Month: August 2020

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Pickles and Fudge. A Life Lesson.

I’ve been inundated with pet stories. Vet stories. Happy stories and sad stories.

This led me to flash back through memories of childhood pets. I guess we had a bunch over the years. A dog, a kitten, a guinea pig, snakes, turtles, gerbils, fish, mice, and a chicken (a story for another time).

In my current family, we started out by petsitting the Montessori animals.  Easier that way.

Let’s just say it was interesting. The frog (stunk), the chinchillas (made noise all night), the albino rabbit (ate our curtains), and the dwarf rabbit (made his heavenly exit while in our care). After all that practice, we agreed to take in a house broken rabbit (ate the couch, also departed for greener pastures above). Finally, we were ready for our own pet.  Feeling confident, we brought home two dwarf hamsters and got them settled in their new home.

I still remember my third grader reading a story to Pickles and Fudge to help them adjust to their new home. 

Sweet memory. And the day I came home from work greeted by a worried daughter.  “Something is wrong with Pickles. Can you look at him?”  Pickles was alone now after Fudge departed suddenly without fanfare.  Cradling Pickles in my hand, I witnessed a swollen cheek and slanted eye.  Something was seriously wrong. 

Ghosts of past pets hopped into our minds and our musings.

Memories of Fudge flooded the room and the conversation.  The rabbits (plural). Bubbles, the goldfish won at a school fair, who recently floated to the light. Sensing a theme?. 

“Is Pickles going to die?” 

My daughter went to bed worried and sad.  My husband reminded me of the “facts.”  Dwarf hamsters have a life expectance of only 1 – 2 years.  Logic told him that if one hamster died, it might just be time for the other hamster to go as well. 

I don’t like facts.  They limit my options.

Deeply mired within facts and fearful conditioning about pets dying, we spent the weekend observing a decrease in activity.  Was Pickles eating less?  Was he having difficulty breathing?  Were we getting closer to losing him?  It was a helpless feeling that did nothing to support Pickles, nor my daughter’s ability to process what was occurring. 

Rather than hanging around waiting for this little guy to die, we took some action.

We realizes we were projecting so much worry, sadness, and fear onto this tiny creature.  Flowing healing energy through our hands, hearts, and minds, we held little Pickles.  Pictures of dolphin friends, known for their healing ability, and other positive helpers were placed with near the cage. I felt a bit of relief as if I had ‘done something.’

Until I realized that my daughter’s first question upon waking or returning from school was “Is Pickles dead?”

Enough.  I realized that if this was a larger animal, such as a dog or cat, I would already be at the vet to explore what was wrong.  So, why wasn’t I calling a vet for Pickles?  Was I unwilling to spend the time, money, or attention because he was small and had a predicted short lifespan?   Was I viewing Pickles as expendable simply because he was a hamster?

I realized beneath concern for my daughter’s well-being lurked the real shadow: a disrespect for life.

 

How could I go through my days without exploring what might be done for the benefit of Pickles and, relatedly, my daughter?  I found a vet who specialized in “pocket pets.”   I made an appointment for the same day.  “First name?” asked the kind clerk.  “Kathy,” I replied.  “Name of the hamster?” she kindly prompted me.  Oh.

Two hours later, Pickles Milano and I were off to his appointment. 

I was touched by the kindness of the vet and her assistant who clearly respected little Pickles regardless of his predicted life span.  The verdict?  Pickles had an abscess in his cheek for some unknown reason which could be rectified by surgery. 

Oh my goodness.  Nothing was wrong with his eye after all – it was just squished by the swelling.  With a little anesthesia, sweet Pickles would have this gook drawn out of his cheek and live happily ever after for some time to come thanks to his strong heart.  “How much would all of this cost?” I asked.  Silly question, really.  As if I could walk away. 

As Pickles Milano was led to surgery, I was surprised by the depth of my respect for this tiny speck of life. 

And the welling of emotion as I shed a tear in the waiting room. My heart opened as I considered what it might be like for such a tiny animal, usually protected within his cage, to experience this medical intervention.  I pushed my worry aside and drew forth every positive ray of energy for the benefit of my furry teacher who reminded me of the importance to respect all life, all ways. 

“We have to hurry back to the car,” I said, “Pickles is waiting.” 

