Friday, December 30, 2011

The Blessing of Ben Breedlove

There is no surprise that his name was Ben Breedlove.

I sit here in front of this imac, with tears pouring down my face, because I am consumed by the strength and the love of Spirit who gave the world a boy named Ben who was intuitive enough to share us his life and death, a boy so beautiful, so loved by his family and born to a  family called the BREEDLOVE’S for goodness sake!

I was just  introduced to him like many of you, through the news. How he had had a serious heart condition all his life, but over the last week his story and life have been the subject of hope and amazement as he recorded on YouTube his...well, his own eulogy days before he actually passed.

I am moved by the treasures of life but often numbed by my own stupid thoughts of self loathing. Disappointment that things don’t always smell like roses, that my love life has not worked out the way I fantasized, or that no matter what creams I buy or how much I exercise, I still don’t look like Cindy Crawford. The pitiful sad wounded parts of me that sometimes get activated and put me on a pity-party spiral. But today Ben changed that for me, I hope forever.

Most of you know that death is part of my job. You know through the many stories I have shared that the dead give me so many details for their loved ones so many feelings, memories and thoughts that  in my job I am graced to be able to do this for others.

You also know that there is more than skepticism about this subject. The life after death question, not to mention the judgment (understandably so) of those of  who might be accused of being ambulance chasers, taking advantage of grief and charging money to remove the curse of the grief that consumes us.

But Ben overcame all of that for me today.  

No, I am not saying that Ben came to me, as the dead often do, and wants me to track down his family to give them messages... no today BEN and HIS FAMILY have messages for me, for us and we can either feel them or not.

  I do find it very interesting that when I wanted and needed sleep, I was wakened with a blast of cold that irritated me so much that no matter how I moved the covers I could not get myself comfortable. So I  bitched, told that cat I didn’t want to get up, pulled myself out and in my mid-morning-stupor, turned to the web stories of CNN …. Doomed teen Ben Breedlove shares life after death experiences on YouTube. 

I have to do my job, I have to listen, I have to be ready and able to either give messages from loved ones, or I am blessed with having prophetic information that means nothing to me, but does or will to someone else.

We will all some day feel doomed by death, but not Ben. Ben and those he touched
 are blessed.

Thank you Ben and your loving family and Spirit, who share you with the world.

 There are so many links to this story.... just find him. Or he will find you!,,20557271,00.html

Friday, December 2, 2011

I Took My Time to Listen

I’ d had a headache for about two hours and thought, I’ll go out, get some air and a few things at the grocery store.

 I picked up some little juicy  Clementine’s, broccoli, a hunk of dark chocolate and started to walk home when I heard the way I hear things,  “ sit and have some soup.”

Ok, well sure, so I sat down outside at my little Chinese-take-out ordered a small wonton soup, downed it and thought... hum that was weird.

 But when I listen and I am called— I do.

I started to walk home and saw my friend Lina who works at my local Starbucks. We have a familiar morning relationship that centers around one shot of peppermint and Mocha for my holiday latte.

“Hey how are you?” She buoyantly asked.

“Well Lina,  I’m really sad that our Blockbuster is going out of business… I need a hug.”  We laughed, but she hugged me anyway and then it just popped in my head to ask about her girlfriend, Kit.

“ Well actually she is right over here”…She led me to the back corner of Starbucks where Kit was hunkerd down at her computer. We all three  commiserated on  how we like and dont like ordering videos on line… when Lina said, “ today is the anniversary of Kit’s mothers death.”

My headache flared. So for the next 40 minutes we talked to Jo Ann, Kit's mom. She had died from a brain aneurism. Lots of funny wonderful, interesting details that had Kits eyes wet, red and joyous that her mom knew so much about her, like she had been looking over her shoulder in preparation for our meeting. My headache stopped when Jo Ann said to her daughter, “ Be joyous...Oh, and fix your bike.”

They both hugged me and asked,” aren’t you tired?”

“ Not in the least, I’m just glad I took my time to listen.” I said.

This is how I want my holiday to be, filled with Spirit and the messages that they have for others …and me.
And that's the way it was on December 2nd 2011.

Sunday, November 6, 2011


 I recently poked my head into a College reunion. It was held at an esteemed University that all people choose to go to at some point in their lives.

I'm sure that every political candidate, (ok, with the exception of maybe one) have gone to this school, gotten their Masters and maybe even a Doctorate or two. This is not a place of discrimination. This is where you can find smart, well educated, attractive, or not so educated, poor and not so attractive. Some of the most famous people in the world have spent years there, but they don’t list it on their resume.  

 Its the kind of place you can attend any time for a refresher course but its not really helpful if you go back.

I came from a family that donated their life and energy to this University. Some of the classes were honorary for  me, I didn't even have to attend. I just got  the credit because of my family's history. 

No tuition is really free. Some classes we have taken, we conveniently have forgotten; then the bill comes, with interest. I am sure that we have all learned a great deal when going to these classes, but can occasionally be remiss in remembering.

It’s the kind of place that some people take such pride in, until they have to admit they have attended.

This well appointed, human resourced destination of education really becomes embarrassing if someone asks what the letters MSU mean.

So I encourage you to do what I have just done, count up the credits that you forgot you had, or even remember how much time you have spent or are spending at the esteemed institution of :

Making Shit Up University, where all skills  are devoted on a daily weekly or life time basis in being inauthentic in all forms of  relationships, telling fabrications to re-write history in how we want to be perceived, or how we want others to perceive us. The criteria, being unable to be with the truth.

