March 17, 2013

     “What is my purpose?” Diana asked while her hands lay gently over mine, during her reading. “I mean, what am I supposed to be doing?”

      I wish I had the answer to, what I believe is, a commonly misunderstood notion that we have a single purpose. In my experience, there is no one purpose or single karmic intent instead, there are many. We get to choose how we will master our soul intent which can shift and change as we go through life. Further, most of us live completing some of our intent, without consciously knowing all of the parts which is why judgment is never helpful.

      One of my clients confided something she’d been told by a psychic during a reading. “My guides are angry” she said, “because I’m not listening to them and doing what I’m supposed to.” Self-judgment rang in her voice and my heart went out to her.

     I have never received guidance or information that suggests in any way that our guides or angels or highest-self, have any judgment, period. Never. We judge ourselves. I think it is deeply ingrained in us that there is right or wrong or good and bad. We believe that we have a hidden purpose and that if we don’t find and fulfill it, somehow we have failed.

     To find an inner purpose is important and I do encourage you to align with authentic-self so you may discover a direction or path that allows you to uncover one of yours. How you do that is again, your choice.

     Personally, I define purpose as a thing I do which brings me joy. When I realized an ability to give readings, I made a commitment to practice, study and to walk my talk. I do this because as a result, I am able to offer a clearer and open channel to receive information and helping others in this way gives me happiness. So perhaps the question is, “what brings you joy?” When you identify that and do it you will find your purpose.

      It doesn’t matter what it is. I know a lady that makes cookies for school bake sales. She has no children in school but she loves baking treats that benefit others and I’m willing to bet that through her delicious endeavor, she finds purpose.

     So, seek guidance through meditation, prayer, angels, church or some sort of self-reflection but find your joy, practice it and maybe share with others and in that, I believe you will find purpose.

March 10,2013

                                                 Seeking Guidance

     What am I going to do? I think as I flop like a boneless fish on my couch. I feel like an island floating to nowhere. Sheesh, this sucks, my brain informs me. I hoist myself up, head into the kitchen and pour myself a drink while I cook. This does not help my need for clarity.

    It’s remarkable and maybe just human nature that we over think an issue and bury ourselves in mental debris, leaving us far away from what we feel. As a result we don’t connect with our inner-self, god consciousness or highest source. It doesn’t matter at all what we name it, what is of interest is that we separate from it, even when we know better.

     I began to feel un-moored and adrift after publishing my book. For the first time in a couple of decades, I had no idea what to do next. It was like graduating from school with no plans for the future. All you can hear are crickets.

     I’d diligently mailed out dozens of books in hopes for promotions that went unanswered. I was ambivalent about the book thinking, what if it can be better? Maybe it needs a publisher’s edit or more story development or more this and more that? And my mind uncharacteristically rambled on and on. 

      Busy with readings I’d enter my office every day to meditate and center myself so I can align with guidance and be of service to others helping them along their path. Somehow it didn’t occur to me to ask for direction for myself so instead, I waffled and I wane.  

     Worse, was knowing what came next but distrusting what I knew. Sound familiar?

     No matter how much we practice working with our intuition, meditating, affirming a clear and open channel, we are in this thing called, the human condition and sometimes we simply forget that all the information we need is available to us. We need only to ask and align with our authentic self and wait.

     If you struggle with your process, you’re not alone. It takes practice and trust and sometimes a gentle reminder. For me it meant creating a clear space, which sadly didn’t include alcohol. I do enjoy an adult beverage from time to time, but to really find my clarity required quiet meditation and asking the Angels and my higher-self for assistance.

     Fortunately all fronts delivered and I’m no longer throwing myself around.

Thank you self.

March 3, 2013

                                                         Transformation

          Her head was wrapped in a scarf, covered in tiny flowers protecting her bald scalp. Head tipped back and mouth wide open, I could see the gentle arch in her teeth that probably resulted in a slight overbite. A sound of joy and relief rose from her belly and flew into the sunshine filled air. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed into the cell phone she gripped in her hand. “Well, I just knew it! Thank you so much! For everything really”…. Her voice quieted some and I kept walking through the park veering away from the stranger on the bench. “Wow” I thought, and I knew she’d just come through a life changing illness. She’d experienced transformation.

 A quote from the book Illusions by Richard Bach reads, “What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.”     

     What is in the meaning of the word transformation? Is it a subtle shift in belief, a crushing change of life style or a new direction entirely?

     Most of us experience at least one transformation in our lifetimes. When I see transformation energetically, in a reading for instance, the energy is always progressive, multi-layered and beautiful. To say it’s magnificent and fascinating doesn’t do it justice. The energy can look like a tsunami of moving patterns traveling hard and fast or it can be a more gentle, steady flow, both resulting in irrevocable change.

