Reminders.

I have been reminded of so much this month.

I have been reminded about loss and despair, and I have been reminded of the elation one can feel from just one good song played over and again on loud.

I have consulted with three psychics about Figgy’s absence. I suppose I was desperate for help after having done everything I could think of, just as I was desperate to find an answer where there did not seem to be one. And in this search I have learned that no one can really give me the comfort I feel I need, because without tangible proof, in my hands or before my eyes, everything still remains a mystery. If psychics are telling me what they see or feel, I have to tuck away my skepticism and need for physical evidence and make a conscious choice to believe them. This belief in what they offer me is really just a choice. My choice, in my helplessness, was to embrace the pictures they drew for me because I did not know what else to do.

Through all of this, where I am today is in a place of simply accepting that Figgy is gone. I don’t know where he is. He is either with a new family, or he is living with  a pack of feline street toughs, or he is gone from his fluffy vessel and he is a free floating cat spirit again. All three of those things are okay with me. And this is the only place I can really reside right now. Just accepting that I do not know and may never know, truly, in my heart and gut and for myself. I wish I could have that feeling of “you just know”, but I don’t. I don’t know and I have no idea and I may never know.

Perhaps it is because I am blocked, spiritually, that I cannot access my knowing gut. My left nostril feels as if it has a brick in it, which is supposedly related to my right brain hemisphere being blocked. This all makes perfect sense to me. Yet I am glad to say that there is a slow but noticeable shift happening. This move to start school for social work (after the vet tech thing ended up being not right for me), feels more right than anything has felt in years. I feel so driven to start classes, get my degree and then work with animals and people together, and to dedicate myself to helping that movement grow, to join in the building of something I truly value and believe in. I am completely excited, everything feels right. And I was reminded that when things are right, they snap into place and they proceed in an easy way. When things are not right, they are hard, extra challenging, complicated and filled with disappointment.

If I were 22 years old, I would not be able to do this, go to school to become a social worker. I would not have the last twenty years under my belt from which to draw wisdom, inspiration, patience, experience and a kind of compassion one can get from having gone into the dark place more than a few times.

I spoke with one of the psychics about 2012, and what the move towards a higher consciousness actually means for people, what the Age of Light means, how the rapture is so silly, what books to read, etc. We spoke about being empathic people and she told me my ears have started hurting because I am sensitive and tuning in more, as vibrations start to rise, and my eyes are struggling for the same reasons. She told me to pay attention to when it is that my ears hurt. Why silverware or voices or tv hurts sometimes but not others. I have to learn more about how to deal with this being sensitive thing. I spent my life apologizing for it. But now it is time to learn how to use it, manage it, work with it instead of fighting it. When you are absurdly sensitive it can feel like the environment dictates how you feel, so you have to stay grounded, know how to be in your body, learn how to tune out to some things and tune in to others. It is all just about learning how. I hope I can learn how.

I have been reminded of so much. I want to reach for all of the books I have gathered over the years, the books about spirituality, metaphysics, Buddhism, communication, etc. I want to reach for them and put them under my pillow and by osmosis remember everything they taught me when I first read them. I want to find comfort about having lost my boy. I want to suddenly understand the universe, the afterlife, oneness, and subsequently feel better.

But I do feel better. I am getting there. I am for the first time in almost forever looking forward instead of looking back. This is a super big deal. Apparently, my Italian grandmother’s spirit is clapping for me, proud that I am learning how to love myself after years of just not being able to do that. She is sending down recipe inspirations to chefs worldwide, stirring her pot and clapping for me. This is a picture I will hold onto.

And this one:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisement