Christiana's Corner

Elemental poetry

2011-03-28T18:26:00.000-07:00

I have returned to my swim routine lately, and have been reunited with my elemental needs, as I mentioned in my last post. As I swam today, letting the water envelop me and rejuvenate me, I called to mind a couple of poems I had written about the elements, and thought it was an appropriate time to post them here.

Elemental Life Forces
1-22-06

Earth, water, wind, and fire
All come together to fuel desire
Each in turn empowers me
To be the goddess I shall be.

Wind, water, fire, and earth,
Together produce a sense of mirth.
A union of our sacred souls
Joined as one become a whole.

Fire, earth, wind, and water,
Come together to form my daughter,
Creative forces bring her forth
So that I may prove my worth.

Water, earth, fire, and wind,
Touches all beneath my skin.
These forces are what make me whole
They breathe life into my soul.

Life force
1-16-06

The pool enfolds me,
Cloaking me,
Its watery depths
Caressing,
Massaging,
Cleansing,
As my body glides,
Embracing the liquid life force
That fills the pool.

The world recedes,
As life’s base rhythms emerge,
Breath roars in my ears,
The rush of water
Entombs my senses
Shutting out all else
And stoking the fires within.

Burning, churning,
Energy courses.
A lava flow,
Roiling up from the depths,
Waiting, ready,
To spew forth its power
In awesome majesty.

Elemental Needs, redux

2011-03-23T09:22:00.000-07:00

I have been uncharacteristically silent here on my blog for some time now, as I have been struggling to make sense of the recent events and developments in my life. I must admit, I have been battling some depression in the last several months, making it difficult to focus on much beyond basic survival. So much of my process has escaped description in words, so even as I opened the blog to write, I simply sat mute, staring at the blank page.

I still find myself at a loss to explain the directions my life has gone lately, but I also know that my mind is hard at work, delving deeply for resolution. This is most clearly revealed in the intensity and symbolism of my recent dreams.

The symbolism is vivid, powerful, and evocative.

For example, the other night I dreamt that we were hosting a party, but the finished basement kept flooding, and with the water emerged flows of black beetles, all of which made me very angry as I tried to focus on our guests and keep the flooding under control (and out of sight of the guests).

Upon examination, this dream is not very difficult to interpret. The basement represents the deepest layers of my mind - the subconscious - which is being overcome by emotions (the water) that are out of control. The beetles represent forces at work against me, perhaps representing what I perceive to be deceit or trickery around me. All the while, I am desperately striving to maintain an appearance of outward calm and normalcy, as the hostess of the party. In all, not surprising, as I struggling daily to reconcile my life.

As the final term of my current employment marches ever closer to its end, I also am trying to deal with the health issues confronting me. Presently, I am in a waiting game, ticking off time until we check to see if the abnormal cells have returned.

I have never been patient, and I never deal well with uncertainty, so this three months of "wait and see" have created much anxiety, adding to my already full plate of discomfort.

In a couple of weeks, I have the test repeated and then wait for results.

In the depths of my angst, trying to keep afloat as the waves of anxiety wash over me, I have people reassuring me that things will all work out for the best. Ironically, it reminds me of the story of Voltaire's Candide, where he argues that, at each moment, "this is the best of all possible worlds." It's hard to understand how these seemingly negative situations could possibly be for the best.

And yet, I get these moments of great clarity and affirmation, in the midst of all of this junk.

Last weekend, I was blessed with a visit from my closest friend, Ellen, and her two children. We spent hours talking and sharing, hugging, and engaging in deep, make-your-belly-hurt laughter. It was an incredibly cathartic experience. My deepest angst took a much needed break and allowed me to reassess the blessings that surround me. It felt good, especially as Saturday was the "largest" full moon of the calendar year.

Ellen and my moon recharged me, giving me the energy to continue.

This week, I have returned to swimming. Even after a LONG hiatus, due mainly to my health, I was able to complete my regular routine without too much difficulty. Ironically, this return to swimming was not as soothing as I had anticipated, and I believe it is because I spent too much time away.

The lessons of this week have to do with being true to ourselves and to each other.

I have pledged to continue swimming. I have even committed it to my planner, making it harder to make excuses for not getting there. I have also pledged myself to feeding my other elemental needs as well.

Fire, Water, Air, and Earth. Together these are the elements which must be balanced for us to reach a sense of equilibrium.

My weekend with Ellen reawakened my awareness of these elemental needs.

We sat for hours beside a gorgeous fire, watching the dancing flames and embracing its glowing warmth. We saw the full moon and felt its energy charging the air. I felt the hard earth beneath my chilled feet, supporting me. And I returned to the waters that embrace my very being and give motion to my soul.

So, this week, even as we face more difficulties and sorrow around us, I remain committed to these elemental forces and recognizing their role in helping me cope. The universe is not always calm, but it is always readjusting itself to remain in balance.

Here's to maintaining balance.

"What now?"

2011-01-06T05:25:00.000-08:00

As I wrote about in my last post, I have been experiencing some health issues of late, culminating in a surgical procedure before Christmas. I had to wait an agonizing three weeks to get the pathology results back. The fact that they did not simply call and say “everything is fine,” made me quite anxious about the findings.

Yesterday, I went to the doctor to review the results. They were not positive.

It turns out that I have Stage Zero Cervical Cancer. Now we play a waiting game, but most likely it will mean a hysterectomy, most likely some time this summer.

The good news (ha!) is that it has not yet spread, and they appear to have gotten the infected cells with the procedure. Now we wait, and in three months, I get retested to see if the cells have returned. If they have, the next step is the hysterectomy. Statistically, the odds are very high that the cells will return.

I admit, my first response was “Why me?”

I came home, told my husband the news, and proceeded to wallow in self-pity for the rest of the night. I enjoyed a huge crying spree, and I spent the evening in bed with our pets. I thought about the finality of this diagnosis in terms of my ability to have a child. I worried that I would be left all alone. I let myself be despondent.

This morning, though, I woke and tried to look at it from another perspective.

I have always believed that things happen for a reason in our lives. There is a greater purpose at work, challenging us and driving us to do particular things during our time here. And, I recognized, that greater purpose is not always immediate clear to us. Sometimes, it is never clear. But it is always there.

So, I started to think about this recent set of events, and asked not “Why me?” but “What now?”

As cancers go, cervical cancer is one of the most treatable cancers. We have caught it early. It is treatable and I can expect a very high survival rate after the surgery. This is good news.

This diagnosis does come at a rather difficult time in my life, as I am transitioning out of my old career and trying to find a new path to follow. I reflected this morning that perhaps this set of events has come to give me greater insight regarding my new opportunities.

I have always had issues with control over my life, never liking uncertainty, and I have needed to know exactly what was going to happen next. This past year, both the loss of my job and this new diagnosis, are challenging that need. I could fret and stew and worry over what exactly tomorrow, or next week, or next month will bring, or I can live for each day and be grateful for the boundless joys that surround me.

Things have always had a way of working out. Sometimes, they didn’t work out the way I anticipated, but they always took me forward, made me stronger, made me a better person.

My current position is what brought me to Erie, an event that led me to my husband Dave. For that I am eternally grateful.

Now it is time for me to move on, with Dave by my side of course, and find my next purpose in life. The current diagnosis and my prognosis suggest to me that perhaps I need to be looking in new directions for the future. As I head into the next several months, my new mantra will be “what now?”

“What new opportunities can I see around me?”
“What will this new day bring me?”
“What can I do now to overcome the challenges that lie before me?”
“Why me” has been relegated to 2010. “What now” is the motto for 2011.

Will you join me?

Remember what is important.

2010-12-17T06:58:00.001-08:00

(Jude, the stuffed santa hamster my husband Dave bought me at the hospital gift shop last night)

Yesterday, I went into the hospital for what they term a "minor procedure." It was scheduled as an outpatient surgery, and they said it was no big deal. The risks, overall, were minor, and the surgeon has done thousands, I'm sure. And as I prepared for the "procedure," I was a bit nervous but not terribly upset about what I was having done. I was, however, concerned about how I would react to the anesthesia.

Turns out, my premonition was dead on.

When they brought me out after the short procedure, the first thing I did was throw up. That was unpleasant enough, and I did it twice. This was still in the OR. Then they wheeled me into post-op recovery, where they removed the oxygen and tried to get me coherent. At this point, I could not move my limbs and could not control my muscles to draw a breath. I was not getting air. Most frightening, however, was that I could not tell them what was going on, as I had no bodily control. It took them a moment to realize what was occurring.

In those few moments, so many thoughts were racing through my head. For one of the few times in my life, I was actually contemplating the reality of death head on.

You know how they say your whole life flashes in front of your eyes when you face "the end?" That's not quite true, at least not in my case.

My first, and most important thought, was of my wonderful husband Dave. He consumed my thoughts at that moment. In fact, I can't remember thinking about anything else.

They had me flat on the bed, and had to reintubate me with oxygen. Slowly, they were able to reverse the effects of relaxation drugs in my system, and after about 20 minutes I guess (time is vague), they took my off oxygen. Once the panic was gone, my mind was clearer, but it still focused on Dave.

It has been a tense and stressful year for me this year, with much to think about and much uncertainty.

The one constant, however, is and always has been My Dave. And for that, I am truly, truly grateful. With Dave (and our pets) in my life, the rest are all minor speed bumps to be negotiated along the way.

Love, family, friends. This is what is truly important. And what better time to be reminded of the basic important things in life than now, in the midst of all of the holiday frenzy.

I made a vow, last night, to take a moment (or 20) every day not only to recognize what is truly important in my life, but to let them know it as well.

Oh, and "Jude," the santa hamster, is named for a reason. Jude, of course, is from a Beatles song, but also is the patron saint of children. And are we not, all, children at heart?

So Jude now has a position of prominence on my desk, and is watching as I write this.

Here's to what is truly important, and may I continue to be blessed with the love and caring that surround me at this moment.

Carpe Diem.

Dancing through the Depths of my Mind

2010-10-18T09:36:00.000-07:00

Last night I had several souls dancing their way through my brain.

This is not a unique experience, per se. I often, especially as the moon approaches its full phase, open up psychically and seem to invite visitors into my mind.

Usually, however, they appear one at a time, and make their presence known before they start knocking around in the cabinets of my cerebellum. You know, they ring the doorbell before barging in, just in case they might be catching me in my birthday suit.

I must have been wide open last night, for I had not one, but several visitors clunking around in my sacred space. It took me a while to sort them out and identify the individual forces at work there.

One was a familiar visitor, an old friend who periodically appears and likes to camp out in the place I call my "junk pile" - this is the home of my short term memory, where he pulls out random ideas, images and symbols to admire and evaluate.

"Red velvet. France. Chinese food. Turquoise."

This is how a typical encounter with Jack might sound, a one-sided litany as he dug through the rubble he discovered.

"Yes, Jack," I would answer, "But you're in the trash heap again. It's all just junk."

For Jack, however, this rubbish heap was a comfortable - and safe -place to rest.

So Jack was curled up in the trash pile last night, while two other entities poked and prodded in other - more significant areas of my brain.

Though I never identified either clearly, it became obvious that the first was a soul searching for guidance and stability. He sat towards the back of my head, just behind my right ear, scratching at me in much the same way that my poodle, Monte, does when he is desperate for attention. His need was deep - achingly so - and it fatigued me greatly as he attempted to draw from my strength to find his way.

The third force had a more sinister sense, and settled deeply into the subconscious portion of my mind, as if it were a spy, digging for forbidden information. This third force snuck in on the heels of the second, stealthily, and was much more tentative in its probing. It eventually retreated, with resignation, without finding whatever it had hoped to discover.

These visitors, each in their own spot, have an interesting effect upon my head. The first sensation is a sort of heaviness in my head, a slight pressure, in the place they enter. As they begin to explore, my head begins to buzz with energy, and it feels as if there are fairies or small animals trodding on my brain. It feels a bit like a series of goosebumps across the inside of my head. The longer the entities remain, the higher the energy levels rise. And once these forces enter my mind, it is often difficult to force them out until they are ready to go. Last night, Jack was the last to leave, snuggling in for many hours before finally letting go and slipping away into the night.

Ultimately, the biggest effect of these visits is that they sap my energy and steal my sleep. Today, I feel like the walking dead. I have often theorized that this is precisely why they come.

In times of high energy, I broadcast to others with psychic abilities, and they rush to take advantage of the available energy. Jack used to tell me that when my energy is at its peak, I transmit like a beacon, to all those who can read it. I imagine my brain as a sort of psychic gas station. Last night, I had three eager "customers" pull in to top off. While they were there, they danced through my head, poked and prodded, and left no corners unexamined.

And as I finish writing this post, in has crept Jack once again, to hang out in the junk pile of my mind, curling up in the corner just like the family dog snuggling in front of the hearth.

Now, I need a nap!

Several Holocaust Poems.

2010-10-11T14:25:00.000-07:00

(The Ghetto Wall in Krakow, Poland)

I had another episode last night and today, where I felt overtaken by spirits who wanted to be heard. Out if this experience, came several new poems, which I have included in this blog. I will let them speak for themselves.

The (Un)natural Law of Race
10-11-10

The genetic tree
Has twisted roots
Driven deeply into the past.
Social Darwinists
Dig out the rot
They believe have effects that last.

Eugenic science –
Imposter beliefs –
Guide the policies of the state
Cleansing of the blood,
Curing the ailments of her people.
In hopes that it is not too late.

Misguided in thought,
Manipulated,
The Germans complied,
And after these thoughts
Were carried out,
Millions had died.

The slippery slope
Eugenics led
Had great long-term effects.
It had at its core
The lofty goal of
Eliminating all defects.

Purity of blood,
Racially pure,
This was Hitler’s call
And then in the end,
Policies led
To Germany’s fall.

(the former killing center of Belzec, in Poland)

ABCs of Death
10-11-10

Auschwitz and Appell
Belzec
Chelmno
Dachau and Dehumanization
Einsatzgruppen and Experimentation
Fear.
Ghettos
Hitler, Himmler, and Heydrich
Ideology
Jews
Kapos
Lagers and Lebensraum
Mengele and Monsters
National Socialism
Ordnungdienst
Piles of corpses.
Queues of prisoners
Rations of Bread
Schutzstaffeln and Selections
Transports
Unterwertige, the Undesirables
Vaterland
Weltanschauung
“X”ecutions
Yiddish prayer
Zyklon B

(the Memorial at Dachau, outside of Munich, Germany)

Life Unworthy of Life
10-11-10

Hadamar, Hartheim, Sonnestein,
Places of horrors past,
Those whose images last,
Now mingling and blending through time.

Here the victims took final breath
Never to rest in peace,
Whose suff’ring never cease,
Immortal pain, even in death.

Euthanasia was the label,
Justifying killing,
Victims went unwilling
To their deaths upon the table.

Injection, pill, or starvation,
Perhaps a whiff of gas,
Is how their deaths would pass,
All to further Hitler’s nation.

“I’m not guilty,” all would argue,
Another bears the blame,
For this genetic game,
"For Hitler’ Reich these deeds I do."

So if the perpetrator’s role
Eliminates their guilt,
Their argument was built
Upon their victims’ loss of soul.

If not the doctors, then, I ask,
Who therefore bears the blame
In Master Race’s name,
To carry out this evil task?

Perhaps we all should share the weight,
For euthanasia’s cast
For generations past,
Whose crimes of hate will not abate.

For who decides the worth of man
And who is better dead,
When valued life is led,
Or whose whole future we should ban?

When mortals play the role of god,
And choose the path of fate,
An evil incarnate
Over the human streets shall trod.

(Shoes taken from concentration camp inmates)

The Dreamweaver's subtle language of the self

2010-10-06T10:20:00.000-07:00

(Altar of the Church of the Nativity in Erie)

I have been suffering from a series of disturbing and related dreams for weeks now, so I thought it was time to write a post about dream symbolism and their messages.

Sunday, we enjoyed the Dinner in Old Russia at the Russian Church of the Nativity here in Erie. After the meal, we went into the church itself, and I spent quite a long time admiring the chapel and taking photographs. The stained glass windows in particular struck me, and reminded me that I need to be a bit more reflective myself.

(Stained glass window at the Church of the Nativity)

Perhaps it was the vivid blue of the glass, or the simplicity of the designs in the windows, but whatever it was drew my attention immediately, and kept me fixated on those windows, even as I struggled to move away and take in the splendor of the iconography that adorns every available space in the chapel.

I even stopped and lit a candle, a ritual that I do not often complete, but which I felt compelled to perform on that rainy Sunday afternoon.

(Prayer Candles at Church of the Nativity)

The three of us (me, my husband, and my father-in-law) were the only ones in the chapel at the time. My father-in-law discovered the alms box, where donations are accepted for the candles. He stated flatly, "I'm going to light a candle." And, in that moment, I knew I needed to do the same.

So I lit a candle. And I lit it for all the suffering in the world, especially those who have been the object of tormenting and teasing in their years of development and adolescence. I thought about the recent victims of bullying who have given their lives senselessly, both those whose names made the nightly news and the many, many more whose names did not see the public eye.

And the action, the lighting of the candle, also turned my attention inward, to my own experiences, and my dreams of late.

Though the subject matter of the dreams varies, there are common elements. First is the ever present element of water. Water represents emotion, and in my case the sense of being overwhelmed by emotion and not knowing what direction to turn. As the dreams have progessed, so has the size and power of the water in them. Most recently, I was swimming in (and against) the ocean, in order to reach the bathhouse, which was located offshore and only accessible through the water. What a clear message that sent me! I need to resolve my emotions, but I can only do so by pushing THROUGH the emotions themselves. Quite a spot, I'm sure.

Another common element has been the presence of a young girl, often in distress. In one dream, I watched a young girl walk into a lake and drown herself, while I and others stood by pondering her intent and wondering if we should stop her until it was too late. In another dream, I was in charge of a young girl, trying to comfort her, but instead my actions made her more distressed. In a third, the young girl was the daughter of my best friend, who was very upset and concerned that she could not dry off (she was freezing cold) and I was trying, unsuccessfully, to help her warm up. These images all seem to point to my need to nurture, but the feeling that I was not doing a very good job of it after all. It reflects my sense of insecurity and lack of confidence that I am, in fact, making a difference in the lives of those I touch, both figuratively and literally.

And underlying all the images and the messages, is the most subtle and also the most subversive of them all: the idea that I am not worthy, that I am inferior, that I do not deserve to be happy or successful.

And these feelings have very deep roots, going back to my childhood, to a childhood much like that of those for whom I lit that candle in the Church of the Nativity. But in my case, it was not just in the school yard that I experienced denigration of my self, but in the bosom of my family, at the hand of my paternal grandmother.

So, as I fight to achieve stability in my life and figure out my path, my dreams are digging deeply into my past and revealing those (I thought) long-resolved feelings of insecurity and fear, and shining them over the movie screen of my dreams over and over again, coming at me like the proverbial two-by-four to pound me into submission.

And yet, the glimmer of hope remains, as I struggle to translate this twisted language of dreamland, that I will not succumb, as I once might have, to these feelings of inferiority. Because now I have more strength and more love in my life than ever before. And with the help of my loved ones (both human and furred), I will conquer these challenges to my weary brain and move past the images of failure into the brighter ones of success.

Dreamweaver, weave your magic. But tonight, remember, I am no longer interested in wallowing in the past oceans of despair, but would like to soar to the new heights of self-awareness and control. Oh, and while you're at it, you can take the migraines with you, too.

(Ceiling and image of the iconography in the Church of the Nativity)
Here's to happy dreams, and a happy self.

An Affirmation

2010-09-18T08:39:00.000-07:00

(the historical map that hangs over my home desk)

Yesterday, I had a totally affirming moment with a student after my last class of the day.

The interchange validated what I do on a daily basis, and it made me feel like I was flying.

Yesterday, we were discussing the Armenian Genocide of 1915 (which did, in fact, take place) and the modernization efforts of Mustafa Kemal in the emerging Republic of Turkey in the post-war years.

After class, one student came up to talk to me. He is from Somalia, originally, and his family fled when he was just a child to avoid the violence there.

His first comment was, "I really am enjoying this class very much. I appreciate that you let us discuss things and voice our opinions and come to our own conclusions. I'm a senior, and I had been avoiding my history requirement, because I dreaded taking it. I thought it was going to be like high school, where you just threw a bunch of facts at us."

And I knew, in that moment, that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing in this life.

I am opening young minds to the possibilities.

I am charging them to become independent thinkers, to use evidence to draw their own conclusions, and to follow through on their thoughts with actions.

He went on to say that he is committed to making the world a safer place, so that things like this can not take place ever again.

He has a police background, and is working to go into full-time law enforcement.

He told me that as they were fleeing from Somalia, he asked his mother why people do such horrible things. He said, "How can this happen?"

She replied, "All that is necessary for evil to occur is for good men to do nothing." (a very famous quotation, by the way, from Eleanor Roosevelt).

And he told me that is why he is determined to go into law enforcement.

I told him we need more people like him in our world.

This thoughtful, intelligent, determined young man is going to leave his mark on our world. I can see that very clearly.

And he let me know, in no uncertain terms yesterday afternoon, that I have left my mark on him.

I feel honored.

And I flew.

Tales of the Tall Ships

2010-09-12T08:08:00.000-07:00

(The Bounty)

This weekend the Tall Ships tackled the Erie docks for a spectacular festival showcasing these marvelous sailing vessels.

There were six ships here all weekend: The Bounty, the Niagara, the Lynx, the Roald Admundson, the Unicorn, and the Pride of Baltimore II.

We spent a delightful day on Dobbins Landing, soaking in the history and romance of these impressive ships.

My personal favorite was the Bounty, a ship built as a replica of the original Bounty in 1960 for the Marlon Brando film "Mutiny on the Bounty." This ship has also made appearances in other films, including the recent "Pirates of the Carribean" films.

This ship simply oozed romance, power, and history. Belowdecks, the woodwork gleamed. The red leather in the captain's office glowed. And we got a real glimpse of the life the sailors led as they took these ships into unknown and often dangerous territory.

(the rigging of the Bounty)

The rigging and flags on the Bounty took my breath away.

We also were able to board the Niagara, whose home base is Erie. This is a replica of the ship from the War of 1812, the flagship of Oliver Hazard Perry. It is also an awesome vessel.

(the Flagship Niagara)

Belowdecks, one has to duck in order to move through the cramped quarters. (and if I have to duck, as I stand at only 5'1" tall, you know that the ceilings are indeed low!). Aboard the Niagara, the cook was in the process of preparing lunch for the crew, in the tiny galley, and let me tell you, lunch sure smelled good!

(flag on the rigging of the Niagara)

The third vessel that we had time to tour was the Lynx, a much smaller ship that the Bounty and Niagara. Based out of Newport Beach, CA, the Lynx is an interpretation of a naval schooner, approximating the original Lynx built in 1812, which was among the first ships to defend recently won American freedom by evading the British aval fleet that blockaded U.S. ports.

(the rigging of the Lynx and the Niagara, Lynx in foreground)

The Lynx, though small, was also impressive, as we were informed that she can travel up to 12 knots under sail. A beautiful ship, indeed.

(view through the gunwhale of the Lynx)

We also took the opportunity to go to the top of the Tower on Dobbins Landing, to take advantage of the spectacular panoramic view of the ships from above.

(the view from the tower, Niagara on the left, Unicorn top right and Roald Admundsen lower right).

The weather was a perfect Fall day, with plenty of sunshine, a gentle breeze, and temperatures hovering right around 70 degrees. I could not have asked for a better overall experience, as I let go of everything but the sensation of the sailing ships around me.

And it reminded me, again, of the significance of hands on education, and the importance of seeing "how it really was."

All in all, the Tall Ships Festival in Erie rates a huge FIVE STARS out of FIVE. I hope they repeat the experience many times.

(powder barrel aboard the Bounty)

Ready or Not, Here I Come!

2010-09-01T13:24:00.000-07:00

Today was the first day of classes for me.

As many of you know, I was approaching this day with a great deal of trepidation. How would the students respond to me? Would they KNOW I was denied tenure? Would they treat me differently? Mock me? Scorn me?

I was a bundle of nerves. Raw energy. Ready to be labeled a failure before I even began.

And I walked into my classroom at 7:50am this morning to find two thirds of the class already there. Many greeted me with a cheerful "Good morning!" I responded in kind, sounding much more confident and upbeat that I really was.

And I proceeded to the podium to open the computer and get set up for class. Of course, I was having technical difficulties (par for the course at my institution).

As I was working, I glanced around the room, registering faces and scoping the students to gauge the tenor of the class.

And I heard a bright voice ring out "Are you ready for us, Dr. Kern?"

Following the voice, I found a female adult student, smiling with bright eyes, gazing intently at me. "Are you ready, Dr. Kern? Ready for us?" She repeated.

And I smiled back at her, broadly, and responded "yes, I am! Are you ready to be back?"

And in that moment, I knew I was, indeed, ready. I have always been ready. For the classroom is exactly where I belong.

And this morning, in that 8am class, I had one of the best class sessions ever. I felt alive and vital and on top of my game, and the students responded. My passion for history and for teaching shone through all the crap and crud of the past year, and everything fell away except that passion. The students felt it. They grasped it. And I reveled in that moment.

That student, with her casual charge, "Are you ready for us, Dr. Kern?" reignited me.

So, despite the difficulty of facing my colleagues on a daily basis, and the stress of being in a place where SOME of my coworkers don't want me, I will have a good year.

Because it's not about them. It never has been.

It's about the students. It always has been, for me.

The rest of my day went well, too. I had two other good classes (though not as good as that first one), and I had a visit from a student, interested in World War II, who just stopped in to chat about his interests.

All in all, a highly successful first day back.

The first of many, I hope. It's time for my to fly, and teaching gives me my wind.

So watch out, world. Ready or not, here I come!

Headlong into the wind....

2010-08-24T10:18:00.000-07:00

(our newly remodeled home office)

If you have been reading my blog, you know that I've had a rough time of things regarding my career. This year marks my last year at my current institution, and I admit that I am facing the beginning of the year with a great deal of trepidation.

It will not be easy.

Let's face it, it will be an extremely stressful situation, to go in every day with a smile pasted on my face, pretending that I have not a care in the world. Just thinking about going back has had me sleepless or with nightmares for weeks now.

Meanwhile, I need to figure out where I go from here.

That's not to say that I don't have ideas, or haven't been thinking about options.

Believe me, I have.

Life, however, must cooperate with my dreams. So this year, I need to be extra sensitive to the opportunities that avail themselves to me, and grab for the golden ring. In fact, one particular opportunity made itself known to me just this week, as if a sign from above. I will be following up on that avenue, rest assured!

I know that I will overcome this bump in the road.

And I know this, because I have the greatest support system in the world, waiting for me at home.

And this is how I will make it through this year.

With a newly remodeled home office space, to make working pleasurable!

And with these smiling faces and warm cuddly bodies to help make the world disappear, if even for a few hours each night.

Our sweet, adorable Miss Scarlett...

And our old man, Monte, who I swear is at least 50% cat himself...

(and our two elder cats, who remain a bit camera shy....Sulu and Lucy).

I will endure. I will survive.

And I will thrive.

Thanks to the ones who've got my back. Oh, and of course, most of all to the best warm cuddly body of all, who can always make me smile.

Hana's Story

2010-08-10T06:00:00.000-07:00

(my sketch of Hana)

This must needs be a multiple part post. It's a bit unnerving to me, to write about Hana, because it is so close to my soul. She is so much a part of me, that it is like exposing myself when I write about her.

But I promised, so here goes.

Hana's story is complex.

I have written here before about my Holocaust dreams, dreams that started when I was a child of only about 4 years old. Over and over again, I dreamt horrible things, images of the atrocities of the Holocaust. When I began to have these dreams, I had no idea what the Holocaust was, or what any of the dreams meant. I only knew they frightened me, and that I felt as if they were not merely dreams, but memories.

But how could they be memories?

As I grew older, I began to understand what I had been experiencing. It was not until I was in my mid-30s, however, that I comprehended their full significance.

I was having dreams from a past life.

The first past life that I fully uncovered was that of Rachel, a Russian Jewish woman, who was killed in a pogrom in Russia in the 1890s. She was married to a man named Yakov, and they had a beautiful daughter, Sarah, who also perished that day in the pogrom, despite Yakov's efforts to save them.

As I began to delve deeper into my past life experiences, I re-discovered Hana.

(The town square at Kazimierz-Dolny)

Hana was a 10 year old little girl, from the town of Kazimierz-Dolny in Poland. This was a quiet market town, about 2 hours outside of Krakow. She had a lovely life before the war, adored her father and was the apple of her mother's eye. They had a small farm and her father sold milk and produce in the town square every week.

One night, as I opened myself up to her memories, a flood of names rushed at me. I believe that her last name was Skibiskova, or something similar. She also was very fond of a man named Pulli Eckstein, from the village, who served a grandfatherly role for her. Her father, Wladek played the violin, and her mother Elsabet was a strong woman with broad shoulders and a huge heart. Her maiden name was Rawkow.

Their life was peaceful and calm, until the Nazis arrived.

Her family was rounded up, along with all the other Jews in the area, and sent to the camp at Maidanek, where Hana would perish in the gas chambers. She was captured by two Ukrainian brothers, Anton and Marko Danilovich, who were aiding the Nazis with the persecution of the Jews.

Once in the transport, Hana was ripped from her parents, and she became frantic to find them again. At the camp, a female Nazi SS guard took Hana roughly by the hand and began to walk her down the Black Path towards the gas chamber. Hana had her red ball in her hand, but dropped it along the way and was worried about finding it again. Inge, the guard, distracted Hana, singing songs and telling stories, and promising that Hana would find her parents once more at the end of the walk.

Instead, Hana found blackness.

Hana would perish, along with about 100 other young women, in a gas chamber at the back of the camp.

The dreams I had, starting with age four, were all various versions of Hana's memories. Most of them revolved around a huge door being shut on me, and my screaming in fear at the guards who were closing them. I also had repeated dreams about dying inside the gas chamber. This is most likely the source for my claustrophobia.

All of these memories came to me, repeatedly, before I made my trips to Poland and to the camps. Once there, especially at Maidanek and at Kazimierz-Dolny, I felt Hana everywhere. These experiences only solidified my conviction that I was Hana. Over and over again, I saw what she saw, felt what she felt, experienced what she experienced. And, ultimately, as I stood on the grounds of Maidanek, I knew when, where, and how she perished.

Her story has come out in bits and pieces, in the form mostly of poetry, which I will share here on this blog. And more of her story will also emerge, as I haltingly begin to let the memories tell themselves here.

Please help me remember Hana, and all the Hanas of the Holocaust, to ensure that such tragedy may be prevented from ever happening again.

Taking Care of the Self

2010-08-09T16:39:00.000-07:00

Lately, my dreams have been out of control.

I usually have vivid, detailed, and often bizarre dreams that are filled with meaning, and I learned long ago to listen to my dreams and what they are telling me.

Lately, though, I'm being overwhelmed by them.

Though the subject of the dreams varies, the underlying meaning does not: my life is out of control.

To the outsider, nothing is noticeable. Life goes on, and I seem calm, collected, and on top of things.

And for the moment, this is true.

But my need for long-term control is driving me nuts. Because, as I've written about here earlier, as of May I will not have a job. And that knowledge is driving me insane.

So much so that I am driven to control the aspects of my life that I can, indeed, control.

For instance, it explains my rabid desire to finish painting this summer before I go back to school. Originally, once I had finished the TV room, guest room, and bath and hallway in the basement, I was going to take a break from painting until at least Christmastime.

But now I have a bee in my bonnet to paint our office. You see, it's the last room I can paint on my own, without hiring someone, in our house. So, now I want it done.

Because it's something I CAN DO and thus I can control the outcome.

It's not fear, really, that is getting me. I have this sense that, ultimately, things will work out and I will be fine and that I will be meant to move in whatever direction comes next.

It's the uncertainty, though. That's what gets me.

I hate not knowing.

I hate not being able to determine my own path.

And my dreams keep reminding me that, in fact, I do not. For instance, the other night, I dreamt that I was in charge of getting a living history display up and running in a neighboring town. I was in a van with several others, driving full tilt down a highway over the mountains, with the doors of the van flung open and us struggling to keep inside. Behind us followed a Canastoga Wagon pulled by 6 horses, and a hitch team of a variety of farm animals (including pigs, goats, cows, and a mule). As we came down the mountain, suddenly it was covered with snow (lots of WHITE imagery in my dream - highly significant) and the wagon lost control and wound up plowing into the bank and flipping over. The animals behind were in danger of being crushed.

The interpretation of this dream is simple: the items in my charge were wildly out of control and there was nothing I could do about it.

So, the question is how I can wrap my brain around this dilemma and move beyond it. Obviously, I have MONTHS to go before I will know where my life will lead me next. How do I ease my troubled mind and let go of this need to control?

I think I am finding the answer, right where it has always been, in the pool. As I swam yesterday, I let myself go and let the water support me, let it take me where I needed to go, and let its energies fill my soul.

The angst is still there, admittedly, but its power is lessened. Hopefully, with more time in the water, I'll become strong enough to let go of the control completely and go where life needs me to be.

How will you take care of yourself today?

Another spiritual visitor

2010-08-03T08:48:00.001-07:00

(my sketch of Elena)

I have been thinking a lot about Hana, since I promised that I would tell her story here.

Hana's story is, in many ways, my own story. You see, I was Hana in a former life.

So her story hits me very very close to home. It is highly emotional to experience and retell it.

So, her story is reluctant to come to physical form.

In the mulling and thinking, however, I opened myself up to the other side. And last night I had another encounter, one that I am able to talk about now.

Last night, I met Elena.

I can always tell when spirits will contact me. I get very restless, and edgy. I feel as if I need to write, but don't know what. And the room gets cold.

Last night, it started with a face in my mind. A woman, probably in her 50s, with long black hair, dark eyes, and strong angular features. Elena's face. Her face was so vivid in my mind that I had to draw her.

I am not an artist. Not by a long shot. Mostly, I draw stick figures and flowers.

But I had to draw Elena. (I have also drawn Hana...but that will wait for her own post).

I drew the sketch and felt something so powerful from it that I had to share it with my friend, who also has psychic abilities.

She, too, was deeply drawn to the image.

Then, I sat back, and opened myself up to see what would come.

The first thing I saw was a small, white-washed cottage nestled in the deep snow. There was a tendril of smoke coming from the chimney, and all was quiet all around.

I could feel the cold and hear the crunch of snow beneath my feet. I smelled the wood smoke coming from the chimney.

I was alone.

I was Elena.

I/She was watching the cottage, closely, and I could feel her sadness. I/She was yearning for something there, inside.

Suddenly, I/she was running, being chased. Tried to run, but fell, tripped on an exposed tree root. I/she cried out, but there was no one there to hear. No one helped her.

And then.... she was .... cold. Gone.

But within that memory lay another one. A memory of Boris. Her man. I saw him carry her into the cottage in her arms, both of them happy and laughing. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and she kissed him as they entered.

Happier times.

Elena had been looking for Boris, hoping he was still at the cottage.

He wasn't.

It was 1917. Russia, outside Minsk, I think.

Elena was killed by Revolutionaries. Boris was in hiding from these same men.

She was searching for him.

Elena didn't realize she was dead. She has been searching for Boris all this time, camped out in front of that little cottage in the snow, getting colder and colder, and waiting for him to return.

I called my encounter last night a "psychic wrong number."

Elena was looking for Boris, but got me instead. I helped her come to understand that she had passed, and so had Boris, and that she needed to let go and accept it.

Some spirits have a hard time with the passing over. They don't quite understand how to do it.

Last night, I helped Elena make the transition.

And hopefully, once she did, she was reunited with Boris again.

Past Life Musings

2010-07-26T11:48:00.001-07:00

I was cleaning this past week, and came across a poem I wrote in June of 2007, after I returned from one of my trips to Poland. As I reread the poem, a flood of memories and emotions flooded over me, and I was awash with psychic sensations that I had managed to "tuck away" for so long. So I figured it was time to write a post about this particular episode, and its significance for me.

I've written here, a little bit, about my past life experiences with Hana, the little girl who died in the gas chamber at Maidanek.

In 2007, I was preparing to go to Poland again, for a conference on the Holocaust. I had been having some Hana dreams, which was to be expected, since I was going to be immersed in the history of the Holocaust on my trip.

What I was not prepared for, however, was a series of OTHER dreams, very vivid and haunting, that would connect me to a different past life.

In these dreams, I was a young man, with fair hair and a light beard, dressed in tights and a tunic, with a sword at my side. I/He was searching desperately in the depths of a castle - A building I knew with all of my heart, but also had never physically seen before. These vivid images came to me repeatedly in the two weeks before my trip.

Staunchly, I put them out of my mind (well, at least I ignored them), and prepared for my trip to the camps. I spent 2 weeks in Poland, in a very emotional, turbulent tour of four of the former Nazi killing centers. I felt Hana over and over again. I was overcome by these Holocaust images and memories.

And yet, it did not stop there. We returned to Krakow, and I had a free day before I was to return home. So, I spent it as a "normal" tourist, and decided to visit Wawel Castle.

THIS I felt I could handle. This was normal history, revolving around power and glory and land. So I walked to the castle from my hotel, and set out to tour it.

Before I even entered the gates, however, I realized that I knew this place. I knew it in a way that was beyond the realm of the everyday. Though I had never physically been to this castle before, and did not know its history, as I walked in the gates, I KNEW it.

Sensations began to overtake me. I heard voices and saw images. I was transported in time and became part of the earlier events.

I found my way to a bench in the courtyard, out of the way, so that I could record these sensations and try to make some sense of them. I made notes in my journal, and sat, still, listening and absorbing, for almost an hour.

Then I got up and walked around the castle. And I came to a tower, and a wall, that hit me like a ton of bricks (sorry, no pun intended there). And I knew that this was the place from my dreams, and suddenly I knew what had transpired in this place.

When I returned home, I penned the following poem, born out of the images I saw at the castle.

Castle Siege, 1267
6-23-07

Amidst chaos and confusion,
My soul struck out,
Searching,
Penetrating the dark bowels of the tower.
Iron keys dangled from my hand,
their metallic taste
Lingering in my mouth
From the moment I clamped them there
To free my hands.
Darkness swallowed the hall,
The doorways blacker holes
in the sea of pitch.
A faint torchlight glowed
in the distance,
And I made my way
to its timid embers.
Voices bellowed,
Men, women, and children cried out,
Bodies rushed in panic on the levels above.
I smelled charred wood and stone,
felt the rush of heat
from the flames that licked
the roof of the cathedral,
sending its tendrils
even down here, below ground,
in all its fury.
The siege is on,
Today men will die in defending our honor,
and I must make my way to you,
My love,
to be reunited,
even if it be in death.

Ringo Starr, Rants, and Raves.....

2010-07-21T08:05:00.000-07:00

Last night we went to see Ringo Starr and his All-Starr Band in Cleveland at the Nautica Pavilion.

The music was AWESOME.

Ringo just turned 70 years old this year. SEVENTY. On stage, he looked FORTY. He was beyond amazing.

He played most of my favorite Ringo tunes (including Honey Don't - my all-time favorite Ringo song!) And I had a great time with the music.

His All-Starr Band is made up of names from other hit groups, and each player gets a feature to do his own stuff. I was pleasantly surprised by these others (we didn't know who they were til we got there).

The band included Rick Derringer (the McCoys), Wally Palmar (The Romantics), Edgar Winter (White Trash), Gary Wright (known for "Dream Weaver"), Richard Page (Mr. Mister), and Gregg Bissonette.

They played, among many other songs, "Hang on, Sloopy," "Kyrie," "Dream Weaver," and of course "I Get By With a Little Help from my Friends."

As I mentioned above, the music was IM-PRESSIVE. Song after song, they had us all singing along, clapping our hands, and loving every minute of it.

(Dave and me outside the Pavilion before the concert)

(My husband, Dave, however, ever the ultimate Beatles fan, said "Not enough Ringo songs." LOL)

It was a great celebration of music. So much for my rave.

Now on to my rant.

I HATED Nautica Pavilion.

It's not really that large a venue, so you would think it would not be hard to manage. I guess Cleveland doesn't have much experience there. (You'd think they would, being the home of the Rock and Roll museum....) Although, we have been to several concerts at the Wolstein Center and at the Quicken Loans Arena, and they were handled BEAUTIFULLY!

The staff seemed to have absolutely no clue about their own arena. Three different ushers stood at the BOTTOM of the bleachers and told us "your seats are up there, on the right." (they were actually to the left) I watched ushers over and over ask "what seat are you sitting in?" They were totally clueless.

This meant that many people wound up sitting in the wrong seats, in a sell-out crowd, and so they would have to move when the real ticket-holders got there. The bleachers are so narrow that it is virtually impossible to simply stand up to let people pass by. It was a comedy of errors, truly.

And the bleacher seats were so small, I was sitting with my arms hunched in my lap all night. Hard to move to the music when you're that close together. And the music made me want to MOVE. How can you not move when you listen to these songs?

We also bought bottled soft drinks during the show, and were told that they could not give us the bottle caps. I thought this was particularly odd, and had wanted a bottle versus a cup so that I could reseal it and be sure not to spill any during the concert.

So I asked WHY she couldn't give us the bottle caps. Her reply? "So you can't throw the bottle caps on the stage during the show." WHAT? What kind of crazy-ass concerts do they have at this venue that people throw bottle caps at the stage? Now, I admit, my concert attendance is limited, and I have been to far more classical concerts than pop or rock ones, but still. Has our society degraded THAT far that we show our appreciation for artists by pelting them with plastic? I was appalled.

So, in summary, last night was a mixed bag. I absolutely LOVED the music, but HATED the venue. I guess it's a good lesson for us for the future. And if you're thinking about buying tickets for a concert at the Nautica, let this serve as fair warning to you!

But hey, I can only hope I look HALF as good at 70 as Ringo Starr does.

Rock on, Ringo!

The Lessons of Las Vegas and LOVE

2010-07-09T11:54:00.000-07:00

We just returned from a short trip to Las Vegas.

Let me start by saying I never thought I'd like it. I hate crowds and noise, I'm not great in heat, and I find gambling boring.

What was I going to do in Vegas? For four and a half days? In temperatures soaring well about 100 degrees Fahrenheit?

But this was our anniversary trip, and we were going to Vegas, specifically, to see the Cirque du Soleil LOVE show, based on the music of the Beatles. My husband, Dave, is probably the biggest Beatles fan who ever took a breath. (you think I'm kidding...) So, I pinned on a huge smile, said "That sounds great, honey!" and away we went.

Meanwhile, I was searching for other things to do while we were there. Things that didn't involve the glitz and glamour of the strip.

And I found myself actually enjoying our trip to the land of Sex, Sin, and Vice. The city that never sleeps (though we did, quite a bit).

The best part of our trip was, beyond a doubt, the LOVE show, which was BEYOND amazing. We had had a number of people tell us it was great and that we had to see it. So I was expecting great music (hello? The BEATLES? Could it be bad?) and maybe some cool artistic tricks along the way.

I was in no way prepared for the experience we had.

I was.... utterly speechless.

And for me, who prides herself on being able to choose just the right words, being speechless is a rareity.

From the first moment the lights dimmed and the action began, my jaw dropped and stayed that way until about 2/3 of the way through the show. I finally had to close it so I could recover.

Tears formed in my eyes, and were there until the finale.

I had no idea which way to look at any given moment. I was overcome by the emotion and beauty of the work. I was simply awestruck by the abilities and fluidity of the players in the show. To call them "dancers" or mere "acrobats" does not do them justice in any sense of the word. They moved their bodies like no one I have ever seen before. It was beautiful, and was expertly choreographed to the songs of the Beatles.

The most beautifully choreographed piece was "Octopus' Garden," during which they had about a dozen different acrobats and puppets flying through the air, as if they were floating through the depths of the ocean. It was breathtaking.

The show as a whole served as a sort of chronicle of the Liverpool Boys who would become the Beatles. It highlighted their rise to fame, and showcased the most famous characters from their songs. Both highs and lows in their lives were represented, perhaps the most poignant moment being the death of Lennon's mother, to the tune "Hey, Jude."

We laughed, we cried, we were embraced by the work.

We had not known what to expect when we saw the show, but we walked out of the theater with our hearts blown wide open and ready to get back in line to see the second show. That experience will stay with us for a long, long time to come.

Of course, it was made more special because it was our anniversary celebration, too. We were all dressed up, and had excellent seats. And halfway through the show, the cast came out into the audience, and one of them stopped in front of me, took my hand, called me "beautiful lady with the beautiful smile" and kissed my hand. Now THAT was amazing!

The show was well worth fighting the crowds, noise, and decadence of Vegas. I would even go back to Vegas, just to see LOVE a second time.

The immortal words of the Beatles were certainly true for us, in regards to our Vegas trip.... "all you need is LOVE, LOVE, LOVE is all you need." For us, to make it a perfect trip, all we needed were those perfect seats to the perfect show, LOVE.

Cycles and Reflections

2010-06-21T08:06:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking a great deal about cycles lately.

Life cycles, of birth and death.

Seasonal cycles, especially today on the Summer Solstice.

Monthly cycles like those of the moon, or our own personal cycles.

I've been musing of late over what they all mean to us, in the bigger picture.

Some cycles are more difficult to take than others. Death, for example, often strikes us very hard at our core. We mourn the physical loss of our loved ones, and regret their absence in our daily lives. It is often difficult to remember that they live on in spirit and in our hearts, when we have had the privilege to experience their three-dimensional presence in our lives.

Other cyclical changes remind us of our passing through the greater life cycle, and hint at our inevitable demise at the end of our own cycles. The aging process is not always subtle nor kind. Yet, in these cyclical changes we also should remember that there is wisdom and honor with each new phase.

Of course, we most often glory in the beginnings of cycles: birth, spring, the starting anew. We should remember, however, that there can be no beginning without ending. The cycle can continue only because it ends and is renewed.

Our lives are a continual pattern of cycles, of ups and downs, of heights and depths, through which we traverse and make our way through this world. And it is the combination of these highs and lows, beginnings and endings, that make our lives so glorious.

For each cycle that passes, a new one begins, and with that new cycle comes new wonderment, new knowledge, and new experiences. All of which would not be possible without the passing of the former cycle.

So, today, on this Summer Solstice, let us say goodbye to Spring and thank her for all she gave us, while also welcoming the new season into our lives, in anticipation for all she will share with us over the coming months.

And remember, cycles are what keep us going. Even the life and death cycle. If we embrace the natural flow of life, including her cycles, we will be rewarded with rich and wonderful experiences that will fill our souls.

The power of water....

2010-06-16T06:25:00.000-07:00

(the beach on Marco Island, after a storm, with the waves a bit wilder than normal)

I have written here and here on this blog about the fact that my element is water, and that it is a pretty powerful tool for me in tuning into my own personal energies.

Today's post, though, goes beyond the power of water as my personal element, and addresses the greater power of water, and nature in general.

I have long agreed with the Romantic poets and artists, who sought to teach us that we should be in harmony with, not in control of, nature's forces. It is the fool who thinks that he can take on Nature's fury and win.

I'm being reminded of that lesson yet again, as we are in our third week of efforts to fix a leak in our basement. Turns out, it is ground water, seeping in through the foundation wall. Well, seeping is a misnomer, because when it rains, the water pours in like a siphon.

We have no idea what the real source of the groundwater is. The topsoil source could be a half mile away somewhere. We'll never know.

So we are reduced to fixing the leak INSIDE the house.

But this post isn't about our construction issues. It's about the power of water.

Water will always find the path of least resistance, and water is one of the most ferocious damaging hands of Mother Nature.

Just think about the recent headlines: Flash floods tore through a campground, killing at least 18 and wounding dozens others. Tropical storms and hurricanes in Latin America left huge sinkholes in their wake. And even the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico (a huge political black hole that I do not wish to address at the moment) is being exacerbated by the forces of the tides and streams of the water itself.

Let us not be fooled. No matter how calm and placid the water may appear on those calm, sunny days, it always holds the power to destroy. IF we do not respect it.

Therein lies the true beauty of nature. To be held delicately in her hand, caressed by the sun and gentle winds, or even to be tickled by gentle waves at the shores of her waters, while knowing that at any moment she could destroy us with a gentle flick of her wrist - THIS is the tantalizing allure of Nature.

And that, truly, is the source of water's power for me personally. To know that even as it washes over me and purifies and invigorates me, it could also snuff out my energy altogether, leaves me exhilarated. It creates in me the deepest sense of respect, and leads to heightened awareness, not just of the water but of the world around me.

What will you respect today?

Renovations and Restorations

2010-06-07T06:50:00.000-07:00

We had a water leak here at the condo, and as a result, we are doing some renovation work in our basement entertainment room. While the leak and the damage were frustrating, I'm finding it invigorating to do the renovation. The hard stuff (dry wall, pouring a concrete pad upstairs) we contracted out, but I'm doing the painting of the room myself.

Yesterday, I finished the first wall. That was the hardest wall, painting around lots of shelves and edges and small spots. It took me about 3 hours to do that single wall.

Of course, I got (unwanted) input about the process from all sides, telling me the "best" way to approach the task.

But as I made progress along the wall, and saw the new, clean shine of the paint appear (it's essentially the same color as the old paint), I felt a huge sense of satisfaction.

Sometimes, we need to renovate.

As I wrote about here, we do periodically need to clean house, figuratively and literally.

We need to mend the broken pieces, deep clean the carpeting, touch up the paint job, top it off with new throw pillows and an area rug.

And when we have finished that project, we can rejoice in the clean, crisp results that make us smile and feel joy.

(This was the Renova Spa at our resort in Jamaica, where we went for our honeymoon last year)

And just as we need to do periodic physical renovations of our surroundings, sometimes we need to do some personal renovations as well.

The Spa, I believe, was aptly named. RENOVA. A place to renovate the self.

And I have been doing this type of renovations lately, as well. I returned to swimming, after a long hiatus, and found it to be completely rejuvenating and restorative.

I trimmed the anxieties and stress from my life, making some conscious decisions about just where and how I would be exerting my (admittedly limited) energies.

I have begun to revel in the many, many blessings that surround me on a daily basis.

I have rebuilt the house of myself, brick by brick, new paint job (in my brightly painted nails, that I talked about here), new exercise program, new attitude, and overall new sense of joy and happiness.

Life is good, oh so good, once you take the time to do the renovations.

How will you renovate this week?

Our elemental needs ...

2010-06-03T09:16:00.001-07:00

Each of us is composed of four essential elements: water, fire, earth, and air. Our astrological signs also determine our primary and secondary elements. For instance, as Pisces, I have water as my primary element, and air as my secondary element. Earth and fire fall to positions of lesser importance for my entity.

My husband, Dave, on the other hand, a Scorpio, is an Earth element, followed by water. That's why my totem is a frog (water and air) and Dave's is a turtle (earth and water).

Although I have understood the concept of our primary and secondary elements for some time now, and always knew that I loved water, for example, it was not until very recently that I realized just how fundamental these elemental needs are to our very existence and our internal balance.

I wrote here about my rediscovery of swimming as a form of exercise, after a frustrating experience with Yogadance. As I mentioned in that blog, when I began the Yogadance class I was excited and energized at the thought of getting moving again. I thought it would be good for me. And yet, as the months passed, it was taking a toll on my body. And I couldn't figure out why. I figured, exercise was exercise. It had to be good for me!

And then the light went on.

Yogadance was not working for me, because it is an EARTH-based form of exercise. EARTH.

I need WATER.

I need to feel as if I am floating through life, immersed in its life-giving fluids, propelling me on. I am the dolphin, kicking and playing through the waters of life, frolicking in the depths and then bursting through the surface to take on air and submerge once more.

That is why earth-bound forms of exercise don't work for me. Aerobics, YogaDance, the treadmill, all seem to have me dragging my feet, as if mired in the mud. For after all, what happens when you add water to earth? You get mud.

And while mud can be useful for some ventures - for creating foundation bricks for example, which is why Dave and I work so well together - it does not suit exercise or vitality.

The air element is best suited for outdoor activities, especially those that get off the ground. They get into rock climbing, bungee jumping, sky diving, anything that gets AIR into their lungs and all around them. They are the thrill seekers.

The poor fire elements have it most difficult. There are very few forms of exercise that entail fire. Firewalking? This is most challenging for those of fire. My closest friend is a fire element, and she would concur. They have to stoke their fires in other, less direct ways.

For me, as a water element, the water not only sustains my body, but it clarifies my mind. When I swim, I find a new acuity that opens me wide to the world around me. It's as if a blindfold is removed, that had filtered out all but a tiny stream of light in my daily life.

So, this frog will continue her water-based exercise patterns, healing and rejuvenating all the way.

And she will leave the earth-bound forms to those who are better suited to them. Oh, and if you earthies out there what to try my pool, be sure you don't leave any mud behind!

A baptism, or I FINALLY listened to myself instead of everyone else giving me advice

2010-05-27T08:52:00.000-07:00

This morning, I experienced what I might call a baptism in my new approach to life. Big changes have been coming for a while now, and I knew they were going to happen, I just didn't know when.

The other day, I took the leap and began to make those important changes.

I wrote here about my love of the water and how it purifies me, beyond the physical exercise of it. I vowed then, back in March, that I would return to swimming.

Yet, when I returned to the "real world," somehow that vow slipped away from me. I got distracted.

In January, I started taking a Yogadance class, mainly because it was being taught by a friend as a new venture, and I wanted to support her, and I thought it would be good to move. And I stuck with that class for months.

I thought is was good for me. The music was fun. I was exercising. How can that be bad?

But gradually my back, knees, and ankles were becoming worse. My arthritis was kicking up. I was in constant pain. I came home from every class exhausted and wanting only to sleep. My mind shut down. Yet, like a robot, I kept going to class.

Now, please, understand. I am not saying that Yogadance is no good. Far from it. Everyone has different needs. And watching the other women in that room, I know that it was good for some of them.

It just isn't good for me.

And this morning, for the first time in nine months, I returned to the Y to swim.

It was beyond amazing.

After a nine month hiatus from swimming, I plunged in and swam thirty laps. THIRTY. That is what I was doing when I was in my peak swimming routine a couple of years ago.

And when I emerged from the water, my brain was on fire with electricity, and my back and joints felt better than they have in years.

I have come home.

Home to my beautiful, life-giving water.

And I plan to return to those waters regularly, probably four times a week all summer long, to drink from their spring of energy, and replenish all that life saps away.

I am reborn.

Taking stock and cleaning house

2010-05-26T06:53:00.000-07:00

(this is the view from our deck)

Yesterday, I spent several hours sitting on our deck, reading and doing a lot of thinking about things in general. I was taking stock of my life and what I needed versus what I was getting and doing.

And I realized that my life was cluttered, and was demanding way too much energy for non-essential things.

So, I decided to clean house.

Both literally (I cleaned the windows so they sparkled!) and figuratively.

I decided I needed to cut loose some of the things that have been sapping my energy and wrapping me up in unnecessary drama, and to re-order my life so that I was focusing my energy more wisely.

This is something that has been building, and coming for some time now. I wrote about it here, when I talked about de-choring my life and re-treating it. I realized that I was letting obligations get in the way of my own health. And I was so involved in listening to other people that I lost sight of what I was telling myself.

I made some conscious decisions yesterday about exactly what I needed to cut out or reduce in my life, and what I needed to retain. And I felled the axe. More cuts are coming, eventually. And some additions, to be sure. Healthy additions.

And tomorrow, I am starting my swim routine again.

I know, I know. I've been saying this for months.

But this time, I have made the necessary changes that will let that happen. My swim bag is packed and ready for me! And I need the water.

After all, I'm a fish!

And I need a new routine. One that is geared to my own personal schedule, and not tied to those around me.

So, today marks the beginning of a new era. A fresh start. A clean house, both inside and out.

Just in time. And we have a great, fun, and exciting weekend planned!

What will you do to clean house this week?

Midnight Musings ... a poem of sorts

2010-05-25T06:58:00.000-07:00

Midnight Musings
5-24-10

Deep into the night,
my thoughts went racing,
venturing in directions too dangerous for the light of day.
The symbols of my dreams
danced through my waking mind,
playing games as I tried to decipher their cryptic meanings.

Past, present, and future merged,
as the mist descended upon my mind,
enfolding me with
its dark, damp tendrils,
pulling me deeper and deeper
into the almost trancelike investigation of its turnings.

My breath slowed and grew heavy,
and my senses began to detect things from other realms.
A cat’s plaintive meow, the ringing of a telephone,
the shadow of a man.
All of these images came together urgently,
trying to reveal some great truth to my stubborn and resistant mind.

It lay just beyond my grasp,
tormenting me,
teasing me with the promise of some incredible reality
that remained just out of touch.
The intensity of the thought brought a pounding to my head,
and an aching to my face and jaw.

It was almost as if the images
were beating me upon the head
to try to draw my attention to something
powerful and marvelous,
that they believed should be painfully obvious,
yet remained cloaked in mystery.

And so I finally gave in to restless sleep, full of dreams now forgotten,
and tortured with symbolism that remained locked.
As I lay in the bed the morning after, pondering the events of the night before,
I feel like a codebreaker, listening in on the enemy’s communications,
just waiting for that moment when it would all be revealed. And the tap, tap, tapping goes on in my head, constantly poking at me, reminding me not to forget that it is there.

Letting go....

2010-05-24T13:22:00.000-07:00

Let me preface this by saying that today's blog post is all about me. If other people can take something away from it, then that would be wonderful, but this post is truly just about my own reflectiveness at this point.

Ok, caveat laid out.

If you have been following my blog, then you know that it has been a rather difficult year for me. I have been struggling to find direction and meaning in the wake of those rather unsettling events.

I have turned to to Osho Zen Meditation Tarot deck, among other sources, to find guidance.

My dreams have been deep, vivid, and frought with symbolism.

I have asked for advice from friends and loved ones.

And I keep coming back to one phrase: Let it go.

For we can not control what happens to us, but we can control how we react.

Let me repeat that.

We can not control what happens to us, but we can control how we react.

The universe, it seems, has a rather wicked and twisted sense of humor. It often throws curves at us that we do not expect.

Some of them are quite unintentioned, to be sure.

Others, more premeditated.

But the results are the same. They leave us feeling betrayed, beaten, exposed, robbed.

I spent the weekend doing a lot of very deep thinking. So deep, in fact, it made my brain hurt.

And I realized that it is time to let go of all of the crap that I have been letting get to me.

Job crap.

Personal crap.

Even world crap.

And I am determined to focus on being the best person I can be, doing what I believe to be right and good, while holding onto my own standards. I never set out to undermine anyone or to harm them. In fact, the truth is quite the opposite.

Sure, other people may get in my way. They may try to steal my thunder. They may misinterpret my intentions or my responses. They may even think I'm wrong.

But that's ok.

Because I'm letting it go.

Something bigger, better, and wonderful is out there, just waiting for me. I know that. I just have to let all this baggage go that is weighing me down, and I'll reach it.

Then, I can fly. Like I used to do on the swings at the playground, when I let go of the chains as I reached the peak of the swing arc.

Let go with me, and let's fly together.

More Holocaust poetry

2010-05-23T10:30:00.000-07:00

(This image is of the entry gates at the camp at Dachau, outside of Munich, Germany)

The end of May always evokes memories for me, memories of my trips to the various concentration and death camps used by the Nazis in their plan to eradicate all non-Aryans in their domain.

I have written about some of my experiences at these camps, here, here, and here, and I suggested that these were very powerful, almost overwhelming, encounters with not just the physical reminders of the horrors, but the spiritual remains of the victims as well.

These intense interactions at the various camps left indelible marks on my soul, and impelled me to share them with others, through poetry and images.

In particular, one visit, to Dachau in May 2008, was full of psychic engagement. I spent my time walking the camp. Almost immediately, I was channeling things.

The first thing I heard was loud shouting, crying "Schnell! Schnell!" over and over again.

I also heard moaning and crying and the sounds of soup bowls.

A little later on my walk, I felt someone ill, with dysentery or pneumonia perhaps, shivering beneath a thin blanket, too weak to do more than just moan softly.

I also kept hearing the rhythmic crunching of the shoes on gravel - the repetitive, uniform sound of marching.

And I picked up two stones from the ground, which oddly enough refused to warm up in my hands. They were cold, like the death they represented.

These stones, which I keep in a bowl next to my desk, remain cold, even today, even on the warmest of summer days. They are tainted with the powers of death and destruction. They carry that stamp with them.

After this most powerful trip, I wrote the following two poems, both of which capture at least part of what I experienced that day.

They are dedicated to those who perished at the hands of the Nazis, under the guise of creating a "better world."

(Memorial at the camp at Dachau, an image of twisted bodies, trapped in barbed wire)

A Faustian Bargain

The muselman emerges
as artistic muse,
the product of Nazis,
the collection of dues.

From skeletal frames
their life's blood will ooze
as for diabolical aims
their demons abuse.

(These are my Dachau stones, picked up there in May 2008)

Dachau, May 2008

A pair of weathered stones,
cold as death,
freeze their imprint
upon my palm.

The crunch of gravelled steps,
rhythmic, sharp,
cut their way deep
into my calm.

Voices from the tortured past,
echo loud,
resonating deeply
within my head.

Visions of suffering and pain
flicker on,
projecting facelessly
the fates of the dead.

TRUST: Today's Osho Lesson

2010-05-22T14:04:00.000-07:00

Today was one of the graduation ceremonies for our students. It was rainy and miserable. And we had to process through the rain.

As I stood there, umbrella in hand, watching it pour and waiting to venture forth into the deluge, I thought about how appropriate it was.

You see, this could very well be the last graduation I attend as a faculty member.

And I thought, "Life is spitting on me."

And I worried that the rain would ruin my academic regalia - not an inexpensive set, I might add. And the next instant I thought, "So what? When will I wear it again? And isn't this a fitting end?"

I was, quite obviously, feeling sorry for myself.

I was being Whiny. Self-centered. And I was most definitely Stuck.

And then we walked through the downpour across campus and took our places for the ceremony, and my attention shifted to those wonderful, miraculous people who had worked hard, sacrificed, and persevered to earn their degrees today.

Several, in particular, made me a bit teary.

The single mother of two, including a special needs daughter, who scrimped and saved to go to school full time, while also raising her children and volunteering, in order to make a better life for her family.

The visually impaired student, who wore more honor cords than I knew existed, and who EVERYONE in the school know because of his academic skills as well as his strong sense of spirit and direction.

And the nun from Africa, soft spoken, demure, devoted, who worked diligently and produced excellent work in all her coursework, not for the high grades she earned, but for the knowledge it gave her.

And I felt proud that I could be some small part of each of their journeys. And it made me feel just a bit guilty about my own selfish attitude earlier.

Then I came home, through the rain, still thinking about those students, and my own life, and I drew a single Osho card to meditate.

It was the TRUST card.

Here's the accompanying text. It reads:

"Now is the moment to be a bungee jumper without the cord! And it is the quality of absolute trust, with no reservations or secret safety nets, that the Knight of Water demands from us. There is a tremendous sense of exhilaration if we can take the jump and move into the unknown, even if the idea scares us to death. And when we take trust to the level of the quantum leap, we don't make any elaborate plans or preparations. We don't say, "Okay, I trust that I know what to do now, and I'll settle my things and pack my suitcase and take it with me." No, we just jump, with hardly a thought for what happens next. The leap is the thing, and the thrill of it as we free-fall through the empty sky. The card gives a hint here, though, about what waits for us at the other end -- a soft, welcoming, yummy pink, rose petals, juicy...c'mon!"

What an amazing lesson for today, graduation day. For this is not just graduation day for the students, who are leaving their alma mater behind; it is also graduation day for me, as I let go of the difficulties that have plagued me this year and embrace fully whatever is to come.

And as I drew this card, and began to contemplate its meaning for me, the sky has cleared, revealing sunshine for the first time today.

I guess the universe is trying to get my attention.

I'd better take heed.

Re-treating into the ordinary

2010-05-19T17:07:00.000-07:00

I wrote here about my need to find ways to refocus my life, to de-chore and re-treat it in small ways. Today the weather was beautiful, after a string of not so nice (at times ugly) Spring weather, so this afternoon I decided to take advantage of it and do some things outdoors.

First, I spent time weeding and cleaning up our rock garden off our lower patio. It was full of weeds - a job that really is for our yard crew to do, but which has not been done conscientiously in recent years. So, I lovingly pulled out the weeds and tended our lilies and other plants under the gaze of the afternoon sun.

It felt good to put on my gloves and dig in the rocks and dirt.

I worked slowly, methodically, with no deadline or pressure to hurry me.

And I quit when my back began to ache.

And I looked at the results of my efforts, and took pride in the beauty I had created.

Then, I picked up my book (the novel Mysterious Island, by Jules Verne) and headed up to our deck, and spent an indulgent hour reading in the sun. I sat with the rays beating on my back, penetrating the black of my t-shirt, and heating the very core of my being.

I could feel the sun recharging me. Earth and Fire had both lent me their power.

It was quiet, peaceful, and I sat listening to the chatter of the sparrows and the occasional bark of a dog or the engine of a passing car. The world was mine and mine alone for that hour.

Today was a day of ordinariness. I did nothing fantastic, nothing remarkable. I just was.

It was good.

And then, tonight, I drew a card from my beautiful Osho Zen Tarot Meditation deck. Now, recently, I have written about how amazing this deck is, and how absolutely spot-on it has been every time I have turned to it.

So, I should not have been surprised tonight.

I drew the Ordinariness card.

Here's the accompanying description:

"This figure walking in nature shows us that beauty can be found in the simple, ordinary things of life. We so easily take this beautiful world we live in for granted. Cleaning the house, tending the garden, cooking a meal - the most mundane tasks take on a sacred quality when they are performed with your total involvement, with love, and for their own sake, without thought of recognition or reward. You are facing a time now when this easy, natural and utterly ordinary approach to the situations you encounter will bring far better results than any attempt on your part to be brilliant, clever, or otherwise extra-ordinary. Forget all about making headlines by inventing the latest widget, or dazzling your friends and colleagues with your unique star quality. The special gift you have to offer now is presented best by just taking things easily and simply, one step at a time."

Wow.

I had to stop and think about this description for a bit.

I thought about how I have struggled so desperately with the book writing project this Spring, striving to produce something dazzling to show my colleagues, and not having great success.

I thought about my efforts to prove to people that I deserve better than the treatment I received this year at the hands of my institution.

I thought about how hard it has been to envision a future path that does not include teaching.

But this card has reminded me, as the other recent cards have, that it is time to change my perceptions.

It is time to be patient and ordinary.

It is time to tend my gardens, both figuratively and literally.

And in doing so, my true self will emerge, stronger, better, and brighter.

Another Holocaust Poem

2010-05-19T08:09:00.000-07:00

This morning, I got up and was feeling pretty good, despite everything. I had some physical aches and pains, but I was facing them pretty optimistically. My mood was not bad, all things considered.

I came into school, determined to be productive and positive.

And then, while I sat at my desk, a tremendous BLACK wave descended upon me, almost smothering me in its intensity. I felt isolated, hopeless, devastated.

And I took a deep breath and asked who I was feeling.

Because it wasn't me.

Not today.

I felt a tremendous need to overcome this wave of darkness. So I pulled out the only available music in my office, which happened to be a cd of Piano Klezmer Music by Leslaw Lic.

And I popped in the cd, and began to listen. I focused on the notes, trying to push aside the black blanket that smothered me.

And I opened Word, and began to write.

Here is what emerged. It's pretty obvious that the sensations I was feeling were from a Holocaust victim.

So, here's my tribute to her.

Our last refrain
5-19-10

Where has the past gone?
Who has stolen it away?
When our lives were free and gay?
What have we done wrong?

Once we were carefree
Living our lives in peace
In an instant, that would cease
And we would have to flee.

The bark of dogs and guns
Chasing us into the woods
Blindly tearing at our goods
Not knowing who it was who runs.

Far from the home I love,
Our belongings cast aside
With nowhere here to hide
Behind, below, or above.

Even as I flee in fear
Fragments of that song remain
The haunting last refrain
Lingering in my ear.

Reminders, Retreats, and Reaffirmations

2010-05-17T10:42:00.000-07:00

I have been writing lately about trying to figure out where I'm headed, and what I need to do to get there. I have been so focused on the material side (ie: getting a new job), that I have tended to neglect the more basic, psychological and spiritual side of my path.

A good friend of mine has been trying to do an at-home "retreat" lately, as she wrote about here. That gave me pause for thought.

A retreat.

What does that mean, exactly? From what or to what should I be withdrawing? What would be the purpose of such a thing?

And then I approached the word again. Not a "retreat", but a "re-treat." As in, treating myself. As in doing something just for me, not for anyone else. This is a very novel and difficult idea for me, I must say.

And I realized that even the things that I THOUGHT I was doing for myself, have actually become about other people somewhere along the way.

I tend to do that, unfortunately. I lose myself in giving to others, or taking care of them, or doing things to help them. And along the way, I stop paying attention to me.

So this weekend, I decided to do something about that.

I took a "re-treat."

On Saturday, I took a long, decadent nap with my husband and pets, neglecting the long list of chores and activities that I SHOULD have been doing. Saturday night, we went out for pizza and wings, and I ate until I felt I would burst. And I enjoyed every bite.

I picked up a novel and started reading just because I wanted to do it. I am reading Jules Verne's Mysterious Island - a wonderful tale, full of mystery and adventure.

And yesterday, I painted my nails, for the first time in almost a YEAR. I took my time, first filing and smoothing them, and carefully choosing a color (from the bag of about 40 bottles that I own), and then painting not just my toe nails (it is sandals time, after all) but also my fingernails.

Now THIS I see as truly decadent, since polish lasts less than a week on my hands before I have it chipped and messy. But that hour (or less, I wasn't counting) that I spent on myself yesterday had a marvelous effect. It made me feel pampered, beautiful, and important.

And I realized that my life has become a long list of chores that I perform for other people. Some chores are more enjoyable that others, of course, like the chore of feeding my husband (I love to cook), but they are chores none the less. They are expected and routine actions that I am forced to perform on a regular basis.

And I made a conscious decision to de-chore and re-treat my life. Starting with a long snuggle on the (unmade) bed with my kitten and puppy.

Oh, and the painted nails? I think they're staying.....

Finding the answers within

2010-05-14T12:05:00.000-07:00

I have become quite entranced with my new Osho Zen Meditation Tarot deck, as you might have gathered from my recent posts. I have long loved the traditional tarot as a form of meditation and insight, and when I needed a little guidance I often would pull out my Lovers' Deck and ask questions of it, reading various spreads or just meditating with a single card.

But this new deck?

It is uncanny.

It has not yet failed to provide me with the perfect response for my query.

This week I have been trying to find balance in my life, looking for the path that I need to take. I have been feeling, as I have written about here, a little lost and directionless lately.

So, again, I turned to my Osho deck last night, thinking of all the elements in my life right now, wondering what I need to be doing.

And the deck's response? GUIDANCE.

This was the card that I pulled. And the image on the card had a particularly strong impact on me. It was uncannily similar to the spirit drawing I had done for me by a medium at Lilydale, several years ago. I had gone there, in search of some guidance for the future.

Here is the accompanying commentary for that particular card:

"The angelic figure with rainbow-colored wing on this card represents the guide that each of us carries within. Like the second figure in the background, we may sometimes be a little reluctant to trust this guide when it comes to us, because we are so accustomed to taking our cues from the outside rather than from the inside. The truth of your own deepest being is trying to show you where to go right now, and when this card appears it means you can trust the inner guidance you are being given. It speaks in whispers, and sometimes we can hesitate, not knowing if we have understood rightly. But the indications are clear: in following the inner guide you will feel more whole, more integrated, as if you are moving outwards from the very center of your being. If you go with it, this beam of light will carry you exactly where you need to go."

These words were like a beacon to me, reminding me of that part of myself that I have been ignoring or neglecting for so long now.

I have been focused for some time on my WANTS, on the material self, on the things that surround us, rather than that which lies within. I realized last night, as I meditated with the Osho deck, that I need to concentrate on my NEEDS.

Of course, that means I need to figure out what they are.

And I mean beyond my physical needs. We all have the basic physical requirements: food, shelter, sleep, love.

Beyond that, however, we each have our own set of psychological, spiritual, and mental needs that make us into the complete beings that we are. And I think - no, I know - that I have been neglecting my whole self of late.

So, the appearance of the Guidance Card last night reminded me that I need to pay better attention to me.

I have always been a caregiver, and I frequently get so wrapped up in the needs and desires of others that I leave my own by the wayside.

Now is the time to remember ME.

And as I do that, as I begin to satisfy the inner needs of my soul, I will be much better able to continue my role as caregiver and empath for those around me.

So, here's to me.

Another Osho Zen Lesson: Patience.

2010-05-11T14:36:00.000-07:00

Today was a horrible weather day. It was cold, windy, rainy, and simply miserable. And I gave into my need to cocoon myself in the house. I stayed home, I did laundry, I cleaned, and I nourished my soul and mind with reading, nestled on the sofa with the dog and the kitten.

It was one of those days that I desperately needed to do something other than "real work." Every time I tried to open my writing, I got frustrated. I was getting nothing done.

Oh, and did I mention we lost power for a bit today, too?

I was feeling ungrounded, listless, directionless today. I felt as if there were a million things I should be doing, but just did not know how to begin any of them.

So, again, I turned to my Osho deck.

And again, of course, it told me just what I needed to hear.

Today's card was "Patience."

Here's what the commentary says about this card:

"There are times when the only thing to do is wait. The seed has been planted, the child is growing in the womb, the oyster is coating the grain of sand and making it into a pearl. This card reminds us that now is a time when all that is required is to be simply alert, patient, waiting. The woman pictured here is in just such an attitude. Contented, with no trace of anxiety, she is simply waiting. Through all the phases of the moon passing overhead she remains patient, so in tune with the rhythms of the moon that she has almost become one with it. She knows it is a time to be passive, letting nature take its course. But she is neither sleepy nor indifferent; she knows it is time to be ready for something momentous. It is a time full of mystery, like the hours just before the dawn. It is a time when the only thing to do is wait."

As I read that description, I kept thinking "yes!" It reminded me of the earlier post I wrote, here, where I talked about the beauty of the pearl.

It also reminded me that I have been full of just such a powerful "somethingness" lately. I have had this feeling that I am on the verge of exploding into something beyond words.

Patience has never come easily for me. It's part of the Pisces being. We move quickly, decisively, impulsively at times.

But now, I see, very clearly, that it is time to be patient.

To wait for what the world will bring me.

That is not to say that I expect that the path will not require work.

I know, whatever comes next, will be a challenging path. But I also believe that, if I am truly patient, the way will make itself known to me. I just have to open myself up and be ready for it to appear.

And the results, I believe, will be truly miraculous.

Part of the Answer I Seek.....

2010-05-06T13:06:00.000-07:00

So, right after I posted my last entry here, about feeling stuck and paralyzed, I decided to turn to the Osho deck once more, and give it one more try.

Interesting, how it works.

As I shuffled the cards, I said to the deck, "Ok, I know what's wrong - I know I'm stuck. But tell me how to get UNstuck. What do I do NEXT?"

And I felt the energy pulsing through the cards. Felt the rhythms in them. Felt my hands absorbing it.

And I drew a single card, and turned it over.

Guilt.

It was the Guilt card.

And here's the accompanying commentary for this card. It says:

"Guilt is one of the most destructive emotions in which we can get caught. If we have wronged another, or gone against our own truth, then of course we will feel bad. But to let ourselves be overwhelmed with guilt is to invite a migraine."

WHAT? "invite a migraine?" DUH.

It goes on...

"We end up surrounded by nagging clouds of self-doubt and feelings of worthlessness to the point where we cannot see any of the beauty and joy that life is trying to offer us. We all long to be better people - more loving, more aware, more true to ourselves. But when we punish ourselves for our failures by feeling guilty, we can get locked into a cycle of despair and hopelessness that robs us of all clarity about ourselves and the situations we encounter. You are absolutely okay as you are, and it is absolutely natural to go astray from time to time. Just learn from it, move on, and use the lesson not to make the same mistake again."

Wow.

The commentary goes on to state:

"How can you enjoy life if you are continuously feeling guilty?...It becomes impossible to delight in life. You become heavy, loaded. Guilt sits on your chest like a rock, it crushes you; it does not allow you to dance. How can you dance? How can guilt dance? How can guilt sing? How can guilt love? How can guilt live? So the one who things he is doing something wrong is guilty, burdened, dead before death, has already entered the grave."

Yep.

There it is.

I need to let go of the deep levels of guilt I have over my "failure". When talking to others about the events of the past year, I have said "I did my best". Apparently, I didn't believe that, or I wouldn't feel this incredible guilt.

But I did.

I did what I could do. I approached my job (and my life) with diligence and care, and devoted attention to the things that needed to get done. I tried to balance my life and see that nothing was neglected.

I. did. my. best.

And I need to believe that, let go, and move on.

Because I need to dance, and sing, and love, and live. And guilt always stands in the way.

So here's to being true, and living real, and for not apologizing when it falls short of other people's expectations.

Here's to releasing my guilt, and freeing my mind and body from its clammy grasp.

Here's to the future. Guilt-free.

Here's to me.

A Confession of sorts

2010-05-06T11:23:00.001-07:00

I must admit, I have been struggling of late.

If you've been following my blog, then you know that my baby, Monte, has been facing some health issues, as I wrote about here and here. He's doing much better now, thankfully, and I even see glimmers of the feisty puppy emerging once again, for brief moments, so I know he's not quite ready to leave me yet.

But the stress of his illness, added to the already overwhelming stress of the events of this year, have taken their toll on my body and soul.

Physically, I have been a wreck. Flu. Migraines. Arthritis. A flare-up of my stress-induced fever blisters. My immune system has gone on strike. My body is a war zone, and I'm the one losing the war.

It is as if my body is telling me "stop the ride. I want to get off." It seems I have reached my breaking point.

And there has been a mental effect as well.

I am supposed to be on a "research contract" this term, meaning that I am supposed to be producing some significant results. In other words, I should be WRITING large pieces of my textbook project. And to date, I have completed 16 pages. Now mind you they are 16 GOOD pages. But 16 pages is not enough.

So I sit at my desk and stare at the piles of notes in front of me, thinking "I need to do this."

And I think about the other projects that I want to complete, including the Psychic Trails book that I have posted some excerpts from on earlier posts here, here, and here.

And I think about where my life is going. And how I need to get there. And how I'd really really rather not go back for another year at my current institution, under these stressful conditions.

And I find myself paralyzed.

So I turn to my new Osho Zen Meditation Cards. And they keep telling me the same things. I need to let go. I need to put the past behind me. I need to move on.

Well, heck, I KNOW all of that.

What I DON'T know is how to do it.

So that's where I'm stuck. How do I move past this stuck place, and move on into the new phase of my life that I know is there waiting for me?

I feel like I'm this beautiful crab tree, full of tight, red, buds, just waiting to BURST open into beautiful blossoms.....but first I need to find the right combination of air, water, and light to let me bloom.

I don't like being a stuck chick. In fact, I have always worked very hard at NOT being stuck. But right now I feel like I'm missing some gigantic sign that is out there, like a neon billboard, telling me which direction I need to turn.

Anyone else see my sign? I could use some help here....

Because one thing is crystal clear to me at this moment: I can not continue this way for much longer. It is likely to kill me before too long.

And I have far too much left to do for that to happen. Just like Monte. We need to stick around for a while longer.

My first Holocaust dream, at age four....

2010-05-02T09:08:00.000-07:00

The earliest Holocaust dream I remember came to me when I was about four years old.

I was somewhat of a precocious child. I was reading at age three, much to the surprise and disbelief of the adults in my life. I preferred the company of adults to children. And I felt a particular affinity for animals and nature.

Yet, for all of that, I was a normal child.

I was surrounded by love and security. I was a lucky child, in many ways. I played games, sang songs, loved cookies and hugs, and knew very little of the atrocities of which humanity is capable.

Still, I dreamt of the horrors. In vivid technicolor and terrifying reality.

This first dream, like so many of them to follow, went something like this:

I was a young girl of about ten years old, dressed in worn and ragged clothing – a long dull skirt, covered by a wrap-around long-sleeved blouse that had once been white, but now was stained and tattered. On my head, I wore a kerchief, tied under my chin, and I had thin, worn shoes slipped on my bare feet.

As the dream opened, I saw myself standing before a set of massive wooden doors, constructed like a barn door with no windows or openings, as the doors swung shut with a bang, followed by the clank of iron as the doors were bolted into place.

Tears streamed down my face and I cried out for help. “Wait! Stop!” I cried. “Let us out. Pleeeaase.”

I felt desperation as I sunk to my knees with my palms resting flat against the barred exit.

