Enlightened Horizons

Greetings all! 

So in the past four days I've told this to five or more people, so apparently I'm supposed to write about it!  This is about healing your heart.  So many people that I work on or do readings for have such closed off hearts.  I'm on eof THOSE people, in fact!  There's often very valid reasons for shutting it down but it's so important to realize that so you can allow love to flow.  I will be doing this exercise for the next week (and perhaps longer) when I go to sleep and try to open up my heart to give and recieve love more freely and I invite you to do it as well. 

First of all, why do we lock it up so tightly?  You may have lost a spouse and you never fully grieved or you're afraid of being hurt again.  You may have been in a relationship and been hurt so badly you never want to feel that pain again.  Or as a child you may not have been loved, or throughout your life you may not have ever felt loved, so why not just make sure you don't get hurt?  Sure.  Lock it up.  What if you did love and you were wounded when they left you and you just didn't get it?  Put a layer of ice over that heart then, too.  Now you're locked and cold.  Doesn't feel very good, does it?  What if you lost a child?  My heart would probably just disappear if I lost Zach.  It takes a strong person to allow love to flow after that.  And it happens every day, so it is possible.  I think you get my point, but I could go on and on.  So take a moment and ask if you know the reason your heart is being protected.  And then ask yourself are you open to giving and receiving love?  And do you want to feel love?  I hope you said yes.

Physically we can tell when the heart is closed, although it often takes a session with someone like me to point it out to you.  Heartburn, indigestion, acid reflux, or just a general tightness are examples of how the emotional piece of protecting a wounded heart can manifest.  How tight are your muscles?  I  have to say I have a new perspective when I see the people who work out so much create that firm wall of muscle around their chest... I want to ask them if they're happy, but I know better.  Usually.  Have you ever just had a tight feeling or a weight in your chest?  You may have all the medical tests done and they just can't find anything.  Strange, huh?  Or is it emotions that you're holding on to?  Food for thought. 

Lets get to the good stuff.  How can you open your heart?  Here's a simple exercise I use with people during hypnosis and reiki sessions.  You're going to have to read it and then try it, because I'm going to ask you to close your eyes while you do it.  So with your eyes closed, imagine a closed flower over your heart.  It's closed up tight.  It may be a rose, a tulip, a peony, whatever you see or feel is good and right for you.  What color is it?  And how does it feel?  Does it want to open?  If you get a no, ask why?  What emotion does this closed flower represent or feel?  Be open to whatever you get.  Ask it if it's ready to open up a tiny bit.  You may get a clear NO but if you get a yes, try to let it blossom just a little bit.  Could you get it to open?  How did that feel?  What color is the flower now?  What emotion does it feel or represent?  What do you need to know?  Why does it want to stay closed?  If you get an answer, ask if it's ready to let go of any old habits or patterns that are no longer serving your greater good, and ask to let go of them.  Take a deep breath in, and as you exhale let that emotion or reason flow out of your body, so it's no longer able to hold you back from love.  Once you can feel the color and energy of your heart, connect it to your brain. You can do this by imagining a lightbulb that is screwed in (or just fueled by) your heart, going up through your neck and into your head, creating that light and giving off comfortable warmth. Or you can just imagine that light in your heart spreading throughout your body. Again, play with it and see what feels good. When you get something that feels stuck, acknowledge it, take a breath, and let it go.

Keep playing with this, see how far you can get the flower to open.  It may not want to open at all, and that's fine.  But ask why.  Then ask what it needs to feel safe and open to the possibility of love.  Listen to what you get or feel for answers.  If you can't seem to picture the flower, do it with colors.  Or imagine  a block or wall of ice, or a huge icicle over your heart.  Can you get it to melt?  There are so many ways to do this and if you want to, find what works and feels best for you.  There's no wrong way to do it.  People always ask me what the colors mean.  Who knows?  Thats not true.  I do.  But it's not what I know them to be, it's what they feel like to YOU that's important.  YOU have all of the answers in your soul and your spirit.  It's just figuring out how you can tap into them.

