It All Starts With the Heart

                            The Mystic Cowgirl, Stacey J. Warner and her dog, Doodle

A quote from Stacey’s Facebook web page, “Curious what horses can bring to your life? I've never seen someone walk out of the round pen untouched by the experience.”

…Yes, it is curious what horses bring into your life, but it becomes a whole different experience with the help of Stacey J. Warner.

I didn’t know what to expect, and that is the best way to approach a session with Stacey and the horses.  Yet, I was deeply moved, and so will you be, if you take the chance to work with her.

Stacey is a combination of intuition, expertise, and cowgirl rolled into a gentle laser beam of awareness. She doesn’t just whisper to horses, she sees, hears and feels who they are AND what they are saying about us. That's why stepping into a round pen with one of the horses and Stacey perched to coach, gives us humans a unique perspective of our lives. This is not a riding session, in fact you never get on the horse; nope, this is a “being” session. We come face to face with all 1200 lbs of muscle that is either working with us or against us. This becomes a perfect dance as we have to find cooperation within ourselves and then with the horse. It all starts with the heart.

I’d just come back from the bliss of graduate courses at Monroe Institute of Consciousness, to the grief of my cat’s failing health, and  his miraculous bouncing back through one of his 9 lives. My heart was getting more than a work out. I knew that taking a session with Stacey would helpful. But I had no idea how that would look, or should I say... feel.

I'd had horses as a child, but that was 40 years ago, and when I found myself in the middle of the herd, I had a grab bag of emotions, mixed with excitement, awe, and a strange slice of fear.

Stacey knew the herd's personalities and quirks. She read them like they were colorful family members and had even intuited which one I would be drawn to. She was right, Gretchen, the dark sorrel, part Clydesdale, alpha female was who I chose.

 The first thing that came up for me while standing next to Gretchen, was profound respect and yet I was overwhelmed with an awareness that I missed so much in my youth, I had no concept of who I was back then, and in this moment with Gretchen, I knew all would be ok. 

Stacey watched our encounter. I stepped in closer to Gretchen to finger comb the straw from her mane, and I immediately remembered that a great deal of my time with horses was about wanting to please my father, and in that moment I felt paralyzed. Stacey guided me through that fear and drew my attention to how Gretchen was responding to me; the relationship I was creating with Gretchen was an opportunity to see myself in a different way. Stacey brought my attention to how I approached Gretchen, and how I approach people in life was similar, why some things work and why they don’t. The horse is the reflection, an immediate mirror for the student.

I adjusted my energy, and then Gretchen and I went for a walk.

By the time we’d walked back to the coral, I had found ways to “make things work” outside of the human box I was in. I had to think and feel different, change things up and just let go.

My next encounter was with “Rushmore”, a gorgeous chestnut thoroughbred who had been eyeing me, and me him. I fantasized galloping with him over a finish line to victory, but my work started when I felt the pull to press my heart against him. That meant I had to stand right in front him, placing my heart at his breastbone. I was tentative, but Stacey said, “Yes, do it”, and when I followed my intuition, WHAM! Deep sadness, and profound joy shook my chest and pried it wide open.  I had to remember to breathe as I reconnected to the energy that helped me gain so much strength and confidence as a child. My father had given me the greatest gift for my ninth birthday, a buckskin Arabian/quarter horse, and in that relationship I found freedom, power and strength that helped me moved through the tortured home life of emotional and physical abuse at the hands of my mother. BAM!  Yes, I had healed that, and there was Rushmore to remind me, and Stacey to guide me.

I went through a barrage of emotion laughed at myself and wanted to have more fun with Rushmore, but I had just jockeyed my life in a completely different way with the horses and I was spent... from a different kind of ride.

The old cowboy boots that I’d had since I was 14 that fit like a perfect key in a lock, reminded my back that I had been holding in such powerful emotion. Being with these great, huge, sentient beings was a risk worth taking I had no choice but to share my heart so they would know me. Brilliantly guided by cowgirl, angel Stacey, I learned life in the round pen is a mirror for the delicate balance of all life, ego has no place in making things work, cooperation is essential, truth comes out because the horses know our shit and it can all be fun, even the scary parts. It all starts with the heart.

I look forward to my next “ride”.

www.staceyjwarner.com

Tending the Garden of Our Souls

 Last week I attended a program for survivors of trauma and abuse when I was gently guided in a meditation by a very gifted facilitator. She  invited me to connect to my four-year-old self. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to see what would happen. I saw this precious little girl standing beside the only rose bush that grew against the side of my childhood home.  She was picking off the Japanese beetles that were eating away the single rose. I could feel the prickly sticky legs of the green-headed marauder, and then the therapist said, “Hold her and see how she feels.”

