own form of a Nexus

As I walked back from dinner, no one glass of wine could have created this next event. The dusk was ready to drop into the darkness, the purple iridescence of the pending night, became my private illuminati. I was standing right where I had taken the shots from the afternoon. I watched as the road morphed under my feet, my hands changed with a flash of florescent green and the sky snapped from pink to yellow with in seconds.

I had experienced …something.

When I got back to LA, I was anxious to see my film, still in the last century I have not moved into the digital age. My canister held mysteries. The fun shots of friends , co-workers and then…. this.

I thought it was a strobe from the sun, but then It was in two other pictures, the ones where I was told to "shoot" … to the north the south and the west.

I called Becky Andreason my friend who had her family written about in the Ray Fowler books called “The Andreason Affair”.

I shared with her the three photos titled “The Beings” and I said do you recognize this? “ and with a shriek of amazement, Becky said,...

"Marla, this is Exactly what I SEE when an Elder comes to give me a message! The light, and the shape is Absolutely the same as in your picture!!!, My eyes open seeing this Very image again, in a moment it is either gone or instantly tones way down, softly lit. I respond and say"YES"...
I hear their voice and so it begins, I receive a name and the message...
You have no clue as to how AWE STRUCK I was to see this picture you took!!!

I guess I should always keep a camera with me for a flash of inspiration.

Angels Who Drink Coffee and Drive on Freeways

When the sun burns through the haze and you wake, how do you greet the day?

Musing the days events or perhaps pulling the cobwebs apart to remember the last act of a dream?

There is a choice before your feet hit the floor.

I signed up to be here, a contract that I reluctantly made, to do what I was sent here to do.

It it a life time job to figure that out. I think that we are here to take the light that we rise with and move it through the world, the light that you were given the dawn of your first waking day.

I think we are Angels living on a wing of God and a prayer that we survive this earth;angels who drink coffee and drive on freeways, you are here, with much to do.

I wonder if the fallen angels woke and said “Oh F*** it.. I don’t feel like taking what my father gave me and move it through the world”

I think the fallen angels must have complained a lot. Whining that their lives were the way they were, blaming God for their troubles. Lucifer must have hated the mornings.

We lose our way, we get in trouble, but with the light of the day we have a choice to look at our situation one way or another. Its really how we meet the day before our feet greet the floor.

Jewels of Spirit

Years ago when I first came to Los Angeles to train in life coaching and work as an actress, I met a woman named Minda Burr. It was her honest expression of life, its challenges and her passion, having been an actress her herself, that pulled me to her mission. She wanted to share her voice with the world and I admired that, fought some jealously of her, but had the deepest respect for her. She had asked for support in getting her first play as an author off the ground, so I walked up to her and said “Minda, I would like to support your project, what can I do for you?”…thinking that she might ask me to raise money for production, or sell tickets, she surprised me by offering me a role in the show.



“Misconduct Allowed” was mounted at the impressive Sunset Boulevard Tiffany Theater and between the efforts of all , it was very successful . Minda’s connections and friends brought in a host of supporters including an up and coming Spiritual teacher, Marianne Williamson, who had just come on the scene teaching and sharing her message of Gods love through the teachings of the book A Course in Miracles. Within just a few years Marianne has become a stunning NY Time’s best selling author and spiritual mentor for millions. It was always a joy for me to hear her speak either at the large international gatherings for the Peace alliance, or at the cozy meetings in Norman and Lyn Lear’s living room. She offered all of us the messages from God though her, the vessel of the divine feminine.

I lost touch with these women for a few years, but the challenges of life, death of parents, and the pain of growing up brought Minda and I back together. She has been a terrific supporter of my work as a psychic medium and sent me the most amazing women to share Spirits messages. Powerful voices all their own, these women move though life with the greatest of integrity and passion for creating their lives with love, joy honor and fun.

Minda now lives as an inspirational speaker and soon to be successful author, her gift of gathering great gals brought us all together to support Marianne’s launch of prayer filled jewelry.
Though I was still fragile from my process of divorce, I felt the strength of women from all parts of the Los Angeles area. Women who had been inspired by Marianne teachings and who live their lives with sharing Marianne's messages in their multi faceted lives.

Marianne’s warmth and graciousness hugged us all. It was only a few minutes of reconnection, but it didn’t matter, we were connected thorough the eternal grace of Spirit

It was in these new and familiar faces that sparkled with their joy, pearls of wisdom and colorful faceted beauty on Saturday afternoon, who are real jewels of Spirit.

Pointing Fingers

It feels like we have been alerted to more than our fair share of events where individuals will not take personal responsibility for their actions.

The sports figures who we immortalize until their drug tests are positive, the presidential candidate who cheated on his terminally ill wife, religious righters who fornicate behind the pulpit, the beauty pageant contestants who forget they have disrobed for the camera, financial wizards we trust with our disappearing money,and our government officials are all having to deal with their truth being exposed. Our behind the scenes personal lives that are far less public are no different.…. something is happening, more and more is being revealed. Perhaps it is the speed of the Internet, however I think it is something else.

Obama has been preaching change so much that perhaps that word/message is really resonating and having a huge effect. Could it be that Obama has set up Rupert Sheldrake’s morphic field , demanding change, coupled with us aligning with it?

Look out cause change is here.

If we all take Gandhi’s statement seriously, You be the change you want to see in the world, oddly enough we are quick to point at others first, telling them to change before we do.

It is hard to take a look at oneself when pointing a finger at another. What is this powerless human gun with no real bullet? We are so quick with the snap of our feeble wand to transform others.

If you look at your hand when pointing, you will see that three fingers are pointing right back at you.

While I do my best to take responsibility for the choices in my life, if find even my dreams are fraught with trying to get others to accept responsibility.

I woke this morning, laughing at my inability to “change” a dream.

I went back into the dream and tried to amend the outcome because I didn’t like the first one. I tried three different ways to communicate with this person, and I was disappointed in the result every time. Because in truth, I could not make her accept responsibility, I could not make her change, if all people in our dreams are aspects of ourselves, I was the only one who could change.

It was like trying to teach a child the ramifications of what happens if they light a match. I realized before I got out of bed , the child will learn that fire is dangerous when they get burned, but not until then. There are always consequences to events, and we all experience the ramifications at some point.

There is a re-alignment to right resonance that is happening.

It is my prediction that we will all be faced with our egos issues of entitlement, breaking rules, contracts, and promises, with devastating results. We don’t have to point the finger, the trigger by our actions, has already been pulled.

It is the resistance to the necessary re-alignment that will cause pain and hardship. No need to point fingers, but adapt to the change that is here.

Field of Dreams?

This was sent to me today from a smart, Harvard educated, funny, amazing woman who used to be a client…

'To get something you never had, you have to do something you never did."

When God takes something from your grasp, He's not punishing you, but merely opening your hands to receive something better. Concentrate on this sentence... 'The will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.'

The point is well taken and it should be tattooed to the inside of my eyelids.

I was forced to the battlefield where the American, cliché, and deeply painful drama of my husband leaving me for a greener pasture, was raging. I had to find the Grace of God.

After a number of terrible weeks, I have turned a corner. The more I read Eckhart Tolle’s “ A New Earth “ the more I recognized I am one lucky gal, mainly because I can "see" and I now have a choice to feel differently about my “story,” because I know my truth.

It’s odd what we tell ourselves, and then what we tell others. The truth lies someplace in between.

Witness’s to crimes all will see invariably something different. But if you are IN the crime, how you tell the story is really how you want others to perceive you. Reality shows like the First 48, are all based around the perpetrators sitting in a room and finding all sorts of ways to lie. It is the cunning detective, merging with the reality of the perpetrator who usually gets them to admit their crimes.

I have to watch how I tell my story so that I no longer am a victim of my circumstances. Casting aspersions on those who forced me to the battlefield wasn’t fair until I had the Pac Bell records of pursuits. When, where, why and how, is of no comfort.

One is frozen in hell until Culpability is embraced.

I can only distinguish my own role, and that is what helped me get out of the pain. I needed to see it all and feel it all.

Telling a “story “ to fabricate fact the way one wants to be perceived, just keeps pushing away the inevitable. Sooner or later the truth will bite you in the ass.

There is nothing courageous about your personal story if it is filled with falsehoods. Those who continue pretend will find their Karmic path riddled with the bones and carcasses of those who stood in their way of the script they are crafting. Any challenge to the story is met with a certain kind of death.

Sooner or later, there will be no one left to buy the “story” and one has to start over and move to greener pastures where the cows are fascinated by the tales of the drifter.

The will of God has taken me to a pasture where I did not want to go, perhaps with truth and the Grace of God to protect me, it could be a Field of Dreams.

Daily Doses of Divine Help

In my day to day life I must trust Spirit.

Everything that I am going through has had a purpose, though I may not like what that is, I realize that my circumstances are actually the answers to my prayers.

Those answers are not always delivered on the wings of a dove, more like the heavy hand behind a sledge hammer.

Yet when I really look, I am exactly where I need to be, to move me through to answer my prayers.

I was thinking about all the amazing gifts I have been given by Spirit as I go through my divorce.

Daily doses of divine help.

This midlife call to action and release, is, an answer to my prayer.

I prayed to do my work and share it with many, be free to live, love and learn to the greatest of my abilities, and to be supported by those that honor love and cherish me.

Spirit in its infinite wisdom would not let me be distracted any longer.

As I sat down to express this tonight, I immediately heard an old song that really does speak to my daily duties.

Paul Francis Websters song “ I’ll Walk With God”


I'll walk with God from this day on.His helping hand I'll lean upon.This is my prayer, my humble plea, May the Lord be ever with me.

There is no death, tho' eyes grow dim.There is no fear when I'm near to Him.I'll lean on Him forever,And He'll forsake me never.

He will not fail me,As long as my faith is strong,Whatever road I may walk along.

I'll walk with God, I'll take His hand.I'll talk with God, He'll understand.I'll pray to Him, each day to Him,And He'll hear the words that I say.

His hand will guide my throne and rod...And I'll never walk alone..While I walk with God.

May we all have the strength to see our daily doses of divine help.

Here Goes

I am ..On the edge… Uncomfortable.. Waiting… Trusting that I will not die when I jump.. Having faith that I will not hit the rocks ... Remembering that I can heal..My skin paper thin.. I write the book ...I tell the stories ...I share with you ...Noting else to do..

... but dive into my new life

Whats In There?

When I wrote “”food in the Ice Box” on March 10, 2009, I had to reach out to others. They nourished and fed my heart and soul, not to mention my gut.

Now I am forced to see what’s in my own fridge.

Funny, I never noticed the light that emanates from within my Kennmore side by side .... until now.

Peering into my life to see what I can “cookup" or swallow....

Well it’s pretty empty.

That could be a great thing.

The 15 pounds I have lost will be terrific, if at 50, will I have the nerve to wear a bikini this summer?

The fact it is empty, means I am saving a s*** load of money because I am no longer buying for two.

My co –dependant nature of caring-like-a good-wife is an archetype that is on vacation, maybe never to return, except for the reminders of half full cans of nummies for my cat.

The most significant thing about it being empty, is that I can fill with what ever I like, the greatest of nutrition. The best,the most delicious or bland, exotic or take out, ….its up to me.

Different for every day, for as long as I have this fridge, which may not be too long,…

there are plenty more Ice boxes for me to peer into.

What ever in in there will be fresh, healthy, interesting, and probably crunchy.

My Real Life

A dear friend sent me a little photo to cheer me up while I am splitting up.

