What's in a Quote?

by CJ Heck

“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do. And, by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale

When I first read the above quote, it touched me down inside on a soul level. I don't know why Mr. Hale wrote the quote, or the story behind it, only that it was a quote one of the college football coaches liked to use to pump up the guys in the locker room before their games.

I thought to myself, if I were to highlight the important words in each sentence, that quote is whispering to ME. "I AM only one, but I AM ONE. I CAN'T do EVERYthing, but I CAN do SOMEthing. The SOMEthing I OUGHT to do, I CAN do. And, by the grace of God, I WILL."

There was something in the quote that whispered to me when I first read it. The quote spoke to me of all of the military vets out there. This was a motto all of them lived by, even if they never heard the quote before, they took it with them -- to Vietnam or Cambodia or Afghanistan or Iraq -- They had it with them wherever our country sent them. They never complained. They did what they had to do. They did what they were trained to do and what they were told to do. They did what they thought was right.

There were several reasons why I started my third blog, Memoirs From Nam. None of the reasons included wanting to cause anyone undue anguish by digging and poking around where veterans, their families and friends had buried so much for nearly fifty years. I started Memoirs From Nam with all of the best of intentions and with gentle whispers from the Universe.

One night, just before sleep, I shared some frustrations with my spirit guide, Dinahh, about needing more closure regarding my first husband, Doug, who was killed in Vietnam. I even wrote a blog about it here on Knowing Whispers a few months ago. Here's an excerpt from that blog:

" ... It was Dinahh who suggested that part of my healing and further spiritual growth would be in helping others who also still carried so much hurt with them. He felt I should invite them to feel the fear and pain of the past, embrace it along with me, so we could all let it go and begin to heal.

Dinahh said, "Catherine, as I've told you before, do this and be patient. Open your heart and share your own feelings. Let your blog be a safe place for community; a place of peace and for sharing; be comforted knowing you are doing what in your heart is loving, and it will be. With us, everything is always as it should be. There is no time, only infinity. You must be patient. Do what you can and ... it will be."

Do what I can ... now THAT is exactly what the quote whispered to me. I am doing what I can, because I can do no less ...


Namaste, my friends!

Memoirs From Nam

The Tide of Life

Expression and Reflection
[The Tide of Life]
by Robert Cosmar

Life is a tide of outgoing expressions and incoming reflections. Daily we are called upon to serve the expressed wishes of others, and then nightly we reflect on our own lives, where we are and where we're going. Nothing is constant; all things change. This tide causes us to examine what we believe, how we think and what we want. It makes us examine our deepest desires and intentions. This tide then asks us, "Are we honestly being true to our real nature?"

Our real nature is not divided or confused. It is clear, intent and its meaning, compact. It knows its self intimately and deeply, with no enemies or detractors. It is linked to the larger chain of life and serves a purpose deep in the bosom of existence. It is the true marvel of our nature. We need this cycle of activity to learn about our self, our life and our role in our existence. It is through opposites that our real nature is exposed and we can choose to accept, or not accept it.

In between the tide of expression and reflection is that thing we call love. Love is the true vibration eminating from our deepest core, and the very essence behind the process of expression and reflection. All things evolve towards this center in time.

Love does not exist in time. Like most of our virtues, love is eternal and belongs to eternity and our real natures. With time, love and all our true virtues become seldom seen or felt, because they are diminished by words, language and ideas. There is no true feeling of it, only an imitation of love spoken or stated. Not until man unites again his heart with the mind, will love be felt, spoken, and seen as true in time.

The tide of life exists so we can rediscover our true nature and express it eternally. This is our choice, whether to accept or reject the tide -- no God stands in judgement to tell us what we should do or what is right. It is our choice, as cells in the universal body, to decide whether we follow that which elevates us naturally or go with that which brings us harm. It is as simple as knowing how we feel and how our bodies react to what we are doing. We are never lost, only misguided and unconscious/unaware -- that is our only sin.

At times, the tide washes many surprises and precious gifts to our shore. It's important we dont resist. Enjoy your expression and also enjoy your reflection. In your moments of deepest despair are the seeds of your next exaltation.

Hugs & Toddlers

Remember what it was like to be a child? It was something very different from who we are today. It was to believe in love and magic, to believe in fairies, to believe in belief, to be so little that the elves could reach to whisper in our ear; it was about turning pumpkins into coaches, and mice to horses, and nothing into everything, because every child has a fairy godmother in its soul ... and a grandmother for a best friend. ~CJ

Hello Everyone,

Just to give you a little heads up ... I'm going to be out of town for the next week, leaving today. I'll be in Connecticut babysitting two of my grandsons, both preschoolers, while a daughter and her husband go away for a much-needed R&R to rediscover that they are more than a mommy and daddy.

I'll be in Grammy Heaven; however, being a little out of practice with busy toddlers, I'm relatively sure any down time I have while they're napping will be spent doing laundry, cooking, picking up toys, or (I had to admit it), taking a power nap of my own to recoup. There probably won't be much time for the internet and its writing pleasures, including posting here.

Stay with me.  I promise I'll be back online when I return on the 23rd. In the meantime, please think of me knee-deep in much-missed grammy hugs, bedtime stories, night-night kisses, and playing cars and Legos on the floor with two little boys that I love so dearly.

Namaste!
CJ

P.S. I would LOVE to see my email box overflowing with your own thoughts and experiences when I get home ...

Letting Go

My sincere thanks to Sue Batt for the following article which I'm taking the liberty of reprinting, giving her full credit, of course, and to Louise Hay for her poem embedded within the article, and giving her full credit for that, as well.

Interesting, how the poem turned out to be a 'synchronicity', something I've written a lot about here at "Whispers".
Namaste to both Sue and Louise!
CJ


The Art of Letting Go
by Sue Batt
Healing Touch for Health

How many of us are wise enough to stand in our own center and remain grounded when a "drama" unfolds around us, causing us to sway and our minds to work overtime?

We all have them, the "dramas." Whether we have families, or employment issues with co-workers, or financial problems, etc., there is always something that will rock our boats and trigger our reactions, our judgements, our blame, all of our "if onlys."

I've begun to notice that the saying, "Where there is a problem, there also lies within the solution", is really very true. And if we are awake enough to notice, the Universe has a very nice way of bringing you what you need at the perfect time. Yes, Divine timing knows a darn sight better than we ever could.

I had such a "drama" unfold in my own life this week, and in the midst of my own "pity party" a friend who had no idea of that, sent me the following poem. Divine timing! Universal solution! It helped to bring me back to a place of being centered and knowing that to "let go," it will all unfold as it needs to and that others have their own right to their own journey. I hope you enjoy it and that it brings you some comfort too.

Letting Go
by Louise Hay

To "let go" does not mean to stop caring, it means I can’t do it for someone else.

To "let go" is not to cut myself off, it’s the realization I can’t control another.

To "let go" is not to enable, but to allow learning from natural consequences.

To "let go" is to admit powerlessness, which means the outcome is not in my hands.

To "let go" is not to try to change or blame another, it is to make the most of myself.

To "let go" is not to care for, but to care about.

To "let go" is not to fix, but to be supportive.

To "let go" is not to judge, but to allow another to be a human being.

To "let go" is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes, but to allow others to affect their own destinies.

To "let go" is not to be protective, it is to permit another to face reality.

To "let go" is not to deny, but to accept.

To "let go" is not to nag, scold, or argue, but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.

To "let go" is not to adjust everything to my desires, but to take each day as it comes and cherish myself in it.

To "let go" is not to regret the past, but to grow and live for the future.

To "let go" is to fear less and love more.

Namaste
Sue

Angel in My Pocket: Eyes of a Child

The Innocence of a Child

"May you always see the world through the eyes of a child."
~CJ Heck





Keep that quote in mind ... I know I, for one, am always fascinated to hear what children believe and have to say about the workings of the universe and God.

Children want the world they live in to make sense, and they look at it and study it through such innocent eyes.

I remember I was having a conversation one day with one of my grandchildren, who was about five at the time. Somehow, the subject came up about what a conscience is and we were discussing it over lemonade.

