MY FIRST MEDIUM READING

I am fascinated by mediums, people who are able to speak with the spirits of our deceased. John Edwards, Lisa Williams, and the ever debated Sylvia Browne march across my lens from time to time on television; and there is a medium by the name of Felix Lee Lerma living right here on the Castro in San Francisco. My friend, Jen, who passed away last January, went to see Felix in 2008 and raved about the reading she received. If you’re plugged in, you can’t miss television shows like “Medium” and “Ghost Whisperer”, which is produced by the famed James Von Praagh. If we consider the overwhelming emergence, the intense visibility, of such a talent at this particular point in Earth’s spiritual history, our natural curiosity about bridging the gap between this world and the next won’t be such a surprise or nearly as shocking.

I’ve entertained the possibility of being read by a medium on many occasions, but something always came up as I pursued it. Okay well … maybe it was part skepticism and part nerves, too. But then, one year ago, SpiritCaat, a woman who I am connected to on Facebook, was looking for new opportunities to practice her skill, so I volunteered.  I’m so glad that I did.

SpiritCaat, whose given name is Lisa, approached our reading with open attentiveness and honest communication. She was looking for repetitive symbols in her work, clues as to common themes, and how they compared to true messages from beyond. I was impressed with how pragmatically she approached the very lofty topic, and how she tied past readings to mine (confidentially, of course) in order to learn more about her gift. I had no expectations as to the reading’s outcome and considered myself an open book, so my overall experience was very positive.

My great aunt Phyllis spoke to me through SpiritCaat’s otherworldly and intuitive connection. She is my grandmother’s long lost and deceased sister, and confirmed who she was by offering up her mother’s name directly. There is no way Lisa could know that my great grandmother’s name was Grace.

My grandmother, Thelma, is in her late 80’s, suffers from dementia, and hangs on to this life ferociously for many reasons. She’s been in a rest home for over10 years, and has been at death’s door regularly, only to pull back at the last minute as though reluctant to depart. In fact, she is anchored to this world by some very strong emotions and a lack of faith that I learned to recognize when I was in Connecticut with her for two years in 2007 and 2008.

Phyllis offered reassurances as to Thelma’s passing, but then it became apparent her multi-dimensional message was specifically for Tootsie, my grandmother’s youngest living sister. Tootsie is in her early 80’s, is very together (despite having bad knees), is very chipper, and very aware of and a little freaked out by all the death around her, no matter that it’s age appropriate. She grapples with unresolved issues regarding my grandmother, who was like a mother to her, and whose unsolicited and inappropriate opinions often caused familial friction.

She and I discussed SpiritCaat’s reading, and she asked many questions. She walked me through all the biggest issues she has with my grandmother, helping me to understand. Finally, with the knowledge that Phyllis and their mother were there to help her cross over, we agreed it was appropriate to prepare for Thelma’s departure (which has yet to occur, by the way). Tootsie was so relieved and reassured that she cried.

I have one last tidbit on this reading. In the beginning, when SpiritCaat was “warming up”, I was doodling around on my notepad (determined as I was to take notes), clearing my thoughts, and opening my mind. I wrote “ding dong” on the pad, which meant nothing to me at the time. It turns out, as my Aunt Tootsie confessed; she hears a door bell ring just before receiving big news about a family member. Nobody else hears it. Only she does.

Even when other people are in the room.

Of course, Tootsie’s doorbell rang only just prior to receiving my call.

This fascinating tidbit was further confirmation of the genuine nature of SpiritCaat’s gift. What greater gift than healing could a medium offer.

Read more about SpiritCaat’s offerings by visiting her New Age Encyclopedia here , and her primary website here.


Originally posted one year ago on September 1, 2009, this article has been editted.  Both photos in this article were swiped from SpiritCaat's Facebook page.

CHANGE IS AFOOT

There are some changes o’er my creative horizon. As this summer drew to a close, I found myself rethinking web-based creative outlets and realized I’ve outgrown a few of my blogs. Yeah, I’ve thought it over for a week or two, and I’m convinced this is the right thing to do.

