ORIGINAL BLISS

Letting Skeletons Out of the Closet

"The Lovers" Thoth Tarot

 

I have been an avid student and practitioner of the Tarot for over 20 years. Only my closest friends and family know this, just as they are the only ones who know of the years I have spent studying all things esoteric and doing clairvoyant readings.

I spend most of my life in a black and white world, (don't we all?), where we judge things only by what we see and what can be rationalized with our minds. It can be difficult to reveal intuitive insights, for fear of judgement and invalidation. Although mine have been known to "slip out" at inopportune times, it is something I have really tried to keep in the closet.

I don't read Tarot cards every day, or even every week for that matter. I use them as a tool. Some days, I can meditate and hear divine guidance as clearly as if God was whispering directly in my ear. And some days I need help. Contemplating a situation with Source and pulling cards, helps me see the energies around what is going on in my life.

It is so funny, and so "no duh", that I sat down this morning to do a reading about the choices I am making and something told me to check my growth journal. 

I have kept a chart tracking the growth cards for every year since the year I was born and journaling the events around those years in my life. I haven't looked at that chart in 5 years.

But I listened to the suggestion, pulled out that chart, realized that 2013 is a "6" year for me. It is a year where my birth date and month and year add up to the number 6. 6 also happens to be my soul and personality number...I was born a 6. 

Every 6 year has been a year when I have chosen to change the course of my life completely. They are huge transition and transformation years for me. 

The Lovers card is the 6th card of the Major Arcana. It is the card that reflects what this year is about for me. The Lovers is about synthesis. The union of the divine in us with the divine in the universe. It is about combining the elements of head AND heart, intellect AND feeling. It is about making choices between security and a risk of some kind...or between the old and the new. It is about the freedom from bondage. It is about integrating ALL of who we are and not holding anything back anymore.

I'm kind of disappointed that I only realized this today because helps me understand what I have been going through this year--what all the trials and tribulations have been leading up to. But if I knew all this was coming, I would have been petrified and would have resisted it more.

Knowing this now, I can embrace the choices and changes I am making.

It was meant to be all along.

Namaste,

Shannan

Chicken Soup for the Cynic's Soles

There is nothing like a walk in the rain; the hushed whisper of the showers through the leaves, the sweet taste of droplets on your tongue, having the sidewalks and the park all to yourself.

As I strolled the rolling walkways of my neighborhood park, I happened upon an old, oak tree. The recent storms had stripped it of most its leaves and the ground was littered with acorns.

Reminded of a story, I stopped to contemplate them.

I am sure it was Jack Canfield who first exposed me to the story, back when Chicken Soup for the Soul first came out. That was before there was a Chicken Soup for Teens, Chicken Soup for African Americans, Chicken Soup for the Canadian, Chicken Soup for the American Idol, Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover, Dog Lover, NASCAR Lover, Beach Lover, or Your Lover's Lover... (these exist)...

...way back before they started making Chicken Soup for the Soul Chicken Noodle Soup. (uh. yeah. no lie. PROOF HERE! )

Way, way back...before Chicken Soup made you puke.

He talked about how within every acorn lies the potential to be the fully realized oak tree. 

He was making a point, that within each of us there is the potential to realize our greatness, our best self.

Very inspiring stuff.

Until I looked down at them on the ground in various states of smushed and felt the hard slap of reality in my face.

Sure, within every acorn there lies the POTENTIAL... but not every acorn becomes a tree. Not very many even become a sprout. The chances of an acorn elevating itself out of smushed is less then 1 in 10,000. (gotta love Google.)

The only other opportunity for the acorn to become something of itself is by being picked up by some passing creature and eaten. That lucky acorn gets to become squirrel shit.

Jack Canfield did not convey all this in his story. Apparently, squirrel shit does not make good Chicken Soup.

It was fucking depressing looking down at the wet dirt at all that wasted potential. I couldn't help but identify with these pathetic useless seeds and worry that I, too, am wasting mine.

