Tending the Garden of Our Souls

 Last week I attended a program for survivors of trauma and abuse when I was gently guided in a meditation by a very gifted facilitator. She  invited me to connect to my four-year-old self. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to see what would happen. I saw this precious little girl standing beside the only rose bush that grew against the side of my childhood home.  She was picking off the Japanese beetles that were eating away the single rose. I could feel the prickly sticky legs of the green-headed marauder, and then the therapist said, “Hold her and see how she feels.”

The girl was anxious, wanting to get back to the rose bush and save it from being ravaged by the beetle that was just doing what a beetle does. Already the pattern of codependence was set up.  There I was at such a young age trying to stop the destruction that seemed an inevitable pattern of my family. As though the hunger of my fearful unhappy parents were just doing what they did to survive and the child was the rose. The analogy was daunting.

Tending to the garden of our soul is not something we think about often. But Spirit, in it’s divine wisdom, set up a situation for me to heal the foundation of my roots as well as protect how I bloom.

A few months ago I was getting ready to set course with a production company on a project when Spirit told me, “We want you to heal some of your history.” Hum, well, of course I wondered how that would happen, but our agendas or what we think about how such a thing can transpire is often contrary to what we WANT to have happen. I like to have things be loving and copacetic so that communication can be resolved in a harmonious way. But this time I could not make that happen because Spirit had a different idea.

What transpired was that I ran smack into a situation with people where fear was at the core of every one of our communications. This triggered me the same way it did with my parents and I literally began to do what I did as a child—vomit.

Spirit told me as my head was in the toilet, “You now can see the damage and feel the pattern of abuse; time to heal it. We want you to go to ‘The Meadows.’”

The Meadows on one hand is a place for the rehabilitation of many different addictions, but they also have a workshop that was suggested to me by my therapist friends and colleagues who knew about this place. They all said I must do the “Survivor” program. This weeklong workshop investigates the origins of adult dysfunctional behaviors by exploring early childhood trauma that has led to various addictions, depression, eating disorders and painful relationships. In this revolutionary educational and experiential process, participants learn to identify and address family-related issues that took place from birth to 17 years of age. The primary focus of the workshop is to learn to deal with the emotions that accompany any less-than-nurturing past event, and then to work on resolution of the consequential grief and anguish. 

The Meadows was an oasis of healing. And in the middle of the very powerful program I had a brief experience of connecting to my inner child who knew the beetles would be trouble, but also loved their sticky legs and the beauty of their metallic green heads and shiny copper wings. Their nature is just to survive. My four-year-old now knows the cycle of beetle and flower: in the destruction of each rose, the bush will bloom even more the next year. 

May we all be lucky enough to have the gift of Spirit to help us see the healing and beauty by tending to the garden of our souls.

The Meadows is located in Wickenberg AZ. http://www.themeadows.com/

Response Ability

“The first act of self-responsibility, and the base of all the others, is the act of taking responsibility for being conscious – that is, of bringing an appropriate awareness to our activities.”
-Nathaniel Branden, author of Taking Responsibility

All of us have blamed other people at some point in our lives for something. Unaware of the amount of pain we were in at the time, we chose to blame. 

 I have gone though the  gauntlet of  accepting, and not accepting my share of responsibility for what my life looks like, how I got here, and what I have done. There are always deeper places to probe. It becomes an on going process that is definitely... challenging.

 However I am feeling that there is a climate in our world of more and more complaining, blaming, bitching, worrying, finger pointing and shaming. 

No doubt we’ve been harmed physically or emotionally by the acts of others.Yes others are often to blame for egregious actions. There are laws to protect us from certain behaviors and hold people accountable. Sometimes our upbringing makes us more sensitive to the injustices of harmful behavior. 

One might still cringe when scolded, a trigger to a painful memory of a childhood disciplinary act by a parent. But if there are overwhelming incidents of historic trauma, then it is our duty to ourselves and others to seek out the help of professionals to heal our pain. Because if we don't we will take it out on others.

External circumstances might have put you at a disadvantage, but we have a choice to do something about this.

 It’s called, taking responsibility. 

People make excuses for their behavior instead of looking at their own thoughts and actions. When you fail to accept  responsibility for your actions there are events that follow over time. An unpleasant pattern in your family is because there are years and years of brushing the uncomfortable under the rug, pretending things don't happen, acting like everything is fine-- obviously not taking  responsibility for actions. 

 Excuses are insidious because they become a self-fulfilling prophecy, an excuse we make true. Proving no one understands us, listens to, respects, or loves us. If you blame others, then you are the victim,  –You stay the wounded child, the eternal victim. Therefore, the prophecy is  fulfilled.

Another consequence to not taking responsibly is an exaggerated sense of self that makes it difficult to get along with others.  Because your perception of your importance is exaggerated, your expectation of others is unrealistic and you become impatient, intolerant, and demanding. You will even go out of your way to pull conflict into your life to fuel the drama of the upset. Then the drama becomes so upsetting and distracting which is  another way to deflect  responsibility. 

People who keep making excuses for their behavior are trying to deflect their inadequacies and avoid reality. They don’t see that they are losing the respect and trust of their friends, family, and colleagues. They use their pain and all their good intentions as a way to mask the truth and then ultimately, they only surround themselves with people who support their ideas and put up with their excuses. 

We are afraid of not being enough and when we don't step up to take responsibility we prove we aren't enough. Then  our pain becomes our lives, then we can keep blaming others. Yes, we have all done this.

 “ But, I love you! I am doing everything for you, I work my ass off to help you, I put up with the fact you hurt me 20 years ago, that you were mean to me, that you betrayed me, that you left me. This is your fault! This has nothing to do with me! My pain is because of what you said what you did, to ME!"  

