Archives: Miracles

A Writers Retreat, A Miracle, Say Yes!

“You are the work of God, and His work is wholly lovable and wholly loving. This is how a woman must think of herself in her heart, because this is what she is.” –A Course in Miracles

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I attended the “Women Writers in the Redwoods” conference last year. Thirty women came and were coached by five teachers in an incredible setting at Pema Osel Ling Retreat Center outside of Coralitas, California. Today, I found out I could have a discount/partial scholarship. I immediately wrote back and said, “Yes.” Within a few minutes, a friend asked a favor, and paid for the rest of the conference.

A powerful word, yes!

I do believe in saying yes, even when I don’t necessarily know how its all going to work out. I’m always amazed when events are orchestrated to bring a gift. The retreat last year helped me recommit to my writing. I started blogging, writing my next book, and rejoined a poetry writing group. The retreat this year will help me continue my writing journey, make new writerly friends, and see again all the wonderful women I met last year. And I know there will be unknown mystery gifts coming too.

Just morning while reading a book on meditation, creativity, and joy, I thought I would like to join a meditation class. This isn’t a meditation class, but it is held at  a Tibetan Buddhist retreat center in the Santa Cruz mountains. I do plan on meditating while there.

I must remember what the Course in Miracles says, “Miracles occur naturally as expressions of love. They are performed by those who temporarily have more for those who temporarily have less.”

Ah life, ah angels, thank you, thank you for your gifts. And remember, when opportunity shows up, say yes.

What unexpected gifts have you received lately? Any miracles to report?

 

 

Twin Pelican Chicks

Pelican Twins! Well, my sister and I are not exactly twin pelican chicks, but we still have a lot of life in both of us. She was dancing this weekend on the East Coast and her husband filmed her. I saw the post on Facebook! I dance at my Jazzercise class most mornings. Did you know that people who dance fight dementia? Not that we’re worried about that at our age. I just know I feel great when I dance.

I drew the chicks above in my Drawing 2 class at Cabrillo College, our local community college last spring. I was very into learning how to draw birds, not a natural talent, but in the end I had so much fun.  This was my teacher’s favorite of all the drawings I did. But, his wife was expecting twins!

My twin sister, Laurie, and I are very close, despite the fact we’ve lived most of our lives apart. We were born at midnight, so we have different birthdays. No, we are not identical. I, yes, was born first. Unfortunately, my cord was wrapped around my sister’s neck, and she was born blue. Yes, she forgave me.

Laurie has always been so adventuresome and brave! I’ve followed her on some of her teaching travels to Brazil and Venezuela. Just a few short years ago on our birthday I followed her across a small bay to snorkel in the turquiose waters with lots of colorful fish. She has helped me overcome my shyness and timidity, and to do things I never thought I could.

Happy Birthday, sweet twin. We’ll talk again this weekend, and I’ll see you next summer. Can’t wait!

 

She Calls

A Poem Dedicated to Madyson Middleton and Laura Jordan of Santa Cruz, California

 

 

She calls, provides me with a simple life,

a life on the San Lorenzo River,

overlooking pink eucalyptus and pine.

She urges ­– become a painter, a writer,

live in an intentional arts community.

 

Some mornings, coffee in hand,

cat on my lap, I marvel.

I am suppose to paint, write,

I am suppose to contemplate,

drink it in, the flash of

of the iridescent blue jay,

against the forest green.

 

Called, yes, thirty-three years ago,

a sudden awakening, a rebirth.

I was led to the Unity Prayer Room,

Lee Summit, Missouri,

praying with people from

the U.S, the world.

 

I learned,

“Be still and know I am God.

Be still and know I am.

Be still and know.

Be still.”

 

My vocation included sitting for a

half-hour in the dead of night, winter,

in the dimly lit chapel

where prayer had been

continuous for ninety years.

 

I did my best, I didn’t understand,

how I’d arrived there,

but, I was deeply honored;

my own wounds healing.

 

It’s as if I’m on an invisible path,

sometimes lit, sometimes not,

headed north, slowly, following a map of

valleys and mountains without designation,

but with stars and moon revealed.

 

And just last summer

a little girl, Maddy, eight,

a neighbor on the first floor,

was murdered by another

neighbor, fifteen, a sick boy

who just wanted to know what

it felt like to kill someone.

 

On this holy ground,

Tibetian monks performed

an exorcism – with loud clanging

bells, gongs, and drums.

They chanted for a good hour,

red and gold robes in dim light

in our community room,

releasing, cleansing, and purifying.

If only it was that easy.

I and others, children too,

lit candles and prayed for days.

 

I was called to offer

a light of a painting,

red and gold, “Golden Spirit,”

to Laura, Maddy’s brave mother.

Now I know why,

in all this light and darkness too,

why ­–

I paint, pray, and write.

 

 

 

 

Knock, Knock, Knock on Heaven’s Door

I loved this book. Patricia Pearson is not only a eloquent writer, but she weaves her personal story with detailed stories of others. Concurrently, she reports on scientific research about people’s moment of death and near death experiences.

I loved the story of her sister, Katharine. She tells the story of her life and her vulnerable, sad time with cancer. Patricia, after her sister’s death, “wanted to understand what we knew, and what remained unclear, scientifically elusive, about these controversial modes of awareness. …Why did she enter into her own dying experience afraid at first – only to become increasingly joyful? What was she seeing, what was she learning, what would she have told me if she could have, after she could no longer converse. What I learned in the ensuing few years was far richer and more mysterious than I ever imagined, and by sharing it with you, I am hoping that I will open a door.”

I am fascinated by these stories because in my psychic hearings with people, often deceased loved ones psychically show up. I can hear them, and in my mind’s eye, see them. I am honored to meet these souls and transmit messages to and from loved ones.

Opening Heaven’s Door could help those who are facing their loved ones or their own illness or death. It lessoned the fear of death for me.  She sums up her works by saying, “When the dying leave us, it’s like a footprint in the sand that needs to be filled in. Where the water rushes in, where love rushes in.” Such a wise and profound book!