Then I realized...

I am not an acorn.

I am a human. And human potential is unlimited. The only thing that inhibits our potential is our inability to see and believe in the infinite possibilities within ourselves.

I decided that these acorns today were not destined to become squirrel shit and I picked them up off the ground, carried them home, placed them in a bowl on my mantel to remind me: 

 

neither am I.

Namaste,

Shannan

 

Photos taken on iTouch with Hipstamatic camera app

What Are We Really Made Of?

 

 

Now that the major thrust of the Dream Walker book launch is behind me, it is back to the writing desk. Since my goal is to have Time Walker completed in time for Christmas, I have to really buckle down and get to work.

Writing is a discipline—not a gift. Some writers may have a really amazing way with words, but they got it on paper because of dedication and stamina—true grit.

One of my favorite things about the writing process is researching the ideas behind what I am writing about. Since my characters have a knack for leaving the physical realm, I spend a lot of time exploring the esoteric, paranormal, mystical, and quantum. Trying to find what lies poutside the box, so I can pull it back into the box. Not so unlike my protagonist, Aislen Walker.

So now that I am taking on the marathon of novel writing, I will not be blogging as intensely. What I will do is share some of the ideas I find during my explorations. Like this lil' nugget from Brian Greene: String Theory in Under 2 Minutes.

Enjoy. Then think about it.

 

What is that vibrating little string? And what makes it vibrate? 

Shannan 

We live in the fiction.

Reposted from shannansinclair.com

An Apology to My Muse

No one likes to say "I'm sorry." But when we have wronged someone, turned our back on them, or invalidated them in some way, we owe them an apology. And I owe my muse an apology.

Yes, I have a muse. It is not uncommon amongst writers, musicians and artists. Homer and Virgil publicly invoked them in their respective epics, John Lennon let his ruin The Beatles, and The Bard dedicated 25 sonnets to his "dark lady." Muses have inspired everything from poetry and music to hairstyles (Google Astrid Kirchherr) and movies (Remember Xanadu?).

Well, I have a muse, too.

While muses are typically female, and in recent times, human...mine's a dude and supernatural.

I know. Weird. 

But those of you who know me from Original Bliss, know I'm a little odd - "kooky" has actually been the term used. But you also know I tell it like it is. So there you have it. I have a little spirit in the closet. Actually, I don't think he's little, he seems like he's quite tall. And he doesn't stick around in my closet or even my house. He mostly roams the Multiverse. If he has a name, I don't know it. It is probably unpronounceable to our Earthly tongue. So I just call him "Muse" when I feel him around or shout out "Muse!" when I need him. He isn't always prompt. Sometimes I have to wait for him. And though I'd like to think we are exclusive, I may not be his only client.

So here's how it happened.

Seven years ago, I had a dream~a whole series of them. And from them came the seed idea for Dream Walker. I guess you can say Dream Walker is based on a true story. Kooky. I warned you. Anyway, I was thus inspired. I plotted out my novel, developed characters and hammered out about 12,000 words. But inspiration faded and I set my book aside.

Three years ago, I pulled DW out again and tried to breathe some life into her. But I basically just smeared those first 12,000 words around in the word processor and called it editing. Dream Walker did not resuscitate.

Then, just over a year ago, my life fell apart. No, really...it completely fell apart. Everything I held dear, my marriage, my family, my home, my dreams for the future, collapsed into ruin. I became deeply depressed. I lived in my bathtub with a bottle of wine, hoping I would sink. 

One night, in the in-between of sleep and stupor, I heard his voice. Out loud. Yes. Crazy shit right there. But maybe you've heard an unseen voice at some time in your life. When you were driving and looked down at your iPhone and you heard "Look up!" just in time to see that traffic was coming to an abrupt stop. So you know what I mean.

He said, "It's time."

That all. And it was as clear as if he was standing right next to my bed. 