Why is it so important to give and receive love?  Its part of why we're here.  We need love.  It's important to be able to both give and receive.  If you don't figure that out, your relationships with a loved one can suffer or not exist.  Your patterns will continue.  It doesn't matter how much you say I love you if your heart isn't speaking.  Your head, mouth and heart all have to be connected.  Practice this.  Have fun with it.  Learn, grow and evolve by opening your heart.  Now I guess I have to practice what I preach.....  Maybe a future post will be about my experiences, or I'll keep you updated on facebook... So stay tuned.  And good luck!

Love,

Sara

Almost two years ago I met a sweet dog named Tulip at a fundraiser in my home town.  It was a sleety day in March, the kind where side roads were treacherous and if you ran into a store you'd come out ten minutes later to find your car coated with a thin layer of ice.  I was pretty surprised when Tulip and her owner arrived at their designated time!  Tulip was sporting a colorful fleece coat and seemed to thoroughly enjoy her reiki and session with me.  The connection between her and her owner was touching and they both left a huge impression on me.

Last year her owner emailed to say that Tulip had indeed made it to her next birthday.  I can't remember exactly how old she was, but she was up there for sure!  Today the first email I opened was from Tulips mom saying she crossed over yesterday.  It included picture of Tulip taken yesterday on her walk.   She was covered in her signature fleece coat, shining in the sunlight.   It is a beautiful image and I wish that more people could have such an opportunity before saying goodbye.  I sobbed.  I sat at my computer and cried, and I'm crying even now as I tell it to you.  Funny how one dog made such an impression on me.  I usually don't have a lot of emotions attached to the animals or people I read, which allows me to do it without bias or judgement. 

I know she made it safely to the other side and I actually think her family will process her passing with strength, love, celebration and support for each other as they find their way through the grief.  I would just like to say thank you to Tulip for touching my heart and I hope she enjoys her "retirement" in the heavens.

Beside her image it says,

"Her sweet heart will rest in peace."

Sara

Hello all!

Yesterday I picked Z  up from school and we set out to find a Christmas tree.  I was shopping by price, Z was shopping by love of the perfect tree.  Which also means the tallest to an almost six year old.  We went to the first place but didn't fall in love with any.  The second stop was Westons farm stand in Conway, and Zach immediately walked up to a tree and said, "This one."  He did the same thing last year and it really was a perfect tree.  This time I have to say I was a little nervous because some of them were over $50 and this one had no tag on it.  Not to mention it did appear to be the tallest tree but only because of the nearly two feet of bare "whip" towering above it's thick green branches.  Or are they boughs?  Anyway.  We left the lot with a $35 tree tied to the roof of my Subaru. 

Years ago I was not in charge of tree duty.  Actually, even after I got divorced  someone would help me out, and this is only the second year that Z and I have been refining our own tree getting tradition.  It's pretty empowering and fantastic!  I got it off the car (as he gave me direction and encouragement), I sawed off a few inches on the bottom (as he pointed out I should lean onto it more to make it cut through easier) and got it in the house (as he stood inside and told me which way to move so I didn't hit the door).  Z guided it into the tree stand and he held it while I secured it.  And then we stepped back to check out our new find.  Once again, my boy had picked out a spectacular tree! 

Zach was all about putting up the ornaments and and was impatient as I strung the white lights. As we dug into the box of ornaments I realized that we are creating our own traditions.  When I was growing up my parents gave me an ornmament each year.  The last Christmas before my mom died, she was recovering from a hyserectomy but had carefully packaged all my childhood ornaments in a box.  The first year after she died I sobbed and drank my way through the tree decorating process, only to find in the morning that most ornaments were hung arms distance away from my drink.  The next year was only mildly easier, and I cried when I unwrapped the silver bell given to me on my second Christmas and the snoopy carrying a tree I was given in elementary school.  Every ornament had a story that I remember her telling me every year as we hung them.  She had also included ornaments that I had painted.  There is one from 1982; a tacky yellow sloppily painted glass ornament with the word "Frosty" scrawled in red.  There are two that I made while on college break.  My house was a stopping point for my room mates and friends headed to more distant locations.  My memories of sitting by the fire place and painting ornaments are some of my favorite college memories.  Both of my parents played piano beautifully and the night would inevitably end with us singing Frank Sinatra's My Way with the Christmas tree covered in white lights, red ribbons and our fresh creations setting the back drop for what could have been the scene for a timeless movie.

