Walk Into The Dark. A Mediums Insight On Life After Death

As I stood there in nothing I became aware of everything. I knew without any doubt at all that I was not standing there alone but was surrounded by something…anything…I had no idea what and it didn’t matter at all. I felt no fear of whatever or whomever shared this space with me, I felt only a gentle swell of something I could not quite put a name to. It did not grow in intensity, nor did it diminish. It simply was. I was immersed in “is” and if that noun could be described in feels I can only describe it as smelling a baby’s skin after a bath. It held no grandiosity in its depth, yet provided an understanding of love that transcends all we have been taught here in this physical world.

My journey into the work that I have directed to do began right here.

I often find myself wandering about in the dark. And not just any kind of dark either. The pitch of the blackness is astounding. It is as if nothing exists and all exists within the same space. I haven’t yet fully determined if this is a physical manifestation that I am wandering around in, or a soul travel moment interrupted by my own sub conscious because I had that last coffee at 10 pm. While I am moving in this space it seems predominantly real as I graze my fingertips along walls seeking the light switch that I KNOW was there before I drifted off to sleep.

I am never fearful during these times which in retrospect presents a true dichotomy given my absolute distaste of all things dark and in terror of ever going blind. All that I know for certain is that despite being enveloped in absolute nothingness I am fully aware that I will find the light if I am just patient.

Now, throw me into a darkened basement in my waking hours and listen as holy hell erupts as I screech and scratch at the door begging for release. Yet, place me here in my sleep hours and I am perfectly content to wait it out until I find the switch again. Weird isn’t it?

I have arrived at the conclusion however, that I most assuredly must be experiencing an out of body trip through the dark fantastic, because were I physically climbing out of bed to take this journey I would inevitably awaken to broken toes and bruises of questionable origin. I am the worlds most celebrated klutz who can walk into a wall even were it illuminated with a miners light.

Oddly. during these blindfolded sojourns I seem to know my way around without fear of harm.  My natural instinct is to search for light, yet my emotional response is of safety and warmth. I stub my toes on nothing, I wander without any injury to my personal self. It is as if all obstacles are removed to assist me forward without discomfort.

Some years back, during my meditative phase where I was making attempts at relinquishing the need for control, I would find myself seated in a chair, feet flat to the floor, hands upturned into submission and eyes closed. I always had a candle burning close by because the entire time I was working at disconnection, I had to be assured that should I open my eyes that I would find light of some kind nearby. The thought of opening my eyes to complete darkness horrified me and I could never understand why. I still, to this day, will drive any eyelash technician to drink with my constant need to open my eyes in case they have somehow blinded me with their super glue. I’m a freak and happily accept that. Apologies however to the tireless efforts of these pursuers of beauty who have to literally tape my lids to my cheek to keep me in check while they fill my lash line with feathers.

But I digress.

It was during these meditative attempts where I learned something incredible. Mind boggling in fact, when you consider how darkness is portrayed in our human existence. One only has to look to the culture of fear to find the dark as a sinister and cruel environment. It’s no small wonder to me that we have created a belief that death of the physical body creates a passage of brilliant light with which to follow into our version of Heaven.

“I am the Light” John 8:12

We can be confused by biblical passages such as this one because it teaches us that only in light do we find love. Not to take away from the system of belief for anyone reading this, but from the value of what I have been shown, there is a space in the middle that we must all move through first before we are ready to accept love in its purest of forms.

Its called “The Dark”

As I sat in my quiet space, my candle burning to my left, I continuously found myself pulled into a strange darkness. It was right here, at that precipice exactly where my need to control the situation would trump my desire to sate my curiosity about what was beyond that next step.  My heart would flutter, my hands would reach for the chair arms in a flailing, falling type of panic and I would find myself once again safely ensconced in my room with my candle flame flickering shadows onto the walls.

Eyes wide open.

Phew. I escaped that time! I’m not sure where my Guides were planning on taking me but I got away. Yay me! I win.

