The Bizarre Twists and Turns of Karma

Anyone reading the news or listening to its broadcast version knows about the sadistic killing of a Jordanian pilot by a fanatical group in competition with Adoplh Hitler for "worst brutality of the Millenium."

The pilot's elder brother had saved him from death by fire twice in his early childhood: the first time, when the future pilot accidentally started a blaze, and again when he was poised to stick a nail in an electric socket.

There is a chilling irony that this pilot was burned alive by others, on purpose, in his adulthood - after by his own hand he had almost killed himself with the same element. Most people would say this was a coincidence, but in life there are no co-incidences. Maybe the young child foresaw his fate and attempted to leave in a less punitive manner. Maybe he was preparing himself for the future torture he would endure. 

Only with the panoramic perspective of the All-That-Is would anyone be able to untangle the developments of this now tragic life story. In the meantime, the human race seems to be playing out age-old horrors despite the wondrous advances in technologies of all kinds.

The FBI Loves Facebook

The FBI has not officially expressed its glee about the benefits of social media and its mosh pit of juicy tips. However, it seems that our top cops find a trove of treasures from this global habit.

However, drunken frat boys who boast of gang rapes on their Pages are not the target of that illustrious group. The Feds go in for the heavier stuff, like recipes for bombs posted by the jihadist bunch - or young men disenfranchised by high school bullies and own enough firepower to take down a herd of elephants.

Not unlike the FBI, parents also find Facebook a great source of information about their children's doings (ET phone home).

We are a country of innocents, so accustomed to freedom of speech that our every thought can be paraded to the many with no fear of reprisal. Although this is a blessing, revelations about the extent of NSA eavesdropping should give us pause.

Many countries have found themselves turned upside down; populations displaced with very little warning as military coups or election fraud place unsavory characters at the helm. Guarding our freedoms becomes more complex in the Information Age, where data true or false attains near-immortality on the internet.

The adage, "Don't post anything on Facebook you wouldn't want your grandmother to read," also applies to our friendly eavesdroppers on the governmental level. So just in case you are listening, here it is, for all the world to see.

I fully support a Free Tibet so Chinese censors, eat your heart out. I love the peacemakers, no matter whose side they are on. And last but not least, I reserve the right to stand up for what serves humanity, and to oppose that which does not.

Gossip is Good for Nothing

When my niece was six years old, she had a run in with one of her adult relatives. No one told me about this altercation until a few months later. Family fights are an unpleasant subject and in my family of origin these unpleasantries were swept under the proverbial carpet.

Since I was close to said niece, I asked her why she had not shared this troubling encounter. She said, "You have to talk to the person you have the problem with."

Flabbergasted by this wise reply, I decided to take her advice. Talking to a third party about an issue (other than your therapist) often results in that third party talking to the person with whom you have the problem. And like a game of telephone, if the information is not relayed directly by you to the offender, it gets distorted. People love drama and tend to interject more negatively charged enthusiasm into an account than what one intended to convey.

Is this why gossip is considered a no-no in many world religions and ethical circles?

My mother used to say, "If you don't want anyone to know something, don't tell anyone."

Good advice not often practiced by me, and when gossip does fly from my lips, it always boomerangs back to me with avengance. Although my learning curve has improved over the years, periodically there is blow back from one of my impromptu vents to a third party.

Wise men and women are people of few words. To speak consciously, without giving unsolicited advice or passing judgement, challenges the speaker to set a high bar. Conscious, loving conversation and communication are an art form that needs practice.

The Medium Speaks Again

I saw James Van Praagh for a second time last night. Same venue, same marketing heading, but an entirely different show.

James claims that he never knows what spirit will direct him to do, and true to his word, the tone of night number two was quite different from the initial performance he put on the day before. (Maybe he got the vibe that he was viewed as leading a dog and pony show.) 

On the second round, he did a wonderful group meditation, told way less jokes (although a few standards were repeated), and the people for whom he read shed more tears - indicating that he had touched their hearts.

The most interesting part of the two-night experience was witnessing a public figure who was more or less in present time, reacting to the moment instead of a memorized script. And that's what it's all about. Anyone with a real connection to spirit knows that energy changes with the speed of thought. The split second the gestalt of the room changes, a good medium will pivot and respond to the "what is" to address the needs popping up.

Sitting in a room full of people whose intention is to lift the veils between themselves and the multidimensional world, where there is no death, is an uplifting experience.

All is well with the world today.

The Medium Speaks

Last night I went to a lecture/demonstration by the famous medium James Van Praagh. Having trained with him about 15 years ago and being a practitioner of that art myself, I was curious to see him all these years later. Knowing how the process works, I wanted to see how he dealt with the fact that no medium, no matter how fabulous, has 100% accuracy. He stands before crowds of hundreds while I sit with one person. No matter. When someone pays money and expects real results, trust must be engendered despite a less than perfect batting average.