The need for acknowledgement and at the same time using the blame game is a wounded child screaming for help.

It would be nice to be in dialogue with others to work things out. But people who can’t take responsibility for their own behavior are not going to be looking to talk to you, They will avoid you like the plague.  They will hide behind others, money, pain, work, or history in order to feel superior and right in being victimized.

The only way out of this vicious cycle is to be aware of your thoughts and actions and then take responsibility for what you are doing, what you have done, what you've said and not said, accept how your behavior has contributed to the situation and... admit it, come clean and tell the truth. OYE!

The only way to change this is, you must WANT it to change. We must find the ability and the courage to respond differently.

It is amazing when we fess up to our own bad behavior what can happen. If people are willing to change, they will be willing to forgive.  Then fear  can morph, love starts to flow and harmony can be resorted. But it takes work.

Don’t wait for others to change. You face the mirror, you go for help, you seek reflection from people who will help you unwind the craziness. Question your thoughts your actions. Don’t stay stuck in needing to prove you are right, look a certain way, or stay in control.

Unless you seek the help of people who know how to really help you take responsibility, you are just running in circles, feeling exhausted, upset, in pain, frustrated, disappointed and unhappy. What if we all were to do this? What would our world look like?

We all make mistakes. But there is freedom in the truth, confidence in taking action, well being and love, in doing what's right.

In the Blades

This is what I think 2012 is all about. 

Time has sped up. Situations we thought were trivial are now more important than ever. Bodies feel irritated, out of alignment and unsettled. Minds are being yanked around by the emotions of our own lives and the media.

In order to keep up we must shift, change our vibration. The body tells us what is wrong with painful reminders. What must we change to get out of pain? Where do we start and how do we do that?

Responsibility….taking responsibility for what we think, say and do. Blaming someone else can only go so far. What if you chose it to learn? When do you decide that you have learned enough to move on?

We can only change what we acknowledge.

 Do we really want awareness? It’s difficult, it feels like we are going to die, our heart and minds ripped apart with fear when we face our past, and clean up what we can, and embrace the uncertain future.
 We can then transform to something that is more ...fluid.

Consciousness comes with a price. It lives in the bottom of a blender in the blades.

Only those who want to be part of the shift, the awareness, the change, can do something about this.

I watch as people who are vibrant, curious, funny and loving cannot come to terms with their life choices. They hold themselves in the most critical ways, not understanding that they can make different choices. Choices for themselves that very well may have a profound effect on others. But until they do come to the realization, drop the shame and dig in, they will not shift their pain.

Life is filled with all sorts of pain, but there is joy when we are able to pour out of that blender!

Peanut Shells and Novocain

When a deceased loved one wants to communicate, and they are able to break the veil of death to come back and share messages, it is simply one of the most heart warming yet shocking experiences.

It is my job to help facilitate this. Losing someone we love can be the most painful yet transformational experiences of our lives.

Most of the sessions that I do as medium are NOT set up by me, they are facilitated most often by the dead themselves.

When I was back in my hometown and staying at the Bedford Springs Resort, I ran into a group of stunning, fashionably attractive women all walking out to the Tavern for lunch.  I did a double take and recognized a childhood acquaintance I’d not seen in 35 years. Rossanne and I were suprised to see each other.  ‘Please join us” she said. I was simply delighted to be part of their birthday celebration over salad and wine for their friend Beth.

We had a fast meet and greet, and then I tried to explain what I do, the birthday girl said, “ you mean you are a fortune teller?”

 “No.” I said.

 "You mean you read people's minds?”

 “Nope.”

” You mean you can win the lottery ?”

 I laughed. This was way too funny, I usually can explain my work, but these questions just reminded me that not a lot of people will understand. Then I heard the way I hear things, “ Simply tell them you can hear, see and feel dead people, you can see what they want their loved ones to know, you can help facilitate this love that continues”…then they all gasped  and tried  to explain about Marcia who was a little late. Marcia had lost her husband David, to Cancer.  I immediately thought, OK Spirit you have set this up.

Marcia was delightful and beautiful.  We shared a good laugh  about Marcia’s hunting passion, as she whipped out her phone to share some bucolic photos, that included fur and antlers. I left that lunch knowing I might talk to her another time.

We started is FB friends and then one night I felt I had to call her.

 She was  sad, like only those who have lost a spouse can be. A sadness that leaves only when time and experience can find a home for it.

I did not call her to give her information, I did not call her to make her a client, I called because I had to.

I was overcome with emotion, not my emotion, an upset for Marcia that I could not have because I did not know her. It was someone else's emotion.

I tried to fight what was happening but said, “If you want me to explain what I am feeling I will, but I think I have your husband here, do you want to hear this?” she said, "yes".

I am being told that you and your husband buried your dog together -----------

You eat peanuts in the car and throw the shell on the floor. Your  husband is laughing about this,

You have a saying that is important that he made for you on something by the door, ----

You want a pair of boots that you have agonized about whether to get or not---

He loves your blue berry pancakes---

He talks about the mole on your back---

The Novocain strength at work is not right ---

Sell the boat---

And now he shows me is washing his hands in an oval pedestal sink and he says “ that is my handy work”---

Other more intimate details the only they can share, that I will not be able to remember, but it was for them, and Marcia agreed I could share some of this with you.

Love shows up in all different forms.

All of these messages were deeply meaningful and true for her, her husband and now perhaps all of us.

He was a joy, and wouldn’t stop, he kept talking, showing, and loving all at the same time….we were both stunned and crying at the same time. David had released his shell and was still loving her. David had made this all happen, and for a brief moment we were both transported to a place of love, hope and life.

A New Chapter

I share new life with you!

The Blessing of Ben Breedlove

There is no surprise that his name was Ben Breedlove.