When he asked what a conscience was, I explained in terms I thought he would understand. I told him it was like having a special someone whisper in your ear to tell you when something is a good idea, but also when something might not be such a good idea. Then I asked him what he thought a conscience was.

He thought about it for a few minutes, his face taking on all of the expressions of deep contemplation: the eyebrows squeezed together, his mouth puckered and skewed, first to one side of his face, then the other.

Then his expression changed to one of "AHA!" And he looked up at me with his eyebrows raised high and grinned playfully. "Grammy! I think you're talking about the angel I have in my pocket. That's just what she does!"

When I asked him to tell me more about his pocket angel, he gave me a look of total consternation, as though I should already know the answer.

Finally, with a huge sigh, he slowly explained what I should already know -- his angel always did exactly what I had described, but her whispers to him came from his pocket. He said she whispered to him about everything.

This was way before I started my own journey to awareness, and I hadn't thought about this conversation again, until this morning -- I think I mentioned before, I heard whispers, too, when I was a child, and I'm so glad he was hearing and heeding them already at age five.

I've been told that the universe has a sense of humor, and I'm quite sure our spirit guides had a good laugh over our little talk that day ... but, on the other hand, who's to say that he doesn't walk around with an angel in his pocket ...

Namaste.

Write When it's Time

The Spiritual Cycle of Expression
by Robert S. Cosmar

There is a time to write and a time to rest from it. A cycle of creative expression exists in all things and this has to be accepted. It's very rare that one doesn't have to stop once in awhile and realize the time of writing is over for the time being. It would be great to continually express our feelings and thoughts as they pour through us, but then when would we have time to learn and reflect on all we have written?

The dry times, those times when we feel we've hit a wall are merely approaches to the next layer of our preparation to know ourselves more deeply and honestly.

Writing is mostly self-revelation and self-confession. We write what we actualize through creative channels and we wait to write about our pain as we discover that we are not yet a complete person. Fear, limitations, frustration, and even depression continually confront us on our journey to wholeness. These limits to our free expression are the barriers to our true knowledge of self. They hide our true identity and hold us back. But they also reveal our excuses and reasons for failure to grow in awareness of ourselves and our reality.

Until we are whole, this cycle of 'create and wait' will always be there. Enjoy the flow of self as it passes through you and nourishes your heart. Then as the dry days come, as they eventually will, accept them and look at all the excuses, fears and blockages you have accepted to existence and yourself. The more you relax and witness them, the sooner they can pass and reveal the next gift that they are bringing you.

A very special thank you to you, Robert, for writing this article. Besides being my love, you are my best friend. I could read the thoughtfulness in each line and I know you wrote this because you've been watching me experience the 'dry days' first hand. I understand it now, and I'm certain this article will help others, as well.

Namaste and much love,
CJ

A "Little" Vision

Contributed by Hanah

Did you know that children have open hearts and minds to everything? Adults teach, and insist as to what is acceptable in society, so we shut the door to many experiences. My little grandson has taught me this valuable lesson.

At age three or so, and still in his car seat, he was naive and so accepting. Most of the time, I rode in the back seat with him, to occupy him and keep him content while he was in his seat. On one of these trips he began asking me questions about my dad. What did he look like? Where is he? Why doesn’t he come to our house? They seemed like logical questions for a little one to ask.

Soon after, he told me, “Your dad is always with us when we are in the truck.” I thought that was really profound for a three-year-old, assuming he meant in our hearts, since my dad had already passed away.

He continued by explaining that my dad was usually outside the vehicle's window, watching us, and riding along. He asked, “Can’t you see him?” Sadly, I could not. If he wasn’t riding outside by the side window, he was up by the trees, flying along with us. Other times he was sitting behind us, outside in the bed of the truck.

Each time I asked more questions, trying to be nonchalant about his visions. I inquired about his looks. He told me he didn’t have any hair, like Pappy J. I tried to explain suspenders to him. [That was a hilarious conversation that I would not be able to put into words!] So, he did have suspenders on. Ok, I could narrow that down. My GRANDPA is the one who always wore suspenders. Since my grandfather and I were close, I chose to believe it was grandpa he saw, and not my dad. But my grandson couldn’t know the difference, since he had never met either one of them.

