I was warned

Early on this path, I was lovingly warned by several wise people that it is deeply challenging to hold on to committed relationships as one moves up the energy scale. That it becomes harder to communicate when one of you is literally changing your density towards more light and the other has stood still. It is the energetic equivalent of not speaking the same language - or in my case, it is more like one of us is deaf and the other is invisible. I thought I was going to be an exception to this rule - after all, my spouse is not bothered by my abilities and says they support my work and exploration. But then over time, it became clear that we were sliding past each other onto very different planes. It was subtle at first, like when I'd say with certainty that I "knew" something, and my spouse would scoff and question it. I generally thought, oh, I am be prepared me for all the skeptics I'll encounter. But then I began to realize that my excitement about what I was learning, what I was experiencing, was not being met or acknowledged. It was as extreme as me saying I saw the fabric of the universe and the response was, "Hey, did you pay the electric bill yet?" I was eager to share what I had learned, believing it would help everyone, only to be met with grunts. I'd try to share my day, my readings, experiences. I may as well have just read the phone book aloud. No questions, no interest, no sharing. Over the months, as I listened intently, I realized how much I had been listening to the same story, the same challenges, for the past 30 years. I had my own sticking points, and I used his issues as a mirror to my own old hurts and grudges. I tried to encourage meditation, walking to hear his higher self, to listen to lectures and talks - not to force my spouse to be like me, but so they could find the new door they could walk through, a next level of development. He half-heartedly meditated with me a few times and fell asleep, but never took my suggestions. Our conversations and encounters grew stranger: full of misunderstanding and miscommunication. We grew more distant.

And so I wondered if we would be one of casualties of spiritual evolution. I wondered if we will make it. And then after a particularly bad winter, it hit me: I had to accept him just as he was. I had to stop all this efforting to bring us closer or make us better. I had to stop thinking in dualities, even with my closest relationships. All ways are valid. I could not go back to where I was, that much was clear to me. And if he has no desire to move forward on his path, well, that is his choice to make. Acceptance is the key to transcendence. we must embrace it all in order to further our understanding of love. Is this a larger lesson on the human nature, old and new ways clashing, male and female perspectives clashing? Perhaps. I don't know what will happen, but I do know that once I began to truly accept, I began learning a lot more about what love is, and what it is not.

9. My Tribe

After much hemming and hawing, I leapt into the unknown recently. I had heard of a very specific, deeply challenging training course for those of us that get information beyond the five senses. Because I am a snob about education, especially in this metaphysical sphere, where my experience is that it is too common that teachers are fluffy, unprepared and unprofessional, I researched the institution thoroughly. I decided it met my standards, so I slipped out quietly and travelled thousands of miles, hoping this was the right move. It was a game-changer. I wish I had done this years ago. Never have I been able to speak so freely about being a seer, and utilize my ability without reservation. Never have I had such demanding and responsible instruction in psychic work, and exercises that taught me precision I could not have achieved by myself. I bonded quickly with almost everyone in my class, and we supported each other beautifully. My new friends are all as normal as I am, not a mu-mu, crystal or cape in sight. They are from all professions and have all read the same books, had the same thoughts, wondered about the same things as I have - the difference being they are living their path openly. They have not been rejected by their friends or family the way I fear I might be, but they were gracious in their sympathy for my fears. They give readings in a variety of methods in addition to their day jobs and it all works out very well for them. They live in the flow, they are not hiding their light, and their perception is sharpening the more they use it. We worked hard that week, harder than I could have anticipated, and between the faculty and the students I knew I was amongst my real tribe. They have offered to support me as I consider coming out from behind the curtain. Let's see if their bravery can bolster my own. 