The girl was anxious, wanting to get back to the rose bush and save it from being ravaged by the beetle that was just doing what a beetle does. Already the pattern of codependence was set up.  There I was at such a young age trying to stop the destruction that seemed an inevitable pattern of my family. As though the hunger of my fearful unhappy parents were just doing what they did to survive and the child was the rose. The analogy was daunting.

Tending to the garden of our soul is not something we think about often. But Spirit, in it’s divine wisdom, set up a situation for me to heal the foundation of my roots as well as protect how I bloom.

A few months ago I was getting ready to set course with a production company on a project when Spirit told me, “We want you to heal some of your history.” Hum, well, of course I wondered how that would happen, but our agendas or what we think about how such a thing can transpire is often contrary to what we WANT to have happen. I like to have things be loving and copacetic so that communication can be resolved in a harmonious way. But this time I could not make that happen because Spirit had a different idea.

What transpired was that I ran smack into a situation with people where fear was at the core of every one of our communications. This triggered me the same way it did with my parents and I literally began to do what I did as a child—vomit.

Spirit told me as my head was in the toilet, “You now can see the damage and feel the pattern of abuse; time to heal it. We want you to go to ‘The Meadows.’”

The Meadows on one hand is a place for the rehabilitation of many different addictions, but they also have a workshop that was suggested to me by my therapist friends and colleagues who knew about this place. They all said I must do the “Survivor” program. This weeklong workshop investigates the origins of adult dysfunctional behaviors by exploring early childhood trauma that has led to various addictions, depression, eating disorders and painful relationships. In this revolutionary educational and experiential process, participants learn to identify and address family-related issues that took place from birth to 17 years of age. The primary focus of the workshop is to learn to deal with the emotions that accompany any less-than-nurturing past event, and then to work on resolution of the consequential grief and anguish. 

The Meadows was an oasis of healing. And in the middle of the very powerful program I had a brief experience of connecting to my inner child who knew the beetles would be trouble, but also loved their sticky legs and the beauty of their metallic green heads and shiny copper wings. Their nature is just to survive. My four-year-old now knows the cycle of beetle and flower: in the destruction of each rose, the bush will bloom even more the next year. 

May we all be lucky enough to have the gift of Spirit to help us see the healing and beauty by tending to the garden of our souls.

The Meadows is located in Wickenberg AZ. http://www.themeadows.com/
The Meadows has published this blog on their site.

Response Ability

“The first act of self-responsibility, and the base of all the others, is the act of taking responsibility for being conscious – that is, of bringing an appropriate awareness to our activities.”
-Nathaniel Branden, author of Taking Responsibility

All of us have blamed other people at some point in our lives for something. Unaware of the amount of pain we were in at the time, we chose to blame. 

 I have gone though the  gauntlet of  accepting, and not accepting my share of responsibility for what my life looks like, how I got here, and what I have done. There are always deeper places to probe. It becomes an on going process that is definitely... challenging.

 However I am feeling that there is a climate in our world of more and more complaining, blaming, bitching, worrying, finger pointing and shaming. 

No doubt we’ve been harmed physically or emotionally by the acts of others.Yes others are often to blame for egregious actions. There are laws to protect us from certain behaviors and hold people accountable. Sometimes our upbringing makes us more sensitive to the injustices of harmful behavior. 

One might still cringe when scolded, a trigger to a painful memory of a childhood disciplinary act by a parent. But if there are overwhelming incidents of historic trauma, then it is our duty to ourselves and others to seek out the help of professionals to heal our pain. Because if we don't we will take it out on others.

External circumstances might have put you at a disadvantage, but we have a choice to do something about this.

 It’s called, taking responsibility. 

People make excuses for their behavior instead of looking at their own thoughts and actions. When you fail to accept  responsibility for your actions there are events that follow over time. An unpleasant pattern in your family is because there are years and years of brushing the uncomfortable under the rug, pretending things don't happen, acting like everything is fine-- obviously not taking  responsibility for actions. 

 Excuses are insidious because they become a self-fulfilling prophecy, an excuse we make true. Proving no one understands us, listens to, respects, or loves us. If you blame others, then you are the victim,  –You stay the wounded child, the eternal victim. Therefore, the prophecy is  fulfilled.

Another consequence to not taking responsibly is an exaggerated sense of self that makes it difficult to get along with others.  Because your perception of your importance is exaggerated, your expectation of others is unrealistic and you become impatient, intolerant, and demanding. You will even go out of your way to pull conflict into your life to fuel the drama of the upset. Then the drama becomes so upsetting and distracting which is  another way to deflect  responsibility. 