Divorce is the act of surviving…

.....an earthquake; but your house doesn’t,

....the stock market crash; money you invested disappears,

....attempted murder because you heart still bleeds and aches like a Mother f***er from where it was stabbed,

....death, but everyone is still living,

.....robbery, someone came in and stole your life,

....perjury , the oath you took for love is now a lie,

...purgatory, that extremely unpleasant place you want to crawl out of

and ....alien invasion ,cause the pod people came in and took over your husband.

This is real life in the millennium midlife unless you are a 50’s mom waiting for the man to come home.

I learned from the best. She looked just like this lady.
By the time I was born, she switched to slacks, and didn’t want all the jewelry. She no longer painted her nails, and rarely ever smiled waiting for the man to come home and occupy the lazy boy.

She liked imaginary men best of all.

I was lucky, I had ten years of real love, support, fun, laughter, tenderness, and challenges.
I rose to the occasion for all of it, the thought that it would last forever might have been the imaginary part.

I too waited for the chair to be full.

Well, I no longer have to wait, and that is such a relief.

I think I will sit down and put my feet up and live my real life.

A Pattern of Legacy

Do you think the dog wants to wear the tutu?

I see how emotional, familial patterns are put on us. It is as though we are just paper dolls waiting for the next set of clothes to be dressed up in.

A legacy waiting to live.

As a psychic medium I have witnessed some interesting things of how the dead can affect the living.

Some want to leave behind their greatest strengths, and they will pass through one of their living family members to actually leave behind a great gift. Some can energetically support a family member, by infusing them with wonderful attributes.

There is an amazing moment in the movie Poltergeist, where the Mom, played by JoBeth Williams feels her daughters spirit move through her, and she can smell her essence in her sweater?Though the child for the sake of the movie premise did not die, she was in a form that the mother could not identify. For me it was one of the most moving moments of mother daughter connecting depicted on film.

Then there are others who die that have a strong sense of pathology in their vibrational field and they look for the weakest, the most desperate of family members to imbue their legacy.

The child who has the most need is looking for an energetic familiar support system and if they have not built enough of their own strength of character in themselves, they will adopt something familiar.

Since the dead are with us, and often times not happy being dead,

Their legacies’s can drift around for a few years until the deceased can effect one of their family members, insuring that their pathology lives on. Strange isn't it?

However, we do have a choice...

You can agree to take the good and let the rest go, but unless there is that strength of character, one will be looking to take on the legacy of another because they do not know who they are.

Like paper dolls waiting to be dressed.

The courage it takes to become real, and no longer a two dimensional character sometimes takes a life time.

Putting on your own clothes is freedom.

Waiting to Bloom

I have chosen to be public with pain. I cannot be clear for others unless I am clear for myself, and I am in the process. I share this in hope that my path might assist someone.

This chasm in my life is important on many levels. I move with its undulating tears and hair pulling thoughts to find myself laughing at such strange circumstances.

Any part of this acceptance phase is a relief.

I rarely ask for help, but this time I did and the pouring out of the friends and other facilitators has been powerful.

I am deeply grateful.

In the daily gifts I have received from others I am given great strength, today I received an anonymous note that was so spot -on and encouraging, I must share it with you.

“The only thing that is true is that the way that you conduct yourself now, the way you carry yourself through this fire will define yourself for the rest of your life.

How much of yourself you manage to bring through intact, will be your reward. You are all by yourself now, tangling in the dark with your loss.

Your destiny and your husband's destiny are no longer meant to coincide. What the net balance is when you get through this, how much of that glowing spirit still shines -- this is your great danger and opportunity.

Come through it intact, and your spirit will shine more clearly, in starker contrast, new and fresh like a new bud of spring.”

What terrific words for us all.

Thank you for taking the time to share hope , love and perspective.

I now wait to bloom.

In the Metamorphosis

"Sometimes you have to feel everything Marla."

We want the very best for you” “Maybe this was not the best,…..right...”

“Trust us.”

The first words I could hear when I could hear past my own crys, the first words of clarity that Spirit revealed.

I am in a relationship with loss now.

How I will be with this loss will determine my life. I see now that I was slowly loosing things and yet I turned my head and shifted focus to avoid the loss.

Every day a little death.... It is here now and sits on my bed waiting for me to wake.

I see that my own awareness skirted to places that dimmed me, distracted my light , and I too could find ways to numb consciousness. That's what we all try to do, because pain from loss is excruciating.

It is not the pain from a wound. Years of cuts and bruises teach us that things heal, but pain from loss is knowing what you had and then it is gone.

It is bitter kind of death, it is human, it is hard.

Death is the door though which we enter the world of loss.

Death can touch life in many forms. My work is about transcending death, making peace with it, and listening to the love that continues for others. Death happens every day. We abhor it, do everything we can to fend it of, but everyday we are all touched by various forms of death.

How we deal with the loss is how we will live more life.

You must go through the metamorphosis.

You must feel everything Marla..... and that is what I do now.

There is no getting away from the pain.

Death, it is a painful process that is necessary for something different.

Ma'at ....More to Come

Ma'at, Goddess of Truth, Balance, Order...

I have things revealed...not when I need them, or what them, but when it is right ....

Right is the operative word. What I thougth was right two months ago is not even in my vocabulary. What is right today is a word that gives me perspective, as I woke to Ma'at.

....lets just say that the universe/Spirit is so benevolent and ready to assist us...why don't we always know?

Why don't we ask, and then really look to see the answers to our questions?

Ma'at showed up today, ....Thoth showed up in July with her...I'm not buying a ticket to Egypt...

but they are free to visit me whenever they like.

How Pithy of Me

I am so blessed to have dear friends and even colleagues who are supporting me since I filed for divorce,…but once again it is spirit who keeps showing up in unusual ways.

Interesting times as I have to be free of my own noise, so I can hear others. At this juncture I am coming out of the incredible pain and terrible noise that accompanies my husband’s affair.

I am realizing that I have just had part of me surgically removed by a force that changed who I am,...or at least who I was.The rest of me is alive and very well. The rest of me feels like multiples of my personality, one of which I just seemed to connect to waaaay back in Greece.

I had the most amazing time with Dr. Brian Weiss, author of “Many lives many Masters” he regressed me back in 96’ and low in behold I had memories of being in Greece….however..

I had never heard of Oracle of Delphi until a few weeks ago when I sat in an energy gateway developed by a researcher working with radiant energy technology at his zero point research facility. As I sat between two polls of energy and touched the energy stream that was emanating, the words the one the Delphi the oracle came flooding into my head and remained as a mantra and rhythm until I could drive home and research its meaning.

The Oracle of Apollo at Delphi apparently was one of the world's most intriguing and unusual establishments. Within that ancient temple-sanctuary the god Apollo was said to have spoken through Pythia, the high priestess.

The great lawgivers Lykurgos and Solon obtained suggestions for laws which made their city-states models of justice and freedom. Oedipus, King of Thebes, consulted the Pythia and so did Alexander the Great. There is mention that Pythagoras was to have trained this woman to serve as voice of the god.

For over a thousand years, before and after the time of Christ, the great and less great came to consult, the numerous Pythias.

She offered inspiration and guidance to all who sought her aid and
In order to be this great channel “Pythia” she had had be a woman over 50 and lead a chaste life. This with a few other attributes gave her the right to sit on the tripod and give divine information to the seekers.

February 7th was supposedly the day of every calendar year when she was to channel information. This February 7th I was sick and in bed, listening to the horror of my own intuition warning me of a deep and painful woe crossing the boundaries of my marriage….how interesting.


As reminder of who I really am, a dear friends sent me this photo of a painting of the alleged Pythia. For those of you who know me, it looks a bit suspicious, but at least I laughed, as I am sure Pythia did too.

Food in the Ice box

When there is an event that rips you apart and throws you into the bitter unknown, you must ask for help.

Spirit didn’t really think I needed a few days in the Bahamas, no, I was catapulted into the moonscape ice covered town of Sun Valley Idaho.

I hadn’t been in snow since I moved from Chicago some 20 years ago. No longer fun, it challenged my footing, made my toes burn, and egged me on as I tried to follow the fast steps of my dearest friend Maya, whose excitement for the land was better than a tour guide at the Louvre, and whose life reflects the beauty of her vast and mighty spirit.

I ran to the ice box and when I looked in it was filled with the most delicious unfamiliar sounds of silent snow, the warm embrace of a powerful friend, a banquet of bubbling pots of curry, reductions spooned by Tim the master chef , wine in a glass and the carnivore cuisine of Oh -my- God-incredible buffalo burgers on the grill.

We’d talk, muse, laugh and watch each others intricate quirky stories reveal truth, fear, love and the American way of the stock market, as they held me close.

I babbled to a detective who trusted me to look at a troubling case, perhaps my ability of sight could mirror his own.

I pushed though confusion by listening to those dear and supportive friends in my phone as I watched a snow storm batter my senses.

I gathered myself to see and hear for others, strengthening my resolve as my work for brief moments felt just as majestic and stalwart as the Saw tooth mountains. Yet, I was cold.

Nothing was colder than the bitter betrayal that pushed me on the plane, but I gained perspective when two days after I arrived, Stella a hometown, expert skier was crushed in an avalanche.

How she lived and then died by the mountain, gave all pause; a reminder that life in all its pain can and must go on if we are hungry enough to go searching.

I was blessed and satiated I found great bounty in the ice box.

Our Internal Defenders

So much for the anti bacteria wipies I use before taking a grocery cart. The cookies and wine I had scarfed down to placate missing my husband who went away for a job, set me up for a fall....wham !

...there I was prone, with only "Rock of Love "and every other insane, inane, reality show to babysit me.

My body went into a fight.

Viruses and bacteria are are considered to be "invaders."
The whole idea of inflammatory response is like a hospital emergency situation. An alarm goes off.

My alarm went off 7 months ago in September of 2008 , when I begged my husband not to take this "job".

I swirled around the house feeling a terrible upset and knowing something was not right, I vehemently fought to say"please don't do this, you don't need it," , but apparently it was what he did "need" and he took the job.

I waited anxiously, not really sure what the horrible feeling was about. Working for others I see, I was too busy to really stop and look at my own life; until the job commenced in February 2009.

When I was hit with this virus, my system not only was trying to defend a classic strain of germ but my personal life was easily compromised by my husbands weak ego.

As I lay alone under the covers in the dark choking on vile bacteria that tried to prevent me from breathing, I was seeing and feeling tragedy. Within 11 days of my husbands new job, a 22 year old blond virus infected my marriage.

My system knowing I was in trouble not only sent its cell defenders to my aid, but I was given an antidote, ....my intuition.

Days of not being able to speak, was shocking, but apparently I needed to be quiet, I had no choice; I became a voyeur with an opinion.

I could feel, and see the midlife crisis roll out like a twisted Disneyland epic. The singing, the forbidden love the chiseled jaw coming to rescue a 22 year old on a power trip; perhaps a bit of karma from my 30 year ago stupid pursuit of "unavailable" unhappy men, oooh, not pretty.

What I was seeing and feeling was dismissed by the covert heart of my gaslighting husband, but I was not crazy, again, I am psychic, ....and with that I was faced with the possibility of a not so happy ending.

In the darkness of a fight to survive, it is a time to re-calibrate and honor the voices of our internal defenders.

What eventually gets killed along with parts of me, is the infection.

If your system is strong enough, one can survive anything. Truth seems to render salve.

Was this a dormant virus just waiting to attack when my husband turned 50.... or just a tacky little germ that got picked up on a dirty grocery cart?....none of us are immune.

Psychic Gals Gone Wild

Laughing with other women psychics who got the same “hit” as I did on a crime, a case, a big public question, can be one of the oddest yet most bonding of gal pal experiences.