As time went on, my grandson relayed his visions to his parents and others. He was told his visions were imaginary; things like that are not real; he had made them up; he had to stop doing that, etc. Sadly, his visions stopped and he told me he no longer saw my “dad” with us. That was a truly heart wrenching day for me.

I would give anything to see my grandfather traveling along with us. It was an intriguing and gratifying experience for me. Maybe heaven is all around us and so are our loved ones. I believe we just need to open our hearts and minds ...

Hanah


Thank you, once again, dear Hanah, for sharing your spiritual journey with us. Your experiences are always welcome. Namaste!
Hugs,
CJ

Finding My Way

Just when we think we have all the answers, we ultimately realize quite bluntly that we don't really know a damn thing.

When we come into this life, we aren't born with a 'how-to' book, you know, "The Complete Guide to the Care and Feeding (food and spiritual) of Catherine J. [Parrish Kempf O'Brien] Heck."

We have no hard and fast rules to refer to, other than those society has bestowed upon us. Even who we pray to is most often inherited from our parents, so we acquiesce and behave as good little souls. Even the laws we must follow have been set up by others who think for us. In actuality, the only real guidance as to the spiritual path we take on this earthly plane is our own personal one.

We have spiritual guidance to help us, to a point. We're given subtle whispers of intuition and precognition, synchronicities, just to let us know they're there and helping, but when push comes down to shove, most of it is really up to us. We choose the paths we take and the kind of life we want. The decisions are all ours.

Admittedly, it's been a while since I've had a lengthy discussion with Dinahh or Micah. Oh, I've had a few dreams and visions, most of them I've written about here, but after speaking to Robert and my friends, I've come to understand that this happens. Spiritual guidance is just that ... guidance. We aren't meant to rely on them for everything.

Dinahh and Micah have introduced me to a lot of valuable insights since they entered my life. They've shared so many wonderful things -- the natural tendency of us humans is to rely way too heavily upon our guidance, and be overly dependent. I've come to realize, they've left me to sort things out for awhile and make some decisions, based on what I've learned. They're expecting me to take a few awkward steps alone and when I can function by myself again without relying on them, they'll be back.

Please bear with me as I do this -- I will lean on other spiritually-minded people to help out with blogs to fill in during my absences. As always, I am extending the open invitation to any and all of you to submit your own experiences to share here. Hey, look at me ... I've written a blog entry without their help ...

Namaste.
Hugs,
CJ

The Art of Waiting

Waiting, Waiting, Waiting,
by Robert Cosmar

It is so frustrating to wait. We wait for our dreams to manifest; we wait for a direction to take; we wait for an inspiration to write. It doesn't seem fair to have to wait, and it brings up aspects of ourselves that are not always pretty. We like having control over our lives and having what we want, when we want it. Yet if we don't learn patience, the impatience can blossom into a demanding and stubborn state of mind.

Good things do happen when we are ready for them and, when it's time, they manifest effortlessly. No inner struggle is needed, it just happens, and we're grateful for it. However, the mind and ego are never satisfied. Selfishly oriented, they seek to fulfill themselves immediately and give little consideration to others, their needs, or the wisdom of timing. Actually, part of the problem is this idea of time. Our egos and minds are taught to obsess over time and dwell on it as if our lives were all about time. Time is how people conduct the business of living, but time is not living.

Surrender to what is -- this is necessary to overcome the threat of time. Acceptance of what is, is also necessary. A realization that everything is happening perfectly, just as it should be, is the cure for waiting -- and it's the only cure. The mind and time never give answers, only demands. They are never your best friends in life, but necessary tools in which to live and maneuver through our daily living. There's an old saying that people use: "You'll understand in time"; however, this is only true for those who become aware that everything happens for a reason and when it is supposed to. Nothing happens by chance.

Love is eternally patient because it knows it will get the desire of its heart eventually. It may take a thousand years, but it will achieve its desire. Time exists to give the illusion that somehow we have a right or destiny to control things and make them happen when we want. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Unless you are surrendered and aware, the opportunities and gifts hidden in delays or waiting are never seen. This puts the heart in danger of shutting down. In the end, it isn't a matter of getting what we want, when we want it, but rather what we have become and realized. Are we more aware? Or rather, are we more bitter, as a result of our limited ability to have things our way? Only the heart knows ... what does yours say to you right now?