People who keep making excuses for their behavior are trying to deflect their inadequacies and avoid reality. They don’t see that they are losing the respect and trust of their friends, family, and colleagues. They use their pain and all their good intentions as a way to mask the truth and then ultimately, they only surround themselves with people who support their ideas and put up with their excuses. 

We are afraid of not being enough and when we don't step up to take responsibility we prove we aren't enough. Then  our pain becomes our lives, then we can keep blaming others. Yes, we have all done this.

 “ But, I love you! I am doing everything for you, I work my ass off to help you, I put up with the fact you hurt me 20 years ago, that you were mean to me, that you betrayed me, that you left me. This is your fault! This has nothing to do with me! My pain is because of what you said what you did, to ME!"  

The need for acknowledgement and at the same time using the blame game is a wounded child screaming for help.

It would be nice to be in dialogue with others to work things out. But people who can’t take responsibility for their own behavior are not going to be looking to talk to you, They will avoid you like the plague.  They will hide behind others, money, pain, work, or history in order to feel superior and right in being victimized.

The only way out of this vicious cycle is to be aware of your thoughts and actions and then take responsibility for what you are doing, what you have done, what you've said and not said, accept how your behavior has contributed to the situation and... admit it, come clean and tell the truth. OYE!

The only way to change this is, you must WANT it to change. We must find the ability and the courage to respond differently.

It is amazing when we fess up to our own bad behavior what can happen. If people are willing to change, they will be willing to forgive.  Then fear  can morph, love starts to flow and harmony can be resorted. But it takes work.

Don’t wait for others to change. You face the mirror, you go for help, you seek reflection from people who will help you unwind the craziness. Question your thoughts your actions. Don’t stay stuck in needing to prove you are right, look a certain way, or stay in control.

Unless you seek the help of people who know how to really help you take responsibility, you are just running in circles, feeling exhausted, upset, in pain, frustrated, disappointed and unhappy. What if we all were to do this? What would our world look like?

We all make mistakes. But there is freedom in the truth, confidence in taking action, well being and love, in doing what's right.

In the Blades

This is what I think 2012 is all about. 

Time has sped up. Situations we thought were trivial are now more important than ever. Bodies feel irritated, out of alignment and unsettled. Minds are being yanked around by the emotions of our own lives and the media.

In order to keep up we must shift, change our vibration. The body tells us what is wrong with painful reminders. What must we change to get out of pain? Where do we start and how do we do that?

Responsibility….taking responsibility for what we think, say and do. Blaming someone else can only go so far. What if you chose it to learn? When do you decide that you have learned enough to move on?

We can only change what we acknowledge.

 Do we really want awareness? It’s difficult, it feels like we are going to die, our heart and minds ripped apart with fear when we face our past, and clean up what we can, and embrace the uncertain future.
 We can then transform to something that is more ...fluid.

Consciousness comes with a price. It lives in the bottom of a blender in the blades.

Only those who want to be part of the shift, the awareness, the change, can do something about this.

I watch as people who are vibrant, curious, funny and loving cannot come to terms with their life choices. They hold themselves in the most critical ways, not understanding that they can make different choices. Choices for themselves that very well may have a profound effect on others. But until they do come to the realization, drop the shame and dig in, they will not shift their pain.

Life is filled with all sorts of pain, but there is joy when we are able to pour out of that blender!

Peanut Shells and Novocain

When a deceased loved one wants to communicate, and they are able to break the veil of death to come back and share messages, it is simply one of the most heart warming yet shocking experiences.

It is my job to help facilitate this. Losing someone we love can be the most painful yet transformational experiences of our lives.

Most of the sessions that I do as medium are NOT set up by me, they are facilitated most often by the dead themselves.

When I was back in my hometown and staying at the Bedford Springs Resort, I ran into a group of stunning, fashionably attractive women all walking out to the Tavern for lunch.  I did a double take and recognized a childhood acquaintance I’d not seen in 35 years. Rossanne and I were suprised to see each other.  ‘Please join us” she said. I was simply delighted to be part of their birthday celebration over salad and wine for their friend Beth.

We had a fast meet and greet, and then I tried to explain what I do, the birthday girl said, “ you mean you are a fortune teller?”

 “No.” I said.

 "You mean you read people's minds?”

 “Nope.”

” You mean you can win the lottery ?”

 I laughed. This was way too funny, I usually can explain my work, but these questions just reminded me that not a lot of people will understand. Then I heard the way I hear things, “ Simply tell them you can hear, see and feel dead people, you can see what they want their loved ones to know, you can help facilitate this love that continues”…then they all gasped  and tried  to explain about Marcia who was a little late. Marcia had lost her husband David, to Cancer.  I immediately thought, OK Spirit you have set this up.

