I’m finding it immensely hard to write a post today, even though I actually have something to say this time! And I promised a friend a long-distance tarot reading, and haven’t felt like getting to that either. It’s been one of ‘those’ mornings, one of those hard-to-settle-my-mind mornings. Um, except that now it’s well into the afternoon, so good grief. I panic whenever a day slips by like this because then I start thinking, “Great. Today’s almost gone and tomorrow I have to work, and Jesse will be home, and then Scott, and then… and then…” and all those ‘thens’ fill in all those blanks, and there are no blanks left for me. But that’s me living outside of the moment, folks. That’s crazy talk, so I’m going to try to settle in and rest my brainules.
So, a couple months ago I was searching the library catalog, as is my wont, for juicy metaphysical titles to whet my metaphysical taste buds, when I came across a review for a book I can’t remember now. The reviewer was incredibly disparaging, which surprised me because most reviews I read on library sites are rather benign, and ended her description of the book with the statement, “It will most definitely appeal to the 133 crowd.”
The What Crowd?, my brain gasped. It had never occurred to me that the books I was so attracted to had ushered me firmly into a crowd… huh. At first I was mortally offended but then, after a couple hours of stewing, I started to smile when I thought about it, and then I started to laugh, and then I decided to embrace the idea wholeheartedly. After all, it’s as close as I’ll ever get, most likely, to being one of the IT Crowd. And besides that, it’s true: now that I’m aware of it, I’ve noticed that nearly all the books I put on hold at the library are from the 133 section. Awesome. I might even change the name of my blog. I’m definitely getting a t-shirt.
I’m used to being the odd one out, though. Always. When I was little, I was the only one of my friends who literally browbeat her brother into accepting Jesus into his heart so he wouldn’t go to hell. As a teenager, I was the only one I knew who had index cards and post-its of bible verses and admonishments of virtue taped all over my bedroom walls. As an adult, in whichever denomination I found myself, I’d eventually end up with my foot planted in another, pushing the boundaries and driving my mentors crazy with questions. It’s probably an oppositional disorder… except that no, it’s not. It’s just the way I think and I can’t help it.
Maybe you’ve always been like that too, which is the point I’m heading toward.
*When you’re in the middle of all this fantastic interesting stuff, it’s easy to lose sight of what other people in your life think of you, thank GOD. I’d like to say I don’t care at all, but I do, I still do, a little. Not enough to keep me from doing what I feel is right, but sometimes it gets a tad lonely when so many of my friends think I’m nuts. Or are concerned about me, as one person told me a few weeks ago. But until you’ve walked in someone else’s shoes, you really can’t know what it’s like, and that’s why I keep coming back here, over and over, to tell you what it’s like for me. I think that’s important. Even if you never believe me, or think I’m demon-possessed, or whatever you may think, it’s important that I be very honest regarding my process. Because there might be one person out there who’s going through the same things, or thinking the same things, and if I don’t tell my truth and instead parrot only what others believe, just to keep myself “safe,” then what good am I to that person? I don’t mind looking like a fool. What I mind is living a lie. I tried that and it just about killed me.
Okay, enough of that. Remember the female voice that said “No!” the other day during my deep meditation? I heard her say “Kelly!” last night as I was going to sleep. Both times the voice was joyful, full of laughter and life, and I feel that it belonged to my higher self, whom I call Caoimhe. (That’s pronounced either “kweeva” or “keeva,” and it’s the Irish name I chose for myself on a lark a couple years ago. It’s also after the Native American “kiva,” which is a sacred dwelling.) I talk to her more than I do to anyone except maybe Jesus. The other night I dreamt that I went into the kitchen and nearly walked into a huge stolid figure staring straight ahead at the opposite wall. He didn’t turn when I came in. He looked like a Mayan warrior, with a shaved head and beaded headdress and collar. I didn’t take in many details, but I did ask his name and got the word “Tikat.” I feel that he’s guarding this land and protecting me while I live here. Between Tikat, my guardian angel Hazael, and my big Siberian Husky spirit “Brawn,” dudes, I’m well-covered. Not to mention the lovely Caoimhe and my other guides, who cover me in every other regard.
Scott just called and is on his way home, which means it’s time to wrap this up and start thinking dinnerly thoughts. May you all have a wonderful evening, and if you ever want to know your spirit guides, just ask and they’ll reveal themselves. They’re there to help you in every conceivable area of your life. If you’re uncomfortable asking them directly to come, like I was before I understood who they were, then ask God for them. You can filter everything through God. In fact, you should filter everything through God, through the highest brightest Light possible! You’re better off that way, just saying. And now I’m off! Love to all and to all a good night! xo
*Heather Anne kinda sorta said the same thing in her last post, only because she’s Heather Anne she said it about a frazillion times better (which is perfectly okay with me). Read it, she’s awesome.