Namaste, and thank you, Robert!
Love,
CJ

Choices

"All the adversity I've had in my life, all my troubles and obstacles, have strengthened me . . . You may not realize it when it happens, but sometimes, a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you." ~Walt Disney


Choices
by CJ Heck

Life's journey
is full
of crossroads,
those hard
lefts and
harder rights
we're asked
to choose from,
and each turn
has other
smaller pathways
and curves
going this way
or that.
Each way
holds its own
set of bumps
and potholes
and even an
occasional
hairpin turn.
Each is
a new chance
to learn
and grow
and gain
in awareness.
Never alone,
our guidance
whispers
by our side.
Dusting
myself off,
I've wondered
at times
how my life
might have
differed,
had I taken
a different route.
Lord knows,
I could have
used a few
more straight
stretches
along the way,
but at least
I did make
choices,
some good,
some not
so good,
but each one
perfect
for me
at the time,
creating
the being
that now is.
How sad
for those
lost souls
who merely
hitchhike
through life
never daring
to choose
at all.


Namaste.

Forced Hiatus

Wow, it's been a long and frustrating hiatus for me. In the blink of an eye, I went from near constant communication with my guidance, including whispers, visions, clairvoyance, clairaudience, and astral travel to ... well, zip. Nada. Nothing at all. It all happened so completely and totally, as to make me wonder (again) if it had all been a figment of my writer's overactive imagination.

I think my ability to communicate with Dinahh and Micah any time I wanted to is what I missed the most. My partner, Robert, and friend, Alexis, have assured me that the universe works that way, at times, and not to get sad or disillusioned. It naturally ebbs and flows. We are given the chance to grow and to think about all we've learned and become aware of.

I must be too new at all of this yet -- I'm still not sure WHAT all I've learned. Robert says this isn't how most people learn about the universe and become aware. I didn't have the luxury of studying, learning and asking questions over a lifetime. I was suddenly dunked in all at once with a "Wow! What the hell did THAT mean?" reaction to everything. The truth is, I've been clueless as to what to do with what I've learned and this hiatus has been very upsetting to me.

During the past couple of nights, I've been having some rather strange dreams or visions in Dinahh's absence and he didn't come to explain them when I asked for clarification. One consisted of my whole area of vision behind my closed eyelids filling up with a glaring, searing white light, so brilliant that it hurt my eyes. Slowly, it became concentrated in smaller areas and the light framed four beautiful angels wearing silken white robes and floating there, looking toward me. This lasted a few minutes and then it all went away.

The other vision was just as vivid. The color was a brilliant purple and filled my whole field of vision again. Then, the purple became more condensed, and settled into a purple cord, a thick ribbon that zigged and zagged in and around a myriad of sparkling diamonds. This vision really puzzled me. What could deep purple and shimmering diamonds be saying to me?

Robert assured me that both visions were actually announcing the coming of something, something really good. He asked if I was going to write in my blog about them. At the time, I said I wasn't. Geez, what would I say?

Then a little while ago, I was relaxing on the couch, trying to find my silence, and Dinahh spoke to me. He said I would soon be very busy. There were important things coming and I was to share my two visions which explained this. Then just before he left, he told me ... yep, you guessed it ... "Be patient, Catherine."

Namaste.

HANAH: Another Experience

A few weeks ago, (August 29, 2010) I introduced the work of a very special friend, Hanah. She was kind enough to share how she first met her Spirit Guide, Star. I am proud to again feature Hanah as she writes about another very moving experience.

CJ has helped me ever so much by explaining a few things to me as our friendship grows. This has helped me become less frightened and more aware of the whispers around me. I now try to embrace any experiences that I have and also try to recall old ones that I once dismissed. CJ explained that sometimes the ability to hear the whispers or open your mind and heart has been passed down through the generations, just like her own mother and now, her daughters. The wonderful thing about modern women, we are willing to talk about these things and pass our knowledge onto others without the stigma of being labeled 'loco'.