I was drifting off one night propped up in my recliner. I wasn’t looking to find a meditative place, I was simply bored with the movie and rested my head back.  As I slowly shifted into a another time and space, I heard a voice within my own mind.

“Just slip into the darkness. Nice and easy, slip into the darkness” It was odd this time because I seemed to have found a meditation that wasn’t intended at all, and for the first time I was following the  urge to step over. I placed one toe in.

As my foot released the light behind me, I found myself calming. I found my heart fill with the most curious sense of laughter followed by what felt like warm sunshine as it moved over my skin.

“Keep coming” the voice urged. “Everything you need to understand is found in the dark”

And off I went…

This became a collection of moments that changed my entire life.

As I stood there in nothing I became aware of everything. I knew without any doubt at all that I was not standing there alone but was surrounded by something…anything…I had no idea what and it didn’t matter at all. I felt no fear of whatever or whomever shared this space with me, I felt only a gentle swell of something I could not quite put a name to. It did not grow in intensity, nor did it diminish. It simply was. I was immersed in “is” and if that noun could be described in feels I can only describe it as smelling a baby’s skin after a bath. It held no grandiosity in its depth, yet provided an understanding of love that transcends all we have been taught here in this physical world.

I had no care to attempt to ascertain from where this understanding was coming. It truly didn’t matter at all.

And that is the reason for the dark.

Love cannot be trusted with eyes that can see. Love will be questioned based on what we have learned, prejudice we have discovered and scriptures we have allowed to become boundaries and battle lines. Love does not exist in pretty and in ugly. Love does not live in baubles and gifts.

Love…quite simply….exists in a place from which we have no understanding of where it arrives from.

Love lives in the dark in the middle. At the edges of death and the edges of life exists the space where we cannot control from where, from whom, or for why it exists.

We must stand in the darkness for in the darkness we cannot judge from where we receive love. We cannot decide if we want that love or wish to return it. Because we cannot see who or what we are loving we become part of this exchange of beauty that exceeds any and all experiences that this physical lifetime has afforded for you.

Love can only truly be understood in the pitch of nothing because in nothing we are offered nothing to do but to trust.

And from there you will find yourself directed into the light of what we call Heaven.

They  leave this part out in near death experience because they know our fear of the dark. I believe its time you all know the truth.

Don’t be afraid of the dark.

Enjoy the journey.

 

Tania xoxo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2018. The Resolution to Live

‘He would just nod his head as I chattered about my plans for domination of a life long battle with Cheesies, as I’d grab a bag of shrunken parsnips sea salted and baked to provide the illusion that I was eating something more appealing than parsnips.. sea salted and baked’

I just got tired of buying gram weight scales and mini carbohydrate counting books. You remember those books? Each New Years week they would miraculously appear at the checkout of ever grocery store across the land. And every year I would buy one to complement my cart full of good intentions. I would drag my husband through the aisles, carefully reading each box flap to ensure that this would meet my dietary allowances as I moved into my resolution for yet another year. He would just nod his head as I chattered about my plans for domination of a life long battle with Cheesies, as I’d grab a bag of shrunken parsnips sea salted and baked to provide the illusion that I was eating something more appealing than parsnips.. sea salted and baked.

And every single New Years morning I would wake to a momentary sensation of victory only to be followed by the shocking realization that I wasn’t getting Captain Crunch for breakfast anymore. I’d stumble out to the kitchen, pour a cup of coffee and the demise would begin in that moment. Skim milk on top of my coffee. Ughh. Nothing in life is less appealing than coffee that resembles something one might find floating in the top of the shower drain.

I’d promise the skim that I’d try again tomorrow and coddle the carton of cream from yesteryear. I’d wander to the living room where my husband would inevitably find me. He’d cock his head to one side and raise his eyebrows as I would quickly attempt to hide the shortbread that I found on my journey to the couch.  With crumbs trailing across my lips like evidence at a crime scene, I would quickly admonish him for his obvious lack of support because he neglected to clear the area of all temptation on December 31st.

