Although clichés, there are two phrases that (to me) sum up a fundamental truism about people: Everyone is different; never judge a book by its cover.

What those two statements mean to me is that you never know what someone will do in a given situation. You’ll never know why someone reacts the way they do, and no two people will act or react in quite the same way.

This is because unless you can see beneath the surface of someone and know all the major events of their current life and any previous lives that are impacting this current life, you’ll never be able to easily understand why someone acted as they did.

One of my life’s goals has been to try to understand people and their motivations. I read newspapers, watch TV news, and read news items on the web all in an attempt to help me understand people and their motivations.

I’m aided in this by my ability to see that subsurface, to see and know that information that most people aren’t privy to—I can read auras and energies, so I can see what possible incidents in a person’s past might influence them, and I can sense the emotions that were in play at the time (and currently), and I can see what personality filters are impacting their lives. (Personality filters are things like role—there are 7 of them: 3 action-oriented, 3 cerebral, and 1 neutral; attitude, major Achilles heel, goal, centering—and for each there are 7.)

All of this information is written throughout a person’s aura; it’s where you can find the “rest of the story” regarding a person. See, when I look at someone, I see them, but I also see an overlay of information (7 levels of information, actually). I see 7 layers of colors, colors that indicate their emotional health (mood), spiritual health, mental health, physical health, their true self (the role, attitude, mode, etc.), their past lives that are impacting this life, and their current and future possible paths.

That’s a lot of information, but I’ve been seeing all of these layers when I look at people my entire life, so for me it takes only moments to process the “important” pieces like mood, health, and role. The other information comes if I spend time with them, touch them (such as in a hug), or take time to do a reading on them.  And it’s the whole package of information that usually helps me understand someone–I mean really understand them.

How many times have you read an article in the paper or heard something on the radio about some seemingly senseless and random crime and wondered, Why? Why did that person do that? Why did the victim not try to defend themselves? What was the attacker/victim thinking?

But maybe if you could see what I can see in regards to that person, you might find out that the crime wasn’t so random or senseless. That maybe there was an imbalance that was resolved by the crime, or maybe there was an imbalance created. Perhaps there was a lesson being learned by all the people involved. (Did you know that we sometimes choose to be involved in incidents such as robberies, purse snatchings, plane crashes, fires and such either as the victim or the perpetrator so that we can learn? Yep…not every crime is as random as it appears.)

But even with all the information I have at my disposal; even with all the layers of information that each of us provides, I have yet to answer these questions:  How did someone like Pares Hilton become such a celebrity? and Why are reality TV shows such as the Kardashians or the Cake Boss still on TV?

As far as I can tell, the only thing they have in common is that they make a spectacle of people behaving badly, and personally, I get enough of that from everyday life. I really don’t need to watch it on TV (and I don’t), but I really do wish I could read some of the people who do watch these types of things, just so I can figure out why they like them so much. 😉


Shattered…with love

Last night when I tried to take a water glass out of the sink, it shattered. It simply fell apart in my hand.

It startled me, and at the same time, it made me think about how often we choose to let ourselves get to a point where we become so stressed, so caught up with worrying about the unknown and the might be, that we become frigid with fear. So, frigid, in fact, that just one little thing could shatter us.

Every day I see them, the people so caught up in their fears, so focused on worrying, and I wonder how anyone can live like that? I want so much to help them, yet how do you get someone to choose to let go of their fears and focus on the fun? To focus on the laughter of life? Because stress, worry, fear, laughter, fun, and joy are all choices—choices that each of us makes.

So many people don’t know how to manage stress, and yet we each choose what to stress about. Stress isn’t something that is caused by external factors; stress isn’t caused by other people (although their actions and choices may contribute if we let them). We each choose what situations we want to face; we each choose how we will react to those situations.

For example, perhaps you got up late this morning. You can choose to stress about it and let it cascade into a series of irritations that end up as one huge stress-filled morning or day, or you can decide to simply adapt to the fact that you’re starting later than usual and flow with it. Stress or acceptance—it’s your choice.

Maybe you hear that some changes are coming in your department at work and you start worrying about it. How will it affect me, my position? Will it affect my promotion, my bonus? And pretty soon you’re so overwrought you can barely think, let alone function, and to what end? Has it made the transition of the change any easier? Has it given you any insight into what changes are coming? No to all of these.

So, while I may not be a complete advocate of Bobby McFerrin (“Don’t Worry, Be Happy”), I think he’s on a more balanced path than most people.