I live in the same town as the psychic twins Linda and Terry Jameson. They are beautiful, really finny and very talented.

We met at a pool party and between a couple of Margaritas, we found we had a few things in common. We were all three raised in Pennsylvania had lots of health maladies as children and were very artistic, not to mention... psychic.

A month ago I ran into them at the local VONS grocery store parking lot…The conversation went like this…”did you know, ..? YES... oh did you see??? Right, Yes ,and did you get he was goin to jail ? Yes!... and did you know…OF COURSE I knew…you knew that? …duh!”

The three of us answering each others questions before the question was answered…and then one of them, (sorry still can't tell them apart), one said , “you changed the spelling of your last name”….she was right, I did about 25 years ago…

We laughed and laughed.

But we became more serious when I mentioned one of the cases we all worked on. The missing person case of Olivia Newton Johns former boyfriend. He was also the former husband, and father of a child with an actress who sought my help when he first went missing three years ago. I told her back then that he was alive and living in Mexico…

We mused about that in the parking lot of VONS, remembering that three years ago we all three said he’s in Guadalajara, we did giggle at the fact we all three said it at the same time.

However, no ones has been knocking on our doors about that case...

…Spirit has a time frame when people like that need to be found.

Spirit has a time frame that is not ours.

Double, double toil and trouble… I cant wait to run into them again!

The Walk of Good Will

This is the nave in the Temple of Good Will, in Brasilia Brazil. This area is the bottom part of a large pyramid. Its modern feel and transformational vibration I liken to the transporter room of a Galaxy class starship where teams are dispatched for important missions.

I visited this in 1996 and have been relentlessly thinking about it for months. I recently was at a gathering of people interested in the various healing centers around the world, and the conversation of Brazil came up. The woman who I was talking to was leaving the very next day to visit this place. I thought it interesting enough of a meeting to share this with all of you.

The Brazilians say that Temple of Good Will is the greatest symbol of Universal Love, of the exaltation of Life and of Unrestricted Ecumenism. Its doors have never closed since its inauguration, remaining open 24 hours a day. Apparently is the most visited of the Brazilian capital, receiving over a million pilgrims per year.

At the top of the pyramid rests the largest pure crystal rock in the world. The crystal symbolizes, in Unrestricted Ecumenism, the unifying presence of God. According to scholars, it purifies the environment by catalyzing energies that fall upon those who enter the place.

This is a picture of the Nave. Its floor was built in granite and drawn in a spiral.

Upon entering the Temple the visitor follows the darkened pathway that winds anti-clockwise, representing Mankind’s difficult journey in search of a point of equilibrium. In the center of the pyramid, exactly beneath the crystal, a round bronze plaque symbolizes the discovery of Light and the beginning of a new journey. The clear colored path however, going clockwise, represents the path illuminated by moral and spiritual values acquired by the Human Beings’ own effort, finishing at the Throne and Altar of God, from whom one receives blessings.

I found my experience to be one of deep emotional connection to the many who choose to walk on the path and in interesting symbol of the yin and the yang, the dark and the light, side by side, in harmony.

Daughters of Dead Broken Men

It was the beginning of August 2008, when a well dressed and attractive woman, Birgit, who still had her eastern European accent, brought her son and daughter in law for a session.

I connected immediately to a deceased man who was giddy with excitement to be in communication with his daughter. He showed me how he comes to visit her in her New York apartment.

I stood, and carefully described what he was showing me, where things were, how he felt.... He had transported me to see her space..

“ the window where she sits is over here , the stove here, and then there is a calendar on the wall where she writes everything down., she writes everything down!”.

He knows how much his daughter likes the Opera and suggested she go see a Wagner piece. She had already planned it. He showed me a bridge, over and over again, a place that he said he had to come to terms with.

He loves his great granddaughter and visits her in Los Angeles, he wants his grandson to be strong, and take care of his wife.

He was impressed that our country would elect a Black man ( this was before the nomination) "however," he said , "the Jewish people in New York would mourn their homeland after December", he showed me Rabbis upset that their home, once again would be in trouble. He said, “ I am so sad that nobody learned from my story, and that the human race keeps on fighting”

What he was saying, oddly enough, we now know has come to pass. He wanted us to know he was fine now, and he likened himself to a ladies man, handsome, full of life and humor. He wanted his daughter to know he visits her mother in South Africa. He mentioned that Birgit's mother had planted in her garden a hibiscus in honor of him, a fact Birgit confirmed that night. He waits for his wife to complete her time here on earth. He loves her so.

He was just happy to be with us for a brief moment and tell his earth family he loved them.

As Birgit was leaving, she said her father was a WWII, SS officer who had been heavily injured in a mine explosion and was held in a French prison camp. When released, he was a broken man who knew he had fought for a wrong cause, came back to no home, nothing left, and ended his life by diving off a bridge.

Brigit said he worked hard to clear his political past, became friends with Jewish people and tried to make amends. He was just desperate to end his suffering.

His daughter loved him, loved him enough that he felt safe after all these years to come and talk to her. I could see he was smiling and snapping his fingers to the beat of a music I could not hear.

I found it profoundly ironic that both our fathers had fought in the same war, on opposite sides, in the same country and both had been heavily injured by mine explosions.

My father came back to the US imprisoned in a body cast for nearly a year, and struggled the rest of his life to end the nighttime terrors and daytime shadows that the war cast on his life. My father dove into a bottle instead of off a bridge.

There we were, daughters of dead broken men. Both our fathers fought, did what they could to heal and paid the price of war.

I felt honored to help them bridge a new relationship as his consciousness continues with love.

The photo is my father Harold J. Fries

The Face of Change?

I sat with a woman who had this picture in her personal journal. She saw the same photo on my book shelf, so we discussed its resonance and why it is important to us.

She was distressed. In her work with children, she sees many family atrocities and cries about the pain and frustration that is part of all humanity. She wants to make a difference. She wants to change things. I went to bed thinking that she shares all our concerns.

I woke with the idea that perhaps, this is the face of change.

History shows us that people resist change. Anything out of normal existence in the physical world was feared or denied, causing great strife for those trying to teach higher truths. People have always wanted change, centuries of prophecies and visions passed as people yearned for something different, something to save them.

Enter The Christ. Whether you believe he is the son of God or not, he was a teacher who came as a role model for a different kind of behavior. Contrary to the warring first half of the Bible, Jesus came to show another way. Did God just decide, “ gee, I’ve been throwing around a lot of fear, dominion, rules and annihilation in the first half of my book, maybe I better send a peace maker to give hope to all mankind for the second half, ...warm things up a bit."

People were not so receptive to that. Hundreds of male children were killed out of the threat of such change, not to mention the slaughter over memorializing Jesus in the form of Christianity. Is this what Jesus had in mind?

Sounds like man, once again, has stuck his greedy little hand in the pot, stirred it and said ,”My what good boy am I”, as he still tries to control the masses with fear and archaic belief systems.

The marketing of Jesus seems like a constant bad crop rotation of reaping what is sown.

In my humble opinion he came to reflect mans greatest divinity, that we too are connected to the fathergodthesource, and though Christ and his teaching we might recognize this, but once we understand this, you think he wants us to create more separation by preaching that we are right and others are wrong, then cut them out of our lives, deny them love, and threaten them with the cruelest of punishments?

I doubt seriously that Jesus wanted to be split into factions of card- caring- club- members that exclude others and threaten the burning fires of hell for not knowing him.

Didn't he hang with the derelicts, the ill, the oppressed and the troubled? Was he not loving and kind toward those less fortunate? Who was it that started interpreting him to exclude those who did not agree or believe in him?

These restrictive belief systems make Jesus look like a snob. I say fire his PR person.
If he came back today, which “religion” would he join?

You think he’d shun the Jews, his own people, because they never got him?
Would he prefer the cute little Methodist church around the corner, the opulent Mormon temple, the gold studded cathedrals of the Catholic church, or would he be with one of the churches who abhor the gays and use his name as an excuse to dominate, kill and revel in club Jesus?

How do we heal or bridge such skewed beliefs and break this cycle of miss-interpretation and seperation? What is going to make a difference that promotes love and not fear?

What will be the face of change?

Spark of Genius

How Shocking it must have been to be picked up, agonizing pain surging through your body, face pressed against the ceiling, then thrown to the floor, smoldering and dead.

Such was the end of a phone call on September 17, 1975 for Dannion Brinkley. His story etched in Saved by the Light and Secrets of the Light are tangible reminders of the power and grace of God in the finger of a lightening bolt.

Hopefully we don’t have to have strange acts of nature to bring us to our knees and change the path that we are walking, but in Dannion’s case it turned his life of being a son’of a bitch, into a spokesperson for heaven.

In his indoctrination on the other side Dannion learned that part of the reason many people were not living in love and harmony was the direct result of too much stress. In his book Secrets of the light Dannion says that the beings on the other side told him that stress carries a heavy energy that attracts negativity and fear, In turn, this slows down our chakras, drains our spirit, and disconnects from our divinity.

By relieving the stress in our daily routines more light would be allowed to filter through our lives, making us all healthier, happier beings.

I think his books are terrific bedside table materials to remind us that darkness will be pierced by light eventually.

I opt for recognizing that if it gets a little too dark in my world, I can turn on a light,…. myself.

Energetics of 08'

I hope this blog has been helpful to those of you who have taken the time to read it.

I've been inspired by all of you who have emailed me this year.

I had many thoughts on Change, as did the whole country.

When I look back over my 08’ I realize the catalyst for breaking open change in me was
the Matrix Energetics training.

I did it in February and by the end of November, I had a new direction, better health, deeper understanding and pure appreciation. I asked for this, but, I never thought two words I barely ever used (quantum and physics) could be so transformational.

The essence of the year became a prisim of love and light.

Color has a vibration that is completely enticing.

Love is a frequency that is fulfilling.

May you have the most colorful, fulfilling and exciting new year.

Thank you,

Marla

ps....I have to acknowledge Max too, my organic computer!

In Truth We Stand, in Lies We Fall

The frailty of our economy, those in charge of our money, the ones we have relied on, who said they would help others, the biggest financial institutions; a house of cards.
Where did they get the idea that this was OK?

I have determined from the template of my own family that this is where it all starts.

If we look at the compromise in this house of cards, it starts in the fundamental structure of the family.

The first basic human need is security or safety. Trauma and victimization undermines that basic need. A traumatic experience, emotional and or physical, frustrates the needs for security and lead people to feel the world is dangerous. I'll get you before you get me.

Our inner cities cry with the blood shed of fatherless males trying to survive. The inability of people to resolve emotional conflict within the home is the result of more than half of homicides. There is the other part of unhealed trauma, the need to escape through drugs or alcohol.

Heads of corporations, heads of state, governors, senators, presidents, all acting out their childhood wounding. Are they better than the drug dealer whose marketing skills are not as honed? Has capitalism created a world of spoiled narcissists, or are the wars, low self esteem and lack of emotional security to blame? ....probably all.

Trauma of the emotional and physical nature upsets positive identity. People feel diminished worthless, otherwise why would such terrible things have happened to them?
Trauma undermines feeling connected to people and it skews a person’s reality. Look at any fundamentalist leaders. They create their own reality, a house of cards so to speak.

A narcissist has to make their world a certain way and if that world is threatened then those who challenge the narcissist risk annihilation.

How hard one fights to erase or color the truth will only perpetuate the inevitable, and haven’t we seen that up close in our own lives, not to mention with how things are crumbling around us?

Like scavengers trying to salvage something valuable from a wreck? Ill get mine before the house tumbles.

