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The Bliss Blog

The Bliss Blog

Journey to New Hope-Life After Death

Yesterday I spent a few hours in the presence of a group of folks who attended an event at Soul, Body and Home Gifts , in New Hope, PA that opened a door to connecting with loved ones who had passed. Edward Tabbitis is a medium and grief counselor who has assisted many in soothing the pain of loss. It was an evening that included gallery readings which tapped into messages from loved ones, as well as guidance for issues occurring for those who were there. I had not heard of him previously, but when I saw the announcement, I knew I needed to be there. I have met many gifted psychics over the years. I have met others whose info was so vague  that nearly anyone with a wee bit of intuition could have shared the same stuff. He is the real deal. One major measure of someone’s abilities is if they pick up on details that they would no other way of knowing than if Spirit had whispered in their ears.  

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He began by tapping his right hand and the pen he held in it against his leg in a manner that told me that my father was coming through, since Ed’s movements replicated Parkinson’s tremors. My father had died of the condition in 2008.  He then mentioned the letter G and asked if it was significant. I referred to my maternal grandmother as Giggie, since I couldn’t pronounce anything resembling grandma and the name stuck. Everyone in the family began to call her that. Although my mother’s name was Selma, her nickname was Georgie, so bestowed upon her by her BFF Miriam who worked with her. My mom had been a switchboard operator for attorneys in her twenties and whenever she would put someone on hold, she would say “Wait a minute, George.” so Georgie she became.

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Ed then began tapping his chest and said that it connected with the death of an aunt in Europe. That part didn’t ring true, but it came up a few times in the reading. He mentioned “You are all about love,” and that I needed to learn to trust others and myself and (he used this word) ‘demand’ more and receive more from others. He tapped his chest again. I informed him that he was reflecting the impact of the heart attack I had nearly a year ago. A collective gasp went through the room.

He mentioned books and asked if I had a lot of them.  Laughing, I let him know that I have more of them than any other item in my home. I think they are in every room. He told me that I needed to write another book this year-not knowing I had already written one, in order to “move on to the next phase of your life.” Oh, and he reminded me to dust the books and bookshelves.

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Another thing that jumped out at me, that I want to share here, had lopped over into my dreams last night.

He mentioned something about a train and wondered if it was significant. My mind immediately jumped to my favorite portion of the movie called Under the Tuscan Sun.

“Signora, between Austria and Italy, there is a section of the Alps called the Semmering. It is an impossibly steep, very high part of the mountains. They built a train track over these Alps to connect Vienna and Venice. They built these tracks even before there was a train in existence that could make the trip. They built it because they knew some day, the train would come.”

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I use this as a metaphor for manna-festing my heart’s desires.

In the wee hours this morning, I woke up and laughed at the dreamscape in which I was on the back of a train, standing on the platform and there was no railing. It was moving so fast, that I fell off and started running after it. I jumped back on and this time, held on tight. It symbolized how I myself used to run after life and felt I couldn’t keep up. Whew~

One more round through the room, as he allowed us to ask a final question. I inquired about ways to surrender the impact of my ‘paradoxical marriage’ that ended when my husband died, in order to move on. He instructed me to write a letter to him and acknowledge what each of us had done to have created that condition and then ‘mail’ it by burning it. I will do that this week.

Through tears and laughter, a group of strangers in some cases- since a few of the women there knew each other, bonded in the process of honoring love and loss.

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Pulling Weeds

 

 

firepit

 

After a muggy, steamy mid Spring day in beautiful Bucks County, PA, the heavens opened and rain poured down. Rumbling thunder, a wee bit of lightning and then sunshine prevailed. I went outside in search of a rainbow, and even though I didn’t see one, I stuck around to weed out some discontent in the form of wrangling the overgrown area around my backyard fire pit. Since the soil was wet, they were easier to remove. Prior to the mini-deluge, my friend Tracy Grammer who is a talented singer songwriter made a comment about loving the “weeds that are happy to let go.” Beyond thinking that they would make great song lyrics, it occurred to me that so often, I have my own overgrowth that might choke out the flowers I have planted and am waiting, sometimes quite impatiently, to blossom.

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It set me to wondering how often and for how long I had struggled to dislodge those that just didn’t wanna surrender. They might look like worn out beliefs about who I want to be, rather than the person others might expect me to embody. They could appear in the guise of selling my soul for love, or fearing speaking my mind, so that I don’t risk rejection. They could present themselves as hanging on to relationships for far too long, so I don’t feel like the bad guy. When I allow the weeds to grow rampantly, I miss out on so much beauty. What has stopped me from doing the sweat work is frustration that they don’t stay pulled. It’s like making my bed. If I want it to look neat, I need to do it every day. It takes maintenance in both the soil bed and the garden of my life.

