It's been a long time since I took my spirituality with a dose of spiritualism. Spiritualism made it's name through it's infamous (and some say fake) contact with the dead. It is the home of psychics, clairvoyants and a place to call upon when grieving takes hold. I had much fun with Spiritualism when I first started my spiritual journey. As is described in my first ever book, The High Heeled Guide to Enlightenment. I loved the idea that we might commune with spirit, that wisdom was forthcoming from the ether, and that we go on and are loved infinately. I mean, what is not to love about that? And I had many great experiences, that proved, beyond doubt, that there is life beyond life. (check them out here)
I didn't commit to Spiritualism though, just as I didn't totally gel to Buddhism, Kabbalah or Feng Shui. Though I took a great deal from each. I went on and have lived my life according to me, and to what my heart tells me. These days I wield Tarot and find much of my wisdom through interaction with the living. As it should be. Life is for a purpose. And I have happily not had any contact with the 'dead' for quite some time.
Then today happened. I was milling around my house with one daughter asleep upstairs. I had the baby monitor on. This particular baby monitor has served me through two babies, and is noisy, crackly, and reliable. My Mother in Law came around and we were chatting. She mentioned Horace. He was her Uncle and he died last year. Thirty seconds after she mentioned him, the baby monitor, constant in it's white noise, went silent, and an eerie whilst came through. As if there were a person in the room with my baby, letting lose a short but tuneful whistle. We looked at each other, the hairs on our arms raised. I heard the baby wake up. I asked if Horace used to whistle. He did apparently, all the time... Little spurts of whistling, like that which we just heard.
The fact it happened near my baby daughter is another gift. He never got to meet her. But apparently he already has. And whilst I might be pissed that he woke her from a nap, it was actually rather timely, as I was about to wake her myself. Handy. Spooky, miraculous, and very bloody handy.
And so my world is whirled back to the days of chattering with unseen entities. Nothing about is scares me. Everything about it intrigues me. I have opened myself lately to deeper spiritual experiences, to a holier divinity, a more Wiccan, Shamanic and Pagan understanding of my spirit. I didn't expect whistling. But whistling is cool. I will take it.
I believe that loving spirits, who mean no harm, are probably always trying to get our attention. Occasionally, for a split second, they do so. Usually when we really weren't expecting it. That is the way of a universe where everything is connected. Your sign or message could come through a butterfly or a baby monitor. The way to ensure your message is received, is to believe it when it comes. To have faith in your spiritual ever afterwards. To know that you go on, your spirit is connected, that we are all in a spiral of loving interdependence. And we are. And you are.
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Here is a snippet from the book I'm currently madly working on, 'Dirty & Divine', which is a fabulous journey to intuition, self- love and tarot. I am currently undertaking a journey of each and every tarot card. It is fascinating what is arising from this little adventure. So here is a little paragraph, written under the influence of The Hermit, that I'd love to share with you stressing the importance of being occasionally teenage.
'So in the evening of The Hermit I put the kids to bed and went downstairs to see my husband. He was fast asleep. I tried to wake him. He didn’t stir. So I got all teenage. I went and had a hot bath with a good book. Then I went and lay naked on my bedroom floor. Why the floor? Because it felt real. Laying naked on the floor (instead of the bed) felt, in that moment radical, it felt real, it felt like I was me again navigating furniture like a hostile. Teenagers don’t need furniture. They are furniture. They don’t get comfy, they strike a pose, they resist the smug, snug of duvets and memory foam and they find bricks to perch gloriously upon.''
The above is just a tiny insight into where this journey is taking me. The teenager within went on to advise me quite powerfully as I lay naked on the floor! What advice would your teenage self give to you today? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
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If you don't know what to do in life. Just do something. Did you know I was once in a 'sex farce'. It was actually a rather mild mannered but hilarious local amateur dramatic production. I was in a place where I wanted to achieve something. But I didn't know what. As a kid I'd longed to be an actress and loved drama. So I did this.
