Something remarkable and normal has happened. As I said in my last post, I have been going through a bit of a tough time. So when I went to bed shortly after dark last night I said a prayer. I asked very specifically to be shown that I am being heard and guided – and I said, “either in my dreams tonight or in my YouTube feed in the morning.” Strangely, I didn’t remember any dreams. But as I checked in after reading email and messages, here was the first video in my feed:
Next question! I’ve written about Tiokasin Ghosthorse in prior blog posts. I’ll try to link those at the bottom here. He teaches us that in the Lakota language there are no nouns. They don’t need them. They know something we don’t in our Western culture: everything is a verb. Everything is in relationship to everything else, and everything is in process. We are becoming.
I’m writing this on Saturday (to post Sunday) and the election is 3 days away. Everyone is on edge. Friends and family I haven’t heard from in years are contacting me and want to know what will happen. Throughout my adult life I have often been employed, paid or not, to be a psychic. I do know where this is going. I know who will win the election and I know what will transpire afterward (btw, I have predicted them all accurately, as a few close friends could attest. They all argued with me prior to election day in 2016.) However, I am not telling. You do not need to know. If you never hear anything else I ever say, hear this: you never need to know. This was explained to me directly by God, who showed up in a dream in my 20’s, and did not look at all as expected. We argued about that. I wanted proof. He pointed at the television and started playing movies made just for me with my people in them, showing me things I could not have imagined. That gave remote viewing a whole new meaning…
Yes, I read tarot cards. No, I am not a fortune teller. That is not what the tarot is for. The Indigo Girls said it best: “the less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine.”
You will be fine. No matter what happens, and most especially no matter how you feel about it. Did you think that meant it would be easy?! Yeah, I make that mistake myself, hence the dark night.
We are having a spectacular fall here along the Lake Michigan shore. The weather is warmer than I remember in a long while. I think we had snow last year by this time. Yesterday it rained gently off and on all day while the sun shone. In many native cultures they say that means you are being blessed. I’ll take it.
In my efforts of late to get myself organized and live more simply, I’ve been cleaning out old notebooks. I came across a journal entry from years ago explaining polychronic time. I just this week discovered that many cultures around the world, especially indigenous cultures, still practice polychronic time. Here in our western society, and the (eh-hmmm) more advanced cultures, we live according to monochronic time.
Anthropologists tell us that cultures such as the Inuits of Alaska, that use polychronic time, tend to value relationships over schedules. They understand that time is unpredictable. For instance, they might go to work according to the tides, so their schedule changes regularly. The scientific term chronemics is used to describe how time is perceived; it’s considered a sub-genre in the study of nonverbal communication.
This is fascinating to me. Let’s just say that I have always had a loosey-goosey relationship with time. Oh – I mean fluid…yeah – that’s the word I’m looking for. Full disclosure, I often time travel while my body is sleeping, but I’ve had it happen during meditation, and even during bodywork sessions. I don’t know how it happens, don’t know why, don’t care. I visit other countries, even other planets, telepathically communicate with other species. Do we all do this as children and I’ve just never outgrown it? No idea. I do know, sure as I am sitting at the keyboard writing this today, that time and gravity are the same thing. Or intricately interdependent. Blur the limitations of one and you blur the limitations of both. Time and space are false concepts we were indoctrinated with here in this cult where we temporarily reside. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.
It was a psychologist I was seeing in my 30’s who taught me the difference between this phenomena and fantasy. Because I will close my eyes in one place and time and open them in another, fully present, all 5 senses fully intact. It took years of practice not to panic when this happened, so that I could stay with the experience and not jolt myself back. The first thing I learned was to look down at my hands and focus on my breath. This allowed for a few seconds at least to listen, smell, maybe look around if I felt it was safe to do so, and try to grasp the situation I was in. This was precluded, of course, by the belief that it must be happening for a reason. I had slipped into another time and space for a reason, somehow to be of service there, even if for a few seconds. Now I trust it. It might be something as seemingly innocuous as speaking the right sentence, something the stranger I was with may not have known to say. I never know.
Most of the time this experience is random and happens to me. Every once in awhile I can initiate it for my own intent, usually because I want to gather information when I know a loved one is in trouble. Or locate a lost pet. A few times I’ve had close friends ask me about some concern of theirs and I managed to make it work. I saw Elisabeth Smart in an underground bunker this way and assured my distraught friend that she was alive, and, that she would be recognized on the street by a passerby one day soon. I once located a missing man who had drowned, tangled in a pile of junk at the bottom of a lake, stuck in the torn webbing of an old lawn chair. He asked me not to disclose his location; he preferred not to be found. I’ve woken early after spending the night in a city during an earthquake. I knew I was in Asia by looking at the people around me, and so turned the news on the television to discover an earthquake had hit Kobe, Japan during the night. Apparently I’d volunteered as a rescue worker.
This shit happens to me all the time. If I say I’m tired, believe me; I worked all night. It used to freak me out. As a young child I’d run screaming to my parents, thinking I was dying. I must have been a fun kid. I remember the first time I saw the television show Quantum Leap, first feeling validated and relieved that other people were having these experiences also, and then thinking, no, they didn’t get that right. I certainly had no sidekick or homing device (other than my body.)
But I’ve gone off on a tangent here. The point, if there is one, is that time has never made sense to me. All through my working life I barely managed to keep to a schedule. I will probably never know if any of this serves any kind of useful purpose, but I am 100% certain that the reality we know through our five senses is but the tip of the iceberg. Our existence is so much larger and richer than what this obvious, or gross, reality would have us believe.
I’ve long revered the teacher Carolyn Myss, who says that “intuition is organic divinity – God in your blood and bones.” I know this is true. And decades ago, when she first published Anatomy of the Spirit, she inadvertently taught me an invaluable tool for protecting myself: “I command my spirit into my body in full at this time.” It’s all I’ve ever needed. Well, that and the Lord’s Prayer. I learned that in high school from reading the Gnostic Gospels. Christ predicates it in the Sermon on the Mount by telling us it’s the only prayer we will ever need, and I accepted that as truth with a capital T. It has served me in some some mighty scary encounters.
So where does this leave us today? It leaves me thinking about art, creativity, imagination, the intuitive workings of life. I’ve always joked, “all’s fair in love, war, and art.” That pretty much covers everything. Art is any thought, word, or action that is expansive or constructive. Art is alchemy.
Artists are natural alchemists, and time and space are their mediums. We think it’s paint or paper or metal or film, but those are merely convenient materials at hand. Artists instinctively know that we are eternal beings of light and vibrating energy. The wizard Maurice Sendak knew. By the way – he never wrote a children’s book in his life. He says he wouldn’t know how. That statement alone opens a continuous hallway of portals to explore…
Maurice Sendak, Where The Wild Things Are, from my Amazon affiliate link, which may result in a commission: https://amzn.to/45MCnle and Wild Things Are Happening, The Art of Maurice Sendak, https://amzn.to/3VHSuMe
A Painterly Home 