My hotel room was filled with dead people. They crowded my space hoping to relay their message to an audience I had yet to face, merely two hours from this moment. I dimmed the lights. Sitting in lotus position and downloaded.
So much at once…confusing. Please, one at a time!
Front and center was a young man. I heard the name Marty…or something like it. And the question lingered whether it was a suicide or homicide, which is enough to identify a family member. He’s the clearest. And this is why I sense him the first.
Then a stout woman steps onto the scene. Her energy presence is big. She shows me a plane colliding into the world trade center. No doubt, 9-11. I have the impression she wasn’t on the scene. Enough info to get me started.
Next.
A little girl crawls up near me to show a news clipping, her family’s desperate attempt to find her. I take mental note that the feeling seems fatal and a mother who has yet to hear her calling.
My eyes open to discover I have enough time to make it back to my presentation. I feel a bit edgy, despite meditating. You would think after sharing time with a bunch of dead people that would put me over the top…but in an odd way, it is normal for me...
All I could think about was how I slipped up best-selling author, Marianne Williamson’s intro in front of 100’s of people just hours earlier. It wasn’t a silly, little mistake. It was one of those lifetime, grandioso faux pas….especially when you speak to Marianne herself to confirm the accurate information and then still say the wrong radio call numbers for her weekly show on the Oprah and friends network!
Uggghhhh….okay, can’t dwell on it….let go….
When I arrived on the scene, all kinds of life forms were filling in. Families held together in packs’. Dearly departed walked alongside their loved ones as if they occupied space on earth.
On the right side stood a receiving line for Marianne Williamson’s autograph. I paced while helpers prepped my stage speakers, backdrop and seats. It didn’t help that one of the event promoters stomped in before I was prepared to speak reprimanding me for distributing flyers on chairs. Really earth shattering stuff when I have to talk to families who lost someone important, ya know….I rolled my eyes, but eventually blessed him ….a week later!
More importantly, my helpers and I are having trouble keeping my backdrop projected on the stage screen. Typical stuff when the energy is amped up. The black and white angel portrait is titled ‘Savior.’ She is a glorious looking angel running down a corridor that looked to be in a hurry to answer someone’s plea for help. My presentation is titled, ‘Send me an angel...please!’
Help!
The crowd’s mood appeared wary. It was nearly time for dinner. And many needed an energy boost, as did I. So I recommended a love tap, hug, from a neighbor sitting near by. It worked as usual. Smiles prevailed thru the fog.
It felt different as I looked out on my crowd…maybe, more maternal, as this was my first talk after becoming a mommy. I empathized with my audience more deeply. Feeling the need from both sides to connect. Yet, I promised the promoter a workshop, style format prior to the reading segment. We wrapped the first hour and go into meditation without a break, because my crowd insists they can ‘hold it,’ per say, for another hour.
“There is a young man here named Marty – I think, or something like that. He says there is question whether his passing was associated with a homicide versus suicide.”
Two hands shot up on my right. These ladies confirmed their cousin’s presence. I go to them.
“Suicide.” They looked disappointed. I don’t know if it was in him so much or the fact that they had finally learned his fate. “ ‘Unintentionally,’ he says. His lifestyle dictated his demise.”
The women, now looked like girls to me, in their innocence, nodded their heads. I concluded that an angel appeared above saying that one of them will teach. It was in her best interest. She made it known that she had been questioning that career for her future.
“Precisely why the angel appeared, my dear.”
It wasn’t long before the older woman tapped my shoulder on the left. Left… always identifying one as a mother to me. I see the plane collide into the tower again.
“A motherly presence here shows me the aftermath of 9-11 significant to her crossing.”
A hand pops up from the center of my crowd. Yet, two women stand. Her daughters confirmed she passed on 9-11 yet, not in the city during the event. Acknowledging what she had told me in my room earlier.
She was a woman who had to make a grand departure so no one would forget it; 9-11 was the perfect exist strategy. Like most mothers, she reminded one of her girls to take the blood pressure medicine as she neglected caring for her well being. She gave me an incredible sensation of love through my heart as I stood before them. I felt the need to embrace them. And did. Something she left without doing.
