Archive for the ‘ Being Psychic ’ Category

The FOD Girls

Wednesday, March 13th, 2013

Lexi Meets The Neanderthal Man

Summer is saying, “So far nothing odd has happened today for you to write about in your blog, Mom.”

And, then it happens.

The three of us are playing hooky from our regular lives, today. We’ve come to Balboa Park to give my granddaughter Lexi, who is 10, some museum culture. Lexi has been badgering us for months, to take her to see the “Naked Neanderthal men at the History Museum.”

I’ve thought she might be disappointed. In America, nobody has genitals in these kinds of places. It’s just not done. This may be why the Neanderthals died out.

The cavemen are indeed a disappointment.

Next, we have lunch outside at a fancy place on the Park grounds. While looking at the menu, Summer says, “Lexi will have a big Margarita.”

Lexi snaps to attention and gets excited.

“Oh wait,” her mother says, ” I was thinking about myself, not you Lexi. Sorry.”

Lexi slumps in her chair and peers at her dismal glass of water.

So far, nothing *FOD has happened.

As we get up from our table after lunch, we notice small white hearts encased in tiny plastic snack baggies, on the ground.

Oh my! (more…)

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Escapade At The Pink Hotel

Tuesday, May 29th, 2012

My Sister Polly At Home Before She Shot Me For Writing This Blog

My sister Polly calls me, breathless about something.

“Venus” she says,  ”you have to drive me down the mountain to the hospital. There’s a bird in the van and I have to bring him home. And, I have to drive the van home, too!”

It’s 5:30 PM. I am naked, wrapped in an old bathrobe, and lying on my bed. I am tired.

“What bird?” I ask. “What van? Why is the bird at the hospital?”

Polly always says whatever is in her head at the moment and she seems to assume that you have been in there with her and have been following along.

“Well, the bird can’t stay in the van,” says Polly, reasonably. “I’m coming right over to get you.”

Now I won’t get to eat dinner or watch the news or take a rest. And, I can’t go down the mountain naked. I will have to get dressed.

“Polly, you aren’t making any sense,” I say. “How did some bird get to the hospital in a van?”

Okay, Dear Readers, I will spare you what I went through trying to get the full story. But, before I got the gist and the punchline, I did end up screaming and shouting because Polly kept throwing out the details in no order whatsoever.

I will save your patience and tell you what happened and why and how a hunting raptor with heavy, sharp talons and a thick yellow beak, wearing a brown cloth hood, ended up in a white van at the hospital an hour away from us.

Polly’s forty-year-old son, Josh, has fallen off a two story hotel roof.

Yes, that’s what has happened and now I suppose you want to know the rest of the story. (more…)

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Mother And The Chinese Doctors

Monday, April 30th, 2012

Mom's Chinese Doctor

 

My mother and I thought it was a good idea at the time.

I say, “Mom. Let’s go down the mountain and see a Chinese herbalist and get me some Chinese herbs to mix up and brew. I know they’ll make me feel better.”

“Good idea, honey,” my mother says. “You always have such good ideas.”

(This all happened many lives ago, while I was divorcing my second and last husband, and I was a physical and emotional wreck. I needed a cure.)

Off we chug; down the mountain to a quirky place called Hillcrest where I quickly find just the right little shop for me. It’s dark inside.  From the ceiling hang swaths of  dried plants. Glass jars packed with ground, pulverized, and shaved herbs (and probably beetles and dung and dragonfly heads), sit on shelves.

Oh yum. I forget all about my unhappiness with the Bad Husband.  (more…)

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Dead Man Talking

Tuesday, February 28th, 2012

I’m asleep when I realize I’m having a dream within a dream.

Bruce is here and he’s talking to me.

Bruce is dead.
I know he’s dead and I know in my dream that he is dead. He tells me he has some messages that he wants me to give to his wife, my friend and art painting partner, Regina.
“Why can I talk to Bruce when I can’t reach my mother,” I hear myself whining at the bottom corner of the “dream.”

My mother died over a year ago and I have had little contact with her since.

Bruce died five years ago, when he was fifty, after a ghastly run with colon cancer.

