Reiki For My Son's Sleep and Stress

          It's been another difficult bunch of weeks, and by "bunch", I mean about six.   My oldest son was and still is overwhelmed with continuous long-term projects at school and is attempting to cope with managing them.  He is getting little or no sleep at night, and for this reason he is falling asleep in some of his afternoon classes.  He has undergone two medication increases in six weeks.  He is worrying about the unfair treatment his bestfriend is receiving at the hands of those around him. Of course, looking back on this list, several things come to mind:  This sounds like a normal tween; all of these things would cause any kid to lose sleep; and wow, he's actually doing really good... considering that on top of all of this he still hears and sees our relatives who have passed over.  (Just last week he informed my that my late dad checked in when my car wouldn't start and I needed a jump and subsequent new battery)

          Nonetheless, I felt like there had to be something else I could do to help ease what was causing me the most concern:  sleep.  I decided to try Reiki with him.   While I had a nagging feeling that this was going to help, I have to admit that I was more than a bit hesitant.  You see, I tried Reiki with him in the past for his migraines and the experience was a bit more unusual than I had experienced with anyone else.  Usually when I am doing Reiki, my hands can feeling anywhere from tingly to slightly warm, but when I am doing it with my son, my hands grow so warm that they ache to the point that it begins to move up my forearms.  Concerned, I asked both my medium friend and my Reiki Master who suggested that I might want to focus more on grounding beforehand.

          With this new grounding advice, I decided to give it a try.  I started by spending a short amount of time in meditation then began the Reiki session on my son.  I  focused on his adrenals as well as his crown, third eye, throat and heart chakras.  Again, the sensations that I felt were similar to the times prior, although the warmth and ache were less intense and did not move beyond my wrists.  My son commented that he thought he felt the energy "move with my hands".  He said that was cooler than the warmth of my hands.  The most exciting and encouraging part was that he slept through the night for the first time in a long time.

          Through this process, I have learned that Reiki can be very beneficial in helping children in preparation for bedtime, easing children out of phases of nightmares, spurring creativity, assisting with ADD/ADHD, autism, and assisting as they process emotional and physical traumas.  I also found out, which should be no great surprise, that children respond to Reiki much more readily than adults because they have less of that, shall I say "baggage" to push through and negative energies.  Below are some articles and websites that I've found helpful in this endeavor:

http://ezinearticles.com/?Reiki-Therapy---5-Ways-Reiki-Assists-Children-to-Be-Happy-and-Healthy&id=2693265

http://www.reiki.org/reikinews/reikinews.html

http://www.drweil.com/drw/u/id/ART02746

May you sleep well...

A Gift for You

We hope your family enjoys this holiday season and finds some peace sitting by a crackling fire, cuddling with your family, enjoying a good book, sipping hot cocoa, taking a long walk...  You get the idea.  We took a trip to see the tree in NYC and brought this back for you.

          This weekend I found out why my youngest son sleeps in his father's Kingsize bed when he could be sleeping in his own double bed, in his own huge bedroom and it has nothing to do with the slight differences in the sizes of their beds.

          In fact my son put it very plainly and simply, when his said, "...because the lady that sits in that chair ... all night scares me, and the only one that comes into daddy's room is that man... "  This was so ordinary to him that he never even looked up from his Nintendo DS or stopped moving his thumbs in rapid succession.

          Oh, right.  Silly me.  I mean...of course...the lady, the man.  Truthfully, to the casual observer, their father lives alone.  "Honey, can you tell me what the lady looks like?"

          "Yea," still playing the video game, "she looks a little like you."

          At that point, my older son piped up and explained that he thought he saw someone who might have been the same woman.  He explained that if it was, she has been hanging out there for years.  He had remembered seeing her as far back as when he was about four or five.  He remembered she used to stand in his doorway by the paper-plate spider that hung from the top of the doorway.  Then he told me that sometimes he would even call my name at night, thinking it was me, then give up when "I" didn't respond.

