Lines on My Face

I teach piano and voice to several boys who are on the autism spectrum.  At Halloween they all noticed the mat that said “wipe your witchy feet” and took it literally.  Their way of telling it like it is thrills me, especially since my mother’s side has a bunch of men on the autism spectrum.  But last week I had my most favorite moment with a 6 year old.

“WHAT are all those LINES on your face?”  he asked, with his face about 5 inches from mine.

I took out my lipstick mirror and looked.  Maybe I had some chocolate smeared on my face from lunch.  I saw my same face, nothing tricky.  I tried to see it from his perspective.

“Oh, you mean those lines down the side of my mouth?”

“YES,” he hollered, all concerned.

“It’s lines from old age.  You will get them too when you get old.” He turned happily back to his music.

Unlike a lot of women, I am not bothered by the lines on my face.  Before I had them, I did not have the wisdom I have today.  The young me spoke too rashly and got angry too often.  The old me can help people with their decisions and angst and know that I will not steer them wrong.

Out of the mouth of babes is a fabulous saying.  Here are two more. 

Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.   Chili Davis

Do not regret growing older.  It is a privilege denied to many.   Anonymous

Psychic Readings and Tears of Change

A few weeks ago a beautiful woman came for a reading and kept crying.  I felt helpless.  I was tempted to ease her pain and tell her what she wanted to hear, but I HAD to tell her what I knew to be true, which was actually something better for her.  She just needed time and healing to experience the changes and make her way towards a new kind of life.

It’s difficult to change a perception.  I give speeches at colleges, clubs and women’s expos, and after my last speech a woman told me emphatically, “Do not say everyone can do it, because I can’t and they can’t.”

I do believe everyone is intuitive, but I think she meant not everyone can help police on murder cases nor see the future clearly for others.  When I was young, I thought my psychic ability was imagination, like other kids had pretend friends.  I saw through walls into houses and lives and thought it was hope.  Back then I figured I was imagining scenarios and conversations.  Any special powers I had were flights of fancy.  Now I accept my abilities. 

People often tell me they wish they had my gift.  If I had my druthers, instead I would have wanted my baby son’s blond curls or my daughter’s good directional sense, his quiet calm or her strength, his engineering mind or her analytical brain.  Yet I am content. 

Fall brings winds of change.  I wish everyone the best kind of autumn changes followed by a winter of content. 

Lacking Intuition

My trip to Norway was a group bus tour, my first.  I worried whether anyone would like me.  During the first two days I was sure I was disliked.  I felt awkward picking a spot to eat with the others and I worried whether I talked too much or too little.  I felt odd sitting alone on the bus.  I couldn’t remember names.

I should have honed my intuition.  I should have seen that they were being respectful and careful.  Some felt a bit isolated and some wanted to be left alone.  One couple acted like they were on a honeymoon and for another, it was their first trip out of the USA.

Bonding happened slowly.  I asked people to go for walks and I was rejected.  I tried to respond to openings.  I treaded carefully and only acted wacky when I could no longer avoid it.  I tempered my outrageousness.  By midweek I found friends.  Close and brief friends.  Smart friends and bewildered friends.  Friends who ate platefuls of fish for breakfast and sat in the hold of the ferry instead of out in the breeze. 

After our farewell dinner I had to leave for a 3:15 wake-up call.  I went around the big table and touched each person.  Several hugged me.  Some looked tearful.  I felt warmth from all of them and a deep sadness mixed with happiness at our time together. 

Oh me oh my.  I rush too much.  I expect too much.  Disappointment in others can flood me.  But I get surprised.  In Norway, I was surprised with love.

Spiritual Experience in Norway

I used to tell people to see Hawaii before they die, now I say visit Norway.  The country is so clean that I felt as if a Disney crew had travelled right ahead of me.  Pristine water, no litter, clean bathrooms and restaurants and polite fresh faced Norwegians who all spoke English.

My top favorites were the waterfalls, fjords and my experiences at the fantastic Alexandra Hotel in Loen.  I could gush on and on about the hotel swimming pools, the majestic mountain view, the incredible food, or playing a Petrof grand piano in the lounge, but the best part came from The Voice.  I feel sort of crazy talking about it, but I have always heard what I call a psychic voice.  The voice is male and sort of booms with strength.  After my swim and a shower at the Alexandra Hotel, I watched BBC in my room.  I was just not ready to join the lovely group of tour friends I saw on the bus every day.

 

The Voice boomed at me.  Go downstairs at 6:30 and you will have a spiritual experience, it said.

Even after all these years of knowing I should pay attention, I ignored it.  The Voice repeated the instructions so off I went.

A man in a monk’s robe strolled into the lounge, followed by 28 boys in like garb.  They sang a requiem like angels in three part harmony.  The tears rolled down my cheeks.  My heart oozed happy.  My life felt complete.  The music was as beautiful as the children. 

Maybe you don’t hear The Voice, but I know you can seek out music and children.  Both will inspire a spiritual experience.

Intuitive Connections with Children

In addition to my psychic work, I teach voice and piano to children and adults.  The adults are fun because most of them learn quickly and satisfaction comes from their success.  Even more than adults, I like to teach children since intuitively I feel more of a connection.  I love their naïve ways and their total acceptance of my foibles. 

Two young neighbor children came into my basement the other day to help me tear down cardboard boxes to lay them flat.  The boy wanted to know why we needed to do the job and forgot his $2 when he left.  The girl and I talked about our interests and gave each other nicknames.  She kept trying to give back her $2.  I wanted to bribe their mom to let them stay all weekend, but she's divorced so I know her heart hurts at how little time she has with them.  Her children reminded me that I must not shut down.