Expressions of confusion, fear, and hope flitted across my daughter’s face. Followed by a big smile when she learned that Pickles was sticking around for a while longer.  For the next two weeks, that wiggly fur ball brought the family together morning and night as we attempted to drip the antibiotic into his tiny mouth.  With minimal mess, lots of laughter, and only a few nips, Pickles absorbed the nurturance heaped upon him. We all shared a collective breath of relief.

At the end of this experience, we conducted a cost analysis. 

Examination, anesthesia, surgery, and antibiotic:  $101.  Our daughter sleeping peacefully while a lively Pickles Milano created a ruckus running on his wheel all night: Priceless. 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

57% of Americans report that experiences make them happiest, as reported on Happify (a wellbeing website). Especially experiences that connect you with friends and family, provide a memorable story, align with personal values, or are just downright unusual.  Using your money for leisure boosts wellbeing while the thrill is short for purchasing material goods. Good news! A cup of coffee with a friend carries more weight in the wellbeing arena than your mortgage.

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Lessons from a Blimp.

Many years ago, I was invited to take a ride in the Blockbuster blimp for my birthday. 

Yup.  That many years ago.  When renting video tapes was a thing. Arriving at a small airport in Northeast Philadelphia, I was startled by the size of the huge bullet-shaped “balloon.” Six strong men struggled to hold the blimp steady via long ropes. My friend yelled out, “This is going to be a hell of a ride!”

I saw an inconceivably small oval cockpit hanging beneath this floating behemoth.

I decided the butterflies in my stomach were from excitement as we squeezed into our seats.  Since it was my birthday, I had the front seat next to the pilot.  Lucky me. In a flash, those strong men were waving as our little engine chugged us forward.  It was surreal.

I thought of the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang movie while watching neighborhoods glide beneath us.

My husband’s seatbelt wasn’t secure and our gracious host in the miniature back seat wasn’t much help.  “No worries” said the pilot as he reached back to adjust the belt.  No worries?  The nose of the blimp moved rapidly toward the ground, giving me a full appreciation for the term, “nosedive.” 

Those butterflies weren’t only in my stomach anymore.

The pilot turned back and casually righted the blimp.  “See, nothing to worry about.”  Funny guy.  I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Immediately that familiar sensation of nausea came over me.  It never crossed my mind that a lifetime of motion sickness within all moving vehicles might extend to a blimp ride. I immediately got into management mode as I relaxed my body, set my gaze forward, and began breathing deeply.  Placing myself in an aware trance state, I focused the delight of flying.

“Kathy! Take a look. Your husband is turning green.”

Apparently we shared an affinity for blimp sickness.  Well, that man was on his own.  The pilot suggested they open a window. In a blimp? Good grief.  The backseat duo couldn’t get the damned window open, so the pilot reached back and battled with the sticky window. 

Another nosedive while moving through rough wind currents.

Happy birthday to me. I quietly scanned for an airsick bag.  Nothing.  As fresh air blew through our tiny capsule, I made a quick decision. I was gonna totally enjoy this novel experience. I decided my butterflies found it thrilling. After all, how often do you float over neighborhoods, rivers, and highways? I even snapped a photo of Philadelphia before we were turned away from the restricted city air space.

I gratefully realized I was halfway through my birthday adventure without losing my cookies.

My celebration was interrupted when the pilot asked if we were interested in heading to Willow Grove to see if we could fly in the air show.  Since I didn’t think I’d be flying fighter jets in the future, might as well try to show up in a blimp.  When else would I get a chance to be in an air show? 

Choosing to focus on the wonder of this otherworldly journey helped manage my discomfort.

I was hanging on by a thread when we got the message to “stay put” in case we could fit in the lineup. We’d been in the friendly skies nearing two hours and still had to make it back.  By the way, the back seat was doing just fine with their breezy window.  Enjoying some history and a tour of the grand estates in a ritzy area of town.

I’d love to tell you that we were the star of the show, but the Blockbuster Airship didn’t make the cut. 

All that extra travel for nothing!  Or was it? Reflecting on this gift of flight, I’m grateful I hadn’t recalled my motion sickness before we arrived. Or knew what a long, uncomfortable experience I’d have. I’m certainly glad I didn’t know anything about hanging in a mini cocoon under a gas filled balloon. Nor about nosedives and open windows.

