In Memory…

When I was a little girl I believed that the Memorial Day parade was for my birthday.  This belief was instilled in my young mind by my father; who told me so, every year of my young life, while we stood waiting for the festivities.  It was an innocent lie told by a wounded soldier; fresh out of Vietnam, to his child whose birthday landed at the end of May. I soon learned the real meaning of Memorial Day…

The town I grew up in; Whitefield, NH, took the Memorial Day parade seriously.  The procession; led by the High School Marching Band, wound through the streets of the town, meandering from graveyard-to-graveyard, like a star-spangled snake.   Veterans in dress uniforms, carrying guns were followed by Girl Scouts & Boy Scouts proudly waving flags, wearing their mismatched pieces of uniforms, sashes, badges, and pins.

It was a natural transition from celebrating the parade as my own, to being a Brownie (young Girl Scout) dressed smartly in my very own uniform, waving a flag with all its glory. I knew why we marched, I knew about battle and war, and people dying.  I had heard stories of war my whole life, I lived in a house where war and it’s toll could not be hidden.  I knew my father had lost his eye in war, and I knew he considered himself one of the lucky ones, for he was alive.  The war had taken much from him but had it not taken his life.  I also thought it somehow made sense being a Medium and the child of a wounded warrior that I should be born so close to a day that honored dead warriors.  After all, there are no such things as coincidences.

I remember the importance I felt as I marched in the parade as a child, and I remember thinking how magical it was that we were having a celebration for the dead.

My favorite part of the march was the graveyards…

I loved the way the energy changed when we entered each of the village cemeteries.  I loved how the band would change its tone, and separateness settled upon the progression like a veil falling over the face of a widow.  Being a Natural Medium, my senses heightened at these times.  Graveyards were always busy places, but Memorial Day was special…like Samhain/Halloween it was a day when people came to honor the dead & the dead knew it!

As the band stopped it’s tune, true silence fell over the parade.  This was a truly powerful moment of honoring; the fact that we had marched into the graveyard, played our tunes, waved our flags and then stood silent until the sounds of guns firing broke the air.  I often shed tears at this moment, ‘the wyrd kid’ crying while the others fidgeted.  I could feel the space around me filled with the emotions of the Spirits being honored.  I imagined them to have stories similar to those my father told, filled with people they loved and left behind, battles they saw and tragedies that befell them.  I was so happy to be part of honoring those who fell to the hands of war.

My father carried this flag in his pack while in Vietnam, it was later draped over him; a shield of honor, as he passed into Spirit in 2012.

I seldom make it to the Memorial Day parade anymore, never having found the connection I had to the hometown festivities I experienced as a child.  But I do think deeply on the Fallen each year as my birthday approaches.  I know it is important to honor those whose lives were lost to battle and to remember those who came home only to pay War’s Toll through years of P.T.S.D., disabilities and late-life side effects of chemical exposure; my own father amongst them.

My deepest thanks and honors to those who have passed due to their service.  Wishes of love & healing to the families who grieve the fallen.

spreading love-salicrow

 

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STORIES OF SPIRIT…Once a Marine, always a Marine [communicating with a wounded warrior]

*photo Stahr Cabral

By this point many of you already know that I was raised by a Marine, in fact, if you have read my book Jump Girl, the initiation and art of a spirit speaker’, https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/562306/jump-girl-by-salicrow/9781623171926/you know just how much this factors into my life.  Growing up the child of a Vietnam Vet; who came home with 100% disability due to the scars received in service, I knew full well the sacrifice made by those who wear uniforms.  I was taught to respect and show thanks for those who served, for they have all made sacrifices n doing so.

A few weeks ago; thanks to my dad {who passed in 2012}, I had the opportunity to honor one who had served and to help bring closure to his family.

I was performing Spirit Gallery (large group spirit communication in which selected guests receive messages) when something unusual happened.  My attention kept being drawn to a woman sitting on the right side of the room who had an empty bubble around her.  Which means the space around her was noticeably void of Spirits.  This alone was not what surprised me, as I have encountered other people with this phenomenon, what I found shocking was my Dad was standing next to the woman telling me I needed to call on her, and he was insistent.

