The Moral of the Story Is...

From the "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger files..."

This time of year is very bittersweet for me as it was during this time three years ago that we kept vigil while my mother was actively dying. What was expected to take a week or two lasted nearly two months.

It was during this period that I started sensing a profound energy from the other side, as I could see my mother in her nonverbal state pull away from their summoning as she was not yet ready to leave. Yes, it was torture for all of us as we were powerless to make a difference in what was happening, emotions were in high gear, the entire family was summoned to her bedside several times with "this is it" episodes before she took one last breath in my sister's arms in the middle of the night.

Now I have learned that time of my life was setting the foundation for finally discovering who I was truly meant to be. Elements had always been there, although I didn't know terminologies or all the metaphysical concepts but it confirmed the reality that "spirits on the other side exist" and it has nothing to do with anything but sending pure love and energy to help us discover ourselves on the highest level.

This is not to say that I am "there" yet. In fact, you'd be surprised how many times I myself turn to Google to answer certain questions that I don't completely understand. But I have never known such peace, such certainty (tinged with some uncertainty when I don't take every experience as it's happening "in the moment" and fail to trust myself and/or my intuition). Everyday I nearly fall to my knees in gratitude that I have remained open, loving, understanding, willing, able... That I have met like-minded people who aspire to the same and have the same qualities, lend a hand, encouragement, and support.

Still, my life in total and the experiences of those who guide me from the other side bring the same message: It may not always be easy but by taking these lessons, experiences, and absorbing information from reliable sources--while actively applying willingness, openness and pure intent to use it for the greater good--will take me to the goal of being the best person I can be.

Although I am not a fan of lengthy blog entries or shares, I do hope you get what you need to know from this share so that you too can bring yourself closer to your highest self--especially during anniversaries or significant dates of those who have passed over--because it is then the vibrations are strongest and the connection is more "intense." They continue to teach us and we are forever a student.

Blessings always... MM

What Turns You On?

A recent story about a male stripper performing at a nursing home made me smile, then pause.

Am I the only one whose excitement emanates more from within? I'm no "poker face." When I'm enthralled and engaged, it is blatantly obvious: My energy level is high and I feel intoxicated without taking alcohol or any substance. This is usually because those around me lift me up by their pure energy, love and respect. Some refer to this as being "empathic," and I am hard-pressed to disagree.

For the most part, I abhor the concept of strippers—male or female. To me, it is nether stimulating, nor enticing. I find myself way too embarrassed for the performer to enjoy their efforts. I know he's not turned on by me, we are unlikely to end up in the sack, and everything he does is part of his act—his way of making a living. Therefore I pass on such displays whenever possible.

I have never completely understood the "stripper thing" overall. Of course, I understand that men in particular tend to be visual beings more scintillated by a woman throwing herself on him, gyrating accordingly. It apparently makes him feel special. The fantasy removes him from his often mundane routine. Except he's paying quite the premium for the display. (Some, far higher prices than they—or those they love—could ever have imagined.)

How little one must think of himself to believe he has nothing to attract a woman except money in his pocket. Money he can often ill-afford—and the dancer is very eager to collect.

I don't believe I'm repressed or reluctant to let loose. In my younger days I spent many hours on the dance floor, letting my freak flag fly, letting each beat of the music filter through my body in movement and rhythm. To me, that is freedom; that is exciting. 

Maybe it's just another sign that I'm more of a "doer" than a "watcher."