Behind me, the building was cold, dark, and damp, but bustling with noise. I turned and awe an unbelievable crowd of women pulsing through the cramped spaces. All of them, it seemed, were intent on finding a portion of bunk on which to settle.

I scanned the crowd, looking for…. Someone, anyone, I recognized. And yet, I knew, even before I looked, that I would find no one. I was all alone.

The darkness seemed eternal, and I prayed that would soon end. I huddled in the corner of a bunk, jammed in with three other women, and waited. Gradually, quiet crept over the barracks, as exhaustion – or death – won out over the fear that kept us all filling the silence.

Finally, when I thought I could stand it no longer, there was a loud bang as the doors were thrown open, and the guards pointed their rifles at us, yelling “Raus! Schnell! Schnell!” We scrambled out of the bunks and massed out of the barracks, squinting into the bright daylight beyond.

As I was propelled by the crowd, I lost my footing and fell into a puddle, splashing muddy water across my face. Behind me, two hands reach down to pick me up, their owners not breaking stride as I was wrenched along.

Once outside, we were pushed into a formation of sorts, and we all fell silent.

Terrified, I snuck glances side to side, trying to discern what was happening. I looked up, between the rows of women in front of me, and my eyes could not believe what they took in: before us, on a platform, stood a scaffolding with six nooses, hanging empty. A line of prisoners stood just beyond the scaffolding.

Loudly, the guards shouted at these waiting prisoners, prodding them with their rifles, and they moved slowly up the wooden steps to the waiting ropes….

It was at this point that I awoke, in a panic.

A child of four.

I knew nothing of Nazis or Racial Cleansing, or death camps. I knew nothing but the warmth and comfort of my loving family.

And yet, there it was, thrust into my innocent dreams – the horrors of the Holocaust – and there it would stay, for the rest of my life.

Analyzing my own dreams

2010-04-30T06:27:00.000-07:00

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.

My skills as empath

2010-04-27T06:00:00.000-07:00

(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.

Today's Ohso Zen Tarot Card: Compromise

2010-04-26T18:19:00.000-07:00

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.

DUH.

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.

A New Meditation Tool and Some Explanations

2010-04-22T18:17:00.000-07:00

(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 Amazon.com 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.

The Side effects of being an Empath

2010-04-21T17:56:00.000-07:00

(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.

A reprieve....call it a midnight call from the divine.

2010-04-19T10:52:00.001-07:00

(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.

Complex layers of grief

2010-04-16T06:46:00.000-07:00

(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
directions.

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.

A Holocaust encounter

2010-04-14T05:10:00.000-07:00

(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
4-13-10

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.

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

2010-04-13T12:05:00.000-07:00

(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.

A job well done.

2010-04-10T14:00:00.001-07:00

(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.

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

2010-04-09T17:14:00.000-07:00

(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.

My psychic back story

2010-04-07T13:28:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-07T06:43:00.000-07:00

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.

Transformations through YogaDance

2010-03-31T12:18:00.000-07:00

(the photo is of my husband and me at our wedding reception, dancing to the music of Abbey Road)

I have always loved to move to music, even if it just means tapping my feet or swaying. Yogadance, however, has opened up a new level of musical appreciation for me that comes from my core being. Being an "older dancer" means that my body does not always do what I think it should do, and it means having to figure out ways to make it move without hurting myself, but this is an exciting challenge that has made my body more flexible and nimble, even after only four sessions of Yogadance. The stiffness, aches and pains, and resistance that an older body experiences, however, do not limit the expressiveness with which I can now respond to the music.

I had no idea that beginning this class, which I did out of support for my friend Christine and as a way to get back into exercise, would have such a powerful, transformative effect on me.

Last Saturday, it brought me to tears.

The combination of Yoga, which focuses on the whole body, on breathing, on opening the chakras and focusing on the energies of the self, with the choreography and, yes, FUN of dance is amazing.

This is no mere "exercise" routine. It is a process of introspection and transformation that makes one open those deepest, darkest recesses of the self that rarely see the light of day and self-examine them. We dust them off, stretch them out, shake them off, and glory in their hidden beauty. And the most powerful part of all of this is that it is done as part of the community of dancers.

I found myself opening wide, letting in the power and energy of those magnificent women in the room with me, as well as letting go of the angst and emotions that had welled up inside of me.

As we moved and prayed with our bodies, I became one with myself again.

I found myself wanting more. More dance. More music. More chant. More of myself.

What an awesome journey that is!

My introduction to Yogadance has been a re-introduction to me. I have been transformed. And that transformation extends well beyond the hour we spend actually doing it.

Will you Yogadance with me, too? How will you rediscover and transform yourself today?

Plan your own tarot party with Christiana!

2010-03-29T18:38:00.000-07:00

Host your own Tarot Reading Party With Christiana, Spirit Guide

Choose the theme – wine and cheese, cocktails and music, afternoon tea party, outdoor patio party – and all you have to do is provide the venue and refreshments. Invite your friends, and voila! A Tarot party!

Christiana can do between 7-10 readings in a single gathering. Cost is $35 per reading, and the host(s) will receive up to two free readings for hosting the event. A separate, private space is required for her to do each personal reading.

Each reading is personalized, and is usually 20-30 minutes in length.

Christiana uses a Tarot Deck called the Lover’s Path, which is a beautifully illustrated set of cards that help her divine the state, needs, and probable paths of her clients.

While Christiana is not a “fortune teller”, she is uniquely gifted to intuit the psychic state and needs of individuals. Her goal is to aid individuals in finding their own true paths to follow.

If you are interested in arranging a Tarot Party, please contact Christiana at Christiana.Spiritguide@yahoo.com.

You can also check out her blog at http://christianaspiritguide.blogspot.com/

Welcome spring and embrace renewal with a tarot reading and share it with your friends!

Re-discovery, Re-imagining, Re-invigorating...Re-designing the self

2010-03-24T17:53:00.000-07:00

It seems that this is the spring for Epiphanies for me. I've written about a couple of them earlier here, about my "I could have had a V-8" moments. And lately, I've had another major rediscovery, this one about music.

I wrote, from Florida, about being reintroduced to the primacy of water for me, as a meditative and spiritual need. I also wrote about the need to keep teaching.

Lately, I re-discovered my inner musical self.

It all started with a commitment to do SOMETHING again, to get active, and try to get my body healthy again.

I had fallen out of my Y swimming routine, for a gazillion different reasons (ok, excuses). I would start, again, next week, tomorrow, next month, after this (fill in the blank) is done.... And it just didn't happen.

And then, my good friend Christine, over at the Blisschick blog, started offering Yogadance classes.

I had to support her. She was living her bliss, growing her dream. How awesome was that?

So, I committed to going to a Yogadance class. First, one on Saturday. Then, after that incredible experience, I committed to a series of Thursday morning sessions. And I was hooked.

But what, exactly, was it that hooked me, you ask?

Was it Christine's enthusiastic teaching methods?
Was it the skillful blending of yoga techniques and dance movements?
Was it my friendship with Christine?

Well, I admit, all of those played a part.

But the clincher for me was.... are you ready? .... the MUSIC.

Soemthing wonderful happened to me when the music came on.

My body came alive.

I could not keep it still.

It took on a life of its own, moving, and swaying, and expressing in ways that I thought it had forgotten long ago.

I should have known this. I should have remembered. I was, after all, a dual major in Music and History in college. I am (albeit a rusty one) a singer. I play piano.

But somehow, music had lost its centrality in my life. Swept aside by so many other mundane concerns.

Then my husband bought my my very own 160gig iPod for my birthday. (He has 3 of his own - he's a real music junkie!) And I was like a kid in a candy store, going through our voluminous library of CDs trying to decide which ones to download first.

And last night, another miraculous thing happened. We went to hear Michael Buble in concert in Cleveland. This was our second Buble concert, and it was awesome.

Most incredibly, however, again my body MOVED. I. could. not. sit. still.

And I let my gaze roam over the crowd, watching other reactions to the music, and I was amazed at how many people were just sitting calmly in their seats, listening, like stone statues all in a row.

Sitting still? To MUSIC?

Such a foreign concept to me.

Music flows like the blood through my veins. It makes me move and sing and tap my toes with wild abandon. It frees my soul almost as completely as immersion in water, that I wrote about earlier. Music transports me, and makes me fly.

And I knew, without a doubt, that I can not let another day go by without music. It would be like denying myself water or air.

And this epiphany is like finally emerging into the bright sunlight after a long, treacherous trek through the deep jungle growth. Unfamiliar at first, my body embraced the warmth of the sun and arms stretched to the sky to bring it closer to my heart.

I'm reaching now, for my iPod, to help this body live again.

What makes you live? What have you let yourself forget? What will you embrace again to invigorate your soul?

Consider the Pearl....

2010-03-17T18:10:00.000-07:00

This is a photo of two "do it yourself" pearl kits I got while I was in Florida. Well, actually, I bought them at the Fort Myers airport gift shop, so that gives you some idea of just how kitschy they are. The kits included a preserved whole oyster, and a charm necklace, with the inserts that direct you to slice open the oyster and find your (guaranteed) pearl within. There are five possible colors of pearls, they tell you, each one signifying a different promise.

Of course, I couldn't resist. I bought not one, but two kits, hoping to find the signs of glory and richness (in life and spirit, not just in dollars) buried within.

So, I eagerly sliced open my oysters, hoping to find those lavender and pink pearls -the rarest ones, of course - only to find two very ordinary white pearls.

Not that the white pearls aren't special and wonderful. I have long admired the pearl above most other gemstones because of its meanings. And, of course, no two pearls are identical in size and shape. They, like snowflakes, are unique.

And last night I got to pondering my pearls, putting perspective and purpose to my thoughts.

Let us take a moment and consider the pearl.

What a truly remarkable creation, the pearl. It begins as a grain of sand, an irritant, that finds its way into the ducts of an oyster. The oyster, in order to protect itself from the chafing of the sand, begins to produce a protective layer that envelopes the sand and stops the irritation. Over time, this tiny grain of sand becomes engulfed in the material that is the pearl.

A thing of beauty, begun with a sharp irritation.

And that made me think about my own life. It made me think about the current obstacles that stand before me. It made me think about how I might, in my own way, turn my grains of sand into pearls.

For isn't what matters how we respond to what the world throws at us?

All of us face those tiny specks that chafe and scrape and irritate the crap out of us.

How wonderful to be like the pearl and, instead of ending up bruised, bleeding, and injured, turning that source of irritation into an asset, a thing of beauty to behold.

So, in deference to the wisdom of the pearl, I vow to start producing my own sparkle out of grit. And when I get the next (inevitable) email referencing how remarkable it is that I have managed to overcome this "difficult and stressful year", instead of letting it make me mad, I will turn it into a positive and marvel that I have, indeed, managed to keep my head held high when others believed I would curl up and wither.

The oyster would do no less. It produces something of tremendous value when irritated. Something truly unique and without equal.

So will I. Just watch me.

So, remember the pearl. Such a small wonder, we often overlook it's true magnificence.

You go, pearl.

Loving and Living

2010-03-15T18:45:00.000-07:00

Tonight, my husband posted a status on his Facebook account that said something like this: "Today was a very long day, tomorrow and Wednesday will be even longer. Luckily, I have a wonderful wife who will help me make it to Friday."

God, he's sweet.

But he's more than that. He is my lifeline.

I've been blogging here about my recent obstacles, and how I have been trying to overcome them, and find my true bliss. I am not new to struggle. In fact, I have faced struggle after struggle my entire life.

I am a survivor. It's what I do.

And yet, until I met Dave, I always survived ALONE. I turned inward, adopted a self-protective stance, much like the hedgehog that curls up in a ball with quills exposed to the dangers that threaten it.

It worked, and I always managed to overcome, to supercede, to survive. But I never thrived. I never knew my bliss.

And then, almost by accident, I met this incredible, wonderful, miraculous man who changed my life.

And when I met Dave, I realized that I was not truly living my life before. I was only going through the motions.

Because, you see, living is nothing without loving. And loving means truly living.

When you can trust someone with your soul, it is an amazing thing.

And my soul mate, Dave has done that for me. We knew at the end of our first date that we were destined to be together. And we were married less than two years later.

The truly amazing thing now, though, is that I no longer roll up like a hedgehog when the predators come sniffing. Now I take hold of Dave's hand, and we face them together, side by side.

And it is truly mind boggling the difference that it has made. With Dave by my side, I can move forward, exploring my possible paths, without trepidation that I will fail. Dave has confidence in me. He believes in me. And I know, whatever happens, that Dave will be there by my side to help me face my foes. And he will be the first to uncork the champagne to celebrate when I conquer them.

With Dave, I fly.

My Dave, who has supported my psychic side, without question, from the day we met.

My Dave, who never scoffs when I tell him I see things, or know things, or have "feelings," and who thinks it's a normal conversation to ask "so, seen any spirits lately?"

My Dave, who told me not to worry when I first told him that I thought I would be denied tenure, because, he said, things will work out.

My Dave, who always can make me laugh, and who takes my breath away with passion and love.

So, tonight, as I reflect, I focus on the most wonderful, positive, amazing part of my life - the part that means I LIVE each and every day. And I give thanks that I finally found him on my life's journey.

And I wish for all of you that you can find and experience this love that helps you truly and fully live each day with joy.

I love you, Dave. You are my soul mate. With you, I live.

Balance and Finding Our New Limits

2010-03-13T06:43:00.000-08:00

Today's post is about finding balance, stretching the self to find the new limits and trying to overcome the obstacles that stand in our way. Interestingly enough, as I sat down this morning to write this post, I opened my good friend Christine's blog, and she has written this morning about the concept of nueroplasticity and the ability to rewrite our brains.

Yesterday, I had a difficult day. It was not difficult for any earth-shattering reasons. It was a normal day, and I had plenty of mundane tasks to keep me occupied all day long.

Yet, something was wrong. Sometime just didn't feel right.

It took me most of the day to figure out that I was battling depression.

It was not the anxious, fear-riddled depression of my earlier days. This was unique in that it had a particularly overwhelming sense of calm that accompanied it.

That's why it took so long for me to identify it.

And I've been having a series of very vivid, highly symbolic, and somewhat negative (ok, some were outright nightmares) dreams this week that added to that sense of mental and physical unbalance yesterday.

So, when I finally had that "oh, duh!" moment yesterday afternoon and realized that depression had me in its grip, I'll admit, I was a bit angry. I thought I had left that depression behind in Florida, blown down the beach like a tumbleweed in the Old Wild West. I believed that my reinvigorated use of water had conquered it.

And yet, there it was. Clear as day. Marring my otherwise positive Friday.

So, what did I do? I got out my brand-spanking-new iPod (a birthday gift from my wonderful hubby before I went to Florida), and cranked up the tunes. I let music carry me away. And it helped.

And last night, I lost myself in the fantasy land of Alice, courtesy of Johnny Depp. (what an actor!)

Today, I am going to take my very first ever YogaDance class, and try to stretch my body as well as my mind. (I'm hoping to reach those cute little toes pictured above!)

Next week, I am starting my Y swim routine again, as I vowed I would while I was in Florida.

I will not let the depression win. I can conquer those synapses in my brain, and I know that I am more powerful than they are.

It's all about balance. If the depression starts taking me too far in the dark direction, I will simple respond by pulling us back to light. I will use music, and water, and air to remind myself of the positive energies that embody me.

I will triumph. Because it's what I do.

What will you do?

A Little Bit of Florida, on the Shores of Lake Erie

2010-03-11T19:01:00.000-08:00

Well, after a long and stressful travel day, I returned to the land nestled on the shores of Lake Erie, to resume my normal life. I found my husband and four restless pets waiting anxiously for my return.

And I returned to my daily routine of going to the office.

But something is different. Actually, many things are different.

First of all, I'm not teaching this term, since I have been granted a research contract, releasing me of my teaching duties to focus on my academic research. (That's a topic for another blog, another day).

What that means, is that I am not driven by the clock this term. No need to cram tasks into the brief blocks of time between teaching.

No frantic scramble to get papers graded in time to return during class.

The luxury of being able to THINK about the tasks that lie before me, and to actually follow through with them as I do them.

It is a wonderful, though strangely disconcerting, feeling.

And yet, something else is different.

That something else is me.

My mind set.

As I wrote about on several posts here, I did a great deal of reflection while I was in Florida. I let my mind go. I let my elements, water and air, cleanse and rejuvenate me. And I reclaimed control over myself and my life.

So, as I returned to school this week, and took up this new slightly awkward routine, I realized that I am a new person.

And it all revolves around that integrity I spoke of in an earlier post.

I COULD be staying home, doing what I feel like, and not worry about the job. After all, they didn't grant me tenure, and don't want me around for the long haul, so why should I bust my chops to work for them?

But, you see, the work isn't for THEM. It never was.

It is now, and always has been, for - and about - me. About realizing my true self. About finding my bliss.

And today? What wonderful thing happened, but that a book rep knocked on my door to offer my desk copies of texts for my courses, and we wound up talking about my OWN book project, and making a connection that might - just might - end up in a book deal for me at the end of it.

See? Integrity.

If I had not been in the office today, if I had chosen to sleep late and read what I wanted to read, instead of going in and doing scholarly tasks, I might have missed this opportunity.

And I know this is the case, because this morning, I saw and heard seagulls outside of my window.

In Erie, Pennsylvania.

Now, we have gulls here, don't get me wrong. They are often on the lake and at the shoreline.

But we live inland, about 47 blocks from the lake, on a hill. We don't usually get gulls up here.

Today we did.

And I know why.

The gulls were there to reinforce the lessons I had been learning in Florida. Like the dolphin who appeared for me in Florida, the seagulls' connection to the water is symbolic for those with this totem. Water represents the emotional side of a persons psyche.

The seagull is a messenger. If it dives into your life (as it did into mine this morning) this can indicate deep seated emotions that need to be healed. If seen bobbing on the surface its asking you to let go of worry, go with the flow and enjoy yourself more.

More importantly, seagulls hold the teachings of fairness and respect and show those with this medicine how to create relationships based on these two principles.

Relaxed and easygoing in all of their pursuits, seagulls bring us the gift of a carefree attitude. They are casual about how they build their nests and where they live.

Those with this totem should try to remember that the complementary side of a carefree nature is the proper acceptance of responsibility. When you commit to something and others are depending on you its not appropriate to just fly off if the mood strikes you. It is good to temper a carefree attitude with a responsible nature and to know when each behavior is appropriate.

So, the gulls, like the dolphins, were showing me that I must hold onto my integrity and self-respect, and carry out my responsibilities for my own sense of balance. Then, and only then, will I have met and lived my true bliss.

So, I remain watchful for those totem signs that tell me I am on the right (or wrong) path, and I listen to their messages.

What are the totems telling you today? Are you following your bliss?

The Mighty Dolphin

2010-03-07T06:41:00.000-08:00

"What sweet mystery about this sea, whose gentle stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath." Ishmael, in Herman Melville's Moby Dick.

The other day, as we sat on the deck at the Lodge, enjoying our leisurely three-hour lunch, a tremendous thing happened.

The dolphin appeared.

Three of them. A trinity of dolphins.

Just for me.

The locals said that they hadn't seen the dolphin around for weeks. That is, until I showed up.

And I believe it was a message for me.

You see, the Dolphin is one of my totems, but it is one that I have ignored for a while now, in favor of the frog. My husband's totem is a turtle, and the frog is just a natural balance to the turtle. So I forgot all about my beautiful dolphin.

Until this week.

This week, when I have been reintroduced to the power of the water and its important role in my life.

So I thought I would share some of the dolphin symbolism and its auspicious meaning for me at this moment in my life.

Water, my dominant element, is a sign of cleansing, freedom, and mobility. That makes perfect sense to me, as I feel reborn when I spend reflective time in the water.

Water is also a universal expression of the unconscious. This, too, makes sense, as I have an intuitive skill in revealing that which lies beneath the surface.

And so it is also logical that my totem would be a water animal. Both the frog and the dolphin are the ultimate sign for me, as they both are known for being in two worlds at once, both of the water and the air.

They bridge the elements, each in their own way.

The dolphin reminds us to live with the same unbridled freedom of the water animals who frolic and play with gleeful abandon. Have you ever watched them following in the wake of a boat? They jump and twirl and race and exude pure joy.

The dolphin also represents transcendence, harmony, intelligence, resurrection, and noble power. I belive that this trinity of beings was sent to remind me to tread with assurance and grace, in this time of transition, and that as long as I follow the path that lies before me, I will overcome the adversities that try to subdue me.