Normally I would have responded with, "Time for what?" Scratch that. Normally I would have responded by screaming some profanity because I heard someone who wasn't really there, then I would have asked, "Time for what?"

But I didn't ask. I already knew.

It was time for me to write my book. In an instant it all flashed into my mind. Only it wasn't the book I started writing 7 years ago. Names had changed. Ages were different. The time frame had shifted. It was my book, but new and fresh, and I got out of bed and started writing it.

Writing Dream Walker has been an intuitive process for me. Maybe it is that way for all writers. It only flows when I get my head out of the way. Rationale does not work...intellect fucks it up. Many times I thought I was going one direction only to be told by the character, that no, they weren't. The story was full of surprises--for me. There were times that my gut seized up with a knowing that everything was wrong with a chapter. I absolutely could not write another word. I would have to completely let that train of thought go so Muse would come and work his magic, lighting the synapses of my brain with epiphany.

Muse isn't just genius about storytelling either. He has also been very insistent about what I should do once the book was written, telling me over and over, "Self-publish." He's whispered marketing ideas and promotion suggestions to me in my sleep. He has pointed me toward workshops, websites and blogs specifically geared toward the independent author. Every time I move in that direction, synchronicities happen.

But my head got in the way.

Yes, I know now is an exciting time to be a writer. The opportunities and services supporting independent authors are abundant and incredible. But my head clings to the old ways. It tries to convince me that the traditional route is the only "legit" path.

Get an agent. Have them find the publisher. Self-publishing is only for people who can't make it any other way. I am a coward, afraid of the dreaded rejection slips! I have to earn my stripes by taking my licks! Amanda Hocking be damned!

Muse and I got in an argument. He left in a huff. Alright, I exaggerate. He just shrugged his shoulders and sulked off.. And I went about checking the boxes on my "traditional" route task list so I could start gathering some rejections slips for the scrapbook.

And my gut froze up. Inspiration and enthusiasm left me when muse did. My soul is not in it. 

I swallowed my pride and said, "Muse. If you can hear me across the dimensions, could you please come back? I think I am on the wrong path with this."

He was by my side right away. Even muses don't want to miss an opportunity to gloat and say, "I told you so." Again, he outlined the plan--the Independent, Self Publishing Plan of Action for Shannan Sinclair and Dream Walker. He knew I was still really apprehensive about committing to this plan, so he sent one of his helpers...an elf, a human elf.

This elf sent me an email last week. He has a friend who has the coveted Agent. And her agent scored her a publisher!!!! Her book is going to be published LEGITIMATELY!!!! His friend holds the Holy Grail of Writer's Success in her hands! Contracts have been signed. Her book will be available to the public! In January 2014.

Yes... you read that shit right. JANUARY 2014! TWO FREAKIN' YEARS AWAY!!!!!!!!!

WTF?

Muse was rolling on the floor laughing his ass off. "Told you so." He couldn't help one last dig.

That sealed the deal for me. Dream Walker is NOT going to be published in 2014. It is going to be published March 1, 2012 or very soon after. It will be available on Nook, Kindle, and Apple--electronically. And for those of you who haven't moved into the 21st century yet, I am figuring out how to kill a couple of trees just for you.

In the coming weeks, you'll be hearing more about Dream Walker's release and how you can help my book go viral! Maybe we can organize one of those Flash Mob things? Or maybe we can invade peoples dreams and seed the idea --"Buy Dream Walker today." That would be bad ass... creepy... but bad ass!

Until next time, remember...

We live in the fiction.

Shannan

Reposted from SHANNANSINCLAIR.COM

Lest I Forget

Namaste.....