I sit here in front of this imac, with tears pouring down my face, because I am consumed by the strength and the love of Spirit who gave the world a boy named Ben who was intuitive enough to share us his life and death, a boy so beautiful, so loved by his family and born to a  family called the BREEDLOVE’S for goodness sake!

I was just  introduced to him like many of you, through the news. How he had had a serious heart condition all his life, but over the last week his story and life have been the subject of hope and amazement as he recorded on YouTube his...well, his own eulogy days before he actually passed.

I am moved by the treasures of life but often numbed by my own stupid thoughts of self loathing. Disappointment that things don’t always smell like roses, that my love life has not worked out the way I fantasized, or that no matter what creams I buy or how much I exercise, I still don’t look like Cindy Crawford. The pitiful sad wounded parts of me that sometimes get activated and put me on a pity-party spiral. But today Ben changed that for me, I hope forever.

Most of you know that death is part of my job. You know through the many stories I have shared that the dead give me so many details for their loved ones so many feelings, memories and thoughts that  in my job I am graced to be able to do this for others.

You also know that there is more than skepticism about this subject. The life after death question, not to mention the judgment (understandably so) of those of  who might be accused of being ambulance chasers, taking advantage of grief and charging money to remove the curse of the grief that consumes us.

But Ben overcame all of that for me today.  

No, I am not saying that Ben came to me, as the dead often do, and wants me to track down his family to give them messages... no today BEN and HIS FAMILY have messages for me, for us and we can either feel them or not.

  I do find it very interesting that when I wanted and needed sleep, I was wakened with a blast of cold that irritated me so much that no matter how I moved the covers I could not get myself comfortable. So I  bitched, told that cat I didn’t want to get up, pulled myself out and in my mid-morning-stupor, turned to the web stories of CNN …. Doomed teen Ben Breedlove shares life after death experiences on YouTube. 

I have to do my job, I have to listen, I have to be ready and able to either give messages from loved ones, or I am blessed with having prophetic information that means nothing to me, but does or will to someone else.


We will all some day feel doomed by death, but not Ben. Ben and those he touched

 are blessed.

Thank you Ben and your loving family and Spirit, who share you with the world.


 There are so many links to this story.... just find him. Or he will find you!


http://www.kxan.com/dpp/news/national/south/worldwide-attention-on-ben-breed


http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20557271,00.html

I Took My Time to Listen

I’ d had a headache for about two hours and thought, I’ll go out, get some air and a few things at the grocery store.

 I picked up some little juicy  Clementine’s, broccoli, a hunk of dark chocolate and started to walk home when I heard the way I hear things,  “ sit and have some soup.”

Ok, well sure, so I sat down outside at my little Chinese-take-out ordered a small wonton soup, downed it and thought... hum that was weird.

 But when I listen and I am called— I do.

I started to walk home and saw my friend Lina who works at my local Starbucks. We have a familiar morning relationship that centers around one shot of peppermint and Mocha for my holiday latte.

“Hey how are you?” She buoyantly asked.

“Well Lina,  I’m really sad that our Blockbuster is going out of business… I need a hug.”  We laughed, but she hugged me anyway and then it just popped in my head to ask about her girlfriend, Kit.

“ Well actually she is right over here”…She led me to the back corner of Starbucks where Kit was hunkerd down at her computer. We all three  commiserated on  how we like and dont like ordering videos on line… when Lina said, “ today is the anniversary of Kit’s mothers death.”

My headache flared. So for the next 40 minutes we talked to Jo Ann, Kit's mom. She had died from a brain aneurism. Lots of funny wonderful, interesting details that had Kits eyes wet, red and joyous that her mom knew so much about her, like she had been looking over her shoulder in preparation for our meeting. My headache stopped when Jo Ann said to her daughter, “ Be joyous...Oh, and fix your bike.”

They both hugged me and asked,” aren’t you tired?”

“ Not in the least, I’m just glad I took my time to listen.” I said.

This is how I want my holiday to be, filled with Spirit and the messages that they have for others …and me.
And that's the way it was on December 2^nd 2011.

MSU

 I recently poked my head into a College reunion. It was held at an esteemed University that all people choose to go to at some point in their lives.

I'm sure that every political candidate, (ok, with the exception of maybe one) have gone to this school, gotten their Masters and maybe even a Doctorate or two. This is not a place of discrimination. This is where you can find smart, well educated, attractive, or not so educated, poor and not so attractive. Some of the most famous people in the world have spent years there, but they don’t list it on their resume.  

 Its the kind of place you can attend any time for a refresher course but its not really helpful if you go back.

I came from a family that donated their life and energy to this University. Some of the classes were honorary for  me, I didn't even have to attend. I just got  the credit because of my family's history. 

No tuition is really free. Some classes we have taken, we conveniently have forgotten; then the bill comes, with interest. I am sure that we have all learned a great deal when going to these classes, but can occasionally be remiss in remembering.

It’s the kind of place that some people take such pride in, until they have to admit they have attended.

This well appointed, human resourced destination of education really becomes embarrassing if someone asks what the letters MSU mean.

So I encourage you to do what I have just done, count up the credits that you forgot you had, or even remember how much time you have spent or are spending at the esteemed institution of :

Making Shit Up University, where all skills  are devoted on a daily weekly or life time basis in being inauthentic in all forms of  relationships, telling fabrications to re-write history in how we want to be perceived, or how we want others to perceive us. The criteria, being unable to be with the truth.

May we all choose more wisely when education presents its self and remember,
the truth shall set you Free...in my case Frees.

What I Have Learned all these Years

From the beginning.