It was a long run. He had been a handsome, strong, vital man. A brilliant man. We were friends.

Toward the end of his life he lay like a waxen, hairless skeleton on his couch. I sat beside him in a chair and rubbed and soothed his bald head. He told me if he could change things he would never have had chemo.

When Bruce was in hospice and hours away from dying Regina called and asked me to go into his head and tell them what he wanted. He was restless, she said. He desperately wanted something and he couldn’t talk.

(more…)

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A Cheery Day With Venus

Wednesday, April 29th, 2009

When my father went blind, I sometimes took him to the Blind Center where he could socialize. One day, I met an old blind lady there, named Ruth.  She was charming but what captivated me most was that Ruth had penciled her bald eyebrows into a surprised arch……. with a bright red lip liner.

I remember thinking, ‘Oh my gosh, is this my fate in my old age? Will I be doing things like this?”

Apparently so.  I look in the mirror as I’m getting ready for my big Studio Art Tour Event and I notice that I have outlined my eyes, top and bottom, not with a brown eyebrow pencil but with my red lip liner.

Eeeeh gads!!

I assure myself that the light in this bathroom is very poor.

It’s the day of the Studio Tour when hopefully, hordes of buyers will come and purchase my art.

Summer, her father Bumpa, and my grand kids are here to help me. Lexi is six and Loch is three.

Loch has arrived wearing his usual attire. A tee shirt, shorts, high plastic yellow rain boots patterned with some kid design and his large green and white cotton gloves.

He only takes his gloves off when he goes to bed. For several years now he has referred to himself as ‘a hard working man,’ and he likes to dress the part.

Summer tells me he wears the gloves so constantly that they have acquired a rank stink.

“I’ve washed them and bleached them but within a few days, the smell is back,” she says.

She tells me she is afraid that he’s going to get a fungus. (more…)

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Wrong Shoe/Right Hat/Spaghetti Breast

Tuesday, March 24th, 2009

“Are you coming up town?”

My ex-boyfriend Bill, the one who lives in my studio apartment, calls me from his work. He’s been at the bank for two hours now and I wonder why he’s asking me if I am coming up town. I’m suspicious and as it turns out, I have a right to be.

“Well,” he continues, “…..I just noticed that I wore two different pairs of shoes to work.”

I’m quiet, soaking in the picture.

“Well, OK, so it happens, ” he says. “I need you to go in my room and find a black shoe with laces. Get the Tom McCan one, I have to match it with the other shoe on my right foot. So, get the left foot, would you?”

I start laughing. And laughing. I snort through the rest of the phone call where I promise to bring him a matching shoe.

I run out to Bill’s place and root around in his shoes. Grabbing the one he wants, I run into my house and find my housekeeper. Isabel doesn’t speak any English but when I pantomime Bills’ trouble and shake the shoe in the air, Isabel gets it. She laughs and laughs as she waves and shakes a blue duster in the air.

On my way up to the bank to salvage Bill’s reputation, I stop to see my mother. I have to tell someone Bill’s hilarious news.

I say, “Guess what Mom! Bill wore two different shoes to work and he didn’t even notice it for two hours!!”

I’m jerking and grinning and giggling and ha ha ha-ing.

Mom looks and me and says thoughtfully, “…..I’ve done that.”

“Oh geez Mom, you would.”

Mom doesn’t see the humor.

“You and Bill are just alike. I don’t know where you two live in your heads.”

I sigh and mumble, “Dang, a good story wasted.”

My mother has recently dropped a heavy load of books on her left foot which has laid her up for days. When my brother in law calls to tell me she’s done this, he shouts, “Do you know what has happened to your mother!!?”

I say, “No. I don’t.”

Ron sounds exasperated and says, ‘I thought not!’ …….and hangs up.

Which leaves me to wonder, ‘what happened to my mother?

I have to call back and have a sister tell me. Ron hadn’t bothered to tell me because once again, Mother hadn’t bothered to mention something of note. She just doesn’t notice things that other people might think are extreme, like strokes and lung cancer, which she has had and which passed by with little comment from her.

Since I’m here at Mom’s we might as well have tea. Mom is in the tea leaf reading ‘biddness’ now. At least, she thinks she is. She is almost 87 years old and has been insisting she needs a job for years now.

