Friday, April 30, 2010

Analyzing my own dreams

My brother stopped by yesterday, passing through town on his way home from visiting my parents, to bring me some things that had been in their basement.

We had a chat, standing around in the garage, before he went on his way.

My brother and I have not always seen eye to eye. These days, it seems, we are even further distanced in our perspectives. Our talk, I admit, bothered me to a large degree.

You see, one of the things he said to me was "you need to stop this Christiana Spiritguide crap if you want to find a new job." I smiled, and said I didn't think it was a problem, and changed the subject.

But his comment ate away at me, obviously, because last night I had some very significant and meaningful dreams, and I thought I would share one (and its interpretation) here today.

Because, as Christiana Spiritguide, that's part of what I do.

And that's what the dream was all about.

So, here's the dream:

I was doing serious research in a library, and was working with several other people on a project, but I was the only one getting anything done. We agreed to split up for a bit and work independently, then come back together to share what we found.

I left my office (a beautiful one, with huge windows, and lots of bright polished wood), and went outside to check on my car. I got into the car, and it was running. I thought that was odd, since I had remembered distinctly turning it off earlier.

So I turned the ignition key again, turning it OFF. The engine kept going. I did this over and over and over again, to no avail, getting very very frustrated. Suddenly, I realized I was late for my appointment with the others, so I had to leave the car running (even left the door open) and ran into the building, and instead of using the elevator, climbed up the stacks of books to get there.

I got there, on time, and the others just looked at me expectantly, to solve the problems we were having. I took charge of the meeting, with my mind still on my running car below, then after the meeting pulled one of them aside and asked if he had any ideas about what to do with my car.

He looked at me funny and said "Don't you know? It's supposed to do that. You can't just TURN IT OFF. It will naturally keep going. Why would you want to turn it off, anyway?"

And that's when I woke.

This is, overall, a very open dream to interpret. Cars, in dreams, are US, our personalities, our character. So, I was quite obviously dreaming about the fact that I can not hide who I really am, that even if I try to "turn it off" (referring to my psychic side), it will still continue "running" because it is a fundamental part of my construction.

The meeting, the library, even climbing the stacks, refer to the work I've been doing, both academically and personally, to improve myself and move forward, but always seeming to be stymied from the outside. Again, a reminder that I need to focus on myself and let that inner self emerge, without trying to change it.

The "office" in my dream, with large windows and lots of shiny polished wood, represents the "place" where I do my work: that is, my mind. It is, to me, a haven full of peace and beauty.

I have spent a lifetime, literally, trying to be what other people thought I should be, denying parts of myself because outsiders might not approve. It's time to stop hiding, stop pretending, and let the real person emerge. I am not ashamed of my abilities to "see" things, and I feel blessed to have them in my life. I refuse to ever be intimidated into denying my self again.

Thankfully, my wonderful husband supports me in this, and expects nothing less.

Now THAT is truly a blessing.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

My skills as empath

(Image of black smoke taken from the internet....)

Tonight, my mother asked me if I had known that she was ill with cancer before she diagnosed. She said, it is something that she has wondered many times, but has never gotten up the nerve to ask me. Until tonight.

I told her, yes, I knew.

My father said, "did you know it was cancer, or just that she was sick?" (He's a bit of a skeptic). I said, "Well, I knew she was ill, I knew it was her lungs, and yes, I knew it was cancer."

Skeptic Phil replied, "I'm sure her cough had nothing to do with it...."

So I replied, "Dad, I knew in December that she was ill." (She was not diagnosed until July.)

Mom was quiet for a moment and then said, "You know, I wondered. Before I was diagnosed, you kept asking me if I was ok. Over and over again...."

And I said once more, "Yes, Mom, I knew."

So, given that conversation of today, I thought I would share a bit more of my "Back story" here. This segment deals with my abilities to detect lung cancer. It's really a very bittersweet gift.

It was not until I was in my late 30s that I would begin to grasp the gift that I had been given, and actively seek to develop my psychic abilities. As I began to open up to the sensations and insights, instead of suppressing or resisting them, I discovered that my psychic revelations were intense, accurate, and could not be ignored.

I discovered that I had a gift of psychic sight, as well as the gift of being an empath.

This mixed blessing has allowed me to feel others’ pain as if it were my own, sometimes blending the lines between the two. It has also allowed me to see what causes the pain. In fact, my abilities allowed me to “see” lung cancer in two separate cases in the same year.

The first instance was that of a young man I had met and gotten to know online. Howard and I had chatted frequently and gotten quite close in a matter of weeks, although we never actually met in person. We had exchanged photos, so I knew what he looked like. We had also spoken on the phone several times, so I could feel his energy.

One night, as we chatted online, I suddenly had a very strong image of Howard’s lungs.

They were black and spotted in my vision.

