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I am honored to be a featured guest on the What Matters Most TV Show. See it on my media page or on YouTube.

All three Episodes of the feature, Touched By Angels, of the What Matters Most Show have been released.  Please enjoy this coversation with myself, Candy Danzis, and Pat Caffrey and the Council of Light as we share Angelic Wisdom with our audience and with host Eric Anzalone. This show was filmed 9 months prior to Candy's passing on to join the Angelic Realm full-time. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to build a friendship with Candy and her husband, Brian. I am grateful to this show which allows me to relive that day and to again witness the Brilliance that Candy brought through.
The Producers of this show are dedicated to spotlighting Lightbearers so that many can witness some of the infinite good available in the world. Thank you to everyone who participated in this wonderful event-- audience members, production team (including producers Maria Plass and Vann Weller), Candy and Pat, and hosts Glenda Smith and Hannalore Godwin of Circle of Miracles. It was a kick to be interviewed by Eric Anzalone of the pop group, The Village People. He is a hoot! To learn more about Experience Nirvana click here. 

 

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Friday
Jan092015

Why I Continue to Strive to #FINDHARISIMRAN

Photo courtesy of www.findharisimran.com. Used with Permission. And Love.

On Monday, I attended, via Livestream, the funeral of a beautiful young man- one whom I'd never met in person- named Hari Simran Singh Khalsa. That day was preceded by a week that began with desperate searching. Hari Simran, an American Sikh, Social Activist, Environmentalist, Yoga Teacher and so much more, had taken the morning of December 30 off from attending the SpiritVoyage Sat Nam Fest retreat in Mexico. The mountains were calling him, and he was off to commune with nature. Two days later, I saw a Facebook post by a mutual friend of ours; it was titled, "#FINDHARISIMRAN." I saw the image of a joyous face bathed in Rays of Light, pointing between the mountain peaks. It was a selfie he'd taken with a message to his wife, "I'm looking down on you." As my eyes fell upon his image, I felt my heart open in a huge burst. I don't know whether it was the joyous look on his face or if I felt his beautiful energy, but I felt myself expand into a great wave of Love. And then I read my friend's post, stating that his last text indicated he'd lost his way and would be late; "save me some lunch if you can." Hours went by; calls went unanswered, and concern had crept in. I saw the post two days after Hari Simran had ceased all communication. I stopped what I was doing and joined in prayer with the growing worldwide community of friends and family, and friends and family of friends and family, and friends and family of those friends and family...

Around the world, people rallied their support through prayer, sacred chanting (a form of prayer), financial contributions (rescue operations costing tens of thousands of dollars) and spreading the word. While I sat at home, praying in NJ, friends, family, and complete strangers gathered in Mexico to join in the search and rescue efforts. Many of us called the US Embasy in Mexico asking for help with the rescue efforts (despite laws requiring that a person be missing 72 hours-- 3 DAYS!!!-- before any government intervention occur). An organization dedicated to finding peaceful applications for devices designed for war sent camera drones through the steep, rocky mountains in search of Hari Simran. On the third day of searching, retreaters were joined by 150 Mexican police officers with 40 search and rescue dogs. Helicopters flew overhead. Hundreds of people searched; thousands more held them all in prayer. One man, one young wife, one pair of parents, one BeLoved Community, were held and wrapped in Love and prayer by one worlwide human family. And on the fourth day, the body of Hari Simran Singh Khalsa was found. He appeared to have struck his head on rocks while trying to descend a steep slope. It is believed that his passing was instataneous.

As I prayed for Hari Simran's safe return home, he had already safely returned HOME. Perhaps the tremendous Love I felt when I saw his photo was the Love that I was receiving from him. I know one thing with absolute certainty: That Hari Simran's Soul called him home. I firmly believe that any situation that is wrapped in so much purity of heart and prayerful devotion can have nothing but the perfect outcome. He was BeLoved by his community, a community of people dedicated to a peaceful, prayerful, Love-Based way of life. These people, and through them a worldwide community, were praying ceaselessly for him. I, like everyone else in this Worldwide Web of Love, desperately wanted the answer to our prayers to be the one with the Storybook Ending. But in prayer, there is also surrender. There is, even when reluctantly given, a trusting and knowing that the Divine, and the Divine expressed as each individuated Soul, is bringing forth the highest good, the highest purpose, of that Soul. In Hari Simran's case, that highest good seemed to be for his Soul to return home.