A few weeks ago she was asked to read tea leaves at the local Historical Society’s Tea. My sister Barbara helped her pack up her tea pot, leaves and the *tea leaf reading book she wrote, watched her dress in one of her usual odd outfits and drove her to the party.

When I arrived later at the Society, there was Mom, sitting at one of the tables with about six ladies, reading their fortunes in a cup. She was wearing her red velour pants, her blue plastic gardening shoes, a little yellow sweater with spaghetti dried on the breast of it and an old brown jogging jacket. On her head was a magnificent glossy creme colored silk version of a large mixing bowl draped with huge beige flowers, pale netting and pearls.

As I popped into the room, I noticed three tables of women at full attention as Mother was reading one of the guest’s tea cup. The lady appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties, with thick dark hair, full red lips and a giant hatted head full of stuffed spotted birds and colored chiffon.

“Oh…” Mother was saying as she peered intently into the cup, “ummmm…I see a man! He’s a handsome man with dark hair and he has lots of money. I see that you have been going on trips with this man and it’s a very tempestuous, passionate relationship.”

Mother looks up into the woman’s eyes as all the other women gasp delightedly, titter and ‘oh’ and ‘ah.’ The lady in question looks pleased and demure.

Mom stares back into the cup and continues, “yes, he’s very rich and he has a well known position in local  society, and oh my, he’s married!”

The room erupts with startled and happy shrieks and Mother looks pleased. She must be doing a fine job. The guest snatches her cup back and manages a wan smile.

“Let’s read someone else’s cup,” I say as I trot over to Mom.

Everybody wants their cup read. Apparently, Mother has proved herself.

Later, the woman with the married boyfriend asks me if I can bring Mother to read leaves at her next function and someone else from another table tells me she wants my mother to come to her party, too.

Mother is in business. She’s officially in the tea leaf reading business.  Mom tells me later that I am her business agent.

Just what I need. Another job. I can see myself driving an almost 90 year old spaghetti breasted tea leaf reader dressed in gardening shoes and an enormous, flapping, flopping hat, all over the county. Heck, maybe I can get her on Oprah and then I will really have a big job.

*My mother’s book (It’s how to read tea leaves) is “Tea Leaf Tales” by Margaret McWhorter. $10 plus $6.00 Priority Mail.  Mail your request to Margaret at 3601 Main St. Ramona, CA 92065

(You see, I am acting like a business manager, already!)

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P.V.

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YOU WALK ON WATER!! Thanks from the bottom of my heart!!

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*Next Tele-Class is APRIL 26TH, 2009  For Wealth, Prosperity and Abundance.

To read many more testimonials and sign up for the next class, please go to: www.flowdreaming.com

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THE DEAR VENUS SHOW MOVES TO ANOTHER RADIO STATION

and ***changes time*** to 1:00 PM Pacific/4 PM Eastern:

Starting April 7th, The Dear Venus Show will air live, every TUESDAY at 1:00 PM Pacific/4 PM Eastern. www.contacttalkradio.com

Venus is on EVERY WEEK, with fewer commercials, Free On Air Readings, Free Archived Shows, Pod Casts, ITunes, and a winner is chosen each live show for a free 15 minute private phone session with Venus.

The First Show is April 7th, 2009 at 1:00 PM Pacific/4 PM Eastern. See you there???

*THE SHOW CALL IN NUMBER TO TALK TO VENUS FOR THE US AND CANADA IS 1-877-230-3062. International callers, dial your country’s international code for the USA than dial 425 644 5620.

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Offer is valid through March 30th, 2009. After that, null and void

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Mother Reads Venus’ Tea Leaves. Oh My!

Tuesday, February 3rd, 2009

 

My Mother

My Mother (At 86 years old her teeth are real)

 

 

It’s 85 degrees on my mother’s porch. My mother and I are sitting here in lawn chairs, sweltering and sticky even though we have the silver awning rolled out overhead.

My mother is dressed in her loose orange wool pants (worn backwards, I notice) and a long sleeved fleecy top that matches nothing in her eclectic closet. She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. 