The little girl appeared to my left side holding the clipping up for me not to forget.
Being pulled again to the left. I turned towards that side of my audience. Steps away from where I’m with the two sisters, I describe a small girl that shows me a news clip that her family placed as a desperate plea to find her. A woman, shyly, raised her hand from the back of the left side of the room. Noticeably shaken, she turned her back towards the audience. I walk around her to meet her eye-to- eye.
Soft spoken, she said, “She was the daughter of a distant relative.”
“Mother, right?”
“Yes.”
“Murdered. And her daughter can’t get through, her grief is too deep….” I paused, “She pleads you tell her mother that she is okay.”
“I haven’t seen her in years,” she said.
“Spirit moves in mysterious ways…this child will guide you.” I added, “there is an angel near you sporting a tool belt with paint brushes. You have these things?”
“Yes,” she smirked. “I thought to pick it up, but neglecting it.’
“Ah, yes….all too familiar…trust, you are being guided by the light.”
We continue for a short while longer before time was up. So many people left empty handed. Their desire to make a connection was written all over their faces. I felt like I’ve let them down. And I’m sure I have. Yet, before leaving them, I remind them that I’m not their direct link to source. All they need do is open their heart and place the call. And it is answered.
Copyright © 2007 Laura Lee • www.MessagesOfLove.com
Sunday, January 20, 2008
And it is answered
My hotel room was filled with dead people. They crowded my space hoping to relay their message to an audience I had yet to face, merely two hours from this moment. I dimmed the lights. Sitting in lotus position and downloaded.
So much at once…confusing. Please, one at a time!
Front and center was a young man. I heard the name Marty…or something like it. And the question lingered whether it was a suicide or homicide, which is enough to identify a family member. He’s the clearest. And this is why I sense him the first.
Then a stout woman steps onto the scene. Her energy presence is big. She shows me a plane colliding into the world trade center. No doubt, 9-11. I have the impression she wasn’t on the scene. Enough info to get me started.
Next.
A little girl crawls up near me to show a news clipping, her family’s desperate attempt to find her. I take mental note that the feeling seems fatal and a mother who has yet to hear her calling.
My eyes open to discover I have enough time to make it back to my presentation. I feel a bit edgy, despite meditating. You would think after sharing time with a bunch of dead people that would put me over the top…but in an odd way, it is normal for me...
All I could think about was how I slipped up best-selling author, Marianne Williamson’s intro in front of 100’s of people just hours earlier. It wasn’t a silly, little mistake. It was one of those lifetime, grandioso faux pas….especially when you speak to Marianne herself to confirm the accurate information and then still say the wrong radio call numbers for her weekly show on the Oprah and friends network!
Uggghhhh….okay, can’t dwell on it….let go….
When I arrived on the scene, all kinds of life forms were filling in. Families held together in packs’. Dearly departed walked alongside their loved ones as if they occupied space on earth.
On the right side stood a receiving line for Marianne Williamson’s autograph. I paced while helpers prepped my stage speakers, backdrop and seats. It didn’t help that one of the event promoters stomped in before I was prepared to speak reprimanding me for distributing flyers on chairs. Really earth shattering stuff when I have to talk to families who lost someone important, ya know….I rolled my eyes, but eventually blessed him ….a week later!
More importantly, my helpers and I are having trouble keeping my backdrop projected on the stage screen. Typical stuff when the energy is amped up. The black and white angel portrait is titled ‘Savior.’ She is a glorious looking angel running down a corridor that looked to be in a hurry to answer someone’s plea for help. My presentation is titled, ‘Send me an angel...please!’
Help!
The crowd’s mood appeared wary. It was nearly time for dinner. And many needed an energy boost, as did I. So I recommended a love tap, hug, from a neighbor sitting near by. It worked as usual. Smiles prevailed thru the fog.
