Stories of Spirit…When Death Comes Suddenly [the unexpected death]

Last week, I was sitting at the bar of the Publik House in East Burke, having my weekly cocktail and burger.  My husband and I try to get out for ‘date night’, weekly.  We are predictable.  We generally eat at the same place, sit at the bar, and I have a tendency to get the same thing (not because I am boring, but because my list of food allergies/intolerances  is quite extensive).

While we were eating, we got on the subject of death and dying, something that may not be common dinner conversation for most, but than again I’m not like most people.  I talk about death a lot!

The conversation was about the act of dying itself.  My husband was talking about how he believed he would eventually die from something like the flu, or some other weird illness.  As he took a drink of his beer, he went on to say that it was probably a better way to die then most…a bit of high-temperature, delirium, and a slow fade into death.  This led to a list of all the less then pleasant ways that people could pass, to which he added massive accident to the top of the list.

In theory, I could understand this belief, as often the bodies of people who die such a fashion, are dramatically damaged, and people who have lost loved ones in such a manner are often scarred by the memory of what happened to their loved ones body.  The belief many live with is that their loved one suffered horrendously.  But in fact, it is often not the case.

One of the things I have learned from the Dead, is that older Spirits; people who have incarnated many time, have a tendency to jump-ship at the moment of impact.  Their previous lifetimes of dying, having prepared them for how to leave the body quickly.  With their death imminent, they do not stick around for the pain, they choose instead to step outside their body, and experience their death from the perspective of the observer.

Time and time again, Spirits I have communicated with; who have passed tragically, will tell me how they stood beside their body, as emergency technicians tended to them.  Some speak of standing vigil with their body until someone found it.  Some speak of being in a coma, watching and waiting as their body went through the act of dying.  They stress the fact that they did not suffer, that they were ejected from their body almost instantaneously on impact, and often talk about the people who were around them; both medical personnel and loved ones.

Years ago, during the Ovate year of my Druid training, I explored my own death.  We did this by doing journey-work/guided meditation to first imagine we had a year to live, then a month, a day, and finally we were sitting at the moment of death.  We were looking to see how we would choose to experience death.  Later during the same weekend, we dug our own graves, and were placed ceremonially into the Earth…sleeping in our graves, we spent the night with whatever emotions came to call.  As powerful of an experience as this was, it was in many ways easy for me, as I have had a deep/personal relationship with death my whole life.

However, about a month or so after the death weekend (sleeping in my grave), I was pulling out of a busy intersection with my son.  He had been trying to listen to his music on the stereo, but for some reason nothing was coming out.  As we pulled out of the intersection, the radio came on, blaring music.  In that moment I was so shocked that my spirit stepped out of my body.  I hovered above myself for a brief moment, long enough to think…”Oh shit!  We were just hit by a car, I must be dead.”  I was not in distress, I simply believed that my death had come for me.  My next thought was “Well, that’s that, I hope Kaolin (my son) is OK”.

Seconds later, I realized I was not dead, and settled back nicely into my body.

That moment has stuck with me for years now, my mind going back to it over and over again, when I meet with families who have lost their loved ones due to tragic accidents.  I know now, that I too would step quickly out of my body, if faced with such tragedy.  Hell, I will most likely jump out of my body if there is too much discomfort, let alone immanent death.

I find that death is often misunderstood, and rightfully so.  We don’t get a rule book, or even much of a way of an agenda.  None of us know when or how we or the ones we love are going to pass.  Death can come for us at any moment.  I suppose that is why people can be so troubled by it.  When left to nothing but our imaginations, the stories we can come up with are vast, and generally a lot worse than reality.  We humans have been living and dying for a long, long time now, and we have learned a thing or two about it, even if we don’t seem to remember the process.  For those who have lost someone tragically, I hope these words can be of some comfort.  Knowing that the ones we love passed in peace, is something we all hope for.

spreading love-salicrow

Stories of Spirit…the Sorrow of One [mourning alone]

As a Medium; I have encountered death in many, many ways.  My first brush with death occurred when I was 3 months old, and my father’s, mother passed.  This event, was something, that showed others in my family; particularly, Grammy Brown, that I was able to see/perceive Spirits.  Since that moment, death has been a constant companion of mine.  I have had many personal losses, and have stood witness/messenger, to countless numbers of others.  There is no ‘one-way’ to experience the loss of death, for it is a multi-faceted, and generally requires us to experience it’s power over and over again; sometimes through deep sadness, sometimes through rage, sometimes through an emptiness that would challenge the vastness of space.  One thing that remains constant when it comes to death is that we all mourn alone.