Getting here wasn't easy.
The sky is blue and sun warm.
I like to laugh.
Big people make decisions for my life.. not sure I like that.
I like things that crunch.
Kitties don't like to swim.
Snow,wind, rain, thunder and Santa are blessings from the sky.
There are things called germs that make me sick.
Other people's homes seem more comfortable.
I want to be one of those women who sell soap on TV.
I love the woods, school, recess.
I run faster than the boys.
I like to sing.
Giving to others makes them happy, I like that.
There is magic that happens when leaves change color.
Music stirs my feet, makes me want to jump, twirl and sing.
Everyone has pain.
I like boys.
I can't wait till I am grown.
Oooh I make mistakes, I say mean things. I am frightened and sad.
I don't have many friends.
Home is a way-station for unhappy people.
I have much anxiety.
I must get away.
There is so much beauty, heartache, suffering in the world.
There is a man named Jesus who people rely on.
There is a voice that tells me things, that guides me.
Prayers are answered.
Sex is not what my mother told me.
Family doesn't mean they like or love you.
A big beautiful home does not mean happiness.
I'm in trouble.
I like telling stories, I don't want to lie so I will do it on Stage.
Everybody has problems.
It takes hard work to  find the boogieman who lurks in the shadows.
It takes hard work to find the truth.
I must tell the truth.
I want to be loved. I might not know how to love.
I know how to care for others, maybe too well.
There is nothing better than thundering up a hill on my horse.
I can take care of myself.
People are mostly loving, mostly.
There is a voice inside that tells me things, guides me. My prayers are answered.
I am a woman who sells soap on TV.
When someone says they love you, it means something different.
It means everything, it means nothing.
Loyalty was a virtue, now it seems like a convenience.
Americans are spoiled.
Americans are blessed.
The dead know what we are doing.
Marriage does not always mean forever.
There are unseen forces that care for us.
Difficult things must be learned.
Deep emotional wounds must be processed or pain is not understood.
The dead talk back.
We can hear them.
I am capable of many things.
Everyone needs help.
Organized religion keeps people feeling special.
History shows us what "special" means in the name of God.
God needs a different PR agent.
There is a voice  that guides me, tells me things for others.
Prayers are answered.
Everyone is intuitive.
People are amazing.
Life is incredible.
There are massive numbers of UFOs surrounding our planet.
There are unidentified structures built on both sides of the moon.
We are blinded until it is time to see.
Being a parent is a mind blowing job.
Not having children is a lesson my soul needed.
Some days that makes me sad.
I don't sell soap on TV any more.
Love comes in all forms.
Judgment is ego. Ego is fear.
We are children practicing to be adults.
God is a personal guidance system.
The process of forgiveness is life.
I know nothing.
I would not trade one moment of all the pain and suffering.
I could not forget the beauty of light upon the earth,
or the sweetness of the leaving.
I wake to remember.
I live to love.
My life is extraordinary.
There is a voice that tells me things for others.
Prayers are answered.
Pain is exquisite when it has merit.
I feel blessed.
I love you.

"It's So Ridiculous Now That I'm Dead"

 Mandy sat on my office sofa. I actually thought she might be one of the youngest clients I ever had. Looking no older than 14, her rail thin body was not yet defined by any thought of adult hood. She giggled when I asked her how old she was. I resisted looking shocked when she said, “I’m 22.”

I never know how these sessions start, I don’t have people yelling from beyond the grave HEY THIS IS BILL WHY CANT YOU HEAR ME!?

 Things are reveled in the frequency and way that Spirit has set up. Today her deceased  father came in saying. “I was irritating.”  Mandy agreed.

Her father  revealed to me a bedroom. I drew on my standard yellow pad of paper a  door from the hall entering a small space. Her father impressed in my mind these images. He showed me that he was standing in the bedroom and Mandy’s mother was in the doorway, yelling at him.

Her father then revealed a frame, a huge frame of wood that he had built. At first I thought it was like an over sized frame for a painting, or he was being creative with making a huge frame for the doorway.  Mandy was nodding her head.

Mandy your father is telling me, “ She stood there and just yelled at me, NOW can you see how  ridiculous this was, cause now I am DEAD!”  He  was serious but the irony of the situation was apparently part of his personality. Mandy welled with tears and I asked. "Does this mean something to you?"

She said,“You have drawn my brothers bedroom. My father was building a frame for a murphy bed, my mother was mad at him, they argued, he got sick and died before he finished it.”

Her father was sad, sad that time here on earth was wasted, arguing.

" It's so ridiculous now that I'm dead."

The Bliss of Connection

When Richard Dreyfus’s character had a Close Encounter, his life as he knew it was over.  He was driven to find meaning in what seemed incomprehensible. He spent his waking hours searching for the truth, building something that could satisfy some strange  longing, a need to connect to something unidentified.

He trashed his job, yard, home, kitchen, and family all to make sense of his need. In that moment  (captured by this photo) he recognizes the monstrosity he manifested in the middle of his kitchen existed. That his psychic impressions and fantasies were real. His madness had meaning. His insanity was sane and he could finally lean into the arms of his own truth.

He left what he knew and climbed a mountain to walk hand in hand with those who supported his vision. He found  home with the gentle strangers of an Unidentified Flying Object.

This last weekend at the IV Dreamland festival sponsored by Unknowncountry.com,

I realized that I too had been living my whole life for that connection, searching, yearning and finally present to the love that only being with those on a same journey can provide. 

All of us there, the attendees and presenters knew on some deep level that this was the place we had to be.  These were the people we had to know and this, is what we had to do. Yes there are challenges to be a part of something that on some level has elements of controversy and skepticism, but our attention to shed light on the truth seems more important. This could no more be stopped than banning  stars from beaming light. However in our quest there is pain. It is in facing that pain for our truth that we may find bliss. 

May we all find the courage to do whatever we must for the bliss of the connection.

