A quick blog. It is the season of Christmas, the time for goodwill towards ALL men. Including ex-partners, the ex-in law and generally everyone of an annoying persuasion that you wouldn't normally have to have anything to do with.
For me, this week, my life has been a challenge. I really was not looking forward to spending Christmas with my ex-mother-in-law who views me as a satanist because I am a medium. That is just the tip of the iceberg. Way down low, beneath the ice covered water lies the true reason the woman hates the sight of me. I am representative to her of all things wrong with our society. I had a child with her son, her darling eldest son who can do no wrong. I digress. The challenge is purely internal, for me, to force myself to spend a day with a Roman Catholic ex-mother-in-law who actually believes she is saintly and she is surrounded by lesser mortals who are in need of her disapproval in order to correct the error of their ways.
The reason I agreed to spend my Christmas Day, CHRISTMAS DAY, with the unholy cow, no, not unholy, sorry, scrub that, the holier than thou cow, is because of my 16 year old son. My dear little boy who is learning how to be a man by watching his hapless father screw his life up and trying to figure out how to grow in this ever changing world that is enough to drive a saint crazy.
I managed it, but I needed the help of spirit. I have been given the message by a fellow medium that Christmas was "not going to be as bad as you think". I clung to this message like a survivor of the Titanic clung to bits of driftwood. My daily mantra, it is not going to be as bad as you think. It is not going to be as bad as you think. I involved myself in daily activities to take my mind off the forecoming drama/travesty/sure to be a row Day that is Christmas. As the day loomed nearer I kept getting signs from spirit, little signs that are insignificant to a non-believer, but to me they offer a lifeline that I cling to in order to get me through it.
I know I had them, what were they now? This is the point I wish I wrote my coincidences down, my signs from spirit that are clear to me at the time, vanish with even just a few days of normal life happening, and with Christmas happening I am struggling to recall the signs that I had over a few days leading up to Christmas. Oh yes, I remember on a day when there was snow on the floor and ice everywhere and my head was full of churning about what was going to happen at Christmas, a squirrel appeared out of nowhere and looked at me and ran across my path. A beautiful squirrel. The spiritual symbol I have designated to my son. Whenever I am 'given' a squirrel from spirit I know I have to focus more on my son than usual and pay attention to his needs more than I normally do.
Sure enough, the next day my son came home from a sleepover where he had a really bad headache, an upset tummy and generally unwell feeling. I suspect this illness has been brought about by the stress of Christmas and his awareness that I don't want to go and spend it with his Nan and his Dads side of the family. I put my feelings to one side and I focus on doing what is right for Charlie and I am reminded again that the only thing that matters at Christmas is the love of family members and emotional peace and stability.
On Christmas Day I ventured into the dragons lair and had a wonderful day. The day was guarded by angels on all four corners of the house, I swear, that can be the only explanation for the happiness, contentment, peace, laughter and love that emanated from the Christmas experience we all shared. My son and I, his Nan, his Uncle and his new girlfriend played Trivial Pursuit in the afternoon with Charlies Dad who turned up unannouned with his 7 stone dalamation leading the way.
As I stood in the living room wondering what sort of miracle had taken place, a Christmas Card that had been blu-tacked to the wall, flew off from a height of about 8ft and landed at my feet. The card said Merry Christmas and was from someone called John. My son's grandpa who died 3 years ago was called John. I pointed it out to Charlie and Uncle J's new gf and silently wished John a Merry Christmas too, and Aunty Janet and Nanny Hardy everyone in spirit who I know must have been helping to oil the wheels of peace.
Saturday 26 December 2009
Friday 11 December 2009
My first 'live' blog. My other blogs have been regurgitated from Intent.com. The wonderful website set up by Deepak Chopra. However, I am enjoying the freedom of being able to chat about my life, to you, the imaginary reader without fear of reprisal or reprimand, for clearly, in the event that anyone should care to make disparaging remarks about my work I can simply delete them from my post. ha ha. fabulous.
On to my spiritual coincidence of the week. This week I have had a timely coincidence that really has to be understood in conjunction with a few other events that have happened to me recently. The mystery behind a job interview that I didn't get. Now, as I write this 'story' I am wondering how interesting it is actually going to be to anyone reading who doesn't know me? Do I need to build up a picture of the characters and people playing these roles in order for this set of synchronistic circumstances to have any meaning for anyone but me? I will risk it. I will carry on with my explanatory blog and hope that all will become clear as I write. But no, I am feeling a familiar twinge of guilt that says I should be loyal to Intent 'readers' and post for their benefit first and 'share' with this blog later. It all gets too much,the blogging, the intenting, the tweeting, the facebooking, which should come first the blog or the facebook? phew, throws self in a crumpled heap and allows room for breathing. start again. okay.