Last night as Z and I decorated the tree I shared with him the stories I'd been told over the 28 Christmases I had with my mom.  I also told him the stories behind the five ornaments he's accumulated so far that will be handed to him when he is a grown up.  He had decided he was the boss and would periodically stand back and admire our work, saying "Yup. She's a beauty!" and then resume hanging the soft and non breakables he was in charge of. He did keep reminding me that he had picked out the perfect tree and that I was surprised at just how good it was. It wasn't until he had gone to bed that I realized it was the first year I wasn't sad at all while decorating.  I was thrilled to have him as my side kick, as my son and to be creating our own family traditions. 

I have two favorite memories of last night.  One was as I pulled out an ornament, said, "Ohhhhhhh...  Grammy Mary Ellen LOVED this one!"  To which  he replied, "Mom, she loved everything."  And she did.  And then when I pulled out the angel she had painted he said, "Mom, I have more angels than Danette."  Danette is my friend who has taught me everything I know about angelsso to date, so that says a lot.  And he's right.  He does have more angels around him than anyone I know!

Sorry it's been such a long post, but its just amazing to me that this is my life.  Tomorrow Zachary turns six.  For six years we've been fine tuning our holiday traditions. This year really felt like "ours" and I love that.  Here's to many years of traditions for you and yours. 

Love,

Sara

Zach is a very intuitive child, which you know if you've read any of my other posts or have taken a workshop with me.  At my high school reunion I reconnected with a dear friend who has a 5 year old who sounds eerily similar to Zach.  She asked me what she can do to make him feel safe and the following is what I told her.  I recommend this to anyone regardless of how "open" your child is, and then find a way to allow them to explore their gifts while helping them live the fun and exciting life of a child.  This has been a huge lesson for me lately and I hope that all of you with children in your life find a nugget in here that resonates with you.

I call in protective energy to surround Zach and to keep him safe.  I often refer to this as "white lighting his belly."  When I "white light" something I breathe in from the sky, though my head. You can also breathe up from the ground; whichever feels better for you. First breath fills you with white light and you ask for protection. Next breath expands it from your belly and then surrounds you. You can visualize your child in that white coccoon with you or put him in his own. You can teach him to do it himself. Tell him to put a hand on his belly, so he can feel it. He takes the breath of white light in from the top of his head, and exhales it into his belly or out his hand and into his belly. Visualize it happening as he tries it and let him know if he cant light up his belly you can do it for him. But that even if he can't feel it he is able to do it. Tell him to call in his guardian angel or whatever he feels safe with and can relate to.  For Zach we call in the angels and Grammy Mary Ellen, who's on the other side and undoubtedly watching out for him! 

You can also do this for him while he's asleep. Actually, you can do this for him any time; even if he's far away. Close your eyes and just do it. Imagine him glowing in white and ask the angels to protect him. When Z's asleep I'll sometimes go in and put my hands out and over him. I ask the angels and god to protect him and keep him safe. And then my eyes usually get all fluttery and I just say whatever comes out, and it feels like spontaneous prayer. Which is odd and awesome at the same time.  Odd because I'm not much of a formal pray-er, but awesome because the words that come out astound me some times with their power. Sometimes I either imagine wiping the air above him or will literally "wipe" the energy around him in whatver pattern feels right. If I feel something creepy around him I push my hands at it and blow at it, and I tell it to go away, it's not allowed in my house.  There is a corner of his room that has two windows, and often I feel a thick presence behind the glass that I don't want any where near us.  If the curtains were up and the neighbors were looking in, they'd probably think I was nuts.  The image they'd see is of me with my eyes open at that point, exhaling like I was blowing out a cake loaded with candles and my hands pushing as if I expect Spider Mans webs to shoot from my palms.  Maybe they can see the white light coming out of them, who knows? 

