Dits-tractions

It could be something else.

This, a drawing, created in mediumship with Chagall, Braque and Picasso! Believe it.  I feel their hands in my life from time to time. Seriously not often enough, they turn the die, they screw the shuffler, they make me rearrange the best to be better as if you didn’t know it. And there is no way or words to pray as if the way had been lit by water. All a water molecule, all a daisy.  I wanted to do, to raspberry, to hang on your every word.

It could be that we’re not paying attention has to do with another unseen facet of reality… be it someone, thing or event that occurred without recognition.  It could be that something clicked as if the incident triggered a thought process which effectually resulted in a new solution to the current strategic bind.   It could be that something new appeared in the information you were assessing, that was striking or important to observe….  Like looking away from the tv for a second seeing only sexuality in your world and looking back to find nuclear war plastered all over the screens of your life. why?

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the lost and finding…

Nothing certain ahead, my projects moving along, I felt such great hope for life! and yet, so little for my heart- as the next big love seemed like an absolute implausibility.

I made a decision… I’d been hedging my bets for so long, I cleared the way so as to know the love.  Not any love.

The love of table, perhaps not today.  The love of tabla:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mCJkjhNmsoI&feature=related

as if you didn’t know it:

Ravi Shankar accompanies the snake, actaaulized in the form of a tabla, telling the story of a prehistoric snake… The actual king from that movie, what was it called??? I forget. I do not forget my Spanish! Oh right be back with that soon

In the menatime enjoy this commercial break:

Maxell commercial

The love.

the lone individual? no!

the LOVE, the divine… those special signs which show you so much in yourself that you know great respect for the world.  the lies busted, the truth reveals itself.  and you drop in, so cleared that you know yourself to have more love.

Like stepping from stone to stone across a creek, the finding isn’t done in a fell swoop. we land, we search, we stride ahead.  And in time we land as if the other side were a whole new world.

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Hasta ella cala ¡si! españa

I never would have thought I’d fall in love with a boxer, much less the Spanish language.  I have always despised Spanish, the language I felt, of idiots. Obviously I know this is not true any longer, so please if you are spanish speaker and don’t for some reason feel the level of sincerity of that comment then please remember I am speaking as if I spoke spanish many, many, many ages ago and please read on so I can explain.

You see, for some reason the thought of Spanish always brought a taste of blood to my mouth.  I even sort of daudled as a linguist in college, studying languages to get out of Physics in high school was a clear and present necessity but I did not understand why.  But Spanish was not one of the ones I deigned to study.

Recently I started and ended a project to cleanse my past lives, not that they’re horrible. They aren’t.  If I may so say, so many of these lives are veritably saintly in fact.  Even if they were so unextraordinary as to have been spent as animals, specifically ants and fish.  I would not yet again decide not to eat fish.   When I have devoured a fish that once devoured me.  When I may so deftly devour any little crumb as if our friends the minnow were subject to something akin to the rise in power of hitler.  Like I did for so many years of those, as if when I was a shark, I did swallow Arians who gave themselves bodies as fish… Perhaps someone or someone else or someone else again, even if they might also inhabit the body of a fish or a shark or maybe a minnow in the belly of another fish, man might not always be treated as if the water was so powerful to cleanse not the palate but our disgust and stuff.

But wait there is more…

Yet, as it stands, there is only one story to be told here. The one about me and the Spanish language and the other one about the boxer and still one more about saintlihood shall have to wait till another day.

Let’s turn our eyes instead to a freak of nature we all know and love named Barack Obama.  This man epitomizes something very guttural and strange in life and love.  A true Spanish speaker in a way, it is as if he, too, has this insanely adept language ability to translate himself into Spanish.  As if you didn’t know it, it is only in this life as his blood which any Spaniard would have to admit as reallly it is how we see him -the epitomy of being Spanish ¡si! is Barack Obama.  Let me repeat myself more clearly– Barack Obama does not speak Spanish that I know of, maybe a little bit, but, his blood drives us forward as if speaks volumes in Spanish.  Spanish, the language, courses thru his veins driving him forward passionately, like a bull.

But if you are Spanish you are not driven to water as is he.  By that I mean that you would not pour your blood out, even when it is your favorite pastime, like a Boxer (who shall yet remain unnamed…) it is as if water is something you despise– on some level.  I will explain that again later-for some maybe have heard that story before!  Of blood, and everything in it, is like a fountain for water that runs out of life, despising all that is in it. We all (humans that is) ironically now have something in common.  That is, that we all, as humans, love water.

Spanish speakers of course disagree somewhat.

Back to Barack, you see this man sometimes for his blood- a love of life in language expressed as passionately and sincerely as Spanish.  Does that mean Spanish is the language of biology or neurochem? I think not.  Instead I’d like to suggest, Spanish is to Love of Hate as Hindi is to Biology.  [Let's start rewriting all those biology books- you can expect that a few more bicep curls would help you in getting what you want if you choose to study biology.  For that matter some nadhi strengtheners, extra large index cards and more pens may also be necessary. ] (Hindi joke! sorry, I couldn’t resist!)