Catch Your Wings

   

 

Wash Away - Mat Costa

 

Float down stream, rivers of dreams
Float down stream, catch your wings
Heavens high, so you fly
Catch your dreams in the sky

But the glaciers have frozen your feet
I can't wait for eternity
And so you watched me wash away
But maybe we'll catch up someday
Maybe we'll catch up someday

 

Sun it sinks out of view
Stars they shine changing hue

But bright lights have blinded your sights
They can't adjust when day turns to night
And so you watched me wash away
But maybe we'll catch up someday

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
But maybe we'll come back someday
Maybe we'll come back someday

Float down stream, rivers of dreams
Float down stream, catch your wings

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
Maybe we'll come back someday

The castles we built were so tall
They only left us further to fall
And still I see them far away
As I watch them wash away
Wash away...
Wash away...
Wash away...
Wash away...

 

Namaste,

C H E Z

Being in Amusement

Once upon a time... a long, long time ago...

there was a period in my life when I started having intense and frequent intuitive revelations and premonitions.

Our spiritual senses; clairvoyance, clairsentience, telepathy, etc... are natural gifts that we all have, but we forsake them and let them atrophy because we let our physical senses wear the pants during our living experience.

So although "psychic" phenomena wasn't really new to me, my abilities became so dominant in my life that it kind of scared me. I didn't have names for what was happening... I didn't have control. I couldn't turn it off or on. It would blindside me at inconvenient times.

Rather than seek out a psychiatrist ~ who would have medicated me and suppressed these valid skills ~ I decide to attend some classes to understand and direct it for myself. If you ever watch Psychic Kids and A&E, they do this for youngsters who are "out of control" psychics.

The classes I attended taught many tools for centering and owning your beingness in life. They offered a safe place to explore these abilities... to let them out of the closet and play.

One of these tools was called "Being in Amusement"... and I am amused when I confess I had forgotten all about this tool until very recently.

I have gotten sooooooo caught up in being serious! All of my life has been serious business that must be brought under control and managed. Seriousness is a heavy energy. It is like being cloaked in a fog... with an ominous fog horn sounding in the background. With seriousness comes worry, fretting, effort, rigidity, and overall "poopiness".

"Being in Amusement" is a Zen Buddhist / Sufi way of living your life. Zen and Sufism use humor and laughter in viewing and dealing with the human situation and themselves. As Thomas Moore points out in his book "Dark Nights of the Soul," Zen Buddhists and Sufis can see irony in the most serious situations and their laughter frees their compassion and liberates them from worry.

As I look at some of the heavy situations that dance around me, I am looking through the dark glass, lightly. "Where can I find the irony in this?" "How can a be in amusement as I move through and past it?"

This week I have found some amusement. It has lifted the cloak from around my heart and put a smile on my face.

Namaste,

C H E Z

The Path of Job

It seems that ever since I made a commitment to serving my highest purpose, I have been walking the path of Job.

For my non-religious, non-Bible readers... Job was a very devout and pious man. 

Apparently, once upon a long, long time ago, the "sons of God" and "the adversary" had a pow-wow with God, during which, God asks Satan what he thinks of his man, Job. Why God cares for Satan's opinion is beyond me... but...

Satan, being the tell-it-like-he-sees-it kind of entity, tells God that Job is only committed because God favors him, shines on him, puts a wall around him and blesses him. Satan, who you have to admire for his balls to say what he says to the Almighty, tells God that if he messes with Jobs "possessions", Job will turn on God and curse him.

God takes the bet and allows Satan to start f-ing with Job's life. While I can't wrap my noggin around God being the gambling type, that's what the Good Book describes.

Satan has a hey-day! He kills off ALL of Job's offspring ~ 7 sons, 3 daughters and whatever grandchildren ~ in a terrible, Katrina-like wind. Satan is also allowed to afflict Job with horrific boils. Job never curses God. In fact, he says even more pious things like, "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away" and "Shall we receive all the good from God and not any of the evil?"

I have made a type of holy vow in my life; to walk a path of integrity, wisdom and authenticity, to be human yet more divine, to live in this particular dimension, but to be open and explore the multiverse.