Gifts for My Soul

The best gifts are the ones that my soul needs, but I don’t think to ask for.

These are the ones that teach me the most about life and beauty.

They surprise me.

I have a visitor that comes with 5 friends.

 He sings to let them know there are fat sunflower seeds hung in the bamboo.

He sings because he can,

because he must

 and....

 because he loves to.

It is his gift of song that makes my day.

The DNA of Apples

Today is the seven year anniversary of my mother’s death. I looked through a box of photos and letters and was struck in a new way at how much I resemble her, and how I'm not as frightened about that as I once was. This photo was taken at a place where she felt most in her element--in her home state of North Carolina on the beach at Nags Head. Thanks Mom, for the gams and girl parts.

Yes, there are many feelings that come up at this time, but no Hallmark sentiments here.

I am deeply grateful. If I had not had her as my mother I would not be the person I am today, have had the extraordinary experiences I've lived and survived, nor would I be able to assist others in their growth and transformation.

The old adage the apple does not fall far from the tree, reminds me that I am my mother's daughter, but instead of spiraling into despair, or having no other option than killing myself, I learned to make apple sauce, apple pie, apple martinis, apple butter and …vinegar. I'm in a dance with the DNA of apples.

As a medium I talk to dead folks. It's my experience that the dead know how we feel. They hear us, see us and sometimes observe what we're doing. In death they know the truth about what they did here on earth and often want to make restitution, or apologize. Their living victims are often upset about this, but when I am able to hear, see, or feel the details of some of these traumatic events and communicate on behalf of the perpetrator to the victim, the person who has been hurt has a choice to accept the apology or not.

For seven years I've told my mother that I was not interested in anything she had to say from the other side. I have felt her trying to impart information, not-so-helpful hints, and marriage advice (you can't imagine how funny that is). When she has shown up over these years it has always been in the kitchen--her domain. I've said, "No thanks. Not interested." But last night, I finally decided it was time to prayerfully invite my mother to communicate. I was ready to know if she "gets" the full impact of her actions. Does she understand the damage she caused, does she see her role in my life and what I've made of it, and can she see the healing that facing our wounds makes possible?  So last night I said, "I would be open to a sign from you, that we in fact we're making progress in each others' healing."

The first thing this morning I got a call from a business acquaintance, Kay, who called to tell me her mother died yesterday. She and I had lunch a few weeks ago to discuss my upcoming speach at a charity event. But as I told Kay before we even met for lunch, “We're getting together for something even more important.” I felt it was all about her mother, and more significantly Kay’s deep shame about how she really feels about her mother; the good the bad and the ugly.

Kay had a difficult time with her mother. She can tell me everything because I have no judgment about her hatred, upset, fear, sadness, frustration, longing, anger, love, and confusion about her mother--because I too have felt it all. These are feelings many women find hard to disclose because our shame is too overwhelming. No matter what our mothers' terrible actions were, our horrible guilt about our true feelings has reeked havoc in our lives. This denial made us whirling dervishes of caretaking, co-dependance, fixing, controlling, and cheer leading, and we became emotionally dishonest women.

I know the deep resentment and the pain so vile that I not only literally vomited it for years, but when internalized, I vomited my pain onto others. But real feelings are the truth, and that is gold--the treasure that comes from healing.

My life has been a navigation of all those feelings,  I am still doing the work to understand, feel and forgive. By facing the issues with her mother, Kay has just started an incredible journey that in time will transform her life and the lives of many others.

Our jails are filled with girls and boys who have been victimized by the wounding that their mothers and fathers inflicted on them. These children made poor choices out of being so hurt, and in turn, became perpetrators. They serve to remind us that we the wounded  need to find help to rehabilitate our bodies, minds and spirits.

The ripples of my mother’s toxicity still linger, however my mother's care givers have different stories to tell about the end of her life. She loved doctors, nurses, hospitals and being taken care of by strangers. This was something she deeply needed--to be cared for, but not by those closest to her. We who knew her the best and worked to love her were always at risk.

The carnage my mother caused because of her personality disorder and her choices pretty much ended our few family connections.

My older sister Deborah is an award-winning writer and poet. Her daughter is also an amazing writer, as well as an investigative reporter and healthcare and political advocate. I know these things not because we talk, but because I read about them in their publications. My sister and I write in separate voices to tell others what we want them to hear, see, or feel about our experiences.

The cognitive dissonance of the stories we all craft to keep our pain in place make our experience palpable for the wounded child inside us. But the child is screaming to grow up and only by going inside the pain can we get through it. Our souls crave this kind of truth even though the truth threatens "the story." The apple tree has been shaken and the fruit of the tree of knowledge is there for us to see.

My mother, now in Spirit, has the opportunity to see and feel differently. The work I have done on myself and continue to facilitate for others is unraveling the DNA of apples.

This is a photo of my mother Reinette Fries ( taken by my father Harold J. Fries) as she posed on a shipwreck in Nags Head N.C.  This was aprox 3 years before I was born.

Just For the Joy

I decided after training for 5 years in Tae Kwan Do getting my red belt and having a few injuries….I needed a different expression for my body.


My friend Liddee invited me to an evening of dance at the studio where she’d been attending class.

I had tossed out my dance shoes years before, so I make a trip to my local dance store for the suede bottom shoes and crossed my fingers that I might be able to keep up. Funny thing, I had danced for years, in shows, musicals, reviews, because I HAD to, taking class was just to keep myself limber and prepare for another role. This time there would be no show,or job...it would be just for the joy.

Patrick a beautiful African American instructor grabbed me and said," You must take the tango lead from the man." OYE…I had only done choreographed pieces, I never learned to let any man lead anything.