All that knowledge would have definitely led me to worry and hesitation.

Which would have been an absolute waste of time and disrupted my birthday excitement. I learned motion sickness exists in the air and on the ground. And so does delight. As above, so below.  It all depends what you chose to focus upon.  Truth be told, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

In hindsight, the blimp was a walk in the park compared to the time I jumped out of an airplane. 

But, that’s another story entirely.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

Your attitude toward stress is important.  One study showed that interpreting anxiety as feelings of excitement may actually help your mood and performance. Even more than trying to calm down.  You can adopt a mind set which focuses on the positive outcomes of stressful experiences so that feeling stressed is less of a barrier. Performance research suggests you need just enough stress to get brain chemicals to give you some juice, but not so much that you feel overwhelmed or can’t think straight.

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Talking to Angels

Have you been talking to Angels?

Yeah, me too.  How’s that going? 

(That’s a real question.)

I really wonder what it’s like for you when you chat with the Angels.  I’d love to know the details. The Who, What About, When, How, How often and What happens type of details.  I’d love to know how they respond and how you know it’s them.    

I want to know what doesn’t happen.  Where it doesn’t work, when you doubt (them, you), when you forget them, when they remind you. When they disappoint you.  Or you them.

(Spoiler alert. That last option just isn’t a possibility.  Ever.)  

I want to know all of it.  So, email me.  I’ll read it. I’ll send you a guided meditation as a thank you.  Which one.  Don’t know.  I’m sure “they” will tell me.  

You know how you get so used to your way of doing things, you forget there are other ways?  That’s me.  Hence, my (real) question.

It’s a big world out there.  Lots of humans.  The cosmos is even bigger.  Lots of celestial conversationalists available for a (snap) chat. I wonder if you’re the chatty kind – talking all day to humans and light beings.  Or if you spend most of your time with one group over another.  Maybe you only talk (to humans or angels) when you really need something.  I wonder what it’s like for you.

I don’t read books about how to connect with Angels anymore. 

Not for years.  I read a bunch in the beginning.  They opened a new world to me and I’m deeply grateful for them. I liked having information about the Angels: names, roles, descriptions and ways to translate Angelic guidance.  This initial structure gave me the foundational knowledge and ideas about how I figure it all worked.  

I didn’t realize how these books also kept me bound within limited ideas about the Angelic Presence.  

I do remember the exact moment that door opened.  

I was offering an Angel reading as part of my practicum to become an Angel Healing Practitioner  You can just picture me.  My face and insides all screwed up in concentration as I “tried” to translate something that sounded like Angelic guidance.  Lots of tension. Lots of effort.

Until something akin to a tap on my right shoulder was followed by a question.  

“Do you mind if We take it from here?”

“Have at it!”  My relief was palpable. My knowing clear. My trust complete. 

From that day on, talking to Angels has become as natural as breathing. So has listening to Angels, streaming Angelic Conversations for others, consulting with them on all my life decisions, and helping you find your own way into this ongoing conversation. 

I know you have the skill to do the same.  I have zero doubt on that belief.  

Why so sure? I’ve sat with thousands of people throughout the years.  Heard so many Angel connection stories. Witnessed so many beautiful partnerships, heartfelt wisdom translations, and bodyfelt receptivity to the Angelic Presence.  Too many to count.  So, I know you absolutely have the skill to enter the conversation more fully.  

I just wonder where you’re bound. 

By your limited beliefs. By your doubt in yourself. By your experience (evidence) of not being responded to.  By your disappointments. By your perception that others can do this, but not you.  

I lived all of that.  Fully embodied disempowerment all the while I was having marginal success “talking with Angels.”

Those days are gone. These days I’m clear: the only time I’m not engaged with these lovely messengers is when I’ve left the conversation.  When I’ve narrowed my perception, my thinking, my awareness.  When I’ve gotten lost in one of my countless human stories that lead me to believe I’m separate from this ongoing flowing dialogue. 

These days I know the Angels are always Live Streaming.  

And, unbeknownst to most, you are always engaged in some level at that conversation.   

I wonder what your myths are about how this flowing, streaming beautiful conversation is “suppose to” happen.  