I am keeping this short. There is nothing to be gained from sharing the experience in such detail as to allow the reader to be in the room as it happened, mainly because the experience only affected a) me and b)a young guy at the homeless centre and c) a young project worker at the homeless centre and c) 3 interviewers who were left wondering why I had applied for a job in the first place!
No, I feel a need to blog on Intent. I follow my instincts. I am going to blog for Intent and share to this blog and to my facebook. Sorry for the tease but thats the way the cookie crumbles.
Lots of love
Tamasin x
On to my spiritual coincidence of the week. This week I have had a timely coincidence that really has to be understood in conjunction with a few other events that have happened to me recently. The mystery behind a job interview that I didn't get. Now, as I write this 'story' I am wondering how interesting it is actually going to be to anyone reading who doesn't know me? Do I need to build up a picture of the characters and people playing these roles in order for this set of synchronistic circumstances to have any meaning for anyone but me? I will risk it. I will carry on with my explanatory blog and hope that all will become clear as I write. But no, I am feeling a familiar twinge of guilt that says I should be loyal to Intent 'readers' and post for their benefit first and 'share' with this blog later. It all gets too much,the blogging, the intenting, the tweeting, the facebooking, which should come first the blog or the facebook? phew, throws self in a crumpled heap and allows room for breathing. start again. okay.
I am keeping this short. There is nothing to be gained from sharing the experience in such detail as to allow the reader to be in the room as it happened, mainly because the experience only affected a) me and b)a young guy at the homeless centre and c) a young project worker at the homeless centre and c) 3 interviewers who were left wondering why I had applied for a job in the first place!
No, I feel a need to blog on Intent. I follow my instincts. I am going to blog for Intent and share to this blog and to my facebook. Sorry for the tease but thats the way the cookie crumbles.
Lots of love
Tamasin x
Friday 4 December 2009
The coincidental stranger in need of a lift and the golf club refund
Synchronicity at Play
I went to a BBQ yesterday. I didn’t really feel like going, I had a lot on, not enough time and too much to fit in. You know how it goes.
The sun made me go, the beautiful summer sun, the last rays of the summer. I realised I had no right not to appreciate the ability of being able to meet up with friends and sit and chat in a garden that has had a lot of love, care and attention given to it.
When I say friends, I use the term loosely. A friend of mine who is an Opera Singer has a collection of people in her life that she gathers together like lost sheep. We all migrate together in her garden a couple of times a year to swap notes, compare situations, a general socialisation of people from all walks of life. My opera singing friend has a son the same age as my son, they were at Junior school together and now they have left school and moved onto their higher education. Another Mum was also there that I have known for the same length of time.
During the 10 years that we have been meeting up like this we have got to know each other better, not really on a very deep level, but we all keep showing up.
Anyway, yesterday, I trotted along to the said gathering, and after introducing myself to some newly collected sheep, saying ‘Hi’ to some vaguely recognised faces I settled in a sun lounger armed with a cold drink to sit in a circle of women who I don’t know. Apart from Pat.
Pat is a piano student of the hostess. Pat is a no-nonsense business woman. She has no time for my arty-farty (as she puts it) ideas that there is anything more to life than what you can see, right here, right now.
As Pat was on the red wine she was quite happily holding court amongst the attentive strangers. I plonked myself next to Pat, disturbing her flow, and introduced myself to each member of this congregated collection of strangers. Pat decided that now was a good time to tell me about something strange that had happened to her. My ears perked up, on alert for an ear-bashing about how awful life is, and how she has proof that there is no God or some other harsh vocal that was likely to come my way.
By way of background information, Pat has a daughter who lives about 25 miles away, maybe 30 in a town outside the City of Chelmsford, called Braintree. Pat, openly admits to being a terrible mother, but she does her best. Pats ‘best’ means that when her daughter asks for her help Pat tells her what to do. Invariably the answer about ‘what to do’ does not involve Pat.
Pat is successfully swanning around the globe, bossing people about and generally having a whale of a life. Pat’s daughter and her new baby are not Pat’s problem! Got the picture? Having said that, Pat is sociable, charming, entertaining and colourful. The sort of person you would want at a bbq to entertain the troops. She is also tiny, about 5ft.
Pat was on her way, uncharacteristically, to see her daughter. Using her newly purchased Sat-Nav to direct her 30 miles away from home. As she was driving along, her Sat-Nav was making no sense to her whatsoever and she got to the point where she decided to pull over to sort it out. She pulled over into a lay-by (you know the part of the road where you can stop,re-charge your batteries, call the breakdown services). As she was pushing the buttons on her Sat-Nav a man came walking up to her car.