8.Spiritual Parking Spot

I have described a little of what it feels like to meditate alone and with others – and by meditation, I mean stilling myself with only the intention of listening to what it is time for my awareness to know. I sit knowing I am a vessel that will be filled - with what, I never can predict. Sometimes I am in need of healing or bolstering or my vibration may feel weak or I am going through some physical or mental crisis. Them I am simply flooded with peace and light and there is no “message” or information. Most of the time I am translating messages from higher vibrations; my analogy is right out of pop-culture, but it gives you a concrete image. Remember when Mike TV from the Willy Wonka film is “transmitted” across the top of the room in microscopic data bits and then reassembled – albeit tiny – on the other side of the room? For me, it is like that stream overhead - there is a constant stream of data flowing nearby in energetic form, and when I sit with the intention to blend with it, I get access. And yes, I translate it into much tinier form than it is conveyed to me. Because I am human and limited and a filter with only so much information, language and experience to access in my personal reference library, I cannot convey the grandness of what I hear, no matter how much I try. One of the things I do try to do, though is constantly expand my vocabulary and references through reading and listening, and observing, so they have more to work with. I have gotten used to all sorts of blending and data and downloads, but the weirdest and most interesting to me, actually, is when I translate for other human souls. Sometimes they have passed over, sometimes they have dementia or are in a coma, very rarely they are still fully alive and aware, but I have full on conversations with them on a variety of topics. Most of the time they drive the conversation; there is something they need to convey and I happen to be available. It is not as random as they were driving around the packed parking lot looking for an open space (i.e., me) but you know when you make yourself available as a translator, it is part and parcel that souls come looking for help.

It is a little sad to me how many people are only convinced if mediums talk in hyper-specifics because for the souls I talk to, they are so uninterested in minutiae. They do not want to talk about where the lost keys are or misplaced money or what you did with their clothes – although they know that is the only thing that is going to convince you, so they do. They want to talk about your soul growth and your challenges and choices they made and regrets and how to be more loving. Over and over they say, humans are born to learn as much as they can about love, let us help you to understand what it really means. Their emotion is so palpable, I am usually in tears. And yet, we persist in asking them lottery numbers

7. Dancing with Others

When I do energy work with others, either individuals or groups, my experience is much more profound, emotionally and physically - that is if I want to open to their streams (more on that choice another time). If my solo meditations are a four piece quartet, when I am with four  or more other people, it becomes a symphony. I do energy healings with a partner, whose energy complements mine in a way that we can only describe as covering longitude and latitude. I bring energy into the room, and she spreads it out through the person’s energetic field. Physically, I am usually blasted back against my chair, as I am opening three energy streams at once: mine, my healing partner’s and the person requesting healing. My body and neck are usually forced backwards as the energy streams enter the room above the client(s), goes straight into my heart center, which is truly the emotional hot spot of each human being. We mistakenly think our brain and our thoughts are the most important parts of our humanity, but it is our feelings, and they dwell in the heart center. Thus, the healing energy that is not meant for me must bypass my head and my thoughts and perceptions, so it is literally pushing my head out of the way.  So, while I am in this backwards contortion, the energy enters my heart center, then zooms across the room through the heart center of the client and into the heart center of my partner. Then it completes the triangle by returning back to the top of the room. And the energy flows through this triangle at a ever-changing rate for 8-10 minutes. Instead of my usually inhale/exhale pattern, I am being breathed during this time, in extremely shallow breaths that are actually quite comforting. At times, my heart is in real physical pain as the stream works to soften and open the painful emotional patterns of the client; often my partner cries as a release of this person’s emotional scar tissue. The power of the stream is a good indicator to me of how the person is doing, whether they are closed or open, whether they have a strong or weak life force, but, really, what happens in our healing session is between the client and the energy stream. I do not need to know more details and it is not my place to know. I trust that our guide and masters and higher selves know exactly what to do and will do it for us. We are just creating a space for asking and allowing. When our guides are done, they let me know by pushing a huge exhale or air through my lungs. It cleanses me of any accrued energy, and brings me back to my body and my being.

And, every time, my partner and I look at each other in amazement. Every time it is profound, and every time, we are so grateful that we get to do this.