          So, this must be a great grand parent of the boys?  My oldest has been doing this easily for as long as he can remember?  I continue to be astounded at the ease with which they both handle the onslaught of images and information they receive.  My oldest son sometimes describes it like a conference that he has to tune out.  Sometimes I wonder what possesses me to reassure them.  Who am I after all.   I mean really, they are handling this gift with such finesse.  But...it is all they know.

Keeping Cool

     
          Somewhere in the middle of my tossing and turning last night I heard a whispered, "Mom, mom.  Can you tuck me back in?"

          "What time is it?" I mumbled.  I can tell that from where I sit now, I'm not sure I was even totally awake at that point, but I do remember him pushing aside some things on my nightstand to see the time.

          "Almost 3.  Oh, and there's been glowing orbs in my room again."  I could see him now, illuminated by the brightness of the digital numbers on the clock.  He stood by my bed surveying the room, much the same way an eagle surveys the land below, his head moving slowly back and forth.  I assumed he was seeing something, but I don't always ask.  Honestly, I don't always want to know.

          "OK, honey, let's go."  He padded down the hall skillfully as if he'd been up for hours, while I, on the other hand, stumbled down the hall toward his room as if I had just staggered home from the local bar.  Noticing that the bathroom light was still on, I made a beeline to the left, shut the light off, and then headed into his room.

          He had already fixed his covers and arranged the cat in his favorite spot.  My son met me at the foot of his bed and gave me a hug.  "They're right behind you, mom," he whispered into the dimly lit room.

          Again, I realize now that had I not still been in my sleep-induced fog I might have panicked.  My body might have immediately released the adrenaline required for a fight or flight response.  But I was a bit sleepy, so I casually responded with a "Who, honey?"

          "The glowing orbs, mom.  I guess it's Pop Pop and your Gram. They are right behind you."

          I didn't panic.  I simply told him that it was peaceful to know that they were keeping such a close watch over us.

          "I hope it didn't hurt their feelings."

          "How?"

          "Because I tried talking to them and asked if they were angels or spirits."

          Right or wrong, I told him of my assumption that his inquiry was not the kind that would have upset them.  That they were far more forgiving than we could imagine.  I tucked him in and returned to my room to toss and turn some more, thankful for the normality of my life.

          Sweet dreams to you and yours, here and there...

Barometer

          My youngest, having lived with himself and his brother for seven years now, has grown rather accustomed to what he and his brother see.  The morning and evening conversations are so routine that he has started prompting his older brother with the same questions he has heard from me.  It's scary how close our children are listening even when we think they aren't.  He has also, unwittingly, developed into my little barometer for what is going on in the house energetically or spiritually.  This is rather helpful because I have found that my own intuitiveness depend heavily on my groundedness at any given moment.  My own gifts don't feel like they manifest themselves quite as readily as my children's, but that would be a topic for another time.       
          Frequently, I will send my youngest upstairs to change into his pajamas quickly before his "favorite show", which is inevitably some Sponge Bob episode.  Most of the time he will do just that if I can get him focused long enough.  Usually that focus requires a challenge, "Let's see if you can get changed before I can count to 50."  That focuses him just long enough to get the job done, but there are those occasions when challenges like that mean nothing.  He'll make it to the bottom of the stairs and reply, "Can you come with me?" 
          "What do you mean?  You can change on your own.  Besides, I already started counting."  Was my usual reply many months ago.  To wit he would inform me that he wasn't going up alone because 'someone was up there following him around.'  Of course, back then I would forget who I was dealing with and my heart sunk, as I imagined an intruder lurking in the spare room; but then I remembered.  Yep, there very well could be someone up there following him around.   He could sense it even though he might not be able to see who or what it was yet.  He didn't say whether it was good or bad, but he did know that the change made him uncomfortable and that was completely valid. 
          His older brother quickly informed us all that it was probably a dog that was following him around.  It was probably the same dog that sleeps on his bed almost every night.  He described the dog as having long brown hair and whitish tummy.  Tears came to my eyes.  He was describing my childhood dog, Cocoa.
          It's interesting how they see and feel different things, sometimes at the same time, sometimes at completely different times.  Where one child will see something, the other will sense it...feel its energy.  I can only assume that their gifts will be as varied and unique as the gifts of, perhaps two talented musicians.  They are not exactly the same but still very talented nonetheless.
      