One week later he would call out from the kitchen that something in the fridge was attempting escape.
“There’s something in here trying to get out!” he would yell. On closer inspection I would recognize the two heads of lettuce and the fresh spinach that were now oozing into the other like some alien science experiment in effective cohabitation.

I Have Learned Better

Sometimes we are intended to lean to the cookie jar and savor some sweetness. It’s in understanding this that we can be OK with this.

I’d like to thank all those on the spirit side for teaching me some very important lessons. My hand over heart for helping me to understand that schedules are not formed by us but created for us to get the most of this journey we have chosen.

I’ve learned many things along the way. Most importantly I have learned that life can’t be planned. If I have taken one thing from my work it is that life can only be lived.

Life doesn’t really care what you schedule for it. Life only intends to allow you to experience what it can provide for you in each moment and that includes the kale and the cheesecake. That includes the failures and the victories. It includes the delights of stolen kisses and the regrets of what if’s.

Here are some “resolutions” we can all stick to.

To breath each morning and be grateful.

To love ourselves enough to accept that we are worthy of all love we receive.

To allow ourselves the failures and to be proud of our accomplishments.

To allow others their missteps without condemnation and judgement.

To live authentically whether we choose a good health day or a slide day.

To not allow anyone else to take away from the choice we make.

To eat the ice cream. To pour copious amounts of chocolate sauce on top. To ignore the looks of those who think they know better for you and what you need in this moment of your life.

To experience profound joy.

To experience profound grief.

To live. To breath. To laugh. To cry.

To hurt. To heal. To anger and to smile.

To breath. Each moment we are given.

To experience.

Everything.

Once.

Even kale.

You won’t know what you missed if you spent your days weighing your life into grams and measurements, rights and wrongs, should I or shouldn’t I.

Just do what feels right in this moment.

Allowing the universe to flow…

And remember this…

The universe has a pocket full of curve balls. And those curve balls turn into last moments. And those moments turn into last memories.

Happy New Day 2018. All others beyond this day are not guaranteed. Live it fully.

And keep a jar of cookies beside the skim milk.

 

In love, in light, in shortbread and sugar cookies…

Tania

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tears Into Twinkles – Christmas In Heaven

“It’s a rule here in Heaven. Everyone except us kids collect tears from people who love them. And then they bring them here and decorate our Christmas tree!! We have the prettiest trees here, with better colors than a box of crayons!!”

I had stretched myself out this evening into my recliner. After a long weekend of sessions I simply wanted to escape into the low drone of the TV noise across the room and disconnect to a space where no one could reach me.

Leaning my head into the soft leather, I sighed deeply, shushed the dog chewing her toenails beside me, and took a big clean breath. How wonderful to have nothing to focus on in this moment…

I could feel the furrow on my forehead as I adjusted to the darkness beneath my closed lids and realized that I was not alone.

A small child was standing directly in front of me.No more than 8 years old she peered up at me with big hazel eyes and lips slightly opened revealing one missing tooth to the left of her front pair. Perfectly disheveled with braids that were releasing she looked as if she had just woken from an afternoon nap. I couldn’t help but want to know what she was doing here.

As I urged her to share she reached back behind her and brought forward a looping of twinkles.  There was no start and no finish, just a constant turn of color bursts that seemed to jump from one moment into the next. I had never seen anything quite this wonderful and I smiled asking her what this was.

“They turn tears into twinkles here” she replied softly.

“Oh do they now…” I countered back. “Please explain to me what you mean”

She curled her energy to the floor and sat down peering up at me.

“Here in Heaven, they use tears. They collect them from every human that cries because they miss someone that lives here with me. It doesn’t matter who you are crying about either. Some people cry about their dog. And every time they cry we have people here that collect those tears. They just wait until you cry enough and then they reach down and scoop them from your face”

I cocked my head a little trying to understand the direction of this conversation, while she twirled the twinkles between her fingers…

“It’s a rule here in Heaven. Everyone except us kids collect tears from people who love them. And then they bring them here and decorate our Christmas tree!! We have the prettiest trees here, with better colors than a box of crayons!!”

I stared down at her.

“But honey, with all the stars out there, why would you need tears to light the trees? Why would they collect someones sadness to decorate Heaven?”

She stood up. Lifted her loop of light and told me to look closely. I leaned in until my nose was close to her cheek…and I watched….

Each twinkle produced a story. I saw breakfast tables and swimming holes. I saw laughing faces and bike rides. I watched babies giggle and waves goodbye out of a car window. I saw toddlers weaving back and forth and tipping over to the floor. I saw new puppies, brides and grooms, grandmothers and grandfathers..graduations and weddings..birthday cakes and running hugs.

She tapped me on my forehead and asked me what this meant. I glanced into her wise little face and said “Its love honey…its the story of love”

A tear escaped my closed eyes…she reached up her little finger and scooped it…

And holding it out she showed me…

A mommy and daddy…hanging a frame on the tree…a picture of a little girl in crooked braids with one tooth missing…

“Tears are not sad. Tears are love with nothing to hug. So they collect it all and bring it here. To light up Christmas for all us kids who can’t go home”

She waved her arm and behind her the edges began to light. For as far as I could see magnificent waves of brilliance shot out from every corner. Hues completely unimaginable in this world lifted upward as if pulled by an artists brush…

“Just tell them please. Tell mommy and daddy that their tears hang on my tree”

OK little one….

I will.

I will.

 

What else can I add to this…

There’s nothing left to say.

Hanna said it all for me.

 

Tania. xxx

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Christmas Tree Called Liberace

My mother, bless her heart….she had this thing for the absolute thickest furriest and shiniest garland she could possibly locate and suffocate a tree with. Honest to goodness I swear she had a thing for Liberace and was living it out each Christmas.

I was sitting here tonight staring at the tree that still sits in the box on the floor. When I get a few hours of spare time I’ll pull it all out and stand looking at the branches wondering what in heavens name goes where. I’m grateful that my husband purchased a smaller version of our typical monstrosity. It’s four feet of promised “fullness” all stuffed into a carton the size of a shoe box, so we’ll see how this goes.
It kind of reminds me of the mattress we purchased a few years back. I believe it was simply called “Mattress in a Box”. If you’ve never witnessed the emergence of a king size mattress from a box the size of a laundry hamper…well….it is truly a mind boggling experience. Just don’t plan on returning it if you don’t like it. It’s NEVER going back in the box it came in.
I’m hoping the tree expands to something as spectacular.
Because God forbid…..
Garland….
I stood tonight in Wal Mart staring at the display of bright decorations and  colors…and reflected back to my early years..to our tree…
My mother, bless her heart….she had this thing for the absolute thickest furriest and shiniest garland she could possibly locate and suffocate a tree with. Honest to goodness I swear she had a thing for Liberace and was living it out each Christmas.
I don’t think she outgrew this until after the kids left home. Sometimes I wonder if there was ever a tree under it all in the first place or if she had simply encircled a lamp and popped gifts underneath.
She’ll read this. And she’ll laugh and move a piece out of my side of the china cabinet. It’s not enough that I complain every single year about her trying to force feed me trifle. Now, I’m onto the Tree Called Liberace.
liberace-yahoomusic
Yet….this is what Christmas is about. Memories that make you roll your eyes or blow egg nog  through your nostrils in laughter. It’s all the traditions you don’t adopt yet you will never forget. It’s all the stuff that the generations to come won’t know of…and it’s our job to tell them the stories.
I know for a fact that my kids one day will tell stories of me dancing about like the fairy godmother with tinsel as my wand….my intention to make the tree appear to sparkle at the branch tips…to be colorful as daintily as possible…yet it always inevitably wound up looking a bit like a llama trapped in a hurricane.
I think I’ll try spray paint this year….
Just on the tips…
The grand-kids will love this….
In love…in light….in old memories and in new…
Tania the tinsel fairy.