Here are changes to look for:

• I shut down my spirituality blog called “When Isis Rises”. Spirituality was something I needed to talk separately about a few years ago. Since then, I've integrated it. I’ve even gone back to old blogposts wondering what could be republished, and I find the way they were written are all a part of my past. I just don’t see things in precisely the same way, and I don’t express myself the same way. Now, my spirituality has become a part of how I navigate life, and when it comes up, it comes up. When I need to express myself about it specifically, I’ll do so right here on Sapphokinesis.
• I also shut down my other blog called “Every Woman is a Witch”. While I still firmly believe there is a little witch in all women, I don’t feel the need to write about it any longer. That blog was a return to my spiritual roots done at a time when I needed to reclaim those roots. Since then, I’ve integrated my inner witch and, believe me, I ride my broomstick when I feel the need. I still see the ebb and flow of magic in the world, particularly now when the world is changing so much, so quickly. However, I’m not a practicing Wiccan, Pagan, or Witch, and I don’t write spells any longer. I’ve become something different and that is perfectly and uniquely me. I still read the tarot, however, and I hope to be involved in my tarot project for a long time. The cards will always be a big part of who I am, broomstick and all.
• For a short time, I had a companion blog to my art site … that was a waste of time.
• I still have an art site called http://www.donnalouisefaber.com/ where folks can purchase prints and link to my stores on Redbubble and Cafepress. All of my art and their companion blogs will go there. It is also where you can find my completed tarot cards and their meanings.
• I’ve expanded things here at Sapphokinesis and created pages to support my tarot, my fictional book project, and to tell folks about myself. I will also create an art page, and whatever else I think is pertinent. 

I'm still on Facebook a lot and have a Fan Page there.  I'm not on Twitter very often, however.  I guess I got bored with it.

In a nutshell, I continue to change and grow and my creativity is changing and growing with me. However, one thing is for certain, just as it says at the top of this blog … “I am a work-in-progress, in rapid forward motion, growing and transforming. I’m on a voyage of self-discovery, always creating, and I thrive in defiance of a changing and challenging world.”

So, if you’re looking for me, I’ll be here on Sapphokinesis babbling or over on my art site drawing pictures.

I hope you visit me often.

Love,

D♥

Getting What You Want

You Owe Me

Nine Hawks

When Elizabeth, Leslie and I left the house this morning, there were nine enormous hawks riding the drafts over our heads. We stood there, looking up, and Elizabeth danced around a bit to avoid getting pooped on.

Smart kid.

I was thoughtful.

Time is fleeting.

As I get closer to the 50 year mark, this becomes more and more apparent. Time doesn’t slow down for any one, and the world continues to change around me in ways that remind me of my mortality.

Elizabeth will be in high school before we know it. Already, she’s thinking about a car. Leslie’s head is full of a significant ex who was just diagnosed with lung cancer. How do you process that kind of information? I’ll tell you how. You do it carefully, and you keep it in the right perspective. You also forgive yourself for feeling relieved it isn’t you or someone very close to you who is sick.

All the astrological activity over the summer, the mercury retrograde, weirdness in Virgo, cosmic this and that … all the energy that has kept things either in stasis or compressed with great efficiency has been a mixed blessing. It’s mixed only because I spent time railing against it. It is my nature to be restless, but I have to admit this summer has slowed me down enough to reflect. Craziness at work had me so worked up, I wasn’t thinking at all. I created attachments and expectations to circumstances I have no control over, and then I reacted to them. Ironically, it turns out these are circumstances I don’t want control over, and once I realized why I reacted, I was surprised at how easy they were to let go. As a German friend of mine says after a good work out, “I got over it”.

This summer has given me time to listen, which is something I work on continuously. Good listening skills are easy to put aside when you’re in the thick of things. I’ve focused on listening more effectively to my daughter, to Leslie, to special friends, and to people at work. I’m listening to the silence between the words. I’m listening to my head, my heart, my thoughts, and my internal muse, Francine, who I sense is undergoing a transformation of sorts.