My Aunt lived down in the hills and hollers of West Virginia -- nothing around for miles and miles. In 1940, she married and they moved onto the farm with her in-laws. My Uncle was born in the house, as was his father. My Aunt and Uncle lived there their entire lives and raised their children there.

As a young adult visiting their home, I began to have 'feelings' at night. When it’s dark back in the woods, it is blackout dark. During the night, as soon as I would walk out of the bedroom and head for the bathroom, the hair on my arms and the back of my neck would stand up. I would actually walk with my hands over my eyes and try to maneuver through the house by looking at the floor. I would turn out the bathroom light and run back the same way, through the kitchen, living room, and hallway. Believe me, unless I couldn’t wait, I did not go out of the bedroom at night.

I didn’t mention this to anyone else. I could imagine how much I would get teased for that. It wasn’t until years later that I learned I was not the only one. It was kind of a relief, knowing I wasn’t crazy, but also a little frightening to know those feelings were validated.

I learned a little information at a time and it was never enough. I understand now that my Aunt was not willing to share her experiences for some of the same reasons that I didn’t. Believe it or not, not everyone wants to hear about the spirits. (smile) I wish we would have been able to share more of these experiences before she passed away. Her children did not have this gift and would become quite upset if this subject arose. So we could not be open with all the family near.

My Aunt explained how she had seen spirits for years in the house. She not only saw them, but she could hear the voices as well. Most of them were the same ones year after year. And, to my surprise, she saw the spirits in those same rooms that frightened me -- glad I didn’t open my eyes!

She mentioned a few things that happened to her when she was younger and still living at home -- lots of those things that go bump in the night. Looking back, I think she may have been trying to tell me that my grandmother also had this same gift. But, I never got to know my grandmother. She passed away when I was only a year old, so some of the good stories have never been told to the younger generation.

Having had some complications after surgery, I spent several weeks in the hospital. When I returned home, I would wake up hearing laughter. It would start out in whispers but would continue until I was completely awake. I talked with my Aunt about this. She told me it was their [spirits] way of getting my attention. I knew one of them was my grandfather who had passed a few years before. There was no way to deny his boisterous laugh. And I like to think he was laughing to let me know he was happy, because I was recovering.

I also believe my Aunt knew her spirit guide, or maybe it could have been a guardian angel. A bright light woke her on the first visit. She was awakened by a lovely lady, standing in her bedroom. The spirit told her, “Don’t be afraid, I did not come to harm you”. Another visit came when my Uncle was having some health problems. The same lovely vision came to her one night and told her, “He is going to be ok”. And he was!

I wonder if she and my aunt had other conversations, like CJ and Dinahh? I would love to know. CJ has just taught us not to let the moment pass.

Hanah


Thank you, Hanah. Your experiences are always well-written and so welcomed. Namaste, my friend!
CJ

THE BIRDIES

by Lloyd Glenn

On July 22nd, I was in route to Washington DC for a business trip. It was all very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead locker, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Rep immediately.

I thought nothing more about it until I was ready to leave the plane and at the doorway, I heard a man asking every male if he were Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was very wrong and my heart sank.

When I got off the plane, a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, "Mr.Glenn, there was an emergency at your home. I don't know what the emergency is, or who was involved, but I'll take you to a phone so you can call the hospital."

My heart was pounding, but the will to be calm took over. Woodenly, I followed the stranger to a phone where I dialed the number he gave me for Mission Hospital. My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son, Brian, had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door in my garage for several minutes and when my wife found him he was dead. CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital.

By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed he would live, but they didn't know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart. They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart. He had been severely crushed. After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness.

The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down. When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me for seeing my small son lying so still on the great big bed with tubes and monitors everywhere. He was also on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream. I was filled-in with the details and given a guarded prognosis. Brian was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart was OK -- two miracles in and of themselves. Only time would tell if his brain had received any damage.

Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt Brian would be all right and I hung onto her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I left on my business trip the day before.

Finally, at two o'clock that afternoon, Brian regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard ... he said, "Daddy hold me," and he reached for me with his little arms.

By the next day, doctors told us he would have no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. When we took Brian home, we felt such a renewed reverence for life and love that only comes to those who brush death so closely.