          Some say that your soul returns for new lives to learn lessons that it didn’t learn in its previous life or that it will be ready to learn in this life.  In the process your life will cross the lives of others which will impact their life and yours. 
           I happen to believe that some lessons are hard to learn regardless of the age of one’s soul.   For example, the concept of procrastination.  We've all done it.   I'll admit it.  I'm most motivated when my To Do list is choc full of errands and other items that need doing.  I know full well that most of the list should have been done days ago, but...  For me, I think it's the satisfied feeling I get when I can scribble out the things I've done, and then finally crumple up the whole list and toss it triumphantly into the waste basket.   Other people live life differently.  These people live by the phrase  Why leave for tomorrow, what could be done today.  And while I would never admit it him, my son lives in a camp a little closer to me.  He  has no rules about procrastination.   He bathes in approaching due dates and only when his drooping eyes threaten to break his stride on the project that is due the next day, does he begin to fall apart.  And that is what happend this week.  There was some yelling, some tears, a little stomping...all the typical behaviors of, perhaps a melt down.  Panic, perhaps.
          As a matter of fact, being the mother of a couple of psychic children is not entirely all that different from being a mother of, say, two children with some other unique talent.  Their gifts have not changed the fact that they, too, are clearly here to be children, and part of that is learning some very hard lessons.  My middle schooler stands up for his bullied best friend, all the while learning that it hurts him because his friend's pain is his pain.  Oh, and the classic lesson, as you all know:  every action has a consequence.   This is still a tough one for my youngest who, as an indigo, was put here to rail up against the systems that don't work.  Well, I have news for him:  most of my systems work.   As brothers they fight like cats and dogs, and they love each other  to pieces, too.  As a matter of fact, they protect each other fiercely.  Their love for each other and connection sometimes surprises me.  Most of the time they can finish each others sentences.  Cliche?  I know. Right now they are playing on the same computer, sitting in the same chair, playing the same one-player game at the same time.  
          This will be a weekend of crumpling To Do lists, rushing to meet assignment deadlines, and closing up the soccer season.  What's next?  Well, when the list presents itself or the deadline bites us, I guess we'll know.


         Until next time...may the best lesson prevail.

Spirits and Guides and Orbs, Oh My.