Each of chooses whether to worry and stress, or to laugh and have fun. So, why don’t more people choose fun? Why do so many choose a cold dark room when a warm, sunlit one is right next door? And then I realized…they don’t know that the warm, sunlit room is right next door. They can’t see it. Their focus is so narrow, that they only see what’s immediately in front of them. If I want them to know that they have another choice; if I want them to see that they can choose fun and laughter, then I have to somehow help them see that that choice is available.

Not an easy task, especially when someone doesn’t want to see. I might be able to reach out and convince some to look around and find the light, but what about the others? How could I possibly leave anyone out there in that cold, dark, inhospitable place? How could I make them understand that there was something better just a few feet over?

And then I realized…I was doing it to myself. I was choosing to worry about things I had little to no control over. I can’t MAKE people do anything. I can help to provide alternatives, I can offer road signs, and assistance, but I can’t MAKE anyone follow the alternative paths I offer, I can’t MAKE them read the signs I put up.

No, all I can do is follow the sunlight, follow the laughter, and make sure I scatter the path with lots of love and joy. And when I see someone heading for that cold, unlit room, I can offer them a hand or hug, and hope that I warm them up enough to keep them from shattering.

Share a hug with someone today 😉

This Ol’ House…

I asked for guidance the other night just before falling asleep because I felt as if I were missing something. I felt as if I had been climbing the stairs and missed a step and stumbled.

So, last night the dogs came again, the white one and one of the brown ones. Both were friendly and playful, and seemed genuinely happy to be with me.  With their arrival, the scene around me focused itself, and I found we were back in the tatty ol’ house (see Following the Path of Life). However, there were no feelings of negativity, just feelings of expectation from me, and joyfulness from the dogs.

I finished climbing the stairs to where the dogs were waiting in the third floor corridor. This corridor was dim, more shadow than light, and it didn’t look as if anyone had been there in quite a while.

We headed to the right, and almost immediately on the left was an open door. The room beyond was empty, dusty, with as little light as in the corridor. Both the dogs scampered into and through the room, their tails wagging. I followed, noting a few dust bunnies that skittered away as I walked through.

We were now back in the same corridor we had left, although we had gone out a door opposite the corridor. I looked behind me and realized that we had come miles, and I could no longer see the stairway where I had entered this floor. This part of the corridor was lighter than where we started, and it was nice to be able to see where I was going for a change.

We walked until we came to a three-way junction. The dogs paused and suddenly I wasn’t feeling as assured. I looked toward the dogs as if asking which way, but the white one just sat there with a grin on its face, and the brown one, which was pacing back and forth, never looked at me. Since they were providing no help, I tried to make up my own mind about which way to go.

I looked toward the left path, and it was so dark I couldn’t see anything once the light from the intersection faded away. To the right, the path was lit about the same as where I was standing. However, the path made an immediate left turn and although it seemed as if the light might brighter once it did, I couldn’t really tell much about it because of the sharp turn. I peered down the corridor straight ahead and I saw miles and miles of the same corridor I’d been traveling. There were lots of doors, some open, some closed, but the light level didn’t appear to change.

I looked down at the dogs, who were both circling me now, and the white one whimpered at me and looked straight ahead, while the brown one sat, his nose in the air as if scenting for something. Obviously, it was up to me to choose. I looked straight ahead, and then I looked right. The dogs hadn’t moved, so I struck out toward the right.

The dogs raced ahead as if having a great time. They frolicked with each other and nipped at each other’s heels. I made the sharp turn and found myself back in the main corridor again. However, I was so far down the hallway that I could barely see the junction I was just at moments before.

I came to three doors: one open, one partially open, and one that appeared to have been closed for a very long time. As I stood there, I noticed that the closed door had long streamers of cobwebs in front of it. The dogs stopped and again waited for me to choose. Although I could see lots of light coming through the open and partially open doorways, I found myself reaching toward the closed door.

The dogs, who had been sitting patiently at my feet, sprang up and began dancing excitedly about. I pushed away the cobwebs and opened the door. The brown dog dashed through the door into the brightness. For a moment I was unable to see because the light was so bright. When my eyes adjusted, though, I saw the brown dog lying on the floor, waiting for me to rub his belly. With the white dog beside me, I stepped inside and squatted down next to the brown dog. When I began rubbing his tummy, the white dog started licking my face.

At that moment I awoke with a large grin on my face and an all encompassing feeling of peace and happiness.

Evidently, while I had gotten off the path a bit, my guide and my desires were basically on the same path. And if I continued on that path, I would reach my life’s goal (goals that I, in essence, have established for myself in this lifetime). At one point, I followed desire rather than essence, but evidently it was only a small detour and led me right back to where I needed and wanted to be anyway.