Sometimes when someone is deeply mourning they will create a hardening of their Aura/Biofield (the energetic field surrounding the body).  When this happens the space around a person becomes repellant to spirit activity.  It is not something someone intentionally does, but more something that happens when our emotions are so intense that we both want and fear contact, the fear being more of a fear that communication is impossible.  This is often enforced by the fact that the spirit of the Beloved Dead may be showing up in the dreams and peripheral vision of others, leaving the one with the hardened Aura wondering why their loved one is visiting others but not them.  The answer is pretty easy…they can’t get through because of the barrier.

When the women sat down in front of me, I explained that she had been called because my father insisted I bring her up.  I went on to explain the shield/hardened Aura I saw around her, and that it told me her loss was a very deep one.  I also felt that the loss was very recent.  As soon as she said she was looking for her father, the hardened veil came down and I could see him standing before me with my father.  I told her I saw he was wearing a uniform, and simultaneously she and my father told me that he was a Marine. With this revelation, it was clear why my father had been interested in helping him get my attention.

I went on to tell her that her father had something wrong with his lungs (he died of lung cancer), and that the illness was caused by his time in the service.  She then said her father had been in Vietnam.  It was an interesting conversation, in which my Dad was assisting her Dad in getting his messages through.  My dad kept telling me that her father had been a hero, which it turns out he was not just a hero in his service, but a true hero in her personal life.

*When someone is called up as a guest at a Spirit Gallery, I really only have about 10 minutes with them tops.  This, in my opinion, does not offer adequate time to get all the messages through, but it does give them time for the important stuff so that you can see that it is really them.  I told her that her father was a very stoic person, and had a hard time expressing his emotions.  Which she validated by saying that he was very quiet and that even when he was dying he did not complain about his situation.  He also shared with her his deep love for her, and how important she had been in his life.  All the while, my father just kept inforcing the words “He’s a real hero kid!” Later after the session, the woman approached me; while I was signing books.  She shared with me a bit more of her father’s story including how he had truly been a hero in her life.

I was greatly moved by the visit from her father, and my fathers interest in helping him get his message through.  While talking we discussed the fact that both of our fathers had been Marines, & Veterans of  Vietnam who died due to complications of Agent Orange affecting their lungs.  Best yet they had both been named Richard!

I am forever in awe of the world of Spirit and the lengths they will go to when it comes to communication.  Where one stoic hero could not make a connection on their own, another gregarious one stepped up to help a brother out!  (Thanks Dad…you will always be my hero).

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Stories of Spirit…The Sacrifice of War (remembering my father)

Today is Veterans Day and I am thinking of my father.  His whole life or at least the life that I was witness to was enveloped around his service in Vietnam.  His thoughts, actions, and values were reflective of this pivotal time in his life, and his physical limitations were created by it.  He carried a pride that had been drilled into him by boot camp sergeants and fellow soldiers, in the essence of his being he was a Marine.

 

Growing up the child of a wounded warrior, I knew the toll of war.  My father was missing an eye, a fancy piece of glass made to resemble an eye sat where it belonged.  As a child of four, I once accidentally witnessed my father cleaning his eye.  Walking into the living room to find him with his eye in his hand and the socket drooping on his face I was horrified.  I screamed and had to be comforted by my mother.  For days I was afraid of my father, not understanding what I had witnessed.   I have found myself revisiting this moment time and time again in my memory and can’t help but think how terrible it must have been for him, knowing that his appearance had scared his own child so.

Many of my father’s wounds were visible, the glass eye being the most noticeable.  He had physical markings to show that he had been damaged beyond repair, that war had taken a great toll on him.  But he also carried many deeper wounds that were not visible to the eye, wounds that affected how he saw himself and the world around him.  These hidden wounds were far more painful than the loss of an eye, for he was haunted by his actions and the things he saw during his time of war.

Mike Emory (my father’s mentor), Grammy Brown, My father Richard, his younger brothers Teddy & Eddy.

My father grew up very poor, raised by his grandmother in the deep North Woods of New Hampshire.  He lied about his age and joined the Marine Corp at 17 so that he could send money back home to take care of her and his younger brothers.  Having grown up wandering around the woods, his skills made him a natural for reconnaissance work.  This was what eventually took his life at 62.  He did not die from the grenade that had taken his eye and left him with shrapnel in his brain, in the end, it was the exposure to high levels of chemicals (agent orange) that destroyed his body.

He was thankful for the years he had between the grenade and his death, seeing them as borrowed years.  Years that allowed him to get married, have 3 children, and many adventures.  But those years between were not all good.  Along with the physical ailments the grenade had bestowed upon him, he also lived with nightmarish memories.  In trying to escape the thoughts that plagued him, he turned to alcohol and other substances for comfort.

redemption…re-connection after 13 years of not speaking.

My father’s story, in the end, was one of redemption.  He eventually found a path healing, after many losses and many bottles.  He lost his family to his own alcoholism and then found it again through sobriety.  He found a deep spiritual center inside of himself and embraced the gifts that were his birthright, seeing himself for what he had been all along, an intuitive medicine man.

Medicine Man

My Dad’s final goodbye

My experience growing up the child of a wounded veteran shaped me as it did my father.  Living with him, his addictions, and his pain, I gained a deep understanding of the hidden anquish anyone who has seen war experiences.  This exposure has led me to work with many veterans.  I have a great respect for the price they pay, and an understanding of the wounding they carry.  I do not think there are words deep enough to express how much respect I have for those who have served.  Whether I believe in the war they fight or not, I respect the soldier.  I know that there are many reasons why they enlist, choosing to fight for their country.  For some, it is a deep feeling of patriotism (something my father also had), but for many their choosing is much more practical.  They see military service as a way out of poverty, a way to provide a better life for themselves and the ones they love.  They take the gamble, rolling on their lives and mental stability, with hopes that they will be among the lucky.

I would like to take a moment to pause and send love and healing to all of our men and women who have experienced the service of war, and I ask you to join me.  Here is what you will need…

*a candle, *a flag or item that makes represents military service to you, * photos of your own loved ones who have served

Set up a small altar with the items of memorabilia & photos & light your candle.

Focus on your Heart Chakra, directly in the center of your chest.  Take deep even breathes through your nose.  With every inhalation imagine you are filling your chest cavity with love, with every exhalation imagine sending that love to everyone who has served in the military, starting with those close to you and expanding outward.

Do this for about 5 minutes then speak clearly out loud “Thank you for your sacrifice”, and blow out the candle.

Remember not all wounds are visible, not everyone is walking around with a glass eye or a prosthetic leg.  Most of the wounds of war are buried deep within.  Support your local VFW, and Veterans home.  Buy the red poppy from the guy sitting at the grocery store today.  Hell, donate more than is convenient, after all, we can not come close to matching the donation they made.  Remember to thank them, truly and deeply for they deserve our thanks.

I would personally like to thank the men and women who have served this countries military.  I have deep respect for the sacrifices you have made and understand the price it continues to ask of you.

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Stories of Spirit…I Choose Not to Hate [tolerance, social media, and respect]

It’s hot, too hot for late September in northern Vermont.  I am irritated and tired.  I don’t particularly like summer weather in July, let alone when it’s almost October.  The irritated part of myself is dumbfounded by the craziness of the country we live in and the multitude of ways we are distracted by the things that don’t really matter.

Social media is going crazy with meme’s of the flag; from people sharing their frustration over people not respecting it, and just as many people declaring the right to freedom of speech and protest.  I am not here to choose a side.  In fact, I choose not to take a side as I feel the whole thing is distracting from the death and destruction that has befallen thousands of people affected by the recent hurricanes and earthquakes.

*photo Stahr Crow

I understand people are passionate about freedom and the flag.  On a personal level, I stand with the flag. My father was a Marine wounded in battle, who spent most of his life carrying the scars of his service.  That being said I respect the fact that we live in a country which grants us the freedom to honor the flag or not, depending on our personal values.  That freedom is what men like my father fought for.