May we all choose more wisely when education presents its self and remember,
the truth shall set you my case Frees.

    Friday, August 19, 2011

    "It's So Ridiculous Now That I'm Dead"

     Mandy sat on my office sofa. I actually thought she might be one of the youngest clients I ever had. Looking no older than 14, her rail thin body was not yet defined by any thought of adult hood. She giggled when I asked her how old she was. I resisted looking shocked when she said, “I’m 22.”

    I never know how these sessions start, I don’t have people yelling from beyond the grave HEY THIS IS BILL WHY CANT YOU HEAR ME!?

     Things are reveled in the frequency and way that Spirit has set up. Today her deceased  father came in saying. “I was irritating.”  Mandy agreed.

    Her father  revealed to me a bedroom. I drew on my standard yellow pad of paper a  door from the hall entering a small space. Her father impressed in my mind these images. He showed me that he was standing in the bedroom and Mandy’s mother was in the doorway, yelling at him.

    Her father then revealed a frame, a huge frame of wood that he had built. At first I thought it was like an over sized frame for a painting, or he was being creative with making a huge frame for the doorway.  Mandy was nodding her head.

    Mandy your father is telling me, “ She stood there and just yelled at me, NOW can you see how  ridiculous this was, cause now I am DEAD!”  He  was serious but the irony of the situation was apparently part of his personality. Mandy welled with tears and I asked. "Does this mean something to you?"

    She said,“You have drawn my brothers bedroom. My father was building a frame for a murphy bed, my mother was mad at him, they argued, he got sick and died before he finished it.”

    Her father was sad, sad that time here on earth was wasted, arguing.

    " It's so ridiculous now that I'm dead."

    Wednesday, June 29, 2011

    The Bliss of Connection

    When Richard Dreyfus’s character had a Close Encounter, his life as he knew it was over.  He was driven to find meaning in what seemed incomprehensible. He spent his waking hours searching for the truth, building something that could satisfy some strange  longing, a need to connect to something unidentified.

    He trashed his job, yard, home, kitchen, and family all to make sense of his need. In that moment  (captured by this photo) he recognizes the monstrosity he manifested in the middle of his kitchen existed. That his psychic impressions and fantasies were real. His madness had meaning. His insanity was sane and he could finally lean into the arms of his own truth.

    He left what he knew and climbed a mountain to walk hand in hand with those who supported his vision. He found  home with the gentle strangers of an Unidentified Flying Object.

    This last weekend at the IV Dreamland festival sponsored by,
    I realized that I too had been living my whole life for that connection, searching, yearning and finally present to the love that only being with those on a same journey can provide. 

    All of us there, the attendees and presenters knew on some deep level that this was the place we had to be.  These were the people we had to know and this, is what we had to do. Yes there are challenges to be a part of something that on some level has elements of controversy and skepticism, but our attention to shed light on the truth seems more important. This could no more be stopped than banning  stars from beaming light. However in our quest there is pain. It is in facing that pain for our truth that we may find bliss. 

    May we all find the courage to do whatever we must for the bliss of the connection.

    Sunday, May 1, 2011

    Gifts for My Soul

    The best gifts are the ones that my soul needs, but I don’t think to ask for.

    These are the ones that teach me the most about life and beauty.

    They surprise me.

    I have a visitor that comes with 5 friends.

     He sings to let them know there are fat sunflower seeds hung in the bamboo.

    He sings because he can,

    because he must


     because he loves to.

    It is his gift of song that makes my day.

    Wednesday, February 23, 2011

    Just For the Joy

    I decided after training for 5 years in Tae Kwan Do getting my red belt and having a few injuries….I needed a different expression for my body.

    My friend Liddee invited me to an evening of dance at the studio where she’d been attending class.

    I had tossed out my dance shoes years before, so I make a trip to my local dance store for the suede bottom shoes and crossed my fingers that I might be able to keep up. Funny thing, I had danced for years, in shows, musicals, reviews, because I HAD to, taking class was just to keep myself limber and prepare for another role. This time there would be no show,or would be just for the joy.

    Patrick a beautiful African American instructor grabbed me and said," You must take the tango lead from the man." OYE…I had only done choreographed pieces, I never learned to let any man lead anything.

    I surrendered, however after about 20 minutes, my brain clicked back on and Patrick said, “NO your brain is back and you don’t move as well.” Good information.

    So I  shuffled  off to another instructor Santiago, a good 8 inches shorter, he'd make me dance salsa! He spun me around pushed me up and down and made this 52 year old look like Charo, well sort of.

    I was sweaty and sore so I wrapped up my dancing night up in a down coat waiting for the culmination of the evening, a wonderful belly dancing demonstration performance by a young student who had just gotten her masters in psyc from UCLA.

    She was lovely and happy, undulating to the beat of Middle Eastern drums, shaking the metal hip trusses in total confidence and mastery. Her beautiful hair whipping, veils waving and her face was beaming. Of course she was 25 and didn’t have much of a belly to dance but I was entranced.Good way to get new business.

    So I survived my first two hour belly dancing class.After a long soak in Epsom salts, eating Advil and a ton of water, I've found muscles on hips bones, arms and toes I never knew I had. We were a group of women between 24 and 67 that came to shake, sweat and bond with each other, all faiths and life styles honored and supported. I thoroughly enjoyed the Iranian belly dancing task master who demands perfection from my pecs ...she gets to yell ,she's so good I don’t mind.

    I think I'll try swing and might learn to be led, especially if its just for the joy!