In particular, I saw the lower lobe of his left lung, facing his back. Howard had not said anything to me about not feeling well or about having any abnormal symptoms. I said to him, “I think you should see a doctor. I think there’s something wrong.” (I did not mention cancer).

Howard laughed, at first, and then said “How did you know I haven’t been feeling well?” He made an appointment to visit his doctor, who immediately sent him for additional tests.

It turned out that Howard was suffering from lung cancer – very rare for a man of his age and health category (he was not a smoker and had no other risk factors).

The day that he went for the biopsy on his lung (again, I did not know the date or time of the event until after the fact), I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in the lower rear quadrant of my left lung. What I felt was the biopsy needle entering Howard’s lung. Howard’s treatment and recovery were difficult and painful, but I am happy to say that his prognosis was (and remains) positive.

If he had not sought attention when he did, who knows what might have happened. It seems that the power of being an empath, as painful and difficult as it can be, is a tremendous gift that must be shared and should never be ignored.

The second instance of empathic sight was more direct, more personal, and far more difficult.

Only a few months after helping Howard through his diagnosis of lung cancer, I saw my mother’s illness. A lifelong smoker, my mother had suffered from a serious smoker’s hack for years, but her doctors had always told her that she was “fine.”

Living some distance from my parents, I was not with them often, but I had heard her cough progressively get worse over a period of months.

Over Christmas, right before my experiences with Howard, I had a sensation that all was not right with my mother. There was nothing concrete about my feeling, just a sense that she should go to the doctor. I told her. She brushed me off and said “it’s just a cold.”

When her “cold” did not get better, even as she went into the spring months, my mother began to take her condition a little more seriously.

Then, on a routine visit to her doctor for a physical, he heard something in her lungs that he didn’t like, and sent her for additional tests. She did not tell me about this series of events as they were happening.

I began to feel more and more discomfort in the lungs, especially in the lower lobe of my right lung. And I began to get strong visions of my mother nestled among black smoke.

I had seen my mother’s lung cancer, much as I had detected Howard’s condition. When my mother finally told me the news, I already knew, and I already knew the prognosis.

Thankfully, the surgeon got her cancer early enough, and my mother has had a full recovery, with no recurrence of the cancerous cells to date. I found that this knowledge, this ability to “see” cancer, is a double-edged sword. It helped in making quick diagnoses in both cases, but it also was highly stressful for me.

After all, just how do you tell someone “oh, by the way, you have lung cancer and should get that checked out?” The mixed blessing aspect of my abilities was becoming increasingly clear to me through these events.

And yet, I did not suppress the experiences. Instead, I welcomed them and began to investigate them to better understand the extent and limits of my abilities.

I believe that I have been given this gift of sight for a reason, and thus I feel obligated to attend to it. Difficult though such knowledge might be, as I mentioned here, the effects on my body and mind are slight compared to that felt by those I can help though my abilities.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Today's Ohso Zen Tarot Card: Compromise

Ok, So I'm pretty well infatuated with my new Osho Zen Tarot meditation deck.

The images on them speak very powerfully to me, and I find myself pulled back to them again and again, just wanting to touch them and look at them.

Today I was feeling physically low, with some of my normal challenges, so I decided I would pull another card and do some meditation.

Today's card was COMPROMISE.

My first response to this card, when I drew it, was "huh? Compromise? Why should I give in and compromise my standards?"

THEN I read the accompanying text.


Here's what it said:

"In the courts of ancient Japan, the male attendants were often selected from the ranks of petty criminals who were castrated. Because of their intimate familiarity with the activities of the court, they were often at the center of the political and social intrigues and exercised a great deal of power behind the scenes. The two figures on this card remind us of the sleazy and conspiratorial situations we can get into when we compromise our own truth. It is one thing to meet another halfway, to understand a point of view different from our own and work towards a harmony of the opposing forces. It is quite another to 'cave in' and betray our own truth. If we look deeply into it, we usually find that we are trying to gain something - whether it is power or the approval of others. If you are tempted, beware: the rewards of this kind of compromise always leave a bitter taste in the mouth."

And then the meaning for this card became crystal clear.

I have spoken on this blog several times about my current challenges. I have struggled, in particular, with the decision that I have made to return to the institution that has denied me tenure for one final contract year next year. This was not a decision that I made lightly, and there were several points at which I made myself physically ill thinking about what that would entail.

But then I sat down with a candle, and meditated, and asked myself what my ultimate truth was.

And my truth lies now, as it always has, in my abilities to share my knowledge and skills with others. In other words, my truth is that I am a teacher.

So, this COMPROMISE card is reminding me that I must follow my heart, be true to myself, and not let others stand in the way of doing what I need to do.

Even as they engage in the sleazy and conspiratorial situations of which the deck speaks.

AS Ohso states, "Never repress anything, be clear-cut about your situation. And if you are confused, remember that you are confused. This will be the first clear-cut thing about you: that you are confused. You have started on the journey."