The truth is, the house already fell a long time ago. That is where we have to start ... looking at the truth. The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.

In truth we stand, in lies we fall.

Ask and Ye Shall Recieve

I had a dream.

I was in a well appointed, yet old hotel.

Instead of asking for fresh towels, I asked to meet my guardian angel.

Odd, because I feel I have so many, and didn't really need to take a meet and greet.

The man at the desk handed me a key and said,

" you will know her when you go into your room and open the blue bag."

I walked down the familiar red carpeted hall to the elevator and without a blink I was in front of my room door, I inserted the key.

My phone rang and I woke.

I spent the day wondering why that dream would come.

My husband, Jeff encouraged me to clean my office and make it the perfect space for me to continue to write my book, so we got out the vacuum, green magic and went to town on my space.

I reached over the sofa and saw a blue gift bag. I had forgotten it was there, a remnant of a time this year when I was putting photos away and didn't manage to put things in the right place.

There she was, the Angel I named Gloria. A Christmas card from a set I bought during a year that was filled with great difficulties.

I opened the card and it said Peace on Earth.

I turned the card over and read Guardian Angel, by Steven Mackey.

Zen Intent

Zen in the Art of Archery is thus infused with comments about aspiring not to hit the target, but rather struggling to attain an egoless state in accordance with the "Great Doctrine" (Herrigel 1985: 78-79).

The idea of taking action by picking up a bow and arrow, focusing on a target and with intent shooting the arrow, could be applied to all of the actions we take.
What moved you, and propelled you to take certain actions?

Seeing it from a Zen perspective is interesting.

Were we forced by outside circumstances to yield, or pushed by some internal fear? Mongol forces of life set to destroy us?
What ever the motivation, we all took actions. It might be interesting to see how we accomplished things.

I have found that we move mountains when we actually share with others what we intend to do. Perhaps it is the invisible support of the universe, or the human fear of shameful repercussions we might need on some level to be held accountable. It is compelling to think of freeing the action and trusting it to be. I guess that is what I do all the time as a psychic medium. I have to trust and freely allow to show up what will.

Many of us set out with great intention and did not have the resolution we "wanted", but there might be merit to things not working out the way we want. Our efforts may be more than just something personal, perhaps the trajectory of what we intend has a greater purpose.

The idea that the arrow is not intentionally "let go" by an archer, but rather naturally "gets free" reflects an understanding that the aim is to reach a level where it is not "I" that shoots, but simply ‘"It" shoots’.

What will get set free this next year?

Holiday Voyeurism

The recent cold snap in Los Angeles has uncovered a few bundled Christmas memories; easily forgotten with many years of 70 degree weather.

Stuffed into a Sears and Roebuck snow suit, I gaily climbed in for our nighttime Christmas lights car ride. First through town, with wreaths strung high, steeples aglow and Jesus framed in neon, then past the truck stop where scattered farm houses covered in blue snow beckoned me with glowing amber living rooms and the quick smear of colored lights on a Christmas tree.

Families settled in, stringing popcorn, paying bills, watching wheel of fortune.

I carried my seasonal voyeurism to Milwaukee, where wool and fur muffled carols and bitter wind denied normal sight. I braved walking home in old seal skin coats I sewed up with dental floss, air tight, and just like new. Bus rides noisy and too bright to enjoy looking into the lives of others.

Chicago where I huddled against the brittle plastic window of an L Train wondering what was being cooked in the much to close to the train track kitchen of a three story walk up. Who was home for dinner; were they happy and did they speak of love as they cleared the table?

Cleveland covered with treacherous pot holes and broken streets under deceptive blankets of snow. No time to look into anyone’s windows as I steered to defend my life, my first car, on guard until I was in the safety of the rotunda where I worked.

New York at Christmas was a maize of steps, dragging body and bags up and down to trains with no views, until I could rest on the slushy streets of Brooklyn Heights. A coat on sale at Macy's rivaled my old seal skins; my defiance of winter.

The brownstones bore no spirit, so I chose the bustle and the smiles of the Garden of Eden grocery store to soften my face and commune.

The blue snow of the farmland memories still touch my soul, but I am in my home now and I have found other ways to keep warm on the longest night the year. I still drive to see the lights, but I need not look into the lives of others, unless I am invited.

In the World of Karma

He pleaded his case- the wedding ring of his murdered wife he wished had gone to his daughter, snapshots of what gave his life meaning to his son. These things that were HIS. “My things, I had every right to take back," he said.

He didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he was sorry.

In the desert town of “ya win some ya lose some,” his number was finally up. His gun tootin, unmasked posse just trying to retrieve his belongings, heard their sentence.

Had the judge allowed him more air time, we might have heard more about his sorrow. What he was really sorry about we didn’t hear.

This icon of self-aggrandizement, a world unto his own he made, ruled, and when questioned, could not bear the loss of his identity, so he cut them down in the walkway of a condo.

I thought I might feel jubilant, having worked on the case 13 years ago. My target, the killer of Ron Goldman and Nicole Simpson. My subconscious led me to pinpoint on a map Rockingham. I was simply saddened by all the loss; no luster in prosecuting the perpetrator.

What could be the lesson in this loss?

I believe Nicole and Ron were sacrificial lambs to raise the consciousness about domestic violence. The disaster of his first trial cast light on every crime lab in collecting and preserving evidence. Mistakes of that public magnitude would never again be tolerated and the illusion that Orenthal James Simpson might come by for dinner, disappeared in the female African-American community.

Had the chickens come home to roost in Vegas or was this the projected path of a narcissist?

The day he was sentenced, I was tormented about another case I was working on, when a book high on my shelf fell and snapped me out of my thoughts. A Course in Miracles opened to lesson 46 : God is the Love in which I Forgive.

It was the clap of a book to the floor that reminded me, only God knows the statue of limitations in the world of Karma.

Gobble Gobble

The recent unconscionable news coverage of Sarah Palin in front of a contraption that decapitates turkeys was just too much for me as an entree to this Thanksgiving holiday.

That thoughtless image reminded me of my own bucolic background and the combination of horror and metaphor made me laugh uncontrollably, striking the tickle bone of embarrassment because of the strange and morally reprehensible disconnect to life. My inappropriate chuckles conjured more memories.

The killing of the dinner was part of my childhood, as you can see from this 1980 photo of my father Harold J. Fries proudly displaying our up coming repast. My dad loved to bring dead things home, de-feather, skin and hand them over to my mother who was talented in cookin em up.

She'd make quite a turkey day spread, orange zest cranberries with walnuts, corn pudding a southern delight for everyone but me, perfectly whipped potatoes, stove top stuffing, doctored up and a succulent bird.

It was a great excuse for my dad to have wine, wear his light blue cashmere sweater and be emotional. He never minded leaving the football game to come to the table savoring the meal silently with a few nods and slurps, a custom acknowledgment of my mothers fine efforts.

I can understand how Sarah might be just numb to the entrapping of entrails in her life, never thinking it could ruin another person’s day if seen on TV. Her interview with Greta Van Susteren on Fox TV showed a stuffed grizzly bear in the background, forewarning, that, is the Alaska way. Inspiring more stories from my own home state.

The Thanksgiving I had my tonsils removed, I received obligatory cards from all my 4th grade classmates. “I’m a turkee I taste good, I tastes better than you ever wood”… " Roses are red , violets are blue, its time to wake up for its Tanksgiving day”…and one that now seems like the essence of Truman Capote's “In Cold Blood” a picture of a dark stick character with a gun shooting a turkey, “come back soon, or I’ll shoot you and sell you to the blacks” by M Conner, warm Pensilvania greetings. I still wonder if the disturbed M. Conner ever ended up in some jail.

Another Thanksgiving my dad and I went down to our farm to check the horses. It was bitter and rainy, just on the verge of snowing. We knew mother’s dinner was urging us home, when we came across a car stranded on the side of the road. A cold and hungry family miles from their intended destination had run out of gas. My father ran to our farm gas pump and gave them as much as their tank could hold. The man tried to pay my dad and of course my father refused, the man asked if he could give me a dollar instead. Simple gestures of Thanksgiving; sharing gifts of kindness. I loved that day.

Its the simple gestures,whether turkey or tofu, may your holiday be filled with love, gratefulness and of course, a few good laughs.

All the World's a Stage

“Alas poor Yorick , I knew him”….William Shakespeare

Hamlet said, gazing into the skull of his dead friend, so depressed from all his loss and troubles. If someone had told Hamlet, forgive, move on, be creative with your loss, and go talk to a medium to clean up your dead relatives issue, there might not be a play.

There are some things we must put to rest. Things become tired, worn out, the tenure is up, the expiration date is over,it's time to retire, and close the play.
What makes it so hard to give things up?

I recently had a client, whose father left after he was born and whose mother never gave him enough; emotionally or figuratively. At 50, he has a job he was successful in, but no longer is happy with, belongings he has no need for, ways of being in the world that no longer work for him, eating habits that are compromising his life, and when I asked him why he still hangs on, he said, “they are my security blanket, they are things that make me feel safe or remind me of my illustrious past”. The stage set for another act.
If we want to grow, move ahead, and be more of who were are called to be, we need to let the blanket go.

So I must walk my talk.

For me, acting, was a creative way to survive my young adult hood, exciting, fun, difficult, and permission to be someone other than me. Now like a worn out blanket it no longer serves me. If your heart is not there, neither will your spirit be. Strange, to have kept holding a space for something to come, when in fact, that space kept me from embracing the things that were right in front of me. The 30 year run of my professional acting life has closed.

Now, if I am on stage, it will be helping Hamlet, Harold or Hanna talk to the ghosts of their relatives, clearing up those difficult familial issues. And if I hold in my hand or talk to a skull, it will be in the field of homicide assisting detectives in their investigations, or with Max my crystal friend.

Here choose I. Joy be the consequence….William Shakespeare

Taking Flight

What are the natural instincts that tell a bird it is ready to fly?

Do they fear their debut?

What kind of birds are we, awkward, tentative, or embolden as we drop right out of our nest?

Do we fly because we must?

We all have opportunities for firsts, but we like our nests.

The place we are familiar and settled.

Who knew you could talk to the dead, produce a TV show, write a book,

and break oak boards with the soles of your feet.

You didn’t, until you left the place you knew.

There is plenty of wind out there, waiting for us to take flight.

The Heart of America is Purple

YES the heart of America has spoken, and it is purple; it is an exciting time in America. The color Purple is now what we see, no more Red or Blue states. This is the time of change.

Barack’s journey was certainly supported by numerous people, but it was Barack who had to step into this and make it happen. If Barack who was fatherless, raised by white grandparents can take his life and move it to an astonishing victory, then what does it tell us about what is possible?

What does this victory really mean? He is a representation of what can happen when people choose change. It didn't take much for people to walk to the voting booths and identify who they wanted to win. However it does take commitment, effort, and hard work to changing anything.
What happens now that is most important.

Are we willing to put into practice what we preach? Can we personally implement Change?

We can’t expect our leaders to make big differences for us. That could be a dangerous concession. Barack is an example; if he is a man of his word then he will stand by that and is time for us to do the same thing.

The Purple Heart symbolizes the deep struggle and wounding that one has suffered in battle.

America has chosen a symbol in Barack to remind us that there is life, and a powerful one, after such hardship.

No more excuses, no more oppression, no more fear, of what is not possible.

This is a call to change in the depths of our souls.

What are "we"....yes, you and me going to change?

Beware of Poppies

The gleeful chorus of the Emerald city dwellers....

YOU'RE OUT OF THE WOODS YOU'RE OUT OF THE DARK YOU'RE OUT OF THE NIGHT...STEP INTO THE SUN STEP INTO THE LIGHT....

