I have the most bitchin’, fantabulous hubby a chick could ever want! After years of dating both dreamboats and douche nozzles, how did I snag this delightful specimen when I was at the ripe old age of 32? Well, here are the 3 actions I took……
The very first action I took was no longer giving a shit if I was married. Before Jim, I was with the dude I thought would be my matrimonial mate–oh my goodness, he was divine, our relationship was sublime, and the wedding bells were ringing loudly in my ears-DING! DONG! DING! DONG! In reality, the only ding dong in this picture was me; our fire fizzled for reasons still unknown to me now (almost 20 years later), I ended it, and commenced on my path of Being A Bitter Bitch Toward All Those with a Penis. Matrimony, schmatrimony-I tossed that idea right into the crapper.
Most days, my life as a psychic medium is fairly standard. Read energy, spirit guides show up (or don’t), “dead” people talk (or don’t), and on down the line. There are mighty comical moments, heartbreaking conversations, maybe aliens show up as spirit guides, but the process itself remains the same. Nothing bizarre typically occurs with me, either, as I do this thing called life. Except yesterday. That 16 hour period of existence after rising and shining was unlike anything else I have witnessed.
Now what can be so damn strange to someone who routinely chats with animals? This. This is what was so damn strange: spontaneous moments of how I died in past lives just showing up out of the blue. Vividly.
As I pondered my inspiration for this blog, a phrase from my Nicheren Buddhist practice popped into my brain. “Changing poison into medicine.” Same concept as making lemonade when Life hands ya a large bag of lemons, but with a twist: Sometimes we don’t know what is poison, and what is medicine. My topic isn’t about merely making the best of a bad situation–it is about viewing those lemons in an entirely different light. “Oh joy,” you think, “I am tired of being an old bitch (or bastard) today. What might this brilliant author (snort!!!) have to teach me?”
There be a bevy of merde hitting the fan currently. I do not update myself regularly about the antics of the stars and moon and planets, but I do know they affect us. I am unsure if we can blame them (thank them?) for the situation at hand, or what the deal is precisely. All I am aware of is that many, many of us are leaving behind life as we knew it, releasing old gunk that has held us back, and are experiencing birthing pains of our new selves. Now I never popped an offspring, but I can’t say it looks like a walk in the park. And neither is this period of time.
Animal communication is a very rewarding to share with families. It is also hysterically funny at times. Here are some good giggles I have gotten over the years.
Having my tit mistaken for a squeaky toy ranks right up there! The dog was out of his wee marbles with bliss that we were going to talk, and also feeling anxious. As his stout body swirled in a circle next to me, attempting to climb onto my leg and slobber all over my head, he suddenly chomped down onto one of mine bosoms. I flopped back onto the couch and lost it cackling!
We all grieve. If we are lucky enough to love, we gotta take the painful with the pleasant. Many folks would like to reconnect with their loved ones who have “bought the farm” (a small town euphemism for dying) , but are scared silly of what exactly will happen when they finally have that opportunity. Is my loved one going to be crabby at me because I wore something ugly to their funeral? Are they gonna ride my ass about the way I am living my life? Will they suddenly appear from the ethers and goose me? Nahhhhh….it’s pretty much a regular old conversation. Except–you are in your body, your loved one isn’t.
So here’s the scoop about what happens when you sit across from me, awaiting the connection to Grandma, the dog, whomever: First thing I do is spin my head around on my neck like a top and yak green pea soup all over the wall. JUST JOKING! Hollywood paints all things related to spirits as some horrifying, gruesome affair. They would be wrong.
Well, now, that surely is a cheerful title, isn’t it? But, them words is truth. You will never have to do anything in your lifetime except pay taxes and kick the bucket. Well, you can screw the IRS if you are so inclined, but the Grim Reaper–sorry, that boy has ya by the booty. We are all going to die.
I bring this up because many of us have are waiting to be happier. Waiting for the right partner, waiting for that big promotion, waiting for our hemorrhoids to heal, etc, and so on. Always. Waiting. To. Feel. Joy. Don’t put off feeling joy another minute because you have no guaranteed amount of time in your current bag of bones.
I have been meditating for many moons, and for the most part, nothing has struck me as too terribly odd….except for the time I felt like I had been punched in the gut, but that is a story for another day.
When I see my guides, I view their faces and sometimes the tops of their “body”. They just kinda show up, no big fanfare, or fireworks–it’s simply “Yo! I’m here!” They always appear in my third eye (my inner movie screen, if you will), and every visit is pretty much standard-same thing occurs each time.
Unfortunately, I felt compelled to pen a Part 2 on this topic. I want consumers to be well-educated on choosing a quality energy reader.
So here is what popped into my head since last week: the psychic should be able to provide extremely detailed information about you and your life. If they are continually stumbling along and acting like everything is hunky dory when they ain’t getting shit or shinola right, then ask them if they can read you. Continue reading “How to Spot a Scamming Psychic, Part 2”→
The other day I happened to spot this ad whilst I was out tra la la-ing about. Warning bells screeched in my mind as I finished reading it, and I shook my head in disgust. I knew that this would be the basis for a blog informing readers how to know when you have a stinker of a psychic in front of you.
Gosh darn, where do I even begin with this? (Scratches head.)
I shall commence with the phrase “wishes and prayers answered.” Dear reader, only YOU, yes, YOU, can answer your own wishes and prayers. Yes, you can meditate, chant, pray, positively vibrate, etc., but you must do something in order for anything to occur–even if that something is merely a thought coupled with intention. Thoughts are some powerful little boogers, but that is a topic for another day. It boils down to the fact that absolutely no other human is going to answer your wishes and prayers in a way that absolves you of the responsibility of running your own show.