Friday, November 30, 2012

2 more chapters of my book (3 & 4)

Embarrassing moments 


Years ago, I was having breakfast at a local eatery as part of my usual routine.  While enjoying my meal, I noticed that a nearby table had not been bussed, a task that customers were expected to perform for themselves at this particular place.  I saw that this careless customer had not only left behind their clutter, but also a half-eaten sausage biscuit.  My dog Opie was waiting in the car, and I felt that he would enjoy having that biscuit for his breakfast.  The restaurant was full, yet the surrounding booths were empty.  So, finishing my breakfast quickly and gathering all of my rubbish onto my tray, I walked by the table, gazing intently ahead.  While balancing my tray on one hand, I surreptitiously slipped the abandoned sandwich off the plate and into my pocket, and kept right on walking without missing a beat.  After disposing of my tray, I walked toward the door smiling happily, thinking of the wonderful treat Opie would soon receive.  On the way, I passed a nice smiling businessman headed back to his table.  He nodded and I smiled.  He was obviously returning to his breakfast after refilling his cup of coffee.  Suddenly, I realized that he was returning to an empty plate, and that his breakfast was riding cozily hidden in my pocket.  My joy turned to fear and embarrassment, but all I could do was to keep walking.  I jumped in my car, and as I looked back, I saw the poor man at the counter wildly waving his arms and the waitress sadly shaking her head.  The truly sad part is that Opie snubbed the biscuit.
I would like to say that I have improved with age.  However, that is not the case.  Some time ago, a nice man was coming by for a visit.  This man is quite attractive, and while neither of us is available, I still was slightly more aware of my femininity.  I was wearing a sweater that was v- necked and tended to become looser as I became warmer.  I thought about changing into something more subdued, since I am quite blessed in the bosom, but decided against it as I was busy cleaning house and taking phone calls all morning.  “Besides,” I thought, “Who cares if someone sees a little cleavage?  I am not so old yet.”
  Finally, my visitor arrived and I answered the door.  Suddenly I felt that changing my sweater might have been the thing to do, because he immediately began staring at my cleavage.  However, my lesser judgment took over and I sort of felt, well, sexy.  Could it be that I still had “it,” even now?  At age forty-something, it felt nice to be admired.  He took a seat, and I noticed amidst our pleasantries that he was still gazing at my chest.  I started feeling a little uncomfortable and I feared I was showing more than I had realized.  As I started to talk, I shifted a little nervously in my seat, and again I noticed his eyes slipping downward.  “My bust must be a powerful tool,” I thought. 
It was just at this moment my phone rang.  I looked to my left, then to my right, and finally to the center and down.  I had plunged my telephone into my cleavage for convenience sake while cleaning and had not thought of it again.  I just looked him in the eye and said, “I’ll get that.”
I will continue to believe I am eccentric rather than strangely absent and find comfort in knowing that at least for a “wise woman,” I am normal.



Chapter 2  Other Worlds


Many believe there are countless worlds.  In certain places, perhaps they overlay one another, and pieces of one protrude into another.  When a person has a high vibration due to their nature, or because they are in a state of change, they are able to perceive and perhaps interact with these worlds.  When intense change is occurring, it is possible that this creates a vibration that “stirs things up” energetically and creates a tear in the veil that separates us from other realms.
There are also portals that open between worlds, some of which are stable, some that move randomly.  Some spirits, or guides, are part of a realm where they are able to see and help us in ways that will not always be understood by us who remain here.  Here, we have blinders on, but in a higher reality, we have full vision and we “get” the big picture.  Some guides are those who have known and loved us in life, but others are assigned to us for a certain purpose.  Some may be with us throughout our lives and have known us only in spirit.
In addition, in other realms, there are spirits who are called common spirits, or ghosts.  Often these spirits are unaware that they are dead, or knowing that, they are not ready to move on for some reason that is personal to them.  They are the same now as when they were living.  They may feel that they are caught in a dream or something simply feels wrong.  Other realms are home to other-worldly beings, wayward spirits, ministering angels, aliens, etc.  Angels, while often working as guides, are not humans who have passed over, but created beings who can and do assist us in our spiritual growth and connect us better to God.  Many alien life forms exist, some which interact with us, some which are oblivious to us.  They travel inter-dimensionally, some through portals in space.  Each world can be accessed through thought, with your imagination creating a bridge that connects one reality to another.  This bridge is different than a portal, as it is created within the confines of your mind.  However, this type of energy can open a portal if it raises the vibration of the energy surrounding the one using the power of imagery or visualization.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Chapter 2 strange happenings

One afternoon, my friend Sherry and I were talking as we walked around the little drive that wrapped around the manicured lawn. We were enjoying a nice afternoon when we looked far ahead of us from atop the hill and saw the figure of a robed man, literally standing in the sky. He was pure white and was glowing as if lit from within. He was extremely large, quite still, and seemed to hover just above the trees. We stood for some time and watched him hold his silent vigil. Because we could not understand what it was that we were witnessing, we finally decided that it must have been a statue, and that it only appeared to be floating. When we left the cemetery, the figure was still there, radiant in the daytime sun, overlooking the trees that lay before it. The figure was gone the next day, and in fact, was never seen by my friend or myself again on our many strolls around the cemetery. Many years later, I met my friend again and asked if she remembered what we saw that day, and she confirmed that my memory was accurate.

Like many other teenage girls in the 1970s, the walls of my room were covered with posters of the “heart throbs” of the day. My favorite was David Cassidy. One night when I had some of my friends over, we witnessed David’s young and beautiful face on the poster turn into that of an old wrinkled man, right before our eyes. There were also nights when my friends and I observed every light in the house turn on and then off again without any human help.

Talking on the phone was my favorite thing to do at age thirteen, much to my dad’s chagrin. The man must have told me one hundred times a week to get off the phone. One day while my dad was outside in the front yard, I was in the kitchen having a phone chat with a friend when the doorknob of the carport door began to rattle. I became frightened, not of anything unearthly, but of my dad catching me on the phone again! I quickly hung up and struck an innocent pose. I waited for him to enter, but instead, the doorknob shook even more vigorously than before. I walked to the door thinking that it was merely locked and that I needed to open it. Just as I touched it, it became still. I flung the door open, the word “hey” on my lips, fully expecting my dad to be waiting on the other side. However, to my surprise, no one was there at all, and the storm door was firmly closed.

One summer night when I was alone, I was watching the Johnny Carson show in the living room shortly before midnight. I was waiting for a commercial so that I could attend to my nightly chore of taking out the trash. As I watched TV, I glanced toward the doorway to the kitchen in time to see a white hazy human form pass directly across the doorway and towards the door to the carport. I was frozen in my chair, and could not bring myself to move for an hour. Not willing to face the darkness of the kitchen and the carport beyond, I let the garbage stay put that night.

The next day, however, when I did go outside, our neighbor Barbara from across the street called out to me. “Why did you not speak to me last night?” she asked. “What are you talking about?” was my reply. “I saw you come out of your house and walk around the corner. I yelled at you, but you just kept on going.” Apparently, for reasons I do not understand, the spirit had taken on my form once outside the house. I inquired as to the time of this sighting, and she said it was around midnight.

While it seems clich├ęd that many of my adventures have taken place around midnight, or even on the proverbial dark and stormy night, it is nevertheless when they happened. I think that there are certain times that are more apt to create the right vibration that allows paranormal events to unfold. The best time for things to happen are “in between” times, and the best places are “in between” places. The most special time is at dusk or dawn, when it is neither dark nor light.

Midnight marks the in between time of am and pm, and other-worldly things are more noticeable at night when there are less distractions to hamper visions. In between places, or magical, places are places such as a riverbank or beach- not part of the water, but not fully dry land. Another place might be in the branches of a tree- part of the air, but still connected to earth. I find my deck is a special place because it is part of the house yet still part of outside, part of the land but suspended in air. Being in such a place or time is conducive to heightened awareness.

It is also interesting to note that adolescence is an “in between” age and is the age at which some young people attract accelerated supernatural activity around them. Indeed, poltergeist activity has almost exclusively been noted around adolescents.

Friday, November 9, 2012

My book chapter one

Some folks have asked me to serial my book on here, so, ok I will. It is really just a collection of my experiences. I hope to add some new stories as well.
Chapter 1 About Me


It is said that in times past, due to his eccentric habits, the village wise man, or shaman, was often mistaken by outsiders to be the village idiot.

I think that being psychic is akin to shamanism, and that maybe that explains why I am often confused. I find myself with one foot in this world and another in the spirit realm, making it hard to focus on whatever real world task is at hand. I like to think that being somewhat confused is a charming trait, or otherwise I might tend to worry about it.

While I have been known to answer questions concerning the depths of spiritual truths, have guided lost souls to enlightenment, and have assisted grieving ones through their deepest moments of despair, I still have a hard time functioning properly in the everyday world.

When my clients come to visit, they generally leave with heightened spiritual awareness and a deeper understanding of the forces at work in the world around them. They also tend to leave chuckling, for while I am dispensing this wisdom I am also wrangling Chihuahuas, applying tortured logic to convince my husband James to complete a household chore, and frantically searching the cushions of my chair for some lost object. Some of my clients affectionately call this “the Angela experience.”

Fortunately, humor is an important part of spiritual enlightenment. It is through the ability to laugh that we can access our higher selves and diminish the fear of the serious and sometimes ominous tasks we have set out to do. Laughing at ourselves not only keeps life in perspective, it keeps us healthy, both physically and emotionally. Humor allows us to detach and observe the human condition. Most importantly, laughing at life and at ourselves allows us to stay balanced.

I used to find myself in trouble quite often, as I was prone to verbalizing personal observations about folks that were obvious to me, but not so apparent to others. Although intuitive ability runs in my family, I was not as good at keeping my perceptions to myself as they were, and did not realize I might be different from folks outside the kin.