          Ok, so let's talk about that sleep that I cherish so much but get so little of.  Before we do that, since misery loves company, would you be so kind as to shut down your computer or other reading device and log back in at some other more unreasonable hour to continue reading, like say...3am.
          Excellent, now I feel better.  Today we were all suffering from migraines (yes, we all get those too) because none of us got any sleep last night.  Was it a full moon, was there a major shift, or have we all "leveled up" (as my son calls it because that's what happens to the characters in his video games) our frequency?  Last night was a wild night.  For some reason I was up before midnight, and shortly after that the dog was looking to go out.  This by itself was fascinating because only hours before, she had stolen one of my son's melatonin pills off the counter.  Naturally, after recovering from my initial panic, I figured she would be out for the night.   Then there was the spiritually based experience of each of my sons that caused them to wonder in multiple times between the hours of two and five.  Sound like a regular night at your house?  Keep reading.
          I'll cut to the chase and get down to what really kept us up.  My son was being contacted by a number of people while he was trying to sleep last night.  While all warm and cuddled under his comforter, almost dozing off, he heard a man call his name.  Of course, being a polite young man,  my son replies, "What?", but he hears no response.  A little while later the same discourse occurs again, but this time it's a woman's voice calling his name.  According to my son, this goes on several more times over a few hours.  Occasionally, he's the call would be his name and at other times he's hear someone call "Boy".  Each time his reply when unanswered.  It frustrated him enough that he finally said, "Look, if you're not going to tell me what you want then I'm going to go back to sleep."  At that point, one of the voices, apparently reprimanding the others, yells "stop" and my son also picked up on a partial statement involving the word tormenting.  Feeling the need to debrief that conversation, that's when he came in to me with wake up Number 4.
          After we talked about it, we considered the possibility that these people might be his guides.  They are the same voices that he's heard before.  At other times they've called his name and asked him why he doesn't answer them.  That was several months ago.
          Knowing that this could go on all night, I prepared for additional wake ups.  Sure enough I was treated to a detailed description of what we believe to be a spirit who visited him and simply "checked in on him". He described it as very similar to the way the heat looks when it radiates off the grill in the summer:  kind of wavy.  "When I opened my eyes, it was sort of standing at the foot of my bed and then it floated, I guess, over to the edge of my bed where my night stand is. I could tell it was leaning over me."  Apparently, that's when he decided he had enough and he came in again complaining that he just couldn't sleep in there.  Obviously, I just couldn't sleep in here either.
          He was getting ready for school this morning when he mentioned off handedly, "Oh, yea.  Mom, those glowing balls or orbs or whatever were zooming around our room again last night too."  With that he headed out the door to school.  "Bye, mom!"
          Wait...again?   How often does that happen?  How many?  Was I the only one losing sleep over this, really?  Is this the way it is for him every night?
          As much as we talk, I always feel like we haven't talked enough.
          I still have questions.  Something tells me I'm going to always have questions.
          Deep breath.
       

Farm House Crossing

          It ebbs and flows, you know.  The ways in which my children experience life on the other side of the veil.  The way they can sometimes see auras, sense energies, and hear from the other side.  The way they vividly see the spirits of those long passed moving through the corridors of our house.  And sometimes they can only see faint images due to their developing gifts.  We have grown to take it all in stride.  The children share what they have seen and heard with the same blasé tone that would be given to the sharing of what they learned at school that day.  In short, my sons' abilities have become part of the fabric of our lives, my challenge is to trust without interpretation.
          Sleep is commodity around our house.  This is due to a number of reasons.  Many of which are related to the spiritual activity in the house, but the problem is deeply rooted in my oldest son's infancy, and although we've had a difficult  babyhood, each phase of life has had its sleep issues.  From bedwetting, to nightmares, to insomnia there has always been something.  During the time of this story, calling out my name in the middle of the night was the soup-du-jour.  Because of these sleep interruptions,  both of my children now understand the benefit of "mommy on coffee".  So when, some months ago, my oldest son caught me tiptoeing down the hall toward the percolating coffee pot, he understood that waiting was in order before recounting what he had experienced the night before.  I could smell the freshly brewed coffee from the stairs and could already feel its salvation.
          After pouring my first cup, I added a few extra drops of flavored creamer and sat down with the weekend's To Do list.  I was lost somewhere between 'groceries' and 'laundry' when my son announced himself by sock-sliding through two rooms and stopping neatly in front of me with the most angelic smile gracing his face.  "Mom?  Have you had your coffee yet?"  I smiled at his whisper.  I remembered how long it took to teach this young person about the sanctity of mornings.
          "Yes," I replied.  "What have you got for me today?"

          "Well, I saw someone in my room last night."

          It didn't take much coaxing for him to tell me about what had visited him the night before.  He told me that he saw a small woman or girl standing over by his brother's bed.  She was looking at his brother and he said that at first he thought she had short curly brown hair, and she was wearing a "flowered nightgown thing".  Then, when she turned to him, he could tell that she was really wearing her hair braided.  It was then that he could also see her mouth moving as if she was talking to him but he couldn't hear her.