Grieving Through The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

“You’re not unique you know”

My first response was fairly vehement let me tell you. Forgive me but my walls went up high as I muttered under my breath

“F*ck you..I’m not unique. I can stand there straight faced while someone goes to a million pieces in front of me and casually hand them a tissue”

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year
With the kids jingle belling
And everyone telling you be of good cheer
It’s the most wonderful time of the year
It’s the hap-happiest season of all
With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings
When friends come to call
It’s the hap-happiest season of all”

Andy Williams

 

My husband and I walked through the doors of a local grocery store just the other day. He stopped and he pointed out the mini live trees that were standing there and suggested that one of these might be perfect.

I stood there a moment and stared at the little branches before shaking my head and responding…

“We’ll wait til next week. We’ve always waited til after the kids birthdays”

It was a great ploy to pull him away from his inevitable trek through the store with his prized little tree over his shoulder.

I just wasn’t prepared at that moment.

We have two kids in the family with birthdays this month. One is our eldest Megan who celebrates hers tomorrow on December 11th. The other is the youngest son Sam who celebrates his on the 15th.

On December 8th our youngest kissed his ridiculously weepy mum goodbye at the airport to return to live in Edmonton after coming back home for a year. Out of the three of our kids, Sam is the one most like me. A wanderer, a seeker, a “leaver”; he reminded me that I should understand him because we are the same.

The words of my parents rang in my ears..

“Do as I say. Not as I do”

I wanted to tell him he couldn’t go. Pull the mum card out and ground him. He pulled this same stunt on me three years back when he left just a week before Christmas. It’s becoming his holiday theme.

Our grocery excursion took place later that day after I peeled myself off the glass watching him move through customs…his cat Juliette attached to his shoulder as they examined the carrier, he turned and half waved at me laughing at my nose pressed on the glass…

And I just wasn’t ready…

I don’t want the stupid tree right now.

But I will soon. I’ll go out and scoop one up and promise to make its sad little branches perk up. I’ll put it high on a table to make it look less Charlie Brown like and to save it from the jaws of our insane new puppy.  Yes I will.

It’s been an incredibly insightful year and a bit for me. A year that began with a loss of a cousin that almost took me down. I was absolutely shocked at how I responded. Sat for hours berating myself for grieving so hard when I knew better.

It’s a year of experiences that have brought me to places in my own heart and soul that I feared to adventure to before.  The same places that you go. My clients, my friends and my family. The places that I have always tried to heal for you, I was now being asked to heal for myself.

It’s changed me in the most extraordinary of ways.

I’ve learned what it feels like to accept that I am worthy of love. And in that I have learned how painful it is to let that go.

And in that I have learned to grieve.  To understand the process that I have tried to walk so many through on their own experiences.

And it’s changed me.

I have learned that forgiveness doesn’t mean allowing but that forgiveness means releasing yourself enough to accept your own beauty.

But most of all. I’ve learned this…

I’ve learned how to be softer, to be gentler, to understand more of what creates the discomforts of those that reach out to me.  I have learned that I can’t fix your pain, but I can commiserate and do my best to bring you through to a place where you feel comfortable if only for a moment.

I have learned that hurt arises from so many places. Not just from physical loss but from loss of career, loss of friendship, loss of warm places to land…

I have learned to listen harder, to understand the reason behind your frustrations and to not try to push you out of it with humor but to allow you to wet your face through your tears.

I have learned to grieve.

I was angry about this. I was not prepared to feel what I thought I had already experienced. I’ve watched a hundred patients die over the years. I had learned to be tough so that you had someone to fall into when your knees buckled.

I was explaining this to a friend recently how annoyed I was that I was feeling things at all. How in heavens name could I do what I do if I felt it so deeply?

That’s like a surgeon developing a sudden fear of blood. What use is that?

I told her how she couldn’t possibly understand how it feels to feel so deeply and to want to wrestle it down and bury it.

Her response rattled the chains that I had used to keep it from breaking free.

“You’re not unique you know”

My first response was fairly vehement let me tell you. Forgive me but my walls went up high as I muttered under my breath

“F*ck you..I’m not unique. I can stand there straight faced while someone goes to a million pieces in front of me and casually hand them a tissue”

I learned how to be unique a long time ago….so bite me. Uh huh.

