I would't ever call myself a psychic, but there is something that is tuned in to “something” out there in me. I believe that psychic can turn it on or off at will—I cannot. Sometimes there is a feeling…that I “know” and whatever "that” is, runs in the family. My mother had it, my father had it, my grandmother had it, and I believe to some extent my older brother has it—but not the younger one, although he would like to. I don't talk about it really because it is what it is and it happens when it does. It's something I can't control so I don't make a big deal out of it.
Maybe you can call it a series of coincidences, but I don’t think so…I’ll give you a couple of examples…there was a time that my father needed to go somewhere and was taking the company car. As he got to the parking lot something told him to go back and get his keys. Instead of going where he was supposed to, he drove home only to find my mom sitting outside. When he asked her what was wrong, she said that she had locked herself out of the house.
My mom once had a bad dream that my father’s cousin’s house was on fire. She woke my dad up to tell him and as she was telling the story, the phone rang and it was my father’s cousin telling my mom that her house was on fire…
When I was in 7th grade I was out with friends and something kept telling me all night long that I was going to get hit by a car if I wasn’t careful—and two streets from home…it happened.
I think that was the first time that I could remember that it happened—I was 12. There have been many times in my life that his occurred…typically a have voice that tells me to start packing when I haven’t even considered a move and within 6-9 months, I no longer live where I had.
A few weeks ago I had a guy help me re-organize my garage. I picked up a nut and said "I'm going to need this in 5 minutes". And within a few moments I came across something that indeed needed that nut to hold a screw in place. He was stunned and kept repeating "you said you were going to need this in five minutes!" I just sort of played it off without much reaction because it wasn't a big deal to me.
Frequently, I’ll think of some across the county and within moments to 24 hours there is contact between us—initiated by the other party. I call it "whispering their name into the wind".
Sometimes it a quiet voice that lives right at the top of my stomach where my ribs come together—I can point to it—that’s where it is in me. Other times there are gnawing thoughts of a person that don’t go away. And I know that I know that there are people who come into my life for reason. Sometimes the reason is for me; sometimes the reason is for them. In fact I have a man who I cannot stop thinking about. There is so much about him that swirls in me. Soon after I met him I had heard him speak and believed in that moment that he was on a path that would ultimately lead him to his suicide. He laughed it off and laughed at me for voicing it; but I still believe that I am correct.
I tried to shake him by giving his daughter a voice through me with words she isn’t old enough to say about her pain of losing him…he wasn’t ready to hear it. That was about a year and a half ago…I’ve heard he is now on antidepressants and chose not to spend last Christmas with his daughter. He’s not ready to hear; he doesn’t want me in his life. And if I step back outside of myself, it isn’t any of my business and it’s his choice to keep me distanced... and yet the gnawing at me about him doesn’t end…so there has to be a reason…I don't know what it is; I may never know...
When I was conceived, my mother couldn’t believe that she was pregnant—she couldn’t imagine how it could have happened…and yet there I was. When she was dying we talked about it and she said to me that she didn’t know how or why until she was so close to the end—but she told me then that she felt God had sent her an angel in me.
I’ve frequently wondered as I suppose like most of us what our purpose was to be here on Earth; I didn’t have the privilege of having my own children and I’ve wondered if it was for those moments in time where I was able to save to a life. There was the little two year old girl named Tracey who was choking on an ice cube. There was Linda who overdosed when we were 13…those moments when being there mattered…watershed moments that changed the direction of the universe for those people that I've helped.
I’ve never been a big believer in “the secret” and calling in what you want to manifest into your life; but I know that women are spiritual. Women are spiritual centers. It seems to be counterintuitive to say this, but spirituality is hardwired in a woman. I believe that sage elders in my religion knew this and that is why it is the obligation of a mother—not a father to give religious training to her child. And I guess that also harkens the memory I have of my mother telling me that she asked her father about how she would know when the right man came along.
Her father told her she’d just know…maybe that feeling lived inside of her stomach, too.
And so I wrote a few blogs back about how I felt that I had fucked up, the end of the road, the end of my parents genetic material…that it had survived for thousands of years. My doctor calls me genetically superior; for it’s sensitivities that kept me away from poisons; for the slower heartbeat that would have needed very little food to survive during lean times; for being able to wear fleece jacket all winter long and need little heat… And all I've thought of is my people burned at the stake, physical torture, famine, the black death, chilling winters, displaced from their homeland…my genetics survived to this place and time and I fucked up.
I’ve mourned this little death in me many times. When I got sick at 34 and saw a high risk pregnancy doctor who told me that I had little chance of having a full term healthy pregnancy, a part of me died that day…it was my birthright to have had a child... I died again when I had the greatest love of my life with a man who told me he had his children young and didn’t want any more. I died again when I went through my changes and was no longer fertile...and this coming birthday will mark the end of the possibility of implanting an embro.