“It’s so hot,” she says. “I’m so hot. It’s hard to remember that it’s winter.”

I suggest she take off all the winter clothes she’s wearing and find a pair of shorts. She ambles off to do so.

I’m hot, too. My jeans grab my legs like a pair of hot hands and my short sleeved blouse just isn’t short enough. I reach under it, un-hook my bra, then slide another hand up my sleeve and pull the bra completly off. Ahhhh! Comfort.  I kick off my shoes and sling the bra to dangle over the porch railing. This is how I lose so many of my bras and shoes. I forget where I leave them.

We have a pot of hot steeping tea and two cups on the glass table in front of us. I have come to chat with my mother and apparently, to also have my leaves read. My Mother is a wonderful tea leaf reader. She sees amazing things and the woman is always right. She is spot on and she is nice about it. If she sees something that an ordinary person thinks is disgusting, my mother makes them feel like they are really lucky and indeed, they are.

Mother shuffles out of the house and onto the deck. She’s now wearing her blue see-through plastic garden shoes with socks, a pair of old stripped shorts from the 1950′s and yet another blouse that doesn’t go with anything in her closet.

She sits, ‘kerplunk!’ in the chair next to mine.

“I have to practice reading leaves,” she reminds me, “because you Venus, set me up to read leaves at the Historical Society Tea! I hope I can still remember how to do it. So, I’m going to practice on you, Venus.”

“I’m not worried,” I say. “You have the talent and you can’t lose that, even though you are Profoundly Deaf.”

Mother has been labeled ‘Profoundly Deaf” by the local hearing specialist and she does indeed have a difficult time hearing anything, but she can always hear when I whisper something about her to my sisters! We find this very puzzling, but then my mother can do many things that are out of the ordinary. She could grow gnat wings and fly over the porch railing if it struck her to do so.

Today, we sip our black tea rather quickly because even though we have dressed down it is still darn hot on the porch.

I pour most of the dregs of the tea into my saucer, then swish the leaves around in my cup with the rest of the tea and hand the china cup to my mother. I wait with high anticipation as Mother peers into it. 

Generally, I get a reading that goes something like this: “You have many ideas and are building many things. You’re taking off. You have some new job idea. There’s lots of money in your cup!”

Sometimes I get a long silence and then an, “Ah Oh.”

That’s when I start to sweat.

I used to get more exciting cups, filled with lovers and sex appeal but I have toned down a bit through the years and generally have my thoughts and actions now on so called ‘Higher Enterprises.’ Duller maybe, but higher.

Today, my mother slings me a zinger.

“Well. There you are Venus. Riding a wild horse! And look! There’s a big wedding bell over your head and you’re trying to get away from it. It’s like you want to get married but you really don’t. You’re still too wild to marry some man. You’re a wild one and none of them have been able to tame you.”

Gulp. Bam. My mother hits the truth of the matter. 

I haven’t been married for at least twenty-five years. I’ve been asked many times but I never can say ‘yes.’ Sometimes I think I want to, but I just can’t bring myself to choke out an ‘OK, good idea.’

Even lately, strangely enough,without dating them, I have had several marriage proposals and I think, ‘My, these are darling men and now that I am older and getting even older, wouldn’t it be nice to be all settled down and have a secure life and no more dating ever again?’

But, I just can’t do it. I try, but I just can’t do it. Maybe if I could marry two of them? Or three? That might work.

Even when I was a little kid I always thought I wanted to have two husbands. At once.

Or, maybe I can work out a deal where I know several or more men who adore me and I can see all of them and that will be OK with each of them?

My grandmother did that. My father’s mother was a model in New York with a waist that a man could put his hand’s around. She dyed her hair red and smoked cigarettes when only ‘bad’, ‘wild’ women did those things. She married my grandfather, a wealthy man, thirty-five years older than she was. 

My father remembers how when he was a little kid, “Momma was almost kidnapped by White slavers. We were walking down a street,” he used to tell us, “when a long, black limo pulled up beside us and a woman and two men jumped out. They grabbed Momma and tried to drag and push her into the car! Momma and I were screaming and screaming and Momma was fighting and somehow she was able to slip out of her long mink coat and she got away. We both ran screaming down the street. Momma always said it was the White Slavers trying to kidnap her because she was so beautiful!”