Marcia was delightful and beautiful.  We shared a good laugh  about Marcia’s hunting passion, as she whipped out her phone to share some bucolic photos, that included fur and antlers. I left that lunch knowing I might talk to her another time.

We started is FB friends and then one night I felt I had to call her.

 She was  sad, like only those who have lost a spouse can be. A sadness that leaves only when time and experience can find a home for it.

I did not call her to give her information, I did not call her to make her a client, I called because I had to.

I was overcome with emotion, not my emotion, an upset for Marcia that I could not have because I did not know her. It was someone else's emotion.

I tried to fight what was happening but said, “If you want me to explain what I am feeling I will, but I think I have your husband here, do you want to hear this?” she said, "yes".

I am being told that you and your husband buried your dog together -----------

You eat peanuts in the car and throw the shell on the floor. Your  husband is laughing about this,

You have a saying that is important that he made for you on something by the door, ----

You want a pair of boots that you have agonized about whether to get or not---

He loves your blue berry pancakes---

He talks about the mole on your back---

The Novocain strength at work is not right ---

Sell the boat---

And now he shows me is washing his hands in an oval pedestal sink and he says “ that is my handy work”---

Other more intimate details the only they can share, that I will not be able to remember, but it was for them, and Marcia agreed I could share some of this with you.

Love shows up in all different forms.

All of these messages were deeply meaningful and true for her, her husband and now perhaps all of us.

He was a joy, and wouldn’t stop, he kept talking, showing, and loving all at the same time….we were both stunned and crying at the same time. David had released his shell and was still loving her. David had made this all happen, and for a brief moment we were both transported to a place of love, hope and life.

A New Chapter

I share new life with you!

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!


http://www.kxan.com/dpp/news/national/south/worldwide-attention-on-ben-breed


http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20557271,00.html

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 2^nd 2011.

MSU

 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 Free...in my case Frees.

"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."

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 Unknowncountry.com,

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.

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

 and....

 because he loves to.

It is his gift of song that makes my day.

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 job...it 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!

Heed the Whispers?

This new Years Eve I was typing the note, “I am always here for you.” I wondered if that was an invitation, or was I being presumptuous that she might need me? Was I just doing my job as a psychic medium, just being a caring person, or was I acting out  the care taking  pattern  of being an alcoholic’s daughter? These are boundary  issues I have had to learn.

I cannot assume that I am needed out side the professional services I offer. BIG LESSON, I do not accost people on the street and give them psychic information. I do not sit beside a man on the air plane and whisper unsolicited information. You would not expect a dentist to lean over and say, “Your breath stinks, let me tell you what that halitosis is about.” I find  information unsolicited, but still given, a boundary issue.

It's become a year of understanding more of these boundaries.

People come to me because I can help them see their lives differently, feel what they cannot feel or sense themselves because they are focused elsewhere. What I have to offer as a psychic medium, are sometimes important directives, about taking one road or another, fixing car parts, health issues and relationship issues. I cannot be attached to whether someone listens or not. I care, but I cannot have any agenda.I must just give the information, whether it is heard and acted upon is not my business.

I had one client call me this year from her hospital bed, saying, “ok I know you are thinking I told you so.” By the time she ended up in the hospital I had forgotten that there was a message saying , if you do not handle this, you will be in the hospital in a month. I cannot remember every thing I tell a client but I knew at the time it was important.

What is our responsibility in hearing information that can help another?

A client who did not take my suggestion a few months ago about the damage that could come to her home if she did not take steps to protect from the water, is now flooded. My celebrity clients who had a clothing store asked me what they should do about their business. I told them that they would let it go, because I saw them losing a great deal of money; they were robbed more than once. An old friend who has had numerous messages given to him not just by me but by his own guidance is faced with devastating health issues. The point is we as adults have choice.

I too have had to learn this in my own life. I’ve been given messages I did not want to heed, the result has changed my life forever. I am not saying that not needing the messages means there is punishment; on the contrary, I feel there are no mistakes. Mistakes happen to show us something even more important.
If we were warned, then it is clear there is a consciousness  inside of us that cares about us and it can be accessed in time to help us. However  if we are given guidance, warned over and over again, and we still choose not to listen, then there is something wrong in the love we have for ourselves.

I have learned more about boundaries and the care I must have for myself. It is true that I am always here if she needs me, but I wait for her to ask and if she does ask for help I will do my best, to be clear compassionate. I have learned that in my personal world, to heed the whispers of the message, and let the rest go.