In the days that followed, there was a special spirit about our home. Our two older children were closer to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were tighter as a family. Life took on a less stressful pace. Perspective seemed to be more focused and balance was easier to gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed and our gratitude was profound.

But our story is not over ... almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian woke up from his afternoon nap and said, "Sit down Mommy. I have something to tell you." Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat with him on his bed, and he began his remarkable story.

"Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was heavy and it hurt really bad. I called you but you couldn't hear me. I started to cry, but that hurt too bad, and then the birdies came."

"The birdies?" my wife asked
.
"Yes," he answered. "The birdies made a whoosh sound and flew in the garage to take care of me."

"They did?"

"Yes," he said. "One of the birdies went to get you. She told you I got stuck under the door." A reverent feeling filled the room. The feeling was strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a three-year-old had no concept of death or spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came from beyond as 'birdies' because they had come from up in the air like birds that fly.

"What did the birdies look like?" she asked.

Brian answered, "They were beautiful and dressed in white, all white. Some had green and white, but most had on just white."

"Did they say anything?"

"Yes," he answered. "They told me the baby would be all right."

"The baby?" my wife asked confused.

Brian answered. "The baby laying on the garage floor." He went on, "You came out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told him to stay and not leave."

My wife nearly collapsed, for she had indeed knelt beside Brian's body and whispered, "Don't leave us, Brian, please stay if you can." As she listened to Brian telling her what she had said, she realized his spirit had left his body and it was looking down from above. "Then what happened?" she asked.

"We went on a trip," he said, "far, far away." He struggled with wanting to tell something very important to him, but finding the words was difficult for him. My wife told him it would be okay.

"We flew fast up in the air. They're so pretty Mommy, and there are lots and lots of birdies!" My wife was stunned. A sweet comforting spirit enveloped her soundly, but with an urgency she had never known. Brian went on to explain that the birdies told him he had to come back and tell everyone about the birdies. When they brought Brian back to the house, he saw the big fire truck and ambulance. He said a man was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man the baby would be okay. The story went on for an hour ...

Brian taught us that 'birdies' are always with us, but we don't see them because we look with our eyes. We don't hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always here with us -- we can only see them and hear them here (he put his hand over his heart). "They whisper things to help us do what is right because they love us so much." Brian continued, "I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We all have to live our plan and keep our promises. The birdies help us do that 'cause they love us so much."

In the weeks that followed, he often came to us and told all or parts of it, again and again. Always the story was the same. The details were never changed or out of order. A few times he added other bits of information he had remembered or clarified something he had already told us. It never ceased to amaze us how he could share these details and speak way beyond his ability when he talked about the birdies.

Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the birdies. Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this. Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled. Needless to say, we've never been the same since that day ... and I pray we never will be.


My thanks to Lloyd Glenn and his family for sharing their story.
Always,
CJ - Namaste!

Synchronicity for CJ

I know I talk a lot about synchronicity in this blog, but it's because it amazes me so much how it works. It's just one of those little gifts we all have, our little miracle from the universe to, I guess, let us know that our guidance is there and helping us whenever and wherever they can. The synchronicity that happened this morning was actually tied in with a couple of other ones, but this one is really special and I want to share it.

I should probably give you a little background information first. I have really bad vision. My driver's license says I'm 'legally blind without corrective lenses'. At 2-1/2 I was wearing bifocal glasses and, by the time I was a sophomore in high school, my glasses were as thick as pop bottles and I always felt terribly self-conscious.

When contacts came out that same year in my small town in Ohio, my parents took me to our local eye doctor to order them. Back then, they were only the hard contacts, and I worked diligently to learn to wear them. It was like a miracle -- I remember the first day I was allowed to wear them out of the doctor's office. It was raining. It was the first time I could actually see raindrops falling and I was stunned. Everything in my world came visually alive.

Okay, that said, I moved here to DuBois nearly two years ago from Punxsutawney, where I lived for one year. In the nearly three years I had lived in PA, I hadn't as yet chosen an eye doctor and it was way past time for an eye exam. Last January, I woke one morning with pink eye and did an immediate search in the yellow pages for an optomitrist. This was the first synchronicity. The first eye doctor I called had just gotten a cancellation and they fit me in within an hour.

