Saturday, July 08, 2006

All Walks, Just Thoughts

Honestly, getting back to work, I'm not as enthusiastic as I'd hoped to be but I wouldn't say that I'm burnt out anymore.

I can't believe the number of people that I've met: politicians, doctors (academic, medical, and veterinary), lawyers, strippers, heroin/coke addicts, waitresses, psychics, television producers, abuse survivors, depressed people, psychopathic people, psychotic people, social workers, sales reps, horse trainers, carpenters, authors, teachers, dental hygenists . . .

Life is full of interesting folk. My job has taught me that more than anything else. (I also see just how rare psychopaths really are. Of all the hundreds of people I've met, I believe I've only ever come across one. )

I don't think I began giving readings specifically to help people. When I began to see that I was helping people in my own peculiar way, it felt good. I liked it.

When I see signs that I'm helping, I want to keep doing it.

I know that I'm different from other psychics, probably because I'm so strongly convinced that my ability -- whatever you call it -- is biologically based and not the product of some strange confluence of ether and crystal (not -- cough -- that there's anything wrong with that).

I have spiritual beliefs and I don't think biology precludes spiritual reality. I see ghosts and the past and the future because my brain works that way: It enables me to see what others may not. I feel what others feel, even after they've left a room or when they're on the other end of the telephone.

I don't stare at crystal balls; I don't think tarot cards hold any inherent power. I don't think that I'm special. I think I get information and I, ultimately, don't know why except that this is connected to neurochemical events originating in my brain.

All this being said, I hope that my brain works effectively enough to help me drive in the days ahead. I am relinquishing my status as one of life's pedestrians. As my child ages, I realize that I need to be able to get her to her art class, ballet class, keyboard class . . . Somehow, I foresee it only gets busier from this point on.

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