     In some cases our transformation is forced through an act or event we may or may not see coming like sickness, death, divorce, birth, fire or an accident seemingly out of our control, and suddenly we find ourselves in a severe cycle of change whether we like it or not. And in those instances we may go with the changes or resist them with all that we have, refusing to comply.

     In other circumstance, the shift is a result of a conscious decision to transform who we are, what we want, where we are going and how we are getting there and frequently, who we are going with.  Either way, transformation can be exhilarating, magical, terrifying and earth shattering, scattering our existence and all we have known into the wind.

     I think transformation is a gift even though it may not seem so in the beginning. And regardless of how it manifests it gives more than it takes if we allow it. If transformation finds you, embrace it and hold on tight and see where it can take you.

February 24, 2013

                                                Whose voice is that anyway?

    Minty toothpaste slipped from my lips in a pasty glob hitting the sink with a satisfying splat. Glancing at my own reflection I thought, you are so ugly. Suddenly, I recognized why I’d avoided mirrors! I didn’t want to look at myself because my self-talk told me I was ugly every time! I was stunned by my discovery.

      Have you ever wondered whose voice runs in our head like a ditty we despise but can’t stop? For some of us, the debilitating speak is so old, so common, that we accept the hateful thoughts as our own. 

          After that morning I couldn’t ignore the negative voice than looped in my mind. You better be careful, I’d think, you’ll make the wrong decision. The crippling thoughts ran wild.  I should have known better, I’m such an idiot. I don’t try hard enough, I’m not pretty, I’m too fat, I’m not smart enough, nobody likes me, I’m a crappy mother, I will always be alone, I’m a loser, I will always be broke, and the fearful negative talk went on and on.

     Where do we adopt these limiting thoughts that create feelings of un-worthiness? More importantly, why do we give them power? Maybe we will never discover the origins of our self-hate and I don’t think it matters. What does matter is to recognize that WE are in control of the self-talk. We don’t have to listen to the nasty un-supportive voice, we can replace it with the, I love myself unconditionally voice!

     One of my favorite teachers of this positive way of thinking is Louise L. Hay. She wrote a book decades ago called, “You Can Heal Your Life.” It’s a must read.  I gave the book to a dear friend of mine who kept it for fourteen years before she was ready to read it. When she became exhausted with her un-loving thoughts and negative beliefs, she began to silence her fearful self-talk and replace the doom and gloom predictions with, “I trust in the process of life” and “I am worthy of love.”

     Since we are all individuals and resonate to different things, it might not be a book that shifts your inner-speak and that’s ok. But, if you start today with one loving thought about yourself and banish the negative one, you will begin a shift. If you stay with the decision that a negative thought will be immediately replaced by a loving thought, your life will change and we will have begun our transformation.

    And if we refuse the hateful self-talk and allow only positive self-speak, we strengthen our inner voice one thought at a time. I love myself, I trust in the flow of life, I give and receive unconditional love….

February 16, 2013

                                                  TWO EARS

     “God gave you two ears and one mouth so you can listen twice as much as you talk,” said the creepy church lady who smelled like oatmeal. She leaned toward me, starring me down with eyes that bugged from their sockets and said, “God loves a good listener and if you pay attention, you might learn somthin others missed cause they were too busy talkin.”

     I have to say, the woman made an impression on me and I thought about what she said, hearing her voice ring in my mind while I blathered on about nothing. It didn’t however keep me from talking to anyone who’d listen nor was I able to heed her advice for a very long time.

      I think about her now when I’m listening to someone go on and on wishing they’d just make their point or when I rudely interrupt because I want to make mine. Two ears, I tell myself, two ears! Because what I’ve come to learn is that the oatmeal lady was right, if I listen twice as much as I talk, I do learn something.

     Another thing about two ears is that sometimes people really need a listener, another person who really hears them, and then something special transpires between the giver and the receiver. It’s a unique connection that only comes from letting someone talk, and their understanding that you heard them, thereby witnessing their strife or love or epic event and that they’re not alone.

     And for me the best part is that when you listen, you discover the very core of a person and you become part of that and you are made sweeter somehow, richer than you were before and a part of you blossom’s in the acknowledgment of who they are and who you are together. And if you’re really lucky and you hang on, you uncover something about yourself and it’s a surprise gift that you didn’t expect so it becomes a treasure to truly behold.  Two ears, I tell myself, two ears.

February 10, 2013

                                              Life's Mirrors

     Life mirrors are everywhere and are the single most powerful reflections we have of ourselves. Frequently we deny any resemblance when faced with our reflection in another person’s behavior which, we judge negatively, but look a little closer and you might just see yourself.

