Have you ever looked in the mirror and just wanted to cry? I did that one recent morning, having had too little sleep and far too little coffee to cope with revelation. My body wasn’t any of the things I’d wanted it to be… that was clear from the get to. Not tall as Julia Roberts or thin as Calista Flockhart, not straight and lithe and sexy as when it was young and innocent of life. My face, while it’s a perfectly good face, shows signs of more experience than you could shake a stick at. My breasts – always my best feature – seemed to be holding their own pretty well, but my abs, God help them… they were never made of steel, but of flesh that’s carried children, and comforted life’s large or small hurts with one too many tea and toasts, by the look of it.
Many people in the esoteric and native cultural worlds believe the date 11.11.11 was just the beginning of the wild ride we are on. They say a great influx of celestial energy is being infused into humanity, for the purpose of encouraging us, as a species, toward spiritual enlightenment. They believe this was a time when, in the midst of all our planetary trevails, a special grace was bestowed on us, so that all the energies we focus on transcending our follies and embracing our heart-strengths can be magnified a hundred-fold. Continue reading “Stargate” »
I had a conversation with my dear 93 year old Aunt Helen shortly before she died, about how good the old days really were. Memories of my grandmother’s home-baked bread, of family gatherings, home and hearth and love and laughter, cuddling us both in remembered grace, were like a feather comforter for the spirit. “Life isn’t better now,” she mused, “just faster and more complicated.” Continue reading “Legacy” »
I wish you could all share the experience I’ve just recounted, but I realize it’s not so easy to find a Medicine Man unless you happen to live in Santa Fe or Sedona, but perhaps there’s another way to leave the past behind, if you choose to. Several people have written about this technique, but I learned it from a wonderful metaphysician named Rev. Margarite Batease of the Soul Heal Ministry, so I’ll pass along her methodology. Continue reading “Cutting Away the Past In Case There’s No Medicine Man Handy” »
I wanted to love and be loved forever. I wanted to grow old with the man I loved. Like Yeats with Maude Gonne, we’d love the sorrows of each others’ changing faces, and it wouldn’t matter one whit if we weren’t young and beautiful anymore, because we’d laugh together at the losses and infirmities, and we’d see each other on the inside, where our hearts and souls would still be lovely as before, and we’d bask together in the beauty of a life well-lived, a family well-raised, shared accomplishments to look back on with pride and affection. Continue reading “What I Learned About Love” »
Truth is I need to pray to a Mother God sometimes… not a Father God. One who’ll understand without more explanation than I have the oomph to give. Which is really odd, in my case, as my Mother never understood and my father always did, but still the mythos of being gently Mothered must live in my longings… or maybe it’s because the cranky, stern, male God of my childhood Catholicism, bears no relation to my gentle, kindly father, so I don’t connect the two. Continue reading “Prayer for Me” »
I grew up talking to God… an Irish thing to do. Walking down the street saying, Hi God, it’s me Cathy, how are You today? That’s a great tree You made. Thanks for the sunrise. Please help me with my math test. Please make it easier for my mother to breathe. That kind of conversation. I didn’t want Him to think I was a fair-weather friend, who’d only call on Him in times of need. So I talked, and I knew He listened. If I prayed, He always answered. Sometimes He said no. Continue reading “Chatting with Heaven” »
My mother could foretell death. She’d inherited the family banshee, the Irish harbinger who shrieks her fatal message to one member of each generation to let them know that someone is about to die. “What a pity about John,” she might say, “he’ll be gone by June 15th,” and close family members knew enough not to make plans with John for the 4th of July. Continue reading “Irish Childhoods are Different” »
I had a vision, shortly after my daughter died, in which I saw her standing on a great plain of Light, through which a Golden Road traveled towards Infinity. She stood solemnly, awaiting a command to move on – with Dakota and me standing like sentinels, one on either side. She said we mustn’t set foot on the road, or we’d have to cross over to the Other Side, but that we could travel with her for a while. Continue reading “Traveling Companions” »
I’m fascinated by the recent proliferation of books that tell you how easy life should be. All it takes is The Secret 7 Steps to Success, or 12 Steps to Something or Other. We can cure all illness with the proper mindset, we can get rich with affirmations. Joy is our birthright and all we have to do is acknowledge that fact to achieve it.
When Cancer strikes, your doctor tells you what to do next. Maybe its chemo or radiation or surgery. Whatever he advises you’ll need to make a fast decision on something that’s a matter of life and death, that you don’t know very much about. Odds are you’re scared, shocked and unable to think very clearly. You need information you can trust. Clear, concise information about the nature of your particular illness… about what options are available… about whom to call for a second opinion.
The Native Americans call the Black Hills in South Dakota, the “Heart of Everything that is.” They believe the Earth Mother’s body has organ systems just as we do, and that the Black Hills are the heart of the Earth. The Dineh Tribe believes its sacred Big Mountain is the earth’s liver, and now that its coal is being depleted by mining processes that pollute and poison the surrounding land and water, the liver can no longer function to cleanse the Earth Mother’s body of toxic wastes. The Aborigines call the Coral Reefs the Mother’s blood purifier, but