The Arts: Portals to Intuition

The arts act as portals into intuition throughout the year. At holidays, they sneak into gift choices and pleasant activities. 

When I was a child, Santa brought me books. Except for two gifts, the baby doll that 34 years later looked like my son, and my favorite Betty Crocker Junior Baking Kit, books were my best presents. Stories meant I could lose myself in the past or the future. That letting go spurred me to move outside my body into other realms, to help me perform music and work on murder cases with police. 

In school, I was a poor artist who couldn’t relax, but as I practiced piano, I could pretend to waltz in a white French wig, or come alive in the hills of Germany with the Sound of Music.

Now, when I prepare for my psychic work, I use music as a portal. You know how music transports you to other feelings and places? That’s what I use, that floating ability to let go of the here and now, to carry my brain away from the confines of exactness.

At the holidays, I use intuition and insight when I choose a gift for a loved one, and when I sing songs or tell old stories. Every year, my perception is altered by the people around me and my own unique mind set.

At the end of this year, let us bring love and intuition to the forefront. As they said in the 1960s, hang a little bit loose and stay groovy.

Children and the Paranormal

One sunny afternoon, as I did readings at a Renaissance Fair, a woman sat down and leaned in close. She said, my children are special but I want you to tell me if I’m wrong. Look at their palms.

With at least one hundred hours of study, I felt ready to do palm interpretations and condense everything I learned into their five minute session. That day, those beautiful, odd but bedraggled boy and girl opened their palms to me and I saw what she meant. Their palms were covered with stars. Big stars, little stars, perfect stars, misshapen stars. I felt such shock.

Stars on the palm represent fame, success, the ability to deal with challenges, and exceptional creative abilities. Those children, with dark hair and light eyes that bore into my soul, knew and accepted that they were unusual.

Children know. They learn quickly and they try to please us, but each child knows early in life who they are and who they want to be. Look at your sister and brother, if you have one, or an early childhood friend. Other than maturity, aren’t they the same as they were as a child, with unchanged strengths and weaknesses?

A paranormal child is not scientifically explainable. Any child’s behavior can’t be explained, as their funny word usage and quirky behavior delight us. Without the knowledge of classes and maturity, how a child hones intellect is nothing short of a miracle.

Take a page from a child’s book. Look at the world with thankful wonder, and believe that you know, because you do.

Body Intuition

We know our own body better than we know anyone else. It’s our own little house of safety. I liken mine to an old car. Slow to start some days, other times it runs just fine. It’s in the shop a lot, but my doctor/mechanic fixes the problem. That concept helped me adapt after someone keyed my brand new Subaru with eight slashes.

That day, I had a premonition that told me to park far away from the street, but when I couldn’t find a spot, I ignored the voice in my head. At the end of my holistic expo event, I spotted the damage, sat in my car and cried. You see, for fifty years I drove small, inexpensive cars. This was my first nice one and I felt way too much pride in it.

The following day my optimism kicked in. The inside of my car felt exactly the same, with its backup camera and heated seats.  At the body shop, a kind man said he’d improve the nastiness. “Until then,” he said, “don’t look at this side.”

My body is my true vehicle. When I had a red spot on my nose that started to hurt, I rushed to the dermatologist. He told me I caught it in time, as he burned off the cancer.

When our body has a problem, we usually know instinctively, as it hollers at us to pay attention. We change the oil (water and food) and put it in the shop for repairs (doctors and specialists). It’s the only one we have, our very own brain home, and it means a whole lot and sometimes a little. We just have to remember to use our intuition to know when to fix it.

Promote a Job or Just Do It?

We’re all good at a few things. One of my relatives is a master gardener who never worked in that field. A young Facebook friend transforms her face with make-up, like in the movies. A music teacher who rents space where I do is so talented that when I can, I open my sound proof door to hear his guitar’s sweetness. Yet, he seldom plays in public. It seemed a shame, until I realized that all his students get to hear him, and learn from him. These people do, not promote.

At a summer party, I met a 30-something man who pushed everyone to invest their money with him. He drove a flashy car and had a flashy mouth, and I found out later he lost money for many clients. He promoted and didn’t do.

Next month I’m giving a speech at the Harrisburg, PA Spirit of Oneness holistic expo. My topic is Murder: What It’s Like to Be a Psychic Detective. I guess, here and now, this seems like the promote part, while mostly in the past, I’d do, but that’s not why I included it here.

The things we’re good at don’t have to be shared. I didn’t start working on murder cases until I was 40, yet I knew all my life I had the ability. At 55, I decided not to stay silent, and promoted my skill set. Some days I regret that decision.

Work is not all about promotion. It’s about the accomplishment you feel and the drive to do something for yourself, not just for others. We all have talents we share, and ones we keep private. It’s important to do first, then think whether promotion works for you.

Astrology and Dating

I’m not an expert at astrology. So much of it fascinates me though, so let me share the parts I like.

                  

It can be difficult to date your sign unless one or both of you are on the cusp. In astrology, a cusp, from the Lain for spear or point, is the imaginary line that separates a pair of consecutive signs in the zodiac. Often the cusp occurs around the 20th to the 24th of each month. 

An exception to dating your own sign is Virgo. Virgo men are drawn to the arts and traditional women's fields like cooking, and Virgo women often have a masculine way of looking at the world. Virgos do what's called a switcheroony, like in the song, Satin Doll, written in 1953 with lyrics by my favorite, Johnny Mercer. His switcheroony was a play on the word switcheroo, an unexpected reversal, often for humor. 

My astrology go-to book is Love Signs, by Linda Goodman, which gives info about love compatibility with all combinations of signs. I'm Pisces, by the way, and so far, Pisces men have only been my friends, not my dates. 

Cold Calls in Sales and My Psychic Work with Police

In the 1990s, when I started as a pro bono psychic, I’d see a murder reported in the news which often didn’t seem right. That meant a cold call to police detectives. At that time, I didn’t have contacts to recommend me.

I disliked cold calls but I had experience with it in other fields. I knew I had to break a barrier, get past a receptionist, and find someone who would work with me. I wanted to hear a yes rather than a no.

In my late 20s, I worked as a radio DJ, read the news, and sold radio ads. Cold calls were the part I liked the least. First, I’d give myself a pep talk. If I heard a no, it wasn’t a personal rejection but a work issue. In time, I realized that success wasn’t just a yes. Success meant information and a small movement forward.

Cold calls are like an itchy tag on a new shirt. They’re uncomfortable for a wee bit of time, but they’re fixable. Use your intuition and imagine forward progress. A no is not a failure. 

Keeping Secrets

In the 1950s, families kept secrets: alcoholic grandparents, mom and dad fights, the occasional divorce, financial problems, and deranged relatives.

                       

In my mid-twenties, when I started therapy, I found it difficult to talk about my childhood suffering. Letting go of secrets took all the energy I could muster, so a discussion of my intuitive ability took a back seat. I barely admitted that to myself. And yet, my murder dreams would not abate.

                              

As I turned thirty, I tiptoed into parapsychology and a world I never knew. At fifty-five, I threw caution to the wind and opened up about my work on murder cases, and my ability to help people in unusual ways.

                                  

I like the new letting go of secrets. It seems to make everyone stronger, sweeter, and calmer. A therapist friend claims that we’re only as sick as our secrets, so let yours fly. I’m glad I revealed mine.