No matter how much we share love of someone with another, the feeling of loss created by death is a lonely thing.  It is something that demands privacy, taking up long hours, in our mind.  It is something that shows up when we are having a great time, reminding us that something is missing, often asking us “How can you be so happy, when your Beloved Dead is not here to join you?” It speaks loudest to us when we are feeling vulnerable, or doubting ourselves, telling us that we will never find happiness again, without our beloved.  The closer we were to the death, the harder and longer it sits with us.  When enough time has gone by, and others see that we should be done mourning, death requires us to hide our sorrow, “move-on” the outside world says, but death whispers quietly in our ears “stay, don’t forget how important they were to you”.

There is no easy answer here.  I cannot bestow words of wisdom upon you, that will take away your sorrow, like the brush of a magic wand.  But I can tell you that communication helps.  Not just Spirit Communication, although in truth communication with your Beloved Dead, is one of the most powerful healing tools I know of, as it gives us the proof that they are not truly gone, but simply existing in another realm.  But not everybody is open or has the ability to make connection with their dead, so that is why good old fashioned talking about it is helpful.  Friends, counselors, and support groups help us to make peace with the sorrow of our loss, even when the others we speak to cannot fully understand our pain.  The act of sharing it, helps us to move it from the hidden realms of our mind, into the light of day where it can be cared for.

This advice is particularly important for those who have experienced a deep loss, such as that of a lover, child, or parent.  When we loose the ones we hold most dear, their death will become a constant companion of ours.  It will attend us in our every day life, and go with us to special events.  It will come around heavily, laden with emotion on the anniversary dates of their loss, and their birthdays, and anniversaries.  It will show up, when a song comes on the radio, or a childhood toy reminds us of them, when the weather is just so, and when we wake slowly from a dream in which they have come to visit.  For those most heavily hit by the loss of a loved one, death will return again, and again, and again.

So what can we do in those overwhelming moments?  What can we do to ease our pain, and find peace?

First of all we must remember we are human, and innately flawed.  We need to be patient with ourselves, and practice the art of  ‘speaking vulnerably’, which simply means talking when you feel weak.  Not everyone can do this, in fact most people stop talking about their loss, thinking that others will perceive that they should be over it by now.  It is my belief that people are generally kind.  That if we tell them we are having a hard day, and that death is speaking very loudly to us today, that we are in a deep space of mourning, they will understand, and most often seek to give us support.  The problem is, that most of us do not do this when we are feeling vulnerable, instead we batten down the hatches and prepare to ride out the storm.  In doing so, we often act in ways that are not really pleasant to ourselves or others.  We may even find ourselves lashing out, again at ourselves and others, and when it is done, we feel like an asshole, but lack the means to explain our actions.

Secondly, I recommend setting up sacred space for our Beloved Dead.  A simple shelf can be turned into an altar or shrine, with just a few items and some attention.  Place a picture of your loved one, who has crossed over, on the shelf, as well as any mementos that remind you of them.  Light a candle, and sit with them for a bit.  Even if you do not sense them, know that they are beside you.  For as a Medium, I know that our loved ones in Spirit are reaching out, trying to help us heal…even when we perceive them as having moved on, there is a part of their essence that stays connected to the ones they love.

We all mourn alone, and some of us do that more truly then others…This is most true for people who pull themselves away from the world of the living, identifying their loss as the story of their life.  It is also true for those who have loved in secret, been the other woman/man, or who have had a relationship that was hidden from the real world.  The loss in these cases can be overwhelming, and again…my answer is talk about it.  Find a friend who understands, or a counselor/healer who gets you.  But do not suffer with your loss alone.

I hope you found this article helpful, please feel free to share it, as I believe it is a message that needs to be heard, again, and again, and again.

spreading love-salicrow

 

 

 

Stories of Spirit…Remember the coffee [offerings for the dead]

I woke up yesterday morning, excited at the prospect of heading into the woods.  Not just any wood, but one that I hold dear.  I was heading to the Middle Falls of the Ammonoosuc River, in Bretton Woods, NH.  I hadn’t been there since early winter, when the snow was new to the ground, and I was anxious to connect with the earth in one of the places I hold most sacred.  I was going to river for a quick photo shoot with my friend Stace; for the back cover of my book.  But, as it happens so often in my life, the Universe had other plans for me, other ways in which I could be of assistance to those in the world of Spirit.

I browsed through Facebook, as I sipped my morning coffee, and immediately connected with two posts from clients of mine who had crossed the border of relationship, to now be known as friends.  Both of them were posting about the long term sorrow, of loosing a child, each of them feeling that pain in it’s intensity, as the time of the children’s death was now.