Be sure to tell him if anything does creep him out he can tell it to go away and it has to listen to him. Have him say it to you, and then make sure it's done with power. Zach said "GO AWAY" and I felt the whoosh of energy. And then I told him I'm his enforcer, and if he does it and he doens't think it works let me know and I'll make them go away. But it's good to empower them and teach them these little tricks when they're the most open. 

It's almost 5:30pm on a Friday and I'm sitting in a quiet house.  I don't have anywhere to be, I have no one to take care of other than me.  Z is with his dad and it's my time to regroup.  I don't have to drive anywhere or talk to anyone.  If I don't want to.  It's strange.  And peaceful.

This has been a big week for me.  Zach loves his bunk beds and I now get to sleep alone again, with him in his fantastic room.  It's been a long time coming!  Two years ago I worked at a job where I would pick  Z up from Grammy Lanes, Z's adopted Grandmother, at 7:30pm.  He'd have been fed so we'd come in and go right up to bed.  He was in my bed because I was too tired to argue it and it was the only time I got to spend with him.  That was not how I envisioned raising him.  And then he got bigger, and sharing a bed with him wasn't quite relaxing.  He is a flailer when he sleeps.  The kid can throw an elbow like nobodys business and you never know when it's coming. 

I look at my life now.  It's been one year to the day (HOLY COW I just realized that!!!) since leaving that job.  I have time to watch him grow and explore and live.  And I'm a part of it.  We've gone to the ocean, done dinners with friends, gone skiing, sledding, swimming and had pancakes for breakfast.  I'm so grateful for all the things that have affected this path that I'm on.  Without being miserable at "That Job" I wouldn't have been pushed to find my own happiness.  And I'm loving it!  So tonight I guess I'm going to try to enjoy the quiet.  And not work.  Or stare at the computer.  I am going to sit in Z's top bunk for a little bit because his room is wayyyyyyyyyyy cooler than mine now. 

Isn't it interesting that the one quiet night I have is the anniversary date of my freedom.  I'm so glad I took the time to write this or I never would have noticed.  Cheers to that!

Sara

Today was a great day.  Today I had the conscious thought of, "Wow.  I am exactly where I want to be right now."  That's amazing.  How many times does that happen?  Not very many.  I think we all get sucked into the flow of life and are so busy swimming or treading or drowning that we don't actually realize when things are going really well. 

I had a hypnosis client for smoking cessation first, followed by two long distance readings.  One is someone I've met along my way and if we lived closer I'd be hanging out with her and chatting about angels and the meaning of life over coffee.  I love people who are open to being active participants in life and getting the most out of it.  She's one of those people.  The second reading was about animals, but there was clearly a message for the owner as well.  So often animals are our mirrors- it just takes someone like me to point that out and help decipher what that means. 

This afternoon I got Z's bunkbeds finished, got a mattress for the top and got to watch him explore it with pure joy.  He was funny about the ladder; wasn't so sure he liked going up it and he seemed in awe of  his new found perspective of his room.  After about 20 ups and downs he said he wanted to make a sign that said he gets the top bunk, no one else.  So I climbed up and we chatted about that....  Zach doesn't like his room because he said it gives him bad dreams.  I told him I had a very special gift for him that would only let in good dreams.  I gave Z a dreamcathcher a friend made me about 14 years ago. I lived in a great old farm house with 5 other people after college, and some of my most fun memories are from that time.  I had totally forgotten about the dreamcatcher until this morning, when I noticed it hanging beside my mirror.  It was nice to dust it off and remember the fun I had back then, but it feels perfect hanging just out of reach from his bunk.

I've never seen Zach eat dinner as fast as he did tonight!  By 6pm he was telling me it was time for bed.  He got ready for his bath, but said he had to check something in his top bunk.  So my naked almost six year old climbed up and made sure it was still ok.  It was.  He took a bath, got a quick hair cut (which I'm hoping turns out better than the last time I tried that) and by 7pm he was out cold in his top bunk with Snoopy tucked under his arm.  My little boy is growing up. 

