Funny how I picked this photo from the thousands of photos stored in my computer… she’s headless and doesn’t have her right arm. Curious, as that a bit of how I feel… I’ve misplaced my mind and my ability to give fully is very compromised. In fact, my right hand has been a source of incredible pain and discomfort (should I say – distraction) for over 4 years now…
My son said yesterday that I seemed to be “different”… that I hadn’t been my normal, upbeat self. He’s right. Well, he generally is about things like what the energy of something feels like… and me.
There are many people around me who see me a certain way. Strong, kind, loving, directed… and I don’t mince words when it’s important. People come to me for answers and somehow they usually get them… but lately, my experience of myself is that I’m confused about how to bring my gifts to the world.
As an example, this morning I was reading about a young woman accused of murdering her friend in Italy. In my head I heard clearly that she isn’t responsible for this crime. That she doesn’t have the nature for the crime that was committed. Further, she is being used as a decoy for energies of lesser light that try to hijack energy from divine beings.
Can you see me calling the Italian government and telling them that? Forget about it… and that’s what happens daily. My impressions of truth are so accurate that you could set your watch to them, but so outrageous I struggle with talking about them.
Some people love to shock people, share outrageous stories about extra-terrestrials and the like… but I’m not one of those people. My aversion to the “new age” sentiments bandied about for going on 40 years or so, make me grimace. It’s so off putting I feel like I have to hide my gifts… as they make me appear just like that.
But I know things. It’s like I “hear” the truth and sometimes it just come burbling out of me, like a stream runs after the rain. It can’t be stopped, unless you construct a dam to do so.
Maybe I’m deconstructing a dam right now, which makes me quiet and isolated. The dam I have used to keep me from spilling the goods all the time, it’s kept me safe from critical notions about who I really am.
I’m discovering that it is no longer a positive resource….