I thought on how the loss of a child is the most painful of all deaths, as there is nothing that can compare to the grieving felt by those who have had to bury their children.  I do not say this lightly, I say this with the experience of a Medium with many years of practice, and interaction with both the dead, and those who morn them.  I do not say this to lessen in any way the loss felt by those who have lost husbands, wives, mothers, and fathers.  I say this for I see it as true.  This truth comes from the fact that we all believe our children will out live us, and that we hold a responsibility for their well being.  This truth is not just applicable if the child is under the age of 18.  If a 75 year old mother looses her 50 year old son, she will still hold a level of irrational responsibility, as if she could have somehow done something to change the outcome.

Upon reading the post from my friends, an commenting with love and support, I realized that one of the women, mentioned the very place I was heading to that day.  She did not specifically name it, but knowing her, it was clear to me what place she spoke of when she mentioned heading to the river in a couple of weeks with coffee and flowers for her daughter.  At that moment, Spirit poked me in the side, and I replied to her privately that I was going to the river that day, and I would bring her daughter coffee.  I asked her how her daughter liked her brew, and waited for her response, but none came.  She had left for work, and would not respond to my question until early that evening.

As I picked up my friend, and we began our drive east to the river,  I told her of my intention and how simple offerings were so powerful.  Often people who have passed into Spirit long for their favorite treats, and truly enjoy when we think of them while offering up such goodies.

The car ride was long, but we are dear friends, and the time flew by in a series of conversations, and laughter.  When I got to the town of Bretton Woods, and approached the turn that would take me onto the river road, I had totally forgotten that I was going to stop at the mini-mart to get a cup of coffee for my friends daughter.  She did not forget.

Just before the driveway to the mini-mart, I heard a voice clear in my head…”Don’t forget the coffee”.  I laughed, realizing, that she probably didn’t want me to give my coffee, up as an offering, as she didn’t strike me as the kind that would like an unsweetened latte, make with coconut-almond, milk.  So, I made a quick turn into the parking lot, and went in to get her offering.

 

coffee offering for the Beloved Dead

As I poured her coffee, I decided I would make her a generic style coffee, with sugar and cream.  I poured about a teaspoon of sugar in the cup of hot coffee, and went to place it back on the counter, when she spoke up again, “I need a lot more sugar than that”, and that she did.  I found myself making coffee candy.  I added about 3 more teaspoons of sugar to the coffee, as well as, a quick shot of marshmallow flavored coffee to the cup, and a whole lot of cream.

When I got to Middle falls, Stace and I trampsed the short distance into the woods to one of my favorite mossy spots, to take pictures.  I placed the hot, sweet, candy coffee on a moss covered rock, and set about giving my offerings to the Spirits of the land, before we got down to the business of pictures.

I laid out a crystal grid on the moss, in my favorite hidden glen.  It was amazing to me how such a place, has the ability to set itself aside from the vision of most people.  For their were paths all around the woods, trampled down by snow shoes, until they were like sidewalks through the forest.  But the glen I love so dearly, with its magical bits, and plethora of Nature Spirits, showed no sign of human traffic.  The pathway to my sacred space was covered in snow, untouched by the feet of humans.  I know that others had visited this space over the winter, but those others  like me; who were seekers of the sacred.  Even they had not been there in quite some time.

The spirits of the land were just waking up there, and there were signs that the inhabitants had enjoyed previous offerings as we found a bottle of fireball whisky, snuggled into the thick moss that covered the glen.  Something I was not at all surprised to see, as some of the heartier of nature spirits that inhabit the place, like their offerings to be a bit more brisk.

*Please note-I take it upon myself to clean such sacred spaces, and will be back in the spring to clean up the remains of offerings, and any debris that is left behind.

My offerings were not as spicy as fireball whiskey, but I did light a cigarette, and give it a few puffs, for my father, and for the spirits who enjoy the energy of tobacco.  As I am not a smoker, my dad had to be satisfied with the little bits he got, but in giving offerings, it is important to remember that more important then the actual offering, is the nature in which it is given.  What are you thinking when you give an offering to your Beloved Dead, or the Spirits of Nature, is far more important.

I then set about creating a crystal grid, my true offering to the land.  I had selected crystals that carry the vibration of peace, wisdom, and the removal of negative energy.  Helping to strengthen the land, and the Spirits that reside there, as they wake from their winter slumber.   My offerings given, we began our photo shoot; Stace trying to find balance in the snow to take the pictures, and me billy-goating up onto the moss covered rocks, so she could get the pictures she wanted.