I had a small part as a flirty blonde au pair - totally type cast. But I loved it and hated it in equal measure. It taught me some things about me. Not long after this I started to write. I wrote first for music magazines. Till I realised I should write about what really interests me (not what my husband does). So I stayed to write (and live and explore) about spirituality. Have never looked back. So if you are stuck what to do. Just do something. Be like me. Be in a sex farce or any other farce that suits and find yourself! #amateurdramatic #findyourself #drama #actress #dosomethinf #spiritulity #spiritjunkie #spiritualliving #tarot
Ok I'm not going to bullshit you here. Sometimes the death card actually means death. In all my 20 something years of reading cards I've never had this crop up at the time of an actual death either. But today is different...
Yesterday my husband lost somebody and then up pops this card. Not so much an omen, but a startling reflection. The thing with the 'death' card is that it heralds so much hope. Because whilst it can reflect the loss of so much, it also points us to the fact that from loss new beginnings can spring.
With each person that we lose, we are gifted the chance to consider what that person meant to us. To love them for all their good, and to take lessons from their life, apply it to our lives and continue their legacy. And if you are spiritual then death also represents a return home, to the true home, to a place where the aches and pains of body and mind are no longer felt. A place where the larks and jests of earth are relieved. A compassionate, loving place where we feel the light of source pumping through our metaphorical veins.
So yes, sometimes the death card means actual death. But there is no bleakness in that. Only hope and if you want to look for it, inspiration, love, inevitability and release. If you are grieving a death I hope this helps you. With love, Alice
I nearly got my family killed today. Only last night I was remarking to my husband that we should be grateful to be alive. And roughly forty minutes ago I very nearly wasn’t. I would have taken two kids with me and left my husband a lonesome widower. Yes, my gratitude just got amped up a few storeys.
I feel quite the village idiot telling this tale. And I am sure that somewhere on social media, or in someone’s workplace this morning my name is mud. Perhaps the other party in question is receiving tea and sympathy from colleagues about her near miss - as well she might, I hope they bring her chocolate cake. Whereas I’m using valuable child free time to process what the heck just happened. And to open a dialogue about gratitude.
Basically it goes like this. In the car. Not tired, kids not screaming, not distracted. I was actually paying very close attention to the road. So much so that I was fixated on a tractor opposite me at a crossroads. I was overly concerned on whether he was going to pull out at the same time as me. I was so consumed by this that when I pulled out onto the speedy A road, I didn’t see a silver bullet hurtling towards my back end. When I heard the beep, I naturally assumed I’d made a wrong call and the tractor was being pissy. At that point a silver car overtook me close and fast.
It took me a second and then I realised, shit, she nearly went into me. And it’s my fault. And that would have been bad, really really bad. Other than feeling silly. I felt grateful. Thankful she had swift reactions. Thankful that there was nothing coming towards us, so that she was able to manoeuvre around me at the last second. Thankful that we carried on our journey, my daughters blissfully unaware what had happened. Oh goddess yes, that, my daughters blissfully unaware, safe, alive, breathing.
I wish I could thank the woman driving the silver bullet that nearly took us out. What an angel she was this morning. Not only did she avoid the death or serious injury of four people, but she has made me feel just so grateful, so alive.
Often in life gratitude is something we say we have, but actually until aspects of our life is threatened we don’t really indulge it in the way we think we do. As I said, just last night I was spouting platitudes about being grateful to be alive. But it feels very different to live that scenario, even if just for a second on a rainy Friday morning. Digging deeper into that pit of gratitude is a powerful thing. It takes on a multitude of aspects when we are forced to actually confront it.
I’d really love to take this opportunity to start a chat about what you are grateful for? But not in a generic, ‘I love my dog’ kinda way. I want to talk about why you are grateful for the things that you have, or the near misses and curves that have brought you to this moment, unharmed, breathing, comfortable. Let’s amp up our gratitude… Leave your thoughts in the comments below!
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