I will transcend, and I will be reborn.

The dolphin are also closely associated with kingly qualities, but not of the dominating kind. They are gracious in their reign, and this grace is their core theme. This is actually very close to the topic I was addressing yesterday in my post, when I stated that I must continue to do my best, and not stop fulfilling my duties, because it is what I owe myself.

This is the ultimate grace.

We do what we do, simply because is it the right thing. We do not look for vengeance, or deceit. We simply must be the best we can be and the rest will sort itself out.

The dolphin are also the epitome of duality, representing both the lunar and solar symbolisms.

As a sun symbol, they signify life, vibrancy, activity, health, renewal, and intelligence. Again, as a powerful symbol for me at this moment, I was struck by their importance in terms of my own personal renewal and revived power.

As a moon symbol, the dolphin symbolizes hidden power, intuition, dreams, conception, and the feminine aspects. I believe this is affirmation of my new venture to provide spiritual guidance through the tarot and dream interpretation. I took this as a very positive omen for my future.

The dolphin then, is perhaps the greatest conveyer of the concept of balance, of the yin and the yang, bringing two halves together.

These powerful totems appeared, in the most powerful number - 3 - to reassure me that I am on the right path, and that as long as I remain balanced and focus on my own personal sense of power and intuition, I will walk the walk of grace and bliss.

What are your totems? Are you listening to the lessons they are teaching you?

Doing the Right Thing....for Yourself.

2010-03-06T06:15:00.000-08:00

This morning's post is about perspective and integrity.

As you know if you've been following my blog, this has been a rough year for me. At several points this year, I've been told and have felt, that I should just "go through the motions" and not give my all in this position, since they don't seem to appreciate my efforts.

And, I admit, at times, I gave in to this sentiment momentarily.

But then, something significant happened. My INTEGRITY reared its head and thunked me across the forehead.

This happened again yesterday.

I have always had a hard time leaving work behind, and this trip is no different. After a wonderfully relaxing day, I came back to the condo and immediately opened my school email.

DUMB.

Because what I found there royally ticked me off, and made me want to just say "screw it all."

There was an email exchange with my chair over next year. In his tenure letter, this very same chair had criticized me for "continually insisting on teaching overload courses, against the advice of her chair." And this email exchange yesterday? Ultimately asked me to teach not one, but TWO overload courses next year. WHAT?

Of course, my friends said "SAY NO! You don't owe them ANYTHING!"

But the money is good.

And, more importantly, if I don't teach them, no one else will. And the students, for whom I have been working all along, will suffer.

Oh, and one of those overloads is for the Adult College. The email request from the coordinator of that program wrote in her email to my chair, "We were wondering if she would offer another course this year, since she is held in high regard by the adult students."

That, in itself, was enough to confirm that I need to teach the overload.

That was affirmation that I was doing the right thing.

Besides, I can not bring myself to hurt the program just to be petty.

I refuse to lower myself to their levels.

I had another email exchange yesterday that also reinforced this idea.

I had a student who simply "checked out" during Winter term. He had been told that he could not graduate, and he simply gave up. So he failed the course.

Then, during finals week, he was given new information. He was told that, so long as he did not flunk any courses, he could graduate.

It was too late. I had already posted grades.

So he sent me not one, but TWO, pleading emails, asking for another chance to pass the class.

And I replied to him yesterday, with a response that he did not want to hear.

I told him that sometimes life teaches us difficult lessons. I said that we should always fulfill our obligations, even when it seems futile, because we never know what might lie beyond the next bend in our life's road.

And this, ultimately, is why I will not give up, or just give the students an "easy pass" when I return to teaching in the Fall. I will continue to give my all and fulfill my obligations, not because I owe the institution anything, but because I owe it to myself.

My integrity will allow me to do no less than my best.

Period.

And the rewards will be far greater than being granted (or denied) tenure. They will be self-respect, integrity, and honor.

And I can walk away from this institution at the end of next year with my head held high, knowing that I have done my best, done good work, and left a lasting mark among the student population.

So, where are you going to leave your mark? Are you waiting for that external, material reward for your actions? Is your perspective clear? Follow your integrity, and you will find the must fulfilling path to your bliss.

Another epiphany of sorts....

2010-03-05T06:23:00.000-08:00

This morning, I grabbed my towel and headed down to the hot tub and pool for my morning ritual of a soak and swim, to help my aching back. And as I sunk deeply into the roiling waters of the spa, I had one of those "I could have had a V-8" moments - you know, where you thunk your forehead because you made a stupid mistake.

Because this morning, as I settled into the water, with no other soul in sight, closed my eyes and let myself be surrounded by the motion of the jets, it came to me.

Water is my element.

I need water every day, in some elemental and powerful way, in order to experience my bliss.

My good friend Christine writes about this at her Blisschick blog, and she just posted an incredibly powerful piece on how dance helps her feel this elemental revival of self in her own life.

For me, I need the water.

And silly me, I thought I was getting it.

You see, we bought a hot tub last year. Every week, we are in the hot tub at least 3 times a week. We soak and talk and relax. And it feels wonderful. Especially when the snow is gently falling on us.

But this morning, I realized that this is not enough.

For today, I spent 10 minutes in the spa and then skipped over the pool to do several lazy laps in the cool water. And this is where my energies are restored.

I have belonged to the Y for years now, having joined with a friend with whom I went swimming regularly. The friendship has since fallen away, and I continued the swimming routine for a long time, but this past year, in the midst of all my turmoil, I found more and more excuses not to make it to the Y for my swims.

It was too cold outside.

I was too busy.

I was too tired.

It was dark outside.

I'll start next week, after this (fill in the blank) is over.

And on and on the list of excuses went.

And as the year progressed, my stress levels rose to alarming levels. My physical and mental health deteriorated. And I was losing grip on my sense of balance and being.

Until this morning.

Swimming, for me, is not about the physical exercise (although it is a wonderful way to get the body moving, with aerobic exercise that is less jarring on the joints). Rather, what I rediscovered this morning is that the process of swimming cleanses my mind. It is as if all the stress and distress of my life is rinsed away by the water flowing over my body.

This makes sense, since I am a Pisces. I belong in the water. I have always known this. I have just not always embraced it.

When I enter the water, and close my eyes, I can make the world go away.

I focus on my breathing.

I feel the texture of the water as it caresses my limbs and supports my body as I move through it.

I become one with the water.

It opens my senses and electrifies me.

I rediscover myself.

Swimming makes me fly.

So today, I am making a promise to myself. I will no longer ignore the needs of my body. I will continue to embrace my need for water. I will immerse myself in the water as often as I can. I will return to the Y.

And I know, if I do this, I will continue to fly.

The Sheller's Lesson

2010-03-03T15:35:00.000-08:00

Greetings from Marco Island, Florida!

Since I am writing this post from the lovely island, I thought it might be appropriate to use a beach metaphor in today's reflective writing.

Since my first trip to Florida in 1984, I have been an avid sheller. ( A "sheller" is a seeker of seashells, also sometimes called "beachcombers", looking for those treasures from the sea.)

You know the type - I'm sure you've seen us if you've ever been on a good shelling beach. We walk slowly, back bent, scanning the beach carefully with our eyes, looking for telltale signs of a fertile shell bed.

We carry plastic baggies and perhaps a small shovel or brush, and we giggle with glee over every single find. It's like being a child at Christmas once again, when every small package makes us squeal with delight.

As I walked the beach late this afternoon, after two days of wild weather on the island, I found that it was a sheller's wonderland. Shells of all types and size littered the sand, including many still hosting creatures (dead and alive) in their interiors.

So today, my first day of my time here at one of my favorite spots in the world, I was presented with a beautiful gift, seemingly just for me.

Today, the weather was brisk and windy, and as I stepped out onto the beach, I began to feel the wind blowing my stress away. The combination of water and wind, my own personal primary and secondary elements, swept over me and soothed my aching and weary body, regenerating my soul.

As I started down the beach, I found myself naturally falling into my shelling behavior, even though it has been five years since my last visit here. (Note to self: five years is way too long between visits...) This unconscious behavior was so natural and instinctive, that I almost didn't recognize that I was doing it.

And as I scanned the sand, marveling at the wide array of shells, I was struck by the lesson that we can take from this simple act of shelling. For you see, a sheller must exhibit patience, dedication, caution, and respect in the process of finding the treasures of the sea.

Each individual sheller has his or her own agenda. Some collect only the large, perfect shells, like the familiar Conch shells that lay scattered along the beach this afternoon, still housing their animals.

Others look for the greatest variety of shells they can find, looking for one of everything, to create a library of sorts of their own shells.

Personally, I have my own favorites. I pondered this as I walked today. I have a fondness for the "turret" or "worm" shells - the tubular, scrolled, and delicate small shells that are much more difficult to find.

I tend not to like the bivalve shells, though the beach is literally covered in bivavles of all shapes, colors, and sizes. I decided today that the reason I shy away from these bivalves is that you rarely find a complete (yet empty) bivalve. Somehow, I find that sad.

So, there I was today, within five minutes of gaining the beach, and I looked down (in my natural shelling pose), and what lay at my feet but a gorgeous turret shell, nestled deep in a pile of broken bivalves. It seemed to be a beacon to me, a message that I was on the right path.

So, this is the message of the sheller. It is not a task to be rushed, but one that must be approached with diligence, care, and patience. The bent back walk of the sheller is not easy, and the result can be pain and discomfort, but the result, when we take the pains to do it correctly, can be extremely rewarding.

Life is like this, too.

Sometimes we get so busy digging through the bivalves of life (all those annoying details of life that distract us from our real path or purpose) that we don't see the beautiful turret shell lying just at our feet. If we don't step carefully, we will crush it, or miss it completely.

Sometimes, too, we can be looking so intently at a problem that we can't see the solution right in front of us.

I passed a large bed of shells today, scanning it intently, looking for my favorite shells, and was distracted by a gull who laughed at me (it was a laughing gull...). I looked away to respond to him, and when my eyes returned to the spot I had just searched, I found the best shell of the day, right in front of me.

So, for you, my friends, I am sharing this lesson. Treat life like a beach full of shells. Keep searching for those treasures that lay hidden, waiting to be exposed.

Yet if we rush, or if we are distracted, we might miss that most precious find.

Patience is the key.

Be prepared. Keep your tools handy. And be ever observant for those telltale signs that will guide you naturally to your finds.

Oh, and remember to let your elements help cleanse you, as mine have cleansed me today.

Working it all through

2010-02-24T18:17:00.000-08:00

If you have been following my blog posts, you know that I am in a transitional phase of my life. This week has been especially hard for me as I am coming to terms with the finality of the closing of one door, and the opening of a new one. As of yet, that new path is not fully illuminated, giving me moment to feel anxiety, fear, and depression.

Today, as I spent hours working on tasks for that path that has been closed down, I felt a growing resentment and anger building inside of me. It led, later this afternoon, to a tremendous wave of depression.

I yelled at the dog.

I got mad at my (wonderful) husband for just being himself.

I wanted to yell and kick and scream at life for making me hurt and feel and grow.

And it took me quite a while to realize that I was letting life win.

"Physician, heal thyself," quickly jumped into my head. How can I expect people to come to me for guidance if I can't even get my figurative stuff together?

So now, with the house quiet, the dog and husband asleep and the cats hiding doing cat things, I am healing myself.

I found a quotation upon which to meditate. I lit a candle. And I opened my blog.

Here's the quotation I found tonight. (I have hundreds, collected over many years. In college, my nickname was The Floor Philosopher!)

"Circumstances are the rulers of the weak; they are but the instruments of the wise." --Samuel Lover.

This quotation reminded me of the great power of karma. My anger today stemmed from the resentment of doing things for an institution that has decided that I am not worthy of remaining there. And yet, I am doing good work. Important work. Work that will make changes and create a footprint for the future.

And I realized, after I lit the candle and focused on what I DID today, instead of what I FELT, that today, I was letting the circumstances rule me. Instead, I should be using them as instruments to secure my new path.

For you see, today I was working on organizing a conference. I was sorting through paper proposals and arranging paper titles and feeling a tremendous exhilaration because my work had shown great results.

Due to my efforts, and mine alone, we had a tremendous response to our call for papers. Because of my diligence and dedication, we will have 100 visitors to our campus in April, to share in the dissemination of historical knowledge. This conference should serve to engage the students and hopefully encourage some of them to pursue graduate degrees in the field. It is their time to shine.

And I was the one who made it possible. Little old me. The one who isn't good enough for the institution that will be hosting this miraculous event.

Oh, and did I mention that I have recently applied for a job at another institution doing precisely this very thing? The title is Director of Continuing Education, but it is essentially organizing, planning, and overseeing conferences and other non-credit educational experiences. In other words, teaching beyond the classroom. What a dream job for me.

As my friend, Christine writes, finding our bliss does not mean that we are happy all the time. Rather, it means that we acknowledge that we are on the right path, and we don't let the negatives drag us down.

Next week, I will be spending a week on Marco Island, in Florida, with my parents. I plan to spend the time reflecting, writing, and studying for my new path. Oh, and expect a few blogs from down there, as well!

And whatever happens, I know, between the bouts of anxiety and depression that sometimes catch me off guard, that my new path lies before me, just waiting for me to take those first steps.

As I said before on this blog, we all know the answers. They lie inside of each of us. It's just that at times we need some help finding the right questions to ask.

So, I'm finding mine. Slowly but surely.

What are yours?

The Major Arcana: Strength

2010-02-23T17:50:00.000-08:00

The VIII card in the Lover's Path deck is the Strength card, the same as in the Ryder-Waite version. What a powerful card this is! In this deck, the strength card is represented by the legend of Brunnhilde and Siegfried, of the Norse and Germanic traditions.

This story illustrates how love can strengthen us to do deeds far beyond our normal capacities.

Brunhilde, the Valkyrie, was the favorite child of Wotan, ruler of the gods and goddesses. An immortal warrior woman, she was content to follow her father's will by bringing the bodies of fallen warriors to Valhalla - the hall of warriors, built by Wotan at a huge cost. Wotan had purchased Valhalla with a golden ring, which gave the power of all the world to any who possessed it. If this ring were to fall into the wrong hands, it could bring about the end of the world.

Wotan was determined to win back this ring, and regain its power. He enlisted the help of a human strong enough to retrieve it. This hero was Siegmund.

But Fate had a twist in mind for Wotan: Siegfried fell in love with another man's wife, and the other gods ordained that he must be killed by the offended man as punishment for his adultery.

Against his will, Wotan was forced to agree with the decision of the gods. To do otherwise would cast shame upon his lover, Fricka, goddess of marriage whose vows Siegmund dishonored with his illicit love.

Brunnhilde was sent as messenger to deliver the death sentence to Siegmund. But Siegmund refused to go willingly with the valkyrie to Valhalla, since the woman he loved, Fricka, now carried his child.

As he begged for his life, Siegmund touched Brunnhilde's heart. For the first time, she understood the power of love, which made her strong enough to disobey her father's will. Instead, she agreed to help Siegmund win his battle. Wotan struck Siegmund dead, for the gods' commands must not be ignored.

Brunnhilde, too, must be punished for her defiance of her father's wishes. For this transgression, Wotan made Brunnhilde mortal in flesh and heart.

As a woman, Brunnhilde had all the vulnerabilities of one. Her father ordained that she marry the first man who found her defenseless in the forest. Brunnhilde had an inspiration, however, and she begged her father not to let her be any ordinary man's bride. Instead, she countered, Siegmund's child could only be a hero like his father. She asked to be placed on an enchanted rock, in a deep slumber, surrounded by a ring of fire. Only a hero such as Siegmund's son would be brave enough to face the ring of fire to claim her as his bride. Together, they would be strong enough to reclaim the ring of power for Wotan.

Wotan agreed to this wise request. When Siegmund's child was born, he was given the name Siegfried, and he grew to be as fearless as Brunnhilde had foretold.

The years passed, and he learned of the woman surrounded by flames that no man could claim for his own. Without fear, Siegfried walked untouched through the ring of fire. As he woke Brunnhilde with a kiss, he knew love for the very first time.

Though their story would have many twists and turns, the duo would prove strong enough to retrieve the ring of power, thus saving the world.

Here on this card, the lovers are depicted as they are triumphantly united at last. The flames surrounding Brunnhilde have been extinguished, like an enchantment broken by love's first kiss. The lovers face the world, confident in the knowledge that they are strong enough to face anything. Nothing will stop them from completing their great quest.

When the Strength card appears in a reading, it usually symbolizes the transformation of weakness into strength. It represents the love which strengthens us, and the strength to do great deeds. It may also signify integrity or unrelenting courage.

In the reversed or weakly aspected position, the Strength card signifies feeling insecure or fearful and the scattering of energies. It can represent wanting others to be strong for you. It can also mean creating discord in order to weaken others.

The great lesson of the Strength card is that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Each of these lovers, in their own way, overcame adversity and weakness, and by joining forces they were able to transform these limitations into limitless possibilities.

When we look into the faces of Brunnhilde and Siegfried, we should see the glimmerings of our own faces. We need to grab the brass ring and stop the ride.

The Major Arcana: Desire

2010-02-22T15:39:00.000-08:00

The next card in the Major Arcana is the Desire Card (VII), or the Chariot in the traditional Ryder-Waite deck. To represent the ideals of the Desire card, we see the duo of Tristan and Isolde. The story of this couple has its origins in French and Celtic tradition. This tale demonstrates how desire drags everything along its unyielding path, creating unstoppable movement where there was once stagnation.

Tristan was a man who was familiar with loss. His name, Tristan, means sad one. His mother had died in childbirth, and his father would soon follow her. Without roots, Tristan pledged his loyalty to King Mark of Cornwall, who took Tristan under his wing as his own son.

Tristan and Mark were inseparable. Mark confided in Tristan that he desired a wife worthy of him. One day, a dove flew into Mark's window, carrying a golden strand of hair. The king took this to be a sign, and asked Tristan to find the woman from whose head it came. Only she could be his bride.

Tristan traveled far and wide, in search of this elusive beauty. Finally, he discovered the hair's owner: Isolde, the daughter of the king of Ireland, King Mark's fiercest enemy. Tristan was determined to do Mark's bidding, however, enemy or not.

Tristan began to woo the dear Isolde, in stead for his King. Convinced that the Prince wanted her for himself, Isolde was moved by the young Tristan. Her desire turned to Fury when Tristan revealed that, in fact, he was acting as proxy for the King. Without the marriage, the threat of war loomed between Ireland and Cornwall. Against her will, Isolde agreed to wed a man that she had never met and whom she did not love.

Isolde wept as she departed from her homeland. As she embraced her parents for the last time, Isolde received a gift from her mother. This package contained a magical potion that her mother promised would bring Isolde joy until death upon her wedding night.

Isolde interpreted her mother's words to mean that she had given her daughter the means with which to kill herself, thus sparing her the shame of an unwanted marriage. Isolde was determined to carry this out, but that she would not die alone. Instead, she would die with Tristan, the young Prince who had won her heart, but who had betrayed her trust.

Isolde mixed the potion with wine in a silver cup. She invited Tristan to visit her. Offering her hand in friendship, Isolde drank deeply from the cup, and then handed it to Tristan. Tristan finished the wine. AS the poison made its way through their veins, love spread like a vine stronger than thorns and far more wild, binding the two tightly to one another.

For Tristan and Isolde had drunk not death, but love that would last onto death.

Isolde's mother had given her not a poison, but a powerful love potion that could not be overcome by any earthly powers.

Nothing could undo what the potion had put into motion. As the ship sped towards Cornwall, Tristan and Isolde gave themselves up to desire's irresistible pull.

Here, on this card, Tristan and Isolde are depicted after drinking the love potion. The ocean surrounding them is as wild as the unruly emotions unleashed by the potion. The fierceness of their desire is a crushing one, as seen in the bold embrace that engages them. IT is as if they could never be separated. It is a force too great to resist, pulling them together like a powerful steed.

The Desire card suggests forces beyond control, powers to which we have no choice but to submit. The emotional landscape is far too wild and powerful to tame. We can only trust that they are in out best interest, since they are fated.

When the Desire card emerges in a reading, it represents being pulled by desire, or movement into the next phase of life. It can signify feeling the forces of fate. If the card emerges, and the querent is feeling impatient, never fear, the transitions will go smoothly, as if they are meant to be. This card symbolizes the external forces that work with you.