Pictures done, we made our way to the river itself, where coffee was offered up to my friends daughter, my words making it clear that the coffee was from her mom.  After giving the coffee to the river, I sat with Stace and my dad (in spirit), and admired the power of nature, and the raw force of Spring.  It was a powerful visit, one in which I was happy to be the delivery-man, to the Spirit world.

When I got home from my adventure, I had a reply waiting for me on Facebook, and I had made the coffee, exactly how her daughter liked it, extra sweet, and extra creamy.  I had a brief conversation with her, and found out that the last cup of coffee Mom had bought her, had come from the same mini-mart.

I love being connected to Spirit,and am thankful for this life I live; that is so filled with magic and mystery.  Thanks for reading folks.

spreading love-salicrow

 

 

 

 

 

Stories of Spirit…Convicted of Witchcraft [Alison Balfour died at the hands of men]

crowsaliToday’s tale is spun of truth, the actions being factual, the fiction comes only in the flavoring of the tale, and the expression of emotion shown.  The emotions were imagined by me, as I sat preparing my story for the Bardic telling.  I wrote this tale in the Fall of 2008, after reading of the real story of Alison Balfour, a woman convicted of witchcraft in 1594.  Her story touched me, and I remembered as my own.  I have told this story a few times before, speaking it aloud, as if the words were my own.

The last time I performed it, my father was there.  When I was done, he walked over and hugged me, saying “I am sorry that happened to you.”  I do not know that this story is truly mine, I do not know that I was Alison Balfour, but I have my suspicions.  One thing I do know, is that if I was not she, then we shared similar stories, for the writing of her tale was like remembering a dream, a very unpleasant dream.

I wrote & performed during the bardic year of my Druid training.  It is based on the historical details of a woman (Alison Balfour) who was convicted of Witchcraft in Scotland in 1594.  I share this story now, as we once again live in a time, when people are persecuted for their beliefs and their spiritual practices.  I am ever thankful to live in a time when I do not have to hide my abilities for fear of persecution, but I have not forgotten, and I do not turn a blind eye on the persecution of others.

And so the story begins…

As many of you know already, I stand before you a self confessed Witch.  Many moons and many faces I have worn since the days of the fire, but memories born in flame are hard to forget.

The Earl of Orkney, Patrick Stewart or “Black Patty” as he was so often called by the people of the land,  was a tyrant…a greedy, arrogant son of a bastard.  His father having been the illegitimate son of  King James the fifth.  He was a despised man, and it came as no surprise to me, that someone had tried to poison him.  The  word of importance here is ‘tried’.

The failed attempt at poisoning “Black Patty” was blamed on his brother John Stewart, the Master of Orkney.  As you could not come right out and blame a noblemen…and someone must be brought in for questioning in the affair, his servant, Thomas Paplay was brought in.   Now I do not blame poor Tom for what came next, as he was a simple man used as a pawn.

For 11 days Tom held out to their torture, even though they crushed his arms in “Caspies Claws”.  Then in his defeat he named me a Witch, and a conspirator in the poisoning of “Black Patty”.  It was no secret that I knew the ways of medicine, and as rumor had it….magic.  They came and dragged me from my home, away from my aged husband and children and commenced to working my confession out of me.

Henry Colville, the Parson of Orphir…that vile excuse for a man of God, was called upon to “question” me.  They had found a piece of wax in my home….wax , such a funny thing to bring about ones demise.  This wax had come from the home of Patrick Bellenden, the Lord of Stenness.  The Lady of Stenness was suffering terribly with stomach problems and I had agreed to work my charms on healing her.  Its funny how ones gifts often so appreciated can quickly becomes ones bane.  Henry refused to accept my answer, as he was convinced that I had used the wax to concoct a poison to kill “Black Patty”, and that Lord Bellenden was part of the ploy.

My torture or questioning, if you  like was carried out in the castle of Kirkwall.  They crushed my legs in “Caspies Claws” for  48 hours.  I reached out to my Gods and retreated inward…refusing to  confess to a crime I did not commit……..Then they brought in my family.

My husband was a great deal older then me, at 81 he had lived a long life.  I loved him dearly, but could not confess.  They placed him in the “Long Irons”,  and proceeded to crush him before my eyes….50 stones they laid upon his chest, 700lbs in terms you would understand now.  As he died before my eyes, my resolve began to crumble, but I heard his voice clear as day inside my head urging me to stand strong.