     Don’t recoil and shake your head saying, “No, no I am nothing like that!” while holding your hand aloft to block the image staring back at you. Lean in and consider, am I in there?

     When do we know that we are staring into the face of universal likeness? The answer is simple, when we judge it. We see ourselves in everyone we know and those we don’t know too! Our most common image is delivered by family members. Oh boy, I can already hear the groaning.  

     The behavior we shrink away from holds some truth for us and an opportunity to heal our judgment. Life mirrors aren't always an exact replication of ourselves but, rest assured, we are in there.

          For instance, seeing someone lie might rub us the wrong way so we reject the person who lies perceiving that they can’t be trusted. I’m not suggesting you’re a liar but perhaps you are dishonest with yourself in some way or you've been dishonest in the past and have not forgiven yourself? Or say someone you love can be nasty and disrespectful; again maybe you’re neither of those things to others, is it possible that your inner-voice can be self-punishing and lack self-respect?

     There are those reflections that are like a fun-house mirror revealing a distorted version of ourselves. In those cases, the likeness we see can be an overstated version of a carefully hidden behavior or fear that we harbor which is reflected in a grossly inflated manner so that we can see it more clearly. Exaggerated mirror images can be harder to figure out.

     A complete stranger exploded in anger toward me one afternoon and I thought “wow, what an angry person” and my inner voice said “what are you angry about? Where do you hide your furry?” My initial response was “I’m not angry with anyone.” When I looked more closely within, I found that I was perturbed and I hadn't acknowledged it. I realized the woman was holding up a giant mirror for me to see my own unresolved issue. Cool right?

     In that case the mirror was straight forward but they aren't always so clear. What we can be sure of is that our reflections are everywhere shining back at us through others and if we stop judging them, we have an opportunity to learn and grow. For me, mirrors are an interesting way to see myself and what’s hidden just beneath the surface and I’m grateful for the chance to see my own unique reflection.

February 1, 2013

                                                    Where do we find self-esteem?

     The nurse delivered my newborn freshly scrubbed and wrapped in a pink receiving blanket like a little hors d’oeuvre. Her breath came in quick huffs through tiny puckered lips delivering a scent of innocence that filled my airways. Lifting her to my face, I ushered hushed and reverent promise’s that only she could hear.

     “I promise,” I whispered, “I will love you so much that you’ll never feel worthless. I will tell you every day how smart, beautiful and capable you are. I’m going to give you self-esteem so you’ll be strong and never feel bad about yourself, so you can love yourself.”

    Her sweet lips parted lifting on one side like a smile of acknowledgment. We were both naïve enough to believe in my assurances.

     When I was young, I thought that boys didn’t struggle from low self-esteem. I don’t know why I believed this myth. Maybe it was because males seemed more powerful and in my ignorance, I falsely perceived aggression and power as self-confidence or worth.

     What I couldn’t know then was that you can’t love someone enough to give them self-esteem. No matter how much we’d like it to be true, it just isn’t. Self-worth or self-esteem is a gift we must each unwrap within ourselves.

     Don’t get me wrong, love helps. Love buoy’s, love heals, love transforms, but we must discover this love within ourselves, about ourselves and for ourselves. Even though our parents, siblings, lovers, friends and others proclaim their love for us, somehow, it’s not enough to build our self-esteem.

     Lack of self-worth does not discriminate. It can be found lacking in the rich, poor, educated, ignorant, CEOs, maids, males, females, old folks, and young people, in every culture and on and on. Perhaps, it’s a soul thing. You know, a lesson we all agree we must learn together and alone.

      For some, it remains elusive from beginning to end. Others discover the gift within themselves along the journey of life. The really lucky find it early and some commit to helping others find their own. I found mine in stages. First, I stopped judging myself and others, made room for forgiveness and began to let a little love and compassion in each day. Slowly I saw my own worth and I learned to love and I held on with everything I had.

     There are no shortages of teachers who want to show us a path to ourselves. Tony Robbins, Louise  Hay, Marianna Williamson, Debbie Ford, Deepak Chopra, Wayne Dyer, Jack Canfield  just to name a few. There are countless churches with varied religions who promise a path to self-discovery and love through God.  And you know, I think “all the roads lead to Paris,” the question is which road will you take to discover yours? 

January 23, 2013

                                       Why do we doubt ourselves?

     “It was the middle of the day and I was vacuuming,” Isabel said, sliding back into the smooth leather chair. Her brown eyes revealed a childlike honesty that lit with delight. “And out of nowhere,” she went on, “I could smell my Dad. I mean, I know he’s dead but it was totally his smell. I’m sure of it. And then, I felt him standing right there; I swear to god, he was right next to me."  Tears quivered at the edge of her lash before spilling over and she clasped her hands together swallowing her emotion. Sadness rested in her expression but in a hopeful tone she said, “Weird, right? Do you think it was him?”