So, with the drawing of the Compromise card, I believe that I have begun my journey, down a path whose end I can not yet see clearly, but one that I know will be sure and true.

For I will not compromise myself, despite the actions of those around me.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

A New Meditation Tool and Some Explanations

(the two OSHO Zen Tarot cards I drew today during my meditations)

Today, I got the OSHO Zen Tarot set I ordered online. Actually, I was inspired to do this by a Facebook Friend, who has been posting the OSHO Zen Tarot "card of the day." I loved the sentiments behind the cards so much, that I thought it would a great tool for me to try.

So, I hopped onto trusty and ordered my own set.

When I ordered them, I had not SEEN them, only seen the titles of the cards and a brief description of them on Jamie's Card of the Day posts.

When I opened the deck, I was amazed and awed.

The artwork is GORGEOUS. and the deck IMMEDIATELY spoke to me.

I will be doing more with the specific images and meanings of the various cards in the deck in later posts, I promise. Briefly, though, it is laid out like a traditional Tarot deck, with Major and Minor Arcana cards. There is one additional card, however, the MASTER card, which represents mastery over the symbols represented. The Master card symbolizes the ultimate trancendence of journeying itself, a transcendence that becomes possible only through the dissolving of the separate, individual ego in enlightenment.

This particular deck is highly inspired by Zen Buddhism, in which enlightenment is achievable by all, not by imitating a master, but by looking inward and finding one's one path to enlightenment. This capacity can only be realized through "meditation", though "meditation" can take many forms. In Osho's words, it is the capacity not to worship buddhas but to become a buddha; not to follow others, but to develop the awareness within that brings a quality of light and love to all that we do.

So, that is the purpose of this deck: to serve as a meditative tool to help the querent look inward to find the path to light and love.

Ok, so that's a thumbnail intro to the Osho Zen Tarot.

Now on to my meditations with it today.

I have been struggling with my career path lately, as I have written about earlier in this blog, here, here, and here. Today, I learned of some details about my difficult path this year, details that made me angry and had me thinking about how unethical some individuals can be. And part of me, a WEE part, but a part nonetheless, wanted to do harm to the institution that has wronged me.

And then my beautiful, marvelous Osho cards came.

And I unwrapped them lovingly, gently, and decided to put them to work.

I took a deep breath, began thinking about my situation, and gave myself over to the deck. I cut the unshuffled deck, without looking at any of the cards, and drew a single card to give my guidance.

And that first card, ever, that I drew from this beautiful new deck was the Courage card, pictured on the left above. I cracked open the accompanying booklet and read this about that card:

"This card shows a small wildflower that has met the challenge of the rocks and stones in its path to emerge into the light of day. Surrounded by an aura of bright golden light, it exposes the majesty of its tiny self. Unashamed, it is equal to the brightest sun. When we are faced with a very difficult situation we have a choice: we can either be resentful, and try to find somebody or something to blame for the hardships, or we can face the challenge and grow. The flower shows us the way, as its passion for life leads it out of the darkness and into the light. There is no point fighting against the challenges of life, or trying to avoid or deny them. They are there, and if the seed is to become the flower we must go through them. Be courageous enough to grow into the flower you are meant to be."

Christine, my good friend and Yogadance instructor, told me this morning that she felt as if I had "turned a corner" this week in my dealings with my institution. She said I seemed calmer, more accepting, as if I was beginning to let it go and move on.

This card, the courage card, represents all that Christine was talking about. So, the fact that it was the first card I drew from this deck, as I contemplated the demise of this career and the prospects of starting a new one, made me believe that she was right.

A bit later, after my husband came home and I shared with him the news that had made me so angry earlier, I decided I needed a little more grounding. So, I took up the deck again, shuffling the cards for the first time, letting their energy run through my hands, and letting my own energy fill them. I shuffled for many moments, all the while contemplating my occupational challenges.

Finally, I stopped, cut the deck, and flipped over a single card.

This time, it was the "Letting Go" card. Another poignant image that drew me deeply in as I pondered it. I again turned to the booklet for further explanation. I read:

"In this image of lotus leaves in the early morning, we can see in the rippling of the water that one drop has just fallen. It is a precious moment, and one that is full of poignancy. In surrendering to gravity and slipping off the leaf, the drop loses its previous identity and joins the vastness of the water below. WE can imagine that it must have trembled before it fell, just on the edge between the known and the unknowable. To choose this card is a recognition that something is finished, something is completing. Whatever it is - a job, a relationship, a home you have loved, anything that might have helped you to define who you are - it is time to let go of it, allowing any sadness but not trying to hold on. Something greater is awaiting you, new dimensions are there to be discovered. You are past the point of no return now, and gravity is doing its work. Go with it - it represents liberation."