I’ve had time to dwell on that.

And….

I’m not unique..

I have allowed the sting of loss to finally reach my skin surface.

And now I get it. Like I never got it before.

Now I understand you better than ever before. Now I’ll encourage you to get that tree but I will take your hand and tell you I understand if you don’t.

Now I will not be so cautious in revealing that I understand your discomforts. It started not so long ago now, my sudden wading out into the audience to bring myself closer to you. My sudden need to touch your knees. To get down close and to find your eyes through your tears.

To understand all the years that you pasted a smile and hid what hurt until that moment where I ( with your loved ones help) said the words that broke the dam.

I can now hand you a tissue and honestly say…

I get it.

I don’t want a tree either.

But….

Let’s get one just the same.

OK?

Let’s do this wonderful time of the year together.

But if you can’t…

I understand.

I am looking forward to moving forward. To revealing my real self instead of pulling my shoulders back to brace.  To handing a tissue to you and to taking one out for myself.

This will be incredible.

I am grateful to be not unique.

Have yourselves a Merry little Christmas.

 

In love. In light.

Tania xo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Psychic, A Skeptic and a Unicorn…

“And lets not even get me started on those who have somehow glued a glittery third eye into the middle of their foreheads. Like really people…the drama…good God.We’re not calling forward the mother ship here. We’re engaging in a conversation to provide direction or more importantly engaging a deceased loved one to step forward to provide comfort”

I’ve been perusing some You Tube Videos today, and it’s been eye-opening to say the least.

We’ve got psychics with enough candle smoke drifting on-screen to convince anyone that Aunt Martha just floated through, psychics with poorly stuffed  ravens perched behind them and some with flashing lights that I am certain are intended as a distraction from the fact that they didn’t even bother to brush their hair for the taping. And lets not even get me started on those who have somehow glued a glittery third eye into the middle of their foreheads. Like really people…the drama…good God.  We’re not calling forward the mother ship here. We’re engaging in a conversation to provide direction or more importantly engaging a deceased loved one to step forward to provide comfort. You don’t honestly believe that an ornament glued to your forehead is the way to go do you?  It’s ridiculous and truly it makes me want to book a session simply for the joy of making my own “squeeze the third eye out of the forehead” video. We all love those videos. Come on admit it. Dermachakratology 101.

Further on along on the page, the skeptic videos, which is no surprise at all given the content of what I have just watched previously.  If their oooompahpah and head spinning theatrics did nothing else….they caught the attention of all those whose life work is to denounce those of us attempting to bring some respect to the services we are providing.

I watched one video where three people were pouncing on one medium who looked absolutely uncomfortable with the rapid fire questions. Kudos to her for having the balls to agree to this, but along with those balls a spine must have been grown to withstand the assaults of those seated looking at you like they wish to string you up and set you ablaze for your sins. I found myself becoming very frustrated with her as she stumbled around trying to find an excuse for why she was unwilling to do a reading right there on the set. And I understand where that may come from. Seated with three hard-nosed skeptics all waiting for you to screw up is intimidating to be sure. I get it.

But..get over it. And get over it quickly. Or simply excuse yourself from the space and save some fragment of what dignity they are already stuffing into their pockets.

I’ve driven this home a million times or more. If you don’t TRUST what you are putting out there then put down the crystal ball please. Just let it go. Move aside, go home for a few years, tough it out and grow a spine before you attempt to take on the witch hunters. There is nothing more unsightly than watching you squirm as the fire is set under your backside.

Skeptics are a necessity in my work. Just as in all life, everything requires a balance. I encourage a healthy dose of it in all life choices you make.

If your intention is to invite a conversation with a skeptic you need to know two very important things.

A: Skeptics aren’t overly serious about debunking you at all. Skeptics actually ARE looking for proof, and if your spine is powerful enough you CAN provide that. But instead, your inability to trust your own self enough to make that happen shines through clearly in your fidgeting and your deer in the headlights glaze.Oh and your butt is smoldering.