If the Desire card appears in a reversed or weakly aspected position, it symbolizes impatience or the necessity of waiting. It means that the querent is trapped by desires which feel unquenchable. It can also signify inconvenient timing or a disregard or insensitivity to the portents around one. It means that the querent is feeling unable to make a transition.

Desire, then, reminds us of the powers that supercede us. There are those strong, natural forces that are capable of shifting the winds, and filling our sails to take us in new and uncharted directions. These forces are too powerful to resist, so we must learn to submit to them, and accept their direction full-heartedly, and embrace them.

The Major Arcana: Love

2010-02-22T12:30:00.000-08:00

Returning to our discussion of the Lover's Path Tarot Deck, we are on the VI card, or Love, in the Lover's Path. This card is known as the Lovers in the Ryder-Waite deck. Again, I believe that the more general Love title better reflects the true meaning of the card than the image of Lovers. For the Love card represent far more than just the fiery, romantic love of the lovers.

The Lover's Path deck uses the myth of Isis and Osiris to represent this card. Their story illustrates the power of love and its ability to transform us irrevocably. For over 3000 years, Isis was worshipped in Egyptian society as the mother goddess of the universe. She had two brothers, Osiris and Set, who were responsible for the fertile soil and the barren desert, respectively.

When the two had come of age, the sun god, Ra, married Osiris and Isis. Their love was blissful. No moon or star could outshine their passion. Since their union was happy, they wielded their power with generosity and justice. Their days were spent nourishing the world; Isis' power combined with Osiris's, producing abundant good from the rich Egyptian soil and the fertile Nile. As a result, they were adored and revered by many, and were granted greater honors than their brother, Set.

This angered Set, and aroused his jealousy. He vowed to avenge this dishonor, as his love for Osiris quickly was transformed into hatred. To be freed from this overpowering hatred, Set trapped Osiris in a coffin and threw him into the swirling waters of the Nile.

Overcome by grief, Isis transformed herself into a bird and flew everywhere in search of her lost love. She finally found his coffin embedded inside a tree, which had subsumed it over time. Isis hid the coffin, afraid that Set would discover it.

But Set learned all. Out of revenge, Set stole Osiris from Isis, and cut his brother's body into fourteen pieces, which he scattered all across Egypt.

Isis was undeterred. Fueled by her love for Osiris, she traveled up and down the Nile in a papyrus boat, searching for the lost fragments of her husband's body. It took years before she was able to collect them all. When she finally had completed her task, she reconstructed Osiris's body, sealing it with wax and gold. Then, using the power of her love, Isis resurrected Osiris for a final embrace.

That act of love resulted in the conception of a child, the falcon-headed god Horus, who would grow and thrive, a potent reminder of how love can create life even when faced with overwhelming adversity.

The image on the card depicts Isis and Osiris wrapped in their final embrace, the one that would result in their son, Horace. Life swirls around the stillness of their kiss, and several birds fly by, depicting the movement of fate, against which love can protect us, as well as Isis's search for her lost husband. The hieroglyphs painted on the wall behind them come from an ancient Egyptian love poem.

This card symbolizes love in its purest form: love which empowers us for good; love which brings joy to the heart. It also signifies the pleasure that sensual love brings to our lives, encouraging us to find healthy ways to increase and enjoy its presence.

While this card may suggest the appearance of an important love relationship for the querent, primarily and more significantly, it represents the unity of the masculine and feminine energies within ourselves. This happy state of harmony enables us to transform the world around us as if we were gods or goddesses.

When the Love card emerges in a reading, it represents love which inspires us to great deeds and harmony. It may symbolize an awareness of the nature of passionate love, and what is necessary to encourage it. It can also signify Sensuality, or an integration of the masculine and feminine energies, known as the anima and animus. It may also suggest the appearance of a new and important relationship, peace within oneself, or a love which transforms the world around one as well as oneself.

When the Love card appears in a reversed or weakly aspected position, however, it signifies that the querent is feeling unworthy of love. It might also represent manipulation of others through sexuality, or an inability to find a loving partner. It can also symbolize immaturity and irresponsibility in love relationships, game playing, or dishonesty.

The symbolism embodied in the story of Isis and Osiris is one of the overarching power of love. Despite the machinations of their god brother, Set, nothing would prove to be more powerful than the love shared by Isis and Osiris, and the ultimate culmination of their love would be found in their son, Horace. When this card appears, let it remind us of the limitless power of love to transform and transcend, taking us to ends beyond our conscious thought.

Love, after all, conquers all.

Why the Tarot?

2010-02-22T10:18:00.001-08:00

First of all, I want to say thank you for all of the responses and support for my last blog post about my epiphany. It has been amazing to see how many people believe in me. It means the world to me.

One of the comments on the last post, though, raised an issue that I thought I should address, early on in my blogging days here. Amy, a fellow blogger, commented: "How cool for you! I used to be interested in Tarot, way back in high school. I no longer have my deck, and personally, even though I no longer believe in the supernatural (of course I admit I could be wrong ;-) ), I think the cards themselves are lovely and interesting, and I certainly think they can be a tool for insight. I think it's great that you have a gift for helping others gain insight into their lives, and great that you are pursuing it! Best wishes to you in your new endeavour!"

Her comment made me stop and think about how people perceive the tarot, and how I use it in my own processes. I thought that some clarification might be in order.

I am not a fortune teller.

The cards do not predict the future.

The cards are not a supernatural gateway to another dimension.

However, that also depends on how one defines "supernatural." I suppose there are those that might label God as a "supernatural being," since he is above the natural forces at work in the world.

Personally, I see the tarot as a means of examination, insight, and self-discovery that can help us better focus our energies and discover the path or paths that lie before us. They can aid us in divining our true selves, based upon the energies that lie within us.

That's why each querent should touch the cards personally.

They thus infuse the cards with his or her own energies, the ones that will reveal themselves in the spread of the deck. This infused energy helps as, together, we interpret the cards that appear. They serve as a guide, not as a predetermined course of events.

As with any form of meditation, there are no easy answers, just waiting to be discovered. Any path takes time, energy, and devotion to find and to follow. I simply hope to play a role in that discovery process. And as I told one of my clients the other night, we do know the answers - they lie within us - we just don't always know what questions we should be asking.

My goal, then, is to serve as the mediator, helping the individual ask the appropriate questions, and understand the possible paths.

Each of us has particular skills that we may share with the world. Some can produce glorious works of art. Others have the ability to compose breathtaking music, or to distill mathematical equations to their purest forms. Still others have mechanical abilities and can create or repair things.

My skill is the ability to see into individuals, by reading their energies. To divine their true nature. To see what lurks beneath the surface.

It is this skill that I employ when I read the tarot. In essence, I am reading the individual, using the cards as a guide. Together, they show me the appropriate questions to ask, so that we may reveal the answers that already lie within.

I hope that you will join me in this meditative process, and that I may have the pleasure of helping each of you find your own questions.

An Epiphany

2010-02-20T05:42:00.000-08:00

Pardon the interruption in the explanation of the Lover's Path Tarot Deck, but I felt the need to blog about my day yesterday.

I had an epiphany of sorts.

The day did not have an auspicious start. In fact, it was downright awful. After teaching at the college level for over 15 years, doing what I have always loved to do, and what I am incredibly GOOD at doing, I was told that I was not good enough to stay at the institution that had eaten my time, energy, and yes, my soul, for the past six years.

Although I knew this moment was coming, and in fact had known since October that the inevitable outcome would be that I would leave this institution, the final letter, in black and white, pierced me like the spear in Christ's side.

And the timing of this event was also quite unfortunate. It came on the last day of final exams of our term, when I am swallowed in a pile of research papers that must be graded before final grades can be posted on Monday. I am under a heavy, pressing deadline.

And now, with this knowledge, they expect me to focus and get grading done by Monday? It seemed, yesterday, to be utterly impossible.

Oh, and did I mention that this is also the weekend that my husband, Dave, who has been supportive and by my side without fail since the day we met, had to be in Harrisburg yesterday and today? So, here was my big bombshell, my Armaggeddon, and I was forced to face it alone.

I admit, I spent about 30 minutes in tears, with my office door shut, after I read the letter. I felt defeated.

I thought, "this is it. I will never be a teacher again. This is my huge exit from academia, and my exodus from teaching." It was not a move I had ever contemplated. All of my life, I knew I was going to teach. From the age of four, when I began teaching my dolls on the front porch, I saw my life's work plotted out before me. I never considered anything else.

So, you might ask, in all of this wallowing, sorry, and self-pity, where's the epiphany?

Well, here's the amazing thing: I was reminded last night that our true purpose ALWAYS emerges, no matter how hard we try to suppress it.

As I have discussed here on this blog, I have been reading tarot, privately for myself and friends, for a number of years now. I was never confident enough in my abilities to take it seriously, although I had been told time and time again that my readings are always "spot on" and that I am "amazingly insightful" in my advice. Yet, I doubted myself.

I was scared.

Scared to find out if I could really do it.

Scared that people might not approve of my work.

Scared that it might affect the rest of my work (ie: my work at the college).

But as this tenure process has unfolded, I began to think about what comes next. What do I DO, if I am no longer teaching college level history, as I have done or thought about for over 20 years? That was such an intimidating question, with no immediate, logical answer.

Until my friends shook me up (figuratively) and said, "DUH! You need to do tarot readings and dream interpretation! For MONEY!"

So, several months ago, I began preparing to launch into this new venture, spending more time with the cards. I have begun studying runes, another ancient divination system. I have done more investigation into dream symbolism. I have cultivated my knowledge and skills.

All in preparation for my big premiere.

And the unveiling was last night. Last night, in the wake of that horrible finalization of my career in higher education. And my hubby was gone. I was alone to face my Goliath. I was nervous. I was afraid. I almost decided I couldn't do it. But that would not have been fair to my two good friends who had organized the event and have supported me from the very get-go.

So, onward I went. Determined to at least put forth my best effort, and hope that I didn't shatter my nose when I fell flat on my face.

I did seven readings last night, in the space of about 3 and a half hours. It was exhilarating, exhausting, and challenging. It made me feel alive. It made me fly. And I realized, as I sat at the table with these individuals who had come to me seeking guidance, direction, and answers, that I was still teaching. That I was making a difference. That I have a special gift that I can share with others that might help them find their true paths in life. And I was transformed.

One of the women for whom I read, a friend of the hosts, told me that I was "amazing," and she was visibly moved by the reading. She walked out of the room, to rejoin the rest of the crowd, and she jokingly remarked "Well, you two obviously called her and told her exactly what to tell me!"

I saw things for all of my querents that were blatantly obvious to me, things that they had tried to hide from the world and themselves. I urged them to face these challenges and tap into their own power. I gave them "homework." I was still teaching. It was beyond amazing.

So, this day that began with the closing of one door, ended quite clearly with the opening of a new one. Last night, I found my bliss.

Ironically enough, it was at the house of the woman who writes the BlissChick blog. How cool is that? Who knew, that to find my bliss all I had to do was go visit the BlissChick?

Though I had refused to recognize it, my path in higher education had me beaten down, defeated, and confined, long before I received the negative tenure review. Had I been truly listening to myself, perhaps I might have taken this new road several years ago. What is important, though, is that now I am listening. I am embracing this self, this purpose, this path. And I am excited to see where it takes me.

Oh, and I know that, wherever I go, Dave will be ever faithfully by my side.

Find your passion. Find what makes you fly. The tops of clouds are an awesome sight.

The Major Arcana: TRADITION

2010-02-17T17:05:00.000-08:00

The next card of the Major Arcana, the V card, is the Tradition card in the Lover's Path, or the Hierophant in the Ryder-Waite deck. What duo could better represent the ideals of this card than the fated lovers of Romeo and Juliet? They are regarded as the quintessential example of star-crossed lovers, trapped by their families' traditional hatred of one another. This story has become the basis for variation after variation in the retelling in film, opera, and literature, as their ill-fated love is played out.

The story of Romeo and Juliet unfolds in Renaissance Verona, where the feud of the Montagues and Capulets disrupted an otherwise peaceful city. The tradition of hatred was so entrenched than even a chance encounter on the street between members of the two households would end in bloodshed. Juliet, the teenaged daughter of Lord Capulet, wanted no part of the feud, but when she fell in love with young Romeo Montague, the families' traditional rivalries sprung into action.

Romeo and Juliet first met when he snuck into the Capulets' costume ball. Juliet, who was also masked, struck him with her beauty and grace. By the time he learned of her identity, it was too late: he had already been captivated by the young Capulet. He later appeared beneath her window to woo her with honeyed words. The two swore their devotion to each other and swore to be wed as soon as possible, despite the feud that separated their households.

It would be Friar Lawrence who would help Romeo and Juliet in their romantic quest. Initially dubious of their emotions, the Friar decided that their union could help heal the rift that had plagued the two families.

Sworn to secrecy, Friar Lawrence married the young lovers.

Peace was not to follow, however, for Romeo and his new bride. Later that same day, Romeo was attacked on the street by a Capulet and, while defending himself, struck his rival dead. Romeo then turned again to Friar Lawrence to act as an intermediary with Juliet.

Meanwhile, Lord Capulet had his own plans for the young Juliet. She was to wed another. She could not tell the truth, that she was already married to the family's foe, so she turned to Friar Lawrence as well.

The Friar provided Juliet with a potion that would render her lifeless for two days. That would allow him time to notify Romeo of the events and help the young lovers escape and be united.

Fate once more conspired against the pair, however.

Romeo received word of Juliet's death before he was informed of the truth by the Friar. Rushing to her side, devastated by her "death," the young Romeo poisoned himself in order to join his love in death. Juliet, awakening from her slumber in her dead husband's arms, did not hesitate to use his dagger to join him in eternity.

Such a tragic tale of love and despair seems to have no immediate connection to the tradition card. And yet, the love of Romeo and Juliet did result in the end of the feuding between the Montagues and the Capulets, giving way to a new tradition, not of hatred, but of tolerance and understanding.

Here, on this card, the young lovers are depicted as they pledge their love to each other in the rites of marriage, performed by Friar Lawrence. Two cherubs frame them, offering the choice of love or duty. Beyond them rests the city of Verona, within whose walls they fell in love.

When the tradition card emerges in a reading, it symbolizes following established social structures, or traditions which are constraining. In love relationships, the tradition card signifies the desire for marriage or some other formal, traditional structure for the sake of secruity. It can also represent an awareness of public image and the desire to control it. Perhaps the querent wants to conform in order to gain approval. It can also signify possible rigidity or reluctance to bend.

In the reversed or weakly aspected position, this card represents the need to throw out the old constraining social structures, in favor of new forms. It can also signify the fear of unconventional ideas or ways of approach. The querent may be facing nonconformity. It can also symbolize the questioning of tradition for tradition's sake.

The ill-fated story of Romeo and Juliet, as represented on the Tradition card, then, can teach us a vital lesson that we should not unquestioningly hold on to tradition for tradition's sake. Neither, however, should we toss the baby out with the bath water. There is always a balance that must be struck between the old and the new, and with the restructuring of the old ways, we open the doors to new paths and new lives, just as the deaths of Romeo and Juliet led to the new tradition of tolerance and understanding. Their deaths, though tragic, were not entirely in vain.

When I see this card in a reading, I immediately think of the musical "Fiddler on the Roof," and the classic song, "Tradition." We should never let ourselves become so ingrained in tradition that we forget to think about why we do the things that we do. It is the WHY that is the important aspect of our actions, whether in love, life, or death.

The Major Arcana: POWER

2010-02-15T16:09:00.001-08:00

We've already been introduced to the story of Merlin and Vivianne when we discussed the Magic card in an earlier post. The next card in the Major Arcana, the IV card, is the Power Card, seen as the Emperor in the Ryder-Waite deck. The lovers here are Arthur and Guinevere, whose complex legend appears in many forms throughout Europe.

Roots of the Arthurian tales also are found in Celtic mythology, where the regents sometimes wear the immortal colors of the god and goddess. The archtype of Arthur as once and future king of Britain is the supreme example of the enlightened use of power, and the modern imagination is still captivated by the tales of Camelot and the knights of the Round Table.

However, Arthur had humble beginnings. Though born of a Queen, Igraine, wife of King Uther Pendragon, he was taken by the magician Merlin upon his father's death to be raised in anonymity. Merlin was protecting the young Arthur from the lords who battled for Uther's throne.

As the fighting continued, the land fell into ruin. When Merlin foretold of a king who would come to unite them all one day, the lords scoffed in disbelief and denied the magic sign he prophesied: He claimed that only the one who could pull a magic sword from an anvil would rule England by right.

Years passed, and Arthur grew to manhood under Merlin's watch. He remained unaware of his auspicious fate. Soon, he encountered the sword in the stone. In need of a sword, Arthur easily withdrew it, thus sealing his fate as England's ruler. Though his rule was initially challenged, in time his authority was sealed unquestioningly.

The reign of Arthur ushered in a golden age for England. He united warring factions under his brave and responsible leadership. He gathered only the best knights around him, including the noble Lancelot du Lac, considered to be the best knight alive, and they served as the famed Knights of the Round Table. Arthur also decided to marry and start a family.

From the moment he first saw her, Arthur was besotted with Guinevere, daughter of King Leodegrace of the North. Merlin advised him that another woman, not Guinevere, would bring him greater happiness, but Arthur's heart was set on Guinevere. He trusted Lancelot to make Arthur's plea for Guinevere's hand to her father, Leodegrace.

Yet, when Lancelot laid eyes upon the graceful Guinevere, all thought flew from him mind. The pair was consumed by a power greater than their loyalty to Arthur. The pair were forced to contain their emotions as the marriage took place, joining Arthur and his bride.

Arthur's power, then, bought him a bride, but not her love. Guinevere respected Arthur, but it was Lancelot who had stolen her heart. Try as she might, the tragic triangle of Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere was entrenched for the rest of their lives, leading to bitter unhappiness for all of them.

Yet, even today, the magical stories of King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table live on, with stories of the beauty of his reign and his bride, despite the sad queen who sat beside him, but could not love him.

On this card, Arthur and Guinevere are depicted on their throne, surrounded by the glory that was Camelot. Lancelot, always in the queen's thoughts, is visible on the tapestry that hangs behind the throne. The round table, shown behind the arches of the throne, and around which no knight could sit higher or lower in status, reveals the ultimate goal of power, which is to create peace and harmony in the kingdom.

When the Power card emerges in a reading, it represents the ability to use power wisely or the awareness of one's own power. It may also signify meeting an authority figure or teacher who can help develop that power. Sometimes, it represents responsibility towards others or the ability to lead and inspire. At times, it suggest knowledge of how to create change without giving up important values or resorting to violence or deception.

When the power card appears in a reversed or weakly aspected position, however, it symbolized that the querent may be oppressed by another's power and authority, representing insecurity and loss of personal power. It may also symbolize passive aggression or using power to manipulate others for personal gain. In other words, it represents blocked or malaligned power.

The story of Arthur and Guinevere reflects the possibilities and dangers of power. Arthur, through his responsible authority, was able to wield tremendous control over his kingdom, bowing all to his will. His power, however, could not bring him true happiness, since it could not give him the one thing he most desired: the love of Guinevere. Once again, we are reminded, as we were earlier with the Magic card, that true love conquers all.

We must, then, strive to temper our power with love, and blend the two in a conscious effort to become more benevolent in our actions.

The Major Arcana: Fertility

2010-02-14T12:48:00.000-08:00

The III card in the Lover's Path Major Arcana is the Fertility Card, represented by the pair Cleopatra and Caesar. Ryder-Waite uses The Empress to represent this card, and it represents fecundity, abundance, and growth. This amazing duo is the perfect pair to articulate these themes.

Cleopatra reigned as Queen of the Nile, empress of Egypt, for over two decades. During that time, she became known across the lands as a seductress with a highly musical voice and unusual intelligence. Made queen at the tender age of seventeen, Cleopatra was quickly forced into exile by those who resented her power.

To regain her rightful throne, Cleopatra turned to Caesar, by smuggling herself to him rolled up in an oriental rug. As the rug unfurled and the young queen was revealed, Caesar could do nought but fall in love with her, and he would help her successfully return to power.

Cleopatra would bear a child to Caesar, a young boy they named Caesarion, or "Little Caesar." The queen returned to Egypt, leaving Caesar to fight the Roman fight. He could not forget the beautiful enchantress, however, and invited her to return to Rome.

