The Cholesterol Mystic: Intuitive Connection With a Specific Purpose

10403216_10204158808664490_425564217508364422_nI have been on Statin drugs since I was diagnosed with high cholesterol at 26. I will turn 40 this year, and I am asking myself how I can create real inner change without them. Medical intuitives are plentiful in our society, even as main-stream media does not demonstrate this to the public. How does an individual used to channeling a broad range of insight sharpen her pencil? This was my question, and now I’m starting to get answers.

It requires creating a realm for this purpose. A realm is the sharpened pencil. It means tuning out the wide strokes of the universe. It means opening a fine line of insight just having to do with cholesterol. This is what I’ve gained this morning.

It takes a leap of faith. It means not taking my medicine for 3 months to mark progress. This is my desire. Spirit doesn’t care. I was given this advice however.

When channeling, try to elaborate as little as possible. Me elaborate? In other words, spirit is saying shutty!

Next, be aware of and release preconceived ideas about this process.

“Opening your arteries can be a pleasant experience.”

I was reminded that I am working with millimeters of space within my body. In other words, feel the encouragement not a mountain in front of you.

Cholesterol, I learned, has to do with how we hold sentiment. Sudden shocks to the system that emotions bring are to be expected, but it is our conversations with self that allow them to continue. Allowing your reactions to flow through you like a screen is important.

Also, welcome two new entities. A little mystery is to be expected, I suppose.

Finally, I was reminded that this is an hour by hour process. Taking it in small chunks, I presume, will prevent the emotions from failure and success from lasting too long. The next hour will always be there with a fresh start.


Earth Day Reminds Us to Appreciate the Very Small


I started this year with a dream where I was under the chin of a turtle. I was so close to the ground that this ancient face looked down on mine. Did it plan to hurt me, I wondered. No, it was saying this is how close you will be to Earth this year. Centered on the ground beneath my feet has put me in the garden, and I love taking photos of what I find. This moss was found in an Echinacea pot we were selling at work. I made a terrarium out of it, because don’t you just love the little palm trees?

I have planted a garden in my front yard that looks obnoxious as far as the typical subdivision landscape is concerned, but it has the spirit of a child. My child and I love to water it together. We pick strawberries. We find caterpillars with a magnifying glass. There is not much time after work and before bedtime, but this shaggy patch allows quality. I’m having to learn to set my phone down. He’s got good aim with the hose.

Then there was the blooming privet. I spotted interesting action last evening. Beetles were doing it all over my bush! I mean all over. It’s a big bush.


IMG_4298Note that the lady beetles don’t shave their legs before sex either. I like that gal’s serious grip on the leaf and how his back foot is touching her back foot. This sort of act was going on all over this shrub. The stench of drug store cologne nearly put me face down in my Better Boy tomato patch.


You Will Find Yourself Where You Are Needed


In other words, chill out. Breathe. Know that you are exactly where you need to be. Are you like me? During a horrible time in your life, someone has dropped this crappy line on you, and you wanted to jab them with a fondue fork. I know I hit an artery, but breathe through the blood. You are right where you need to be.

That poor sucker you stuck like a chocolate piece of pineapple is absolutely right though. By embracing where you are, you can become aware of its importance. You can see that nobody does you better than you. What you bring is needed. That’s why it is vital to take care of yourself. Honor yourself, and set personal boundaries so that you are not allowing others to take advantage of your energy. Use it wisely, and you will know when the time is right.

That flow that we talk about has levels. For example, you can start off the day consciously telling yourself things like: I’m going to be positive. I’m going to help others. I’m going to embrace the day. All of that is good, but after a while you embody that. You just slip from your groggy morning into a day where you shine. You might not know you are shiny. It can happen when you are covered in mud, or as I like to call it rich organic matter suitable for planting. Others need the light, and they will show up and reflect it back to you. Who will you be there for?IMG_3477

My job puts me in contact with the general public all the time, and you might think a busy plant nursery would prevent conversations about anything heavy. In the course of a year, however, I have had three women talk to me about the death of their husbands. I have had a man carry in an ailing peace lily that marked the death of his son in 1994, and a woman tell me about the loss of her sister only a month before. Do the colorful posies and plants make people want to open up? Is it my curiosity and tendency to engage customers in conversation that allows it? If so, think about why it only happens with certain people? I have had lots of people buy plants for funerals or cemeteries, but there are certain people that find me. Or I find them. Better yet, we find each other. We share space, breathe, and have an authentic exchange that feels spiritual – if only from its lack of superfluous word clutter. It’s bare-bones humanity surrounded by the healing green energy of plants.