What are YOUR weeds that you want to remove? What flowers or crops have they been symbolically choking out? What will make them easier to clear away?

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Is Love Being Served?

“You’ve got to learn to get up from the table when love’s no longer being served.”– Nina Simone

If you are the only one cooking, serving, clearing the table, washing the dishes and putting the leftovers away, it’s time to invite better dinner companions. I have learned that over the years as I had often been the one in the role of  chief cook and bottle washer, as well as clean up crew. I had believed that in order to maintain connection with partners and friends, I needed to take that on, thus making myself indispensable. It became exhausting and then return on investment of my time and energy was not commensurate.

These days, I welcome those who are willing to assist in each of those tasks, bringing their best selves to the table. I am moved by the story that I think of as ‘feeding each other in heaven.’  A person dies and is met by St. Peter. She asks the guardian at the gate to show her the difference between heaven and hell. She is first ushered in to a room that had a long table filled with the most luscious foods imaginable. The aroma was intoxicating and she found herself salivating wildly. She noticed that the people were moaning in pain; starving in the midst of plenty. She asked how that could happen and St. Peter pointed out that each person had a spoon or fork attached to their arms that were too long to be able to scoop up the food and get it into their mouths. “This is hell,” said her guide. “Show me heaven,” she begged. They walked into the next room where she beheld the same kind of table, food and utensils. These folks were in a celebratory mood, laughing, smiling and well nourished.  “How could this be?,” she queried. He replied. “Don’t you notice that these people had learn to feed each other across the table?”

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Who would you want at your table?  It could be someone from your past, that may have pushed their chair away and excused him or herself politely or it might be another whose absence is due to moving on to the heavenly dining hall. What would you speak about with these folks? At the end of the ‘meal,’ would you feel body, heart and soul satisfied?

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You Are What You Choose To Be

This morning, I heard this Jackson Browne classic called The Fuse that was the perfect prelude to an interview I had with Beth Long who is the editor of Doylestown Hospital’s news letter. She and I had last had a sit down conversation right before Thanksgiving. The topic back then was my feeling of gratitude that I had experienced a heart attack, since it turned my life around in as yet unimaginable ways. Today, as I approach the one year ‘cardio-versary’ on June 12th, she wanted to do a follow up to see how I was progressing.

What came to me so powerfully is that I make conscious choices each day about my heart health. It isn’t just about diet and fitness routines, although I do adhere to them. It is more connected with the emotional heart stuff that had me offering care for others when I wanted it myself. It is about deciding how and with whom I will invest my time and energy. Instead of doing things because I am expected to, I do them when they serve me as well. Ongoing self sacrifice can be depleting.

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One of my favorite lines from the song I referenced is “Forget what life used to be. You are what you choose to be.” It is another way of saying that your history is not your destiny. We are always presented with options to consider. I am no longer on auto pilot. I ask myself sometimes moment by moment, what it is I want to do and how it will be of benefit to myself and those I encounter.

Are you living from the past? Do you see yourself as being simply a product of your experiences, rather than your conscious choices of which way to turn on the path on which you are walking?

“It’s whatever it is you see that life will become.”

Previous Posts

Journey to New Hope-Life After Death
Yesterday I spent a few hours in the presence of a group of folks who attended an event at Soul, Body and Home Gifts , in New Hope, PA that opened a door to connecting with loved ones who had passed. Edward Tabbitis is a medium and grief ...

posted 9:45:58am Jun. 01, 2015 | read full post »

Pulling Weeds
      After a muggy, steamy mid Spring day in beautiful Bucks County, PA, the heavens opened and rain poured down. Rumbling thunder, a wee bit of lightning and then sunshine prevailed. I went outside in search of a ...

posted 9:44:30pm May. 28, 2015 | read full post »

Is Love Being Served?
"You've got to learn to get up from the table when love's no longer being served."- Nina Simone If you are the only one cooking, serving, clearing the table, washing the dishes and putting the leftovers away, it's time to invite better ...

posted 9:28:05pm May. 27, 2015 | read full post »

You Are What You Choose To Be
This morning, I heard this Jackson Browne classic called The Fuse that was the perfect prelude to an interview I had with Beth Long who is the editor of Doylestown Hospital's news letter. She and I had last had a sit down conversation right ...

posted 6:50:34pm May. 26, 2015 | read full post »

Wars Not Make One Great
Today is Memorial Day in the U.S. which commemorates those whose lives have been taken on the battlefield. It has become a harbinger of summer, although the season doesn't officially begin until the solstice on June 21st at 12:38pm. Cookouts, ...

posted 2:57:32pm May. 25, 2015 | read full post »

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