Today was a great day.  I am reminded that I love what I do.  I love helping people find peace with their journey, to better understand it.  I love that I get time to be with Zach and that he is still a little boy and that I need to foster his need for exploration and silliness.  I hope that tomorrow is just as good, and that if it's not that I can find comfort in knowing there's a whole lot of people who have enhanced my life just as much as I have touched theirs.  Thank you for that.  It made today great!

I just got home after a fantastic night at the Center for Collaborative Energies in Littleton, NH.  I made the mistake of turning on the TV as I ate a late dinner, and now I'm a bit glued to it.  Rarely do I sit and watch TV and it was still on PBS from Z's stint in front of it this morning.  Now I'm listening to documentary on banjo music, which reminded me of a christmas when I was growing up. 

My dad had apparently said how he'd love to play banjo, so mom thought a banjo would be the perfect gift.  She had wrapped it in the case and tucked it under the sofa because she figured he'd guess what it was it right away.  She pulled it out and handed it to him, and when he peeled back the paper he said, "YOU GOT ME A MACHINE GUN?"  And he was serious.  I wonder if the banjo is still in the case back under the sofa?  I'd love it.  I'd rather have someone show up in my life who loves to play the banjo for me.  Or have Zach learn so he can play.  Sort of on demand, so it doesn't get overwhelming.  My personal banjo boy.  Better than a pool boy, don't you think?

Because this whole post is just a little too out there even for me, I feel the need to make it a bit more legitimate.  So here's your philosophical thought, posed in an attempt to not lose potential clients or supporters as a result of the ridiculousness of the prior content.

Sometimes we expect something, and even though the packaging may not look exactly like it should, our minds are so conditioned or convinced that we ignore all the signs and still expect it to be THAT.  Whatever THAT is or was in your mind before you opened the case. 

Yesterday was an odd day.  I had an experience that didn't feel great, but didn't make me run away.  I didn't know what to do with it. As I was falling asleep I sort of "took it out" of my head and held it, just to see what it looked and felt like.  It felt like a very sharp edged cube made of glass or ice.  It didn't feel warm, comfortable, friendly, or appropriate.  And then I wondered "what the hell do I do with it now?"  I put the cube down in front of me and zoomed my view out and backward, giving me a much broader perspective of everything in my life. 

From this vantage point, I couldn't even see the angry little cube.  All I saw was the big picture sort of hung on a huge wall in front of me.  I was of a colorful scene that I couldn't identify, but when I zoomed in a bit I could tell that my life was made up of tiny little snapshots.  If I zoomed in on one I'd see a moment in time but nothing else.  There was no frame of reference because the snapshot isn't dynamic.  It just "is" what it is.  I backed up again and took in the whole picture again, and it was beautiful.  Lots of colors with the details hidden within them. 

Then I wanted to find that stupid little cube.  (that shouldn't surprise you if you know that I poke bees nests....) Turns out it was really hard to find, which I found funny because just minutes earlier I really just wanted to smash it into little bits.  But by the time it was part of my mosiac I could barely identify it as the new edition to the bottom row of what makes up ME.  Stupid cube......  It had less power and it's part of my history now.  I'm glad it's been added to the mix and it's jagged edges are now completely surrounded by better things.  I may eat an ice cube today just to let it know that if I want to, I can take it, process that cube and spit it out.  My choice.  Not the cubes. 

Take that cube.

A few weeks ago I noticed a hornet flying around the back of my car after packing up from an event.  I was driving down the highway and told him to stay back there, because I'm a bit of a freak show when they get near me and I tend to panic.  I hadn't seen him again until Friday when I was on my way to the Old Colony hotel in Kennebunk ME for the Dog Lovers Weekend.  I checked in, brought my luggage to my room and then went to the car to get everything for work.  I opened the back, looked for the hornet, didn't see him, and grabbed my bag.  And got stung on the middle finger of my right hand. 

Now the interesting part was that last time I got stung by a handful of bees was over 10 years ago when I stepped on a nest while picking black berries.  I was sore but ok till the next day, when my entire leg swelled up.  I used to have an epi pen but never got it refilled, so I wasn't really sure what to expect.  I took a benadryl (only one because I figured I needed a clear mind to do readings!) and hoped that reiki would still flow and I wouldn't die and miss out on a really fun weekend.