As her daughter pointed out,it was at this point she should have locked herself in). Pat wound her window down.
She said to him “do you know how to get to to Braintree?”
He said to her “do you know how to get to Hatfield Peverall?” – or somewhere like that, as Pat was telling this story I wasn’t listening as fully as I should have been to the exact details because I was waiting for a punchline, I think his car had also broken down.
Pat didn’t know where he was going but she said she had a Sat-Nav and told him to jump in her car. He jumped in and looked at the Sat-Nav. It was still on DEMO. Pat hadn’t set the Sat-Nav properly. Really, it is amazing she made it that far. So, the Man, now called Bob, set the Sat-Nav. He phoned the person he was trying to get to and got their post-code from them. Pat chatted on the phone to the person and called out the postcode for the Sat-Nav. Bob wrote the number down on a piece of paper in Pats car.
The pair of them set off and headed 9 miles along the road for Bob to get to his destination and Pat happily said “cheerio”. He thanked her for her help. When Pat arrived at her daughters and relayed the story her daughter ‘had a cow’. What was Pat thinking letting strange men in her car and driving them about? Mother-daughter relationship, very complex!
Pat told her not to worry and settled down to tell her daughter about the saga she had had with the golf club that morning. The Golf Club had cancelled her lessons because the trainer was sick. The Golf Club were refusing to refund Pat’s £100 because it wasn’t their fault. They hadn’t reckoned on Pat. Pat went personally to the Golf Club, all 5 feet of her and sat in their reception until they dealt with her. She walked away from the Golf Club with a cheque made payable to her for the full £100. As Pat reached in her bag to produce said cheque as evidence for her storytelling to her daughter she realised she had left the envelope in her car, it dawned on her slowly that the piece of paper Bob had written on was in fact an envelope. In her minds eye she recalled him putting the paper in his jacket pocket as he walked away.
“Never mind” Pat told her daughter, he will see the cheque is made out from the Golf Club and he will call them. I will get another cheque (hows that for confidence?).
Pat’s daughter is by now having another justifiable fit at her Mother’s behaviour. In the morning Pat has been ordered downstairs to make morning tea by her daughter and while Pat is downstairs her mobile phone starts ringing upstairs. Who is calling Pat at this ungodly hour when there is a baby in the house, what is wrong with people? Pat’s daughter demands that Pat come back upstairs mid-tea making to answer her phone.
The person on the phone is a lady friend of Pat, someone she goes to the gym with in Southend.
She asks Pat if she helped someone broken down in a lay-by yesterday?
“Yes”, says Pat.
“That man you helped?
That was my husband. He has got your cheque. I will bring it to the gym with me”.
And so Pat is re-united with her cheque.
Still, there is no God, there is no universal intelligence and everything that happens is of your own making.
This one anecdote, the coincidental stranger who turned out not to be as strange as he first appeared, made my bbq experience one worth having.
Also, proof for me again, that coincidence and synchronicity are only meaningful for people who choose to give them meaning. To other people they are just a fact of life, random coincidences that mean nothing and no amount of arguing or expression of wonder or awe will make the slightest bit of difference!
Living in awe of the higher intelligence that makes itself known everyday!
Love and light to all of you who need it.
I went to a BBQ yesterday. I didn’t really feel like going, I had a lot on, not enough time and too much to fit in. You know how it goes.
The sun made me go, the beautiful summer sun, the last rays of the summer. I realised I had no right not to appreciate the ability of being able to meet up with friends and sit and chat in a garden that has had a lot of love, care and attention given to it.
When I say friends, I use the term loosely. A friend of mine who is an Opera Singer has a collection of people in her life that she gathers together like lost sheep. We all migrate together in her garden a couple of times a year to swap notes, compare situations, a general socialisation of people from all walks of life. My opera singing friend has a son the same age as my son, they were at Junior school together and now they have left school and moved onto their higher education. Another Mum was also there that I have known for the same length of time.
During the 10 years that we have been meeting up like this we have got to know each other better, not really on a very deep level, but we all keep showing up.
Anyway, yesterday, I trotted along to the said gathering, and after introducing myself to some newly collected sheep, saying ‘Hi’ to some vaguely recognised faces I settled in a sun lounger armed with a cold drink to sit in a circle of women who I don’t know. Apart from Pat.
Pat is a piano student of the hostess. Pat is a no-nonsense business woman. She has no time for my arty-farty (as she puts it) ideas that there is anything more to life than what you can see, right here, right now.