Overall, the muse had been quiet. I’ve started a few small art projects, only to put them aside, bored or suddenly uninterested. On the same note, I’m thinking about writing a book, and I’m jotting down notes. “Make it sellable,” Leslie advises, ever the pragmatic Taurean, and I listen. I wonder if Stephanie Meier kept that in mind as she pounded out the Twilight Saga on a laptop in her kitchen.

“I will write a novel about vampires, and IT WILL SELL!”

Nine hawks. Drifting.

The number 9 portends the highest level of change. It carries all the potential, preparation, and energy of the 8 numbers before it. It indicates that we’ve assimilated what we should have in a situation, and that appropriate change is occurring either in circumstance, perception or expectation. It indicates we have accomplished what we should have. Spiritually, the hawk is a symbol of air or the intellect. It has excellent vision, encouraging us to truly see what we are getting into. It’s a powerful hunter, as well, encouraging us to go after what we want, once we’re sure that we want it. Visually, it is a sight to behold, and as it effortlessly rides the air drafts, it reminds me to go with the flow.

Change is coming. Keep the eyes open. Pay attention. And chill out.

So, does this mean things will start to move along at work?

Or shall I write that book?

Perhaps something entirely unexpected will happen.

Either way, I’m ready.

RESENTMENT

NEW MOON IN VIRGO: Banishing Uncertainty at Work

Sunflowers from a dear friend
remind me to seek the sunny side!

I had the hardest time getting my derriere in gear to go to work Tuesday morning. I wanted to stay home just one more day. The new moon in Virgo finds me unusually and purposefully thoughtful, so an extra day to ponder would’ve been just right. But this Virgo energy is about efficiency not luxury, so I got myself out of bed and went to work.

I’m pondering my art, and thinking about writing a book. I’m reassessing my blogs and the possibility of combining them. I’m reaffirming my commitment to family and friendship and using my love to make those closest to me stronger and happier. I’m reaffirming the commitment to my health, as well, by continuing to eat better, eat less, and move more. These affirmations are all part of the tapestry of my life.

More than anything, judgment is on my mind. Not so much how others judge me, but how I judge myself. My spiritual compass is an internal one, and I am content with the choices I’ve made around family, friends, lifestyle, and my art and other areas of creativity. I’ve focused specifically on confidence in these areas in the past, and worked through a number of very difficult and enduring life lessons, all of which where about judgment, but are topics for another blogpost. Now, I’m in the middle of another life lesson, the delicate fibers of which I can see at last. Clearly, this is about my career, and I’m ready to get beyond it.

Last week, I finished defining the Judgment card in my pending pop-culture tarot deck. The same day, someone on Facebook pulled Judgment as the “card of the day”. Last Wednesday, a taste of workplace neurosis from the recent past re-emerged, and its bitterness seemed fresh and new. Then, I had nightmares all weekend about things and people I most value being in danger. It’s funny how those synchronicities line up, isn’t it? It’s like my subconscious pushed rewind until I got the message.

Like everyone, I live with a few demons tucked away deep in the recesses of my psyche. They are private, custom made by my life experiences, and locked up in tiny little cages made of unbreakable steel called “restraint”. Only the Great Mother and I can open the locks. They are held closed by combinations called “self-esteem” and “worthiness”, both of which I worked very hard to reclaim after my precarious childhood. The first demon is a prickly little bastard called “Measuring Up” and the other is a bleak fellow called “Failure”. After making appearances (and being dealt with) in my personal relationships some time ago, apparently they have settled in the “Career/Professional” subsection of my brain.

Alright, I give. I get it. I’m here to learn a lesson, right? The last time something this intense and job related happened in 2003. When the cycle of change was over three years later in 2006, my family and I were jettisoned into a whole new set of lessons on the opposite side of the country. So, I know I won’t be released from this until I learn what I’m supposed to learn.