I know that in the past several years, I have begun focusing more on the state of my own being (physical and spiritual) rather than on the dramas of the world at large. I feel as if that journey, that focus, has brought me more insights and more awareness than all the life dramas thus far. I know it has allowed me to start some of the repairs on that neglected ‘building’, and hopefully soon, that ‘building’ will no longer appear so abandoned and forlorn.

My Backyard Airport

My backyard is as busy as an international airport, but thankfully, not as noisy. As I prune back some of the winter-ravaged plants, I am surrounded by this flying traffic of bumble bees, honey bees, butterflies, humming birds, wrens, thrushes, and (my favorites) dragonflies.

I’m not sure why, but I’m thoroughly fascinated by dragonflies. It’s not just their beautiful jeweled colorings, after all the butterflies and hummingbirds are no slouches in that area. No, it’s more in the way they move. It seems so random and yet so intense, as if they are determined to get somewhere, but suddenly can’t remember where it was they were going. (I do that quite often myself.)

Several of them dash into the yard and zip left. Suddenly they stop. Hovering over the hibiscus bush, which is just starting to show some green, they appear to be contemplating the best route to take. The next minute they’re off, darting straight up, only to stop once they reach the tree tops. Again, they seem momentarily lost, until they finally zip over towards the neighbor’s yard.

In my mind, I picture the ladybugs, who act as air traffic controllers, up in the tower (located at the top of my trellis) all shaking their heads in frustration as the dragonflies once again ignore their directions. Yet amidst this busy airspace, the dragonflies still managed to miss all the other traffic, a feat that impresses me as much as it frustrates the ladybugs.

I resume my inspection and pruning of the winter-damaged plants, and I note that the windflowers and marigolds are getting ready to bloom, at least those in the south flower beds. I also spot some sprouts of green on the Mexican petunia, and smile—I was almost sure that this winter’s freezes had done them in.

As I reach out to trim back some of the dead leaves from my Bird of Paradise plants, one of the red dragonflies lands on the handle of my pruner. We study each other, neither of us moving. Then flit. He’s off again. I see him hovering near the ti plant, as if to say, “You need to prune this one, too.” A moment later, he turns and zip, he disappears.

I prune, and dig, and trim some more, until tired and sweaty I pull off my gloves and head towards the lanai (a fancy term for deck). I settle into one of the chairs and admire the sprouts of spring now more visible since I cleaned out the deitrus of winter, and I smile.

Gazing skyward, I watch the air show taking place above me. Butterflies soar gracefully overhead. I follow the path of one blue butterfuly and one swallowtail butterfly as they sail across the lawn together. They veer ever so slightly, their path taking them to the orange tree near the fence, where they flutter around the orange blossoms that smell so wondrously.

Two dragonflies dart into view, one yellow and one green. When they stop to take in their surroundings, a hummingbird swoops between them. The hummingbird dashes over to the hibiscus bush, and then pauses to fill up at several of the blooms.

The dragonflies have disappeared for the moment, but a hawk cries out it’s opinion of the show as it soars across the sky heading for a nearby tree top. An owl hoots approval from the forest at the back of our property, but doesn’t make an appearance, and a large woodpecker applauds by pounding a tree.

Several of the air traffic controlling ladybugs alight on the screening enclosing the lanai, and begin walking up to the roof. While the honey bees busily check out the few flowers that are blooming.

Zip; flit; float; soar; buzz; hover. Flit; zip; soar; float; hoot; buzz. Float; hover; hoot; tat-tatta-tat; zip; flit. As the airport traffic continues to fill my backyard, I doze off and dream of dragonflies, darting and zipping randomly, but with purpose, across the yard.

The Book of Knowledge

I was sitting on the grass, the sun warming my back while the trees murmured to each other. A gentle breeze caressed my cheek and the droning of bees filled the air. Although, I noted all of this on one level, I didn’t really notice it at all. The book in my lap occupied my complete attention, holding me, captivating me. Fascinated, I clung to every word.

It wasn’t a romance or mystery, not even a thriller or horror story–although, it did have some of all those elements within in it. No, this book was different, completely different from anything I had ever read before. It wasn’t put out through some regular publishing house; it wasn’t an e-book, or paper book. When I say this book was different, I truly meant it.

As I read through it, I felt rightness about the world and universe. It was as if each word only confirmed what I already knew. There was so much truth and wisdom packed into this thin, white volume, that I was amazed. How could this little book contain so much?