And that, to me, said it all. I realized, as I read those words, that my struggle has been with my seeming loss of my identity (ie: as a teacher), an identity that I have held since I was a child of about four years old. I have been fearful that if I abandon teaching in an academic setting, that I will lose myself in the process. This card helped me to see that I am not losing myself, but rather that I am DISCOVERING myself. Now is the time that I can spread my wings and truly FLY.

I am that single water droplet, poised on the edge of the lotus leaf. I'm ready to join the vastness of the waters below, and feel them engulf me in their wonder.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

The Side effects of being an Empath

(this image is of Marco Island, Florida, where I spent a week with my parents in March to heal....)

I have intimated before on this blog that I am a healer and an empath, among other talents. I have been known to take pain and suffering from those around me, to take it on myself, and relieve them of its burden. I have also seen illnesses in others, with a particular affinity for detecting lung cancer.

I had spent this past weekend reading about Hildegard of Bingen, fully intending this next post to focus on her and her migraines and resultant visions.

Then I got sick.

This should not have surprised me.

I should have been expecting it.

After all, Monte, our poodle, who had been so desperately ill last week, is back to his old self again, as I wrote about here.

I spent so much healing energy on Monte last week - gladly, willingly, unquestioningly - that the result was my own ill health.

This is the curse of being an empath.

Every talent has a price. The price of empathy is that my own body absorbs the negative, ill energies from those I try to heal.

Interestingly enough, all of the analyses I have read about the various astrological signs say similar things about Pisces: we are the most highly developed psychic signs, tend to be intuitive, passionate, and artistic/creative, and often suffer from serious health issues.

These traits are not coincidence.

Think about it.

From a scientific perspective, if energy is conserved in the universe, then it must always be transferred somewhere else.

So, if an empath takes negative energy from someone, replacing it with positive energy, where does the negative energy go? Straight into the body of the empath.

My body is a mess.

I suffer from a dozen different difficulties that someone of my age should not yet know. My theory is that it is the result of an accumulation of all that negative energy taken on during the healing process.

One source I use, The Secret Language of Birthdays, says of those born on my date that "Because those born in this week are generally open, accepting, sensitive individuals, their receptivity is high. Consequently, more than most, they can be prone to accidents and disease, as well as to positive experiences of learning and sensuous stimulation. It seems that Pisces II's are fated to live fully in the peaks and valleys of life."

I have gradually begun to figure out the connections between my abilities and my personal difficulties. I now see the cause and effect links.

And as I lay ill in my bed this week, I wondered what I could or should do about it.

The answer, of course, lay right on the foot of the bed with me: a healthy Monte. For my side effects of healing are far less severe than the symptoms I ease in others.

It seems a very small price to pay to share comfort with others.

So, I will continue to get my bi-monthly massages, engage in movement (especially YogaDance), and generally treat myself with care after an empathic encounter. And when I fall ill, I will allow myself to rest and regenerate. Oh, and a little Dairy Queen ice cream never hurts, either.

Such is the cycle of life.

Oh, and keep watching for that post on Hildegard. It's coming. I promise.

Monday, April 19, 2010

A it a midnight call from the divine.

(this is my little baby, Monte, who has been ill...this photo was taken this afternoon)

I recently wrote about the grieving process, and working it all through. Part of the reason for that post was the illness of our poodle, Monte, pictured above.

I spent 48 hours, at least, sobbing, grieving, and trying to come to grips with the news that my baby (well, he's 10.5) had congestive heart failure and that I was probably going to lose him.

As I wrote, here, it was a difficult and introspective process, but at the end of it, I was resolved to let him go when the time was right. After all, Monte has graced us with his presence in so many ways, on a daily basis, that I feel greedy asking for more.

I am happy to report, however, that we have been granted a reprieve. Somewhere, up there, those divine forces at work in the world have decided that Monte isn't done yet. He still has more to do here in his earthly suit.

The change in him is remarkable. By Friday night, I saw my puppy in his eyes once more. Monte stole a sock. That is his favorite game in the world - he steals something and waits, patiently, for me to notice that he has it in his mouth, so I will chase him.

That puppy was absent for a while. I was so thrilled to see him return, not just for my own selfish reasons, but also because I think he has much to do here on earth yet.

I watch him interact with our other animals, and with the humans in his life, and I realize that Monte is an empath and a healer, too. When my mother had her surgery to remove the cancer from her lung, Monte stayed at her feet for a week, watching over her, and giving her healing energy.

Monte also can predict my migraines, which I have always found to be an amazing thing. Before a migraine strikes, he will glue himself to my side (which can be annoying if I'm not paying attention to my migraine warning signs), and he stays there until the headache has passed.

SO, this remarkable, healing pup somehow found a way to heal himself, (ok, I guess modern medicine helped some, too), and he will be with us for a while longer.

And I am immensely grateful.

Monte is a blessing. I hope everyone has the chance to feel a blessing like Monte in their lives.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Complex layers of grief

(This is our wonderful poodle, Monte, sporting a fun St. Patty's Day hat, which he was hoping we would quickly remove....)

