Spiritual Sciences EMagazine

Issue: # 3

September 2008

A monthly newsletter for people who are prevailing on their spiritual journey. It's all about keeping the faith, maintaining courage, developing enlightenment, and creating a life you can love
through service to others.

    Welcome to the third issue of Connecting You With Spirit! In last month's issue, I explained how "spiritual boarders" often share your living space with you...whether you realize it or not!
     For our September spiritual adventure, I'm going to reveal what happened when I asked for guidance from my guardian angel John Reid in regard to the very noisy, tangible spirits that existed in my family's rented townhouse. John told me all about who they were and why they stubbornly remained on the property...having taken an interest in Flynn, our year-old baby son.
     Unlike a carbon footprint, you are supposed to leave behind a spiritual footprint that represents how you helped make the earthly plane a more enlightened place than the way you found it!

The True Story of the Haunted Townhouse - Part II

     "Thanks for invitin' me to ride in, Little Missy," said my guardian angel, John Reid, in a very good imitation of John Wayne. He took the seat next to Britt.
     "John!" I interrupted. "Why didn't you tell me about this place before we moved in?"
    "There was no reason to," shrugged the angel. "You needed more spacious accommodations, you had a fixed budget, you desired a peaceful neighborhood, and you wanted to be close to the office. This dwelling fit the bill admirably-on all counts."
     "But it is overrun with spirits!" I argued.
     "So is most every other dwelling on the earthly plane," he said. "These spirits are simply more tangible than most. Poor Marsdon-he hasn't seen or heard them...but all of his tenants have."
     "But these spirits are not like angels or deceased family members-they're uninvited!"
     "They were here first," John pointed out. "You're the ones who are
uninvited."
     "But we're human beings," I persisted. "We belong here!"
     "Have you never heard the expression, 'squatter's rights'?" he asked.
     "Why don't spirits just stay in heaven?"
     "Why didn't you just choose to remain in your condo?"
     "We needed something bigger."
     "The spirits were, apparently, needing something other than what they
could find in heaven."
     "But how could anything on the earthly plane compare to heaven?"
     "When a physical body dies, the soul departs and makes the journey back to its home in heaven," replied John. "A soul, otherwise known as a spirit, can remain there, or, it can choose to return to the earthly plane.
     "Thanks for invitin' me to ride in, Little Missy," said my guardian angel, John Reid, in a very good imitation of John Wayne. He took the seat next to Britt.
     "John!" I interrupted. "Why didn't you tell me about this place before we moved in?"
    "There was no reason to," shrugged the angel. "You needed more spacious accommodations, you had a fixed budget, you desired a peaceful neighborhood, and you wanted to be close to the office. This dwelling fit the bill admirably-on all counts."
     "But it is overrun with spirits!" I argued.
     "So is most every other dwelling on the earthly plane," he said. "These spirits are simply more tangible than most. Poor Marsdon-he hasn't seen or heard them...but all of his tenants have."
     "But these spirits are not like angels or deceased family members-they're uninvited!"
     "They were here first," John pointed out. "You're the ones who are
uninvited."
     "But we're human beings," I persisted. "We belong here!"
     "Have you never heard the expression, 'squatter's rights'?" he asked.
     "Why don't spirits just stay in heaven?"
     "Why didn't you just choose to remain in your condo?"
     "We needed something bigger."
     "The spirits were, apparently, needing something other than what they
could find in heaven."
     "But how could anything on the earthly plane compare to heaven?"
     "When a physical body dies, the soul departs and makes the journey back to its home in heaven," replied John. "A soul, otherwise known as a spirit, can remain there, or, it can choose to return to the earthly plane.
     Sometimes a spirit has a special connection with a certain place on earth.
     "But the spirit in my closet was executed by hanging!" I argued. "How 'special' was that?"
     "I said that a spirit can have a special connection to an area. The soul may return to a place where it enjoyed great happiness...or, revisit a place where it experienced trauma. Most people on the earthly plane have a number of spirits co-existing with them as spiritual borders."
     "But how come they don't know it?"
     "Who says they don't know it?" smiled John. "How many times do people investigate a noise they can't identify...and then find no apparent cause?"
     Britt and I exchanged glances, relating to what he had said. But I was still confused.
     "Why would a spirit choose to revisit the earthly plane to reenact something so terrible...when it doesn't have to?" I asked.
     "Why do human beings choose to reenact the same torturous issues over and over again by creating a succession of difficult relationships, or unsatisfying jobs?"
     "Sweet'nin," said Britt, gently touching my arm. "Why not open the floor to John?" It was my husband's way of politely saying, stop arguing and listen so we can find out what's going on!
