January, 2017


Today is a 12 day, which reduces to 3, the number of creation; starting the year off with a day of creation.  Philomena and Marie spent New Year’s Day with me.  3 of Cups.  Lovely.  Tarot readings all day.  Great food.  Black eyed peas with cilantro and chia seeds and rice and sweet potatoes for dinner and a great omelette with bacon, tomato and feta for breakfast.  Great day.



Message of 2017 for me:  smile.  It is essential that I be positive and happy and optimistic.  To the point that I fake it if I have to.  I received these two gifts today:  a tangerine aura quartz angel necklace from Philomena and Llewellyn’s Witches Datebook for 2017 from Marie.  Significantly, the Witches Datebook comes complete with a Smile Meditation and a very strong urging to do this meditation regularly.  The energy of the tangerine aura quartz is joy and positivity.  Okay.  The message is clear.  This is the path for 2017.


Every year, my friend Mary O’Hare, who crossed over a few years ago from an aneurysm, says Happy New Year to me.  On New Year’s, after the year she died (on 12/21 it was I believe), I opened my facebook email and there was a Happy New Year’s greeting from her from a prior year.  It was just too weird.

Yesterday, on New Year’s Eve, I saw a license plate with O’Hare on it.  I knew it was a message from her.  And today confirmed it.  Philomena was reading tarot cards for Marie, and Philomena said the term La Putina was coming through (Italian for prostitute).  I recently received a package from Mary’s sisters with letters and postcards and pictures from the many years of our friendship.  In it was a postcard I had sent Mary decades ago.  It was primarily red and featured a 50’s style illustration of sexy woman from the back, looking over her shoulder.  It was titled “PUTA” and it was the cover of dimestore paperback.  (Caption:  Her mother was a Spanish prostitute – a “puta” – her father unknown.  How could she be anything more than she was?)  Anyway, I drew a little Christmas tree on her ass and on the flip side wrote:  Merry Christmas, Puta!  That was my Christmas card to her in 1985.

She kept all my letters.

There is no greater gift than the love of a friend you trust, even the ones who have crossed over.  They are with you always.


I have accomplished a miracle, for me at least.  I set a boundary:  one I would not have in the past.  So well in fact that it proves impenetrable.  I have quite succeeded in this.  Every day the teenagers who live with me test it.  They are shining light on the path of self-mastery.  Every time I lose it, I see that I have more to learn and more in myself to master.  I lost it so big time last nite with my teenaged daughter Tessa.  I yelled myself hoarse.  I tried doing my vocal exercises today, but had abused my instrument from God and of God, a thing really that we have all forgotten is holy and powerful, by using it to express anger with every bit of vocal force in me.  I hurt only myself.  And, honestly, what is there to conquer?  I don’t believe it is always an act of trying to conquer though.  We’re human.  I’m human.  And sometimes I’m just mad.  Pissed off.  But, I’m seeing myself doing so much better with these human ways now.  I can immediately see this as a mastery step.  Tessa, Ridge, Sybil:  among the most important teachers in my life.  I am grateful for every lesson.

But, guess what?  No one is filling up my space and my house with a gang of teenaged people tonight!!!!!  It is the first snow night of the year.  No way.  Absolutely not.  Pout.  Be mad.  Don’t speak.  I don’t care.  I have got to be alone.  I have pushed hard all week at work and we’re having a management shake up and we’re all shocked by it and sad and just trying to adjust to a sudden, significant change.  My intuition tells me this is a trial run and that more is coming.  This is giving us time to learn how to ride waves with currents like this.  When more comes later we’ll have experience in navigating big swells and crashing waves in the dance of control and surrender that makes life move beautifully.  I trust us to find peace, even amid tumult.  It is there.  Because it is here.

It is here with me.  I bring it to the world.  This is my contribution.  Peace in my soul.

It is the greatest gift any of us ever gives.  What I do to myself, I do to you.  What I do to you, I do to myself.






My friend Jersey, the one the needle put in jail, wrote me recently.  He said when he meditates he always gets to this place where he is like a rock in a stream and the thoughts stream by like water.  That’s some badass stuff right there.  I see him as a crystal in the river, polished smooth, glistening, pure energy.  God bless him.  Brave journey this soul took.  I have the deepest respect.  A severe trial of the soul and the courage to stand and find himself and to keep standing.  What a test of strength of mind and will and spirit.  I send him deeksha now.

Thank you, God for my friend Jersey.  And Tessa, Ridge, Sybil.  I could type this list all night long.  All the things to say thank you for:

Blue sky, gray sky, orange, dusky red sky.  Pink clouds, white ones, ones that look like lumpy sheets.  This crisp smell of snow in the air.  The dull luminosity of snow clouds at night.  The dogs insisting on their walk, so that I am sure to see it.  Thank you, my guides, my dear little sweet spirits:  Pippa and Puggles, it’s okay if you pee the mats.  I love you anyway.  Reliable companions for love and holding and absent-minded petting.  It matters so much.