I set up my space, chatted with a few people, and afterwards talked to a good friend.  She didn't know that I had been stung and in our conversation about something unrelated warned me "Don't stick your hand in the bees nest."  WHAT?  Then that night I was texting with someone else, who was also unaware that I had been stung and they said, "Watch out for the bees nest."  Completely unrelated topic again.  WHAT?  Then on Saturday I was chatting with two vendors whom I love, and we were chuckling about some of the situations I tend to get myself into.  She said, "Don't poke the bees nest, huh?"  I nearly fell over.  I told her about me getting stung, and how she was the third person to tell me that.  We all got a good laugh but I was pretty spooked.

Luckily my finger didn't hurt throughout the weekend and I'm guessing that all the Reiki I did probably helped.  As I was driving from Kennebunk to my next gig in Wolfeboro on Sunday the hornet showed up on my visor.  I wasn't even thinking about it because I thought they died once they stung.  I swerved to the side of the road and killed it.  And I screamed at it that I was sorry I killed it but that it wasn't very nice.  Perhaps I looked a little crazy but I was scared and not thrilled to see it again.  This morning my finger is throbbing and hurts, which prompted me to review the whole situation in my head and share it with you.

So here's some food for thought.  How many times have you been warned about something and totally ignored it?  Has the universe tried to tell you in many ways and you still ignored it?  Why?  That's what I'm trying to figure out.  My warnings couldn't have been any clearer, except that my human brain doesn't want to listen and I'm still thinking about poking the beehive with a stick.  Why the heck do we do that???  Hopefully my aching finger will remind me throughout the day that I don't really like this feeling.  And that was the result of only one sting. And that I have free will and can poke the beehive or walk away from it.  Now what the heck I am doing with this stick?

Sara

I would like to start with a disclaimer.  I know nothing about what I'm talking about other than what the horses have told me or I've picked up from a few random conversations.  I'm actually looking for some guidance or someone who is familiar with what is going on, because there's a story that needs to be told.  And it's not my story.

This week there were two mustangs that had been "rescued" from the wild open spaces of America that broke free from their paddock.  This is the second time in two weeks they got out.  This time, however, I saw them (and a donkey) standing in the middle of Stark Road as the police cruiser and the owner tried to get them to go back to their enclosure.  As I sat there in my car I begged them to go home, and it was obvious they didn't want to.  They said NO.  And if a horse says no, there's a pretty good chance they mean it!  So then I invited them to go to my yard.  I learned today that although they never actually showed up in my yard, they were a few houses away.  So close!

This past weekend I met an amazing woman, Mona, who runs the Ever After Mustang Rescue in Biddeford, ME.  I have her brochure sitting next to my laptop and thought that it was pretty fitting that this all went down within two days of me meeting her.  Today I went to someones house who just adopted another wild mustang that had been starved almost to death in Fryeburg last winter.  How sad that these beautiful, wild creatures have been "rescued" from the wild only to be tortured in our yards.  I just don't get it.

So today I got to chat with Ty, the younger mustang that has been enjoying food but is still too spooked to allow anyone near him.  I asked him what he wanted, and he said that people need to understand what is happening.  And that he could very easily be happy in his new pasture, but if his story isn't told then the pain and suffering he's endured has been for naught.  I asked him to tell me what happened and I very vividly saw the image of the roundup.  It was horrific.  I actually cried, and even typing it brings me to tears.  He said that young horses were injured or killed, and that they were seperated from family.  He also said that he was one of the ones who lost it's mother.  And that as humans, we need to understand how this affects them and that we NEED compassion and empathy for us to evolve as a species.  They are part of our lesson, but the story needs to be told. 

This is where I'm asking for help!  If anyone would like to help tell Ty's story, I'd be very grateful.  His owner knows I'm putting it out there and is on board with it.  I am going to be chatting with him again soon and hope that we do in fact learn from all of this.  Its nice to sit in my little bubble of ignorance (while thinking I'm fairly enlightened) but it's a whole other thing when I am faced with the unbelievably evil things some humans do to animals.  It's heart breaking.