This has been a very difficult week. So much emotion flowing from a variety of

First, my cousin's wife went in for surgery to deal with colon cancer. They did a total resection, and removed 30 lymph nodes, 8 of which contained cancerous cells. They said she will need at least 6 months of chemotherapy, and the prognosis is uncertain. Eileen is only 50, and they have 6 children, ranging from age 4 to age 18, all still living at home.

Then, my beautiful baby, pictured above, became ill. It was very sudden. On Monday, he was playing and running and barking and acting like a pup again. (He is 10.5). Tuesday, when I got home, he was lethargic, listless, and struggling to breathe. So, I took him to the vet on Wednesday morning, and the diagnosis was congestive heart failure. His heart is enlarged, and his heart murmer (which he has had since he was six months old) was getting worse, meaning that the valves were leaking fluid. They did x-rays and discovered a huge build-up around his heart. The vet prescribed three different medications, administered twice a day, to see if we can reduce the edema and help him feel better.

And I fell apart.

I basically spent 24 hours sobbing and cuddling my baby.

When the sobbing began to recede, and I could again think with more clarity, I began to examine why I was so upset.

And that led me to think about the aspects of grief.

You see, only part of me was grieving the loss of either my cousin's wife or my pet. The idea that their physical presence might be removed was troubling, to be sure, and I certainly would prefer that they stick around indefinitely.

But there was much more to the grief than that.

I thought about Eileen, the wonderful mother, who might miss out on her daughters' weddings or the birth of her grandchildren. I thought about the strong bond between Eileen and Mark, and how he would feel a tremendous void in his life if she were taken from him. I thought about the wonderful community work that Eileen does, and knew that she would be missed by a wide circle of individuals.

And then I thought about Monte. And I wanted more than anything for him not to be suffering, not to be in pain, or struggling for breath, but to be the young, carefree pup once more. I wanted to remove his discomfort, and to make his life joyous once more.

I watched our three cats, too, as they responded to the events of the week. Our new kitten, Scarlett, seemed to hover around Monte, close enough to watch him but not close enough to torment (which she normally does). And yesterday morning, as I sat with Monte on my lap in the rocker, Scarlett put on a tremendous show for him, playing with a feather and hiding beneath a blanket on the sofa, as if to entice him back to good health.

And I thought about the grief our cats will feel if Monte transitions to another plane.

Monte and I have been through a lot together in our ten and a half years. He was there, literally, when no one else was, during the darkest moments of my life. He is a special puppy, with intuitive abilities. He has been "Doctor Monte" to me and to others who were ill. He is my familiar, and my faithful companion. But he's getting tired. He's worked hard through this earthly life. I need to recognize and respect that.

There is no "formula" for grief or for "working through grief." That much I do know for certain. Each of us feels it in our own unique way, and each of us must find the path to come to terms with the events that have caused us to mourn.

But in grief there is also recognition of past joy. And it is the joy that we must grab, and hold close, even as we say goodbye to the physical forms of our loved ones, and help them with their transitions.

Monte seems to be doing a little bit better today. I don't think he will be finding his 'sparkle suit' quite yet, thank goodness. Eileen has a long road ahead of her, with a very uncertain outcome, so we can only pray and hope that her path is the one of least suffering.

But I know now that whatever happens, whatever the outcomes, both of them graced this world by their engagement in it, and both of them have left us richer for their presence.

Don't be afraid to grieve. Just remember that it's not all about YOU.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

A Holocaust encounter

(The image is of the barbed wire at Maidanek, in Lublin, Poland. The camp in my dream was not Maidanek, but the configuration of most of the camps was very similar.)

I have mentioned on this blog before that I have had some Holocaust-related psychic encounters, particularly when I visited the former camps in Poland and Germany. Last night, I had another encounter that left me deeply affected.

Yesterday, I felt this incredible urge to write. It was as if there were words inside of me just aching to be released.

That, in itself, is not unusual. In fact, I write often.

But last night, these words were not my own.

So, I opened up Word and just started typing, and waited to see what came out. First, I created the poem that I have posted below. But when the poem was finished (I think, anyway), I felt this torrent of words and thoughts, rushing by almost too quickly to comprehend. And I knew, then, that I had a spirit there, desperate to talk.

The first words I heard (and yes, there was a voice in my head - it was not my voice) were "there was barbed wire in my hand...."

I got a strong image of a barbed wire fence, with human beings strewn across it in the anguish of death throes.

I started to hear sounds.

Over and over, I heard the clang of metal on metal, and the shrill of a train whistle.

The room turned ice cold, and I was shivering.

And this young girl, Elena, led me to her story.

It was a very dark one. I felt her desperation and anguish. I saw her surroundings. I knew her motivation.