I made this vow to my God... and it seems like nothing has gone right since.

Job did not waver in his convictions until the end.

And in the end, his wavering wasn't cursing God or blaming him...

it was questioning him. 

Turns out, God doesn't like it too much when people question him. He, being ultimate creator and all, evidently knows what's best for his creation.

Well, ALL I have been doing is questioning.

Did I do-eth something wrong? Am I being punished? Did God make-eth another wager with the devil and is he allowing-eth him to "f"-eth with me?

Why me?

Now what?

WTF?

Really?

 

As I lay me down to sleep last night, in that soft, fuzzy, alpha space before the theta took hold, I had an epiphany.

I had the idea that this story as a parable... the realm of God being heaven; our higher purposes and divine endeavors and the realm of "the adversary" being terra firma; our material goals, desires and "possessions".

Then I thought of Jesus' maxim, "You cannot serve both God and mammon." 

It startled me wide awake.

I cannot serve the heavenly realms and still be a slave to earthly matters.

I made a conscious decision to evolve; to move from a matter/mind-based existence into soul/spirit-based existence. I am attempting to transcend - blend one realm into another. Both are vying for my attention and devotion. This world of matter bombards me with crises. I feel like all the structures of my life are crumbling to dust.

Am I going to hold fast and steady to my conscious evolution or lose my focus and allow my energy to be imprisoned in the mundane?

Which am I here to serve?

Maybe God (or whatever it is we hold as our Creator/Supreme Spirit) really does know best.

Maybe my life needs completely uprooted and renovated so that the outer appearances (my house, my work, my relationships, my business) match my inner transformation. 

Jesus continues his Sermon on the Mount throughout the rest of Matthew, Chapter 6. His advice is: let God be God. Let him handle all the details. Stop being anxious. Seek first the Kingdom, and all the other things fall into place.

And my favorite, "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Each day's own evil is sufficient."

Namaste,

C H E Z

Afterthought:

I hope, my dear readers, that you know that my messages do not come from some lofty space, aiming to preach. I write from the trenches, embedded in the darker battles of my soul, trying to work the goodness out for myself. 

The Up/Down, Roundy Round

Rather than reaching for the up or striving for the high...

maybe we should be trying to find neutral.

The Buddha and the Christ say, "No duh, Shannan."

 

 

I never said I was a fast learner.

Namaste,

C H E Z

 

Kairos

I keep feeling an urge to stop.

I have labeled this slow down, my suppressed energy, as "depression".

I feel like I am dancing a very, very slow dance... like the last dance of the prom... a barely moving sway.

This is not my normal tune. I think of myself as more 80's pop; Erasure, Howard Jones, ABC, and B52's... lots of hip shaking and the Carlton goin' on.

This current tempo feels off to me. I automatically judge it as "something is wrong" and have been trying to push myself out of it. I am trying to boogie to a drone.

The syncopation makes me feel even worse.

We expect the ebbs and flows of our lives to be coordinated. We try to force the ebbs into our schedule. Why can't I feel slow and melancholy on a Sunday? And really... I can only afford to give that feeling about 10 minutes, cause I have a lot of shit to do and some goals to achieve.

God laughs.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose."

The sun rises and then sets. Tides are high and low. The moon waxes and wanes. Seeds sprout, bear fruit, then wither. The Universe has its own cadence.

If I fall into time with the Universe, allowing myself the inhale... a long, deep breath... maybe it is all just fine.

The Greeks had two words for time. Chronos, chronological, sequential time... and kairos, the supreme moment, an undetermined period of time in which something special happens, a time of destiny.

If I am always trying to tap and jig, I could be missing out on the turning point of my destiny.

This could be my special moment.

I do not have to DO anything. In fact, anything I do in this moment may screw up the symphony.

I can slow down.

Better yet, I CAN stop.

And that could be just what the Universe ordered.

Namaste,

C H E Z