That is to say that hate is almost a necessary aspect of love.  I wish I could dangle that phrase out there and let a few Hindi speakers explain that .. but knowing still a lot more about humans as well as about the Spanish language (simply from regurgitating my Spanish speaking past lives), I demand your attention in clarifying this statement.  Spanish which is alll about love creates a forcefield to contain another form of love called hate which is inspires the love  for living the lies of life….

What the fuck is she talking about??? [This is so Spanish you see...]

Let’s express instead as if Love itself has to be divided.  It has so many different forms and expressions and one of them is hate, nevermind the kind of hatred which divides but is only fear.  I speak instead of a love innately Spanish- oh sorry I lost myself in the thought- a hate rather so innately Spanish it is love.

A hate for one, such as Barack Obama does not understand.  His love of water is English.  He simply sees it as the blood of life.  But for many of us, Spanish speakers (I claim this with much disgust for him as well as myself) see water for it’s potential threat. How could you see water as the blood of life?  As if seeing water as blood of life is so completely distressing it thins our very blood.   Nevermind loving the water and everything in it, seeing water sometimes evokes a sense so distressing it can keep us up at night. It’s not a fact I can relate to except on a deeply, clairvoyant level, something buried in my blood, perhaps for hundreds of years.

For its capacities to increase the love of life and everything in it, Barack Obama sees Spanish as blood and water for the same.  A unique strategem for discerning well in this world, Barack, or Mr. President, to me, is well prepared to examine why life should be better in this world because his blood is well-prepared to argue, make love (well, you know) and create a new vista for living well.

But with Spanish lives once lived, Barack Obama cares as if not to besmirch reality when, as if we didn’t know it, now is a time not for hatred of the lowest kind, but as he has said, it is the time for what I know.  And that is the love of knowing how to despise what we as humans did wrong as if we see blood thinning.

So, hasta ella cala ¡si¡ españa, because

***  This, by the way, is psychic work… not linguistics, nor linguistic paralysis as some might argue ;),  nor are these images an indication of Alzheimer’s, because these are things we all experience from our past lives. If we look at Alzheimer’s, it might be more like ‘Dandelion’ the video? ¡no! It is more like the experience of ‘Dandelion’ the blog entry and therein being inclusive of the video and musical content which screams of relief. So if, you idiot candidate, have skipped the parenthetical content, so to speak, as if, ‘oh! I have had it! this … refuse … you are spewing much resembles the dialogue of someone like …’ Well, I say, no.  It is not that, it is simply that Alzheimer’s is the reference I was making… And that this experience actually offers a unique vantage to the human mind, if not body,, because it appears that the Alzheimer’s body which otherwise stagnating has a propensity to detox something for the rest of us.   and this, is much like tennis and everything it does for the world.  Because as you watch the ground, so red, as we walk on, run on, dance on, tennis watchers, look to me? no look at the faces of the athletes doing the tennis and wonder whether they might in fact be processing information as if they are the supercomputers of the human consciousness. I think so.  Yes, I think these people… the athletes, the alzheimer’s patients and in fact you and I, the viewers, are equal participants in these matches.

If you debate this well… that is fine. But, ¡no!, well, more on that later.  As for the story of the running of the blood, tune in later….  [Again this is a short point but you might want some musical accompaniment- for your emotional enjoyment and nothing less.  Music for Films, Aragon by Brian Eno http://www.allmusic.com/performance/aragon-mq0000286231]

No, I cannot finish this today… because there is more to be said.

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Dandelion

Fairy tales have no meaning is what is commonly accepted, yet, as if you didn’t know it there are a few which seemed so real as architects of desire in the world.  Never in our wildest dreams would we sit and stare as if the only think to be done was dream but that is what fantasies always seemed to mean. Just dream, girls and boys, just dream yet what do we find but an insulting behaviour creeps all over the internet screaming, ‘DREAMS ARE NOT WHAT ITS ABOUT!!!’ And it’s true boys and girls, what we have done is say that fantasies are all we have to live.  It’s not that way though.

Actually, facebook is the best at capturing the world’s secret fantasies.  Yes while you sit there and harbor hatred as if the fantasy doesn’t work that person’s life you get stuck on brings you down? no. For whining’s sake and some other philosophical craziness, we look up because of the resentment, that simple disgust, we feel from looking at Facebook.  No, that resentment is what was lacking before? Sort of.  Why not explore Facebook seems to say… resent away. So long as you know it and admit it it becomes a creative force.

Seriously, the death of a friend recently made me freak out. No one mentioned it to me.  I couldn’t handle it they said.  Wrong.  Didn’t you know? I get the hint long before?  Well, maybe it’s just not on facebük.

But if tennis were an indicator of something extraordinary, (how could it be? nah, i choose not to fantasize or let myself slip away in that. Spaghetti dinner facebook, mmm that is a meal.)

