memories
The Disappointed Jesus In London
To be fair, I did not visit to the city of London solely for esoteric purposes, but I found the energy signature quite different and stark there, compared to Athens and Berlin.
I found the atmosphere in Berlin, for example, electric, yet peaceful. Stepping off the U-Bahn at Wittenberg Platz in the middle of the high season, I was engulfed by a comforting low-level hum of German families and tourists doing their Saturday afternoon window shopping. The people here did not seem to have a care in the world. The streets were crowded , much like that of London, but not once did I feel a sense of angst or claustrophobia. The warm buzz was actually quite welcoming and pleasant… and this is major coming from a highly strung empath like myself.
Berlin woke me up on a Sunday morning with the nostalgic chiming of church bells. I was staying inside one of the surviving wings of the Neues Schauspielhaus on Nollendorf Platz, in the Schöneberg district of Berlin. It was built in 1905 as a theatre and concert hall, in the then fashionable Art Nouveau style. Maybe Bertold Brecht was there in the 1920s, discussing his plays with someone in the very room I slept in that night, or maybe the bands Depeche Mode or The Human League used it as a dressing room in the 1980s. While those bells were ringing in the distance, I almost expected Christopher Isherwood’s character Sally Bowles to sneak down the corridor of this old building, back from a busy, decadent night’s work at the Kit Kat Club cabaret. Continue reading
The Haunted Typewriter
When I was growing up my mother had a typewriter that had been in the family for a long time. I never knew much about its history.
One day I was invited to a family reunion at my aunt and uncle’s house. After my mother had passed away I never had much contact with them. We sat around and talked about my mother being a psychic and how she experienced many paranormal stuff as a child. My aunt took out a family photo album she had shown me before and in one of the pictures there was a picture of an old, black typewriter. She told me that it was a 1920’s Royal typewriter and that my grandfather received it as payment for working on someone house. The homeowners didn’t have the money to pay him for his services. Continue reading
Love Cord Connections Last An Eternity
When we truly love someone, we are eternally connected to that person – throughout all of our lifetimes. That love cord is never severed. No one, or nothing, not even the Archangel Michael can sever this cord with his sword.
It is true that love is the most powerful force and it is my belief that God is love. We get to bask in this blissful feeling in its entirety, which is much too much for our earthly minds to even comprehend. I do know that we get to taste a bit of it through the feelings we experience when we deeply love another person. It is our ‘taste of heaven’ here on earth and we can enhance the feeling through gratitude for that person that is in our lives. In turn we can also treat each other better, appreciate each other more, knowing that the moment truly is all that we have and it can be taken away at any moment. Continue reading
Please Don’t Shoot The Messenger!
I’ve have been doing psychic readings for many years now, and I still feel the same joy I did when I was just a youngster drawn in by the lure of the Tarot.
Throughout the years I’ve had some wonderful clients and some incredible readings, as most professional psychic readers will tell you. But throughout the years I’ve also had some unpleasant moments. The most disagreeable experiences have been with clients that got angry with me, because of what I saw, or didn’t see. Those angry clients can ruin your psyche for a minute, for an hour, sometimes even longer than that. They can make you doubt yourself, and question your own abilities. Continue reading
My Magic Wand
It is said that “the wand chooses its master” and this is the story of how my wand came to be with me.
Several years ago I worked as a full-time reader at an area psychic store. I loved my job and my clients. The location was perfect and I looked forward to going to work every day. One special day, however, was the start of my journey towards receiving my magic wand.
It started as a normal day with clients coming in to see me, psychic readings to do, and books to marvel at and glance through. I’d had lunch and was sitting in my room preparing for the afternoon’s arrivals, when I heard the jingle of the front door.
I knew, somehow, that the jingle was meant for me, although I wasn’t expecting anyone for at least another hour. So, I got up and walked towards the front of the store and there was a short, and forgive me for saying it, rather unattractive and ordinary looking man standing there looking at me. He appeared ordinary until you looked into his eyes. They contained wisdom – and something more. I eventually learned that the ‘something more’ was a certain disdain for the human race, but that’s another story. Continue reading
My Mother, My Self
My mother is a wonderful woman. Kind-hearted, giving, a great cook and a good listener. In short she is all the things a good mother should be.
My mother is also the most mean-spirited and callous woman you could ever not want to meet. She will cause a scene just to do it, just to get a rise out of someone, because she is bored and isn’t getting paid any attention. Which, to her, is all the time.
My mother is bipolar, with severe manic-depressive mood swings that leave you gasping for breath in the wake of an episode, the same way you gasp for breath after being sucked under by a huge wave of water. My mother has Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). There, but for the Grace of God, go I, as the saying goes. Continue reading
Our Haunted House
Anyone who grew up in a haunted house knows the things that can happen to a family in such a place.
I can remember the time when my brother John had a paper route, for which he had to get up early in the morning to deliver the newspaper. How my brother talked me into helping him on this particular Saturday I can no longer remember. But what happened that day will remain engraved in my memory.
It was a spring day and my brother went onto our front porch to get the papers. The milkman was also making his way up the steps, to bring my family’s daily delivery of fresh dairy. I figured, since I was up anyway, why not hit Mr. Milkman up for some chocolate milk… and put it on my mom and dad’s tab. Continue reading