6. Dancing with Myself

When I meditate alone, I am opening only to my own energy stream. I think of it this way: if my personal energy stream is trickling all the time, when I meditate, I am opening the tap full blast. To me, the energy feels like nothing else I have ever known. If you have ever seen or felt waves of heat coming off the pavement on a hot day, it is a bit like that – except imagine the waves continuing to ripple through your body, making your tissue and bones feel pliant and amorphous. If you are a woman and have ever felt birthing contractions, and how your body is being opened and closed even when you are still, it is a little like that—minus the pain. I imagine it could be  like being deaf and feeling the beat of the music through your other senses. Imagine how the ocean undulates and imagine your body as a boat amongst that undulation, as you feel the rate and speed and height and depth of each wave. It is a bit like that. I feel energy shifts acutely now, which allows me to enter into meditation quickly. I sit with my spine straight and rest my hands in my lap. I close my eyes and think, “I open myself to love and light.” The minute I invite the light, my head begins to move slightly, as my physical body adjusts to the influx of faster energy waves which I have invited in. Sometimes my head waves, bobs back and forth, moves in a subtle circular motion, or makes what I think of as an infinity sign. The energy usually builds as I open more to it, and relax more into the waves. Literally, I can feel the wave motion move throughout my being, at faster or slow rates, depending on the day, my mood, my personal energy level and how open I am feeling. If I am clear and open, the rate of energy is very fast and smooth; if I am distracted or low, the waves are slow and plodding. At some point, which I can never predict, there is an alignment of my body and my higher self, and I tip over into timeless unawareness. I call it “clicking-in.” Oh, I might be conscious of a bird outside, or of someone coughing in the next room, but it is as if it is coming through thick walls of liquid. My self is boundless and huge, far beyond the container of my body, and I seem to exist in three dimensions all at once. For example, in our reality, my hands have a clear back and front, palm and knuckles, so to speak. When I am deep in meditation, my hands seem as if they can move at impossible angles and have no clear ending or beginning. What happens to my head is always fascinating to me. Sometimes, it feels as if my head is a computer and information is being downloaded into it during my session. Sometimes it seems as if my the top of my head, or crown chakra if you prefer, extends in and endless cone of light and tension up out of this reality into the unknown. Sometimes it feels as if my third eye, or the space between my eyebrows, is being pried open to it’s fullest. Sometimes it is as if my head is contracting and expanding, my sinuses begin to drain, or I sneeze multiple times in a row. And sometimes I have no memory whatsoever of the entire session, which can sometime be an hour or more. I am always gently brought back to myself and to my awareness at just the right time, feeling so nourished and full and loved, it is true bliss.  

5. Co-operation

When I sit - or meditate, for lack of a better word - it is never the same. Some days I am able to concentrate within seconds, and I am off, gone on an interior journey, that, too, is never exactly like the day before. I have learned over the years that what I am experiencing in those minutes and sometimes hours of meditation is both a shift of my consciousness from exterior stimuli to inner knowing, but also my choice to turn off the radio stations signifying the outside world and tune into my own authentic station. The radio stations of the outside world are not bad or wrong, it is just that they have very little to do with who I truly am and what my personal, individual journey is. There is the drone of other voices, and there is the harmony of your own. It would be like wanting to start keeping a diary, and copying the words of someone else’s diary instead of figuring out what it is you want to say. If I still myself, I can hear myself; it is as simple as that. And when I can hear myself, I always know the content is true. Always. There is no need to sort out what is spin and what is edited, what is imagined and what is emotional. What wells up from my higher self is instantly clear and resonant. For me, there is no equivalent. 

This work is a co-operative practice. I  reach up and my higher self, my team, reaches down, and we meet in the middle. I have led some friends and some strangers into themselves through meditative practice, and for those that feel that quiet clicking in, they are transformed. They crave stillness the way others crave other highs. Finding that inner sanctum is a high of sorts, a plateau from which to look back upon your adorable humanity and wonder why you do things this way or that way, why you believe what you believe. 

Others come to me wanting me to fix them, to "do" them up. They want answers now, they want to feel better right now. They do not see value in the struggle nor see their own resourcefulness. They do not feel the clicking in of feeling into their home vibration. They would rather do anything than be with themselves. I feel for them so deeply; I have felt that brokenness and shame myself, when you'd rather do anything than quietly sit amongst that museum of self. In that space, you only see the terrible choices, the hurt, the wrongs, the blame. If only, I say, if only you could sit with your trauma a little while, be with it, you might see the tiniest sign of all the stillness that lies beneath. The trauma, the addictions, the hurts, they are only waves on the surface of the ocean; below, under the waves, is the majority of the ocean, the power, is is calm and still and teeming with life.