There is a tenderness among tribal living that doesn’t seem to exist in modern life. Standing close to people, touching during a conversation, soothing another’s emotional wound with a caress. These are human behaviors that have been weeded out for fear that sexuality will creep in and cause havoc. At the same time, spa treatments, massages, and chiropractic work are prevalent. We seek connection. We seek a falling away of pleasantries in order to get closer to the heart.

Insight On Letting Go

In my last blog entry brought up doubt and asked you to consider that our nutrition might energize doubt within our body. I suggested that it is not simply an emotion. There could actually be physicality to doubt, and that means what we put into our body could help counter it.

Now, on the eve of the new moon, I’m considering the physical, mental, and emotional layers to letting go. I’m not saying I’ve figured it all out. What I’m saying is that looks like an epiphany is rising on the horizon. You see, I hate letting go. Sometimes that translates to stuff in an old box, but more times and not it includes people. If I’ve ever loved you, the piggyback attachment has followed. I loved you, the dynamic we once shared. I’m not always speaking romantically. I’m talking about the flow of people in and out of one’s life. It’s never been easy for me. Tonight, I’m asking why and getting a few answers.

Turmeric is illustrating tonight's post on not letting go.

Turmeric is illustrating tonight’s post on not letting go.

I’ve stumbled into a YouTube playlist with Sarah Mclachlan and the Cranberries. I’m recalling other times,  the angst of a tight grip. I recall the wanting to hold, the pain in the chest that accompanies release. Tears, there have always been lots of tears with letting go. Oh, and the heat that rises off your body when you’re consumed with grief and a desire for another reality. Not letting go makes my ears ring. This all happens when you are ripe with resistance.

You move through the not letting go feeling for just a few moments at first. Maybe it’s the time it takes to inhale and exhale. A while later, maybe it’s the time it takes to drink a glass of water. Soon though, after months, maybe even a year, you can let go all the way up a steep hill on your bicycle. You can let go long enough to change the paint on your walls or your job. This is when you’ve gotten really good at it, and then you notice something peculiar.

At 6:02 every evening you are not letting go. You’re heading home from work. You buckle your seatbelt, turn on any number of radio stations or CD’s, and you check out the pool. You dip your toes in at first, and oh it’s so familiar. Not dangerous. More like an old buddy with bad cologne. Halfway home, and your diving down deep. You’re singing Adia, or some freakin’ Cold Play song like you’re creating a soundtrack for a wound. Your cutting yourself with lyrics and cherishing the ache like smoke from your father’s pipe. Why this ritual inflammation?IMG_8235

The nobility or spiritual enlightenment behind letting go was never a helpful tool in release, but here’s what was: the anatomy of attachment. I was only feeling attachment.

  • Shame
  • Depression
  • Fear

These are low vibrations and part of the not letting go feeling. They are low energies but not the sum of the reality. In fact, they hide some valuable insight.

  • Did you know that you were being loved while you struggled to let go? The whole time. Love is love and not qualified by who sends it to you. It is divine and you’ve been surrounded by it. It’s all yours whether you choose to feel it or listen to depressing songs.
  • Did you know that you were being let go too? Maybe not in the way you let go, but don’t assume someone else had it easy. Don’t wish them to have it hard. You just need to realize that your worth was never part of the letting go equation. Worth, the soul’s worth, is divine. Identifying with separation is necessary to heal and grow and find peace, but don’t make it mean something else. Even as you experience separateness, you can shift to the sensation of connection. Not attachment, but a beautiful and even sensual connection.
  • Finally, it may be time to start a new ritual. At 9:09 every night, why not consider grace instead of worry. Why not be in a place that sees us as beautiful babies, then boys and girls, then men and women who share bliss and move through blindness over and over again.

A Spoonful of Sugar Is A Mouthful of Doubt: Maybe

Women are bound to each other in our knowledge of self-doubt. It finds us all. What do you do? Are you the sort to overcome or retreat to what’s tried, true, and uncreative?IMG_4124

It sounds harsh, but empowering women means boosting the saturation. It means getting more of ourselves out there. Show me a confident woman, and I will show you there are layers beneath the veneer. Doubt, however, doesn’t have to be a misspelled tattoo or a brand on a cow’s ass. See it more as the beep of a microwave oven. There’s a door that needs to be opened.

