Originally Posted (August 30, 2012)
Lots of people think, quite erroneously, that they can take a weekend class in clairvoyance and poof be instantly plugged in to the 24 hour Cosmic Cable Network. I hate to burst your bubble, but everyone you see working at a high level as a psychic / medium / healer etc etc has paid a price to develop that gift, because it takes time and it also takes a "different" type of focus than most people "normally" possess.
All gifts in life come with a price; great beauty, musical genius, athletic prowess . . . the development (and maintenance) of that gift often times seems effortless to an outsider but for anyone working at a high level -- at anything -- there is a back story that will always involve some element of choice and some degree of sacrifice.
For me, a lot of my "development" was almost unconscious. I followed the bouncing ball wherever it happened to lead, not always understanding how the shin bone might ever connect with the hip bone but I had some crazy "faith" that, eventually, it would all come together.
I was a "wanderer", drifting in and out of life, hard core 24 hours a day engaged in "something" and then back to the bat cave to meditate and "drift off". As a result, there is a rather jagged path from beginning to middle to end and along the way I found many golden nuggets dropped at my feet but, for reasons that are probably (in retrospect) fairly self-evident, many of those golden geese were unceremoniously left behind as some other "divine inspiration" rained down from above.
I followed my own "unique path". But not all choices in life are easy ones -- and not every choice "works out". I have the bumps and bruises from stepping blindly off many a curb in to onrushing traffic and those "dark nights" that followed weren't fun. Finding some way to survive until morning "made me" what I am today but, again, the "shamanic roto-rooter" (when the blades are truly spinning) cuts and those cuts take time to heal.
Looking back, though, the original price I was forced to pay was the one that hurt most but isn't that the way, so often, it turns out to be.
The photo above was taken on April 22, 1978. It was my wedding day and my wife's name was Stephania Jo Ross.
I loved her -- and she LOVED me. It was one of those relationships in which sparks fly, in all directions, and wherever we went, people noticed. She was that beautiful, tall, thin, elegant; there was nobody like her and for some reason she loved me, too.
But in 1978 my inner pot was stirring and the "visions" that would later be wrestled to the ground as the foundation for my work as a "psychic" were just starting to burst through and as a 23 year old I was not yet equipped to understand them . . . and they were quite "insistent" on being heard.
As a result of listening to that inner voice -- and talking about it -- people began to see me, not as a golden child filled with potential but, instead, as a crazy man starting to "lose his shit".
I didn't understand what was happening and I couldn't stop it, either, and so eventually the relationship ended because I could not step away and focus on my marriage and the day to day realities of being a new husband. I wanted to "figure it out" and I let Jo Jo know that understanding what was "going on" INSIDE of me was THE most important thing in my life. MORE important than her :(
After Jo Jo and I split, I tuned it all out -- tuned her out. I guess it is safe to say that I didn't "suffer" from lack of female companionship after the split but, deep down, she was always there, always the yard stick with which I unconsiously measured all who followed.
Jo Jo died when she was only 40 years old; an angel in so many ways so maybe, on one level, this was a divine form of protection. Who knows. All I do know is that this relationship was, by far, the hardest thing I HAD to give up; the one that hurt the longest.
I didn't start out to be "psychic"; I set out to find out what the Hell was wrong with ME but ultimately that search turned out to be a search to "find God". I believe, though, that is exactly what I ultimately found and that by "finding me" I also found God, too.
For those who think psychic ability is easy please remember this -- it may be a gift but to bring it to the surface almost always involves a degree of sacrifice . . . the greater the gift, the greater the expectation.
Everything comes full circle and that, I guess, is the TRUE beauty of our earthly sojourn. I paid my ticket and took Mr. Toad's Wild Ride . . . and a new adventure will soon, once more, begin :)
Lots of people think, quite erroneously, that they can take a weekend class in clairvoyance and poof be instantly plugged in to the 24 hour Cosmic Cable Network. I hate to burst your bubble, but everyone you see working at a high level as a psychic / medium / healer etc etc has paid a price to develop that gift, because it takes time and it also takes a "different" type of focus than most people "normally" possess.
All gifts in life come with a price; great beauty, musical genius, athletic prowess . . . the development (and maintenance) of that gift often times seems effortless to an outsider but for anyone working at a high level -- at anything -- there is a back story that will always involve some element of choice and some degree of sacrifice.
For me, a lot of my "development" was almost unconscious. I followed the bouncing ball wherever it happened to lead, not always understanding how the shin bone might ever connect with the hip bone but I had some crazy "faith" that, eventually, it would all come together.
I was a "wanderer", drifting in and out of life, hard core 24 hours a day engaged in "something" and then back to the bat cave to meditate and "drift off". As a result, there is a rather jagged path from beginning to middle to end and along the way I found many golden nuggets dropped at my feet but, for reasons that are probably (in retrospect) fairly self-evident, many of those golden geese were unceremoniously left behind as some other "divine inspiration" rained down from above.
I followed my own "unique path". But not all choices in life are easy ones -- and not every choice "works out". I have the bumps and bruises from stepping blindly off many a curb in to onrushing traffic and those "dark nights" that followed weren't fun. Finding some way to survive until morning "made me" what I am today but, again, the "shamanic roto-rooter" (when the blades are truly spinning) cuts and those cuts take time to heal.
Looking back, though, the original price I was forced to pay was the one that hurt most but isn't that the way, so often, it turns out to be.
The photo above was taken on April 22, 1978. It was my wedding day and my wife's name was Stephania Jo Ross.
I loved her -- and she LOVED me. It was one of those relationships in which sparks fly, in all directions, and wherever we went, people noticed. She was that beautiful, tall, thin, elegant; there was nobody like her and for some reason she loved me, too.
But in 1978 my inner pot was stirring and the "visions" that would later be wrestled to the ground as the foundation for my work as a "psychic" were just starting to burst through and as a 23 year old I was not yet equipped to understand them . . . and they were quite "insistent" on being heard.
As a result of listening to that inner voice -- and talking about it -- people began to see me, not as a golden child filled with potential but, instead, as a crazy man starting to "lose his shit".
I didn't understand what was happening and I couldn't stop it, either, and so eventually the relationship ended because I could not step away and focus on my marriage and the day to day realities of being a new husband. I wanted to "figure it out" and I let Jo Jo know that understanding what was "going on" INSIDE of me was THE most important thing in my life. MORE important than her :(
After Jo Jo and I split, I tuned it all out -- tuned her out. I guess it is safe to say that I didn't "suffer" from lack of female companionship after the split but, deep down, she was always there, always the yard stick with which I unconsiously measured all who followed.
Jo Jo died when she was only 40 years old; an angel in so many ways so maybe, on one level, this was a divine form of protection. Who knows. All I do know is that this relationship was, by far, the hardest thing I HAD to give up; the one that hurt the longest.
I didn't start out to be "psychic"; I set out to find out what the Hell was wrong with ME but ultimately that search turned out to be a search to "find God". I believe, though, that is exactly what I ultimately found and that by "finding me" I also found God, too.
For those who think psychic ability is easy please remember this -- it may be a gift but to bring it to the surface almost always involves a degree of sacrifice . . . the greater the gift, the greater the expectation.
Everything comes full circle and that, I guess, is the TRUE beauty of our earthly sojourn. I paid my ticket and took Mr. Toad's Wild Ride . . . and a new adventure will soon, once more, begin :)
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