I was just about to put up a post on caring bridge yesterday, when the internet went down, and was out for most of the day. I managed to go elsewhere to get that post up, but didn’t do anything else on the internet. The post itself feels crucial, in terms of my son Colin’s healing process, and I’m not surprised that the drama it describes occurred on October 10, the very day death/rebirth Pluto turned to go direct.
https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/colincudmorehealing
October 11, 2023: REVELATION: EVERYTHING WE WERE DOING FOR HIS NERVE PAIN WAS WRONG!
Okay, and another astonishing revelation also from that very day, which involves another confirmation of my conjecture that some trickster visitor from another realm has been putting me on notice, by working within the material realm, literally “moving stuff around.”
BTW: I first came across that phrase in the dream world, many years ago, when in the presence of my deceased husband Jeff Joel, as all sorts of seemingly material objects appeared and disappeared from his hands. I asked him what he was doing, and he responded, nonchalantly, “Moving stuff around.” I loved the phrase, and it made me realize that in a sense, that‘s what we humans are doing here on planet Earth, MOVING STUFF AROUND! And, I added a corollary: “It’s always an excuse for relationship.” Think of it: money, data, furniture, books, whatever! It’s all stuff, and we spend our time preoccupied with continuously moving it around. And, as the Buddhists advise, when we get “attached” to any of it, we suffer.
Okay, so that’s the preamble to the story I want to tell today.
Throughout the years since January 4, 2003, when Jeff died, there have been occasions, though exceedingly rare, when he (I presume) did “move stuff around” here, on planet earth. Or at least I couldn’t come up with any other explanation, though I tried.
Okay, as I said, only on rare occasions. But interestingly enough, within the past three months there have been two times when I lost stuff — first my car key fob, and then just two weeks ago, my dog Shadow’s collar. On both occasions, after searching high and low, over and over again, for the lost object (both of which I use to get around: driving the car, and walking the dog) for a total of two weeks each time, and then gave up, ordered another fob ($400, yikes!) and bought another collar ($10) — to replace the way-too-big collar I had used instead which I had to continuously watch lest it fall off while I was pulling him across a busy street . . .
Yesterday, the two weeks up, and the day after Pluto turned, I went to Petco to buy the new collar.
Okay. Just as the process, and the timing, of losing and not finding the two objects was similar, so too was what happened on the very day I replaced each of them nearly identical.
On the day when I finally drove home with the new key fob (having had the car towed to the Toyota place), and opened the front porch door, my eye went immediately to a basket where the old fob (now defunct) happened to be sitting. WHAT? I SEARCHED THAT BASKET MANY TIMES.
Then yesterday, when I finally walked Shadow home with his new collar, and opened the porch door, my eye went immediately to the back of a nearby chair on which the old dog collar was draped. WHAT? I WOULD HAVE SEEN THE COLLAR IF IT WAS THERE.
Of course, with both cases, I wondered if one of my housemates had lost either one, and/or if they could help me find it. Neither had either lost or found the needed item.
I found that out just now, when I asked the second housemate (I had already asked the first) if he had found the collar and draped it over that chair. “What? NO.” When I told him that I must have a visitor from another dimension fucking with me, he looked first stunned, and then, instantly, skeptical. I saw him wondering: “Hmmm, maybe she really is crazy.”
So there you go. There’s magic in the air, no matter how weird and awful things seem. Count on it. Count on dimensions larger than the one where we move objects around. There are invisible souls in service to whole occupying these dimensions, and it appears that I keep on needing to be reminded. Thank you, Jeff.