I surrendered, however after about 20 minutes, my brain clicked back on and Patrick said, “NO your brain is back and you don’t move as well.” Good information.

So I  shuffled  off to another instructor Santiago, a good 8 inches shorter, he'd make me dance salsa! He spun me around pushed me up and down and made this 52 year old look like Charo, well sort of.

I was sweaty and sore so I wrapped up my dancing night up in a down coat waiting for the culmination of the evening, a wonderful belly dancing demonstration performance by a young student who had just gotten her masters in psyc from UCLA.

She was lovely and happy, undulating to the beat of Middle Eastern drums, shaking the metal hip trusses in total confidence and mastery. Her beautiful hair whipping, veils waving and her face was beaming. Of course she was 25 and didn’t have much of a belly to dance but I was entranced.Good way to get new business.

So I survived my first two hour belly dancing class.After a long soak in Epsom salts, eating Advil and a ton of water, I've found muscles on hips bones, arms and toes I never knew I had. We were a group of women between 24 and 67 that came to shake, sweat and bond with each other, all faiths and life styles honored and supported. I thoroughly enjoyed the Iranian belly dancing task master who demands perfection from my pecs ...she gets to yell ,she's so good I don’t mind.

I think I'll try swing and might learn to be led, especially if its just for the joy!

Heed the Whispers?

This new Years Eve I was typing the note, “I am always here for you.” I wondered if that was an invitation, or was I being presumptuous that she might need me? Was I just doing my job as a psychic medium, just being a caring person, or was I acting out  the care taking  pattern  of being an alcoholic’s daughter? These are boundary  issues I have had to learn.

I cannot assume that I am needed out side the professional services I offer. BIG LESSON, I do not accost people on the street and give them psychic information. I do not sit beside a man on the air plane and whisper unsolicited information. You would not expect a dentist to lean over and say, “Your breath stinks, let me tell you what that halitosis is about.” I find  information unsolicited, but still given, a boundary issue.

It's become a year of understanding more of these boundaries.

People come to me because I can help them see their lives differently, feel what they cannot feel or sense themselves because they are focused elsewhere. What I have to offer as a psychic medium, are sometimes important directives, about taking one road or another, fixing car parts, health issues and relationship issues. I cannot be attached to whether someone listens or not. I care, but I cannot have any agenda.I must just give the information, whether it is heard and acted upon is not my business.

I had one client call me this year from her hospital bed, saying, “ok I know you are thinking I told you so.” By the time she ended up in the hospital I had forgotten that there was a message saying , if you do not handle this, you will be in the hospital in a month. I cannot remember every thing I tell a client but I knew at the time it was important.

What is our responsibility in hearing information that can help another?

A client who did not take my suggestion a few months ago about the damage that could come to her home if she did not take steps to protect from the water, is now flooded. My celebrity clients who had a clothing store asked me what they should do about their business. I told them that they would let it go, because I saw them losing a great deal of money; they were robbed more than once. An old friend who has had numerous messages given to him not just by me but by his own guidance is faced with devastating health issues. The point is we as adults have choice.

I too have had to learn this in my own life. I’ve been given messages I did not want to heed, the result has changed my life forever. I am not saying that not needing the messages means there is punishment; on the contrary, I feel there are no mistakes. Mistakes happen to show us something even more important.
If we were warned, then it is clear there is a consciousness  inside of us that cares about us and it can be accessed in time to help us. However  if we are given guidance, warned over and over again, and we still choose not to listen, then there is something wrong in the love we have for ourselves.

I have learned more about boundaries and the care I must have for myself. It is true that I am always here if she needs me, but I wait for her to ask and if she does ask for help I will do my best, to be clear compassionate. I have learned that in my personal world, to heed the whispers of the message, and let the rest go.

Gifts From the Spirit

This vintage Christmas card is a beautiful representation of how I believe gifts come.

A heavenly Spirit comes to our home.

She knows what home to visit because she has been with us forever. She was prepared for the journey, coat and satchel, she has made this trip many times.

 Her unconditional loving companion,willing carries the gifts.
It is her delight to bring what is needed, what is important...what will bring joy.

The heavenly Spirit watches, waiting for the right moment.

The moment when we are ready to receive.

I just found something she gave me 10 years ago, tucked inside a folder, a note. Her words could not have come at a better time to remind me that she has always made the trip to bring me what I need, she has always been there.

 She knows what is best for me, despite what I think I want or need, she knows what is better.

She comes all year, but its in the cold when she gets to wear her coat to warm her wings, that she feels I am most receptive.

To Monroe and Beyond : part 2 The Institute

Part 2
I learned about the Monroe Institute from Lieutenant Lyn Buchannan when I trained as a remote viewer back in 1996. It became the holy grail of destinations for me, but every year that I filled out the application, something else would distract me, until last year when I had a phone client from Australia.

Irene wanted to connect with a deceased loved one.We not only talked to her dead husband but her father, who told me what she was wearing on her wrist, ( yes I was in La and she was in Australia) it was starting out as an extraordinary session. Her relatives were very clear and then I was slapped with an image of a man with a mustache. At first he looked like my dad, and then I heard “ Bob Monroe”, So I asked Irene, “Is there any reason Bob Monroe would want to talk to you?” Irene responded, “oh yes I am a trainer for the Monroe Institute Gateways and I am heading up the Australia branch". Irene has been on me ever since to take the introductory Gateway course, now I was itchin’ to go.

The wayshower Bob Monroe

I had a desire to go back home to Pennsylvania, a hankering to research a murder back there, and why not go to Monroe and scratch that persistent itch. I had my intuitive itinerary all set up, after meeting with the Andreason’s I was off to Monroe.