     I pursed my lips, took a sip of hazelnut coffee, and respectfully asked John to proceed.
     "What I have to share will likely amaze you, because it took place on the very spot that you now call home," he began. "Everything you have seen and heard in your new home-and will see and hear-is a spiritual reenactment of what transpired in the past."
     Britt and I nodded, eager to hear the true-life story.
     "In the early 1840s, this parcel of land held a makeshift jail, housing
individuals accused of crimes that ranged from stealing chickens to murder. Some of the prisoners were guilty and some were innocent...but swiftly and surely, all met the same fate. Each of the accused was forced to climb the stairs leading to the crudely-built gallows-"
     "I told you that I heard that CLUMP...CLUMP...CLUMP sound!" I gasped to Britt. "I was so scared! It sounded like someone climbing wooden stairs-"
     "-that are no longer there," added Britt.
     "But were right here-where we live now!" I said. "I thought I was going
crazy!"
     "Excuse me, you two," said the angel. "May I continue?"
     "Sorry, John," I said, duly chastised.
     "As I was saying, each of the accused was forced to climb the stairs that led to the gallows. The small gallows that stood right next to the jail could only accommodate one hanging at a time. Although this particular part of the Old West wasn't yet very populated...there were always a handful of spectators who gathered to watch with morbid curiosity."
     "I've read that people used to bring their children to watch executions," said, shaking my head.
    "The self-proclaimed local law authorities had the first and last word, and there was no recourse to the decisions they made. Lacking a system of checks and balances, the innocent were routinely hung along with the guilty, having no one to fight for their rights."
     Then John asked us to look outside through the sliding glass door off the dining room. Britt and I swiveled in our chairs. The angel directed our
attention to a gnarled old tree that stood just a few feet from our front door.
     "Before the gallows was built, hangings were conducted from that very tree. However, this practice was soon discontinued due to the inconvenience of branches snapping before the accused could sufficiently strangle."
      Britt and I stared wide-eyed.
     "After the gallows was constructed, the hangings were carried out like
clockwork, and continued for several years until the local citizenry began to voice their objections to the increasing number of executions being conducted without benefit of a fair trial."
     "All the mysterious sights and sounds now make sense," I said, truly
saddened and shocked by what John had explained. The noises were actually a tangible reenactment of footsteps taken long ago by condemned prisoners climbing the stairs to the gallows where they met a premature, horrible death.
     "The closet in your bedroom stands just where the gallows did," John
added.
     "While we live here, do I need to resign myself to the possibility of
witnessing other hangings-whenever I need to change my clothes?"
     "In so many words...yes," he answered.
     "Can I turn off those images somehow?"
     "In so many words...no."
     I frowned. I had already known the answer before I posed the question.
     Years before, I had learned that my psychic ability did not allow me to
discriminate, or pick and choose what I sensed.
     "Remember that your spiritual borders wish you no harm," John assured us. "You will enjoy living here."
     "No wonder Marsdon gave us such a good deal," commented Britt.
     "There is one more insightful tidbit of information that I need to relay
about spirits in this building," said John.
     "More information?" I asked, all at once overcome with a shivering
sensation.
     "There's something taking place in Flynn's room."
     "In the baby's room?" I gasped, consumed with fear. "Is he safe?"
     "No need to become overwrought," the angel said, patting my arm. "Are you curious to learn why your offspring becomes fussy in the middle of the night?"
     "Ever since we moved in!" I quickly responded. "He's never done that
before...so we figured that it was part of adjusting to a new environment."
"He has spiritual playmates," John informed us.
     "Oh...you mean like our deceased family members?" I asked. "Britt's Dad comes to visit; and my grandfather and grandmother, and my Aunt BeBe-"
     "They know better than to wake the baby."
     "So...who is it?" I asked, now really shivering.
     "Murder victims."
     "What?"
     "Flynn is the first little boy to occupy this townhouse since it was built," John explained. "There is a small group of boys-in spirit-who are most excited that he has moved in."
     "You've got to be kidding!"
     "Not at all," replied John. "The boys-who were best friends-belonged to several close-knit pioneer families who lived on farms in this area. On a
summer day in 1847, they were all wrongly accused of stealing. In spite of the fact that their families argued their innocence and begged for mercy, each was forced up the stairs to the gallows-one by one-where they were hung. And here they remain, by choice, cavorting in perpetual boyhood-much like the Lost Boys in Peter Pan's Never Never Land."
     "Flynn can't talk yet, so he couldn't tell us that anything was going on," I realized, upset. "What should we do?" I was immediately concerned that the roughhouse antics of a group of unruly young boys in spirit were scaring our baby.