As Dorthy and her team were on their way to see the wizard and were within reach of their quest.... they ran into a field of poppies.

A lovely distraction, a beautiful serene burst of nature. They were lulled into a deep sleep..and out of the ether's came a snow shower to wake them up. A dusting of ice to calm the affects of the hypnotic poppy.

They were willing to fight the good fight, face their fears and the danger, no matter the out come they took a journey. Their psychic spirit called upon the good witch to help them . They got up, dusted themselves off, made it to Oz, and fought to be seen.

Dorthy and her pals never felt they had what they needed when they met the little man behind the curtain. However, they found they already had inside of themselves, what they needed.

They had to look within, take personal responsibility and then and only then could they go home.

The tall poppy syndrome is when a poppy gets taller than the others , it is cut down to be uniform to the others. Dorthy stood tall and she found her way home.

Are we moving out of the dark into the light, or are we being lulled into the hypnotic mass of the poppies ?

The Invisible Made Visible

In the dark recesses of our lives, we all have secrets, things none of us want other people to know.

How much importance we put on these secrets means they either are just passing thoughts or they run our lives. There is an epidemic going on in our world right now. Things that people are hiding are now being revealed.

There is hypocrisy that is now being exposed in our financial, housing, judicial, and political markets. People are screaming for justice, and for some of us that justice is just below the surface of the skin.

What is not dealt with always comes up sooner or later, we must find the justice inside ourselves. Some people are wearing what they have denied, something that is literally eating away at them. What is invisible is being made visible. It will not be stopped because ones soul will not allow it. The nature of ones truth is not to be shackled or imprisoned by the past.

Some people have a ticking bomb inside their bodies thick plaque or a fragile artery. Those people don’t get to be warned before it’s too late. Some have manifested such pain in side the cells of their body that the cell actually becomes ill.

There are others that are fortunate in that their bodies are telling them every day that they are not only in trouble medically, they have emotional problems that have not been resolved. We all can see the pain.

No one of consciousness wants wants to say.”You know I can see the many years of secrets, abuse, criticism, shame and abandonment that happened to you by virtue of your inability to carry up the stairs the excess weight you have. How can I help relieve you from your burden?” But as we see their pain , our hearts can feel the misery of their hearts too.

How do we get to the point of deciding to change when we realize we have such burdens that were built from pain?

This is what I have pondered this last week. I have had a number of conversations with women and men who are struggling with excess weight. I think that our lives are a fractal of what is going on out there in the world. We literally have to address what has become obvious, before one gets so sick that they become diabetic, have a stroke or heart attack.

The heart stops working right , because it wasn't working right.

Spirit will give you an opportunity to think about your pain, and hopefully you will find the love you so easily give others, must be bypassed to YOU.

There is truth to the idea that God taps you first, then nudges, you, then slaps you and if you really don’t feel what is going on, he will hit you over the head with a brick. Let’s make sure that does not happen.

Your invisible thoughts, and secret actions when filled with love for you, will begin to radiate your truth instead of your pain. Then the burden you carry … will become less.

Responsibility...

.... the state or position of being accountable to somebody or for something, the blame for something that has happened, authority to act to make decisions independently …..a duty.

I woke with a dream after the first debates. I was struck with the word “responsibility”.

This word inside my head played itself out in various scenarios. Starting first with the obvious , others not taking responsibility. There is so much frustration and the anger all over the world. Now it is in our back yard in a way we can't ignore. So how do we change all of this?

I watched a scene from the TV show Mad Men and was mesmerized with the immense selfishness and entitlement we all possess. Don takes his family to a park for a picnic just after he has bought the new car. He’s concerned about his car getting dirty on the inside from his kids. In preparation to leave the park, the camera man pulls back to a wide shot of the family picking up the blankets and shaking them out. They conveniently leave behind all the trash. Chinett napkins and Dixi cups scatter in the wind. That action and the obliviousness of the whole family to not seeing their mess and taking responsibility to pick it up, spoke volumes to the emotional life of not just the family but the era. The unconscious mental murmur of somebody else will clean up my mess.

It’s like the image I have stuck in my head of GW Bush on Letterman during his first run for the Presidency. The show was going to commercial and instead of moving right way, the camera lingered on Bush. A page, sent to reset Dave’s desk passes in front of Bush. GW Bush unabashedly reached up, grabbed the edge of her sweater and cleaned his glasses with it.

We are going to see things in the next few months that no one will have predicted , not even a good psychic, but we can feel them already.

Unless I take full responsibility for me and what I do, then I can’t change anything. Clearly we see this with our elected officials and the news media but why not start at home. A personal act of responsibility would be to deal with your own garbage, clean up your own mess, and stop blaming others.

So I guess we do have the whole world in our hands.

Clearing the Path

We are all on a path. Some of us have taken a circuitous route to where we are.

I turned 50 this week. I contemplated a big ole' bash to celebrate, but I am too much of a hostess to be able to enjoy my own parties, and many of my closest friends are out of town so I opted for another form of honoring my life.

In preparation for this milestone I decided to face things that have prevented me from feeling free, places in my life where there has been resistance or fear, obstacles that I created and tossed on my path to derail me.

Many of these issues are about being public.

Once one makes a declaration like that, there are going to be some profound breakdowns.

The first thing that showed up in my facing fears was being hired to shoot a TV show/documentary about the fringe conversation of UFO's and alien abduction/ contact. A subject that for many is just to crazy to contemplate, but for me it has been a dance of attraction and repulsion.Stepping up and really becoming a part of this "conversation" was dangerous to me.

I came out of this illuminated , and deeply compassionate to the participants who are experiencing this daunting topic . I found myself honored to be a conduit in this program and giving up the fear associated with being "connected" to this subject.

I had to face my resistance to writing "the book" the beginning to a series of material that has been gestating.
Framing how I got to this point in my life and to share this with the public has been something that is easy for me to resist. But my soul would not let me rest. So as I declared I would focus on this book, a famous author shows up on my path to assist me in the process. She will be my task master as I face this public voice.

I have been an actress for 30 years. I am still fortunate to work in a very uncertain industry, however I am called to share my gifts of "connecting " and being with the public in service doing the mediumship and psychic work.

The acting was a way I have handled surviving my life. Being someone else, for most of my life was much safer than being me.

I was given a talent for singing. However I resisted that gift, and found myself not pursuing musical work, even though I loved it, I was too terrified to audition for things. This is not uncommon for actors to not enjoy the audition process , but this was a huge place of resistance a place that I had not gone in 10 years, a place that the mere mention of singing in public would make me break out in a sweat.

So what shows up right before my 50th birthday was having my husband cast as the lead in a seriously difficult musical piece. I have always been fine with him going away to work but this time it bothered me, so he said " why not do the show with me". A clever solution, but not easily remedied.

The director then invited me to audition for the two of the lead female roles.

A terror like never before welled up inside of me. This was a moment that my soul had called forth to face. Something grabbed a hold of me and made me confront this horrible fear.
I took it on like my life depended on it. Four songs and four monologues I had to prepare in four days.

My husband Jeff, assisted me to prepare which was an added bonus of taking care of myself. It was joyous gift to work with him.

I became the driver of a huge emotional bulldozer in clearing this path . I refused to stop until I was prepared and in that audition hall. Singing my ass off, and having ....a ball.

I was for the first time in my whole life present to the daunting process that had terrorized me since I was cast as Cinderella in first grade.

I was completely satisfied. A vibrational exercise in musical expression and crafting emotion that my soul demanded. Getting cast would be nice, but I did my job, and I am happy with that.

So I celebrated walking on a path I had chosen to clear, symbolically captured in this photo that was taken by Jeff on my 50th, as we joyously walked to the cliffs above the ocean in Santa Barbara.

There is a part of all of us that stops us from being our best. We all have fears that keep us from flowing in right resonance. Strange obstacles we keep in our way of having extraordinary lives.


When we make a choice to face our fears, we not only get the opportunities to confront them, but we get help in clearing the path.

WARNING: Psychic FRAUD!

Before you read this, know that I detest charlatans trolling for business and abhor the intrusive attempt to foster fear in people.

This story was just emailed to me:

"I was in Target today and this woman, Angelina, came up to me and said that she's a psychic and that she got a strong feeling that there were things she had to share with me, messages about my luck and other things (can't remember now exactly what they were) and she wouldn't have been able to sleep if she didn't tell me this. She gave me her card and invited me to contact her."

....These people are looking for your business, period.

....They use fear “knowing” things about you and pray on that fear to get you to call them.

....They, typically, will tell you that you have a curse on you.

.... and IF you do call, they will tell you that for just a few hundred dollars they can remove that curse, and restore your good karma.

Bull shit.

It is my experience, these fraudulent women who prey on unsuspecting shoppers in the aisles of malls and supermarkets are cons.

They rely on your fear to “lure” you into making an appointment to see them for a bogus reading.

IF, and I mean IF, a legitimate psychic gets a hit on you and feels that they HAVE to tell you something, the appropriate thing for them to do is ask you if you are at all interested in what they have to say. If they have an urgent message for you then they should offer the message for FREE.

Real psychics who have your best interest at heart and are in true service with their gift, would NEVER intrude with ominous premonitions.

If you are ever confronted in a shopping center by someone claiming to have psychic information for you, tell them, “Yes, I am psychic too, and I “see” you being arrested for harassment.”

To the MAX

Where would I get the idea that sitting with a 18 pound piece of quartz crystal configured in the shape of a human skull with large, orthodontia perfected teeth would be fun??

I remember the first time I was mesmerized by touch. I was probably 5 years old in the company of my mother who took me to a local dress shop. I stood bedside a table and found a piece of fabric draped over the edge. I stayed there, transfixed by the feel of it. And so the exploration of touch started. In eating food, I had to feel it before I could eat it. I had to know where it came from. In meeting people, I had to touch them or their clothes before I could trust them.
I just had to touch things to "know," and that has developed over the years into an ability called psychometry, feeling an object to reveal information. Visions of places, feelings, thoughts and words flood into my head.

This ability has assisted me with clients and law enforcement for years. I know that the piezoelectric currents that run though crystal is something worth understanding and how certain minerals hold frequencies based on their chemical structure that can affect us as easy as taking a pill. Holding a rock can sometimes be just as satisfying as a well aged wine, without the calories. Silicon dioxide provides numerous applications for connecting information. So with that in mind, I wondered what Max, a crystal Skull handed down by a Tibetan red hat Lama to a woman in Texas could do for me.

I had interviewed for the web cast show Dreamland, the authors of “Mystery of the Crystal Skulls” and I kept being pulled to the story of Max, the new "Indiana Jones" movie paled in comparison to the folklore surrounding some of these skulls, so I set myself on “interviewing Max”.
I nervously laughed, thinking that I was actually hearing from this skull. If talking to dead folks isn’t strange enough, I believed I was hearing from Max, beckoning me for a clandestine tryst.

I thought I might have to take a trip to Texas where he lives with his keeper JoAnn Parks,but no, Max was too kind, he decided to come near me, and I started to get emails from friends of Max’s telling me and where to find him.

I was in my kitchen, cooking a nice turkey spaghetti sauce when I heard the way I do in my head, "Go to the computer and you will have a message from one of my friends telling you where I will be." And there it was, a lovely note from a woman saying Max will be in Santa Monica, a mere 25 miles from me. I made a date.