The most delicious soup I made, the plenty of whatever I need to make the soup, the stove to cook it on, the spoon to eat it with, just the right size, that’s what I like about it.  The pretty bowl I pour it in.

The beautiful ring Philomena gave me, the one I am wearing right now; the beautiful crystals I gave Marie; the yellow roses I bought today because Marie suggested it on New Year’s Day and Dr. Weil suggested it again today on his audiobook, Spontaneous Happiness.  The Holy Basil and turmeric supplements I am now taking, the former on his advice, the latter on the advice of the lovely associate at the vitamin shop, who said it helps creaking in the knee.  (I am wondering if I wandered into another dimension?  I have never seen her there before, nor since, and the assistant manager did not acknowledge her when I mentioned her.  Hmmm.)

I could spend the rest of my life typing this list.  I’ll give it a rest now.


A soul who must love me very much gave me the hardest lesson of my life year before last.  This is the soul that got me really good at boundaries, caring about my space and making sure it serves me.  Paying attention when a circumstance or choice is about to sweep it away into something different, to ensure I understand the value of the choice I make in the very moment the choice matters.  The gifts of presence and self-command are what I received.  Priceless, really.  Still alive to tell about it, too.  The gift of awareness.

The backstory, the big one, as my devoted study leads me to believe at this point, is this:  We are made of love.  That is the truth of our being.  We are each of us a delicious and unique tone of love.  We are this madly, wildly, unimaginably harmonious vastness of song of immeasurable different notes, each strain perfect and lovely on its own, together exquisitely resonant, ecstasy, lifting you from yourself.  Can you imagine that much vibration moving in harmony?  That is our truth.

Heavy human form does not readily feel the truth of this feeling:  it is too vastly different from this experience to translate it at all in any semblance close to its essence.  But, in our subconscious, we know it.  Something within us stirs when we talk about this because in our core, we know its truth, even if we cannot here in this time and place approximate its feeling.

Here, on this plane we try something different.  We try being out of sync.  Cacaphony is a lesson too.  A lesson in the one soul school that features the learning modality of duality.

I saw 5 blackbirds.  It was today or yesterday.  They called out this contemplation and understanding I experience now.  The clashing cries of blackbirds.  5.  The number of change.  Of conflict.  Part of the movement along the path of mastery.


I tried out cacophony of an immense loudness of clashing vibration with this soul mate.  It taught me how to build walls.  Fortresses.  Strong ones.  To stand my ground.  I look out over the landscape from my perch.  This is where that traveling mate took me to.  The lesson I learned.

More is to come.


Strength gathers behind these parapets, before the foray onto the next path.


Something I am puzzled about.  Why I so very much like dark nothingness.  I am going on another shamanic journey soon.  I wonder if I will go to the place of dark nothingness in the sky somewhere in another dimension.  What is that place?  And why do I like it so much there?  Everyone is all about love and light.  But, I like the dark place too.  It feels safe.  I am invisible there and it feels warm and I feel happy and content there.  Hmmm.


Just had a weirdo hippie moment.  Spontaneously, as I was walking by himher (I know this term will piss off every teenager in the house, whose ridicule for using it I patiently await), I reached over and touched the top of my guitar and said I love you telepathically (best not to say such things out loud to inanimate objects—even though their consciousness is as much present as yours or mine—they live too-they just don’t speak our language, but the language they do speak is so exquisitely beautiful.  It doesn’t need words).  Anyway, most are not prepared to watch another have a part telepathic part regular conversation with a guitar.  You might be taken to treatment against your will for that.  So, it all just has to be telepathic.  It’s fine.  That works.  You just have to trust that what you think you’re hearing . . . you are actually hearing.  Listening with an ear turned to the invisible realm.  Things are truly clearer there.  That is why I keep dreaming of glass so clear it is supernatural.  I dreamt of a lantern with glass so clear and a golden light so pure it could not be of an earth realm.  And then again last night, I dreamt I was lying in a crystal box, glass this same clarity as that in the lantern.  And I thought, oh, I am the light.  Hmmm.  Maybe to some other being on a planet far, far away, when I meditate and picture my chakras swelling and expanding in waves to the edge of the universe, all the way to where there is only endless dark place, I twinkle like starlight.  Maybe this happens when I sing and play and write new songs too.

So, I went around the room and telepathically said I love you to every piece of equipment in the room.  I had a very good day.  I discovered that I have the technical competence to make a video and I believe I can get mixed sound off a board for music into the video, so I’m down with that.  Amen.  Now to figure out how to get a decent mix on the sound.  Hmmm.  Okay.  What instruments to use?  Ridge has taken ownership of my Paul Reed Smith SE.  And when I get a new one he’ll want that one.  So, if I want mine back, which he’s broken and the intonation is off, hmmm then I have to get him a better one.  Okay, I set my intent for Ridge and me to both get new PRSs with perfect intonation at the same time.  I’m looking forward to this.  All the equipment we’d like and the know how to use it efficiently.