     "Communicate with the spirits, and simply ask them to leave Flynn's
room," John suggested. "Address them in a reasonable and respectful manner. They have no desire to cause any harm to you...or your baby."
     I put my hand on my bulging tummy and thought of the little girl I was
carrying, fretting about how she might be affected by the spiritual Grand
Central Station atmosphere of the property.
     "None of the resident spirits wish to cause any harm," repeated John,
reading my mind. "They wish to coexist peacefully."
     Naturally, I decided not to waste any time following through with John's suggestion. After thanking him for the information, I lumbered up the steep flight of stairs to the second floor with my husband in tow. Britt and I quietly tiptoed into Flynn's room. We stared down at him in his crib and watched him as he slept soundly.
     I looked around the room and saw nothing amiss. A menagerie of stuffed animals sat motionless on the floor, ready for play. The other toys and games that colorfully filled Flynn's dresser shelves remained undisturbed. The nursery was peaceful and serene, and I was beginning to feel a little silly. Everything seemed so...normal. But I reminded myself that spiritual beings are not always present at every given moment-and that certainly doesn't mean that they don't exist. From experience, I knew that John would never send me on a spiritual wild-goose chase, but my logical thought processes suddenly began to discount the incredible story he had shared. Although I had been witness to other supernatural occurrences, I had not seen-nor felt-any tangible evidence of the young spiritual pranksters in the nursery.
     Britt was regarding me with a "So what gives?" expression, and I gestured toward the door. We began to tiptoe back out of the room. Then, as if on cue, the group of boys materialized, seemingly oblivious to our presence.
     They were dressed in dirty, torn clothing reminiscent of the Old West, and they began to make a racket with their boisterous laughter and off-key singing. They moved around the room as if very comfortable there, rousing each other with teasing banter and playfully thrown punches. I wondered why we had never heard them on the baby monitor? I poked Britt excitedly, but I could tell from his blank expression that he couldn't see or hear them.
     Several of the young spirits approached Flynn's crib, and reached in as if to gently nudge him awake.
     "C'mon!" one boy softly called to him. "Let's play!"
     Flynn responded by turning away and howling with frustration. It was
obvious that he could see and hear his unwelcome visitors...but he wanted to continue sleeping.
     "Aw, c'mon!" said the boy spirit again, this time nudging Flynn a little
harder. "Don't you want to play?"
     Flynn started to cry and kick, upset that his slumber had been disturbed. It was exactly the same sounds he had been making throughout the night since we first moved in. Now I had firsthand knowledge of what had been happening!
     "Let him alone," said another one of the boys. "I told ya before-he's too little." He picked up one of Flynn's toy airplanes and asked his friends,
"Whaddya 'spose this is?"
     "Hey-you boys!" I said in a furious whisper, forgetting all about John's
advice to be 'reasonable and respectful.' "You're scaring my baby! I want you to leave! And don't ever come back!"
     The spirits were startled by my outburst, and they seemed shocked that I could see them so clearly. The boy immediately dropped the red toy airplane. In an instant, they were gone. My outburst and the sudden shift of electrical energy in the room caused Flynn to kick and fuss for a few moments before he went back to sleep.
     I didn't want to disturb Flynn any further, so I pulled Britt out of the room. Once we were in the hallway, I excitedly shared what had happened. Then I asked him if he thought we needed to move Flynn into our room in case the Lost Boys came back. Britt smiled, yawned, took me by the arm and led me toward our bedroom, all the while assuring me that everything would be okay. For the first time since we moved in, Flynn rested peacefully for the remainder of the night...which meant that we could, too.
     The next morning was a Saturday, and I was awakened close to seven by a series of swift, strong kicks inside of me. Our daughter, whom we would name Megan, wasn't due for another month, but she was certainly making her presence known. I reluctantly opened my eyes. Although still in bed, Britt was already awake. The sun was softly filtering through the closed blinds, birds were gaily chirping, and we could hear Flynn happily talking and singing in his crib down the hall.
     Not a morning person, I was only half-listening as Britt started to talk about going to our favorite place for breakfast, and then detailing all the things he wanted to do in preparation for the new baby's arrival.
     I groggily remembered the supernatural experience from the night before. Had I just imagined it? I stumbled down the hall into Flynn's room. He grinned brightly when he saw me and held out his arms. As I gathered his little body into a tight hug, something out of place caught my eye. It was the bright red toy airplane that lay on the floor next to the bureau...exactly where one of the Lost Boys had dropped it.

Next month: The story continues! Next, I'll take you to the house we were predestined to own, inhabited by the spirit of a young woman who was meant to join our family as an adopted daughter!

Synchronicity

My father called me and asked a strange question: He asked not to be kept alive by machines if something happened to him. I said " Yes, sure, ok." He was fit and tan and healthy, why would he ask such a question? I got a call next day. He had a massive stroke, and when I got there my sisters told me he was being kept alive only by machines. He died two weeks later. I told them about the call. I had a dream that we were dancing. My father was a good dancer, like many his age. It was a fox-trot. An old song but I couldn't remember what it was. I woke up and put on the coffee and turned on the radio. There was that song! On the radio! I still couldn't remember what the title was. I called the station. It was "Someone to Watch Over Me."

S.H.E., Massachusetts

From the website: Sharing Stories of Synchronicities and Flow

Quote of the Month

"Venting is healthy. We either explode, or we implode.
If we explode, our friends are kind enough to listen; if we implode, our heart is crushed under the weight."

Jennifer H. Rogers
(1973- )
Attorney, artist, and activist

Channeled Question of the Month

Dear Kim: I need some advice before I stir a bee's nest. One of my nephew's lost his mother and father, respectively, and he chose to live with a non-relative family. My immediate family and I have been close to my nephew and he knows we deeply care about him and help him in any way that we can. However, I have a deep feeling that the family he is living with is taking advantage of him financially. Although the family appears to be "a model" family and with good moral values, I still get the sensation that everything is not exactly right. I will say that my family and I were deeply hurt when my nephew decided to not choose us as his "immediate family." So, am I being an over-protective and jealous aunt or should I keep doing things the way we are for my nephew's sake? My nephew is now 18 years of age and ready to go into the Seminary.
Marta, 54, Austin, TX

Dear Marta: At eighteen, your nephew became a grown man (chronologically anyway!), and decided that he wanted to make his own choices. This decision was triggered by the loss of his parents. He was directed by spirit to live with the other family because he was supposed to be a spiritual teacher for them. They are not taking advantage of him in any way. Your nephew's adopted family was supposed to teach him about independence and empowerment. Your nephew felt that your family was not recognizing the fact that he was a mature man; and, at times, he felt as if certain family members were controlling and constantly telling him what to do. The move was his way of establishing important personal boundaries before the familial rapport began to splinter and disintegrate. He did not intend to hurt anyone with his decision, and desired to maintain a relationship with your family...as long as his boundaries are acknowledged and respected. The key is to treat him with the respect you would show someone twice his age, and you'll have a better relationship than ever before. By the way, I do not "see" him choosing the priesthood as a life's work. Your nephew will start his own business, get married, have children...and lead a very happy, secure life.

