Celebrate the Dead
|Posted by Sara Moore on 16 March, 2017 at 20:55|
Celebrate the dead? Yup. My mom was hit by a car and killed back in 2001. She was in a crosswalk and the glare of the sun blinded the driver. A month prior I had read a book by Sylvia Brown called the Other Side and Back that was all about our life purpose and death. But that's not the point of this post.
My mom used to take time for herself every morning. It meant I had to walk to school, even if it was raining. My mom used to go for a run almost every day that I can remember from middle school until she hurt her knee when i was in college. That meant I was the mom in her absence, but it prepared me for being a mom today. On rainy days she'd put us to bed and run around the house while blasting Donna Summer! I also remember going for a run with her when I was in middle school and we got a lot of honks from the trucks passing by. She mentiond that didn't happen when she jogged alone.
When I was in high school my mom took a workshop with Dale Carnagie. She learned all about visualization and being empowered. She started visualizing what she wanted. I remember her saying she was going to get her own white car. Turns out she did! I now know this is the law of attraction and this is something I totally belive in! She also used to go to a psychic named Virginia once or twice a year. One time I saw mom's planner and caught a glimpse of a few of the questions she was going to ask. I still wish I never did because as a child ignorance is bliss, but turns out when I as an adult I asked the same exact ones! Thanks Ma for letting me know it was alright to get some insight from a trusted source.
My mom was a good Irish Catholic who hated boiled dinners. She went to church and dragged us alone on Saturdays at 4pm. She loved the Ouija board but I will not touch it to this day even though I own two of them. My mom knew who was calling before caller ID and would call me in college whenever I was doing something I shouldn't be. She was "witchy" and I wish I could sit with her for just even 5 mintues to talk to her about my life right now.
But if I did, 5 minutes wouldn't be enough time and I'd be left wanting more. As it stands now, I can feel her around me. My son Z knows all about her and when he's a turd at bedtime his sleep machine turns off as soon as he climbs up to the top bunk. We both know it's my mom telling him to knock it off!
Ma, I miss you. I hear you, I feel you. I still miss you. Lately I've felt you stronger than ever and I am grateful for every sign you give me to let me know you're still around. Your posse in heaven has grown, and I feel them around me, too. Even as I type that my head gets tingly. Thank you for teaching me about the law of attraction. And for teaching me how to ski. I'm actually going with my love and Z tomorrow to celebrate your birthday tomorrow. I made Aunt Sal's chocolate mayonaise cake and am going to make your butter cream frosting. Remember how you used to make white cake with that? YUM. I'll be thinking of you with every bite Ma. I love you. And I miss you.
Dear Toddler Sara
|Posted by Sara Moore on 5 January, 2017 at 19:55|
So this is part 2 of my chatting with little Sara series. I'm doing this to help me better understand why I am the way I am and to let the old me be free of any limiting beliefs. I figured maybe you could tag along on this journey and perhaps do some healing yourself! Yesterday I chatted with Baby Sara, and today I'm chatting with my toddler self. Ready?
Dear Toddler Sara,
So... I see you trying to crawl around but you're wearing a beautiful red velvet dress with a white lace collar. Looks like you're getting tangled in it and it's flat out ticking you off! Funny. I've looked at the glass paperweight that has the image of you wearing this exact outfit, sitting in your toddler sized black rocking chair. You had some dried babys breath flower stems in your hands and were looking directly into the camera, but I never quite knew what you were thinking. I was told the story by both mom and dad about how much you HATED the dresses mom put you in because you weren't able to crawl with them on. I totally get that. Funny that I love skirts now, but I struggle with the feminine foofy side I know exists within me.
You know what else I remember when I was you? That stupid light pink canopy bed. Ugh. It was arched and was held in place by the dowls on top of the wooden four poster bed's posts. The bed was nice, although I really would have preferred bunks. I think I was the only person who was excited to get to college and get the top bunk! Ugh. Anyway. I think we may have been set up a bit to fail with the girly girl expectations. I don't really think it was done with any level of awareness or ill intent, but I think I understand why it's been a struggle for me to feel like I was the girl they wanted me to be. Sure, I'm very grateful I am a woman now. But with a mom who loved everything Talbots and wanted a sweet demure little girl who would let her put ribbons in her hair I did feel like a bit of a disappointment.
Toddler Sara. I'm here to tell you that I'm entertained by how much you wanted to move and be free from dresses that prevented crawling. I kind of wish I could go back and have our two selves meet. I think we'd have some fun and I'm sure we would both hike the dresses up and do what we wanted! And just so you know, lots of little girls would have LOVED the canopy bed! So you really were being spoiled, you were just looking at it from a different perspective. Finally, I have one more thing to tell you.
Do you remember the day you slept in and when you woke up there was no one else upstairs? You were only 18 months old according to mom. I can remember what we saw when you stood on the landing looking down the lime green colored stairs. You felt so alone. Like everyone had left you. And your dad didn't even kiss you goodbye. This is the earlies memory i have of us, did you know that? I can't really remember what that house in Concord, MA looked like but I can remember what it looked like from the top of the stairs. You woke up, realized you were alone and just stood there crying. Mom tried to comfort you but you still were pretty messed up from it. Well, I guess I can see where maybe some of your fears of abandonment came from, huh? Are we really afraid of being abandonded? Huh. Something to think about. I'll have to chat with the 4 year old Sara next and see what she thinks.