My son, came next.  A strong lad…just entering manhood, handsome and brave.  He stood before me and said “don’t do it ma…don’t let them condemn you for a crime that is not yours”.  Even now all these years later, life times passed I find myself drawn to tears as I think on his brave soul.  They placed his legs in “the boots”, drove the wedges in and crushed his feet with 57 strikes of a mallet.  57 times my heart cried out, begging the gods by all their names to stop this torture….to free my son from his earthly prison.  As he collapsed upon the floor, my life slipped colorlessly before my eyes. I thought I had endured all the pain a person could take….and then they brought in my wee lass.

7 years old and bright as a sunny day.  My daughter, my joy, the love of my womb…I could not believe that even the evilness of “Black Patty” could claim the life of one so innocent.  But there she was, her tiny fingers being placed into the piniwinkie…and I could take no more.  As they began to crush her finger I cried out my confession.  I confessed to consorting with the devil, to poisoning the Earl, and to many other atrocities’ too dark to repeat. Inside I begged the goddess above to forgive me for my lies, but I could take no more.  Darkness enveloped me and time took on a dimension unknown to those that have never truly suffered.

My confession earned me the punishment of execution…seeing how Witchcraft was considered a form of treason in Scotland, I would be burned at the stake.  As I was found guilty, the fee for services rendered…torture, execution and such would be deducted from my families estate.   The Gallows in Kirkwall was my final resting place on December the 15th, 1594.   As burning is a rather noisy way to dispose of a living body…strangulation was customary, prior to the stake.

As I stood awaiting my death…the darkness of my mind cleared, and I found my voice.  “I Alison Balfour, do stand here before you an innocent woman.  My confessions that of a mother seeking only to spare her children!”  The crowd went silent, and my soul was released from hell.

John Stewart, the Master of Orkney stood trial for seeking the aid of a Witch…for the destruction of his brother Patrick.  He was acquitted, as the evidence which lead to my death was thrown out of court, on the basis that it had been obtained under torture.

Henry Colville, the hand of my torture….got his due.  Traveling on the Earls business in the summer following my death, he was come upon by the Master of Orkney and 30 of his men.  They proceeded to unmercifully slay him…I will leave out the details for those of you weak in the tummy.

And…Black Patty, I have saved the best for last.  The son of a Bastard, the Tyrant of Orkney was beheaded in 1615 for treason to the crown.

May all those who have been persecuted find peace!

spreading love-salicrow

STORIES OF SPIRIT…Healing the Spirit of the United States [sending love to the Genius Locus]

winterwonderwomanI do not Hate!  I do not hate those who’s opinions differ from mine, nor do I hate the ‘Haters’ of the world, for hate is a self destructive energy.  To hate another I need to extend my energy in a hostile manner.  To hate I must spend my time focused on that which I do not want in my life.

This does not mean I turn a blind eye to the injustices of the world, it simply means that I will not approach them with malice and spite.  No venom drips from my teeth, and no insult gains way on my tongue.  When those feeling rise to the surface of my mind, I breathe deep and remember that even the shadow has it’s purpose.

I went to the Women’s March of Unity in Montpelier, VT yesterday dressed as a Vermont Wonder Woman; hats, sweaters, and practical boots included.  I did this because I felt it was important to stand for love, justice, and equality.  I also felt it was important to represent America in my actions.

I believe patriotism matters, and I believe in the spirit of Wonder Woman!

Wonder Woman represents ideals that I value, and has always been my favorite heroine.  She is strong, focused, and has great integrity.  She does not turn her eyes away from trouble, but faces it head on.  She carries herself with such balance, that she never mistakes justice for vengeance.  Nor is she unforgiving, and she is never mean.  Wonder Woman stands for justice, and believes in her country.

I believe patriotism matters…My father was a Vietnam Vet.  His service and dedication to his country, not only effected his life, but the lives of all he touched.  He was proud to be an American, even though the country he loved so much, showed him malice and hatred when he was most in need of comfort.  He faced his fellow Americans who thought him a baby killer, and he chose not to hate.  He did not Hate his country, he loved his country.  I will not say he never experienced anger, for he certainly did.  But he did not turn his back and hate the country he called home.

I was raised with a deep Patriotism.  One that carries with it an understanding that I will never have the same views as everyone in the country.  That we will disagree over and over, and over again.  But that these differences are not with my country itself.

As a Druid, I believe that all things have Spirit.  As a Psychic Medium, I am fortunate enough to communicate, see, and experience these spirits.  They are not exactly like the Spirits of the Dead, but they are real all the same.  Druids refer to the Spirit of Place as the Genius Locus.  It is the energy that encompasses a place, holding the essence of it’s being.  I remember this every time I stand in support.

I remember the Genius Locus of the United States.

