Hidden Core of Truth and Religion

For a decade, I’ve taught piano to a reserved, smart young man. He doesn’t talk much, but this week he quietly took advantage of all my offers of help and said, I have to write a paper on religion. I had told him to be interesting, intellectual, and emotional when he writes, but this time he wanted substance.

Religion is philosophy, I said, and each of us can pick what we think is right. As a psychic, I hear a voice that directs me, but I don’t know if it’s God, or aliens, or some other source. In a low voice he said, I know you have something unusual going on. I answered, that’s the key. We all are unusual. I don’t believe in hell, but I hope the people who want to go to heaven, get there. I align with those who search for truth and do good work.

I told him to examine everything and remember that it’s a wide-open topic. Do your research, study Gandhi, Buddha, the Pope, and anyone else you can think of. Be respectful of other people’s belief systems. Take what you want and leave the rest.

When I studied philosophy for my master’s degree, I learned from those in class that we each have a hidden core of truth. Don’t be daunted when yours is unique to you.  

Mom's Spirit

Every weekend I want to tell my mom something, then I remember she’s dead, and I get frustrated at how unfair that seems. Next, I laugh at how ludicrous I’m being, or think through what I would say to her if I could call her. We definitely wouldn’t talk about my psychic abilities, since my mom either ignored my gift or stared at me like I had three heads. She never asked a question or commented on things I told her, or made any reference to it. Was it the autism spectrum label I attribute to her? Her lack of interest confounds me. 

Mom was born one hundred years ago. I loved her dearly, but I’m not sure she knew who I was. She made me play outside when I wanted to read all day. As an adult, she told me over and over to get a real job. She did encourage me when it came to education and taught me to succeed where others might fail, and she loved my children dearly. She hid her fears, and it was only when my dad died that I saw how many things she was afraid to do on her own.

I will always talk to spirits, to friends and family who have died. I will stomp around, pissed off that they aren’t still here. Talking to spirits isn’t as fun as when they had bodies, but dead people do come to me in dreams, and that feels wonderful. I guess it’s the most I can hope for.

So You Got Fired?

I’ve been fired twice. The first time I was only twenty-five and it hit me hard. I knew I couldn’t work with United as a flight attendant for too long, since it wasn’t intellectually stimulating, only loads of fun. When I got fired, I didn’t have a clue it would happen. Back then, I was a party girl, so premonitions weren’t at the forefront of my thoughts. The firing wasn’t about my work ethic, but about two people who didn’t want me around. My supervisor pushed me to have an affair and when I declined, he became angry. On a month of layovers, a female stew preached about religion and didn’t like my belief system.

A year after my sudden firing, with a high-powered lawyer at my side, I received a settlement and was offered my job back. I said no. The thought of returning gave me more nightmares than the firing, and I still have them fifty years later. The upshot is that I started an informative job at a music store and played piano and sang in restaurants and clubs in LA. 

When I was fifty, I started work at Harrisburg Academy as the school piano player and teacher of music. Right away, I knew I’d be fired. By then my intuition was strong and I didn’t avoid psychic thoughts that weren’t pleasant. Five years after I started, the headmaster found out that I worked pro bono on murder cases and canned me. I drove to the next town, rented a studio from a music store, and taught private students there. One of my students was a board member’s daughter. Her mother kept at me, why did you leave? I suggested she look at the books, and told her I thought he feared my abilities. He was fired two months later.

The hardest part about being fired was telling people, since they often assumed I had done something wrong. My good name is important, and I felt wounded. It still makes me want to cry. Only time and new jobs helped me move on.

When you know something is about to tank but you want it anyway, just do it. Preparation can help a little, but to believe in destiny can help more. Those slammed doors opened better avenues for me. It can happen for you too.