“The story starts in the middle, with the pain like fire. It has a molten core that I can identify — with my eyes closed I zoom in, past the radiating shards that pulse out of my joints to the ends of my limbs …
The agony is nightly now, beginning soon after sundown and jarring me awake after midnight when the slightest shift in bed strikes the flint. And tears are already streaming to the pillow when I come to.”
Although the moment is far in the past, I return to this excerpt about my experience with debilitating illness to remind me that diving with faith and boldness right into the core of suffering is actually part of what we are here to do. The most treacherous stretches of life are soul-opening … and the pathways to a far better reality that we have constant access to. I didn’t know until I had faced suffering how far my natural ability to connect with spirit would take me.
My story, and the very human journey it describes, is shaped at every step by my connection to — or at times, distance from — divine guidance. Once I let back in the cast-out gift I’d arrived with as a child to hear messages from spirit, I turned to relentlessly studying that gift instead of dwelling on conformity or self-doubt. I comb through the spiritual beliefs of teachers from Albert Einstein to Thich Nhat Hanh and friends and strangers around me who I’d call accidental gurus … and I often find the essential scaffolding of my own beliefs is not so different from theirs, though our differences hold mystical keys to new doors we’re being compelled to open in this era of global change.
With expanding knowledge of different wisdom traditions and my training for mediumship and spiritual coaching, I found myself helping more and more people. In every connection, whether in one-on-one spirit readings or groups and workshops, giving voice to and learning from the divine spirits among all of us is my utter joy and your invitation a constant honor.
Thank you for subscribing to be part of the story.
watercolor by Anabel Shuckhart, 2020 Living in California, I witness a lot of conversations about real estate. Home prices, relocation, asset management, remodeling and renovations … all topics that slide into time with family, friends, and strangers almost daily. Even in my high school, teachers used mortgages to teach math...Read More
What are we supposed to do when there’s nothing to be done? None of us could avert that question this past year thanks to the virus that stopped us in our tracks. Even while our cultural chorus exalting personal power reached a crescendo and the verb “manifesting” abounded to mean...Read More
Mary Mell Roberts Edwards was born in Norman, Okla., in 1924 to J.R. and Leona (Ford) Roberts. After her father completed his education in mortuary sciences, he moved the family to Blackwell, Okla., where he ran Roberts and Sons Mortuary for many decades. In contrast to the family business, Mary...Read More
Here in a time of pandemic is what our Divine One gives us: “Anything uncomfortable that you face, child, is forcing something new from you that you’ve been refusing to try. Did you hear that? Everything uncomfortable is stretching you, by divine design. The global nuisance of a fast-spreading virus...Read More
Dear M’lady … You are so fine in those resplendent robes of silver and gold brocade and braids down to your round ass. You know it distracts them from your cussing tongue when the neighbor has left his double-wide chariot three feet over the line and in your way all...Read More
I was a weird kid in disguise. That combination — the disguise and the weirdness equally — defines my whole story. I can’t ever pretend I’ve known the suffering of being blatantly, overtly the persecuted or odd kid out. I had incredible privilege, being able to pass under the radar...Read More