It was well known in my family that my aunt had dreams that later came true, and that my uncle was able to sense illness in others and could heal through touch. My father has had psychic experiences as well. Before the days of caller ID, when you telephoned my dad, more often that not he would pick up and immediately say your name before you had a chance to speak. My grandfather, a truly sweet and caring man, often knew in advance when someone was going to die, and was able to take physical pain away from others on occasion. Papaw, as we called him, always introduced me to others as being special. I thought that was because I lived with him due to my parents’ divorce. However, he later told me that when his late wife had delivered her last child, my dad, she had said that this child was special. Papaw said that he was not sure what she meant, but knew that not only this child would be special, but that his children would be special as well.

Perhaps the special label referred to intuitive ability. However, I was over thirty years old before a businesswoman that I respected finally explained to me that I was psychic. Because of that lady confirming what I had suspected, I began helping people sort out their problems, giving guidance and encouragement, and sharing my vision for them. Until that lady guided me, and encouraged me to act on my abilities, I had not realized how truly different from others I was.

As a child, for example, I often heard the “walls talking” in the house where I lived with my grandparents. I would hear laughter of children, the voice of their mother, and other grown-ups murmuring to one another. It never occurred to me that I was the only one hearing them. It was a comforting sound to me and I was usually lulled to sleep by their happy chatter. When I was older, the wall’s chatter ceased, yet I often felt the presence of unseen others in the room where I slept. I remember having conversations with them in the dark and even reported that fact to my step-grandmother who was still awake in the living room. She assured me that it was only my imagination, and that no one was in my room. I promptly went back to bed and reported to everyone what she had said, and they seemed as confused as I was. They were still there, and no amount of explaining sent them away. I still have the image in my mind of one child sitting on my bed, scratching his head and looking so puzzled upon hearing that he did not exist.

There was another presence in the room at times: a man who was frightening to me. When he would appear, I would take out my Bible that I kept under my pillow and threaten him with it, as any good little Baptist should. It actually worked quite well. Still, I spent many tension-filled nights fearful that he would return.

Visions became a normal part of my world at an early age. I remember standing in the doorway of the back bedroom that opened into the kitchen. As I peered into the kitchen, I had a vision of a woman standing at the stove cooking. I felt that she was the owner of this house: my house. At that time, I was about four years old and I felt that she was incredibly old, probably in her early thirties. She had short brown hair, and seemed very busy with her preparations. As I watched this woman, I felt that she was very familiar, and then I realized that I was looking at a future version of me. Many years later, I did in fact buy my childhood home. One day as I stood cooking dinner for my children, I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck, and felt eyes boring into my back. I started to turn and look, but stopped. I knew what it was that I was feeling: I felt the child that I had been looking forward into time at the woman I had become. Under my breath, I said, “I feel you, I know you are there.” The sensation of being watched left me, and I realized that a child’s prophecy had been fulfilled.

I realize now that time is an illusion and, rather than think of it as linear, I think of it in this way: Imagine that you are holding a movie reel. All of time is contained in this movie. All that was or will be is recorded there. There are alternate realities with different acts played out, but still the complete movie is on the reel that you hold in your hand. However, in order for it to make sense, you have to experience it one frame at a time. Sometimes we have glimpses into the future, or possible futures depending on choices we make now. While some events are destiny, there may be many paths to those points of destiny. Those paths are determined by the choices we make based on our own free will.

Another childhood vision took place in that kitchen as well. I became aware that there would be a child in my life that would be confined to a wheelchair. I knew that I loved her and that she was wanted. I told my step-grandmother, “I want a handicapped child when I grow up!” “No! You want your children to be healthy,” she said. I felt confused because I knew what I had felt and I knew that I loved this child. Once again, doubt filled my mind and I thought that maybe I was wrong. Still, I could not release the feelings of love that I had experienced for this child I did not yet know. Years later, when I was fourteen, my father and stepmother became the parents of beautiful twin girls. One grew up as a dancer. In fact, she won trophies in regional competitions. Her twin, however, was struck with cerebral palsy at birth, and is to this day confined to a wheelchair. I am certain that she is the child I believed to be my own in my vision years earlier. I was very active in the girls’ childhoods, so much so that many people in town erroneously believed them to be my own children, much to my great embarrassment since I was myself a mere teen.

I also began to get a sense of my own destiny at an early age. When I was four or five, while playing with my dolls, I suddenly felt panicked and needed to know what region of the country I lived in. I knew that I needed to be in the south. I do not know why I needed to be, just that I did. I ran to my step-grandmother and asked her where we were. She answered that we were in North Carolina. “But I need to be in the south,” I said. She reassured me that North Carolina was in the south, despite the name. I felt relieved, my panic vanished, and I resumed my play. I was strangely comforted by the knowledge that I was living where I knew that I was meant to be.

I also recall feeling amazed as a child upon learning that man had not made it to the moon yet. It seemed impossible to me that mankind was still earthbound. I thought, “You mean that is as far as we come, we haven’t even been to the moon?” I remember feeling utterly disappointed and completely surprised at this knowledge.



Make peace

Being heard