     I can’t help but wonder why we don’t trust what we know? Do we question what we can’t see or what we are told is not possible? Why do we doubt ourselves?

     After my mother’s death in 1991, a year passed and I hadn't felt her presence,  dreamed of her or even caught a glimpse of her from the corner of my eye. I worried that all I’d come to accept and believe about the transition we call “death” may be wrong. The only presence I’d felt happened a week after her passing and now, a year later, I questioned it. Had I made it up?

      The car’s window was cracked just enough for cold gusts of January air to mingle with heat blowing at my feet. I found myself remembering the moments before my mother’s body gave up. Emotion drowned me in a waterless flood collapsing my airways. I sucked in oxygen heavy with sadness and loss. Suddenly, my car filled with a vibration that felt like electricity. A feeling that I instantly recognized as joy pounded through my body like an adrenaline rush. I couldn't keep the smile from my lips.

     My heart pumped in surprise and I felt my mother everywhere. “I’m free” she said in my mind. “I’m happy Nita. Don’t cry, because, I’m here.”

     But as fast as she came, she was gone again and I was alone. I knew what I’d felt was indeed my mother and my body had shaken with the experience of it yet, as time passed, I doubted.

     In the spring of 1992, a year and four months after my mother’s death, she came to me while I slept. I knew I wasn't dreaming, and yet my body was asleep. She appeared in my altered state as she’d been before she became ill with the cancer that defeated her. She looked ethereal, not a solid figure and had a bright shimmering light that seemed to embody her.  No words were spoken but I heard what she said.  “You see that I am fine. I am completing my life path on dream plane.”

     “What does that mean?” I asked.

     “It means that I am working with the people that I have unfinished business with in their dreams. Look,” she said, and pointed away. I followed where she indicated and saw a crowd of people, some I recognized and some I didn’t. “It is our choice,” she continued, “How we complete our life path and this is how I’m completing mine.”

     “What took you so long to come to me?” I asked. “ I've been waiting for you but you never came.”

“I’ve been busy” she said.

     “Can you tell me what death is like so I can explain it to others?”

“Death is like riding a bus. A lot of people get on, but everyone gets off at a different stop.”

     “I can’t tell people that. People won’t believe me.” I said feeling exasperated. “Can’t you tell me something better?”

     My mother didn't respond to that and I felt her serenity float between us. I changed tactics.

    “Was that really you in my car that day?” I asked.  And then something extraordinary happened. In my dream I saw myself lift swiftly upward, and in my bed where I slept, in the same moment it seemed my body lifted from the mattress. The electric energy that I’d experienced in my car that day, now saturated my body and I heard her say,

     “Never question yourself. Believe what you know.” I woke up just as air huffed against my neck and face as the sheet fell back to my chest.

      Several years passed before I ran into a previous co-worker of my mothers. His name was Al Choo. After we embraced Al said, “We miss your mom. I think about her often.” His skin carried a light tan of summer and his black hair, peppered with silver fell toward Asian eyes that glistened with tears. He said, “I never got to say good-bye to her. I had a dream about her though and she told me she was happy and told me good-bye.

December 2012

News from Windows of Light

In This Issue

The Knowing Special Thanks

Quick Links

Al Vitaro

Beverly Kidd


                                 The Knowing Awake in the Dark

THE KNOWING Available on Amazon. in digital book form and coming soon in print. If you're in a book club, join our contest to win a visit from me and a group reading at your club. Updates and information will be posted on my new website, nitalapinski.com

                                    Christmas Miracles

     The steering wheel burned like a hot coal from the nights cold freeze beneath my palms. I pressed a clenched fist to my lips blowing warm air in hopes of chasing the icy numbness away. It was 10:13 p.m. and I'd just finished work.     Anxiety slithered in my stomach like a snake. It was Christmas Eve in 1983, and I hadn't purchased one gift for my kids. My roommate Susan, had taken her toddler son David, along with my two and bought a tree. Together they'd hung light's and decorated. Susan placed a few gifts beneath it for my children. At least they'd get something.

       Like the end of every month I was broke with just enough to cover the rent. Financial responsibilities clicked through my brain as I considered how I might squeeze a few extra dollars out of thin air. The reality of life lodged in my throat and I wondered if I had some oranges to put in their stockings.

       It killed me to think of stockings filled with oranges and a few peppermints on Christmas morning. I had my own empty Christmas memories. The first time we had no tree or gifts I was thirteen.