          "After she turned and tried to talk to me, I couldn't believe that I could see her and everything about her that clearly and that's exactly what I thought.  I thought, I can't believe this.  I even saw her mouth moving!  I must have shouted it in my head because I think I scared her.  After I thought that, she went away."  On this occasion, his enthusiasm was overwhelming.  He wanted to help this girl, but didn't know what she was saying.

          I, on the other hand, was certain that he had seen my own grandmother, who was rather short at 4 foot 11, with short curly hair.  She also wore flowered nightgowns.  For me the case was closed, but since I had a laundry list of other topics to discuss with my dear friend and medium, I add this to the list and dropped him a text asking him to stop by.  That done I went on with my weekend.
         The next several nights before him came were restless to say the least.  The boys seemed to sleep well, but now I was having the most trouble.  No, it wasn't bedwetting, nightmares, or insomnia.  Rather, the boys were calling out my name over and over in the night.  I was beginning to question my own sanity when the calling out got to be loud and close that I literally whirled about in my bed expecting there to be someone yelling in my left ear.  Shaken, but seeing no one, I put myself back to sleep.  This went on for several nights.  I grew used to it, convincing myself that I was experiencing vivid dreams that were waking me up.
          Well, our friend arrived several days later.  Surprisingly, shortly into his first cup of coffee, he announced that he was being pulled upstairs by a very excited energy.  Naturally, we followed expecting him to make a beeline into the room that the boys shared.  Instead, I rounded the bend at the bottom of the stairs to find him turning the door knob of my room.  Gulp.  Spirits in my kids' room was one thing, but this was getting just a bit too close now.  Was he serious??
          When I hit the top landing, I heard him telling my son, "Someone stands here each night watching."  My dad, I thought.  My friend was standing at the foot of my bed, looking down as if forming the image of footprints in my carpet.  As muted sunlight pushed its way through my shades, he went on and with every word I changed my ideas about who was watching.   "It's a young woman.  She has brown braided hair.  She is wearing one of those flowered farm dresses.  She kneels down a lot."  He demonstrated by kneeling down on one knee.  "Oh, she has a little girl with her.  That's why she kneels often."  After a long pause, "This has nothing to do with your house, but rather the land.  There was once a farm house on this land in the early 1900's.  There was a fire and this mother and child passed in the fire.  The father was not home.  These two people are looking for help because they don't realize that they've died in the fire.  They're confused.  I'm going to take a few minutes with them and see if I can cross them over."
          At that point, my son and I exchanged knowing glances.
          When our friend was done, he answered a lot of our questions.  He told us he was successful in crossing these two people over.  The mother was a bit apprehensive about crossing over, but the young girl was quite excited to go home; she was the one who was pulling our friend to come upstairs to help them.  Once the little girl crossed over, the mother followed.
          He also told us that the mother had tried to contact the boys several times.   In fact, she even tried talking to them and asking for help, but quickly realized that their gifts were not developed enough for them to hear her.  The little girl then turned her attention to me.  She tried to get my attention by calling out to me, "mom", "mama", and "mommy" over and over and louder and louder each night.  Because I was reacting, she knew I could hear her so she kept trying.
          My son and I were dumfounded.  This matched perfectly to his night-time visitation and my own sleepless pattern, but we hadn't had the conversation with our friend yet.  "Why me?"  I asked, my thick head growing even thicker.
          "They realized that they couldn't get through to your kids just yet, so they turned to you.  You have these gifts too...you just have to trust in yourself the same way you trust your children."
          I realized that not only do I have to trust in myself, I have to trust in my children just a little bit more.  When my son told me about that woman, I immediately tried to make it fit into something I knew:  my grandmother. I think this is a danger for anyone, especially when they are speaking with a medium.  I should have taken what my son told me without interpretation.   I also realized that I felt a bit sad that I wasn't going to have a little girl calling for me in the night anymore.  Even though she skipped happily on to her next phase, I missed her just a little.