When my father died he began pushing on me his strong Patriotic values, and he did this by utilizing my love of Wonder Woman.  He started with clothing.  He really loved wearing red, white & blue himself, and he wanted me to.  He would say this to me over and over again, and I finally gave in when he said “Wonder Woman loved red, white, and blue Sali”.  I added a bit of black, but I gave in.  He has been dead 4 years now, and my love of Wonder Woman clothes is still going strong.

It’s about more than a costume though.  I really believe we have to start supporting the Spirit of the United States, the Genius Locus of our country. We need to start sending love to the Spirit of America itself.  Not to their version of America, or our version of America, but to the Spirit of the country itself.  If we start sending love and healing to the Spirit of our country, perhaps what is best will naturally appear.

I do not say this in a sparkle, love & light, only good thoughts version of reality.  I say this with the strength and justice of Wonder Woman.  I mean really send out some healing love to the Spirit of our country.  Remind her that she was is growing, healing, and a creative force.  She can choose between love or hate.  Show her that we trust in her.  This is something we can do, no matter what side we believe we stand on.

We all want LOVE in our lives, safety, security, and justice.  We may have different ideas on how that is reached, but we all want it.  Growth requires trust, we need to trust in a higher power, and send as much love to the situation as we possibly can.

Genius Locus (the Spirit of place), is not limited to the country.  There are natural forces, and land spirits that watch over States, towns, waterways, and homes.  

Often when people are struggling to sell their homes, they come to me asking for advice.  I always tell them to communicate with the Spirit of the house directly.  To tell the Genius Locus how much you have appreciated it, listing the wonderful ways your home has supported you.  Then to explain that you must move on, and ask the Spirit for help finding the right people for it.  You can explain what you would like to see for the house.

This technique is truly helpful.  After all we all sense the energy of buildings and spaces.  Take a minute to think about it, and you recognize that you feel good in some places, and uncomfortable in others.  This is due to the energy that the space holds.

smudge2The United States could use a great big smudging.  We need to take a day and collectively get out our Sage bundles and smudge the fuck out of our country.  Clean off the goobers of hate, anger, and dysfunction.  Then we need to set up some intentional altars to hold space for the United States, and send it some serious love.

If you look at it from the terms of Quantum Theory; which has proven thought matters, then we need to look at the fact that we are generating more hate, and discourse if we approach this with anything but love.

I marched in the Women’s march yesterday, and was over joyed to see all the signs that talked about love, and support.  I was not as happy to see the ones that preached hate at one man.  Not because I agree with him, but because hate is still a powerful force, and it is one that is counter productive to change.  How can be anything other then what we hate, if we are preaching hate?

How can we be more?

We can be more by standing for LOVE!  We can be more by talking about the things in our country we love, the things we want to see flourish.  I am not asking for people to put their heads in the sand.  I am simply asking that we open our hearts and speak on the things we love, as much as the things we hate.

Yesterday, I felt tremendous LOVE.  I felt that people were energetically linking arms and hearts, spreading out a gigantic web of goodness over the country, and the world.  We were saying that we all matter.  That was powerful, and good.  We just need to remember that when we let hate slip into the mix, we taint ourselves, and our work.  We need to remain focused on that which we are seeking…a safe, loving, supportive world.  A world that is strong, and healthy, a world where are children, and our children’s, children can flourish.

Here is a simple way you can start making a difference…

candle-lightSet up a working altar dedicated to the United States.  Any flat surface will do, the top of a dresser, a shelf on a book case, etc. The key to  a working altar, is that everything placed on it is done so intentionally.  No loose change, receipts, and keys unless you have a reason other than laziness for it.

Place items on the altar that represent the America you love.  Pictures, postcards, souvenirs, family pictures, soil, rocks, religious items, etc.

Place a candle on your altar.  Every day find 5 minutes to work with your altar.  Simply light your candle, stand or sit in front of your altar, and tell the genius Locus of the United States what you love about her.  Allow yourself to deeply connect with the Spirit of the country, remembering that we are inside of her energy right this very minute.  We are connected.  Tell her your dreams for her, and your hopes, speak of her strengths, and share your support for the battles she is fighting.

Blow out your candle and go about your day.  Throughout the day when you are feeling overwhelmed, scared, or unsure of the state of our nation, remember the candle, and the work you are doing.  This takes your energy away from fear, refusing to fuel hatred and fear, and gives it to that which you are working to create…love, justice, and healing.