Profiles in Success

     "When I first had a session with you, it was a very hard time for me. I went through a heartbreaking divorce three years prior. I felt lost and lonely. I had a few relationships during those three years but none of them the fulfilling one that I had dreamed of. After our first session you gave me some hope in telling me Mr. Wonderful was coming soon. A few months went by, and I decided to come and see you in person again. So, in September, 2007, I came to see you at your office and had an even better session with you.
     You immediately connected with my father who had passed away. You not only contacted him but you completely described the kind of man he was. You also described where he is now and what he is doing. Needless to say you nailed everything perfectly. You said he was my son's guardian angel.
     Then you said a girl was coming to me this year. I have two sons and have always wanted a daughter, so this news made me extremely excited. As the session went on, you started talking about the Mr. Wonderful that was about to enter my life in the New Year. You specifically described him: dark hair, blue eyes, warm, cozy, funny, and had no children. You said I would meet him at a restaurant and when he touched me, I would feel warmth come over my body as if he was healing me. I'll never forget that when you were describing our meeting, you got emotional and wanted to cry. It was very powerful.
     A couple of months passed and I kept in touch with you via email, still very lonely and sad, wanting so badly to meet this special man. One day I was so frustrated that I emailed you and said, "Kim, I went to the bookstore you suggested and nothing happened! I really don't want to travel across town chasing after him!" And you sweetly responded with, "Carmela, just give it time, just let it happen. Have you ever considered a dating service? My guides talk about them all the time."
     In the next week I sat down at my computer very hesitant to get into the online dating scene. I thought "one month", that's all I'm going to sign up for. I had many matches and deleted a lot of them without even reading the profile until I saw "Billy." As soon as I saw his picture I was drawn to him like a magnet. I initiated contact immediately. He responded right away. We talked on the phone and spoke for hours. He told me that he had been all set to cancel his membership with the dating service the same week we met because he had been on for almost 7 months with no success.
     After just 2 weeks we met in person at Macaroni Grill. When I saw him I felt like I had known him forever. His looks were exactly how you described him, and you were right when he hugged me I felt a familiar warmth run through my body. Today, seven months later, when he looks into my eyes I still feel as if he is jumping into my body. He has no children and would like to have at least one. Again, just as you said in our session. Now I anxiously await this pregnancy and my soon-to-be-born little girl."

Carmela S. Tomball TX.

Guest Contributor

Cripple to Champion

by Alan Davidson

ROME, Italy: On September 7, 1960, Wilma Rudolph made Olympic history by becoming the first woman, not to mention the first African-American woman, to win three gold medals. Graceful, fast and slender, the Italian press called her La Gazzella-the gazelle. Her accomplishments in track and field-taking first place in both the 100-meter and 200-meter dash and in the 4x100 relay-opened the door for women and girls in previously all-male track and field events.

Wilma Rudolph wins the women's 100-meter dash in the 1960 Olympics.

     "Gazelle" would not have been young Wilma's nickname, however. Born in segregated Clarksville, Tennessee, on June 23, 1940, the twentieth of twenty-two children, she weighed just four-and-a-half pounds. Her parents were hardworking but quite poor.
     Wilma's mother nursed her sickly child through the measles, chicken pox, double pneumonia and scarlet fever. When Wilma's left foot and leg drew up and turned in, the diagnosis of polio seemed final. Doctors gave the little girl no hope of ever walking without braces or crutches, if at all.
     But her mother didn't accept the doctors' opinions. Twice a week for two years, she drove Wilma the fifty miles to Nashville for treatment at Meharry Hospital, part of Fisk University, a black college. The doctors showed Mrs. Rudolph how to exercise Wilma's muscles, and she in turn taught the therapies to Wilma's brothers and sisters. Every day Wilma got those exercises, done with love and the conviction that she would be healthy and whole.
     By age eight, Wilma was not only walking without crutches and braces, but playing basketball in the backyard. Wilma joined her junior-high basketball team, but the coach didn't put her in a single game. By her sophomore year in high school Wilma started as guard. Her performance caught the attention of Ed Temple, coach of the Tennessee State University Tigerbells, who offered her a full scholarship when she graduated. Besides guiding the basketball team to a championship Wilma also excelled at track and field, earning a spot in the 1956 Olympics in Melbourne, Australia, where the sixteen-year-old brought home a bronze medal in the 4x4 relay. But it was her outstanding accomplishments in Rome that brought Rudolph fame and influence.