Nightmares…Beware

    "Mom. I had another nightmare. It was really scary this time."
    Ever since my oldest son was born, I have considered sleep to be a sacred time. After all, he literally cried for the first ten months. Well, not just cried. I mean fist-clenching, red-faced screaming. (His fists and face-not mine) I probably could have handled crying, but he cried and screamed all day long. When night came he slept in one-hour intervals, so when he was sleeping, I protected it the same way I've seen my dog protect her food bowl. I became a raving lunatic, and "Ssshhh" became my new favorite utterance. It didn't take long before my friends stopped calling on the phone, ringing my door bell, or knocking on the door. We even switched to paper plates because I wouldn't tolerate the clanging required to fill or empty to dishwasher. While I suppose we should have taken me to the psychiatrist, we ultimately took my son the pediatrician. Repeatedly. To no avail. After changes in routines and formula, the doctor finally narrowed it down to the infamous colic. Colic? Such a small word for huge problem. If I ever run into this Colic in a dark alley, I think I'll kick the shit out of him for mothers everywhere. But that's all in the past. At the 10-month mark, it ended as abruptly as it started and sleep descended upon our humble abode. That is, until now, 10 years later, when today's story is set.
    When I heard the nightmare announcement, I was frolicking peacefully in my own version of slumberland. I tried to assimilate it into my own dream. You know, when you're dreaming and you hear your alarm go off and suddenly that sound turns into, I don't know, church bells in your dream and you fall back to sleep. It did work on this particular night because I was startled back to reality, "Mom," he whispered again.
    "Huh? What? What's wrong?" By now, I had grown accustomed to this nocturnal routine, as these really scary nightmares happened about five times a week. I was actually impressed with how good I was getting at asking these highly intelligent questions in my sleep.
    "I had another nightmare. It was really scary." He was standing in my bedroom expectantly, the glow of the streetlamps illuminating the room just enough to cast him as a dark figure.
    After removing our new cat from my chest and his tail from my armpit, I sat up. "OK honey. What time is it?"
    "It's 12:15." He whispered. "I want to stay in here." He plopped himself down at the foot of my king size bed. (Parents, I digress for a moment. In purchasing this bed, the salesman slyly convinced me to break Parental Rule Number 32: The bed should never be bigger than necessary. This king size bed was big enough for half the people on my street. Big mistake. ) I realized that I couldn't say, 'Honey there isn't enough room.'
     So I changed my focus to buy myself some time. "What? 12:15?" Truthfully, I couldn't believe my ears. If he was right, I had just gone to bed an hour before not wanting to stay up for the news that has grown more depressing by the day. "No, honey, you have to sleep in your own room. I know you can do it. You will ground yourself, and I'll help you. Come on, I'll tuck you back in."
     I heard rattle snakes and the screech of vultures as the standoff began. The scene wouldn't have any more complete if John Wayne came sauntering through saying, 'Howdy ma'am'.  My son whispered again, "I'm not going back into that room." His emphasis on 'that' wasn't wasted on me.
     Because I sensed dirt kicking up as he made firm foot holds, I knew Sweet Mommy might not be successful tonight. I began searching through the many hats I wear to decide which one would be successful. I tried The Facilitator. "What do you mean 'that' room? What is wrong with your room? Tell me about your nightmare."
    "I don't remember," he said.
    'What do you mean you don't remember? Didn't you just have a nightmare?
    "Huh? I don't remember," he said again.
    Hey, I'm not stupid. It didn't take a brick for me to see that this wasn't going anywhere. I switched gears and tried to trick him into his room. Trick? In hindsight I think that's funny because when I'm fully awake, I'm a firm believer in what my late uncle always said: kids are born two steps ahead of their parents. Who did I think I was kidding? I tried anyway, "OK, well go back into your room and I'll meet you there."
     When I got there to tuck him in, we had a conversation about his nightmare. Sitting in the glow of his turtle nightlight, I learned about a nightmare that involved dark, damp catacombs, skeletons, and dead bodies. I had to admit, it probably was scary, but it's so hard for me to understand how nightmares can scare him. After all, this is a child that has pretty regular visits from spirits.
     He had difficulty falling asleep but finally did and woke up two more times that night, paying a visit to my room for reassurance each time. Needless to say, we were both exhausted in the morning.
     Feeling compelled to do something, and quick, I considered some of the changes that took place around the same time that his nightmares started. That's when I remembered the trip to his neurologist for an ADHD med check the previous fall.
     At that appointment, I mentioned that he was having trouble sleeping and it was getting to be a problem. Naturally, I neglected to mention that he sees the spirits of his grandfather, family pets, and close family friends. Nor did I mention that random spirits pass through our house in an attempt to make meaningful contact with this still-developing spiritual medium. I didn't mention that his spirit guides have also been trying to encourage him to communicate with them. With all of that still left unsaid, our highly regarded doctor recommended that we try melatonin as a sleep therapy. At the time, our relief was audible and we couldn't wait until bedtime.
     Little did I know that this natural hormone can cause vivid dreams and sometimes nightmares. After discovering this little nugget of gold, we began to wean him off this sleep aid. Unfortunately he is in the process of learning how to fall asleep without this natural hormone. I say learning how to fall asleep because while on the melatonin, sleep usually came within minutes, therefore he has little patience for the Sandman nowadays.
     And so, while I have informed you some and entertained you little, I must leave you here, on the edge of a cliff. Know that each evening the story continues, with or without nightmares, and definitely without melatonin.