I also encourage you to start speaking out about the reasons you love your country.  Start sharing that in conversations with friends, colleagues, and strangers.  Where patriotic ensembles if you are so drawn, do not wait for the 4th of July.  We need to remember we achieve nothing if we forget that this country belongs to us, and we belong to her.  We need to stand in support, the United States as we want her to be…healthy, strong, and kind.

Our views on what makes America great may differ.  We may hear things, see things, and interpret things different than one another, but we all want to be love.  So does the Spirit of the United States.

Please know that I hate no one.  There is no one I hate.  I refuse to waste my energy on such things. Thanks for reading folks.

spreading love-salicrow

Stories of Spirit…True Love [connecting partners through the veil of death]

My love...

My love…

I have sat across the room from a complete stranger, and known what it feels like to be deeply, passionately in love with them.  I have had my heart swoon with the joy of being in the presence of someone I barely know.  This is not something I have done once, but something I have done many, many times.

My work as a Medium often puts me in deeply emotional situations with people, particularly when I am meeting with an individual for a one on one session.  When someone chooses to come alone, wanting to meet with me by themselves, I know that the Spirit they are seeking is someone they had a deep, personal relationship with.  Most often these sessions mean someone has lost their partner/spouse.  These sessions are often my favorite, and I feel honored to witness the love of others.

When sitting with a Spirit, my connection to their emotions strengthens with time spent.  As Individual Spirit Communication sessions are usually an hour long, I get to become quite well acquainted with my guests.  The sessions where partners are visiting (living and dead) are my favorites.  They often start out with deep sadness, with the loss being tremendous on both sides of the veil.  The living suffering from the loss of their dead, and the dead suffering with watching their beloved in pain.  But the sessions soon turn to being a time of re-connection.  I am moved by the amount of time the dead spend watching over their living, loved ones.  They often bring up current events, that are happening in the lives of those they have left behind.  This enforces my belief that they see us more easily then we see them.

After my first few times of sitting as Medium for lovers, I found that I understood the reasons the dead partner was in love with the living partner.  I found I was attracted to their hair, or their eyes, that my heart was warmed by their smile and that I loved their sense of humor.  This did not have anything to do with my own feelings, in fact I knew instantaneously that I was experiencing another’s love.  This experience is not limited to the sex, or age of the person across from me, for love is blind and has no care for such things.

I feel fortunate for this experience, this glimpse into the love of others.  I often wish that I could share the raw emotions, and the deep vale of thoughts that flutter through my mind when I experience the love of another.  I imagine it would be truly healing, if the living could feel how much they are still loved, and realize that death is not a barrier for such things.  I don’t believe we ever truly get to experience how another feels for us, for we are not sharing a mind with them.

The part I find most interesting is the little things that make a person love another person.  Those idiosyncrasy that make us special in the eyes of another.   It makes me realize how ridiculous it is to be seeking perfection.  For it is the little oddities, the imperfections or differences from others that are often most cherished.  I have heard dead husbands picking on their wives for turning the house into a ‘girly house’, all the while knowing that they are beaming with pride that their wife has found her way.  I have had wives comment on how their husband fashioned himself a golf pro (when he clearly was not), all the while knowing that she adored this boy like quality of his.

Love is a beautiful thing, and those of us who are fortunate enough to have experienced the true love of a partner are blessed.  I have met with people who still deeply mourned their loss partner, even though 40 years have passed.   I have met a man who has not changed the location of a single item that belonged to his wife, even though she has been gone for over 30 years.  Her sweater still hangs on the end of the bed, and her very out of date make up still sits on the bathroom counter.  Love is a tremendous power.

Today I give thanks to all of you who have allowed me to share in the love of partner, across the veil of the living & dead.  I want you to know how truly blessed I feel for the experience.

spreading love-salicrow

Stories of Spirit…Faith in Dying [embracing death]

cave5Death is the inevitable piece of life that we must all face.  It is part of the natural ebb & flow, something we all can count on, for there is not one among us that will escape it’s embrace.  Death is not discriminating, it does not judge.  It comes for the rich, the poor, the old, the young, the kind and the cruel.  It holds the power to break apart lives and to bring lives together.  Culture, religion, and personal experience all have influence over how we face death.  For some Death is an old friend, to be embraced when he comes a calling.  For others Death is a fearsome thing, lurking in the shadows, waiting to steal us away from all that we love.

Faith is the key to a good death.  I am not talking about religious faith, although that can be helpful.    The Faith I speak of is to trust in the process of death itself.

frozen-bubblesFaith-complete trust or confidence in someone or something.

We all know that Death awaits us, we know that like all who have walked before us, and all who walk behind us, we will die.  It is the most predictable thing we will experience on our walk upon the Earth.  Yet many of us struggle when Death brushes up next to us, we fight the inevitable, bucking and screaming like wild banshees, saying this should not happen to me.