Doubt is so pervasive among women. It reaches all women on the planet. It colors every type of decision we could possibly make. Let’s stop reducing it to a feeling. Doubt is a symptom. Oh, and think about how much we fear symptoms.  Doubt says this part of my life needs work. It needs my attention. Fear is the fangs of doubt and  revealed with our initial reaction to it.

Here "doubt" is being played by celery root which also happens to look like Chet in the film Weird Science.

Here “doubt” is being played by celery root which also happens to look like Chet in the film Weird Science.

“I bet _________ doesn’t feel this way,” we cry. We separate ourself from the pack which only serves to fuel doubt. “She is so__________.” We look at the view outside our self, outside our physical body, and outside our spiritual one. We’re abandoning ship, ladies. We’re volunteering to walk the plank. There is so much collective fear we are not able to fully care for ourselves. We are not able to fully create. We are not able to be present without a little regret and guilt afterward.

Does relaxing make you feel it?

Does affording healthy food make you feel it?

What about the time it takes to put the food in your mouth, chew, and swallow? Could you have been more efficient with your time?

What sort of stimulants do you put in your body so that you can get more done? Isn’t the feeling of accomplishment the real drug of choice? Will you sacrifice your food and sleep to get it?

How much doubt is there in areas called food deserts?

I am planting a garden that is nontraditional. I have been in the garden business since 2001, and doubt floods me when neighbors walk by. You see, I’ve dug out beds into a lawn and not put any borders around them. I’ve sewed clover seed for bees. I’ve allowed weeds to grow and bloom. It looks unkempt. I have doubt. Not about whether people will approve. I know some will not.  There is another component to this symptom. My throat feels tight as I type this. If I’m not careful it will sink to my heart. Doubt is not simply fueled by not loving and accepting one’s self. There is more to it. We must treat our bodies so that they can move energy better.

That tightness in my throat was an energetic reaction to thinking about doubt. I summoned it by writing this article. I get the same feeling when I think about how I set my grape seed oil on fire in the kitchen today. Food has more importance than we give it credit for. The subtractive nature of what we call healthy eating may be feeding this epidemic of doubt. We take away from our portions. We take away things like salt, fat, and even the time it takes to shop, cook and eat.

I challenge you to combat your doubt with self-care, and by what you eat in particular. I challenge you to add to your menu and see that it feels good. It feels adventurous. It feels indulgent and yet balanced. Investigate what your body needs.

Thyroid health is tied to the throat chakra, and this cyan energy center is often labeled only as one of self-expression. It is also tied to dental health. Caring for one’s self means giving our mouth, throat and voice value. It also means giving our appetite value. It means not finding nobility and strength in deprivation. It means not asking people to tell us what we already know but have failed thus far to say: We are okay and then some.

Ghost Attachment and the New Mid-Western Mystic


Dorothy looked like other customers, except that she didn’t. She bought the same plants as other customers, except she planned to shlep them back to her home in Michigan. There was something about Dorothy, a difference, a gram of mystery. I found myself locked on her like she was a 50 pound snapping turtle crossing in front of my car. Then she left.

This happens to me a lot. I understand that there is something to understand about people, but polite society deems it inappropriate to pick someone else’s nose for answers. I have found myself wondering the purpose of it all. Why get goosed by curiosity? Why this potty dance to interview people about their lives? I figured it out when Dorothy came back to that very same spot in front of the counter.

I got this familiar tingle of energy in the upper left side of my head at the exact second our eyes met. I’ve learned through experience that this precedes a meaningful exchange, so here I am with the turtle face again. What? What is it? I hated to do it. I ran down the list. I used the word “energy” in reference to Savannah. Was she energy sensitive? No. What did she think of Savannah? I wondered had the city affected her in some profound way. Nothing out of the norm. She lived here half the year, the weather, bla-bla-bla. Finally, I did what I hate to do. I said that I was psychic. Let me be clear. I like sharing that I’m intuitive and hearing about the experiences of others, but the word psychic feels like a bad fitting bra. It’s just too broad.

“I am so glad you said that,” Dorothy said. Relief made her shoulders fall.


“I’ve had one living with me for almost three years now.”

“One what,” I asked.

“A ghost,” Dorothy said. “It’s my father.”