Momma always echoed my father’s story, with a “Yes! It was the White Slavers and they used to kidnap beautiful women and those women would never been seen again!”

Momma also had a constant and steady round of lovers. She preferred doctors and she would move them into the house with her, my father and his father, Poppa. My father said he could never understand why Poppa put up with Momma’s lovers, especially living in the same house, but he did.

When I knew her in her 70′s, Poppa had died and she was married to a much younger man, a fellow with slick black hair, who we called Uncle Bob.

When it appealed to her, Grandma would hop up on our kitchen table and do the grinding Tahitian Hula, the one where you bump your hips in mad gyrations. She also liked to belt out a song called ‘Sam, Sam The Lavatory Man’, but no matter how much we kids begged, she would never finish the song. “Your father won’t let me,” she would say piously.

Poppa had an interesting background, too. His father and his many uncles were Real Gun Slingers. They lived and died by the gun. They also had a habit, in their 80′s, I’m told, of leaping onto their horses. This is how my great grandfather eventually met his death. Close to 90, he leaped onto his horse, miscalculated and flew completely over the horse, hit the ground and broke his hip. The break eventually killed him.

I’m thinking about my genetics as I reflect on my current tea leaf reading. I look at my mother. Her mother didn’t marry until she was thirty-five. 

“Why should I get married?” my grandmother said to me. “Just because women are supposed to get married?”

When she did marry, she married a younger, very handsome man, (and younger men weren’t being done at the time) and then she drove a model T across the country, wearing jeans, (which also wasn’t being done by young women at the time!)

Now, I sigh. I think my way of thinking is just in my blood. It may be genetic and it’s hard to change the genes. It’s impossible, actually, to change a person’s Real Nature which is why, by the way, women should stop trying to change men. It’s not possible and it just wears one out. Give it up now if you’re guilty and you’ll save yourself some suffering that you don’t need.

My mother looks over at me and maybe she is reading my mind. We do that in this family.

She is trying to soothe me.

“I think you might eventually get married but you would have to feel the same way about some man, that these various men feel about you.”

She looks at me; peers at me, really.

“It’s getting kind of late in the day,” I say.

“Well, what about me?!” Mother says. “It’s a lot later in the day for me than it is for you.”

And, then she rifts off into why she doesn’t want to marry The Old Friend David or Skip The Much Younger Man or the Suitor Who Just Died, which I remind her is a given, that it’s to late to marry that one..

And as for You Out There; my friends. Think about it; man or woman, what is your Real Nature? 

When we’re young, most of us tend to go along with what our culture says we should do and be and think, which means that we’re sometimes locked  inside a little family house, intently blowing on hot oatmeal for the kids when we should be sitting outside in a long green field, naked, wearing big ruby necklaces and eating crepes while someone plays the violin for our amusement.

I think it’s time I just finally accept my genes and My Nature and see if I can ride the Wild Horse forever, perhaps just always a pace ahead of the ringing wedding bell.

Or not?

Please go to the COMMENT’S SECTION and tell us this: If you could just have it YOUR WAY, how would you do it? I mean, really? How would you do it? Take all the rules off your life and really look and see who is there and what it wants. Hey! Your sufferings may be over!! Maybe you have been suffering all this time because you have been trying to live your life in opposition to your Real Nature and you didn’t even know it.

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*FLOWDREAMING TELECLASSES FOR *LOVE AND *MONEY! I will be doing MY MOTHER’S LOVE MOJO during the Feb 14th LOVE  class. The Money and Prosperity Class is Feb. 7th.  To read about the classes and how they work to BRING GOOD THINGS INTO YOUR LIFE…or to sign up for a teleclass, please go to www.flowdreaming.com. Space is very limited.

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*And yet ANOTHER CHANCE TO WIN A FREE 15 MINTUE PHONE SESSIONS WITH VENUS.

During each live radio show I will be pulling at random, a name from my list of email addresses that you have sent me via my website. (See ‘Free sessions and More’) My show is “The Dear Venus Show,” every other Weds at 9AM Pacific/Noon eastern. You can listen to the show in the Archives BUT the offer will be valid for only one week from the time of the live show.