Until the next time…Sweet dreams.


 

Protective Energies

I have a good friend who tells me frequently that sometimes I am difficult to understand because I speak with too many idioms.  Having grown up under a rock, she sometimes has trouble figuring out what they mean. It can be quite comical, as she often takes them literally. I use this to preface the continuation of our story because each day when I pick up the boys, I always ask several loaded questions. The first, “Is your homework done?”, usually needs to be asked twice in order to ferret out the truth, which often requires parental skills in managing pediatric avoidance behaviors. The second question “Did you have any visitors today?”, sounds innocent enough, but I’ve learned to ask it because their gifts are developing so rapidly that they are beginning to feel like common place and the boys often forget to tell me.  On this particular day I heard something very different than the expected reply involving sightings of auras, relatives who have passed over or my childhood pets. I didn’t realize those would only be a drop in the bucket.  And so our story continues…

Seeing that it was time to hit the books, the three of us sat down at the kitchen table. The late afternoon sun was pushing itself through the blinds and leaving streaks across the table and floor. The light was just enough to brighten the room but not enough to warm a spot in the corner for Cat to lie. I was foolishly trying to assist with homework and the boys were successfully avoiding it. My younger son suddenly jumped up and turned on my I-pod.  In moments he was gyrating to Usher’s OMG. This is when I knew with a fair amount of certainty that I had lost control. I temporarily threw in the towel and went back to the drawing board. I decided to go back to something they actually found interesting.

“Did you have any visitors today?” I asked my oldest. He beamed at me with a  smile so big it seemed like it would burst off his face for lack of room. I took that as an affirmative and grabbed the nearest Post-it pad ready to take notes.  Soon I was the one being tutored.  My son described a series of experiences with bright shining ball-shapes of light.  He said that one appeared to be sitting in the chair next to him at school, waiting for him in the boys bathroom, and even hanging out at the afterschool program.   In hindsight, the amazement on my face must of resembled the same expression on Richard Dreyfuss’ face during his first encounter in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.  I felt a combination of astonishment and respect.

 “I was in the bathroom today and while I was washing my hands, I saw a glowing light out of the corner of my eye.  It was over by the door.  It wasn’t just a ball of light. It had points on it, like it was so shiny.” he said.  “I think it was the same bright light that was sitting in the chair next to me in reading class today, too.” 

 I knew he wasn’t joshing me, so immediately the lioness in me roared into action and began barraging him with a series of questions designed to set my mind at ease.  They consisted of questions like Was it a white light?  How did it make you feel?  Did you speak to it?  Did it speak to you?  Satisfied with the responses, I let him continue.

“Then after school I saw a glowing sort of person-shaped thing.  It was sort of standing, I guess, over by the desk.  I think…I don’t know…it’s hard to explain.” 

I listened intently, trying to make sure I understood.  I had to admit that each time we had conversations like this, which was frequently now, I felt both elation and envy.  I was so honored to be a part of such a miraculous process, to be chosen to raise these children, but I was also a little envious; part of me wanted to see just a little bit of what he could see.

He continued with patience, “When I saw that, an image of Pop Pop jumped into my head, so I thought that it might be Pop Pop following me around today.  Do you think so?”

While I didn’t particularly know for sure, I did remember that earlier in the week I had a conversation with our medium friend about the physical and spiritual protection of the boys.  I wanted to be sure that with all of the things they were hearing, seeing, and generally experiencing, that they were safe.  I also spent a little time talking to my mom and my late dad about the same topic.  Then something occurred to me: Over the years, I’ve learned that each living thing vibrates at a certain frequency.  I’ve also learned that thoughts and actions also vibrate at a certain frequency.  Fundamental physics teaches us that ‘like attracts like’ and that holds true all over the Universe.  When I began focusing energy in the form of thought and conversation on their protection, is it possible I helped to bring that to them.   I don’t know if they were family spirits or angels, but I do believe they were positive, protective energies.  After all, what negative energy would care enough to follow the boy into the bathroom?  Only a loving being would do that.

Until next time…breathe deeply, and see only positive.

How it all started

     So, here we are, you and I, and of course the two boys.  We are sitting in our modest living room with all of the window shades up on a very sunny Saturday morning.  I make it a habit now to pull up the honeycomb shades and let the sun in because my dear friend and very gifted medium has informed me that the sun will help burn off negative energy in the house.  AND...I can't have any of that around here.  You should know from the start that, contrary to popular belief, I am simply a supporting character in this story...and, of course, I've also agreed to narrate.  The main characters are the boys who are currently arguing on the couch, even after promising and crossing their heart that today they would not fight.  So much for the whole telepathy thing that crystals are supposed to use to communicate.  That would certainly be helpful when they are fighting...
     About a year ago my oldest, who was ten, began to hear from spirits.  The first time he was alone on the back porch and he heard someone call his name.  The poor kid...seeing that he was alone out there, it scared the daylights out of him.  He jumped out of his seat and charged into the house.  He was huffing and puffing, obvioulsy very frightened.  Shortly after that he started seeing orbs, spiritual imprints in my cul-de-sac, and my childhood dog in my living room. Things started happening very quickly.  It was happening so much that I actually asked him to slow down, I wasn't ready for all this.  Obviously, I needed to call someone about this.  A doctor?   I spent days wondering who the heck would help us figure this out without signing my son up for psychological thereapy.  Clearly my protective parenting instincts were ablaze.  Then I remembered that I met someone only a few months before who told me I'd be calling again.  Of course, at the time I shrugged it off thinking it would be for business purposes.  I called and explained what was happening.  Naturally, he wasn't surprised.  We arranged to have him meet the boys and he has since been spending time with both boys, who are now 11 and 6, each week coaching and helping us understand their spiritual and psycic gifts.
     Currently, both boys have begun to develop their abilities.  My hope for this blog is simply to tell our story as it happens, from our own unique family perspective.  It will include what we learn, what we try, how we deal with our unique situation, and my own reflections as we travel on our journey.  Maybe it will help other families who are on the same journey. 

     Until we see one another again, breathe deeply and turn your face to the sun...