This blog is not about the flag, it is not about protest, it is about paying attention.  We are living in a time of great change, and we are all being triggered.  The change I speak of is happening on multiple levels.  It is an energetic change, in which the human species is evolving, becoming more empathic.  It is a change on an environmental level, in which our planet and its people are suffering the consequences of the abuse we have placed upon it.  It is a change brought about by overpopulation and the fear of not enough and it is the change created by global socialization and electronics.

We are in many ways overstimulated.  Like a child diagnosed with attention deficit, we are unable to stay focused on anything for long enough to understand it.  We are jumping emotionally and analytically from subject to subject, tragedy to tragedy, afront to afront without actually taking time to sit with our thoughts.  Where last week we were pulling together for our family, friends, and countrymen who were facing the onslaught of natural disaster, this week we are up in arms with our opinions around an athlete and his behaviors.  Really? Is he so important that his actions deserve our attention in the same way that hundreds of people losing their homes and livelihood does?  Are we really that fickle that our thoughts are turned by something that should be featured on the front page of a tabloid?

Now don’t get me wrong.  I understand he is doing something he feels is important, just as those of you who oppose his actions, and those of you who applaud his actions feel your opinions are noteworthy.  But let us take just a minute to think how this hatred, and separation into factions is taking its toll on our nation.  We are self-destructing and in many ways, it’s due to social media.

Social media can be a thing of goodness, connecting us to our family & friends through pictures and stories.  It can even be a source of education if we take the time to check the facts and make sure it’s not made up bullshit.  But it can also be a virus, one that slips into our thoughts filling us with feelings of insult and injustice.  It can separate us into categories that we wouldn’t even know we existed in 10 years ago.  I grew up with an understanding that there were certain things you didn’t talk about in casual conversation with those who were really not much more than acquaintances…because let’s face it, that’s what Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram friends are.  Hell most of us have friends on Facebook that we wouldn’t even stop to chat with if we saw them in the grocery store.  But here we are shooting off about whatever comes across our social media feed to whoever will hear us, and we are doing so with passion.

I am not asking you to agree with me, and I am hoping you will read this blog article with the love I am intending it to be laden with.  I am not trying to insult anyone, I am simply asking “Would you go into your local grocery store, pub, or library and speak out as in the same manner as you do on social media?”  

We need to realize we are all being triggered.  We are being triggered because we are scared.  Deep down inside there is a fear that comes from the discontent of our nation and climate change.  I am not asking people to turn a blind eye, I am not asking people to stand by when injustices are happening.  I am simply saying we need to take a moment, sit back and ask ourselves if we would so vehemently proclaim our opinions if we were standing on the local street corner, mini mart, or school function.  We need to remember what it means to be decent and kind to one another.

This triggering I speak of is multi-faceted.  As I said in the beginning of this blog it is partly due to the fact that we are becoming more empathic.  That means as a species we are developing another sense, a sense that allows us to feel the emotions of others.  This can be overwhelming, and can easily feel like an out of control game of pinball, with emotions flying all over the place.  Without understanding what it means to be empathic or how to control it, we are bringing in emotions from everyone we come in contact with, and as we do we mix them all together and shoot them back at the world to be mixed in with others emotions.  You can see how this can quickly become a mind-fuck.  The thing is, this emotional craziness is not limited to sharing physical space with others.  It can be picked up over the internet, through social media.  We can feel the emotion people put behind their Facebook status and Tweets.  We can feel it and we are responding to it.

When I was a girl I went to family counseling at the VA hospital when my father checked himself in to deal with his alcoholism.  In the meeting, the counselor told me and my sisters that in an alcoholic family the children statistically fell into particular personality types, as a way of coping with the addiction.  As he spoke I recognized myself in one of the descriptions, and my two sisters in other personality types he spoke of.  This set off a revolution in my head.  I did not want to be a statistic.  In fact, I refused to be a statistic.  The information I was given challenged me to change how I was living, as I did not want to live my life following a pattern created for me out of destruction.  I feel the same way about social media and the effect it has on our behavior.  I refuse to become someone who sits in the safety of my living room preaching hate!  I refuse to allow myself to forget my humanity and social conscience.  I may not always agree with my neighbors, but I do not need to fight with them over every last thing that pisses me off.  Frankly, I just don’t want to live my life with that much negativity in it.