And his community, rather than feeling betrayed by God or cheated by death, saw the Miracles in his passing and claimed them as the gifts in their time of sorrow, and as the meaning behind the loss of life with Hari Simran as they'd known it. They celebrated the Miracle of the world coming together over their BeLoved Brother, Son, Husband. They celebrated that thousands of people like me who had never met him in person felt his Love and responded with more Love. At his funeral, his sweet, brave, beautiful wife remarked upon how much Good it seemed that her husband still had left to do in this world. But then, she pointed out, that as much good as he himself would have done, how much even more good would now occur in the world, as people inspired by Hari Simran would take up his mantle and do good acts in his name, through his inspiration. I think of it as the Hari Simran Effect.

During the funeral, many beautiful stories were shared about this really remarkable man-- a young man who demontrated time and again that he was very aware of the Old Soul of his Being. And one speaker, Krishna Kaur, recounted something that Hari Simran's mother had shared with her earlier that day. It was that #findharisimran, the Hashtag Heard Round the World, was the perfect expression of her son's purpose. You see, she explained, Hari means God. And Simran means the flow of Joy and Peace in meditation. So #findharisimran is a Loving reminder to find God in our own inner flow of Joy and Peace in meditation. What a beautiful message, gift, and legacy from this Beautiful Old Soul to those who feel the quickening of Love when our awareness bumps up against him, who will do our best to #FIndHariSimran, and who will use this gift to guide us in our own quests to ignite Love amongst our brothers and sisters the world over.

I have been practicing meditation in one way or another since I was nine years old. Through it I've discovered a pathway to anchor my awareness in the Love of the Divine. And there have been times, exquisite, expansive moments, in which I feel that I #FindHariSimran. And yet I know that the Love of God is ever-expansive, as is my ability to allow myself to perceive this Love. I continue to strive to #FindHariSimran because the opportunity to feel the Love of the Divine, to Find God Within, is constant, and that Love is ever-increasing in depth and beauty. This is a lifelong quest, and I'm grateful to have discovered the Love of Hari Simran Singh Khalsa as a Guide upon this Incredible Journey. To Hari Simran; his wife Ad Purkh Kaur Khalsa; his parents Guru Soorya Kaur and Sat Jugat Singh; his friend Krishna Kaur; our mutual friends Ramdesh Kaur and Harnam Singh, and this entire BeLoved Community, I give my thanks, and my promise, to keep his Flame bright in my heart, that I may Light the world more brightly because of him. I Lovingly invite you to consider doing the same. Sat Nam.

To learn more about Hari Simran Singh Khalsa, visit www.findharisimran.com

 

Thursday
Sep042014

The Big 5-0

Well, I did it. I turned 50.

For most of my life, it seemed to me that 50 was a mile-mark into old age. This must be some collective consciousness thing I picked up because, just as my father was shocked to experience thirty years before I did, I received my official invitation to join the AARP that morning! At least I remembered Dad's shocker and was prepared! But I'm happy to report that today, the second day of my second half-century, I feel like the same kid I was two days ago. I celebrate the Love that surrounds me and life is sweet. I wish I could boast of my athletic accomplishments but quite frankly I had nothing to boast of at thirty, or twenty, or even ten, either. Numbers must be old news for me because I do find that I'm not as good at math as I once was; I think it's lack of practice and so I consider that a good thing~ a sign that I've let go of something once drilled into me that no longer serves me. So here I sit, happy and immersed in Love, and wondering what my next adventure will be.

An awareness that came to me at thirty, and again at forty, returned once more today. I'm still me. Life is the same~ changing every day but there is no drastic jump into seniority at 50, despite the AARP's indication otherwise. At each of these milemarks, I realized that I have the most important things in life~ those that matter the most to me. Life has been a series of cycles, each one with its inherent joys and sorrows, and it is indeed rich. I have realized some dreams, released others, and gone some routes that have supplanted and surpassed the ones I'd previously dreamed of. I put in years of prep work to create a career in academia, having studies with the superstars in my field who also became more family than faculty, only to leave that career in its infancy when I listened to my heart imploring me to stay home with my children. In that role I've had days of great Joy, days of great tedium, days of celebration and days of frustrating clashing of wills. Today I celebrate the magnificent humans that these three incredible Beings have become. Maybe they'd be the same had I made a different choice, but I know that I wouldn't. I'm grateful for that incredibly fleeting time together, and for the husband who supported my decision and Loved me regardless of what his preference might have been.