2. "No, you're not crazy, honey."

When you begin to “hear” (more on that later) other sources of information, you think you have lost your mind, gone schizoid, dropped your basket, as they say down South. At one time, I worked with chronic schizophrenics, so this was of particular concern to me. I compared myself to the symptoms in the DSM frequently, but could find no correlation. One day, I couldn't take it anymore and I called up a dear friend, M.,  who was a psychotherapist. We met in a coffeeshop and after a lot of hemming and hawing, I managed to say, “I have been having some intense, um, experiences.”

“Like . . .?”

“I just get information. Like a voice, but not really." I summoned the strength to look her right in the eyes. "Would you do me a favor and test me for insanity?”

Bless her, she barely reacted, just smiled and asked me some questions about the nature of my experiences and what kind of information the voice was giving me. After a while she said, “No, you're not crazy, honey. You sound like a mystic. To be honest, I’ve been kind of waiting for something like this to happen.”

I could not have been more surprised. “Really?”

She smiled. “Oh, yes. Considering all of the conversations we have had, and what we have discussed, there have been times you are speaking from a different space. Inspired. I think you are some kind of guru, or spiritual warrior or something. I have felt that for a long time.” I started to cry from relief. “Just promise me you’ll write this stuff you receive down and show it to me, ok?

I nodded and tried to pull myself together.

I often wonder what would have become of me if she hadn’t responded exactly as she did at exactly that moment. To say she saved me is not to strong. She gave me permission to explore this and be who I was and not for a minute doubt that what I was receiving was authentic.

M. has been integral to my understanding and use of my capacity. She has been my steadfast companion on this path, asking all the right questions, encouraging me to play bigger, compassionate when I feel to terrified to try. If only everyone had an M.; if not for her I’d have stuffed this all down and filled my life with busy work to drown out the divine. She has offered me the space to be afraid, and the courage to explore the vastness of this terrain. I often think her showing up was orchestrated to coincide with my awakening; she was the bonus prize for saying "yes" to this ability. Paul Brady has a lyric, "We are all children headed for the mountain, looking for someone to talk to on the way." No matter where we are in the world, we are side-by-side, facing the climb.

4. It Ain't Easy Bein' Green

Years ago, before I began to practice stilling myself, I associated meditating with being blank and clear, like a bowl of water. It was an image that made me uncomfortable, for reasons I am still curious about. Was it that I felt I would fail? Was I so attached to my constant stream of thoughts and worries? Was I fearful that if I stilled my intellect, that which I thought was my gift to the world, that I would just crumble into nothingness? Did I mistrust the silence and stillness? It was always some combination of these factors that made me run from meditating for a long time, despite the urging of friends who found it essential to their well-being. One day, while waiting for a delayed friend, I decided to join the meditation class that was starting in the room next door. The instructor helped me arrange myself on a pillow so my spine was straight, then guided us through some breathing exercises. I had just settled in when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “It’s time to go,” someone whispered. With great effort, I opened my eyes, and saw the instructor squatting in front of me, grinning. The room was empty except for the two of us. “I let you go as long as I could, but there's another class needing to come in.” I just stared at him. “Wow, you really went somewhere, didn’t you?" he said, and without warning, I began to cry.

“I don’t remember anything.”

He patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, you just sat there completely still for an hour.” He got up and gathered his things. “You’ve never meditated before?”

I shook my head.

He gazed at me for a minute. “Wow.”

The experience so frightened me that I didn’t meditate again for a few years. I later was able to piece together that I associated that kind of blacking out with the abuse I had suffered as a child. Once I was able to see my fear for what it was, I was drawn to meditation once again, but I was frustrated in my efforts for a while. A series of tragedies left me unable to focus, and I felt I needed to be busy to keep depression at bay. In retrospect, meditation was exactly what I needed, but I was not ready to fully commit. I found myself drawn to more and more esoteric reading material, which I consumed like fire. Through a series of books, I was able to pinpoint that I was trying to discipline myself into a still mind rather than allow it. I had issues with surrender (see above: abuse). I also realized that my lifelong association with the God I been handed as a child was getting in the way. No matter how much I tried, the meditation always felt like I was praying to God. So a few months after my youngest was born, I silently asked that worn-out God association to step back so that I could hear myself.