I saw the confines of the camp, with snow on the ground and the chill only partly from the bitter winter wind. I heard the chatter of the prisoners, the barking of the German dogs, the crunch of boots on gravel and snow. I saw the dark, dark green of the trees, almost black, beyond the camp perimeter, emitting a sinister glow. And I smelled smoke and ash in the sharp air.

And I watched as she made the conscious decision to throw herself on the electrified barbed wire fence rather than let the Nazis kill her. All of this as her five year old sister looked on.

This was one of the most powerful encounters I have experienced to date, and it was one that was incredibly difficult to sever. Elena had much more that she wanted to show me, and her soul is restless because she does not want to be remembered as a coward. Frantically, she repeated over and over, "In choice there is honor and self-respect. I denied them the opportunity to abuse and humiliate me further."

So, today's post is for Elena, and for all of the victims of the Nazi atrocities. It is a reminder to all of us that we should be slow to pass judgement on the actions of others, unless we first walk that mile in their shoes. I will remember you, Elena, and your brave choice.

Here is the poem that emerged:

Seared Images

Twisted bodies,
Entwined bones,
Reaching skyward,
Begging to be set free
From the horrors of their fate.

Burning corpses,
Ash and dust,
Filling trenches,
Rushing quickly before
The Allies reach the gate.

Twirling spirals,
Smoke and bone,
Crackling, hissing,
Rising skyward as they
Release the souls from earth.

Hidden actions,
Deep in silence,
Secret, covert
Mission of the Nazis
Carried out with mirth.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

My first visits to the camps...more back story.

(This image is of the memorial at the camp at Dachau, outside of Munich, Germany).

The Holocaust dreams of my youth had never left me, and often during migraine attacks, I would have a series of repetitive Holocaust dreams, as if my mind were trying desperately to get me to pay attention.

My first visit to former Nazi concentration or death camps had actually been while I was in college.

We were on a Choir tour in Europe, in January of my freshman year in 1985, and we toured the camp at Dachau. Still relatively ignorant of the facts of the Holocaust, I experienced a bone-wrenching sorrow the day we entered the camp.

It was snowing that day – a cold, heavy, wet snow that permeated the various layers of winter clothing and chilled me to the bone and made me identify with the victims who were exposed to the elements without the benefit of protection.

At the time, I did not understand the sensations that bombarded me, but in retrospect it is clear that on that day the victims were reaching out to tell me their stories. I also suffered a serious migraine the night after our visit to Dachau.

I would return to Dachau and to the camp at Mauthausen three years later, with similar experiences, including a repetition of the migraines. These short visits would simmer in the depths of my psyche for years before their significance would be revealed.

It was not until I was in my late 30s that I would begin to grasp the gift that I had been given, and actively seek to develop my psychic abilities.

As I began to open up to the sensations and insights, instead of suppressing or resisting them, I discovered that my psychic revelations were intense, accurate, and could not be ignored. I discovered that I had a gift of psychic sight, as well as the gift of being an empath. This mixed blessing has allowed me to feel others’ pain as if it were my own, sometimes blending the lines between the two. It has also allowed me to see what causes the pain.

How I have experience pain is the topic for a future post.

These first visits to the camps had a profound impact upon me. Unconsciously, they began to tickle my psychic side, and help these sensations to begin to unfold. It was as if a seed had been planted, germinating, just waiting for the appropriate spring air to urge it into full growth above the soil.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

A job well done.

(me, doing the introductions for the conference this morning, as conference organizer extraordinaire!)

Today was our conference on campus, the one for which I have been planning and working and organizing all year. I spoke of it in an earlier post here.

We had over 120 students and faculty on our little piece of Erie earth today, from 13 different institutions. It was a HUGE response for our school to get, all due to my own efforts at promoting and recruiting participation from the region.

Organizing the conference, which I did basically single-handedly, was an UNBELIEVABLE amount of work. So many details to think about, so much to coordinate, that I never thought I could pull it off. I was nervous and anxious and kept thinking that sure I MUST have overlooked SOMETHING.

Today, I was waiting for the big catastrophe to hit.

Anticipating the problems to unfold.

And then.....the day came off beautifully. Without a hitch. No glitches to speak of, not even with the technology! Now THAT was a miracle!

I mingled and greeted and encouraged students all day long.

And I got rave reviews from the faculty and students from our visiting schools.

They told me that they appreciated all of the hard work that it took to pull off this day so well. They thanked me for a great conference. They told my I had done a great job.

And I HAD done a great job. I was FLYING today, on the wings of a job well done. I am GOOD at this. Everyone thought it looked easy. That is the magic of doing things well - even difficult things - making it look simple.

Meanwhile, the faculty from my own institution could barely bother to even just SHOW UP. Three of them left before the Keynote speaker's talk. The fourth disappeared sometime thereafter. Only one of my colleagues stayed to the bitter end. Nary a thank you. Not one single "wow, what a great day this was!" No appreciation for what I had done. Zippo.

