Heading east out of my driveway this morning, I stopped to wipe the light film from inside the Jeep's windshield. I was nervous, but in a good way. Finding a good psychic is much like finding a good doctor. Once you have them in your grasp, you never let them go. Like the downbeat of a song, my tires rolled along the road with a rhythmic vibration. I gazed often at the clouds in the sky, and let my mind drift.
As you may already know, I drive a Jeep Wrangler. Let me tell you, keeping a solid 80 mph speed while traversing down the highway in a Wrangler is much like running with an open umbrella in a wind storm. But I’m use to it. As the tempo from my tires increased, I began to scan carefully for the tucked away noses of police cars. They hide in the bushes, much like the deer.
I’ve always enjoyed the type of thoughts conjured when behind the wheel or sitting on my Harley. There is something about these two forces that magically opens my mind.
Sitting across from my psychic, I attempted to apply a thin layer of cement over my heart, just in case she mentions my father. I’m not ready yet, and I’ve only paid for a half an hour. I don’t want use up my time bawling like a baby. Very little was said about him, except that he's in harmony with his surroundings. At this point, that's all I need to know. But a great deal was said about other things – things I needed to know, and needed to hear. Stepping back into the Jeep, I sighed. I wouldn’t believe what she told me if it weren’t for the fact that she tells me things she, nor anyone else, should know.
A visit with her goes much like this: The nervous, weary visitor sits in the floral rattan chair approximately five feet away from the dainty psychic. The visitor stares at psychic. Psychic takes a deep breath, then much like a double action revolver, unloads bullet after bullet of facts about the person’s life. Visitor is stunned. Considering no words were exchanged prior, all color is drained from the face of the visitor. Visitor leaves with goosebumps covering their arms. Dainty psychic smiles and waves.
I like this sort of thing. I think it’s the stuff of life. It’s the chipotle pepper to my already pleasant tasting dinner. Of course, there are times when she says things that make us both cringe. But they are things I need to know. She states straight up that she won’t delve into the negative; which - of course - causes me to immediately wonder what she’s not telling me. I don’t ask, and she doesn’t say. It’s better that way. Her visits are meant only to help nudge me out of a rut or provide the small spiritual boost I need.
There are people who don’t believe in psychics. And that’s okay with me. There were people who didn’t believe in the possibility of the economic collapse we just saw - until it happened. There is data that proves psychic ability, and there is data that points to the contrary. I rarely rule my life by data or reports. If I do, my knowledge is forever limited. It would be much like - saying something doesn't exist - then the equipment is created, and it is proven that it does exist. After which, I declare I believe. When in fact, "it" existed prior to our discovering it. It was there all the time. I don't like restraints, mental, physical or spiritual. I’m of the mindset that all things are possible, regardless of whether I know the how, where or when of it. I find life to be more interesting that way.
Sliding back into my Jeep, I began the trek home. My mind buzzed again, but this time slower. I contemplated my next steps. I contemplated this blog. I decided to keep moving ahead with it, to keep using it for the therapy it provides. Instead of resting my head on the dark leather sofa in a therapists office, and talking to the ceiling – I will stare out the window in front of me, and let my fingers say what floats through my mind while my dogs sleep peacefully at my feet. My mind won’t ever be empty, but with each blog, it gets a little lighter.
Sane
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