I got my wish the very next day. I recall what happened next so clearly.

It was a frigid February day, a world in white, bright winter sun on the latest batch of snow. I had been out doing errands with the baby, when he fell asleep in the car. I had an hour before I had to pick the older children up from school, and so I pulled into a nearby deserted park. I closed my eyes and asked for help meditating and asked for a sign that I was being heard. Within a few seconds, my entire being began vibrating as if someone were shaking my seat, and I felt a whoosh of heat and tension pulse through my body from my head to my toes. Then, it was as if I were in the middle of an internal fireworks display, as wave after wave of pastel colors gently burst inside my head and moved out in slowly undulating waves from the middle of my forehead into bigger and bigger concentric circles around my body. I had been translated into continuous waves of energy and I realized the illusion of my body's edges. As I later said to my husband, while it was glorious, I didn’t know if I had experienced a stroke, or had sudden onset Parkinson’s and a mental breakdown simultaneously. While it was happening, I was in pure ecstatic joy, but afterwards I felt I needed to be responsible about this—I mean, I was fairly sure it was a spiritual break though, but If it wasn’t, I probably needed a doctor.

As I was taking in all of these colors and sensations, I became aware of my head moving in a repetitive pattern, over and over again. And it dawned on me that the tip of my nose was like the tip of a pen, and my nose was writing a word over and over on an invisible surface. I focused and realized the word was, “Welcome.” I wish I could convey the sensation of love and relief I felt at that moment. It is comparable to the exact moment a woman gives birth: the excruciating pain and anticipation is over and you are flooded with a level of love and devotion you cannot comprehend for that baby. I had been birthed. I began to cry. My head began to move in a different pattern, and I realized the words were, “I am Peter.”

I gasped. “Peter?” As I scanned my memory of all my reading for what this might mean, a question formed in my head. “Are you my guide?”

“Yes,” was the reply. ”For now.”

Out of nowhere, I mentally asked, “How will I know?”

“Green,” was the reply. “See the green.”

Behind me, the baby coughed in his sleep and I was snapped out of my reverie. What had just happened? As I sat in that barren, windy, snow-covered parking lot digesting it all, I realized that right in front of my car was a stake with a green ribbon on it. I smiled. To my left was a vividly green trash can, and a pine tree, and for some reason, neither had any snow on them, when all the rest of were covered. What a coincidence. It was time to get the kids, and as I turned out of the park, a bright green VW pulled in, with a man in a lime green parka driving. In the three blocks to school I was inundated with green, but the most arresting thing happened once I arrived at school. My daughter ran towards me, then stopped cold right in front of me. She studied my eyes and said, “What happened? You look different.” Before I could answer, she shook off her seriousness and pulled something out of her backpack. “Mom, mom, look what I made in art!” It was a huge vibrant dog – and it was green. When we got home, I went through the motions of the normal afternoon routine: getting the kids a snack and settling down to homework. I flipped on my CD player, hit shuffle, and when I heard the first chords of Van Morrison's cover of "It Ain't Easy Bein' Green," I sat right down on the floor of the kitchen and howled with laughter. "Ok, I get it, it I get it!" I choked out. The kids clambered all over me, demanding to know what it was that I got. "I got a new friend," I said, and started a tickling all the feet I could find.

1: Get off the fence

“No more fence-sitting.”

This phrase has come up in numerous ways, with too much consistency and variety for me to ignore it anymore. The time has come to commit to the light, find my way back to myself and embrace all that I am – and all that I allow myself to be. If that sounds dramatic, well, it certainly feels dramatic. These are risky steps I am about to take, in a year that is fraught with risk and uncertainty for so many, so I know I am not alone, but I feel very much alone. Only I can do this, only I can make this choice. I offer my words as companionship to anyone who is facing similar doubts and fears. In the words of my very wise friend, “We have to do it alone, but we cannot do it alone.”

The original meaning of the Greek word mystic was, “I conceal.” If that doesn’t perfectly describe me, I don’t know what does. But the time for concealment is over.