     "Were not having Christmas this year" my mother informed us . "I can't afford it and you girls are old enough to understand that I'm doing my best."

     Disappointment raced through my body and I thought, don't be a sniveler, suck it up. Christmas is just a bunch of crap anyway. That's what I told myself. But honestly, waking up on Christmas day with nothing felt sad. I was embarrassed when at school other kids asked, "So, what'd ya get?" I'd lie and make things up. I didn't want that for my kids. They were too young and innocent for such harsh realities. I felt helpless in my own circumstance.

      Bright colored lights hung from rooftops and trees along the street screaming happy holiday, cheer I didn't feel as I passed. Tension hammered in my temples as I parked behind a pickup truck. My head fell forward and banged against the wheel in defeat and I cried without restraint, and then I screamed. I screamed until I gagged. I pounded my fists in helpless rage until nothing was left but a salty thickness that ran from my nose.

     I pulled myself together and went inside to a party I'd promised my friend I would show up for. I managed about an hour and left as depressed as I'd arrived.

     My foot pumped in a desperate motion against the gas pedal in my old beater. I closed my eyes and prayed, "God, please let my car start." The engine turned over and relief escaped with my breath. The lights from the dash cast a soft glow inside the car and I noticed something sticking out from the ashtray. I reached for it with numb fingers. It was a piece of paper. I pulled it to my nose so I could see. A neatly folded one hundred dollar bill stared back.

     It took a few minutes for me to accept that I was holding such a sum. Where did this come from? Who put this here? I glanced at the house filled with people celebrating the holiday and I cried again. This time it was gratitude mixed with disbelief.

     I drove straight to Toys R Us and filled my tiny car. I bought toys and wrapping paper, stocking stuffers and gifts for my roommate's son too. I had so much money that I bought food for Christmas dinner.

     I asked all my friends, "was it you who gave the money?"  "No," they each replied, "it wasn't me."

     To this day I don't know who gave such a generous gift, but each year no matter what, we give to someone who needs a little help.

       I wish for you all a happy holiday. Enjoy your friends and family and maybe find a way to give a little something to one who needs it.

                                     Special Thanks

      The official launch party for my book THE KNOWING was a huge success and I owe a debt of gratitude to several people.     My stunning book cover was done by Al Vitaro, who I met when buying a meditation chair for my retreat last April. He created  several  video shorts related to the book. His work is nothing less than phenomenal. Thank you Al.

      I highly recommend his chairs and am including his website for you, zenbydesign . Check it out, you will love them too.  My little sister is the face on the book, thank you Farrah.

       The Capital Grille, Scottsdale did a great job offering delicious food and outstanding service. Linda Kammeyer took care of everything. Thank you Linda.

     Some of you may know Beverly Kidd as your favorite anchor from news channel 3. Beverly now writes health news and fitness articles for women on a new website, health2fit

      The articles are fresh and informative and well worth following. She is interviewing me on the benefits of meditation which will air the first week in January on her website.

     Last but definitely not least, my sisters flew in and surprised me making the night more special than I can say. A thousand thank you's to everyone who has supported me and believed in me.  I hope you read the book and recommend it to a friend.   Thank you,

Nita Lapinski

Wishing you the happiest holidays and New Year!  Don't forget to schedule your reading for the New Year! nitalapinski or windowsoflightaz

Once again, thank you.

Sincerely,

Nita Lapinski

August 2012

The ghost of summer.
Once again summer has raced past leaving a silhouette of vacations, barbeques, family gatherings, good books, sleeping late, and the faint scent of sunblock in it’s wake.
Seriously, I don’t know where the time goes.
At my house there were visit’s from children and granddaughters, family photos, a trip back east and a broken rib from a slip in the shower.
My favorite editor has my manuscript once again and my fingers are double crossed behind my back that this will be the final edit. Keep your fingers crossed too, maybe it’ll help.
I trust that your summer was everything you’d hoped for and more. Bring on fall and winter, we’re ready.

BONES
My body suddenly shivered with goosebumps and the air became electric.
Something resembling heat waves rose out of nowhere forming an energy mass across the room from where I sat. I felt it’s vibration rush through me fluctuating higher and then lower.
My intuition told me that the stranger was a man who’d died just that morning and wanted to get a message to his family. I hadn’t known him while he lived. His family was connected to a close friend of mine and his eldest son Wayne, attended the same high school as my daughter.
I leaned forward squeezing shut my eyes hoping to better understand the words that were racing through my mind.
“Slowdown,” I said. “I can’t understand you and I can’t write that fast!” I felt rattled and out of balance.
His energy was frantic and full of static like an un-tuned radio. I felt his uncertainty hang like fog between us. Can she hear me? How long can I talk?

“Tell them,” he said, “that I wasn’t afraid. My mother and my sister were there to help me. They were waiting for me.
And while he talked, I felt who he’d been. Like a voyeur I witnessed pieces of his life speeding by in glimpses that lasted only seconds but revealed the intimate moments of his life. That was his gift to me, it was our exchange.
“Tell my wife” he went on, “I’m sorry for the way I treated her.”
The memory of angry words and hateful intent that had been hurled between two people lingered like cologne in the air. “It wasn’t her, it was me. I really do love her.
Tell Zack, I’m sorry I yelled at him and tell him to try to forget the shock of finding me like that. Dead in the snow. I didn’t know it would happen like this. I never wanted that for him.”
His sorrow, regret and love that had lived within him spilled out flooding the room. He went on relating information about secret insurance policies, hidden items in his garage, regret for the treatment of those he loved and on and on. I scribbled madly trying to keep up.

Anxiety gurgled in my stomach and my mind spun. What was I supposed to do with the information? I couldn’t call a total stranger who’d just lost her husband and say, “Hi. I’m the psychic across town. Your husband just dropped in.”
After writing what he said, I called my friend who’d told me about his death earlier that morning.
“Hello Wendy? You’ll never believe what just happened.”
I told her everything and she said, “It sounds like that was Bones. They think he had a massive heart-attack. I was just leaving to go over there.”
I was relieved to surrender my notes of what he’d said to Wendy. She could deliver the information at an appropriate time. As it turned out the family was very grateful to receive his message.

I am constantly humbled by the events in my life. I am also deeply thankful for gifts I’ve been given.
We don’t have the same experiences or intuition, but we all have it. Most of us don’t trust what we see, hear or smell. We quickly disregard the knowing that washes over us revealing a truth we could not have known.
I’m crazy we tell ourselves or that was not real.
But what if we can learn to trust those moments? Would a whole unknown world open up?
Maybe an unusual event has happened in your life and you felt awkward telling anyone or you question if what happened was real. Ask yourself, What if it is real? What happens then?
We have to learn to trust ourselves and then see what comes.

As always, I thank you for your interest and support. I invite you to have a reading soon and remember that I book two or three weeks out so don’t wait! Visit my website or email me for details.

Sincerely,
Nita Lapinski
nita@windowsoflightaz.com
480-659-7714 or 602-448-4703

August 2011

Discover your Clair’s
A new 4-part course specifically designed to help you discover your Clair’s begins in September 2011. We are each born with the “Four Clair’s.” which of the Clair’s is strongest within you? Do you more often experience Clairvoyance, Claircognizance, Clairsentience or Clairaudience?
In this 4-part class we will identify each Clair’s meaning and discover which ones we naturally experience most often. Learn how you can strengthen and use them in your life. The class schedule is Sept 20th & 27th and October 4th & 18th at Storm Wisdom Center 3375 E. Shea Blvd. Suite A-1 Phoenix, AZ 85028 from 6pm until 8:30.
To register call 602-334-1204.
Price for the course is $150.00 in advance and space is limited. Don’t miss the chance to discover and embrace your Clair’s!
Ingrid’s Gift
The loud bang startled me out of meditation again. It was the third or fourth time that day I’d heard the disruptive boom’s. In fact, it was day three of the annoying interruptions. I knew the noises weren’t “house noises” as my husband had suggested, they were deliberate- someone was making them though technically I’d been alone. I walked to the center of the house-my arms locked stubbornly across my chest. “Okay, who is it?” I asked out loud as my eyes scanned the room. But there was no reply and whatever or whomever had been there was gone.

In my bedroom the next afternoon I found dozens of delicate pearls sprawled across the floor that had fallen from a houseplant. One had to physically bump the plant to cause the tiny buds to let go and they were not there when I’d left that morning, someone had been in my room.

I scooped up the mess and on my way out I saw on my dresser, my favorite figurine of a fairy with wild hair that sits on a crystal ball, she had been turned completely backwards. Okay, now there was no question- my body hair stood erect- someone was definitely trying to get my attention. But I couldn’t detect who it was.

I hadn’t realized someone sitting on the couch until I passed them, it was 7:30 am and when I spun around in suprise, they were gone. I was certain of what I’d seen. Who was trying so hard to reach me? I wondered.

Then my friend Christian called, “Nita” he said in a
voice tight with emotion, “Ingrid died sometime this week. We just discovered her body and we don’t know how she died. I thought you would want to know.”

The reason he thought so was because upon hearing the shocking news of his sisters unexpected death, Christian got a flash of memory and saw Ingrid and I standing together in our uniforms smiling and laughing. We’d worked together and had been friends. But that had been more than two decades ago and Ingrid and I hadn’t kept in touch. “The image,” Christian said “was crystal clear and bright.” I wondered, had Ingrid given him the memory so he would call me?

Goose flesh crawled along my skin. It all fell into place and I realized my old friend was visiting. She’d been trying to gain my attention all week but I was unable to recognize her energy. After my recognition of Ingrid she was able to communicate with me and asked if I would be her medium and deliver a message to her family which I was honored to do. The next morning I had to write fast to keep up with all she said.

I gave Christian Ingrid’s message which he read at her memorial to his family and Ingrid’s friends. He didn’t tell anyone where the words had come from. They were stunned and absolutely silent as Christian delivered his sisters missive and wondered how he had come by these words that sounded and felt like Ingrid herself had spoken them. They felt comforted and happy to hear what Christian shared. It was Ingrid’s gift to them.

It would have been easy to doubt the signs of Ingrid’s presence- to question myself and disbelieve the evidence she’d left and frequently, that’s what we do. We question and doubt, we tell ourselves we are imagining. Sometimes our intuition is not so overt, it’s more subtle.

Have you felt or seen something you suspect is connected to a loved one who has passed? Sometimes we see our loved ones in what feels like a dream or we feel a flash of energy that brings their essence back to us in a breathtaking wave and we know it was them. Sometimes we smell them. Sometimes they speak to us.

It can take time, acceptance and practice but we can learn to understand and embrace our unbreakable connection to a world that we can’t always see.
Thank you Ingrid.

*If you would like to read Ingrid’s words to her family, visit my website and click on Ingrid’s words.

Have you had a reading?
Having a reading can offer insight, clarity and understanding. I offer phone readings or office appointments. Payment is easy through PayPal available on my website. Schedule from 15 minutes for a few questions or a one hour session if your looking for more. I have gift certificates available too!
I’ve restructured the cost because I know times are trying and every little bit helps.
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Book Update

Who knew I would be giving updates on a project I naively thought would only take a few months? Here I am close to 2 years in and I dare say, I have more to go. On the upside, things are progressing well and I have finally come into alignment with what I’m writing. Whew! So in the meantime, thank you to all who supported me during this interesting ride. Those who listen to my paragraphs, pages and ramblings, what would I do without you?

April 2012

Sleeping homeless people crowded every open doorway and overhang. They lay on tattered cardboard mats and newspaper – the lucky wrapped in blankets or sleeping bags and others huddled under layered clothing – their heads covered in wooly caps. Sidewalks and gutters saturated with urine brought to mind an outdoor latrine whose smell could not be escaped in the damp morning air.
The San Francisco sky was heavy with fog that left a cloud of moisture clinging to my face as I walked to Pete’s for my morning espresso. As I approached the street corner, a homeless man sat up and leaned against the doorway of where he’d slept.

Jumbled in a heap beside him, in a filthy burrow of despair, was fishing net
stuffed with clothes tied in a tight ball, a torn plastic Safeway bag that brimmed with crushed aluminum cans and his bedding in a tangled mass of guarded treasure. His feet were bare and blackened with street grime, his toenails shockingly yellow and long and the odor of his unwashed body wafted toward me carried in the mist. Webbed with deep cracks that looked raw and painful, his swollen hands shook as he carefully opened a pint sized bottle that contained his salvation and lifted it reverently to his lips.
I watched the man and thought -What a shame – Poor man, what a waste. – The voice was immediate, – Who are we – It asked – to judge our brother? Perhaps a hundred people pass by him today, forever changed by his presence. Can it be his gift to us? Does he live exactly as his soul intends, how can we know?

I was stung with the arrogance of my thoughts and felt embarrassment spread to my cheeks. I believed my thoughts were compassionate and didn’t see the judgment in them. Instantly, my critical opinion and limiting thoughts were exposed. The homeless man stared blankly into the street – caught in his own reverie as I passed – but after that morning – when I found myself in judgment of others – thinking that I knew a better path for them – I remembered the voice and worked hard to let my judgment go and look within to discover what my real fear or self-judgment was.

We judge ourselves and others everyday, multiple times a day. We judge for simple things like, someones driving or what we wear. We judge for belief systems, political view’s, speech, what one looks like or their ethnicity. We frequently judge for decisions in life or a chosen direction, labeling things “good or bad” or certain that we know a better way.
We are so convinced of our well meaning judgement, that we make our love and support conditional, based on our idea of what or who one should be. It’s easy to convince ourselves that our judgement is about those we direct it toward, but the truth is, judgement is always about us and never about who we are judging.