Myths.  Plural.  They are like locked doors – keeping you outside looking in at those who can talk to Angels, easily translate celestial wisdom, access deep Truth. These myths are keeping you separate from someone like me.  Just like my myths kept me in the “I’m not intuitive like you” camp for way too long.

This myth is not true. Just a distorted story which disempowers.  

 

There are lots of myths about how the Angelic conversation is supposed to happen.  If you’ve witnessed me live streaming – which is most typical when I teach, guide a meditation, offer an Angel Healing session, or an Angel Card Reading – you’ve witnessed one way of flow.   

I’d love to also talk about how damn awkward these conversations with Angels can be. 

To help you understand their nonlinear nature. How conversations unfold over time, across various messengers, and skip around topics. How the information is often cryptic, symbolic, and multisensory. How they show up at the most inopportune times.

How they pick up the conversation with abrupt questions, laughter when things aren’t funny, and challenges to act when it makes no sense.

About how to open to their rants about how much you are loved, cherished, and enjoyed. To let yourself feel the feels and experience the otherworldly even when it is physically disorienting or confusing.

I’d love to help you open to this Angelic live stream. 

I’m really invested in the other Angelic Invitation I received those many years ago.  “Teach them what they are already capable of.”  That’s what I’ve been doing for years now.  

Empowering you to discover how you (already) work.

Every workshop, retreat, and service I offer will help you discover more of your innate capacity to communicate with the Angels.  With every higher level of Wisdom regardless of what it is called.  This is what you are capable of. 

I invite you to WholeHeartedly, consciously, and freely enter the conversation. 

If you’re wanting personal instruction, hit me up for an Angelic Healing Journey.  It’s all about you as the Angels and other Wise Guides show up to answer your questions, invite themselves to hang out with you on a daily basis, and give you some hints for elevating your life.

Above all, remember this: You really don’t need me, or anyone, to show you the way.

You already know how to talk and listen.  You’ve already had beautiful and awkward conversations with all kinds of beings. Relax and have at it. If you want a guide, pick up a book, grab an Angel Card Deck, or find a teacher/mentor. 

All lead to the same place: your own Awesomeness.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

Kindness: the gift that keeps on giving. University of California researchers found an increase in positive feelings and life satisfaction, and a decrease in negative feelings, when participants performed acts of kindness, recalled acts of kindness, or did both. Next time you feel down or stressed, pull up a memory of when you were kind to someone to improve your own well-being.

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Something New

I’m ready for something new.
Time to shed a skin or two.
Habits and thought patterns are stale.
Begging me to begin a new tale. 

I am mired in the same old dance,
Convincing myself of its importance.
Yet feeling an invitation in the breeze,
Which tickles me and makes me sneeze.

What grand dreams were just inhaled?
What new walls here to be scaled?
Glimpses of new vistas that I see,
Sent back in time by a future me.

I ask, “What is there?
How do I prepare?”
I answer, “Throw away the map
And climb on my lap.”

Carried away by an unseen dream.
Across uncharted territory.
Upside down and topsy turvy.
No time to rhyme.

Bump, I land back where I began,
Steadied by a Divine hand.
The invitation is crystal clear.
Thus invoking lots of fear.

With child’s mind, I venture out.

 

With child’s mind, I venture out.
To play, to risk, to sometimes pout.
If new is what I’m called to do,
I guess I’ll try a thing or two.

Tickled by this unseen dream,
The path is clear, just can’t be seen.
Who knows where I may land?
Or who will come to hold my hand?

Emboldened by the memory
of a brave kindergardener me.
I venture forth to this new game.
Trusting I will not remain the same.

Hoping for playmates along the way.
I trust you’ll venture out to play.
I’m ready for something new.
Are you?

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

There’s a lot of benefit to writing, reading, and listening to poetry.  Research shows it benefits the brain, developmental learning, creative expression, and opening to new perspectives. I like this quote from Phyllis Klein (Women’s Therapy Services.) “…poetry gives rhythm to silence, light to darkness. In poetry we find the magic of metaphor, compactness of expression, use of the five senses, and simplicity or complexity of meaning in a few lines.” Why not try it out? Let your creative juices flow. Perfection be damned!  Express yourself.

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Gone Fishin’

I hope you’re enjoying midsummer even in the midst of uncertainty in the world. 