If THIS is what you claim to do. Do it. Head on. Stop providing them with exactly what they discussed before you arrived, because let me assure you, they swaddled together like school bullies and devised a way to find your weak spots.

B: Grow that spine strong and flexible only on your command and not on the command of those that wish to break you.

If you cannot look a family member or a friend in the face and be truthful about who you are and what you do then you need to take a step back before considering going head to head with the court of disapproval.

You can only grow that spine by recognizing what makes it go weak. Find those insecure spaces and focus on bringing them back into line.

Put yourself in uncomfortable conversations and hold your ground tight. You don’t have to disagree with their opinions but neither do you have to disallow your own. Stand in it and claim it.

One of my favorite things is discovering the one skeptic seated in a room full of people. You will never see me pass them by. I will always make it a point to engage them. My thought process is that they clearly paid for something and are just as eager for confirmation as everyone else who came in with a heart full of believing.

And they might argue me. I don’t care. They may attempt to trip me up but I’m seasoned and much more skilled at catching them in that game for that to happen.

My spine won’t weaken under their eyes.

I cut my vertebrae on people like them. In fact, most of them are hurting more than the rest of the people in the room and simply need that absolute proof to take away some of that pain they have dragged around for decades.

And they rarely to never “take” the message. Not until the room is cleared and they can corner me and quietly tell me that I may have changed their thoughts a tweak. It happens every single time. It’s not a boastful thing on my part either, but a sad truth about some of our most vulnerable seekers who need to feed on the belief that love cannot exist beyond our edges. What an awful way to have to live.

I’m waiting patiently for the day that a room full of skeptics decide to challenge me on my own truth.  I don’t give a rats ass about your million dollar prize. I only care about what hurt you along the way that makes you want to hurt us. Its so damn simple isn’t it. Keep your money, give it to charity. And come here…give me a hug…you need a hug. Perhaps followed by a swift kick in in the arse by your mother whose been trying to get your attention since 1978.

But in keeping with your expectation for me….

I might even find a purple unicorn horn to affix to my forehead for dramatic effect. “Just hold while I scan the room for life signs with my magic people finder”

 

Keep it real folks. Grow your spine on your truth. They can’t take that from you.

Have you hugged your skeptic today?

In love, in light, in oodles of laughter…..

 

Tania

 

 

 

 

“Perhaps Love”

“And even if you lose yourself and don’t know what to do, the memory of love will see you through”
Perhaps Love : John Denver