The act of judging keeps us from acceptance, forgiveness, healing and from experiencing authentic relationships. It keeps us from ourselves. I wonder how many judgments we make in one hour or one day? I wonder if we can notice how each limiting thought makes us feel?
Setting a conscious intention each day to be aware of how and when we judge can be the first step in changing our pattern. But watch out! Don’t judge yourself for judging, just notice when it happens and then let the judgment fly from your heart like a flock of birds. Ahhh, I feel better already.

Book Update

I am nearing the finish line!! I have submitted the manuscript to eighteen readers who are giving their response. I am deeply grateful. Here are some samples:

Many times throughout the book I just got goosebumps, and that doesn’t happen very often with books that I read.

Nita, I loved the story so much. Although it was painful in many ways, it was also quite captivating and incredibly emotional. I just wanted to reach out and hug that little girl throughout the story and in my opinion, when you connect with a reader this strongly through emotion; you are on to something magical. At first, I was a bit disoriented with the writing style as you moved from one perspective to another but I quickly caught on and actually ended up greatly appreciating it throughout the story as I anticipated the next shift in perspective. I think it adds tremendously to the story and I do believe you will attract a movie deal that will be strongly influenced by this writing method. The content is incredible, ghastly, beautiful, spiritual and tremendously compelling. When the story was over, I was wishing for more.

I loved your writing style….moving from one perspective to another….very, very compelling. It actually promotes the reader to engage…..it shifts the energy from reading mindlessly so to speak to requiring you to be on your toes a bit…..which is incredible to me.

I just finished the book and all I can say is WOW! Just wow, but I will get into that later.I would give this story 15 out of 10. It was unbelievable…

Thank you again for your support and patience. I missed the newsletter quarterly date because I am so focused on finishing this manuscript. I do still give readings and tend to book up fast these days so call to schedule soon!
480-659-7714 or 602-448-4703

November 2011

Book update
Remember that book I’ve been writing for two years? Clearly, I was blissfully ignorant as to what the project entailed, I can still hear my friend Kaye laughing when I chirped,
“I’ll be done in six months!”
Well, I am furiously working to complete my manuscript and submit it to my editor who will reveal how many more months or years of work it may need. It’s not my first edit or even my second. I won’t bore you with the details and cause your ears to bleed – no – rather – I will say its been a remarkable journey that has deeply enriched me – except when it didn’t.
I can report that I have come into alignment with the telling of my story and soon I’ll be ready for the next step. Thank you for the abundant support and encouragement, it means a great deal.

Most Sincerely,
Nita

You’re not listening to me!
“You’re not listening to me!” I shouted over the shower water that pelted my head,
“If the plant flowers all the time, …..” But my husband cut me off and said,
“Jeez, I heard you the last three times!”
“Really?” I asked, “Because I dont think you did. I don’t think you listen to me.” I huffed.
“No,” he corrected me, “Your the one that doesnt listen to me. I already answered you – twice!”
“But you never acknowledged what I said.” I complained.

That’s how our conversation went, back and forth, until I stood with a towel on my head while water dripped from my body and pooled on the fuzzy rubber mat beneath my feet.
“Okay,”
I said wrapping myself in a thick cottony towel and staring my stubborn husband down,
“I’ll concede.” I went on, “That I must not listen because, as you know, we are mirroring each other and I hear you insisting that I don’t listen, so, I’ll have to look at that behavior, but back at you buddy.”
My husband made a face at me and sauntered off.

I kept my promise and recognized that, in fact, as a result of feeling unacknowledged, I repeated myself again and again and didnt listen to my husbands reply because I really wanted to make my point and maybe, just maybe, I really wanted to be right. Dang-it.

My husband days latter admitted,
“Ok, because we’ve lived together so long, I think I already know what your going to say before you finish so, I inturrupt you and don’t let you finish, so then, you think I didn’t listen.”
“That’s because if you interrupt me, you aren’t listening.” I replied.
“Ok, I’ll watch that.” My husband agreed. And just like that, it’s over.

I have to believe I’m not alone in having this disagreement. Aren’t we each convinced were right in judging someones behavior and the accusation’s we direct at them are the same one they accuse us of having?
Oh, and it doesn’t matter if its your spouse, your neighbor, sibling, parent or kid or even your co-worker, its still a mirror, always reflecting our image. Even if the behavior differs slightly from what we accuse, we still have a part in it. The secret in knowing this is true, is in our judgement of the other person. If we judge it, we own it.

Holidays tend to bring up mirrors that we keep cleverly hidden most of the time. My suggestion is to simply accept that within our judgement of another, lies an aspect of our own behavior and embrace it, rather than deny it. In this way we can recognize those things we wish to change and then we can have a different argument and wont that be fun?
Have holidays filled with love, forgiveness and acceptance.

Sincerely,
Nita

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