Wilma Rudolph with her three gold medals.

     When her hometown of Clarksville wanted to have a parade in her honor, Rudolph insisted that the celebration be open to whites and blacks, not just one or the other as was customary; the parade and dinner following were the first integrated events in Clarksville. Rudolph returned to Tennessee State and earned her B.A. in education in 1963. She was a lifelong advocate of racial and gender equality.
     Rudolph's successful pursuit of her athletic goals, coupled with her mother's fierce determination, serve as a testament to the body's capacity for greatness when the power of physical energy is in harmony with one's emotional and spiritual centers.
     Such alignment allows not only health and well-being but the knowledge that we can count on our bodies as a foundation for further growth. In Wilma Rudolph's case, developing her physical capabilities probably saved her life. These levels of energy represent the layers of our "intelligences," or the Essential IQs.
       According to Howard Gardner, the Harvard Psychologist, in his book Frames of Mind: The Theory of Multiple Intelligences, humans do not have just mental intelligence-the ability for thinking and learning-but emotional, physical and spiritual intelligences.

Howard Gardner, author of Frames of Mind

     We have the potential for being fit, for seeing ourselves through others' eyes, for the journey toward contentment and enlightenment. I add moral intelligence to Gardner's list: a level of intelligence that enables not only to understand another's pain but the desire for justice, too.
     I call these our Five Vital IQs: Physical, Emotional, Mental, Moral, and Spiritual Intelligences. Wilma Rudolph, like so many of our Olympic and professional athletes, was a Physical IQ genius. Physical Intelligences rests on six qualities. The foundation is Sense and Center. On this foundation are four pillars: Strength, Flexibility, Grace and Bearing.
     Sensation is the language of the body; a language many of us have ignored for most of our lives. To feel the sensations of our bodies is to actually experience ourselves; raw, life coursing through us, present in our most immediate sense.
     Centering is a key element of all the martial arts, from Aikido, Tai Chi, to Tae Kwan Do. This simple, yet profound, practice asks us to drop into our center of gravity. The Asian traditions call this part of the body, about two inches below the navel, the tan 'tien in China or the hara in Japan.
     Strength relies on "Calisthenics" which comes from the Greek words kallos for beauty and thenos for strength. These healthful exercises are designed to create muscle fitness, which includes muscular strength, gracefulness, and physical well being.
     Flexibility represents much more than just stretching the muscles or connective tissues. Good stretching affects three different parts of our bodies: the nerves, the muscle fibers and the connective tissues.
     Grace is often simply called balance, conscious movement, or skillful movement. It's ease and suppleness of movement and bearing.
     Bearing is the stance and posture of the body in space. It is the natural alignment of the skeleton. Balance is the interplay of gravity and our bones, and a reflection of our overall sense of wholeness and ease.
     By tending these six simple qualities you can begin to peak your Physical Intelligence. By peaking this vital IQ you create energy in our body, and our lives, that we can then use to grow and develop our other IQs. The body is the foundation for each of the other Intelligences.
     If tending her Physical Intelligence--exercises done every day with love and conviction--can turn Wilma Rudolph, a girl diagnosed as a cripple into a gold medalist, think what they can do for you.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Alan Davidson is the author of the Free report "Body Breakthroughs for Life Breakthroughs: How to Peak Your Physical, Emotional, Mental, Moral, and Spiritual IQs for a Sensational Life" available at
http://www.throughyourbody.com.

Alan's also the author of Body Brilliance: Mastering Your Five Vital Intelligences, the #1 Health and Wellness book and Winner of Two 2007 Book-of-the-Year Awards.

http://www.ThroughYourBody.com

Blonde Moment

One summer evening during a violent thunderstorm a mother was tucking her son into bed. She was about to turn off the light when he asked with a tremor in his voice, "Mommy, will you please sleep with me tonight?" The mother smiled and gave him a reassuring hug. "I can't dear," she replied. "I have to sleep in Daddy's room." A long silence was broken at last by his shaky little voice: "The big sissy."

Thank you for allowing me to spend this time with you! Please write to me with your own success and synchronicity stories...I'd love to include them in a future issue. Until next month, wishing you all the best blessings!