A Heralded Future


A Heralded Future

Psychic experience is labeled as phenomena because it is not sufficiently understood. It is called paranormal because it is outside the average person’s experience. What it is, is memory. Having lifetimes behind them and coming into this world with open or partially opened heads and talents that moth and rust do not destroy, it is a wonder that we don’t have more people with more than the usual five senses. Believers and Christians alike who take as an authority the New Testament Jesus, have him telling us to put our time and effort into those things that moth and rust do not destroy. And why? Because these talents then are ours. Forever.

One talent more than the usual five may just mean 2 percent more than the average person, but a 2 percent increase in brain cognizance makes the one seated next to you very different. And when we were told that my father’s house has many rooms, we know on this calendar date that there are worlds outside of us as well as penetrating and interpenetrating where different senses are used.

Three quarters of the world believe we have lived before. Books by the dozens in libraries around the world have proven data of prior existence. Have evidence to prove that there was no false information given. We call these people psychic when in actuality their heads are more open than the average person. Of course we would have other senses refined in other worlds carried by those who have lived many lives and have much in memory that the science doctors call imagination. Where is this imagination located? In the DNA of course and places like the heart and mind. Yes, we would have talents and extra senses. And for whatever reason, by birth, by shock or trauma as is often the case, or simply by intent and motive to make a difference, these senses are called phenomena.

In the course of human life, in wars and religions and institutions of various orders, we have done disastrous things to the soul and hearts of people. Religions have penalized their congregants who demonstrate unusual talents when compared to others who have the recognized five. Remember the witch hunts. Instead of being the safety net and loving arms beneath those who already are bullied by families or on the playground or in the marketplace, they are further dismissed by the medical people who do not know how to help those distressed in a world unaccepting of psychic differences.

One world at a time is enough to handle for the average person. But there is much we can learn from the child or adult who has access to worlds beyond ours. That one you just dismissed may actually be the angel unaware of a much needed and heralded future. Our loss is vast. We have no tools to measure this loss.

Photo by Veronica

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The Chime Clock


The Chime Clock

It is far past the hour
when the bell chimes
and I know when the hour
will strike again.

Many times we’ve heard
the bell strike our time
only to ignore the possibility
of a door opening.

We think it closes
forever on us,
yet the motive for its closure
is to ensure its opening.

Perhaps on a possibility
not thought of
or perhaps not ours before
this particular chime

declares us to our world and time.

Photo by Joshua Hallissey

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Thoughts Enroute


Thoughts Enroute

The cliché ‘I am only human’ is a self qualifier and an excuse in case of failure.

Reverse psychology would have humans admitting their divine self and then the Heavens would have reason to shout, ‘Prove it!’ We then might not fall so squarely on our ethics.

The only tool necessary in physical life is a shovel. We should be born with one attached to our navel.

That the sun will rise in the morning is not the miracle. But that our eyes open to view it, is.

The wonder of life is that there is as much agreement as there is without constant collision of realities.

When our journey is completed we will not be asked what did you do but what did you think?

Thinking is an art form.

To connect the dots and worry is advanced thinking. Not everyone is equipped to do it. In fact the worrier is criticized as not having faith. The truth is that the worrier has knowledge.

The amount of energy we endow our illusions will determine their reality.

It does no good to see all sides of an issue when the heart is concerned with only one side.

We may not have signed up for the class, but it seems the obstacles we face have us in training for sainthood. Conscience limits our options.

The continuity of life is the only view worth harboring.



art by Claudia Hallissey

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In All Things


In All Things

In all things,
the wheat will be gathered
and the chaff discarded.
The kernel bears the fruit
but the husk in its time
will yield its stuff.

It will be found worthy
by those in search of husks.
And then the chaff discarded
will be left to kernel another time.

The lilies will be beautiful
and the mustard will yield a seed
to carpet all of the world.
We will one day bless
the utility of it all.

So when we prepare our truth
for another world,
where the kernel is cherished,
we will again be refined
for another world and time.

Ponder a mystery.
How to judge the wheat and
by what method dismiss the chaff?
Except we lament the errors
and rectify promises not kept?
Falling upon another time,
those will carpet the world.

And I, with honed thought
and justified motive,
will follow them, each.
And when they stumble
with foot unsure,

I will bend and pick them up,
for they bear my name.

poem from The Last Bird Sings
Art by Claudia Hallissey

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We  began in universal waters
as particles of nonsense,
showing no discernment.
We collided and combusted
when two immutable pieces united.
We formed an eye of calm
in the maelstrom and grew.
Spongy surfaces clung to us and
weedlike trails spun from us.

With no conscious knowledge we grew
and yielded a vitrum that put forth ague.
Our disposition was entrusted
to a holier source than we.
For as we spun our sugars an Other
spun for us.

In collusion,  we engendered knowledge,
fraught with growing pains.
Our positions were tortured
by a history of emotions and
tattered memories surfacing.
We danced on hot rocks.
We slept in cold places.
We loved in silence and cried out loud.
We became Man when we dreamed
the earth into being.

Even now we dream of universal glory,
charting the voyage through universal seas.
We will become a particle in an Other’s dream,

whose discernment only now begins.

Poem from Kiss The Moon
photo by Joshua Hallissey

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Memory Quilt



Memory Quilt


When it is time
I will draw high
my memory quilt,
to cover shivering bones.

Pictured will be events
richly patterned
and pleasing
to the soul.

Astonishing not to recall
emotions pressed beyond belief,
battles fought
to frightful finishes.