What does one wear for a date with a crystal skull…? I took my tape recorder, put on some lipstick, crystal pink for the occasion, and drove to my destiny.
Getting past his keeper was an exercise in having to listen to all the successes that a stage mother could muster, as she was just as proud of Max as any spelling bee or Olympic champion. JoAnn is the guardian, of Max a celebrity, healer, and .....Spiritual dignitary.
I was briefly amused at the gullibility of people feeling that some probably ‘hand carved’ piece of rock could have an effect on anyone.

One by one people came away from the room where Max held court, with doe eyed red faces. New age stupor, or were they really affected?
I took my tape recorder in. He was lit underneath, and was sitting on this beautiful embroidered fabric. I immediately felt relaxed.

What happened in the next 45 minutes was a combination of IMAX special effects, various vibrational changes throughout my body, information about me, politics, loved ones, acquaintances, work, animals, Egyptian deities, winged beings, powerful out of this world consultants, and UFOs. Max told me to put my forehead on his, and WHAM I was propelled on a journey that I almost resisted, but allowed to unfold, and I recorded the details.
He ended the session singing to me, and then instructed me to take his picture…humorously he loved my phone camera and after taking me around the world pointing out specific geographical references he said we were done, and, we were dear friends.

Nothing prepared me for that. I drove home to my books of geography and Egypt and found not only the names were recorded, but also the specific points of geographical interest I would never have known, unless Max pointed them out. His way of confirming that he knew what he was talking about.

I am still integrating the facinating information that Max shared with me. This experience shines the light on the idea that Max might be a powerful organic computer, ancient oracle, or perhaps my new pet rock. What ever he is, Max certainly has created a new awareness in my truly amazing life.

" Real " Change

I have finally found a book that addresses the conversation of consciousness better than any I have ever read.

Yes, it became popular because of Oprah, and in this case I say ” thank God for Oprah”.

She has used her celebrity to address many of the topics that she is curious and passionate about, especially her profound endorsement of Obama.

There is much talk about “change” but before any of us can truly implement this new form of awareness in our nation, we must do it within ourselves. Otherwise we are just followers of a “nice idea”, and perhaps witnesses’ to a hollow victory, if we as Americans do not take responsibility for our own thoughts and actions.

This book is for anyone who is curious about transformation, personal awareness and consciousness. It has a resonance that will alter how you think about your pain, your fears and how you keep it all in place with your ego.

Let us find the courage to stand behind real "change "within ourselves first.

....Allergies

Our bodies create barriers to invaders; sounds, food, pathogens, allergens.

How do we keep ourselves safe in life’s Petri dish?

What are these strong reactions in our bodies to the energy of a room, a person, an object, historical events, even places?

I think it is perfect to look at the things that our in our lives that we are “allergic” to.

Things that create upset in our systems that need to be identified and addressed.

Doctors can measure the amount of energy that a certain part of the body is resonating with; it can be read, and tracked, by medical equipment. They can prove that “our thoughts” have consequences in the body.

I have seen facilitators talk to a patients about their emotional problems. Just the mention of a patient’s current problem in a relationship can change levels of energy running though the body. The “chi” ( energy) will dramatically drop, plummet, disappear….and the “charge “ of energy in the body, will be drastically altered, just by the mention of a troubling situation.

Can it be that we are allergic to our thoughts?

Why this is not the first part of wellness to learn what upsets our body, find the true source of the irritation, and learn to eliminate it.

Sometimes we have to get really sick in order to see what makes us so ill, and many times we continue to be irritated, allergic, and suffer until we identify what is really the culprit.

Do you love yourself enough to figure this out?

...Information

Hearing information from Spirit is why I do what I do.

It is "intuition perfection", to be given love from the deceased, or benevolent and important information from the universe.

It is the nature of my work that people want to talk to specific deceased people, to have particular questions answered. They want to “know” things but they also sense that they will be surprised.

My work has not been dissected to meet all scientific requirements to satisfy skeptics. It does not come with a manual, a road map. It is not like a recipe for a cake. I wish it was that simple.

I do try my best to prepare people. I explain how I work, what usually happens, and what TO EXPECT…none the less there are surprises. Imagine a loved one who passed , a fundamentalist, who belonged to a specific organized Christian sect, communicating with their living family members saying….

“ Hey EVERYONE is here, even the Catholics and Jews!” What a surprise!

It is a grab bag, filled with surprise.

You might not get exactly what you wanted, but, what's perfect is …what you get.. is exactly what you needed.

....Teachers

Teachers come into our lives when we the students are ready, ...or not.

I was born to a family of teachers who didn’t like their roles, who were not ready for me. Who ever sent me through to them, must have thought I was ready…or not.

Teachers come in all forms; there is nothing more educational than a good set of germs or an injury to our body to teach us the merit of our health.

Teachers come because we need them.

The best teachers are the ones who mirror to us our greatest qualities, those who can see us, and take a “stand” for who we are, even when we don’t know who we are. Those teachers who can see our essence can change our lives forever.

I recently had the great pleasure to interview for the radio web cast show “Dreamland” one of my finest teachers.

Twenty-five years ago, when I was twenty five, I went to see my first psychic, Sonia Choquette. It was a turning point in my life to meet the mind and soul of the woman who put me on my path of intuition.

We were both so young, yet she was ancient in her wisdom and knowledge. Her abilities of psychic information were stunning, but it was how she mirrored the truth that was right under the surface of my skin, the true spirit within that was life altering.

After years of having my own gifts thwarted, denied and discouraged I was finally seen, set free, validated and empowered in who I was supposed be whether I was ready… or not.

It is perfect intuition to come full circle and acknowledge a teacher.

A Series on the Perfection of Intuition.....Nature

Spirit has a way of making things happen that are simply perfect.

Not perfect to us when we are traversing the messiness of a situation or its feelings, but perfect that when we have a chance to look and “see” we find out that it was all perfect.

Recently my 10 year old cat, who fancies himself a Dandy, got into a bit of a scrap. This Dandy’s days are diminishing as his wound was on his hind flank so you know he was running away. The flank swelled with infection, and like a good mommy I took him to the hospital.

Meanwhile I am hunting for the perpetrator in the neighborhood who lashed out at my kid, the vagrant who bullied my tabby into a scrap. Get your kid vaccinated!...would be my rant, when I met up with them, but I had a tight schedule and doing meds and taking care of my kid, kept me just on a low simmer, never found the perps parents.

He came home with a soft collar like a little musketeer his saber lost in battle but happy oh so happy to be home.

The vet who did a lovely job of cutting along that Neapolitan color line of his skin, said, “Well, glad you got him in here,... when we went into clean out the the abscess there was a fatty deposit underneath , encapsulated from another injury and it was turning necrotic, you might not have recognized it until he was very sick”

What a strange blessing. In nature we wonder why a mother would kill a pup who was the runt, or stallion stomp out his sire. We are grateful for the bully who sent our boy to the hospital, he of course knew more than we.

The intuition to know when something is not right and make it known, even in nature, is perfection.

Truth and Consequences

People often ask me, “Can you do this work for yourself, can you be psychic for YOU”

That is one of the most upsetting things about this work. I get discombobulated, and sometimes even mad that I was right about situations that come into my personal world. It’s so contrary to the typical confirmation that is revealed for others, specifics that make me good at what I do. I am still working on being gracious about the information given to ME.

My husband says to me all the time” but you knew this was going to happen, why are you so upset?” These are my screaming moments when I am less than gracious about “knowing”. It is the child still in me who had to intuit things in my home that were not so pleasant, wishing things were better. As an adult I must grow up and face the clairvoyance of my own situations, and accept the gift, even if it is not what I want to hear.

Spirit in its infinite wisdom is very kind. “They” give me fair warnings, and then push me as a reminder, if I have not heeded the warnings, I will get hit upside the head, with the truth.
In the nature of my business it is not uncommon for associates to want to “test” my skills and psychic prowess; a not so unconscious competitiveness. But I was not raised a serious athlete I was a baton twirler. My competitive skills limited to marching and tossing. I was always the kid who handed over the ball, and said “you win”.

You want to be smarter, you want to think you know more, ok fine, you win, now can we get back to taking care of business?

I continue to think and believe that people will admit their fears and insecurities. But really, how many people want to do that?

My husband has gotten into some pretty tricky business dilemmas, now did I “see” that there might be a problem, YES , but, each of us have their own journey, and we all have things to learn. I have been blinded to crucial pieces of information until Spirit is ready to reveal.

I have to think it is for the “greater good” But it is quite the day in my house when I am finally “given the information” that could have saved us years of time and energy.

Me running around the house yelling “oh my God finally the smoking gun, why now, why not two years ago!!???” It is a brilliant moment.

Who am I to question Spirit, yet I do all the time. The truth shall set you free, but first it will piss you off.

Rest In Pieces

The majority of my work is maneuvering around the dynamics of families who are still very upset about what they did not get from their deceased parents.

I've listened to scores of upset “children” who didn’t want to talk to a dead parent, even though the parent wanted to apologize for whatever wounds they may have inflicted during life.

The parents set up this dynamic. They set up the amount of love sprinkled or smothered on each child, and they now get to see the error of their ways from ...heaven.

It is a grave error for the living not to take the opportunity to hear an apology through a medium, -- I mean how many chances do we get to hear that?

In my heart it is never too late.

What I find fascinating, is that, in some cases, deceased parents know how their children are still behaving after they die and they want to talk about it.

What inevitably happens is a child from a dysfunctional family did not feel they got enough from one or both of the parents. So they silently scream by saying, “I did all the work and yet I wasn’t the favorite... I wasn’t the one mother loved more... I didn’t get enough... I am going to make my siblings pay for the fact that THEY got more love than I did... I deserve everything I can get my hands on. Gimme her shoes -- gimme his pipe -- her spoon collection -- give me something, give me EVERYTHING!!!! "

The wounded child's lawless heart, pushed aside true feelings while their parents were still alive. Still starving after the parents passing, the children now try to fill their gaping emotional holes with their parents belongings.

There was no love law in the house. There was no real justice -- so why should there be now?

Recently, I took a few friends to see another medium, Brian Hurst( who was the medium years ago who told James Van Praagh that some day, James would be doing this work) to get a feel for how other mediums opperated. This medium did not know me or anything about me. We sat down and immediately he started with me....oye.

“Your father is talking about Darcy and how greedy she got. He is most distressed about that and who took the jewelry. Why did she behave that way?”

I was shocked. Why would my deceased father need to address something that happened four years ago? Even though I do this work, I was still stunned he knew what happened and wanted to talk about it from "over there".

Darcy was my parent’s housekeeper, confidant of my mother and member of my family since I was six. She had been given money by the will, numerous household and personal items ,but it was not satisfactory to her, she wanted more. It was my sibling who had only some of my mothers jewelry appraised after it was removed from the estate, not all. Their scrambling for pieces of what was left of my family was very upsetting.

I realized, that their needy behavior and their deep resentment toward me was caused by my, manipulative, withholding and punishing mother. My mother using things to hold over their heads as a prize for their loyalty. It was evident that I was not the only person my mother hurt.

I understood their pain. It helped me forgive their shortcomings.

It is a blessing anytime we can see things differently; this was great gift from my father in Spirit.

The dead know what we do and how we really feel. They grieve as their children grab for the remaining pieces of their lives. They just know.

Great and Full

Oh my God to be grateful. There are so many who have altered my course, enriched my soul, visited me in realms that illuminated investigation way beyond my comprehension. Souls whose journeys intertwine, slip in for a brief visit, or haunt me with memories to fill a day of rain.

It is an amazing journey to be what I think is a Spirit in a physical form. Being human is hard. The difficulties of human emotion is what makes humans so extraordinary and yet so vulnerable. How defensive one has to be to survive the roads, office, home and space of others, let alone our minds.