Before the firm I’m working for announced its merger over a year ago, I enjoyed a nice, mellow, make-sense kind of job. There was a clear line of report, workplace respect, and good leadership. I’ve worked in a merging firm before, and there are very sound reasons why the word “merger” has people looking for new jobs. The announcement alone had me worried. Two different cultures coming together causes company-wide disruption. The competitive and uncertain atmosphere has people acting like teenagers. Change is the name of the day, and everything that could make me feel uncertain in my job has occurred. I’ve been job searching since April, and while I’ve had a few good nibbles, it seems companies have lowered their base salary for what I do. The economy being what it is offers few alternatives and consequently leaves no escape. This uncertainty and the unprofessional and disrespectful way I was being treated by key people unhinged the locks on my professional confidence, releasing both my fear of failure and not measuring up. Soon, I felt hesitant. My confidence seemed to leak away. I judged everything I wanted to say, everything I wanted to do, from a place of fear. And those two demons sat atop my shoulders enjoying their success. Fear is such a cancerous thing. It gives over so much of our personal power to others.

The only way to banish demons like this is to let them all the way out to show themselves. Then, as though you are working a magic spell, whip out your magic wand, call upon your resources of courage and self-respect and recognize them for what they are and what they have done to you. Call them out by name, forgive yourself for being swayed and the way you may have acted, and cast them away! Learn from your mistake!

This dissolves their power and so they disappear.

Today is the new moon in Virgo, and I harness its energy to put a close on this challenge. Artemis, the Virgin Goddess of the Hunt, shoots her arrow across the heavens to strike down this needless fear. I will no longer struggle with it, and I won’t let it jeopardize upcoming career opportunities. I’m tired of the stress eating up so many good days and ruining evenings with my family. As of right now, and aided and blessed by the Virgo New Moon and the Great Mother residing within, I release these two demons from their cages forever, and I transform them with my magic.

*Poof*

“Am I good enough?” becomes “I am good enough!”


*Poof*

“Failure” becomes “Success”.

I am confident.

I am me.

And this is how it should be.

~as above, so below~

EIGHTH GRADE TIME MACHINE

Back to School


Our daughter started her first day of eighth grade last Monday. She got up super early to be at her girlfriend’s house so they could walk up the hill to school together.

Elizabeth, or Liz as she calls herself, is at the top of the heap now in middle school, no longer a Taylor Tot or suspended someplace in the middle of seventh grade. She’s one of those girls she found herself looking up to not even a year ago, poised to enjoy a year full of special events that no one else gets -- a trip to Great America, a special graduation dance, a yearbook with her name embossed on it, and of course the sacred ceremony itself. Eighth grade girls are spoken of in hushed tones, like “He’s dating an eighth grade girl,” or “I’ve been friended on Facebook by an eighth grader!” Elizabeth will have braces by December, too. Maybe even green ones, although when I was a kid we didn’t get to pick cool colors. The fact that she’s actually looking forward to getting them, like they’re a right of passage, blows my mind.

Elizabeth has so much to look forward to, so much to be … so much pressure.

I knew we were approaching a rocky spot this past weekend when by Thursday Elizabeth juggled both her computer and iPhone almost religiously to connect with her best friend, Jessica. Their need to reaffirm their friendship before school started seemed manic. Friday morning, she announced a “Stay at Home Day”, the last of the summer, and she simply refused to go anywhere. Liz glued herself to her technology, as she and Jessica shared an obsession over a gaming site called OMGpop, and their constantly competitive interaction increased their tension. At one point, Elizabeth exclaimed with glee that they were addicted! Yay!

Time For An Intervention

Despite Elizabeth wanting to spend time with Jessica in person over the weekend, Leslie and I gently declared a no friend zone and instead intended to bask our daughter in the healing, inner warmth of our tight family. Saturday would be about shopping, one of Elizabeth’s favorite activities, and the list of errands to complete and prepare for Monday. We shopped for clothes, shoes, and school supplies (which, by the way, cost a fortune no matter where you get them).

While we were out, Elizabeth maintained the link with Jessica over her iPhone. In real time, she vacillated between reluctant cooperation, exasperated impatience, and then downright irritation with Leslie and I. Each time she got too snippy, she heard about it, and soon it became obvious we were cramping her style.