If people spent half as much time doing something kind, as they do bitching about what they don’t like in the world we would find a lot more peace in our lives.

I am not asking people to stand down in regards to things that they are passionate about.  I am simply saying we need to think before we post on social media, imagine that the audience you are speaking to is standing in front of you, all of them…your whole audience.  Some opinions and conversations are best spoken to our trusted friends, and family, not our acquaintances and neighbors.

I will continue to send energy to the people of our nation and the world.  I pray for peace, tolerance, and understanding.  I am proud to be an American, even if I am not proud of all of the actions happening in our nation at this time.  I am also proud to be a kind person, one who chooses tolerance and love over intolerance and hate.

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STORIES OF SPIRIT…Crying on the Couch

Owenegaut, the cave of the Morrigan.

Owenegaut, the cave of the Morrigan.

I sat on my couch in the early hours of the morning, and cried.  I cried for the state of our nation, I cried for the lies that are spoken, I cried for the hate mongering and xenophobia.  I cried for the Muslims, and I cried for the under-employed youth of our nation.  I cried for my friends who are Queer.  I cried for Black Mothers who fear for the lives of their children, and the Native American who fight for their lands.  I cried for the water in Flint Michigan, and all the waters of the world.  I cried for the living, and I cried for the dead.  I cried for those who have no dreams in sight, and for those whose dreams have been washed away in a haze of disdain.

I cried for the world, and the world cried with me.

There is a heaviness to our world right now, and many of us feel overwhelmed by the weigh of it.  We are emotionally exhausted, and many are living in a low level state of fear; wondering what is to come next, how far will this craziness go.  We know that the outside world is looking at our country like we have gone completely bat-shit crazy.  We keep hoping that we will wake up and this will all be a nightmare, and we can go back to life as normal.

Well we cannot go back to life as normal, nor could we stay in the sedated place of non-action we have existed in for the last few decades.  There is a sickness in our nation, and often as it is will illness, it must get worse before it gets better.  Like a body fighting off a virus we must rise to the occasion, utilize our antibodies and take action against that which is causing us harm.  This sickness is not something that came out of no where.  It has been there for a very long time, under the surface, running us down.  It was inevitable that we would come to a moment in time such as this, for a people who feel hopeless will often make rash decisions, and often those decisions will lead to crisis.

We are in a time of crisis.  But crisis is not all bad.  Crisis sheds light on that which we have kept festering in the dark.  Crisis brings opportunity.  Crisis demands action, pushing us off our fat rumps.  Crisis gathers our neighbors, friends, and community to our side.  It bolsters us, and melds us into a force of unity.

When a natural disaster hits an area, people come out in the masses, neighbor stands by neighbor, lending a hand where needed, getting the job done, without the regular bullshit of “I have things to do”.  There is nothing more important at that moment then the crisis at hand.

We are living in such times.  For some of us the storm has not hit close enough for us to get excited yet, to prepare ourselves for action.  But it is only a matter of time, before even the sheltered hermits among us, must descend from the forest to see what the fuck is going on.  Such times are meant for community to stand together, to unite as a force bigger then any one man or woman ever could be.

I do not ask you who you voted for, I do not ask you to march or to protest.  I ask you to consider your life, and the life of your neighbor, and your community, and to ask yourself “What do I stand for?”  I ask you to come together with your neighbors, and friends, and to start a discussion on that.  “How do we stay strong together in these times of struggle”.   “Will I wait until they are coming for someone I know?”  “Will I hide my head in the sand and say nothing, do nothing, while the country I love becomes less?”

I believe in America!  I believe in the people of America.  We are a nation that has been made stronger because we are a melting pot.  We are a like a good mutt, stronger and smarter for the mixing of our bloodlines.