When I studied with him, his first book came out in the last week of our class and it became an instant best-seller; his career skyrocketed from there and Part II of our class never came to pass. But we got it: love, forgiveness, and healing are the real purposes of connecting with spirit. Or as a famous Tibetan lama once said, "Have no unfinished business." So if you didn't get around to peacemaking with a loved one in human body, then a medium can come in handy.

That being said, James has had such overwhelming success in his career that the more subdued medium of yesteryear has become quite the entertainer to enliven the crowds he pulls in. I get it. Talking to the dead could spook folks so a few jokes and song might lighten things up.

Starting off with two songs from a quintessentially groomed gospel-trained church singer Thelma Jones, James bounces on stage after she rocks the house. The crowd is warming up. Then he jokes, "I am not a medium. I'm a large," in reference to his body type that resembles a gigantic beach ball. That's funny, James.

This is not a newspaper review of his performance so I'll get to the point of why this evening was valuable to me even if his schtick bored me silly. I knew what he was doing and while he spewed out endless details about the spirit who connected with a person in the audience (a son, an uncle, a mother), and people were transfixed, his entertainment style was like a dog and pony show to me.

But...but...he set an intention at the beginning of the evening: no matter which individual in the audience got a reading from him - the words, the energies present, were for all the people there; to be open to what may come.

I knew my recently departed husband wouldn't prod James to speak to me because he already has direct access. No need for a backup medium. I also knew that there were spirits and people in the audience who really needed James' reading that night and would take priority over a person the likes of myself.

So, when I realized that I had to sit there for two hours jammed in like a sardine, the obvious thing was to do a reading for myself and see who would come in. (Michael was already there with me, playfully jabbing my ribs and laughing at the irony of me sitting in this venue.)

And voila! His mother Violaine showed up. She had refused to see me in real life and had also disavowed two of her real female offspring. Heretofore, she never wanted to communicate in spirit either; a stubborn woman indeed.

After working with her and one of her departed daughters to peace make (they both missed early nurturing from their mothers, a generational issue), they happily skipped off into the ethers arm in arm. 

I marveled. James created a space for the entire audience to make a connection and it worked.

As he reminded those present, judgement blocks the good things in life and I am ever so thankful for his reminder. Despite my "insiders" view of the tricks of the trade, my critical mind slipped away as I rode the waves of the collective and hit a home run, to mix a few metaphors.

He says that we are not humans with a soul; rather we are souls having a human experience in this school called life. Perhaps he is right.

Blood Lines

Certain choice dogs, horses, cats and other creatures are subjected to selective breeding by their human owners. The bloodlines of these animals are of tantamount importance because the offspring from said champions yield big bucks in the marketplace.

In the human sphere, bloodlines also play a large role when it comes to the passage of money and property from one generation to the next. As this blogger is at the cusp of what is termed "old age," she and many of her friends have experienced the death of parents. In the case of those whose parents had assets to pass on, an interesting phenomenon has been observed.

In this modern age where divorce and remarriage happens, we get what my mother once called "the over-extended family." In a mixture of half-siblings, step-siblings, and full siblings, combined with step-parents and blood parents, the question of bloodlines versus emotional family ties makes for quite the stew...and plenty to stew over when the wills are read.

In the case of family ties created by social interactions of people not related genetically, the default position for inheritance usually follows the bloodlines. Naturally, this common scenario produces hurt, anger, resentment and often ill will by the family member not in the bloodline of the benefactor. And possibly for good reason; after having been treated as a real family member, when the rubber meets the road the dough goes to the genetically connected family member.

This trend bespeaks of an ancient, tribal mentality where genetic lineages signified the survival of the clan. In todays world, this notion is outmoded, yet our ancestral voices echo through the ages and dictate our decisions in the 21st century.

Although there are no right answers to the question of inheritance via blood lies versus social family ties, one thing is for sure. We will all become dirt one day, leaving behind every earthly possession. While we are here, no matter who gets the goods - or the short end of the stick - peace, harmony, compassion and gratitude are by far the greater inheritance.

The Daily Grind

For a Starbucks addict, the "daily grind" could signify an exciting new blend, akin to "specials" that high end restaurants feature. For a factory worker with a robotic job, it might mean something entirely different; a pay check that wears away body and soul. For a parent who has good food to feed the children, the momentum of getting healthy nutrients into their bodies might get old after years of negotiation; for the parent who has no food to feed their children, it might be the never-ending daily struggle to find a few scraps to ward off starvation.

Another type of "daily grind" lies buried deep within the recesses of the mind and can afflict the poor, the middle-class, the wealthy, and people of all nationalities. That tedium springs from ignoring life's purpose. Like a hamster on a treadmill, the person who lives an unexamined life runs frantically trying to get somewhere yet finds himself caught inextricably in the wheel of samsara.

Every day when the sun's light strikes the horizon, an opportunity presents itself to live the examined life. Like a surgeon who cuts out diseased tissue, self reflection can root out thoughts and emotions that rob one's life energy and the joy of breathing.

We are truly alive when we wake up.