No tennis is toppling, a pile of spaghetti that has been plaguing me -or rather us- for nearly a century.  What I see going on the court does not come off in the same form.  For instance, yesterday ish, someone described himself as gay before the match he played, as if a fantasy lingered in his mind, ‘hmm could I be that?’ And then… someone else came on the court and did  the same.  In the first, let’s say ‘match’ it got us creeped out, as if all the world saw ‘him’ (nah I wouldn’t really tell you in this circumstance) as if he …. or she… got caguht I mean caught for it.  As if, he or she came out sipping a strong cup of  Dandelion http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Urzxg3IAWNE   wine.  Then suddenly, you realize, oh not what I thought was happening in that person’s life.   but by the end of the match there’s something different there.

Never in my life’s path would I have thought this is exactly the drama we feel and see everyday on facebük. I felt it didn’t you? He held the murder weapon in his hand and it was plastic.

Plastic, I see.  fuck you plastic.  You cannot be in this world anymore.

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Grunts, Groans, Squeaks!

* for your listening pleasure, please open U2 New York!

For those of you following the Aussie Open, and perhaps sports in general, you may have noticed some grunts, groans and sometimes squeaks emitted from the general vicinity of the court. From my  perspective, these seemingly ominous, distracting, focus oriented and even well-construed sounds are an indication of an interesting conversation or lack thereof. As a clairvoyant I am someone who sees the body and being of humans as energy. Everything we see, hear, feel, do and think has an energetic expression.  Sounds like those we hear on and about the tennis court are often indications of beingness (or the spirit) which is slightly out of whack.  Continue reading

Posted in Alzheimer's, Athleticism, Business, Celebrity, Clairvoyance, Future, Games, Go, Music, Musical Attributes, New York, Tennis, U2 | 30 Comments

Funny Trip to the Neurologist

Went to visit a local neurologist the other day to continue to explore Dad’s somewhat confounding issues with walking.   It’s been, shall we say, up and down since Xmas.  The readings and energy work certainly help him focus and even motivate but he’s developed this strange thing where he drags his left leg… He’ll be walking along with his walker, the leg starts to drag so much that Continue reading

Posted in Alzheimer's, Alzheimer's gait shift, Shuffling | 7 Comments

How to fill your world with music

I used to wake up every morning with a song in my head.  For years I didn’t even think twice about it… just bopped along with my inner dj. Maybe it set the tone for the day in some way, maybe it simply got me out of bed, maybe it distracted me and put me in some other world….

After years of having this inner broadcast, one day it stopped. And I forgot.  how I let this vanish I don’t know…  I had always loved this about my world!  The music itself, yes, the surprise over which song it might be, the variety, all added up to the kind of inner dialogue that occasionally broke me out in laughter.

Recently I found that the radio’s been malfunctioning… or well maybe not as clear as I’d choose to listen to were I actually, say, listening to the radio in the car.  (You guys remember what tuning a radio is like right?)

For some of us the issues revolve around this.  For some they do not. If you want to know more, if you want to be able to discern yourself and others better, you probably would benefit from getting this aspect of yourself tuned up.  It’s not like it would hurt that’s for sure!

Posted in Athleticism, Clairvoyance, Music, Tennis | 3 Comments

The Argument

I don’t know about you but for a long time I had an intense drive to try to be better than my father at something.  It’s driven my career choices, academics and even my financial status for way longer than I care to admit.

Needless to say, competition runs high among my immediate family.  My parents were both athletic.  Mom, a competitive sailor, field hockey player and daughter to an Olympic hopeful, earned recognition Continue reading

Posted in Alzheimer's, Athleticism, Clairvoyance, Shuffling | 2 Comments

Big Steps

In August, Dad started to develop the shuffle.  This new development in his Alzheimer’s hit me between the eyes. It’s been a profound journey acknowledging and accepting his Alzheimer’s diagnosis. I try to keep myself in time with it by thinking of him like a child. Still, I found myself struggling with grief. Suddenly he was like a two year old- and I had only just gotten comfortable with him being two and a half!!

His shuffling slowed us both down. I wanted to be showing him the world, reminding him of a bigger picture and finding new things to laugh about.  Instead I had to stabilize and protect him. Not only that, I was now freaking out: with the shuffling came an intense shadowy presence.  As he lurched along, something else lurked right along with him Continue reading

Posted in Alzheimer's, Alzheimer's gait shift, Athleticism, Clairvoyance, Shuffling, Tennis | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Reading the Future

Most people say, ‘I don’t want to know!’
So you know, neither do I!!!  If you really want to know the future, I’m probably not the one to ask. Yes, I work as a clairvoyant but it isn’t all about reading the future, in fact, it’s about maximizing your potential in the present.  Try not to see what’s at handand you can end up in a self-defeating prophecy. Look on as if future is already played, maybe you choose to see it or create it as if predetermined but Continue reading
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