The Beautiful Answer

The Bubbles of Eagle Rock

Sometimes, life takes you by surprise. You’re driving along a sunny Los Angeles street one afternoon, kind of spacing out, just enjoying the light bleeding over the horizon as the sun makes its way southward again. The radio may be on or off, it doesn’t really matter. Your fingers may be tapping the wheel a little, as you coast to a stop at the light. 

And then you see the bubbles, luminescent in the afternoon sun, a multitude of colors undulating back and forth as they make their way across the street. You see the kids then, doubled over with laughter, blowing as fast as they can until the entire street is filled with bubbles. You see them drifting across one lane then two and three until they’ve covered the cars in both directions. 

And the kids keep laughing, and people are actually making eye contact now, smiling at each other in their cars, at the kids giggling and blowing bubbles for their lives on their way home from school. There are so many of them, you can’t quite believe it. All those fragile bubbles, managing to stay together at once, almost like a squadron of little colored balloons. 

The kids have no idea what they’ve just done. They’re just trying to have a little fun between the boringness of here and the relief of there. Maybe you imagine that it’s the last day of school, and they’re looking forward to a summer of not much at all. 

But they crack our hearts open a little, and widen our surprise at the way life has a way of making us laugh and wonder and know there’s some force up there pointing out our innate connection, just so we don’t miss it. 

So Humbled to Be Part of This

Today I reached a milestone in more ways than one.  I’ve mentioned before that I am a writer, and have been doing this professionally (i.e., getting paid for it) for better than 15 years. I’m also a reader and healer, and have been doing this professionally (again, getting paid for it in a regular basis) for even longer. Sometimes, none of that matters, like today. 

I have been on the radio a lot more these days, to talk about Searching for Sassy, a new e-book I’m releasing called Astrology for Foodies, and a workshop I’m teaching on Intuitive Dating. That’s given rise to a pretty big surge in new clients as well. I’m getting people from England, Holland, California, Japan, Australia and New Zealand, and other parts of Europe. Even got a new client from the Cayman Islands yesterday — pretty neat. 

Let me say for anyone who doesn’t know that that it can be jarring to meet so many new people every day if you’re intuitive. You’re picking up on all sorts of energy and have to read it while talking (hard enough) and then make sure you’re making sense to your client (harder still), all the while toggling back and forth from this world to the other. But every once in a while, you meet someone you’re clearly so destined to meet, where your skill set, manner and belief system are so clearly meant to come into contact with someone else’s that it’s like two trains running toward each other on the same track. 

I don’t want to mention this person’s name, to protect his privacy. Suffice it to say that like many people, he was moving through a crisis, a time of great upheaval and tumult. I meet a lot of people like that and have learned to get out of the way and let them have their process. I can’t solve everything. All I can do is apply my skills and hope for the best. So I did, and he healed somewhat, becoming lighter and lighter as I talked to him. 

By the end, he claimed to be a skeptic who had heard me on the radio and, as he became overwhelmed and began to cry, said he knew when he heard my voice that I was the one who had to deliver a message about his healing and growth through this tough time. O … M … G. 

Cut to me dropping to my knees, emotionally speaking.

It’s not about me. I repeat; it’s not about me. I am a vessel for the divine. Its various aspects operate through my body and mind on a daily basis. It’s such a tough thing to even get across, after so long doing this. But I am so damn humbled to be part of this process, so grateful to be right here, right now, to help one more person move through the pain and back into the light. 

I strive to be helpful, to be of service, and hope that I am. 

Looking Up

Doing radio and print ads over the past few weeks, I’ve been asked again and again how you know you’re psychic, how you know you’re good enough to practice professionally, and how you know that what you’re seeing and experiencing has any practical use in someone’s life. 

The thing is, knowing and sensing are two separate things. But where they intersect is the place I work every day. 

I knew I was psychic when I was a kid. I saw stuff on my wall, projected almost like a movie. These “movies” had people I had never seen, places I had never been, and images I had no way of knowing about at the tender age of 5. It wasn’t until I was an adolescent that I realized, after reading a lot of books, that I was naturally intuitive, and could develop that gift into something more. What it needed, like anything, was something to look up to. 

If you’re trying to develop a skill, you want to be around people who are better than you, who can challenge you and in doing so, increase your hunger to be better. I was lucky enough to land at a job at a phone psychic line, where I met really talented people working in a variety of fields. They pushed me, as did the callers, to keep reaching outward, to believe in what I had but strive to see more, feel more, and hear more from the universe at large. And I still do this. I try to be around people who are not just challenging, but have something to teach me. Whether that’s a skill, a life lesson or something else, I want to always be looking up, up, up to the best person I can be during this incarnation. After all, why would I want to be anyone else? 

Transcendence To Go

Sometimes you find transcendence when you’re not even looking for it. I love it when that happens. The last couple of days haven’t been easy. They’ve taught me a lot, and caused me to set a new long-term course in my life. So bad news/good news there.

Once I experience pain, I’m so busy wanting to feel better, trying to work through whatever’s made me fall off the happiness wagon, that I don’t expect anything. I hope that the painful stuff starts to dissipate, and my worn-out eyes start to focus on what’s good about my life again. It’s like I’m a giant focusing telescope, and I have to swing myself around to face a completely different landscape.

So when I find something that at first seems accidental, it’s like the universe has sent me a little gift. That’s what happened when I ran across this poem in a magazine today: 

“What is it you want to change? Your hair, your face, your body? Why? For God is in love with all those things and He Might weep when they are gone.”

— St. Catherine of Siena

It felt like someone had hosed me down with liquid nitrogen. I froze, feeling my blood shock my veins. My perceptions froze as well, as time seemed to slow down and the song on the radio began to assume a grander sort of importance. With all my senses hanging in the balance, I saw beyond the moment — to healing, to new moments, to challenges, love, acceptance and total integration. I saw beauty and forgiveness, and true understanding of what these times of doubt really are — opportunities to continue. Nothing more, nothing less.

If You’re Happy & You Know It

…clap your hands, right? Or maybe make up a silly rhyme or blab along to the radio or jump up and down for no other reason than you have energy running through your body and you have to find some purpose for it to exist.

If you’re happy and you don’t know it, what does it look like?  Boredom? Anger? Frustration?

I’m going to go out on a limb here, but most people seem, at least from the outside, like they’re unhappy. They buy things thinking their lifestyle will somehow change, just from the sheer shift in ownership. They cut each other off in traffic and flip each other the bird. They do mean things and laugh about it, secure and safe behind their firewalls.

Meh. I don’t care from unhappiness today. I saw eight or nine birds sitting on a wire and imagined them singing this song, courtesy of the Monkees, which never fails to make me smile:

Reframing the unhappiness around you, the constant need to start a conversation with a complaint or a story with a “downer,” is as simple as tuning in to the 60s, when things were ridiculously sunny on the radio. This time, more than any other, makes me think of being in the back of my mom’s car, sipping a Slurpee and driving to baseball practice. The dust rose into the slant of sunset from the impressions of a few dozens cleats, and light spread over our heads like halos.

Who can be angry when a thing like that is possible?

(Source: youtube.com)