Every ghost story has layers, and I bring this up both for those hearing and experiencing their own stories. Dorothy appears to be in her early sixties. She lives half the year in another state. She is approximately 20 years my senior, but we have one important thing in common. Wacky shit started happening to us a while back. When? About three years ago.

“In 2012,” I asked. “That’s when you became aware of your dad’s ghost?” He had been dead for 40 years.

“Yes. I heard his voice,” Dorothy explained. She added that she had heard it through the box used by a professional ghost hunter. This “professional” had confirmed that it was Dorothy’s father, and that he was there to protect her.

Like I said, there are layers to ghost stories. This ghost hunter ended the case with a bit of comforting information. All is well. No prob here. Except for one thing. When Dorothy asked how long ghosts typically stick around, this person told her, “about 2 years.” Cause, you know, spirit’s on a fucking meter.

If ghost stories are looked at on this layer, and only this layer, the job is incomplete. Assistance has not been rendered. In fact, Dorothy was left watching the calendar. Meanwhile, her sleep was being interrupted. While she had a good relationship with her father, why was he there all of the sudden? Oh, and there was someone else. Along with seeing her father, she also saw a very tall figure that she read as her late ex-husband. Ghost had become ghosts. While I’m hearing all of this, I am not getting a single energy sensation. You know why? Because I already have the necessary answers inside me.

Without a single tingle, I explained…


There’s this thing called the kundalini.

There are these things called chakras.

Vibrations, dimensions, awareness.

Oh, and 2012, (I don’t smoke, but it made me want to take a drag from Deepak Chopra’s dick for inspiration.) uh, yeah, uh-

When I opened up, in 2012, like so many others, my clairaudient ability showed up. It paired with the clairsentience I’d been slightly aware of since I was a young girl. The voices weren’t nice. They were my insecurities, and only after a long dark period did I start to make my way through them. They were the low energies of the ego.

Dorothy’s story continued, and my part in this began to come to light. Her third eye was opening up. Her ex-husband stood in a doorway with a bird in his hand.

“He looked like he was going to throw it at me, and I got angry,” Dorothy said. “I shouted for him to leave.” In the mean time, Dorothy’s father stepped in. He motioned for Dorothy to sit on the sofa. Her ex-husband threw the bird anyway. “It was a dove,” she added. It flew across the room, hit the wall and fell to the ground.” The bird vanished after that.

I pointed out to Dorothy that she had figured out who these people were on her own. I also asked if she had any anger toward her ex-husband. She told me she did. I asked if he had ever tried to make peace with her? Yes; he had tried, but Dorothy had none of it.

I explained to Dorothy that we have the ability to project energy around ourselves.

“Are you saying these ghosts aren’t real,” she asked. Dorothy’s mother had seen a ghost once, and Dorothy had called her nuts.

“No. I am not saying that at all,” I told Dorothy. What I believe is that we awaken, and we become aware of the energy around us. Before we deal with the present, or even the future, we must deal with the past. Dorothy’s emotions regarding her ex-husband and father made her resonate with a ghostly dimension. This isn’t the hallucination of one person. This is a dimension that people can experience. If it is a hallucination, what exactly does that mean? Is one person’s hallucination a gateway along the spiritual path? What Dorothy saw wasn’t her ex-husband in his entirety. It wasn’t her father in his entirety. She resonated with parts of each of them. Her father was the protector. Her ex-husband was the target of her anger. Still, I bet her ex had good days, and her father probably had bad days.

Dorothy was having trouble maintaining boundaries with her ghosts. They showed up when she didn’t want them. But, then again, they showed up and triggered her anger. This anger needed expression. After that it needed to be released. There was another interesting point. These ghosts were the men in her life. They showed up when she was alone. If her grand-children spent the night, another Dorothy showed up. This Dorothy drew a definite line in the sand. Neither one of them was to show up and scare the kids, and they didn’t. Dorothy was the protector at these times, and her energy shifted without her awareness. Men, shmen. Don’t fuck with the grand-babies.


Ask yourself whether ghosts have something to teach? When energy blockages in our emotional bodies are not removed, they create patterns in our lives. When our vibration raises our consciousness, we can see these patterns. There are times, rites of passage, when we also see, hear, and feel ghosts.

I Carried a Melon. Should You?