Set in the blue ridge mountains of Virginia, it was the prefect spot for a retreat about consciousness. Eighteen of us from all over the world convened to explore what Bob Monroe has written about in his books, Journeys Out of the Body, Far Journeys, and Ultimate Journey. We woke at daylight, had the choice of having a private morning to ourselves, stimulating yoga class, or hiking around the area. Breakfast with every conceivable need supplied, we started our day getting to know each other. We were a mixed bag of hearts, minds, and souls between 28 and 80 years old.

We'd meet in the pine paneled Nancy Penn Center with facilitators Penny, Bob and Robert. These three were the perfect combination of smarts, experience humor and willingness. They outlined what assignment we were to do and then off to our CHEC Controlled Holistic Environmental Chamber we’d go. The CHEC unit was our personal bed in a wall, where we students put on  head phones, and listen to the Hemispherical Synchronisation (Hemi-Sync) method to affect different altered states of consciousness. We could make it as dark as we wanted with heavy black out curtains. I like comfort, and it was there in every sense of the word within our persona CHEC units. Each exercise began with the same preparatory phase that we are more than our physical bodies and with that said, all of us had unique experiences that we shared after every exercise.

Some of us flew, some had healings, met deceased loved ones, talked to enlightened beings, were given messages, instructions about work, family, some of us had or fears challenged, patterns adjusted, were taken to other planets, had past life regressions, helped souls who were stuck move on, got in touch with loss, love and life in various forms. We changed and hopefully can share this all over the world with you.

Some of my personal experiences along with my  interview with the executive director of TMI, Paul Radamaker will be posted 11/13/10
http://www.unknowncountry.com/

The Monroe Institute web site MonroeInstitute.org.

Irene's Australian TMI web site http://www.meditationretreatsaustralia.com.au/


With a note about the hemi-sync work, there are some people promoting binaural beat methodology in some of their meditations. I feel it is imperative to be careful. Monroe works with programs that have research behind it, so that as student of this brain stimulation you are given proper guidance about this.

Trainers Robert, Penny and Bob, with me in the orange.

To Monroe and Beyond: part 1 The Andreason's

I had a dream to go The Monroe Institute for 15 years. As soon as I made the commitment everything fell into place. I was on a plane to Virginia, but first I had to stop to see friends who I had never met.
Part 1  :  A number of years ago my client and friend Chris, introduced me to a number of  books about the most well known abductee family in the United States;The Andreason's.

 Creepy I thought. Having been personally violated as a child I could not imagine the sheer terror, upset and psychological havoc that an abduction scenario could have on any child or adult. I trusted Chris, so I read the books. I was more than  fascinated.The detail and clarity of their experiences was mesmerizing, but it was the resonance of heart and truth that captivated me. The same feeling that I had  when reading Whitley Strieber’s COMMUNION.

How did these seemingly normal people deal with such adverse and exquisite experiences? Were Becky, her children and grand children all a part of a huge mass experiment, or just the day in a life of some wacky people who had all been brain washed into believing they had these things happen?

Becky, now a few years older than me has been remembering events with the visitors/beings/elders/angels since she was three. These accounts as well as extensive hypnosis and lie detectors tests are all recorded  in Ray Fowlers books. Her childlike voice and years of experiences both terrestrial and extraterrestrial made this woman loving, tolerant, deeply sensitive, highly intuitive and funny, we became phone friends. I incessantly teased her about the visitors, who I called the critters , those who watched her, cared and educated her, until... it got close to me.

It was in one of my sessions with Chris, where the room lit up with bright light, and then I saw a green flash right beside Chris’s head. “whoa did you see that” I yelped. "There was a big green flash of light right beside your head.!!” Chris said “well Becky called me this morning and said, if you are in a session with Marla tonight and you see a flash of light, then you will know the visitors are there”.

 Becky amused simply said,“ Oh Mala (her new England accent flavored my name), they have always been around, you are just now interested” Yes is was a profound thought that these "visitors" could be interacting with everyone. This is a conversation that not many people have over dinner; worth thinking about.
I made sure there was enough aluminium foil  in my pantry to cover my head, just in case.

Becky often gets her own kind of  messages, the kind that a psychic needs sometimes, one sentence messages that were spot on and always helpful in my ever changing life. She has become a dear  friend and now it was time to meet her.

Betty and Becky Andreason, and Bob Luca ( Betty's Husband) met me  in a motel just outside the Roanoke airport. They were perfectly normal, down to earth, smart, well spoken, and no antennas coming out of their heads. Yet their spirits were huge, and the memories of 50 to 60 some years of being with these visitors was just as real to them as you and I remembering birthdays, weddings, the time the roof blew off during a bad storm, except these events were extraordinary. My question was how do they handle it all? That was easily answered by Betty, "its our faith and belief in the Lord that gets us through this" as all three of them so eloquently expressed that during our chat that afternoon. I brought a new finagled audio recorder and put it on the table  in the middle of the room, what was said can be heard on the subscribers section of unknownountry.com starting 11/13/10

http://www.unknowncountry.com/

 Here is just a glimpse  what follows Becky around in her yard.
A photos of a craft. An odd bluish orb with a cross in it. A back yard  of  ectoplasm and light.

 Becky's web site is  http://www.beckyandreasson.com/

My HEREAFTER

The movie HEREAFTER has a resonance of beauty and possibility. What we resonate in our personal consciousness is what we will pull to ourselves; like attracts like. I can only hope that this movie might be a needed a shift in the zeitgeist about psychic mediums.

Even my daily conversation of life after death, has been dramatically affected since seeing the movie.I had just been to The Monroe Institute, where the work we do there is  to explore other levels of consciousness. I had a vision while I was training at TMI that was almost identical to a scene in the movie. I was stunned  and  wondered, what other gifts will this movie deliver?