And it made me question, again, just WHY I did all of this work? Hosting the conference was not MY idea, by the way. I was "encouraged" to do this by the others in my department, and I just agreed.

And as I stood on the stage at the end of the day, watching the auditorium empty after the awards were given out, I KNEW why I had done it. I did it for those students, who had a most amazing experience today, sharing their work, engaging in academic discourse, and testing their wings. I let each of them FLY today, too.

And there is no more worthy thing in all the world than to help someone else FLY.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Migraines and Psychic receptivity ... my back story, part 2

(The photo is of one of my business cards, and I chose this image because it reminds me of what I see when I get auras. If you look at it the right way, you can also see faces in the image....)

When I was in college, I developed serious problems with migraines, often suffering headaches that sent me scrambling into the dark, silent recesses of my dorm room for days at a time.

The slightest light or noise was excruciating during these attacks, and I also suffered severe numbness in my hands, forearms, and face. The first signs of these migraines were the classic “auras” – a visual sensation that causes my vision to go haywire.

I see flashing dots of light, in which half of my line of vision in each eye is covered by light. I also suffer from “tunnel vision,” in which I can only see a small portion of images directly in front of me, and my peripheral vision vanishes.

These auras would last anywhere from 10 minutes to several hours in duration before the actual pain of the headache would set in.

The amazing thing about these headaches, however, was that they also brought incredible mental acuity in their wake. I would rouse from these bouts feeling physically and mentally drained, yet able to “see” and “know” things with absolute clarity that had not existed before the attacks.

Later, I became interested in Hildegarde of Bingen, a medieval nun who rose to great fame because of her mystical visions and her abilities to give the great leaders of Europe excellent advice about their lives. When I read about Hildegarde’s migraines, and the interpretation that it was her migraines that produced her visions, it piqued my curiosity, and I began to do more subtle investigation of the phenomena.

It appears that some scientists are trying to find a direct connection between migraine and psychic receptivity.

I still suffer from migraines today, and it is often during these attacks that I have the most heightened psychic sensations. On the other hand, powerful psychic encounters can trigger migraines for me as well.

The Holocaust dreams of my youth had never left me, and often during migraine attacks, I would have a series of repetitive Holocaust dreams, as if my mind were trying desperately to get me to pay attention.

My first visit to former Nazi concentration or death camps had actually been while I was in college. We were on a Choir tour in Europe, in January of my freshman year in 1985, and we toured the camp at Dachau.

Still relatively ignorant of the facts of the Holocaust, I experienced a bone-wrenching sorrow the day we entered the camp.

It was snowing that day – a cold, heavy, wet snow that permeated the various layers of winter clothing and chilled me to the bone and made me identify with the victims who were exposed to the elements without the benefit of protection.

At the time, I did not understand the sensations that bombarded me, but in retrospect it is clear that on that day the victims were reaching out to tell me their stories. I also suffered a serious migraine the night after our visit to Dachau.

I would return to Dachau and to the camp at Mauthausen three years later, with similar experiences, including a repetition of the migraines. These short visits would simmer in the depths of my psyche for years before their significance would be revealed.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

My psychic back story

When I began this blog, I pledged that it would be a place to explore issues of the psychic realm. I began the blog with the introductions to my tarot deck, which have since been interrupted, but never fear more of those installments will be coming in the future.

As I began to write, and reflect, I began to insert more of myself and my current situation into the blog.

Thus the posts on balance, epiphany, and rediscovery.

Last night, as I was fighting yet another stretch of elusive sleep, I started thinking about how else I might utilize my blog. I thought perhaps it might be good to share some of my own back story, the stuff that has led me to where I am now, as a psychic guide.

I am also in the process of writing a book, that I have titled "Psychic Trails through the Camps..." It will be, when it is finished, an investigation of the psychic experiences I had while visiting and exploring a number of the former concentration camps in Europe. The book will also include discussions of my own psychic development that led me to where I am today.

As I work on the manuscript, I decided I should share pieces of the story here. I thought I would start with my early experiences and development.

So, without further ado, here is installment one of "Psychic Trails through the Camps..."

My Story
We all serve a purpose (or multiple purposes) in our lives.

Recently, I have been enlightened as to one of my purposes: to serve as a second generation witness to the atrocities of the Holocaust.

All of my life, since I was a child of about 4 years old (my earliest memories), I have suffered from nightmares that I could not explain – dreams in which I was imprisoned in the most horrendous hell on earth, sentenced to die well before my time, forced to watch as those around me were punished, subjected to the cruel whims of our captors. These dreams started long before I had ever heard the term Holocaust or had any knowledge of what those events really were. And they included detail and information that I should not and could not have known. Each dream was a vivid recollection of events, often replaying over and over in my mind, always with the same gruesome result.

These dreams have continued throughout my adult life, recurring in many different forms, yet remaining essentially unchanged. It was these dreams, in some real sense, that guided me to my chosen field of study, the Holocaust.