I couldn’t stop reading. Each word was a delight. Each sentence was a treat that filled my senses and teased my mind. Each page filled my mind with a million thoughts and ideas. They flooded through me, rolled over me, and barreled on past as I tried desperately to hang on to them. Every unique idea burst through me like a barrage of sky rockets, and I felt as if I were soaring high above the world.

My eyes moved down the page, and my mind continued to buzz and thrum with all the delightful insights that each sentence called forth from my being. Where had this book been hiding. Why hadn’t I found it until now? Everyone needed to read this book, I thought as I pulled my eyes from the page and smiled up at the butterflies soaring above me. 

I thought of all the people who could be helped just by reading any portion of this magnificent writing; of all the wars and other violent situations that could be averted if people would just read from this book. It was dumbfounding that more people hadn’t learned what I had simply from the few moments I had spent reading this book. Every person should have their own copy, I murmured to myself. Just think how wonderful the world would be if we all read from this book and were awakened to the knowledge and understanding of how things worked–a secret that hides within all of us.

Each of us carries the knowledge, the wisdom to do no harm. Yet every day we ignore that wisdom and go out and do as we please, regardless of who or what we hurt. Yet, I knew that if we all read even just a few pages from this book, that the rate of hurtfulness would drop significantly. How could it not? The information was all right here–all anyone had to do was read the first page and they, too, would see the truth, both within themselves and within the book.

I stood, my finger caught in the book, holding my place, and I looked toward the house. I needed to make as many copies of this book as possible, so everyone would have a chance to see what I had seen. As I glided through the grass toward the house, I suddenly awoke. Finding myself in the darkness of my bedroom, I cried out.

I sat up in the bed and searched frantically for the book I had moments before been holding in my hands. But, of course, it wasn’t there. It had just been a dream. There was no actual “book”, there was only the information that each of us carries within ourselves. Not that this makes the information any less valid, but it does make it harder to share. After all, a physical book can be copied, or given away, or read to others. But how does one share the information that is “written” only on their own soul?

Each of us carries within us their own version of this “book”. The “trick” is finding the key to unlock that information ,thereby making it available to yourself (and, if you like, to others). You see, everyone is different. While some people will never look inside and recognize that they have a copy of this “book”, others may see it and never “read” it. 

This book of knowledge is hidden away within the library of your soul, but the librarian is adept at inducing fear, because she doesn’t want you to know the secrets within this book. For some people, she is so fearsome that they will never enter the library, let alone check out the book hidden inside there. Others may sneak into the library and find the book, but then be frightened away by the librarian before they can figure out what the book says. Some others may actually get a glimpse inside that book and know that it holds great wisdom and truth, but still be too afraid of the librarian to stay very long. But a few, like me, will brave the librarian, proving to themselves that she is not as fearsome as she would like you to think; and in doing so, manage to remove the book long enough to read the entire thing–cover to cover. And once read, they will find that life will never be the same, because they have discovered something wondrous–about themselves, about the world, and about everyone they know.

Whichever one of these you may be is fine, because not everyone needs to seek out their book of knowledge, nor does everyone need to read every passage within the book. Everyone is different, and everyone is on different paths, so when the time is right, you will find your book and you will read whatever passage or page you need to in order to continue on with your life. But if you’re lucky (because I consider myself lucky to have read the entire book and to have remembered most of it), you too, will read and remember every morsel of that book, and you, too, will find your life changed because of it.

It’s a fascinating and enlightening read, and I hope each of you gets the chance to at least sample some of the writings in your own book of knowledge some day.

Following the Path of Life

All my life when I ask for guidance regarding the best path for me to be following through life (that path which helps me grow spiritually, not gain material possessions), I’m usually visited by one or more burly, bear-cub-sized dogs. These dogs always appear during my sleep periods and they either lead me somewhere or just stay with me and make me feel better.

The primary dog is white, but sometimes there is one or two others that accompany the white one and these are usually brown. I see the colors as indicators of what the dogs represent: the white one is my guide, my true guide, while the brown one(s) represent different aspects of myself, such as want/desire or instinct. Therefore, sometimes the white dog, the guide, will show me a path, but the brown dog will balk or whine because my desires or wants aren’t always in line with what I really need to do.

I’ve come to recognize that if I’m on the best path for me, then we don’t go anywhere. We simply frolic, play, and enjoy our time together. Most times, though, I find myself actually following the white dog as it leads me down one path to another, or down one path to a clearing or small house.