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FOR INFORMATION ABOUT PHONE SESSIONS WITH VENUS  please see:  www.godisalwayshappy.com  and look for “Rates” on the Home Page

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*WINNER OF TODAY’S BLOG DRAWING; A FREE 15 MINUTE PHONE SESSION WITH VENUS IS:  *Niki Giannini. Offer valid through Feb.9th, 2009. After that, null and void.


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Venus’ Paintings to Bring You Love and Happiness

Saturday, December 13th, 2008

venus-flower-art “LADIES AT THE BALL” painted by venus andrecht  www.godisalwayshappy.com

LOOK AT THIS PAINTING TO BRING HAPPINESS AND LOVE INTO YOUR LIFE.

Hello my friends.

This is a picture I painted. I call it:  “LADIES AT THE BALL” (Can you see their faces?)

An art friend of mine, Susan, is helping me learn how to put photos on my blog. We started with one of my paintings.

If I get this all figured out, my plan is to put photos of my 86 year old mother, my siblings, my dog Bob and others in my life, on the blog. Many of you seem to have a vital interest in some of the people I talk about so I thought it would be fun to occasionally show you what things and people actually look like in my life.

When I paint, I always attempt to put lots of light, abundance, healing energy, love and happiness into my pictures. People tell me they like to have them in their homes because it makes them feel better. Hopefully, you will get some of this good feeling off the photo on this page.

Maybe my next attempt will to be to make an art blog….I’m thinking about it.

As Susan was leaving for home she told me to immediately put another photo on here to make sure I can do it on my  own. I am concerned that if I try it without her, I may lose this one. So, Susan, I will try another one later.

XO Venus

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WINNER OF A FREE 15 MINUTE PHONE SESSION WITH VENUS: kandice zimbleman Offer valid through Dec 15, 2008. After that, null and void

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A Startling Message from the Universe

Thursday, May 22nd, 2008

My daughter Summer, is upset.
She says, “I am not normal! Tell them I’m not normal!”

I just told her that someone who listens to us on the radio and reads my blog, wrote to me very affectionately, “Your Mom, your granddaughter Lexi and you are so weird but Summer is right there in the middle and she is the only normal one.”

Summer almost has tears in her eyes.
“I’m not normal, Mother.”

This surprises me. She has always been the serious counterbalance to my extravagant nature. I have learned to step with care around her with all my high excitement and outrageous opinions and actions.
She has never liked me to talk about her or her life, to others, so I am cautious.

I think Lexi has wrought a desire in Summer to be more like us. Lexi is five and as Summer says, because of her brilliance and her fiery, passionate, dramatic and emotional nature, 90 percent of her time has to be given to Lexi.
As my mother says, ‘Lexi is just like you, Venus. Only more so.’

I believe that Lexi has finally worn Summer down and battered her up so much that Summer has decided to give up and join us. Why not? It’s hard being in the middle.

As Summer says, “With Lexi, I feel like I am raising my mother! And, you are on one side of me and Lexi is on the other.”

Today, Summer is at my house with Lexi and her two year old brother, Loch ‘the perfect child, the boy with the curly, wild and white blonde hair, the botticelli angel with the beautiful smile.
He’s the two year old who thinks before he acts, who listens when we say ‘no,’ the child who is balanced and calm and in love with beauty and people. He’s the boy who naps for 2-3 hours a day, goes to bed at 7PM and plays happily in his crib for an hour in the morning after he wakes up.’

Totally, the opposite in almost every way to his sister who races full-on all day and goes to bed at midnight; if her folks are lucky. Lexi is the girl who plays with the boys at pre-school because the girls can’t match her speed and frenetic energy.

Today, Lexi has been a dog for the past hour or two. She is racing around the floor on all fours, coming over to occasionally lick our legs and beg for attention.

I have fixed her a plate of scrambled eggs, catsup and mixed fruit. Lexi doesn’t like to eat until 8:30 at night when she becomes ravenous, so we wheedle and deedle with her all day, trying to get protein into her. We have given up any pretense of pretending that she is a normal child who can sit at the table with us for a regular meal. We have given up on silverware, too. Her fingers work better except when she is a dog and must be fed by hand.