When I left the theatre, I was sober  to what this work can do, does do and will do for others. It was a humbling experience. I just wanted to call up Clint Eastwood the director and thank him for having the courage to do such a careful smart film. I don’t have Clint’s number.

No matter the strength of my intention, Spirit has “its” own time frame about things, I learned to surrender to this. I am a student of the HEREAFTER.

Two days after seeing the movie I went to Whole Foods, a popular L. A. grocery. I ran smack into Jennifer Lewis a well known terrific African American actress, who has a strong and palpable role in the movie.

I introduced myself having met her before when I was working as an actress, “ Jennifer I just wanted to tell you what a pleasure it was to see you in HEREAFTER, I was deeply moved by your work". I told her how much I appreciated the intelligence and care Eastwood took in addressing this subject, ‘ Oh my thank you so much, God is good”she said, I agreed.  I told her that I had left acting to surrender to the call of being a psychic medium, she was surprised and interested. I suggested that perhaps this movie could help people over come their fears about death and bring a better understanding to the subject, she concurred. I said “Please pass a thank you on to Clint and everyone connected to this movie”. We hugged and wished each other well.

That same night I sat in my writing class heightened with emotion, not knowing if I was sensitive about sharing a chapter in my book, or if I was still feeling the fallout of  the movie. This group of writers was pulled together by my friend Minda Burr a feisty talented motivational speaker/ writer who was pushed to give writers a forum. Minda’s former boyfriend Dan passed from pancreatic cancer just four months ago. She had been a part of his life and death and was simply exhausted, a recent hospital stay flattened her; she asked Spirit for help and direction. She woke, knowing that a writing group is what she was to do, she felt it was divined by Dan. She graciously invited me.

Eight of us were sitting in my office when we all started to talk about Dan Lewk. Minda started to share about the profound relationship that Dan had with Gary a vested screenwriter in the group. Their bond was deeper than even brothers. As Gary was talking about Dan, I felt a deep compassionate love  pass through me and embrace Gary, then the light on the table, right beside Gary went out. Everyone went silent for a few seconds, sensing something special was occurring.

And then Minda said "Wouldn't it be amazing if Danny is actually here listening to this whole conversation?" And I responded " Oh he's here alright." And then Minda said, "DANNY IS THAT YOU??" Then the light on the table jolted and came back on instantaneously! We all looked at each other to make sure we all saw the same thing. We all nervously laughed, but realized we shared one of those WOW moments where everyone in the room sensed his presence. We  knew an extraordinary communication had been given, as well as received.

This brief but powerful part of the HEREAFTER touched us all.

Death as a Door

The process of death is a subject that fascinates some, but terrifies most; usually do to some hard wired religious beliefs of hell and damnation. I have been part of a number of death processes this year.I feel empowered in the strange but powerful gift of death as  life beams through the cracks.

I guess I have a different perspective, having spent years talking to the dead. It is the various things I have heard from the deceased that have convinced  me that there is a much bigger picture going on. I believe death is a door to greater possibilities.

I've been shown and told numerous times that when loved ones were dying, they were out of their body before too much suffering takes place. Yes it is terrible to watch others in pain, but the body can only take so much. "I was out of my body before the end came” “I watched as you held my hand, drove away from the hospital”, and in cases of murder I often hear, “I was just shocked that someone wanted to hurt me and I was taken right our of my skin by a loving benevolent force that did not want me to feel any more pain”, “my mother came and got me, I was met by angels and escorted to a party for me”, " "I walked into the light and have never felt so much love" "thank God I am out of that broken body", the stories go on and on.

That is the point when loved ones die, we are left with the pain of their loss. However the living don’t understand that the dead can see and  feel our pain too. The dead get a better  perspective that we all have things to learn about love and compassion and sometimes they know their death is for a greater purpose.


I recently got to spend time with Bob and his daughter Robin, who three years ago lost their beloved wife and mother Diane, to cancer. Diane was my dear friend who understood and believed in my work. She was a terrific soul of love humor grace and tenacity. We enjoyed each other so much that no matter where we in the world we’d chat on the phone each week. I was not permitted to see Diane’s illness, she’d ask, “can you see what is wrong with me, all I could see was a black wall when I tried, I was prevented from  seeing,what could have been helpful to her as an early diagnosis or could have helped her beat the cancer. The only thing I heard was, "tell her to see another Doctor” and Diane wrestled with that, until she finally did and was diagnosed with 4th stage ovarian cancer.

We had time to plan her death. I remember in June of 2007 sitting on my deck in the Hollywood hills talking with Diane on the phone.I was so very sad that she had such little time left when she said,  “Marla, I have to go, my family won't grow unless I am gone”. She had an understanding that was bigger than what we knew.

This seemed to resonate in both of us like the gospel truth.  "I cant stop doing so much for them, they look to me to handle everything. Some how this family dynamic is stopping them their development,"  "I know I can’t change this here on earth, only in my death with this transform”, We were both stunned by her revelation. This gave her strength to die and it gave me more reason to live. 

Three years later Bob and his children are thriving, they miss her deeply but ever thankful for what Diane in her life and even in her death gave them. Could this be one of the great reasons for death, to help we the living?

Its there opportunity that death presents for growth, or can we only think of the pain it causes? It is that excruciatingly wonderful pain that transforms lives.

Every family has issues, but it is true that in death comes change. Our departed loved ones, who grieve for us on the other side, WANT us to live better, WANT us to be healthy, WANT us to have full and rich lives.

It is curious to think that we have a job to do when our loved ones die that goes beyond us making funeral arrangements and giving eulogies.The loss that comes is tremendous but perhaps the loss is what we need to embrace our lives. 

 It is in how we see death that might give us more life.  Perhaps death is a door to greater possibilities.