As Pat was on the red wine she was quite happily holding court amongst the attentive strangers. I plonked myself next to Pat, disturbing her flow, and introduced myself to each member of this congregated collection of strangers. Pat decided that now was a good time to tell me about something strange that had happened to her. My ears perked up, on alert for an ear-bashing about how awful life is, and how she has proof that there is no God or some other harsh vocal that was likely to come my way.
By way of background information, Pat has a daughter who lives about 25 miles away, maybe 30 in a town outside the City of Chelmsford, called Braintree. Pat, openly admits to being a terrible mother, but she does her best. Pats ‘best’ means that when her daughter asks for her help Pat tells her what to do. Invariably the answer about ‘what to do’ does not involve Pat.
Pat is successfully swanning around the globe, bossing people about and generally having a whale of a life. Pat’s daughter and her new baby are not Pat’s problem! Got the picture? Having said that, Pat is sociable, charming, entertaining and colourful. The sort of person you would want at a bbq to entertain the troops. She is also tiny, about 5ft.
Pat was on her way, uncharacteristically, to see her daughter. Using her newly purchased Sat-Nav to direct her 30 miles away from home. As she was driving along, her Sat-Nav was making no sense to her whatsoever and she got to the point where she decided to pull over to sort it out. She pulled over into a lay-by (you know the part of the road where you can stop,re-charge your batteries, call the breakdown services). As she was pushing the buttons on her Sat-Nav a man came walking up to her car.
As her daughter pointed out,it was at this point she should have locked herself in). Pat wound her window down.
She said to him “do you know how to get to to Braintree?”
He said to her “do you know how to get to Hatfield Peverall?” – or somewhere like that, as Pat was telling this story I wasn’t listening as fully as I should have been to the exact details because I was waiting for a punchline, I think his car had also broken down.
Pat didn’t know where he was going but she said she had a Sat-Nav and told him to jump in her car. He jumped in and looked at the Sat-Nav. It was still on DEMO. Pat hadn’t set the Sat-Nav properly. Really, it is amazing she made it that far. So, the Man, now called Bob, set the Sat-Nav. He phoned the person he was trying to get to and got their post-code from them. Pat chatted on the phone to the person and called out the postcode for the Sat-Nav. Bob wrote the number down on a piece of paper in Pats car.
The pair of them set off and headed 9 miles along the road for Bob to get to his destination and Pat happily said “cheerio”. He thanked her for her help. When Pat arrived at her daughters and relayed the story her daughter ‘had a cow’. What was Pat thinking letting strange men in her car and driving them about? Mother-daughter relationship, very complex!
Pat told her not to worry and settled down to tell her daughter about the saga she had had with the golf club that morning. The Golf Club had cancelled her lessons because the trainer was sick. The Golf Club were refusing to refund Pat’s £100 because it wasn’t their fault. They hadn’t reckoned on Pat. Pat went personally to the Golf Club, all 5 feet of her and sat in their reception until they dealt with her. She walked away from the Golf Club with a cheque made payable to her for the full £100. As Pat reached in her bag to produce said cheque as evidence for her storytelling to her daughter she realised she had left the envelope in her car, it dawned on her slowly that the piece of paper Bob had written on was in fact an envelope. In her minds eye she recalled him putting the paper in his jacket pocket as he walked away.
“Never mind” Pat told her daughter, he will see the cheque is made out from the Golf Club and he will call them. I will get another cheque (hows that for confidence?).
Pat’s daughter is by now having another justifiable fit at her Mother’s behaviour. In the morning Pat has been ordered downstairs to make morning tea by her daughter and while Pat is downstairs her mobile phone starts ringing upstairs. Who is calling Pat at this ungodly hour when there is a baby in the house, what is wrong with people? Pat’s daughter demands that Pat come back upstairs mid-tea making to answer her phone.
The person on the phone is a lady friend of Pat, someone she goes to the gym with in Southend.
She asks Pat if she helped someone broken down in a lay-by yesterday?
“Yes”, says Pat.
“That man you helped?
That was my husband. He has got your cheque. I will bring it to the gym with me”.
And so Pat is re-united with her cheque.
Still, there is no God, there is no universal intelligence and everything that happens is of your own making.
This one anecdote, the coincidental stranger who turned out not to be as strange as he first appeared, made my bbq experience one worth having.
Also, proof for me again, that coincidence and synchronicity are only meaningful for people who choose to give them meaning. To other people they are just a fact of life, random coincidences that mean nothing and no amount of arguing or expression of wonder or awe will make the slightest bit of difference!
Living in awe of the higher intelligence that makes itself known everyday!
Love and light to all of you who need it.
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