Every time she wings by us, barking and yapping, her mother or I shove some egg into her mouth or a piece of fruit.

Eventually, I get up from the table and wander off to my bedroom. I open and step into my closet. I’m changing my shirt, calling out something to Summer when she finds me and comes into the closet with me. We’re chatting earnestly about something when I notice that Summer is trying to shove a large chunk of pineapple into my mouth. I open obediently, then come to my senses, and shout, “What are you doing?”

Summer blinks, comes out of some kind of trance and says, “….Oh! Oh! I was on a mission, looking for Lexi, I was going to put this pineapple in her mouth when I heard you chatting from the closet and came in and I guess…I guess, well you know how it is when you’re on autopilot? I was just following through!”

This is so ridiculous that we start laughing madly and of course, I drop to my knees where I can laugh even more.

“This proves you aren’t exactly normal, Summer!”

I think she feels better when she hears that.

I’m now sufficiently dressed and we’re all in the car, zipping across town to visit the semi-feral kitties at my friend Carol’s house. This is our second visit. Summer and the kids are getting to know he kitties so they can take two home when the cats are old enough.

Let me amend the semi-feral cat statement. They are more feral then we thought, even though they live half in Carol’s garage and half in her laundry room. How do I know this?

Because of a piercing scream that comes from Summer after we have been with the kitties for about ten minutes.

“It bit me! It bit me! The little, beige cat bit me!”

I saunter over to take a look. Ummm. Summer’s bleeding like Red Rose in the fairy tale who was stuck by thorns. She’s holding up a middle finger which gushes with blood like a small fountain. Summer’s mouth has formed an ’0′ shape and her eyes are rolling like pin balls in a tin cup.

This is where I am going to tell you that Summer is not normal. She has a phobia. She got it from me, who got it from my father who got it from his mother. We are nervous. But, only about certain diseases. We’ve had to specialize, otherwise there wouldn’t be time to have other things in our lives.

Summer is afraid of Lexi being sick. She is afraid of Lexi’s high fevers and mysterious rashes.
She is afraid of cat bites and rabies and cat scratch fever and stepping on rusty nails.

“I think it’s time to go home, Summer,” I say.

We’ve washed the finger up with soap and peroxide and bound the middle finger in a big wad of white kleenex. She holds it straight up in the air with blood melting through it.

I think I may have to carry her to the car but she makes it and we even remember to take the kids.

Summer is driving, but not so well. She has a glaze over her eyes and I know she is thinking, ‘The cat has rabies, I’m going to die or maybe get a horrible, horrible infection and this has ruined my day.’

She stares ahead at the country road we are on and creeps the car along.

“You will be fine,” I say.

No response. She drives with the tissued, bloody finger held straight up off the steering wheel.

What can I say? I know what phobias are like. They take you over. They ruin your life. They turn you into a ball of stupid terror.

We inch along. Finally, we come to the turn off to my street. A dark, dusty car roars past us on my side and the man gives Summer The Finger.

“That man just gave you The Finger!” I say.

“I don’t care,” Summer says. “He’s been following me all the way home.”

Ah. No wonder.

We’re in the house now and I’ve got Summer sitting on my beautiful blue, very hip and very uncomfortable new couch.

I have given her a special medicine for all occasions, a glass of dark red wine.

“You’ll feel better, soon,” I say.

“I won’t,” Summer says. “This has ruined my day. Why would this happen!? What could possibly be the reason for this?”

She holds up her middle finger twisted with kleenex, for me to see.
She is giving me The Finger!

Suddenly, it all comes clear.

“I know why it happened!” I shout. “I know why! I know why! You’re giving me The Finger! You got your middle finger bit. The man in the old car gave you The Finger! It’s the Universe saying…”F… IT! F… IT!
All this stuff is just not worth worrying about! Give up all your worries and your fears. Give it all The Finger! Oh Wow! How Cool!”

Damn. I’m a genius. Or, maybe the Universe is and I’m a good interpreter.

Summer is so shocked, that she bursts out laughing.
“Do you really think that’s it?” she says.