Left like barnacles
clinging to a disabled craft,
slippery in substance,
suitable only for discard.

When it is time,
the memory quilt drawn
will show kaleidoscopic events
lending warmth to fragile skin,

haunting in their beauty
while I take flight

in triumph, warmed.


Poem from Kiss The Moon
artwork by Claudia Hallissey

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Pieces Of The Rock



Pieces Of The Rock

Destiny causes us to pursue what is inherently ours, pleads our cause and then the ethers guard jealously the petitions.

The intangibles provide the greater obstacles in life.

The storm is the whirlwind but what follows is gentle on the brow.

If your batteries need recharging, how will you light up the world?

When the heart takes a sabbatical, more than a transplant is needed.

Easy to be philosophical on a full stomach?   Physical hunger is only one of many hungers and the easiest to satisfy.

If one can afford it,   a blank check can be written to feed the world’s physical hunger. No amount of money can touch spiritual hunger.

We tire eventually of depending on sheer endurance.

Solitary communion feeds.

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Don’t Stare At The Moon

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Don’t Stare At The Moon

Any farmer knows
you don’t stare at the moon too long.
You get a little soft in the head, they say.

What they really mean
is that magic overtakes you
and carries you to the place of green fields,
of orchards heavy with fruit
and cucumbers cultivated straight
as a shot of rye whiskey.

What they really mean is that the magic
will make you see fields to be seeded
and calves to be born
and worlds to be peopled.

What they really mean
is that you will fall in love
with your earth
and in awe watch the wheat weave its gold mat
right over your eyes.

It is a softness of the heart man fears,
for the myth must enforce
the hard head to blunt

the pain of life everlasting.

art by Claudia Hallissey

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Our Sacred Source

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In rereading some of my blog beginning material,  I found posts that I felt should be repeated.   Many of my newest readers may not be familiar with my work with situations that have become more important as time elapses.  This is one of them concerning my beloved Earth schoolroom.   I present it again and hope it may bring discussion to the dinner table.

Our Sacred Source

I heard a grandchild say at a very young age, ‘when mamma is happy the whole family is happy.’   I have seen when a family is in turmoil,  in sickness, and  the hot water tank springs a leak,  the washing machine stops  that mama says,  this we can handle, even   when we  are  out of bread, out of milk with  no cereal in the cupboards.   I have also seen things go right when a family is working in harmony under adverse conditions  because the parent gods work to make it so.

A young friend says to me that she hates what cloudy weather  does to her and is it ever going to stop raining?  We give credence to all these feelings.   One day I said to another friend, ‘ how are  you treating the world?’   ‘Don’t you mean how is the world treating me?’  he asks.   I assure him I meant what I asked.

It is not a far stretch to see that our Mother Earth reacts the same way.   Our Earth  reacts to human trauma.   It reacts to human turmoil and human agonies.  There are those who say that earthquakes and tornadoes  and other tragedies are part of Nature and because we have such high tech systems,  we learn of them more quickly.   But we are now a planet of greater numbers and we live in each others’ pockets.   We no longer have large expanses of lands and waters that can absorb Nature’s hiccups.   A tsunami is not a hiccup anymore when thousands of people are running for their lives while water is pushing new beaches where beaches never were before.

When the Earth splits in two and hundreds are swallowed  in another earthquake while the other side of the world moans in pain as markets react and jobs and economies are torn asunder, this tells us  we are of one brotherhood.  We are as natural to our planet as all other species and events.  Thoughts carry power as strong as Nature itself.  Thoughts and emotions weigh heavily and will have their aftermath somewhere.

We cannot separate Nature’s events from the emotions that view them.  We rise from the same bed.  Let us respect and pay homage to our Sacred Source.

photo by John Holmes

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Angels We Have Heard

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Angels We Have Heard

He came up quietly and stood shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I put my book down and waited for him to speak. Can we go, he asked, to see the lady with the blue cloths? Is there a reason you want to go, I asked. And he said I need answer to question.

Okay, I said, we can do that. I can be ready in a few minutes. And he ran to get himself together and we were good to go. We chattered about many things on the way to the place with the lady with the blue cloths. There was no mention of the things that needed answers. I asked if I could be with him while he talked to her. Always, he said, he wanted me to be part of the answers. I not like secrets, he said, just regular stuffs that he had been thinking about.

So we entered the place and were welcomed with hugs. He said he needed to ask some things and she was the one who would be able to answer him. We went to a small table where she did her work and she made us comfortable. Ask me what you need to know, she said. And the young one looked at her and said in a firm voice, I don’t want to forget where I come from, he said, and I afraid I won’t ‘member and how can I ‘member when my friends say it is baby stuff I talk about. Yet my friends who not seen, are part of that other place. I not want to forget them ‘cause they say things that are ‘portant. How can I ‘member when here friends don’t talk?

The hardest part, she said, is for you to want to remember. You must do the remembering and see how everything connects. It will be hard for you and they will make fun of you. But the here friends are afraid to be different. And only when you remember from where you have come can you make life better and make a difference. You may not see the difference you make, but from another place, it is a big difference. It hurts when they laugh and you wonder especially if it is important. But it is, it is. And good friends will want to be with you. Because they know you are special. She had put her hand over his on the table and he curled his fingers around hers.

He stood up and said, I ‘member. You help me to ‘member. Yes, she said, you will. You will. He took my hand and we thanked her. She nodded and whispered it begins and I bless.

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