I took a month away from social media, including writing this blog, in order to step away from the opinions and happenings of the world. This reprieve allowed me to enjoy the sweetness of my work, watch Hamilton (twice), read, and rest.  I enjoyed a relaxed pace during my days. Spent time with loved ones, watched Netflix, stayed home, and slept longer.

I found the restoration had a surprising impact. 

I wanted more. So did my body and my mind. So, I’m following this inner invitation to do less and engage the world slowly. I’m curious about what is unfolding within and around me. And I’m watching as the creative impulse is waking up.  Wondering what will come of this change of pace. But certainly not rushing it.  

The idea of a “Gone Fishing” sign hung on my door feels deeply appealing. 

And I don’t fish. I do appreciate the natural world and have been basking in long walks in the woods, watching rainstorms, and sitting by a mountain lake. Watching bald eagles fly, ducks dive for food, fawns scamper, and a bear eat our trash. All magnificent, my favorite was the bear climbing into our trash enclosure. He was nimble and enjoyed the early morning for his exploration.

Until we got wise and locked our trash in the garage. I kinda miss that furry gymnast.  

Another hot topic filling my conversations is the approach of the school year.  Big decisions across the board as I listen to administrators, teachers, students, and parents. Every level of education, from preschool through graduate school, is being upended. The choices are varied. The opinions are strong. The reactions are vulnerable. The solutions are creative. The disappointments are endless.

And it could all change tomorrow.  Such is the world we live in.    

More and more, I’m dropping into the precious moment. The Now Moment. Into the report of sweet encounters between people. Into relaxation and my resting body. Into memories of good times.  Into the practice of breathing deeply. Everything seems precious. 

My retreat from the world is reminding me how precious this life really is.

 

While it doesn’t seem like rocket science, it makes a lot of sense.

In one of my quieter moments, I was thinking about SisterHood families.  And those in neighborhoods who have been deeply affected by the loss of jobs and the higher cost of food. Thinking about how Burlington City kids would be returning to school.  Or not.  Exploring what I could do to help.

When the phone rang.

My friend, Rev Hilda, was calling to let me know of the sudden death of a long time SisterHood volunteer.  Nothing COVID related.  Just a precious life ended suddenly.  With the broad reaching impact on loved ones, friends, and community that loss always brings.  I worked a lot with Evelyn.  Saw her live through some troubles and courageously come through them.  She was happy.  Proud of herself.  Connected with her family.  The future looked bright.   

You just never know what this precious life will bring. Nor what it takes away.

I wondered how I could pay my respects to a family who didn’t know me.  And then I realized that I could pay my respect of Evelyn by paying it forward. To take an action that was aligned with her daily volunteer work.  Giving back to the SisterHood community.  Taking care of the vulnerable kids. Something Evelyn did with enthusiasm in a community that welcomed her into their lives.

You don’t have to know Evelyn to help me act like her. 

Worlds apart, I imagine you share something in common with her. The desire to give of yourself. To share. To make the world a little easier for kids and their parents. If you’re interested in supporting the SisterHood School Supply Drive, scroll down for the flyer. Any NEW school supplies for K – 12 will be useful.  It doesn’t make a difference if the kids are heading to school, choosing a hybrid option, or going the virtual option.  As my daughter recently reminded me, kids still need school supplies. 

I’ll be at Soul Sanctuary for the Sidewalk School Supply Drive on Saturday, August 22nd from 9 – 11am.    

Free free to drive by and drop off some supplies. Bring a mask and have a lovely outdoor distance visit.  If you’d rather I shop for you, that works.  Reach out to me via email and let me know what serves you.  If that day doesn’t fit in your schedule, I’ll let you know what day you can drop supplies on my front door step at Soul Sanctuary.  Thanks for your help here or wherever you offer it in the world. 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

HeartWarming

 News

We can get overwhelmed when thinking about the inequity in homes and schools. The reality that many kids don’t get back to school shopping nor show up with basic supplies, such as a notebook or pencil, is heartbreaking. Yet stories of teachers, neighbors, volunteers, and kind people abound.  Remember to focus on the good!  And the potential to do good.  It not only primes your brain for good health, resilience, and emotional wellbeing. It might lead you to be the one who makes the difference for someone in need!  Win.  Win.