I’ve spent this past few days reconnecting to my “people” for want of a better term.
I half hoped for them to be somewhat prepared to give me something incredibly insightful on which I could grow. The first night was not quite what I expected as I was woken to someone shaking my shoulder and expressing ( far too loudly I might add) “Thanks for checking back in!!” In my half conscious state my response was something to the effect of “You didn’t seriously just wake me up for that?” before I rolled away and drifted back to sleep. However, I woke feeling good knowing that at least they were still talking to me given that I hadn’t even attempted to “pencil” them into my schedule this last uhhh…well, that’s beside the point.
So last night as I closed my eyes I thanked them for still being here and asked for something bigger, something better for which to break up my night. If you must waken me provoke me to want to think.
I woke to one simple request. No shoulder shaking, no fanfare, just the words…
“Let’s talk about what love really is”
I sat up and snort laughed a little. Calmly resisted the urge to smother the snoring someone beside me. That’s love right? And then got up to pee. Sitting there in the bathroom at 4 am staring at the toilet paper roll that someone put on upside down…and thought…this is love. Not freaking out because its rolling from bottom and not the top. If you love me you’ll put the paper on the right way.
This was gonna be a walk in the park.
I got this. Pffft.
Climbed back under the sheet and turned over. And heard a giggle. Followed by…
“You think so do ya?”
I rolled my eyes, stretched my legs out and sighed…
“I do this for a living. I know so”
Plus I watched Titanic last night. Jack froze to death for Rose even though they could clearly both fit on whatever that was she was floating on. Hell, they could have fit four people on there arranged properly.  That’s love. It’s stupid love but it’s love. Right?
God I’m funny.
I woke at 7 am. Grabbed the first of my six bowls of coffee and flipped open the laptop. I stared at it for two hours before I found myself wandering google looking for everyone else’s idea of love. By now, on my fourth bowl of caffeine I am agitated and growing frustrated by the second.
“It’s a feeling, it’s a touch, it’s a puppy, a new baby, an awakening, new shoes, a hug, a kind word, an ear that listens, a heart that shares. It’s flowers and chocolates, small unexpected gifts”.  Sigh. Love is exactly what we’ve been taught to believe it is.
As I sat here staring into the eyes of the puppy that just chewed up my phone ( but I love him cause he’s a puppy of course) I was prompted by the voice once again…
“You’ve just proved point one, that we accept what you have been led to believe as love. So now focus on what love is not”
Oh for the love of all things holy. This wasn’t supposed to take up half my day.
“Are you uncomfortable asking yourself what love is not?”
Mic drop.
Hold on. I’ll need another coffee for this part. Is Baileys too much you think? Too early in the day?
“It’s five o’clock somewhere”
Got it.
What love is not:
“Love is not looking for what love looks like”
Well that was simple.
But what does that mean?
We’ve learned that love must come with something palpable. That love must be felt in someway, be proven somehow, in order for that love to exist. How can we ever truly understand love if we spend our lives trying to both discover how we can show it or have it shown to us?
In believing that love must be shown, we take away from the very fundamental fact that we are love. As sweet at is is to receive small tokens, some trinket and as sour the emotion of jealously to determine its depth…I have to ask you…
Why?
Why do we consistently have to prove ourselves or seek out proof of something we should inherently know to be true.
And again…..the simple answer is….
Because we can see.
The problem here is that we were given eyes to see. Its unfortunate.
“Show me you love me”
“I’ll believe it when I see it”
“You don’t see me”
“I don’t see why”
“Roses are red”
“Show me you love me”
“Look at me”
We are inherently visual. What a shame.
Even as we move toward the transition that is known as death we are urged to look for the light.
“You’ll see a bright light”
In the case of near death experience
“I saw a bright light and then felt an overwhelming love”
Uh huh.
False. Completely and irrevocably false.
You cannot find the light until you stand in the dark first.
You do not know love until you don’t see from where it is coming.
There is a space between our lives. A stop over point so to say.  This is the place that I go to find your loved ones. The same place I go to find my “people”.  For me, it is the most incredible place I have ever not seen. It is darker than the dark that occurs when you close your eyes. It is darker than the moment your anesthetic drops you and leaves you to the mercy of that for which you cannot control. It is darker than blindness. It holds no space for imagination, for creativity, for any thought of how it should look. It has no “look” at all.  It is the point of which you have no choice but to release the need to see to believe. It is the point of where you understand that love has nothing to do with proof but only to do with trust.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it”
John 1:15
Yes, I just quoted the bible. Hold me up. I think I’ve had too many Baileys…
The light will come. But it is only in knowing that it exists that it will shine. Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean its not there.
For you, I go in, I collect the love that is there and only then can I move forward to light where they can show me the memories that you need, the gifts that they gave you, the flowers that you miss. Because it’s not enough for me to say “They love you, they simply love you” no….
You need proof. You need the color of the flowers….
It’s ok…. I get this…
I have eyes too…
We’re all human after all.
A message from Spirit:
“I know not your race yet I love you. I know not your scripture yet I love you. I know not your intention for me yet I love you. I know not your worth yet I love you. I know not your intelligence yet I love you. I know not your journey  yet I love you. I know not who you are yet I love you. I know not your judgements nor your prejudice yet I love you. Here together in this place where we can only trust I trust you because you stand in this space with me and trust me also, in that we find no choice. In that we have only love”
It would be an incredible gift should the world go dark for a week. Only there would we know love.
Only there would we know peace.
Until we remember…..until we arrive….
“And even if you lose yourself and don’t know what to do, the memory of love will see you through”
Don’t be afraid of the dark. You know it.
Tania