The feeling of freedom I have on my sky blue bicycle, not bent way over my bars, but the same way I would sit in a cushy chair, gives me abundant choice to live my life exactly as I wish irrelevant of how cool my bicycle is. It is a classic "Wizard of Oz" wonder, and with a basket on the front bars it is perfect for a home based psychic worker like myself.
Reading...Reading...Reading
Being an Indigo child was not an enlightening experience for me. It disrupted my learning ability, as like a child Sigmund Freud, I was "reading...reading....reading"; reading the teacher before me, reading the children around me, and even reading the dog tied to a house post on the way home. The only way I can explain this unwanted blessing, is if you can imagine a fan running all the time and hearing that extra layer of white noise with out relief. At the age of 19, in a French gift shop, I found a beautiful deck of cards called "Tarot" and HERE is where I learned I actually had a gift. Better yet, I allowed myself to turn my gift on and off, with the simple action of putting the Tarot Cards back in their box and closing the lid. For the first time in my life, now that I understood what this extra "energy layer" was, I learned to block it at will.
Tarot....Great "Additional Dimension Disorder" Medicine
Tarot was not just a set of cards to me, they were "good meds" for a crippling inability to turn off my psychic gift, which I call "Additional Dimension Disorder." Please know I do not live in a dream world and am totally realistic about this. The card symbols perk my intuitive over-drive, and allow more focus. My subconscious relates to my conscious mind what it is seeing in the symbols of the cards. I open my mouth, and let the information flow forth to my national and international clients. When I'm done reading, I close the box with the cards in it, and my conscious tells my subconscious "time out" { or in less polite terms, "Shut Up."}
MY ANGEL GARDENS
I live in a tiny red neck town, and in honor of my angels, I have purchased four lots of land where I create meditation sanctuary gardens, fairy gardens, butterfly gardens and pathways. They are always a work in progress. Large cement statues are placed in Feng Shui energy directions, so not to look cluttered. Maybe best of all is my neighbors seem to accept me as a good hearted eccentric. Children and animals are drawn to me like a magnet, which means I seldom get to garden alone. Often little girls fascinated with my gardens insist on raking, gathering sticks, or stopping for a small chat. Amongst us all, the cats circle between our legs, purring.
SO WHATS WITH ANGELS?
Here is what I believe about Angels. Each of us is a living walking temple of flesh and bone. We are in continuous dialogue with our Angels and the Universe. But they can only do so much for us. We are the ministers at the podium of our brain and heart. In the end, the consequences of our choices will be reflected through our eyes, our environment, our health and the great mystery waiting for us at the end. And no one says its easy, but like gardens, we're each a work in progress.
MY HUSBAND
Who would marry a woman like me? The answer may surprise you. He is a die hard Republican who worships Rush Limbaugh. And yes, he would rather I stop creating gardens so he can mow mindlessly free. As an anal attentive soul who thrives on historical books on World War One and Two, my husband and I agree not to agree, talk to our many animals, drink lots of coffee together and read. Our comfortable silence is impactful to our marriage in a positive way. I don't try to change him, and he does not try to change me. My husband bends his conservative rules when it comes to car mechanics, which is when he gets psychic readings on car dysfunction such as "is it this part...or this part?" I probably should have an add in the paper, "Annie O'Dell: Psychic Mechanic Readings" in which a photo of me is displayed wearing a monkey suit with a wrench in my hand, a gypsy scarf on my head.
THE MISSOURI SENATE CHURCH
When my 91 yr old neighbor saw my first 300 pound angel fly in suspended from a Boom Truck, and gently set into a four tier garden across the lane from her living room window, amends had to be made. She insisted I try her church, the Missouri Senate Lutherans. As the angel garden filled with pastel flowers and tulips, wind flowers and Bleeding Heart, she learned to love the angel. BUT a promise is a promise and I had said I would go to the Missouri Senate Church in town. As time went on and I attended the church I even made some lovely but distant friends. Often I noticed that I sat alone in a peau, or at church events people distanced from me. It came to the simple reality we shared nothing in common. Folks had no idea how to talk to me, and most of all I believe worried if in laughing or bonding with me others would think they were joining my life style.
MY SKY BLUE BIKE & the PIT BULL
Increasingly people were distancing from me at the Missouri Senate Church, and it was at the point I was feeling like an outcast. Many liked me, but it was my questionable image and the fear that they did not want their friends to see them with me, that made me realize we had all been a lot better off when I did not come at all. On a beautiful summer day I coasted my sky blue bike into the parking lot, to the church door, where a Pit Bull sat growling. I got off my bike, ready to speak softly in an nonthreatening manner so I could enter inside the church. The closer I got, the more the Pit Bull growled and stared threateningly at me, growling before the large front double wood doors. I realized a heavier message was being given to me. I looked past the dog to the symbolic reality.
I saw in my minds eye a room full of God fearing Missouri Senate avoiding me. I saw the contradiction of "Thou shalt not judge" and saw my own transgression in trying to force feed an established church with my essence. I climbed onto my sky blue bike, thanked the dog, sailed home and fetched my coffee, to walk in the serenity of my loving angel gardens. http://sisterspsychicwindow.piczo.com