We are coddled here in America with the remote control to other lands. We do not have to slay the moose to eat. We are not forced to pray that our café will not be bombed, at least not yet.

I love the freedom of knowing that there is always more. I am so grateful that my blinders only come in hormonal fluctuations. That a mood can be altered by the brief laughter of a stranger, and that what I have learned is only the shimmering tip of an iceberg.

I love the trains in NYC that are a haven of humanity. Yesterday I sat with Yankee fans caught up in the emotion of winning. Those anonymous enthusiastic lives briefly shared, are welcomed, energy so infectious and invigorating; I ran home to do my laundry.

I have met those whose life is fleeting, and they hunger to stay, others who don’t like who they are and want to leave, some who know they will die in months and are resigned to moving on.

Any of you who come to my world and visit have left an impression. Oh my God I am so grateful.

The Resonance of Knowing

When you meet me, you might wonder if you will be found out. Well yes,..... if I choose to look.

I don’t waste my time going where I am not invited. I try to have a life with out you in it, so let’s keep this about the work.

You have been to someone like me, or you would not be reading this. You think of me when a problem arises that burns with time and uncertainly that makes you want to hear truth, or help which is it for you? To me it is the same.

So you seek me out. I am not for first timers, I work best with smart, gifted people who are never afraid when they are with me, only what others might think later.

Perhaps in the morphic field of knowing is where I picked up these abilities. For certain I had to intuit what the next assault would be by hand or mouth; that day in day out lesson of protecting myself with “the knowing.”

You are anxious that someone at work will know you have seen me, and you a lawyer, a bureaucrat, a politician, studio head, doctor, therapist, behavioral scientist, law enforcement officer, Yale graduate, scholar , soccer mom, you want to know, but wont admit you have called me. You will talk about me to the closest of friends, slip them my card, or call me something that fits your story.

I can remember your dead relatives, not because I knew them in life, but because when you came to see me ten years ago, they showed themselves to me, their longings, sadness, their joy for getting the opportunity to talk again to you. They are my friends, and I remember them when you walk in a room.

Together we have a resonance of knowing.

At parties you smile when you see me, but you can’t stay to talk, you leave when someone inquires what I do. I can feel you in my radar, I welcome you. I will think of you , and you will call.. never really apart, together forever in the resonance of knowing.

It is lonely doing what I do. Those who need me, want me, and those who do not want to know, stay far away.

YOU be the Change

I am making a promise to myself in going back into the “conversation”. The work I did with my life coaching mentor. If you hang with a group of people who think certain things, who “say” certain things, you become that conversation. I want to be around the people who want the conversation of transformation and growth but,…. for real. These are people who want to take responsibility for what they do and say in their lives.

The thing that concerns me about our national interest in change, is the fact that getting behind one candidate is not really about transformation, it's about getting behind someone. Now if you are committed to change then you don’t need a person to do that for you, you can do it, in spite of any person in the public doing it for you.

Once again it is the beliefs that we adhere to that create our lives. If you believe you need a redeemer, you will find one. What if you believed that you are a redeemer?
I don’t care if you are a democrat, white, back, female or a war vet. It is the personal responsibility to as Gandhi said " be the change you want to see in the world."It concerns me that people don’t think that they can do it themselves, they want someone to lead them.

In my opinion, the trouble in electing our last president was that we as a young nation still needed a “father” figure. Someone who would get in there and kick the sh** out of anyone who was hurting us. A veiled confident voice to tell us things that would make us feel better, as a father would speak to his children when they were too young to handle the truth. We still don’t really know the reason for all the Bush years, but as my Spiritual Cosmic Congress has told me,….electing GWB was about getting the opportunity to “see” things; the puppetry of the government. To have shadow exposed. A father playing cowboy, with real bullets. Are we really interested in the truth now?

Now, we have become a nation of exposure, the expose' of everyone. TV has become a tabloid contest in promoting narcissism. The news spins, twists and contorts information. The news papers that we believed were sound investigative places for truth , have turned Brittney Spears, a deeply wounded fading pop icon, into a headline. Why?

People are in pain and looking for anything that will distract themselves from their lives. People want change in their lives but from an outside source. They want drama to make them think and feel different about themselves. To watch someone rise to the top and fall is the pathetic entertainment of our culture. It takes courage to change these cutural illnesses, but it must start from within.

If you want change, start with what you cannot seem to be with.

Bigotry? Become tolerant and teach what you learn. Violence? Work with organizations to support your communities to keep you and your family safe.
Hate? Coming to grips with your own feelings about things is the first step, understanding that there is a history to those feelings , and working through them is crucial, to find compassion for yourself and others.

If you want to change things, you cannot continue to be around other people who do not speak the way you want to. Fraternization, is an incestuous way of becoming permeated with others thoughts . Surround yourself with people who are really interested in transformation. First with themselves, before they can make a difference in the world.

Who ever inspires you will tell you that YOU can do what they have done, perhaps not in the same way, but your own special unique way that colors the world.

Before you sign up for change BE that change you want to see in the world.

Psychic, Whats in a Word?

This word leaves some people cold. What images get conjured up in people minds? Some strange short woman with an accent you can’t identify, bangled ears, head wrapped in a turban, beckoning you from a dimly lit door way? A con artist store front where you are told you have been cursed by a witch and you have to pay $5000 to get rid of it?

Before you shell out a dirty 20, check references.

There are crooks in every business one must be careful not to let your need for help drive you into a place of desperation.

Terrifying…I guess that is why some of us call ourselves clairvoyant. Now that sounds special, sounds smarter, sounds less cheap, sounds a bit stuffy to me. Intuitive? Ok…let’s call a spade a spade.

Look we are psychics, the North American Encarta dictionary says “a person able to perceive that which is beyond the range of human senses, relating to the human mind, outside the sphere of scientific knowledge extraordinary sensitivity to non physical or supernatural forces”

I will tell you how the psychic part works for me.

If I sit with you and you tell me you are having a house problem. I will allow myself to see in my mind your house. Sometimes it is the exact color, and I allow the vision to unfold…I can see the house then I might see the drive way, and it seems to be sinking in, cracking, and now I know why you are having problems,…I can “see” that the structure is compromised and then I might hear “ you can fix it, and you must go the route of the law…there is something wrong with the agreement between the seller of the house or the contractor , and they both may be liable"

I have provided the information that on some level you needed …and we move on…working “outside the scientific knowledge, with extraordinary sensitivities”.

In a week or two, or sometimes even a year, you might tell me it was true.

The Presence of Pinky

Can you see what I see?

It hides in rooms where fear is the smell of the air, where no one can see it because of the buzzing highway of words, or where a distraction of hands are swatting irritating details of grand old stories bringing the past back to life.

More distraction like food, scuttled around for moving lips with heavy drink tossed down each throat to dim the eyes from seeing IT.

"IT", the F******g big ass pink pachyderm presence who has set up camp in the room.

I have been to homes where no one addressed the grandeur of this "being" taking up so much space in hearts and minds. So big that everyone does anything to avoid it.

Cousins Ruth's weight, the sexual tension between uncle Bob and sister Irene, the money John owes Jim, Diane's cancer, Daves affair, the fart that Fred sounded, daddy's drinking, the seething hate of a jealous woman.

The energy it takes to feed this beast is the energy of holding the space for it to be ignored. That's why it stays around.
Ignoring it feeds it, and it is happy to sit there waiting. Waiting for someone to acknowledge it and set it free.

Are we the animals in our own zoo? Caged by our abhorrent behavior, acting out with falsehoods, numbing pain with denial? Why are we holding our tongues, not setting free the truth? Name what it is and lets send Pinky packing.

Poop Free Zone

There is no stink like the fresh steaming dump from a dog.

That contradiction of love and devotion from mans best friend, reminds us that not everything or everyone is perfect.

Dogs don’t pick up their poo, they don’t even have the decorum to bury it like their feline adversaries, I don't think they care, but we still love them.

This is a metaphor of what can happen when someone you are in a relationship with, won’t clean up their shit, instead they dump it on you.

If someone dumps on you what do you do? Explain it? Excuse it? Justify the dump?

pretend it just didn't happen?

You cant ignore it, the smell will remind you it is there. If you stick your finger in it, then you smell like poo too. If you stir it, well… you know. It is important we learn to say "no pooping here", an emotional zone of protection. Training others to curb their upsets. What happens when one has an "accident"?

There is something constructive we can do with poo. I suggest that we transform into into something we can use, but not sling.

Scoop it up, and take it to your garden. Let it transform to help something else grow.

My mother in-law once said “ a flower has to push through a lot of shit before it can reach the sun”, so do we.

Are You Rooted in Pain ?

Are the roots of your family tree a source of nourishment, or a tangled web of emotional pain?

" Just get me out of this pain,” is what I always hear.

Pain exists to tell you that there is something wrong.

If you have not looked at what causes the pain, you will never have the opportunity to heal it.

Only with awareness come change.

Perhaps you have come to a place in your life where your life is no longer working because of this pain. You create loss in every area, marriage, jobs, health, family, siblings, friends and joy. Anyone who comes in contact with you, will be subject to your pain if you have not addressed it .

Have you imprisoned yourself, cutting out of your life those who challenge you? This myriad of self protection created an inauthentic self, to protect you from deep emotional pain.

This “breakdown” was created by your soul and spirit, to give you an opportunity to change. You have to take responsibility and shed light on what pain really is in your life in order to change it.

The introspection of this is crucial or you will go to your grave bitter, unhappy, filled with betrayal, regret and longing. Part of that energetic legacy will be passed on to family or friends when you die.

How did this happen?

You were wounded by an event, a series of events where someone removed love.
In order to protect yourself, you have produced a false sense of self.

You became afraid or upset, not having the appropriate tools to help you at a young age, so you developed a damaging way to protect yourself.

Do you spend your life overcompensating for these wounds by distracting yourself out of your predicament? Crafting businesses too big to be challenged, empires of mental strength to support your image.

Do you put yourself on stage in a desperate attempt to process your pain, you become other people" The “characters you play” give the permission you need to “act out” the deep emotion you could never express as a child. Finding “who you really are” takes dedication.The investment in transformation far outweighs the price of a Harvard acting degree.
Do you turn to drugs or alcohol because you cannot stand the “frequency” that this harsh emotional upset and wounding has created in your body; emotion so disturbing that your body cannot process it so you think you must be medicated? Or you blame others in silent contracts, because you think it gives you power?

The point is, if you are in great pain you must take responsibility for knowing that something is not working. What do you do? Nothing can be changed unless you have awareness.

If you are conscious you can see what caused your wounds. If you are angry and feeling like a victim of your childhood, you must find a way to process this. It takes work, compassion, patience and love.

Your cognitive dissonance will keep you resisting new information that you don't want to think about. You could stay in denial , however if you don’t seek the help, you will continue to project and inflict your wounded self image onto those who you claim to love or those who you have conveniently and perhaps silently blamed for your life. The secrets you keep are insidious poison and only truth shall set you free.

Counselors , therapists, coaches, friends, and relatives who have gone through transformational work can assist you . The act of seeking help produces helpers.

You may seem successful with money, but to what end? What good is money when you are bankrupt emotionally? You can accept awards, be lauded for your work, but you go home disappointed. This cannot really be tolerated by your Soul and Spirit, so it lashes out, regurgitates the pain . You will see in the eyes of others how damaging your pain is.

If you do not deal with these issues, you will continue to pull people and situations to you that mirror your pain.

It is only through the courageous process of loving yourself enough to get help, then drawing to you people who resonate healing and love, for you to be able to transform your affliction. I call this in our TV culture life, “an intervention of the soul”.

You must untangle what has rooted you in pain before you can ever move beyond the pain of the past.

The Meaning of Stuff

As the umpire says “ it ain’t a ball until I call it a ball”. You do that with everything in your life…you create the meaning.

You've put meaning on everything around you. You've developed a life filled with “stuff” that you have attached meaning to. That stuff only enforces the “meaning “you have attached to it.

Have you ever watched a hoarder? Someone who can not give up the obsessive compulsive need to keep things that the hoarder “thinks” has significant meaning.


You, always choose the meaning.


A beat up box with tinker toys that were your dead brothers, a school jacket reminiscent of your football glory days, your fathers pipe, your grandmother’s favorite broach coveted by all your family.

Without the “meaning’ you attach, they're just things.

Is your life filled with extraneous stuff to pull your attention to old memories because you don’t like the memories you now create?

Does "stuff" represent power or love?

When you look at that old silver candlestick are you reminded of the love that your mother gave or didn't give you?

There is the “Antiques Road Show” that will give more meaning to your stuff, and EBay to make sure you get more stuff.

The meaning you give to everything in your life has created the life you live.

My motto when helping to clear out peoples lives is “when in doubt throw out” if you have doubt as to why you need something, then you don’t need it.

What do you need??... is my question.

What things for your soul will you choose to give meaning to? You have crafted a life by the meaning you have given everything; how’s that working for you?

Beware of "Bling"

Objects retain energy.


I am suspect of all antiques. Anything worn or regularly used by someone retains the essence of that owner.

The energy can be “read” by sensitive people like me, it is called psychometry.

I have clients who have purchased antique furniture, and ended up having to get rid of the bed, for numerous humorous reasons.

There are things that “just don’t make ya feel right” if you wear them.

Stones, and metal worn by women in emotional bondage, such as a slaves, servants or captive wives of powerful men, imbue the metal with their emotional imprint.

I have worked with NYC jewelers who could not sell a certain vintage item highly coveted as either estate or museum piece. The price for such items because of their age is high. So was the emotional price paid by the person who wore it.

Photos also retain information. I prefer to work with the crime scene photos in law enforcement cases. The information contained in the photos is emotional vibration of the victim, and or crime scene, When held, objects and photos can tell what happened before and after the event.

The moral of this story; pay attention to how anything you wear or live with “feels”.

Remember if you want Grandma's jewelry she best be a good person.
....If Granny's a Bitch, don’t wear her "bling".

Navigating the Waves

I was placed on a patched up quilt under the big blue umbrella after tackling my first wave.

I picked at the edges while sucking my thumb. The sun was warm and I could see each member of my family.

My father bobbed carefree and alone reclined in a wave.He was white like a beluga, but not traveling anywhere just drifting, like a piece of wood.

My mother standing in the shallows, hands on hips posed, her feet seemingly stuck in wet sand.

My sister reading with her back turned, cast a long shadow beside me.

I was just shy of turning one, and yet I felt something was wrong.

In retrospect this image was the metaphor for my family life.

My father chose to float on a steady tide of cheap whiskey. My mother just grew angry waiting for him to either drown or wash away, incensed at keeping him afloat between drinks. My sister chose various modes of departure to escape, resolved to leave me in her wake.

I became a lifeguard to not only save others but myself.

I was only one and yet I had been alerted to my family obstacles.

It took years for me to come to grips with all those waves shallows and shadows.

I had to trust that I was born into my family for a reason.

I have experience of navigating those waves that makes me have faith in myself.

The Mystery of the Veil

My work is confusing sometimes.

Why am I given crucial information for a stranger and not for a dear friend?

I think there is a veil that separates us from spiritual knowledge. How we open it is a mystery to me.

I had a woman come to a small group and from my standards, it was a great evening of information.

Two months later, I received a message on my phone service from a perky voice, reminding me, that she had been to that group. She said, that as she was leaving, I stopped her and said, “I think it is important you have your left breast checked” -- the veil was removed.

The perky phone voice then said, “I saw my Doctor and I am so relieved, because I was in first stage breast cancer. I went through treatment and I am fine, just fine!” …. I sank into the dining room chair, shaking. She was fine and I was dumbfounded, so blown away that her thank yous' landed on my ears like wind chimes. There were tears, but they were mine.

I’m not a medical doctor and I’m very careful about giving any sort of medical information, yet it happens. My perspective is that it’s not me. It's information that was available through the grace of Spirit. This lovely healthy woman said she had come to see me on a “whim”, yet, thankfully, she was receptive to information that was seeming life saving for her.

One of my dearest friends, however, had a cold for over a year. The hometown Doctor treated her with antibiotics and then when that didn’t work, some inhalers. “Oh, you know, even the country air of Pennsylvania can make ya sick.” Said the Doctor. This troubled me, but I was caught up in having to deal with my own life, my own health maladies and clients.

The veil was in place-- all I could say to her was, “I think you need to go see a different doctor”.

She did.

While walking in the middle of Manhattan, I stopped infront of a store window and my phone rang. It was my dear friend Diane. She said, “Marla, I have stage four ovarian cancer”. I was staring at a fancy alabaster mannequin, in a fancy mortgage payment priced blue blouse; it is odd what we remember when we are in crisis.

What the hell are these psychic gifts for if I can’t see something life threatening for a priceless friend? I could tell her what house she was going to sell and for how much, or what sex her soon to be grandchild would be, but not the most crucial of all information.

We had 7 months to ponder all the "whys".

I must trust that there a reason, a lesson, a plan beyond my reasoning or I could not do the work I do.

It is the mystery of the veil. Where everything I thought I knew, I don’t. Where information is revealed for some and not others. Where finding out about an illness can create new awareness and appreciation for how precious life is, and how the journey to death and transformation does just the same.

I am filled with awe and wonder why the veil is in place for some like a karmic shroud, and for others it is lifted.

Building Bridges

“HEY, don’t cancel the party! Get those cookie cutters out and start baking!!!”… That was the way the evening started when a father, in Spirit, blurted out his holiday directive for his daughter.

I was working with a small group of successful, amazing women, who patiently waited for their opportunity to talk to dead relatives.

We were all taken back by such a powerful personality, and we wondered "who" was making himself known?

It was Karen who raised her hand to tell us her father had passed and she had planned a Christmas cookie baking party, but because she was grieving over the loss of her dad, she considered canceling.

He loved her so, and even though he was now in Spirit, he still maintained his special personality, love and humor. Yep, he wanted her to share in the family's traditional joy of the holiday, and bake those cookies! He popped in again, "Tell Ginny to sell the house"."Ginny" was not one of the women in the group. Karen said, "my mothers name is Virginia"..

Apparently the family had struggled with the issue of selling the house, it seemed the father was now giving his blessing for his wife, to move on.

A father, his daughter and me were carving out a path; building a bridge. It was a stellar evening of women and Spirit connecting love.

The women asked me. “how did you get to the place where you can hear him-- see and feel him? We think you are a Gateway-- a Bridge".

I learned personal re-construction after finding my own family foundation was faulty and dangerous. I dug deep into my historical muck, fearing annihilation and drowing, yet I continued to surface with sustainable wounds.Through this personal renovation, with the help of Spiritual Engineers, we have been able to construct a way from one side to the other.

Last year, my husband, the cat and I, moved into an apartment in Brooklyn, NY. We had a spectacular vista of lower Manhattan to the Brooklyn Bridge. For days, I marveled at the Bridge’s stature, grace and strength. I had trouble however, looking at South Manhattan.

There seemed to be a deafening echo, a spiritual reverberation, that was much too loud for me. I couldn't even unpack our dishes. It was the anniversary of 911.

Where the World Trade Center previously towered, were now two enormous frozen search lights blasting vertical shafts into the night. The lights reflection off low lying clouds gave the ominous appearance of a nuclear mushroom. Periodically when the clouds would part, the light would stream into the heavens in a defiant four lane freeway, bridging us to unknown realms.

What would I do if I heard Spirits that wanted to talk to me? Maybe I could help. I was compelled to make the pilgrimage to Ground Zero.

As I walked closer to Ground Zero, I could not take my eyes off the mangled debris compressed into the subway grates and cracks of the sidewalks. There was a distinct smell I could not identify. There was a scream inside my head. I was no help to anyone.

Where the towers once stood, there was a massive hole.Valiant attempts from courageous workers, whose lungs will never be right, were trying to make sense of it all in a silent vacuum. How will we all rebuild from this chasm of different beliefs, prejudices, hatred and greed? Each of us forced to rethink our "connections".

We moved to another apartment on the other side of the building where our sunsets gave us a glimmer of the Statue of Liberty. Though she is comparatively small and oxidized green, with her hope, she is still standing strong.

This vista now turned our focus to the reminder of what our country was built on. Not greed and corporate corruption, but freedom, liberty and the pursuit of a Spiritual life without the fear of tyranny and persecution.

Now, I'm back on the west coast doing what I can; helping fathers and daughters, shedding light on darkness, remembering love and building bridges with one divine connection at a time.

Hair Raising the Dead

I have hair issues. What does this have to do with being psychic or talking to the dead? The dead have hair issues too.

My mother, in an attempt to make me look the way she needed me look for her personal satisfaction, dyed my hair blond from the time I started first grade. She wrapped my locks around pink foam curlers tight every night for 10 years.
Do you think the pulling of my hair tight for all those years aided my clairvoyance by stimulating my crown chakra? Well there had to be some reason for it….

I took my blond hair for granted. It was just part of my daily routine in personal hygiene; brush my teeth, dye my hair. I never even concerned myself with the dark roots that I had to keep covering up. It was the way of my world. Covering up darkness was the way most things in my home were handled. If you can’t fix it, decorate it!

Years later I had a bout of surgery and cut my hair really short and noticed and as it grew out, it was not blond: an interesting revelation. From that point, I managed to love the darkness of my hair-- red, brown, dark-- I like it.

Women are funny about their hair even when they are dead.

Many times when they first reveal themselves, they show me what they looked like in life, especially if hair was a stand out feature. They reveal it beautifully coiffed, fresh out of ...Heaven’s Salon.

Even if they'd passed later in life, they will come though with an image of how they looked when they felt their very best.

Those who succumbed to cancer, love to tell their earthbound relatives that their eyebrows and hair are back; full and radiant. Their hair, was a major part of their identity here on earth and how they would like to be remembered.

Recently, a client sat amazed as her long since past pup appeared during a session to tell her how grateful he was for her love. However, he was confused how different she looked each day.

The dog cocked his head and revealed images of this woman coming into her house with short black hair, coming out of her bedroom with long brown hair, feeding him his dinner with red spikey hair and grooming him with strawberry- blond curly hair. Not knowing these different looks were caused by wigs, the perplexed pooch, was certain her different identities were odd, but not important because he loved her.

The images come fast and, like a movie, they are revealed with real emotion present. Hair, like in life, has impact on the dead but its good to know they love us whether we are blond or not.

Coming Out

There is a time when one can no longer be silent.

When the truth is much more interesting than fabrication. When the alignment of ones heart meets what is written, said, and known. When the act of "doing" is replaced with "being", and for some of us, it happens in the 5oth year of our lives.

I had to come to terms with the fact that I talk to dead people, and they answer back. Also I had to face the fact that I am given information, that is not for me , but for others. Information that some would call prophecy, but I could never hide behind a religion and use the bible to find way to color what I hear. So lets call it information; something of an intuitive nature.

From whence this comes? I process this question every day. I feel it is from the benevolent energy that is connected to all of us. God, Universe, Holy Spirit, Hierarchy, the place that tells us the truth.

There is a place deep inside us that connects to it.


Lets go find it.