Unexplainable Explanations Inexplicably Explained
Growing up in a politically conservative, Sunday-church, public-school education, mom-at-home, entrepreneurial family printing business and seven-children household kind of life, my world was heavily influenced by a strong community of conservative belief. Our father molded the political viewscape with clear definition. Our mother volunteered at the local precinct (aka our school cafeteria) every election. As she walked out the door, she’d stop and ask my dad, “Who are we voting for?” and he would tell her.
Mom sang in the Episcopal church choir every Sunday, which meant we were under Dad’s military-style-expectations to get dressed and out the door, post-haste. Always just a few minutes late, he would march all seven of us to the front row, which was empty and waiting as if it were always reserved for our family alone. Our Minister went to high school with my dad and was godfather to two or three of my siblings. I was the first baby he baptized after he graduated from seminary school. My two youngest children were among his last.
Not all of us were grouped closely in age, yet we each grew up with the same initial life patterning. We walked to and from elementary school each weekday, were expected to listen to our teachers, turn in finished homework daily, achieve decent grades and, somehow, our parents always seemed to know when we were in trouble before we told them. We attended every school event there was, and the family was involved in summer sports — really involved. From children to grandchildren, a family member attended that same school from 1954 until 1998.
Mom baked bread and pies regularly, meals were made from scratch and Saturdays were all-in cleaning days with Dad supervising the boys outside and Mom supervising the girls inside. Everything was spotless by noon. The family-owned printing business was in the house next to my Grandmother’s home. It was owned by Dad and his brothers, so our large family included a regular dose of dining-room-table-booklet-making-kids-can-do-this production lines at home, wear-your-good-clothes holiday gatherings, regular inclusion of Grandmothers and interesting adventures with cousins.
As a child, writing and creativity made my heart sing. It is still kind of amazing how much alone-time I had to just be and develop in my own way. However, the entrepreneurial road was dominantly present for the whole of my formative life. Getting my working-me started, the jobs within the family-and-friends network was the natural path as I followed my four older siblings out the door and into adulthood.
Within one year of entering the non-family workforce, the small company I worked for was taken over by the bank that had financed it. Immediately, the well-honed entrepreneurial skills and ethics I’d been groomed with since birth, were noticed and put to use by the much larger corporate world. Successfully moving up the ranks, I married, raised three children, attended school events, worked and worked, changed jobs, was promoted, worked and worked, changed industries, was promoted and promoted, worked and worked, moved to the other side of the country, changed cultures…
Then, on a dark cold wintry night in rural Maine during February 1997, the entire reality of everything I had known to be true was flipped, twisted and yanked from the tight grip of generational mindset. The ‘normalcy’ of the life I lived up to then started its slippery slide into nevermore.
With our teen and pre-teen children settled in for the night, I checked on the dogs, locked the doors, headed downstairs and quickly dressed for bed. Shivering, I slid into warmth next to my husband already asleep under a thick layer of blankets. As the temperature outside dropped into the high teens, I fell into a very deep and vivid dreamworld.
With a sense of urgency, an angel came to me. She flew me upward into what I perceived heaven to look like at the time. Surrounded in white, we stood on vaporless clouds. A substantive tunnel extended to my left and a misty-rimmed circular view downward gave me a glimpse of my faraway bed. The angel was both earnest and calm, but I kept looking at the tunnel. Something was amiss. At the tunnel opening, the ‘clouds’ were more like cotton batting bought for a last-minute class project. The interior of the tunnel was sleek and white. The drooping cotton clouds revealed a tin-can texture. It was the first rip in the neatly woven tale of reality I lived in. Even now, “Nothing is what it seems” teaches me every day.
Diverting me, the angel pressed, “Do you want to help up here, or down there?” Tearing my attention away from the tunnel, I looked down at my bed, immediately thought of my three children and an unknown ‘something else’ that felt vitally important. “Down there,” I responded. “There’s still too much work to be done.” Whoosh! I was back in my bed, sat bolt upright, looked around, and simply said aloud, “Whoa.”
The inexplicable changes in my life began immediately. Day, night, dreams, meditations, journaling, even in my car, the Angel visited often. Insights, foresights, visions, predictions, progressive dreams in series, messages from ‘nowhere’ — everything outside of regular parenting seemed to have a specific focus toward a destination that held no concrete place of where it would end. Life continued in a spiral that moved my family back to our western hometown, then moved us again to settle in the mountains of the Sierras and our marriage unraveled. All the while, my dimensional sight expanded and so many holes were poked in the fabric of reality, I finally understood reality has no bearing on what is true. Nothing is what it seems.
It’s almost twenty-five years since that angelic visit. What I have discovered is that I am a highly intuitive person — a Seer — a Sensitive — claircognizant, clairaudient, clairsentient, and clairvoyant. I cannot fully explain the why, how and mystery of what comes to me, nor the magical timing that has — yes, in human reality — saved, improved and mended lives. Nothing is as it seems and ‘what it is’ is far too often inexplicable to explain without falling down the proverbial rabbit hole.
With the experiences I’ve gathered in this journey, I’ve come to believe — truly believe — in the light of humanity. This light — our electromagnetic field — surrounds and supports every biological unit and the planet. It’s what I communicate with inside and around every individual I’ve worked with in my sensory work. I’ve come to learn this light we each live with holds our solutions, our resonance, and our healing. Ignoring it, darkens us. Welcoming it, lifts us beyond scope and measure into kindness, well-being, and even into our dreams and desires of path and purpose.
You may not yet know the potency of what is available to you within your own atmospheric framework, however, this natural lit-up world you live within is your very own magical life source in ways far beyond scientific explanation. You are not as you seem. We are not as we seem.
We are so much more.