I am not suggesting that people throw in the towel whenever illness presents itself, nor am I saying we should stop striving for life, health, and more time.  I am saying that we as a people have to become comfortable with the concept of Death, we need to have faith in the process and accept that it is natural and sound.

betweentheveilI am thankful for the advantage my life as a Medium has given to me.  I do not need to rely on faith to ensure me that there is something more waiting for me, and those I love when our time of dying approaches.  I know because I see, feel, hear, and sense those who have passed into the world of Spirit.  I know that Death is just a passage into another way of being, and that the soul remains intact.  I know that we are reunited with those we love, that our Beloved Dead will be waiting to embrace us and welcome us home.

Many people struggle with Death, unable to find solace and comfort in the last hours of their life…but still they die.  Even if I didn’t know there was something more waiting for me on the other side, I believe I would still embrace the act of dying.  I would do this because the resistance of death leaves one in turmoil when our end days comes.  If there was nothing waiting for me, I would still want the last days I had to be ones of peace and solace, instead of resistance and pain.

I have never encountered a soul that was doomed to hell, nor a soul that was banished into oblivion, nor have I been told that someone was sent to either place.  What I have experienced, what I do know, is that we all must review our lives when we pass.  If we have done a lot of things we regret, the process of review is going to take us a lot longer.  This review shows us in detail the experiences of our life, as well as how our actions effected others.  We see how we were loved, even when we didn’t feel it, and how we influenced the lives of others.

Faith in dying, allows people with long term illness to explore some of their memories before hand.  Getting our affairs in order, does not just speak of bank accounts and insurance policies.  It means we look at the way we lived.  We give thanks, we make amends, we appreciate the beauty of the life we have lived, and we love deeply those who walk the path beside us.  Faith means we surrender to the circle of life we are part of.  When we die there is no need for disappear, we simply step through the doorway into another way of being.  By surrendering to the process, we find a deep level of peace.  We start to radiate wisdom and wholeness, which allows those we leave behind to heal faster, as they know we are OK.

When Spirits talk to me of their Death, they often tell me whether they were ready or not.  They speak of what helped them to find their faith.  Old souls have a tendency to do this naturally, without struggle they know Death will be just fine.  When my Grammy Brown died, she did so by choice.  I do not mean she committed suicide, I mean she chose to let go.

She had been ill for a long time, and she was at the point where my family could no longer take care of her at home.  She was determined that she would not go to a nursing home.  She did not fight the family, she simply said she would not go.  The night before she was to be transferred from the hospital to an assisted care home, she died.  She did this because she was ready, and she had faith in the afterlife.  She knew she would be fine, and she simply surrendered.

Many people linger in the act of dying, and they do so for various reasons.  Some stay for the family who struggle with their passing, some have unfinished business that rattles off through their minds.  Others linger because they are no longer in control of their facilities, such as people with Dementia, and Alzheimers.  But the majority of people who linger on in deep illness, are doing so out of fear.  They fear the unknown, worrying what awaits them when they leave their body.

We must find faith in the process that has been going on since the beginning.  Death is the most natural thing in life, and it happens to us all.  Whether you are facing your own Death as you read this, or have a loved one struggling with theirs, know that there is a choice in how we face it.  We can face our passing with dignity, strength, and courage, surrendering to that which will not be denied, and we can help those we love to do the same thing.

Ask these questions in the time of dying.  “What do you still need to accomplish?” “What unfinished work do you have?” “How can you feel complete?”.

I spend a fair amount of time counseling those who are in the process of dying, and one thing I know for sure is that it needs to be talked about.  Often when someone is dealing with terminal illness people avoid speaking of Death.  They do so out of fear, fear that Death will come quicker if he hears his name called, fear that the dying will be hurt by your questions, fear that you are giving up.  This has to be overcome.  We need to start speaking of Death and finding solace and faith in the fact that it is the most natural thing around.

Our culture is obsessed with youth and beauty, and has chosen to turn its face on anything old, fading, and unpleasant.  This obsession has made it harder for people to face Death, seeing it as something foreign and fearsome.  We need to remember the teachings of our Ancestors, the natural way in which Death has been experienced and held sacred throughout time.  We are living in a time of great change and we are the ones we have been waiting for.  We have the power to bring dignity and beauty back into dying, so that those who come after us will have no longer fear that which cannot be escaped.

I hope you enjoyed the read folks, and that this is helpful to all those facing Death.  Remember it is beautiful, sacred, and powerful.

spreading love-salicrow