I am very grateful that my video efforts worked out today.  I asked the angels ahead of time to walk with me to a place of ease and success.  I had to work for it, but I do believe I have figured it out.  Need to decide which board I like better.  The Yamaha or the Allen & Heath.  My darling Tessa bought me the Allen & Heath with money she’d earned doing transcriptions of Swedish interviews on Upwork.  What a good soul.  And, she’s learned some Swedish.  It’s ridiculous.  She sounds like she’s from there.  At least to me.  Being someone from here, who’s never been there, but has some thought of what that accent would sound like.  It’s funny as hell to watch your kid talk Swedish.  My God.  Hilarious.  I’ve had some fun times lately.

I got a hypnotherapy recording from my hypnotherapist, Virginia.  In it, she says:  “I choose joy.  I choose fun.”  So, I let that run in my sleep at night.  Tessa listens to Swedish lessons in her sleep.  She reviews once while awake and then sets it to play again while she sleeps.  She repeats this.  And, to me, she sounds Swedish as all get out.  So, I must be choosing fun and joy and because I’ve installed that message in my sleeping thoughts dozens of times.  Tessa’s ability to sound so Swedish is proof.  Amazing!!!  The universe sends me the most interesting communications.

I’ve listened to the fun and joy hypnotherapy for months.  I’m wondering what’s next?  I haven’t decided.  I will turn my thoughts to what new magic of thought and feeling I will sow in my garden next.  What do I wish to sow in the garden of my mind, where I grow my thoughts, which in their own turn, make my life?


I just received a message from the other side.  Boundaries.  Boundaries will set you free.  Because you can be safe and in turn, know you can feel free and be yourself there.  Within these walls, freedom.  Mm.  Mm.  Interesting.  I need to learn a scale and the chords in that scale, or at least enough of them to achieve the mood and feel I hear streaming in my head.  Okay, will do.  The boundaries of the scale will help.

And the looper.  So I can add singing.  Interesting.  Okay.  Lyrics.  Can try channeling them.

So I’m singing to the universe and singing for the universe.  Send me something pretty.  A meaning.  Another meandering stream.  I’m floating from above.  A yellow balloon in my eyes.  The grand river a little winding string beneath me.  Angels carry me on an invisible swing.  Oh, it’s that I’m out of my body now.  The sun has never looked like this before.

(Hmmm.  That was a try.  I think I can do it.  Something like that would do for song lyrics.  This should be interesting.)  Note to self:  cut and paste these to a file for jam lyrics.

I do believe that I am having fun.  I choose fun.i-choose-fun

Now, on this snowy, snowed in night, the first snow of the year, I am going to make broccoli cheddar soup and watch either Portlandia or Everclear videos or Alice in Chains videos.  Or maybe something spiritual?  Hmmm.  Something new and interesting.  These new ascension meditation videos are fun.  They have very new information that I have not heard before.  Some of the near death stuff, while there’s more of it, can get a little preachy because of where those souls are on their path.  I’m not so much about that.

I do like the really good ones though.  You have to sift to find them.

Okay, time to cook.


So much to talk about.  Have been extra busy.  Made a video to submit to NPR contest.  Bruce texted me at work one day and told me about the contest and said I should enter.  It took me so many steps to prepare an entry.  I had to figure out what equipment to use to get a decent mixed sound and a decent visual quality (I wonder how you get a little more rosiness?).  I had to figure out how to connect it all.  I had to buy the cables to connect it all.  I had to test drive it.  Changing lights, camera angles, etc.  It took many tries to get a shot framed in an acceptable way and a sound quality that is mostly good (two loud “c” consonants on the word, “curled,” which is repeated twice and an overlay of hiss that I can’t figure out how to get out).  But, those were the only things I would change if I knew how, but I don’t, so they’re staying in.

I did it!!  Philomena said I would.

Very happy.  I feel very accomplished.  I did a lot of it myself.  Bruce gave encouragement.  Tessa made some of the equipment picks and will do editing.  I did all the rest.  Researched, wired it, tested it, changed it, tested it, changed it, you get the idea.  Rounds of that ‘til it was framed well, clear and sounding for the most part good.  Now, I do have a clear lack of stage presence, but I don’t care about it at all.  I’m not a performer.  I’m a songwriter.  But, you have to be a performer in some fashion to share the art you channel and mold.  Hence, I perform, but I’m not shaking my booty or even smiling much.  I am trying to get the sound of the words as optimal as possible within the range of my ability to fit the feel of the song.  It’s fun to focus your mind on trying to hear the nuances of voice that match the feeling the words want it to have.  Sometimes I forget.  But when I remember, I like the way it sounds much better.

Whew!  Four days ahead of the deadline.



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