“Of course it is! How much more clear could this Sign From The Universe Be?!”

We go hysterical with laughter.

“You’re right,” Summer says. “I’m not going to worry about this cat bite anymore. I think the Universe is right. I got the message twice, bang, bang. I think it’s time for me to say that about a lot of things in my life. Just F… It.”

And, the Universe,” I say, choking with glee, “found a shocking way to tell you!”
Har Har Har Har.

And we take that red wine and we toast the Universe and thank It for showing Summer what to do and with such clarity and in a way that she could see it!

addendum: Summer went to the doctor and he says she’s fine and she won’t get rabies. And, she didn’t get an infection, either, so let’s hear it for the Universe, Hip, Hip, Hooray. Give All Your Annoyances ‘The Finger!’

*THE WINNER OF THE RANDOM DRAWING FOR A FREE 15 MINUTE PHONE SESSION WITH VENUS IS: Len Roberts (Offer valid through May 24th, 2008)

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What the Beings Say About Manifesting

Thursday, February 14th, 2008

November 20th, 2007, I was at my daughter Summer’s house, baby-sitting my two little grandkids. While one was sleeping and the other was occupied, I sat down in a puffy chair and began reading a book about the Universe.
This caused me to wander off somewhere in my head as I began thinking about the Scientific view of the Universe.

Shortly, The Beings began talking to me. I snatched up some paper and began jotting down what I heard and saw. All the words in parenthesis are mine. ( )
(For more about The Beings, please see the end of this article.)

………………………………………………….

“Time was created all at once and We move-or appear to move-in Time.

We follow the path of least resistance-it takes a force to manifest ‘Other’.

This is why God Awake can manifest completely; while God Un-aware/Un-awake, moves little.

The more Aware, the more the move; the ‘Move’ or manifestation (which shows as happening is) outside the ‘Path’ or ‘Curve’ of least resistance.

The mind can indeed, move faster then the speed of light. It follows another formula. It is another force, (currently) unthought of.

There are indeed, many Universes…not One. A ‘jell’ holds Them in place. Like jello, as You say.

Yes, the so-called ‘Future’ can be changed. But, the Future is not the ‘Future.’ It already ‘Is.’ Everything already Is.

As We become more God Aware, We make more conscious choices from Our personal buffet. Otherwise, We do follow the path of least resistance, which is in fact our God Plan; The Plan that We as God Aware have set for Our course in this Experience.

All is well and is always well, because Your God (Your God Awake Self) has set the Course.

Part of Your Personal Course may be, indeed, making choices of one thing over another, or others. You but think You (currently) set the course and choose the outcome. Why else would a wish or a desire occur to or be shown to You? It is a possibility within Your Course.

You become above The Law when You are fully Awake to ‘Yourself’ as God the Creator.”

(I ask the Beings, ‘Can I then surrender to God’s Will for the most pleasant course or outcome?’)

“You can.”

(‘So, if I choose not to battle or strive for attainment of what I think I want, I can still have a pleasant life?’)

“If You are Awake enough You can. You must be somewhat Awake in order to surrender to Yourself.”

(‘Then would You say that an uneducated or ignorant person or a person of limited intelligence could also surrender?’)

“Indeed. ‘The meek shall inherit the earth.’ The simple minds are often most able to see clearly, unfettered by the extraneous.”

(‘I feel a push-pull in my life. It’s a question of shall I surrender or shall I attempt to manifest everything I think I want.’)

“Try it both ways.

What could be the harm in relaxing into Your Path; into Your Course?

When You are more and more Awake, manifesting will lose it’s struggle. You will see clearly and know and ‘It’ will happen. You will see rightly.

Now, We do not always, or even often, see rightly. We think We know what we need and want, but the result often brings hardship or a sense of ‘Is this all there is?’”

………………………..
To learn more about The Beings and to read and listen to what They say, please go to www.godisalwayshappy.com and click on the information about Them. As They said to me once, “We gave You the ‘Dick and Jane Version of Life.’ (Dick and Jane being the first grade Readers from the 50′s.) The first 2 CDs in the series of “God Is Always Happy” are available at www.amazon.com

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