Baby’s famous line in Dirty Dancing got her into the party. It took Johnny Castle to get her in touch with her body. That’s a fantasy: The dance lesson in the lake AND the fact that we can’t get ourselves back in touch. Being tuned into your body means that you can gain insight. You learn from you what your body needs to make it feel its best. The conscious body has lots to tell you. For me, it happens with body sensations and clairaudience. I pick up on energy and hear words having to do with my center. My center is my area of concentration. It means that, with mind, body, and spirit, I am tuned into a certain group of interests. My soul knows that I’m interested in nutrition, and so I wake up and get messages like the one I got recently: Ripe watermelon will take the acid out of your blood.

I work at a plant nursery, and the rushes of spring had given my muscles quite a test. I’ve been in the industry for over a decade, and I expect this. Lately, however, my muscles seemed not to recover as well. I couldn’t sleep at night. Every night during the early morning hours I would find myself doing stretches. I’d drink water, and still the next night would turn out the same way. Watermelon, huh?

I Googled, and darn it if watermelon doesn’t have a long list of benefits. One happens to be removing lactic acid from your muscles, the very cause of the soreness. It has been scientifically proven to do this better than water. It also helps remove inflammation. I started juicing it in the blender, and I’ve been drinking about 40 ounces a day.

This is how your insight can work for you. This is why I’m still thankful for the voices in my past who reminded me to “look inward” and “be gentle with yourself.” When you want answers, it is so freaking annoying to hear, and yet it is the best advice. We have the power, the inner-guidance. We don’t always believe it. We think we aren’t as good as or as smart as or as open as. We have it though. It’s all there.

Notice that your intuition raises your awareness. In fact, you will notice all of the people who might benefit from your insight. Don’t. I repeat, do not become the obnoxious intuitive who wants to fix everyone. It’s hard, because you get so excited. I get so curious. What if I could help! What if I could do it! At this point, I’m pretty much riding ego bare-back. I force myself to chill. We will all connect with the right souls. We will all share what is meant to be shared.

Drop the Beet Now

IMG_3812Only a week ago, I would have told you that beets taste like dirt. That Facebook group run by my friend Pallavi now has a sister:Food4Soul. Her post on Beetroot Halwa got me thinking about how much I hate beets. I saw them and found their color seductive, but then their taste arrived on my tongue. Remember my tongue, the one energetically connected to the genitals energetically? ENERGETICALLY. Well, that tongue now had the energetic taste of a spoonful of potting soil sitting on it. No, no. Never. Oh, but they are so pretty. They are a food supporting the root chakra, and they have all sorts of health benefits. Everywhere I went there were beet references.

I bought the beets and set them on the counter. I also bought a bottle of beet juice and decided I’d sneak it into smoothies. I could trick myself into ingesting it. Here’s what I did. Pallavi encouraged me to try Cardamom for the first time. It was mostly out of shame. I felt like I owed it to the spice for having mispronounced it my entire life. I gathered friendly allies, ( strawberries, pineapple, coconut milk ), and said: You have to stand by me. You have to coat my entire tongue. Yes, I know it is energetically connected to my Ladytown. Shut it down, pineapple. This beet shit is serious. Coat my entire digestive tract so the beet slides through me like a giant water slide. Make a carpet of awesome taste to distract me. Deal, fruit loops?

Smoothie Recipe

3 or 4 strawberries

1 or 2 clementines

box (size of small juice box) of coconut milk

1/2 round to full round of pineapple

1/4 teaspoon of cardamom

8 ounces of beet juice

I tasted the beet.

I tasted it, but my allies cornered it. They made it less filthy, and they twirled it onto the dance floor. The smoothie was so good that I brought it to work, and I gave some to my friends. They thought it was delicious, and one of them is totally against lying. ; )

Today, I got out the grater. Would you look at this. I mean, seriously. IMG_3813 Beets make me want to sing Christopher Cross’s Lady in Red. Ok, no they don’t, but they are nature’s art. Grating them gets your hands all purple, and the smell gives the same satisfaction as planting in the garden. It is easy to see why people use it in artistic endeavors. Imagine its hue on handmade paper?

I melted some butter in my pan and let the beets cook a few minutes. I wasn’t quite sure how long to cook them, but they reminded me of hash brown potatoes – except sweeter. I didn’t do all of Pallavi’s recipe. My husband is diabetic, and I wanted to experiment with less sugar. A dash of cardamom, and that was it.

I liked them. Now to explore the possibilities.

So, I ask you: What is your diet missing?