In the modern sense, mysticism communicates a willingness to surrender to the mysteries, to look beyond data and the intellect for truth. It suggests altered states and a desire to experience oneness with the divine. It can mean receiving information beyond the usual methods. All of this is true for me. I channel the words of light beings, I can communicate with souls who have passed on, I can sense and know information about people and situations obtained beyond the five senses and three dimensions. How? Well, how did Mozart hear music, orDaVinci paint or these math savant children recall numbers? Inspiration through a particular ego. Same with me. I don't know if there are words to explain the “how” of all this, but I’ll try to explore my experience in in greater detail over time in this space.

Now, if I lived in a cabin in the woods, sending out some anonymous newsletter every month, my mystical tendencies would be far easier to manage. But I don’t, I live an extremely social and complicated life, with a lot of moving parts. I am a professional,  a (too) highly educated suburban wife and mother with an extremely conservative and religious extended family. My family, neighbors, colleagues and associates would not understand nor likely accept me if they knew about my mystical abilities. I have tested those waters, and have mostly run up against fear and judgement. No one beyond my husband and a few extremely close friends has any idea who I am really and what I believe I am here to do.

For many years I tried to inhabit both worlds. Be “normal” by day and let my weird skills fly in the wee hours of the morning. Fulfill my role and then tend to my soul. It was exhausting. A series of life events made it possible for me to gradually start shifting my time and energy, tending to what I now consider my real work more and more. Still, though I hid, and I still hide behind aliases of both the real and artificial kind. I have carefully orchestrated ways to help others in accepted ways. But it is not enough. It has become increasingly clear not only through the messages I channel, but also world events and the continual exhaustion I feel, that it is no longer appropriate for me try and control this information trying to come through me. It is time to take the cork out of the bottle. I am leaving behind the limits of ego to embrace the flow. This blog is my first step into my new life- which is really just a return to my first life, my original being.

When I truly began channeling, I was desperate for companionship, for comfort or wisdom from someone else’s story, but all I could find were books by those who had already passed that part of their journey and offered a brief and breezy summation of how they came to channel. Few seemed to struggle with what it meant for their social network and careers. So I offer my ongoing struggle with living out loud in hopes of making my anxiety and doubt useful for others just starting down this path. 

3. Syncing Up

It is a typical morning in my suburban home.  As my husband snores, the cat insistently paws me awake before dawn. I often accuse the cat of being my familiar; when I do, she just stares at me, bored at my lack of imagination, no doubt. I make my way down to the kitchen and begin my usual routine. I put on the coffee, and while I wait for it to brew, I let out the dog, bring in the paper and lay out breakfast things for our kids.  Then, mug in hand, I make my way to my study, sit down in my favorite chair, and while everyone is still asleep, I close my eyes and begin.

I greet them mentally, and immediately the pressure in my head changes, I am aware of a light source and my head starts to bob back and forth - tiny movements at first, then gradually expanding into larger circles until my head is smoothly moving in what I can only describe as infinity loops. Depending on the day, and my emotional state, this either goes on for a few seconds or a few minutes. If I am in a good mood, and feeling optimistic, then my vibration is high and fast and we can begin to converse right away. If I am down or tired, they need to bring me “up to speed,” so to speak, so that we can clearly communicate. Once my vibration is steady, my head stops, and I know it is time to receive. My team and I are in sync.

It is not prayer, for prayer is a generally framed as a request, or gratitude, or glorification.  What I do is more like a combination of roles: translator, secretary, pupil. I am a vessel. Every day, I receive information from what I will call spirit – the source of all life, all energy, all that is. Some prefer to use the term God. Allah, Buddha, Source, angels, energy, light, heat, sound. All are appropriate, all are accurate to a degree humanity can be accurate about something unknown, unseen, unquantifiable. What I mean is, we all tend to name things, ideas, concepts, whatever it may be, in an attempt to capture and control them. But you know that saying, the more you know the more you realize you don’t know? That certainly applies to me, to my understanding of source and love, and my spiritual evolution. So understand that from the beginning, please: I may talk to spirit, my friends, but I don’t know squat. None of us does, really, not while we are in our human suits, and basically, that’s the point. Embrace your ignorance and learn to love it.