After my appointment, with the Rx in hand for pink eye, I filled out the papers to have my records sent to their office from NH. Once the records were received, they would call and I could make an appointment for my first eye exam. Things got busy, as they usually do, and not hearing from their office, I pretty much forgot all about calling to see if the records got there, or making an appointment for an eye exam.

Last week while I was cleaning a lens to put it in one morning, it flipped off of my finger and I watched, horrified, as the drain hole swallowed my right lens ... I scrambled into action, frantically looking through drawers and cupboards for an old pair. I finally found one lone contact lens in a case from God only knows, how long ago. I cleaned it carefully and popped it in ... couldn't see clearly, but it was still better than without it. Then later, I found that with a pair of reading glasses on, I could at least see clearly enough to get around.

Waiting through the weekend was the hardest! When I called this morning, the office gal told me, yes, they had gotten my records from NH ... but no, with all of the eye exams for kids returning to school, they couldn't possibly fit me in until mid-September. Then she put me on hold to answer another line. When she came back, she said she had just had a cancellation! Could I come in tomorrow morning at 10:30?

Synchronicity ... a tiny miracle of maximum proportions.

Namaste!

Hanah: My Experience

Through writing this blog, I've met some wonderful friends -- some have been sharing their own personal experiences with me. I would like to introduce Hanah. She is on her own spiritual journey to awareness. This is how she met her spirit guide, Star:

My Experience
by Hanah

I don't ever remember hearing 'I love you' from Mom or Dad. Never. My Dad was an alcoholic and thought he was God's gift to all of us. He was a very outspoken, gun-totin' racist, who declared he was an atheist. He abused my mother and both of his children, both physically and emotionally. The day he struck my granddaughter was the last day I saw either one of them. They told everyone that I lied about it and I never heard from them again. They have both since passed away, and a few years after they passed, I began having very realistic dreams. I felt awake and knew I was awake -- I could hear things and see them.

When my husband leaves for work it is still dark. One early morning, I heard someone come up our wooden stairs. I woke up, expecting to see my husband home again -- maybe he forgot something -- but no one was there. Things progressed, although very slowly. Each time, I would hear the footsteps on the stairs and then sense the presence of someone walking around to the empty side of my bed. I would awaken again and each time, I was alone. Soon things progressed further and I would hear this being not only come into my room but feel him lie down beside me. Again I awoke and was alone.

As time went on, I had a harder time getting awake. It was almost like someone was holding me down, hugging me so tight I couldn't move. Again and again I struggled to wake myself up. Then I began having trouble sleeping at all. I would wake up in the middle of the night, afraid to go back to sleep. I started to call this being the 'ugly spirit'. I prayed every night for this to stop -- and for awhile it did.

When this being returned, it was deceptive to get it's way. I heard someone come up the steps and then come into my room. But now, it had appeared as my husband. He spoke and I felt it was him. He got into the bed and wrapped his arms around my waist. I felt very content and I felt safe.

When this happened, it marked the first time my spirit guide visited me. He told me his name was Star. He got my attention by saying. "Hanah, Hanah, look! Look at this!" I looked his way and he said, "This is an impostor!" He held out his hands toward the door and I could see into the kitchen. I could see my husband. He was not the one who was beside me.

I struggled and tugged and tried to cry out. He had a good hold on me. I finally got awake, I was out of breath and that was enough. I sat up in bed and yelled at him, "Go toward the light, go to God, or go to hell! Just go and leave me alone."

For a few nights, all was calm. I was sleeping better. Then I had one last dream. He was walking by the foot of my bed. When he got right in front of me, he stopped, glanced at me with no emotion on his face, just a cold stare. It was him, my Dad. He was only there for a few seconds and then he walked back into the darkness. He was gone.

I wonder if this was his way of letting me know he DID care. Was he trying to hug me to let me know? Or, could this be my subconscience, configuring a tale to heal the child in me that cannot deal with the harsh reality, or the conception, that I was not loveable?

Tell your kids you love them.
Hanah

Namaste, Hanah! Thank you for sharing your experience.
A hug to you,
CJ