It felt different as I looked out on my crowd…maybe, more maternal, as this was my first talk after becoming a mommy. I empathized with my audience more deeply. Feeling the need from both sides to connect. Yet, I promised the promoter a workshop, style format prior to the reading segment. We wrapped the first hour and go into meditation without a break, because my crowd insists they can ‘hold it,’ per say, for another hour.
“There is a young man here named Marty – I think, or something like that. He says there is question whether his passing was associated with a homicide versus suicide.”
Two hands shot up on my right. These ladies confirmed their cousin’s presence. I go to them.
“Suicide.” They looked disappointed. I don’t know if it was in him so much or the fact that they had finally learned his fate. “ ‘Unintentionally,’ he says. His lifestyle dictated his demise.”
The women, now looked like girls to me, in their innocence, nodded their heads. I concluded that an angel appeared above saying that one of them will teach. It was in her best interest. She made it known that she had been questioning that career for her future.
“Precisely why the angel appeared, my dear.”
It wasn’t long before the older woman tapped my shoulder on the left. Left… always identifying one as a mother to me. I see the plane collide into the tower again.
“A motherly presence here shows me the aftermath of 9-11 significant to her crossing.”
A hand pops up from the center of my crowd. Yet, two women stand. Her daughters confirmed she passed on 9-11 yet, not in the city during the event. Acknowledging what she had told me in my room earlier.
She was a woman who had to make a grand departure so no one would forget it; 9-11 was the perfect exist strategy. Like most mothers, she reminded one of her girls to take the blood pressure medicine as she neglected caring for her well being. She gave me an incredible sensation of love through my heart as I stood before them. I felt the need to embrace them. And did. Something she left without doing.
The little girl appeared to my left side holding the clipping up for me not to forget.
Being pulled again to the left. I turned towards that side of my audience. Steps away from where I’m with the two sisters, I describe a small girl that shows me a news clip that her family placed as a desperate plea to find her. A woman, shyly, raised her hand from the back of the left side of the room. Noticeably shaken, she turned her back towards the audience. I walk around her to meet her eye-to- eye.
Soft spoken, she said, “She was the daughter of a distant relative.”
“Mother, right?”
“Yes.”
“Murdered. And her daughter can’t get through, her grief is too deep….” I paused, “She pleads you tell her mother that she is okay.”
“I haven’t seen her in years,” she said.
“Spirit moves in mysterious ways…this child will guide you.” I added, “there is an angel near you sporting a tool belt with paint brushes. You have these things?”
“Yes,” she smirked. “I thought to pick it up, but neglecting it.’
“Ah, yes….all too familiar…trust, you are being guided by the light.”
We continue for a short while longer before time was up. So many people left empty handed. Their desire to make a connection was written all over their faces. I felt like I’ve let them down. And I’m sure I have. Yet, before leaving them, I remind them that I’m not their direct link to source. All they need do is open their heart and place the call. And it is answered.
Copyright © 2007 Laura Lee • www.MessagesOfLove.com
So much at once…confusing. Please, one at a time!
Front and center was a young man. I heard the name Marty…or something like it. And the question lingered whether it was a suicide or homicide, which is enough to identify a family member. He’s the clearest. And this is why I sense him the first.
Then a stout woman steps onto the scene. Her energy presence is big. She shows me a plane colliding into the world trade center. No doubt, 9-11. I have the impression she wasn’t on the scene. Enough info to get me started.
Next.
A little girl crawls up near me to show a news clipping, her family’s desperate attempt to find her. I take mental note that the feeling seems fatal and a mother who has yet to hear her calling.
My eyes open to discover I have enough time to make it back to my presentation. I feel a bit edgy, despite meditating. You would think after sharing time with a bunch of dead people that would put me over the top…but in an odd way, it is normal for me...
All I could think about was how I slipped up best-selling author, Marianne Williamson’s intro in front of 100’s of people just hours earlier. It wasn’t a silly, little mistake. It was one of those lifetime, grandioso faux pas….especially when you speak to Marianne herself to confirm the accurate information and then still say the wrong radio call numbers for her weekly show on the Oprah and friends network!
Uggghhhh….okay, can’t dwell on it….let go….