Over the years I've witnessed Loved Ones suffering through extended illnesses, felt helpless to fix them, and learned many a lesson via journeys through the Valleys of Darkness. I've received the phone calls that left me with life one way in one moment, and a new way in the next. I've explored my Faith and kept what felt true to me and finally given myself permission to release the rest. I've found that any time that I turn to God, in pleading, desperate petition, in affirmative declaration, in awestruck adoration, and even in venting fury and frustration, I am heard, Loved, and answered with Love. 

Overall, the painting that emerges is perfect~ an impressionistic canvas dabbled with all of the colors of life. Looking up close, the brustrokes of Joy and sorrow, laughter and heartache, loneliness and belonging can all be seen. But standing back to behold the Whole, a beautiful blend emerges. This Journey, in its Wholeness, is one of Joy and Blessings, Beauty and Sunshine. As I gaze into its welcoming colors, I feel saturated in Love and I AM Grateful. So deeply grateful. If there is anything that I can do to continue to enhance this scene as the years ahead unfold, it is to keep blending in the colors of Love. From this my riches, my Joyful Journey, springs. Thank you to each one of you who contributes your own beautiful brushstrokes to the canvas of my life. May you realize the richness of your own Creations. May you feel the Blessings of your Incredible Journeys. May you continue to add and to see the strokes of Love that comprise your experience upon this Earth. And when you step back and behold the Wholeness of the Portrait that is your life, may you be awestruck by the beauty that you have created. Namaste. 

With Much Love,

Mary

Wednesday
Jun042014

A Hello From Heaven

 

The world doesn't need to shake to recognize that one is getting a Hello from Heaven. This past weekend I got a great pat of encouragement from my father-in-law, Bud, that's had me smiling ever since.

Truthfully, when the weekend began a part of me couldn't wait for it to be over. That's because I am just a page or two away from completing the first draft of my long-awaited book, Heaven on the Line. When I began the proposal writing process two years ago, I knew I had a few additional chapters to weave in; that's what happens when life continues and a book sits dormant. New content appears. But I saved for last the easiest chapter of all, the one that I'm most comfortable speaking about~ jotting out this chapter would be a breeze, a great way to bring quick and gratifying closure to a decade-long project. The topic? Angels and Archangels-- whom to call upon under what circumstances. A Divine Rolodex. In fact, in my mind the chapter's name is The Divine Rolodex, but when the typing began I realized that younger generations might not realize what a Rolodex is. So I renamed the chapter, A Heavenly Contact List. Far more current. But in my mind's eye, when I see this chapter, I see my father-in-law's precious Rolodex. In it is stored the name, address, and phone number of every person, organization, and service provider the world has ever seen. Well, at least my world. I cannot tell you how many times I've called my in-laws to ask for a number or address. My husband has 19 first cousins and they are all in there. Bud has gone Home to Heaven, but Ritie, my wonderful mother-in-law, keeps the Rolodex on the desk and I often peek in at it for a number or address when I am visiting. This is what I want to provide my readers when they are wondering about the Heavenly Realm; what better image than Bud's Rolodex. I was surprised, however, when the chapter became a struggle. It was cumbersome to write about every Angel and Archangel that I was familiar with. It could be a book unto itself. And there are already good books, entire books, written on this topic. Each day I paced about, stalling from writing, until finally, on Friday, I followed my own advise and asked about it in meditation. I was shown a streamlined list, an introduction, which the reader could pursue further if interested. Whew! I was back on track and ready to write. I just had to get through the weekend; Monday the house would grow quiet and I would be free to create a smaller, more concise Rolodex.

On Saturday, my husband got a text from our neighbor, Matt. We live on the same side of the same street as Matt and his family, have the same style and color house, and both live on a corner. Friends have often confused our homes, knocking on Matt's door or dropping things off for us at their home. So we weren't surprised when he texted to say that someone dropped off a Rolodex and a picture. Were they ours? "I don't think so," Jim texted back. "Well," replied Matt, "It's a picture of your father." Intruiged, we strolled down to see Matt and Eileen, who were sitting on their front step with a portrait of Bud, and his Rolodex! I knew the portrait well; a friend had rendered it in charcoal a few years ago. The Rolodex? The Rolodex!!! Amazing! How did they come to us? Who dropped them at Matt and Eileen's house? The portrait had hung in Bud and Rita's home, but I dont remember seeing it in their apartment once they moved to assisted living a few years back. 

When we got home, I looked through the Rolodex. No cousins, but tons of political names and service providers. This was Bud's work rolodex. Someone from his office must have dropped them off; the portrait must have been brought to his work for a memorial service, or hung in his office toward the end. 

Who had Bud inspired to deliver the Rolodex? I'm not sure but he had many friends who knew Jim and would likely take the trouble to drop these treasures off for us. But I am inspired by the timing, as I pace my house promising myself that this week I will finish The Divine Rolodex, that Bud's Rolodex should be hand delivered to me. What a blessing. What a validation from Dad. What a pat of encouragement! I am grateful.

And I am reminded that many of our Hellos from Heaven come through simple everyday events. Regular meditation, intention setting, and energetic preparation are extraordinary for helping us to reach out and make a connection. But we can also be open to the many ways in which our Loved Ones reach out to us, so that we can bask in their Love, in their hellos, in their pats on the back. May you feel the Love that is always with you, and find the little messages that are sprinkled throughout your own experiences. OK, folks, I'm off to write! Aloha!

Friday
Feb142014

Healing Valentine's Day

It's Valentine's Day; do you feel the Love? Today is a day for experiencing...
Pain? Resentment? Unworthiness?

Wow~ I saw some painful posts on Facebook yesterday as folks were snowed in and had time to ruminate on this holiday of Love.  

I get it. I used to dread this holiday. It began in my childhood, when classroom Valentine's parties served as annual popularity polls. I have been trying to remember whether one teacher truly did teach us a lesson on averages by asking each child to report how many Valentines he or she received, or if it simply felt so publicly humiliating that my memory has embellished itself. Unlike today's classrooms where kids are asked to bring Valentines for each classmate, in my day we were free to choose those peers to whom we would bestow our heart-shaped blessings, and, by default, those whom we would reject. I was shy, pigeon toed, and far from poised. I used to pull down the class average, squirming in shame at my small stack as the kids on either side of me counted out their validations, "Valentine, I'm stuck on you!" "Friends Forever," and the quintissential David Cassidy saying, "I think I Love you, Valentine!" 

In high school, I had yet to hit my stride and exude a molecule of self-confidence. Each year some group would hold a fund-raiser in which students bought roses to send to classmates-- close friends, boyfriends, or girlfriends. I used to cringe walking through those corridors sans roses, while other girls had overflowing bouquets in their arms. Through those teen, and later young adult years, I rarely had a boyfriend on Valentine's Day. I felt slapped by the expectation to be coupled up by this annual occasion, and through each one that I faced solo I was keenly aware that I had "no one to Love." Even when I was dating, the childhood scars raced to the surface, and I refused to buy into the cultural hype of this "holiday." It wasn't a holiday to me; I was angry with this day, the one that had caused me so much suffering.

And then along came Jim Law. He was a sweet boyfriend, and wanted to celebrate Valentine's Day with me. Another girl might have appreciated that, but I had my armor on and sneered at the offensiveness of this "artificial holiday." It's funny; yesterday on Facebook I read statements that echoed statements I've made in those days, such as, "It's an artificial holiday created by a card company to make money," and "it's just an excuse to charge triple the price of roses-- don't get me roses on Valentine's Day!" I hurled these arguments at Jim, along with venting about the childhood popularity contests, the ones I had always lost. 

I can remember Jim's sparkling smile as he held my hand and crooned, "Valentine's Day is supposed to be Happyyyyyyyyyy! It's about saying I Love you!"

Jim had grown up in a family that embraced Valentine's Day. Every February 14, from birth until our first married Valentine's Day, he would wake in the morning to read a new Lovepoem that his mother had written just for him. So, by the way, would his six sisters and brothers. Each of those kids headed off to school buoyed on a puffy little heart of Love. No wonder he Loved the day.

Once we were married, Jim fully expected that he would awaken on Valentine's Day morning greeted by a poem written by yours truly. His expectation did not diminish when I explained that I am not his mother; in fact, he stated that he certainly hoped I would continue this tradition not only for himself, but for all of our future children as well! So, after I disappointed him that first February 14 of our married life, I resentfully sat down write him a poem. Once I got into the spirit of the task, I rather enjoyed myself! I penned a happy little verse and transferred it to a heart-shaped slip of paper. For some reason, he never asked me for another. Here is that poem:

Oh there's a boy named Jim
He makes my blood cells swim!

If you'd see him on the street
You'd say, "Gosh! That Jimbo's really neat!"

All the girls would Love him
If they only only could,

Cause Jim's the sort that's coveted
By the likes of Hollywood!

But Jimbo's mine and mine alone
So keep your hands off, girly girls.

If I ever catch you in my home,
I'll shoot you in your dirty rears!

You may detect by the somewhat caustic quality of this verse that I had yet to heal from my childhood scars! But Jim did slowly turn me around. Every year, he shopped for special gifts to give not only to me, but to each of our kids on Valentine's morning. If their mother would not rise to the poetry occasion, he was going to make sure that someone was making them feel Loved! As I've softened to this practice over the years, I've come to deLight in sharing in the hunt with him for something small but special for each child. My kids look forward to hopping out of bed on Valentine's morning to see what their parents have done to greet them with an extra dollop of Love. Sometimes I have even stayed up late the night before, crafting something special for each one.

Seeing Valentine's Day as a day to joyfully express to those I Love that I truly Love them, that I am grateful for them in my life, has changed everything that I feel on this beautiful, celebratory day. Where I once took the day as an annual demonstration of my failure to acquire Love, I now see that it is an annual opportunity to put a happy exclamation point on my expressions of Love. Instead of longing for validation from others around me, I have shifted my focus to celebrate the Love that is in my life, and to share my Love with those dearest to me. Doing so is a gift that I give myself, my own little "I Love you." This shift has transformed a once painful day to one of great happiness. 

I have often heard the case against Valentine's Day, that we should express Love every day rather than reserve it for a single day each year. Absolutely! But how deLightful to have a day to pause, acknowledge Love, and celebrate it in our lives. I remember once reading a channeled message by Linda Dillon*, in which we are told that the Angels thrill on this day because it is the only one in our Calendars which is dedicated to Love. How wise our Angelic friends are. The gift of this day is invaluable. Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! May you bask in the blessings of all those you Love, and may you enjoy your myriad opportunities to express the Love that you feel for yourself, for others, and for all that you hold dear. 

*Linda Dillon: www.counciloflove.org

Friday
Jun142013

A Shift In Perspective

Oh, my youngest child is a squirmer! And I am a snuggler. And, more often than I care to admit, I am a sleepyhead. I had this Lovely practice that I enjoyed with my two older kids, which I assumed would be equally delicious with Baby #3. On days when I'm especially tired (usually because I've been up through the night with some Little Being who has had need of me for some reason) I will put on a movie, snuggle up with my Little One and a soft blanket, and instantly fall asleep. The warmth of little breath in my face, the sound of Disney music in my ear, and I am gone. My child is happy wrapped in my arms and rapt in a good movie.

My third child has had her share of nights in which I sacrificed my sleep for her comfort. But she follows up the next day with less than cozy cuddles. Rather than nestling in for a snug little block of stillness, she tosses and squirms, grabbing my sleeping head in her hands and turning it to ensure that I witness the unfolding scene. "Wake Up!" she demands, wanting my shared attention as the Dinosaur Train goes rolling into the Time Tunnel. Then she burrows her head deeply into my ribs, hiding from some new creature whom she has seen appear suddenly at this moment a hundrend times before. Rearranging my hair, shouting in my sleeping ear-- I've been battered, banged, and bellowed at time after sleepy time.

I had reached a point of frustration with this pattern. I was too tired to get up and play, too disrupted to feel any rest, when I had an epiphany: This Little One is a Power Snuggler! Her snuggles are active and fully engaged. They may not help me catch up on my rest, but how I appreciate her enthusiasm to bring me into her experience!

That epiphany changed my perspective; I knelt on the ground and shared it with her. "You are such a Power Snuggler, aren't you!" Delighted, she ran first from me and then straight at me, knocking me backward to the (thankfully carpeted) ground, burrowing her face into my neck and shouting out the muffled words, "POOOOOOOOOOOOOWERRRRRRR SNUGGLLLLLLLLLLLLLE!" In that moment, it all changed. My recognition of her gift freed her to express her joy more fully, and for me to receive it and to share my own with her. Now, we both enjoy our snuggles so much more. I've learned that our snuggle times are NOT opportunities for me to catch up on lost sleep. And I have learned that my precious little daughter has been blessing me with gifts far greater than sleep; I just had to shift my perspective to see them.