My genetics survived for generations and I carry with me the endless sadness of never having met my children or grandchildren…no nieces, no nephews…I wrote about, put it out there…and I have to wonder if “it” once again was metaphysically calling to me for the last few weeks….because just yesterday my brother was on the other end of the phone…
He told me that a man came to meet him from several states away and very much out of the blue told him that he didn’t know how to tell my brother, but believes that my brother is his biological father. A result of a two-night stand in college 35 years ago…cheeks were swabbed…results to follow… and the possibility of genetics passed…
Maybe you can call it a series of coincidences, but I don’t think so…I’ll give you a couple of examples…there was a time that my father needed to go somewhere and was taking the company car. As he got to the parking lot something told him to go back and get his keys. Instead of going where he was supposed to, he drove home only to find my mom sitting outside. When he asked her what was wrong, she said that she had locked herself out of the house.
My mom once had a bad dream that my father’s cousin’s house was on fire. She woke my dad up to tell him and as she was telling the story, the phone rang and it was my father’s cousin telling my mom that her house was on fire…
When I was in 7th grade I was out with friends and something kept telling me all night long that I was going to get hit by a car if I wasn’t careful—and two streets from home…it happened.
I think that was the first time that I could remember that it happened—I was 12. There have been many times in my life that his occurred…typically a have voice that tells me to start packing when I haven’t even considered a move and within 6-9 months, I no longer live where I had.
A few weeks ago I had a guy help me re-organize my garage. I picked up a nut and said "I'm going to need this in 5 minutes". And within a few moments I came across something that indeed needed that nut to hold a screw in place. He was stunned and kept repeating "you said you were going to need this in five minutes!" I just sort of played it off without much reaction because it wasn't a big deal to me.
Frequently, I’ll think of some across the county and within moments to 24 hours there is contact between us—initiated by the other party. I call it "whispering their name into the wind".
Sometimes it a quiet voice that lives right at the top of my stomach where my ribs come together—I can point to it—that’s where it is in me. Other times there are gnawing thoughts of a person that don’t go away. And I know that I know that there are people who come into my life for reason. Sometimes the reason is for me; sometimes the reason is for them. In fact I have a man who I cannot stop thinking about. There is so much about him that swirls in me. Soon after I met him I had heard him speak and believed in that moment that he was on a path that would ultimately lead him to his suicide. He laughed it off and laughed at me for voicing it; but I still believe that I am correct.
I tried to shake him by giving his daughter a voice through me with words she isn’t old enough to say about her pain of losing him…he wasn’t ready to hear it. That was about a year and a half ago…I’ve heard he is now on antidepressants and chose not to spend last Christmas with his daughter. He’s not ready to hear; he doesn’t want me in his life. And if I step back outside of myself, it isn’t any of my business and it’s his choice to keep me distanced... and yet the gnawing at me about him doesn’t end…so there has to be a reason…I don't know what it is; I may never know...
When I was conceived, my mother couldn’t believe that she was pregnant—she couldn’t imagine how it could have happened…and yet there I was. When she was dying we talked about it and she said to me that she didn’t know how or why until she was so close to the end—but she told me then that she felt God had sent her an angel in me.
I’ve frequently wondered as I suppose like most of us what our purpose was to be here on Earth; I didn’t have the privilege of having my own children and I’ve wondered if it was for those moments in time where I was able to save to a life. There was the little two year old girl named Tracey who was choking on an ice cube. There was Linda who overdosed when we were 13…those moments when being there mattered…watershed moments that changed the direction of the universe for those people that I've helped.
I’ve never been a big believer in “the secret” and calling in what you want to manifest into your life; but I know that women are spiritual. Women are spiritual centers. It seems to be counterintuitive to say this, but spirituality is hardwired in a woman. I believe that sage elders in my religion knew this and that is why it is the obligation of a mother—not a father to give religious training to her child. And I guess that also harkens the memory I have of my mother telling me that she asked her father about how she would know when the right man came along.
Her father told her she’d just know…maybe that feeling lived inside of her stomach, too.
And so I wrote a few blogs back about how I felt that I had fucked up, the end of the road, the end of my parents genetic material…that it had survived for thousands of years. My doctor calls me genetically superior; for it’s sensitivities that kept me away from poisons; for the slower heartbeat that would have needed very little food to survive during lean times; for being able to wear fleece jacket all winter long and need little heat… And all I've thought of is my people burned at the stake, physical torture, famine, the black death, chilling winters, displaced from their homeland…my genetics survived to this place and time and I fucked up.
I’ve mourned this little death in me many times. When I got sick at 34 and saw a high risk pregnancy doctor who told me that I had little chance of having a full term healthy pregnancy, a part of me died that day…it was my birthright to have had a child... I died again when I had the greatest love of my life with a man who told me he had his children young and didn’t want any more. I died again when I went through my changes and was no longer fertile...and this coming birthday will mark the end of the possibility of implanting an embro.
My genetics survived for generations and I carry with me the endless sadness of never having met my children or grandchildren…no nieces, no nephews…I wrote about, put it out there…and I have to wonder if “it” once again was metaphysically calling to me for the last few weeks….because just yesterday my brother was on the other end of the phone…
He told me that a man came to meet him from several states away and very much out of the blue told him that he didn’t know how to tell my brother, but believes that my brother is his biological father. A result of a two-night stand in college 35 years ago…cheeks were swabbed…results to follow… and the possibility of genetics passed…
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