When I arrived on the scene, all kinds of life forms were filling in. Families held together in packs’. Dearly departed walked alongside their loved ones as if they occupied space on earth.
On the right side stood a receiving line for Marianne Williamson’s autograph. I paced while helpers prepped my stage speakers, backdrop and seats. It didn’t help that one of the event promoters stomped in before I was prepared to speak reprimanding me for distributing flyers on chairs. Really earth shattering stuff when I have to talk to families who lost someone important, ya know….I rolled my eyes, but eventually blessed him ….a week later!
More importantly, my helpers and I are having trouble keeping my backdrop projected on the stage screen. Typical stuff when the energy is amped up. The black and white angel portrait is titled ‘Savior.’ She is a glorious looking angel running down a corridor that looked to be in a hurry to answer someone’s plea for help. My presentation is titled, ‘Send me an angel...please!’
Help!
The crowd’s mood appeared wary. It was nearly time for dinner. And many needed an energy boost, as did I. So I recommended a love tap, hug, from a neighbor sitting near by. It worked as usual. Smiles prevailed thru the fog.
It felt different as I looked out on my crowd…maybe, more maternal, as this was my first talk after becoming a mommy. I empathized with my audience more deeply. Feeling the need from both sides to connect. Yet, I promised the promoter a workshop, style format prior to the reading segment. We wrapped the first hour and go into meditation without a break, because my crowd insists they can ‘hold it,’ per say, for another hour.
“There is a young man here named Marty – I think, or something like that. He says there is question whether his passing was associated with a homicide versus suicide.”
Two hands shot up on my right. These ladies confirmed their cousin’s presence. I go to them.
“Suicide.” They looked disappointed. I don’t know if it was in him so much or the fact that they had finally learned his fate. “ ‘Unintentionally,’ he says. His lifestyle dictated his demise.”
The women, now looked like girls to me, in their innocence, nodded their heads. I concluded that an angel appeared above saying that one of them will teach. It was in her best interest. She made it known that she had been questioning that career for her future.
“Precisely why the angel appeared, my dear.”
It wasn’t long before the older woman tapped my shoulder on the left. Left… always identifying one as a mother to me. I see the plane collide into the tower again.
“A motherly presence here shows me the aftermath of 9-11 significant to her crossing.”
A hand pops up from the center of my crowd. Yet, two women stand. Her daughters confirmed she passed on 9-11 yet, not in the city during the event. Acknowledging what she had told me in my room earlier.
She was a woman who had to make a grand departure so no one would forget it; 9-11 was the perfect exist strategy. Like most mothers, she reminded one of her girls to take the blood pressure medicine as she neglected caring for her well being. She gave me an incredible sensation of love through my heart as I stood before them. I felt the need to embrace them. And did. Something she left without doing.
The little girl appeared to my left side holding the clipping up for me not to forget.
Being pulled again to the left. I turned towards that side of my audience. Steps away from where I’m with the two sisters, I describe a small girl that shows me a news clip that her family placed as a desperate plea to find her. A woman, shyly, raised her hand from the back of the left side of the room. Noticeably shaken, she turned her back towards the audience. I walk around her to meet her eye-to- eye.
Soft spoken, she said, “She was the daughter of a distant relative.”
“Mother, right?”
“Yes.”
“Murdered. And her daughter can’t get through, her grief is too deep….” I paused, “She pleads you tell her mother that she is okay.”
“I haven’t seen her in years,” she said.
“Spirit moves in mysterious ways…this child will guide you.” I added, “there is an angel near you sporting a tool belt with paint brushes. You have these things?”
“Yes,” she smirked. “I thought to pick it up, but neglecting it.’
“Ah, yes….all too familiar…trust, you are being guided by the light.”
We continue for a short while longer before time was up. So many people left empty handed. Their desire to make a connection was written all over their faces. I felt like I’ve let them down. And I’m sure I have. Yet, before leaving them, I remind them that I’m not their direct link to source. All they need do is open their heart and place the call. And it is answered.
Copyright © 2007 Laura Lee • www.MessagesOfLove.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