My Ancestors knew persecution.  My great grandmother had to hide her Native blood as a child, for fear of being taken away to an Indian school.  My Irish relatives from my fathers side were Traveling People, or Gypsies.  They knew what it was like to be scorned and discriminated against.  I myself am a Psychic and a Witch.  We all know how I would have been treated a few centuries ago.

I am sure that each of us has a family story in which our Ancestors experienced persecution for one thing or another, from their nationality of origin, color of their skin, religion, sexual preference or simply their economic status.  If we take a moment to sit with ourselves, and connect with our Ancestors, we will see that this fight for equality, and justice is something that is personal to each and every one of us.  “There but for the grace of God, goes I”.

The first step to overcoming this calamity, that has beset our nation is to stop letting FEAR run the show.  Fear is the soul eater, it causes us to run scared, bury our heads in the sand, shove Ring-dings into our mouth, drink too much and pace endlessly in the loop of our mind.  It has no value, other then to let us know that something is not right.  It is an alarm, and like all alarms, once they have alerted us to the situation their job is done.

DO NOT FALL BACK ASLEEP!  Fear gave us the alarm, it alerted us to the fucked up situation that is around us.  Now we must take action, we must get moving, get organized, and come together.  I am not asking you to picket, I am not asking you to march.  I am asking you to become a supporter of your community.  It makes us feel good to help others, it takes our mind off of fear, and gives us purpose.  Look at the situation at hand and ask what you can do.  Whatever it is you choose to do, please, please, connect with your community.  This alone will help you to find your spot.

GET CENTERED…understand that mixed into this slurry of chaos is the fact that we are going through a Psychic Evolution.  We are changing as a species, becoming more attuned to the world around us.  We are becoming EMPATHIC as a people, developing the ability to sense the emotions of others.  This adds a lot to the mix, for it means that the fear, and anxiety we are feeling is not just ours.  It belongs to the guy sitting next to us on the bus, and the co-worker who is sucking down sugar like a feen; trying to feel something other then worry.  It belongs to our mother, our kids, our husband, and our friends.

Empathy is an interesting thing, for it works both ways.  Those of us, who are the most Empathic, are also the best at sending our emotions out.  In this way, the Empaths are broadcasting emotions out into the world.  The problem is most Empaths don’t know a thing about how to control it.  So we sit there absorbing the pain and suffering, and then we turn around and amplify those feelings, before sending them out like a wave around us.

What if we, the Empaths decided we were going to utilize this knowledge and choose what we were going to broadcast out?  What if we chose to send out Love instead of Hate, and Bravery instead of Fear.  After all they are simply opposite ends of a pendulum swing.

freyjalterJust for today, choose to be an ambassador of Love.  Whatever lands in your lap, whatever news you hear, whatever approach you take to the situations of your day, choose love.  Choose your words to support, and strengthen, not to degrade and breakdown.  Even when standing against apposing forces we can choose to do so with love.  We can choose to see that what we stand against is already broken, and that by embracing hate we are perpetuating that which we do not want.  Because hate destroys us from within.  It consumes us, torments us, and leaves us empty.  Love gives us hope, love supports us, strengthens us, and pushes us to be more.

Do not stick your head in the sand, stand bravely and with purpose, but do so with love and kindness.  Do not sink to the level of name calling and trash talking, that gets us no where.  Move with purpose, act with forethought, and find your center.  When we choose bravery and love, we are no longer victims, we are crusaders out to make a difference in whatever way we can.

Know that you do not walk alone in these hard times, our Ancestors are walking with us.  Not just our personal Ancestors, but the Ancestors of our country.  Those proud Americans who have fought for this country we call home.  I am proud to be an American, even if I am not proud of the state it is in at this moment.  I love this land, I love it’s people, I love my community, and my neighbors, and my sweet loving family.  I love you, and I believe in you.

Finding my words stops my tears, and my fears.  I too have moments when it feels overwhelming, and I want to go back to bed and wake up when it’s over.  But then I remember I was made for such times, I chose to come in at this moment and in this place.  So I will put on my mud boots, and get ready to clean some shit up.  I hope you decide to join me, I hope you decide to replace hate with love, and I hope you see just how powerful you are.

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