The brown dog(s), if they are present, will docilely surround me and follow along, but occasionally they will whine or snarl abut a choice that the white dog is showing me. Still it is the white dog that I follow, at least during these periods; after all, I asked for guidance and that is what the white dog provides. But by noting the actions of the brown dogs, I know that I may have to struggle to reach the path being shown to me, because the part of me that loves the drama of physical life isn’t real keen on going that way.

Sometimes the path appears tranquil, yet realistic, and I’ll see a dirt, gravel, or bark-covered path meandering through fields or woods, with sunbeams shining down and a touch of spring or summer in the air. Other times the path appears more menacing, filled with large boulders and other pit falls, wending its way through dark, creepy forests, and over rickety bridges, or sometimes there are no bridges and I have to ford through rough rivers of cold murky waters.

I’ve come to recognize those forest paths as representatives of my wanderings through this life of drama and unreality. Whenever I was concerned about a job or a relationship, the dogs would come and, in their way, show me either that things were okay, or that I needed to move on. It’s always been that way, and I’ve grown to rely on them.

Lately, the paths we’ve been following have changed—not the purpose, and not my reliance and trust, but the paths themselves no longer wend through outdoorscapes of forests, fields, or cities. Instead, I now find myself wandering through long, winding, and dimly let, neglected corridors filled with doors of various colors,  sizes, and shapes. Some doors are open, others only partially so, and many others are closed and covered with cobwebs. The whole atmosphere is of some long-forgotten and tatty old mansion that no one has visited or cared for in years.

I know the building, the tatty old mansion, is me. The abandoned feeling and the neglected air is because I spent too much time focused outward, and not nearly enough looking inward. The rooms are aspects of me or of my life that either were explored and abandoned or are better left unexplored. These are dark areas, areas not of life and light, but areas of death, despair, and darkness; however, being prone to bouts of the blues, I can sometimes be fooled into thinking that I deserve the darkness. So, I will follow the dimly lit corridor to the rooms of darkness, the rooms of depression; I will follow my wants and my desires, rather than my guide.

Usually when my guide comes, though, I find the strength to leave behind my wants and desires and follow the guide. However, I wonder how many people can’t hear or see their guides? How many folks get lost in their own dark rooms and never see the guides who try to show them the way back to the light? Could it be that perhaps they don’t recognize their guides?

I would hope that everyone would learn to recognize those of us who try to help you find the best path for you, or lead you across to the transitional plane so that you can move on with your lessons, or meet with someone that you would otherwise not connect with. However, it’s not always easy to tell who your guides are. So just remember, the next time you dream of someone or something trying to show you an exit from a gloomy room, a path leading from a desert to a garden, a golden stairway, or anything even similar, listen, follow, and trust.

Grab a Cup of Tea and Enjoy…

I’ve been reading three new and interesting blogs lately. (At least I find them interesting, and if you take the time to check them out, I hope you do, too.)

One is a description of life in a small South African village (Slowvelder). The author, Jackie, creates a beautiful and, oftentimes, amusing picture of life in this new (for her and her family) environment. The stories are punctuated with some equally fascinating photos that act like diamonds on a tiara, adding sparkle and shine. Her wit and wisdom bring smiles to my face as she describes some of the pains and pleasures of this new life of hers.

Through her words and stories we can all share in the discoveries and the struggles of starting over. But most of all, her stories show me that no matter who we are or where we live, we all have the same basic values and needs, we all have the same basic struggles in life, and we all need a sense of humor to make it through.

Another blog I’m finding fascinating is Exquisite Transitions. Her quiet insights into the psychology of her own situations has given me a new perspective on my own life. In fact, her latest entry having to do with tax season is witty and clever, and she makes just too easy to picture yourself in the same situation.

The third one that I have begun to read is called the Lightworker’s blog.  She, like me, has the gift of knowing. Also like me, she isn’t afraid to let people know who she is and what she can do. Her blog reveals another perspective on the world I have spent my whole life in, a world of ESP, psychometry, visions,  and planing. We both share a similar knowledge, but because her background is different from mine, she has a different slant on things, and this is what I find so fascinating. My philosophical insights are built on my experiences as well as my readings of Cayce, Jane Roberts, and the Messages from Michaels series, while her insights, which also come from her experiences, seem to extend to some of the more traditional philosophies (Bhuddism, Confucionism, etc.). It is the philosophical differences that help me view things from a different perspective and help me keep my mind open and thinking.

Anyway, I recommend trying any or all of these different story tellers because they can help open your mind, expand your mind, or (most of all) just make you smile. 

So, grab a cup of tea and power up your PC…there’s some interesting reading out there for you.