For almost two years, the duo lived together in his magnificent palace, a life of golden happiness. Caesar was so besotted with her that he erected a statue of her in a temple of Venus. Though he was already married to another woman, many believed that he would find a way to wed his queen, thus making their son heir to their combined kingdoms.

Together, the lovers were simply too strong, their empire too vast. They were doomed to fall. Caesar became dictator of the Roman Empire, and his enemies accused him of plotting to make himself King. Threatened by Caesar's amassed power and Cleopatra's ambition, several Roman senators conspired to kill Caesar on the infamous Ides of March in 44 BCE. Heartbroken, but always pragmatic, Cleopatra took their soon and fled Rome to save their lives.

Upon her return to Egypt, Cleopatra consolidated her power, using all that she had learned from Caesar. She would also easily seduce Mark Antony, one of three rulers who would divide the spoils of Casear's Roman empire after his death. Mark Anthony helped Cleopatra extend her reign, conquering Crete and Cyrenaica, making her Queen of Kings. This prompted the Roman Senate to declare war on Egypt.

This time, affection was not enough to protect the queen and her empire. Even with his military aid, the Egyptian forces were easily overcome in a battle at sea. Realizing that defeat was at hand, the lovers Cleopatra and Mark Anthony took their own lives.

With the end of Cleopatra's reign, the golden age of the pharaohs came to a close. She was the last monarch of Egypt, despite her determination, Egypt would become a province of Rome with her death.

On this card, Cleopatra and Caesar are depicted in the fecund glory of their ruling years. Pregnant with Caesar's son, she is draped in jewels, representing the richness of their union, and frought with the optimism that their unborn child will take their empires even further. Caesar wears the crown of laurels of the victor, and they are surrounded by the symbols of their expanding empires. Of chief symbolic importance are the multiple cats that roam at their feet. Cats, great and small, symbolize the fertile powers of Bastet, the regal Egyptian cat goddess.

The story of Cleopatra and Caesar, then, represent the host of possibilities that lay before them at their zenith. Hope, optimism, fertility - all are symbolized in the images of the Fertility card depicted here.

When the Fertility cards appears in a reading, it symbolizes power, ruling over one's life, expanding horizons, or experiences of fertility and abudance. When this card is selected, it may symbolize a new marriage or special relationship which supports one's growth. It may also signify practical action which manifests itself as a physical product - children, artistic endeavors, or wealth. It can also specifically symbolize pregnancy.

In its reversed or weakly aspected position, the fertility card signfies deprivation or sterility. The querent might be feeling the lack of material resources or limitations that are overwhelming. It symbolizes the need for more abundance in life.

I remember doing a reading for a friend, and the Fertility card popped up. She was appalled and said "Why, I CAN'T be pregnant!" I smiled, and patiently explained to her that perhaps she was "pregnant", but that the "child" might be something other than a human baby. As we feel the magic of the Lover's Path Tarot, we must remember that each card had a wide range of meanings, and that they must be interpreted in the context of our own lives. The completion of a manuscript or artistic work is as much the process of giving birth as the physical act of giving life to a baby.

Let us all be fertile in our lives, and produce many great works to share with the world.

The Major Arcana: Wisdom

2010-02-14T12:01:00.000-08:00

Following the Magic card is the Wisdom Card, depicted by the lovers Shahrazade and Shahriyar. In the Ryder-Waite deck, the II card is The High Priestess. Here, Shahrazade fulfills that role.

We encounter the story of this powerful woman through the collection of tales known as The Arabian Nights, or A Thousand and One Nights, which first emerged sometime during the tenth century. These tales were popularized during the 18th century, as Europeans became preoccupied by the lands of the Orient. The title of the work refers to the framing device it employs: it is the tale of 1001 nights, over which Shahrazade, the wise bride of King Shahriyar, tells the many stories of the work, in order to save her life.

Shahrazade was not the king's first wife.

Shahriyar's first wife, whom he believed to be completely faithful, was caught in the throes of infidelity. The king was so outraged that he ordered her execution for her indescretion. It was this series of events that would change Shahriyar from a benevolent leader into a distrustful despot. From that moment forward, he suspected all women of treachery and deceit, and refused ever to be betrayed again.

To ensure this fidelity, he swore only to wed virgin brides, whom he would immediately behead the morning after the wedding night.

Naturally, this practice could not continue. Girls were frightened for their lives, for they could not refuse the king without putting their families at risk. It was Shahrazade who would find the solution.

Shahrazade courted the king.

She volunteered to by Shahriyar's next bride, and he was so impressed by her bravery that he wed her. However, he steadied his heart at her beauty and wit, and resolved that the tradition would continue, and she would die just like those who preceded her.

The wedding night passed.

Then, just as the king was about to fall into slumber, his new bride began to tell him a tale. Despite his exhaustion the king was spellbound by her storytelling. The tale was filled with unexpected plot twists, reversals of fortune, courageous heroes, and fantastical genies and monsters. Shahrazade had managed to pull together the elements of all of the world's greatest literature in a single tale.

The storytelling lasted long into the night, and just as the sun was about to rise, the tale reached its most exciting climax.

And Shahrazade stopped speaking.

The king, determined to hear the end of the story, realized that he could not kill his bride now. She had to finish the tale.

Night after night, the young bride continued to weave her tale, as her husband hung on her every word. Tales intertwined with new tales, endless in their clever variations.

The result was always the same. Morning after morning, Shahriyar spared her life. Soon, a thousand and one nights had passed. During this time, Shahrazade's wisdom secured the king's love and trust. In doing so, she saved her life, and those of her fellow women. In her infinite wisdom and creativity, Shahrazade was able to find the means to right the wrongs of the existing situation.

On this card, Shahrazade is portrayed as she tells a breathtaking tale to her enthralled husband. Notice that the sun is rising behind them, revealing the end of yet another Arabian night. Her face is serene with the knowledge that she will live to see another day.

When the Wisdom card appears in a reading, it signifies knowledge and intelligence, or wisdom gained from education. It may represent translating book learning into understanding, or a teacher who will share with you what you are seeking. It may also signify using education to improve your life and the lives of others, or using wisdom to transform a difficult situation for the better.

When the card appears in the reversed or weakly aspected position, it symbolizes an unwillingness to learn, or an overreliance on the intellect or facts, rather than following intuition. It could also represent superficiality or intimidation by intelligence or education. Often this card signifies that the querent is feeling limited by a lack of knowledge or understanding.

We saw with the Magic Card that the power of love could overcome even the most powerful of magical spells. Here, we see that wisdom and enlightenment can provide solutions to even the most vexing and dangerous of situations. Simply by using her talents and her knowledge, Shahrazade was able to transform a deadly situation into one of long-lasting love and trust.

We should follow Shahrazade's lead, and listen more keenly to our intuitive nature. The proper path is not always the most clearly lit; sometimes we must follow deep into the night to find the dawn that will show us the way.

The Major Arcana: MAGIC

2010-02-13T15:00:00.000-08:00

The next card in the Major Arcana, the I card, is titled Magic in the Lover's Path. Traditionally represented by the Magician in the Ryder-Waite deck, I find that the transition from Magician to Magic is a subtle but significant one.

Here Magic is represented by Merlin, perhaps the most famous of all magicians. Merlin is the mystical figure associated with the tale of King Arthur, some claiming that it was Merlin who persuaded the Lady of the Lake to bestow upon Arthur the magical sword, Excalibur. which would empower him as sole monarch of the land. Others have also credited the construction of Stonehenge to Merlin; this massive and mysterious stone circle set in southwest England is full of magic and power.

Yet, as powerful as Merlin's magic may have been, it could not compete with the magic of love. After many years serving others through his magic, Merlin would finally find his love. He encountered and became besotted by Vivianne, an ethereally beautiful woman sometimes associated with the magical Lady of the Lake, and she begged him to take her on as his pupil. As a validation of her worth, she traveled with Merlin, living humbly alongside him with the beasts of the forest.

His devoted servant, she fulfilled all of his needs save one: she would not love him.

In time, the proximity of Vivianne got the better of Merlin's power, and he gave in to her against his better judgement. Unable to resist her pleading, he taught her all the he knew of the magical arts. And when he had no more to teach her, he begged her to take pity upon his devoted heart.

Vivianne decided to put Merlin out of his misery.

She gazed upon Merlin, now completely under her spell, and administered the coup de grace. Arthur's end varies, depending on which version of the Arthurian tales you read, but they all have the same result. Merlin would never return to Arthur's court.

Whatever happened, Merlin's end was clear. The magic which empowered him had been undone by the only thing more powerful: love had trumped his sorcery.

Here, Merlin is depicted at the moment of his transformation from beguiler to beguiled. He is surrounded by the instruments of alchemy, which he had taught Vivianne to utlize. As Vivianne casts her spell, Merlin is overcome by love, by magic, and by awareness come too late: He now knows something more powerful than himself.

The lesson of the Magic card is that we should never become too confident in our own powers, and should always remember the mystical and overshadowing power of love.

When the Magic card appears in a reading, it represents that the querent is developing the magic within. It could also mean casting a spell on someone else to create positive change. Self empowerment and actualization, a yearning to grow beyond perceived limitations, or the ability to transform your life through originality and personal power may also be symbolized by this card. When this card appears, it could signify renewed creativity and vigor or a yearning to grow beyond limitations. It is one of the most powerful, transformative cards of the major arcana.

When the Magic card appears in the reversed or weakly aspected position, however, it represents blocked power, when the querent is feeling under the spell of another's power. It could represent manipulation or the exploitation of others. It also represents a need to control situations behind the scenes and secrecy, or trickster behavior that creates distrust. A reversed Magic card should indicate to the querent that he or she should be very wary and introspective regarding deceit and manipulation.

On a personal note, when I see the Magic card, I am always reminded of the person who first helped me develop my own psychic abilities, for he had a great deal of his own magic, which he then shared with me.

The Major Arcana: Innocence

2010-02-10T18:03:00.000-08:00

In the Ryder-Waite deck, the first card of the Major Arcana, the zero card, is usually called The Fool. Here, in the Lover's Deck, it is the Innocence card, and it is represented by the lovers Tamino and Pamina, from Mozart's opera The Magic Flute. This was the last opera Mozart composed, and he completed it in 1791. One of the inspirations for the plot of the opera was the rites of the Freemasons, to whom Mozart belonged. The opera recounts the story of a princess, Pamina, and a prince, Tamino, who learn to trust their hearts, innocent and inexperienced as they may be. Thus, they are the perfect symbols of this first card, the Innocence card, of the major arcana.

The basic plot of the opera revolves around the two young lovers. Pamina's father, on his deathbed, bequeathed his magic flute, whose song could offer solace, to his queen. He gave his solar orb, which gave the power of the sun, to Sarastro, his most trusted friend, to hold for his daughter until she came of age. The queen grew jealous of this power, set aside for her daughter, and the desire to posess this gift grew exponentially over time. The queen learned the black arts and soon became known as the Queen of the Night.

Meanwhile, Sarastro took Pamina away to protect her from the Queen. She grew up, and the Queen spent those years, helpless against the power of the orb, plotting to regain it. One day, she came across the young Prince Tamino in the woods. She introduced herself to him, asking Tamino to rescue Pamina and the solar orb from the evil clutches of Sarastro. Tamino, believing the young Pamina to be a damsel in distress, readily agreed, and the Queen gave him the Magic Flute to aid him in his quest.

Off Tamino flew, to Sarastro's palace, where he confronted the great man himself. Sarastro told Tamino the truth about Pamina and the Queen, but Tamino did not believe him. In search of guidance, Tamino played the Magic Flute, which told him to believe Sarastro and follow him to Pamina.

As soon as the two young people saw each other, they fell in love. Sarastro was pleased by this turn of events, but warned that Pamina's father would expect Tamino to prove himself through a test of bravery. The test, Sarastro explained, would pit Tamino against earth, wind, fire, and water. The test began at the foot of a mountain, where he found a deep cave from which ribbons of fire and a waterfall circled by winds emerged. Pamina declared, "I shall lead you, but love will guide me."

Tamino raised the Magic Flute to his lips and began his journey. Pamina took his hand, and together they approached the cave, using the flute's song to ease their fears. The duo was protected by the flute, their hearts calmed by the notes. Together, they would emerge unscathed from the elements in triumph.

The image on the Innocence card is that of Tamino and Pamina at the moment they are being tested by the primal elements of water and fire. Tamino is blindfolded, representing the innocence that limited his view of the world. Blind to the world, he must rely upon Pamina's guidance to survive the tests of the elements. They must trust each other. Pamina, in turn, must trust that true love will guide them to safety. Though she is also innocent of the elements, she knows enough to follow her heart and trust in its guidance. This serene trust is the greatest gift that innocence has to offer.

Personally, I feel much more comfortable with the image of Innocence rather than The Fool of the Ryder-Waite deck, as I believe that it imparts a greater sense of purity and trust, rather than the negative characteristics of deceit and illusion suggested by the Fool.

When the Innocence card emerges in a reading, it can have a number of meanings. It can represent the beginning of a great journey, or the launching of new ventures or risks. It signifies the innocence that allows one to be open to possiblities and protects from difficulties. This card symbolizes the process of facing one's fears and trusting the heart. A sense of optimism emerges. One might be feeling protected by divine forces, such as Pamina did when she followed her heart to lead the duo to safety.

When the Innocence card emerges in a reverse or weakly aspected position in a reading, it may signify that the querent is ignoring his or her better instincts. It might symbolize cynicism or pessimism, and a distrust of the self or others. This would be a signifier that the querent is not listening to those divine forces, and is unwilling to take the first step to make a new start and take a new path.

The Innocence Card is the first card of the major arcana, representing only the first steps in a long journey of development. It is a powerful card, nonetheless, because as we are well aware, every journey must begin with that first step forward. Without that single step, there can be no others that follow.

Translating the Lover's Path (Part I)

2010-02-05T13:59:00.000-08:00

So we saw in my last post that my deck is the Kris Waldherr creation called The Lover's Path, a particularly aesthetically pleasing collection of images and meanings. Since most people are more familiar with the Ryder-Waite or other more conventional tarot decks, I would like to spend some time introducing the cards of the Lover's Path here. As we discuss the cards, and you see the images, I hope that you will find the magic in them as I have.

Traditionally, there are four suits in the tarot, representing each of the four elements: Fire, Air, Water, and Earth.

Water, the element of emotion, is represented in both decks by Cups (also sometimes called Chalices). Water is ruled by the moon, and just as the sea is pulled by the power of the moon, our lives are pulled by our feelings. Our emotions sweep us along, sometimes calm, sometimes stormy, always sustaining us, giving life a richness beyond jewels.

In the Ryder-Waite deck, the next suit is usually called Wands, and represents Fire, symbolized by the powerful sun. In the Lover's Path, this suit is called Staves. The electrical force embodied within the suit of staves is as powerful as fire, and as expansive as the sun's life-affirming energy, leading us along a path of action or change, and teaching us how to take charge of our lives.

Air is typically seen as swords, although here we see Arrows. Just as fire burns us to take action in our lives, the arrows prick our consciousness into awakening. Arrows suggest the incisive forces of the intellect, and cause us to reflect and be introspective. They focus the fiery energy of the staves and help us to understand life in all its complexities. Arrows represent transformative possibilities.

And finally, Earth, the material element, is called Pentacles by Ryder-Waite, and Coins here in the Lover's Path. Coins represent the best the world can offer us, by assimilating the lessons of the three previous suits. Coins suggest practical measures for creating stability in our daily lives. Coins are associate with the earth, whose most precious metal is gold. The earth is necessary for our very existence. It is integral to our survival. Our religious beliefs tie us to the earth in many concrete ways. The gold of the coins suggests the forces of prosperity created along the path of manifestation. We can only attend to these powerful forces once our personal needs are fulfilled, thus allowing us to create heaven on earth.

Every path must begin somewhere, and the Lover's Path begins with the stories of the Major arcana cards. The twenty-two cards in the major arcana tell a story of progressive life lessons, each an important archetypal experience. The lessons on each card come from emotional states and experiences, which togehter represent the hidden geography of the heart. By reading the Major arcana, we can discern the twisting and turning paths of life's journey.

The journey begins here with the Innocence Card (Card (0) and ends with Triumph at Card XXI. The major arcana cards share the love stories of twenty-two famous couples, each of them affiliated with a particular major arcana card. These pairs have been carefully chosen from the most inspiring legends, myths, and historical events in history, and the stories provide mystical illustration of the emotional principles associated with each card.

When major arcana cards appear in a given reading, they can represent recurrent life themes and important transitions at hand. They are the most powerful cards in the Tarot deck, and represent great energies and powers. They suggest that there is much more to a given situation than meets the eye, and signals to the querent that he or she must look deeper, beneath the superficial responses to the question at hand.

The power of this particular deck will be revealed as we examine the images, symbolism, and signficance of each card in turn. And you do not have to be a Lover to appreciate the wisdom in its message.

Please join me for future installments of Translating the Lover's Path. It will be an exciting journey. I promise.

Introducing My Tarot Deck

2010-02-04T13:34:00.000-08:00

When I began my journey with the Tarot, I was introduced to it by a friend, as so many of us are. And, as tradition dictates, I was not allowed to purchase my own deck of tarot. Instead, she took me to the store, where I perused literally fifty different decks, before carefully choosing the Lover's Path Tarot, created by Kris Waldherr. The choice of a deck should not be made in haste. Rather, the new deck should call to you, reaching out with its energies, for you will be forging a relationship with these cards that will be meaningful in both tangible and intangible ways.

This deck spoke to me.

In particular, I loved the imagery on the cards. The art was inspired by the creator's visit to Italy, and the images reflect the rich world of the Italian Renaissance. And, as she states in the companion book to the tarot deck, she became enchanted with the labyrinth of Venice, because she "could never be certain what would appear before me around a corner." That, in essence, reflects the art of the Tarot. It helps us to discern what is around each new corner. She states, "Often, just as I convinced myself that I was irrevocably lost, I would find myself exactly where I intended." How often have we found that, just when we believe our path is irrevocably twisted away from our goals, that we have arrived just where we need to be?

This is the gift of the Tarot.

And it is in this deck, in particular, that I have found the means to help find our way through the labyrinth that is this life.

So, I thought, what better way to start this new blog, that through an introduction to the tool that helps me decipher the twistings and turnings that surround us?

This deck, like most traditional tarot decks, contains seventy-eight cards, divided into twenty-two major arcana cards and fifty-six minor arcana cards.

The major arcana cards are each affilitated with the story of a famous historical or mythological couple, exploring the many experiences of love and the major archetypes and universal questions of life's journey. Each card is thus named after archetypal emotional states represented by the stories, and in turn, are related to traditional tarot symbolism.

The minor arcana cards explore the great themes of the major arcana, but now brought to earth, and made relevant to our individual experiences. The minor arcana are divided into four suits: cups, staves, arrows, and coins, related to the elements of water, fire, air, and earth. The cards in any given suit retell one of the classic love stories, with each card progressively depicting an important scene from the story. Together, they impart the lesson associated with each suit.

So, watch for a series of posts introducing the cards of this deck, with explanations and images of the various cards in the Lover's Path. I hope you will find it as exciting to learn them as I did, when I first held their energies in my hands.

Welcome to the Lover's Path.

Welcome!

2010-01-22T07:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Christiana's Corner! You might ask, in the sea of websites and blogs available, what could this blog possibly have to offer? Believe me, I have asked myself this question as well, before deciding to dive in to the web waters. A very dear friend of mine writes a Blisschick blog (view Christine's blog here: http://www.blisschick.net) She writes about finding and living your bliss on a daily basis. Developing this side of my identity and embracing my abilities is my attempt to live my own Bliss. It is my hope that here, through my personal experiences, psychic insights, and informational posts, that I will be able to reach out and provide direction and guidance to those in need of some spiritual healing.

I am a healer at heart.

Through my psychic abilities, I hope to share that healing with others.

Initially, I will share some of my own background and experiences here, by way of introduction to my psychic development. Beyond that, however, I will also include discussions of the tarot, runes, dream symbols and interpretations, aura colors and meanings, and other spiritual issues.

For those who are interested, I also provide dream interpretation, personal tarot readings, and basic spiritual guidance for a reasonable fee. Often, we just needa little help to get ourselves back on track and walking the proper path. It is my goal to provide that nudge in the right direction.

So be sure to check back regularly and catch up on Christiana's Corner!