After a slightly tense dinner of chinese food, we ended up at a brand new Van’s shoe store on Burlingame Avenue. It had just opened the day before, was fully stocked, and the sales boy seemed eager to please. That was a good thing because Elizabeth is notoriously difficult to fit. After being a size eight and a half for the last year and a half, Elizabeth declared that she was only seven and a half, and thus began a tug ‘o war around shoe size.

While Elizabeth and Leslie negotiated, I captured a few private and precious moments with Elizabeth’s iPhone to look at the latest string of text messages. I’m not concerned with violating her privacy. It wasn’t her diary, and I didn’t find it under the mattress. Elizabeth knows we claim the right to review her activity on the internet, although she refers to it as stalking. These are children using futuristic communication devices that encourage and enable disrespectful attitudes by eliminating the need for personal contact. Reports of internet bashing, bullying, and inappropriate teenage behavior whirled through my head, as some of the comments I’d previously read written by Jessica when she was irritated with her mother flashed before my eyes. Indeed, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst, I was enormously relieved to see that Leslie and I had been however irritatingly, but still only, referred to as “those people”.

I heaved an enormous sigh.

We were not “those jerks” or worse as some other children have called their parents. No. Elizabeth referred to us as “my moms” (which we are) and “those people”, as in, “I can’t get away from those people” (which I don’t mind). She complained we were finding fault with everything she did, and, I suppose, from her limited perspective, we were.

Eighth Grade Time Machine

Eighth grade was a blur for me. My brothers and I lived with my mother in a pretty little rental in Milford, Connecticut, but the front door revolved in a long series of freaks and weirdo’s. These were people my mother considered friends, but who, at any point in my life, I would consider a roster of the lowest form of barely vegetative life forms available on the Milford bar scene. The all night parties complete with band, open use of drugs and alcohol, people asleep on the couch, floors and showing up in bedrooms, punctuated by the occasional conflict between inebriated scumbags was a frightening parade of on-going craziness. You wouldn’t believe the completely inappropriate scenes I walked in on, and god only knows what my brothers were exposed to. I was frequently stunned, to say the least. My immediate family was no safe haven, and my mother’s behavior became a source of confusion. While there was a guardian angel that kept me focused on constructive activities, my mother showed no interest in what I was doing, and so at this point I started leaning heavily on my friends for emotional support and got out of the house every chance I could get.

Leslie, on the other hand, was a different kind of kid. She was in seventh grade in 1964, and her mother had gone away for a long medical convalescence. Leslie was left with her father, who worked in show business, to fend for herself. Her older sister had long since flown the coup. Leslie was a private child who didn’t share her problems and never strayed from her family.

* * * * *

For us, Sunday was, quite deliberately, a lovely, peaceful day. Elizabeth and I organized her dresser, her closet, and all her school supplies, and the process made her very happy. She spent only one hour on the computer at the very end of the day, which found Leslie and I speculative.

Our family approached a nuclear meltdown more than once over the weekend. Elizabeth teetered on a high wire of tension, brought on by eighth grade expectations, and Leslie and I were her safety net, guiding her. I found myself wondering what would happen if that safety net disappeared? How would our daughter fare if we weren’t there to guide her? Would she be like I was, needful of people and activities? Or would she be like Leslie who was private and self-sufficient? I’m happy that her biggest worry revolves around when she can visit with her friends after school instead of focusing so intently on homework.

Elizabeth is an uncanny combination of both Leslie and I, and if you’re familiar with how she was conceived, you’ll see the irony in this. She can be flighty and forgetful one moment, and then incredibly focused, attentive, and connected the next. At school, she manages to juggle a complex social network of friends, which extends across the internet, and still she gets good grades. We just received the results of last year’s California STAR testing, and her marks were outstanding.

All speculation aside, I got the reassurance I needed from Elizabeth’s text messages. Yes, she is poised however precariously on the brink of being a teenager, like most kids her age, and believe me, Leslie and I get on her nerves regularly.

But we're confident she’s holding her own.

Note: Photography by ellSNAP Designs (aka Elizabeth Leslie Faber).