As I have come to learn more, however, both about the Holocaust as a historical event, and about my own dreams, I have come to realize that I have a deeper purpose here: to act not only as a teacher of these events to prevent their repetition, but also to tell the stories of those who can no longer share their experiences with us.

And this brings me to another aspect of my experience of the Holocaust. All of my life, in addition to the nightmares mentioned above, I have had a string of visions, feelings, and premonitions that I never quite understood. I often knew when people were ill, even before they realized it, and I predicted a number of events in our personal life.

When I was just six years old, my maternal grandfather died, to whom I was very close. I was allowed to attend the wake, though my parents believed I was too young to understand what had happened. As I approached the casket with my father, his hand on my shoulder, I had my first physical psychic experience. The rest of the room disappeared from my view, and only my grandfather and I remained, as if in a tunnel of light, surrounded by darkness. My grandfather opened his eyes, took my hand, smiled, and told me not to worry. Things would be ok, he promised, and he told me he loved me, smiled again, and closed his eyes. My hand slipped out of his, and the rest of the room came back into view.

To this day, I remain convinced that this exchange actually took place, despite the skepticism of others.

Still, I pushed these incidents aside, and did not realize or accept their true significance. As a youth, I was afraid to say much to others about the experiences I was having, for fear of being labeled as a freak or as mentally unbalanced. It also led me to actively ignore the sensations when they appeared, and suppress my abilities, despite their growing power.

It would not be until much later that I would be able to begin to make sense of these early sensations and understand them for what they really are. In the meantime, these experiences haunted me, and made me feel strange and isolated.

Have you ever experienced these things? How have you accepted or rejected your abilities? What have you done to come to terms with your heightened perceptions?

Meditative healing with candles

Recently, a good friend of mine has been plagued with debilitating nightmares. Night terrors, really. They have kept her from being rested and balanced. I, too, have been suffering from a series of nightmares.

When she came to me for advice about how to deal with these dreams, and to decipher their significance, I examined my own dreams as well. The symbolism in both sets of dreams was easy enough to decode. We both have our own personal demons that are taunting us at the moment. Mine, as I have written about earlier on this blog, center around my job anxieties.

And my prescription, for both of us, was meditation with candles. Color and flame are very powerful when combined with the meditation of the mind.

I decided that we both needed balance. So my prescription was orange and green candles, with some meditative thought and practice.

Why orange and green, you ask?

Orange is a power color. It is a healing color. It represents vitality with endurance. Orange is associated with the benign warmth of the sun, as apposed to the fiery heat of red. Curiosity is a driving characteristic of orange, and with it comes exploration of new things.

Some believe that if a change is necessary in life, one should burn an orange candle for 7 days to facilitate the transition.

Orange is a very helpful color when you want to increase your creativity, or want relief from things (or problems) that are too serious. It can help us become more involved in something or to spice things up when our lives seem to be dragging along.

Orange is used to promote personal power and is useful for those who could use more self-esteem. Orange can help us stimulate creativity, mental acuity, and the ability to adjust to change.

Orange can also help us to balance the emotions. It can bring about a willingness to embrace new ideas with enjoyment and a sense of exploration and creative play.

It is also associated with the Sacral Hara Chakra, which is the Chakra that controls sexuality and reproduction.

The color green is the color of nature, fertility, and life. It symbolizes self-respect and well-being. It is the color of balance. Green also represents learning, growth, and harmony. It was believed that green was healing for the eyes.

Green is the color of the master healer and the life force. Obviously, it can also represent money.

Green contains the powerful energies of nature, growth, and the desire to expand or increase. Balance and a sense of order are primary characteristics of green. Change and transformation is necessary for growth, so this ability to sustain changes in also a part of the green energy.

Green is good when you want a new state of balance, or feel a need for change or growth. It can also help unleash the necessary freedom to pursue new idea and provides protection from fears and anxieties connected with the demands of others.

Green can be used to attract money, prosperity, and wealth, but is also a balancing color that promotes growth and fertility. This color is useful to promote balance, change, and growth. Green may also be used to overcome a sense of thwarted ambition.

Green is the color associated with the Heart Chakra, dealing with higher consciousness and love.

Combined, then, orange and green should work to restore balance, creativity, and harmony. They will work together to open up both the Heart and Sacral Hara Chakra, restoring personal power, creativity, and balance.

Ironically, last week, before my friend and I discussed these issues, I was shopping and had this incredible urge to buy orange and green candles, so I did. My subconscious had already prescribed what I needed before my conscious could recognize the cure.

So, my advice to my friend was to spend 15 minutes a night, before some lit orange and green candles, in a meditative state, reflecting on the flames, letting her mind go, to cleanse and restore her balance. I told her to let the colors do their magic.

What do you need in your life? Find the right colors, and dive into your own meditative reflection. It works.