To be intuitive, keep an open mind and an accepting heart.  Use your intuition like a key that leads you through the door to another person's life and soul.  Don't close up.  Don't hide.  Let your heart soar. 

  

Bad Guy or Helpful Guy?

My tarot cards had the erupting Tower in the center.  I knew something would happen and that I needed to be cautious.  A few miles from my home I waited for a red light next to a handsome young man in a car parallel to mine.  He smiled, I checked my phone.  Then he looked concerned and pointed to the back of my car.  I rolled my window down just a bit.

"Your tire is flat."  Odd, I thought.  I just got new tires and had a warranty so I hoped I could make it a few miles to work.  The man's young daughter ran around his front seat and wasn't strapped in.  He noticed my lack of response. 

"You are riding on the rim.  You need to pull over!" he said, seemingly concerned. 

My intuitive voice said "turn and get away".  I turned into a residential area and stopped when I saw two dogs that would be sure to bark, but he had not followed me.  I walked around the car to see....no flat tire.

I believe this was a bad guy who wanted to steal my purse, jewelry and phone.  Had I rolled my window down all the way it wouldn't have taken but a second to grab my purse on the seat.  Had I pulled over to look at the tire, I would have been even more vulnerable.  I notified the local police and wished I had noted his license, but at that point I was too confused by conflicting information. 

People are generally good, but bad guys abound.  Keep your antennae up.  Stay intuitive.  Trust your instincts.  Trusting mine saved me both money and heartache.  

Fly the Nest

My youngest child finished college and a week ago he packed his car to leave for Boston and his new job.  For 10 days before he left I made glorious brunches and relished our last extended time together.  We shared 22 years of wonder and hard work.

As he checked his room one last time I could feel his happiness pulse.  Instead of giant sobs, I wore Mardi Gras necklaces, blew New Year's noisemakers and toasted him with cacophony.  My prize was a grin as wide as his face.

Today two baby birds nest on my front porch.  One of their siblings flapped its wings and ended up on the grass yesterday.  I see their struggles as they fly the nest and I watch their momma's gentle nudges to get them to go.  As I see them change, I find peace in the acceptance that my son and I will too. 

I love change but this one makes me feel as if I were riding a roller coaster...the highest tallest coaster.  I could curl up and howl, but crying makes wrinkles.  Instead I will celebrate this intense freedom after 30 years of parenting. 

My mini words of wisdom are to pay attention to changes, try not to fight and embrace. 

What is Alive?

Yesterday when I taught piano and voice lessons I wore a pink coral necklace my mom left me.  A nine year old girl loved it.  I explained that I felt badly because coral is so slow to replenish, and that my mom had bought it in the 1960's when many people had the mistaken belief that we could reap and not sew. 

The little girl played Yankee Doodle and then looked at me and said, "It's alive right?"

"Yes, it's like a tree," I told her.  "It's alive and takes a long time to grow and it's in the ocean.  Not a fish with a shell though, no eyeballs."
We had a laugh and I worried about the info I had given her.  I wanted to run to the library and research coral, but that's a weekend endeavor.  What sticks with me is her question, "It's alive, right?"

When I wear the necklace my deceased mom is alive, right there around my neck.  I hear her unusual low voice that sounded so much like my grandmother Helen's.  I hear her tell me how nice it looks with my pink sweater (that sweater is orange, but who knows since she and I both have color challenge issues?).

I don't want to dwell on dead people, but so many tarot reading clients want to talk about people who have died, passed on, passed through.  Since I turned 62 and get closer to my demise, I live in that ponder zone more often. 

This is what I see with my real eye instead of my mind's eye.  Bluebells burst on the side of my house.  That is life.  My grown children's young skin.  That is life.  My ability to hear my friend's voice on the phone.  That is life, which has to equal optimism. 

Janus and Janice

My mom named me Janice Helen McGee.  I never liked my first name.  My middle name belonged to my favorite grandmother, so that was cool.  My last name changed with a radio DJ gig and husbands.  Now I use my maiden name McGee, but it has a bumpy sound. 

In the 90's I told my mom I was going to change my first name.  She had a fit and made me promise not to do it until she was dead.  When she did die, I pondered over the name I wanted.  The hassle made me lose interest, but I still disliked Jan.  Then during a piano lesson, a 10 year old boy changed my perspective. 

"You're real name is Janice?  You are lucky!" he said with a big smile.  "Janus is the ancient god of doorways and has one head and two faces that look in opposite directions.  One can see the past and one can see the future.  They both see the present."

Instantly I loved my name.  My intuitive gifts have dogged me all my life, yet now I know my name is perfect.  My psychic abilities include time travel to the past and the future.  My intellect sees the present.

But stupid me for not understanding, and thanks Mom! You had the right idea when you named me Janice/Janus.

Court

My sister and our lawyer and I went to court last week to settle our mother's estate.  We heard intimate facts about the car accident that killed her from the officer on the scene and the truck driver witness.  My stepfather caused the accident, which made it all the more unbearable.  It was a terribly sad afternoon for all of us.  Since I am a receiver and openly emotional, I cried most of the hearing.  What surprised me was the bailiff approaching me with a box of tissues and the personal accident story the judge told us.  The judge's final comment got stuck in my brain. 

"Do not let this define you," he said.

For the last 16 months it has both defined me and altered me, yet I know I must find optimism.  Instead of letting this peach rot, I should slice it and eat it now. 

My life seems quieter since Mom's death but my desire for solitude heightened my intuition.  I believe intuition is a way to not feel alone.  When I pay attention to other people's feelings and let emotions into my life, a connection results.  Connections can feel like love, even when they come from strangers. 

I will not become jaded or let anger linger.  My open heart will precede me. 

May you find a way to keep your heart open through pain.