I'm going to go and do some very grown up things now. (Dishes, laundry, etc.) But it's your bedtime and I'm going to hook you up with some bunk beds. And pajamas with the feet. I always did love those. Sweet dreams toddler Sara.
Dear Baby Sara
|Posted by Sara Moore on 4 January, 2017 at 19:50|
Today I had a reading with my friend Chelsea Latham. She and I go about things in totally different ways, but she's really great at identifying and clearing blocks and that's what I needed. One of the things she told me to do was to acknowledge my life story but to also rewrite it in some way. I've decided to write my younger self some letters and let "her" heal. I'm ready to move forward and rock this life, but I need to let go of some of the emotional baggage I've been carrying and acknowledge where any self limiting beliefs were formed.
So here I go.
Dear baby Sara,
You are an absolutley gorgeous baby. I know, when your mom found out she was pregnant she was a little worried. It had taken quite some time for you to arrive on the scene and maybe she didn't fully believe it was happening! Her fear means there could have been some fear instilled in you right from the start. It's time to let that go.
Hey, you've heard the story about the day you were born, right? I know you have because you tell it to your son every year on your birthday. But I'm going to tell you again because maybe this will help you let go of some shit. Sorry. Stuff. I forgot you're just a baby! It was a super cold day with brignt blue skies. Your mom knew it was time to go to the hospital and just as they were about to leave the house your dad said, "Stop! Shhhhhh! Can you hear that?" Your mom said, "Hear what?" He said this is the last time this house will be quiet." Pretty cool that he said that, huh? Makes him a little more lovable when you hear me tell it to you, doesn't it?
Then you were born. And you were a girl. Now here's the thing and I'm going to be brutally honest with you. Your mom loved your dad SOOOOOO much, and she knew how badly he wanted a boy. But you were a girl. Missing some parts perhaps? Let me shift your perspective a bit. They were obviously thrilled to have a healthy baby! Your mom even told you how she counted your 10 fingers and 10 toes and it was magical. But perhaps there was a tiny bit of disappointment on her end. Well, baby Sara, that's not your problem. You actually WERE born perfect and I'm here to get you back to that space as an almost 44 yearl old woman. So just let that belief go. Poof! Gone.
What's that? You want to talk about the cradle your dad built you? Alright. So your dad did build you this HUGE cradle. It was about 4' long, 2' wide at least and it had long footboards along each side so your mom could rock it using her foot. That's great but it created a huge space for you to fill. You had to feel absolutely worthy of filling up that cradle made for a king. Or queen. But you were a girl instead of a boy and as we'll see in future blog we'll also see how expectations were pretty high and you just weren't foofy. You're still not and that's what I love about you, but I'm pretty sure that has been a challenge for you.
So my dear baby Sara. You actually were loved. And it's time to be glad that you were the first born because you always felt that you had to prove how great you were. Sucked at the time, but you are a little competitive (in some very bizarre ways) and it's gotten you to where you are today. Congratulations! You really were born awesome and I hope this reminds you of that.
your almost 44 year old self.
Is Santa Real?
|Posted by Sara Moore on 13 December, 2016 at 8:40|
I knew this day was coming, but I wasn't ready for it. Zachary is in 5th grade and turned 11 last week. He is an only child and has always believed in Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Leprechaun who pees green in the toilet every St. Patrick's Day, the Elf on the Shelf (who only started arriving 2 years ago when a friend dropped him off), the Tooth Fairy and God. All things you can't really see but you just simply believe in. This year he has been grilling me about Santa and the Elf relentlessly, and this morning I had to address it because he is feeling so pressured by friends who have told him they're not real that it's stressing him out.
Yesterday was a snowday and I spent most of the day coming up with stories about how the Elf moves. In the past I have caught him nose to nose with the little bastard waiting to see him blink or twitch. He's pretty sure he saw movement and it kept the spirit alive. But yesterday he admitted to me that he touched him with a piece of paper. More than once. And that there's no way he's real because his fingers are plastic and stuck together and he doensn't look like the "real" ones that his friends have. Um, that's because I refused to buy into it and the one my friend gave us is fantasticaly creepy looking! You know that made me happy, but the first day Fred the elf was hiding in the bathroom Z refused to go in it. Oops!
Let me tell you a few other things, just so you know how much this kid believved. He started writing Fred notes and Fred would write back. Every. Single. Night. Fred may have had to set an alarm for 10:15pm every single night to remember to move and respond, but he did it! Fred met the Tooth Fairy one night when they both showed up at the same time and I'm pretty sure some sort of romance still continues. Z thought that was hysterical! But the elf only exists here, not at his dads. So there was some questioning about that but I had smoke screened him enough that it wasn't a deal breaker in his belief.
Yesterday Z said that he really, really was struggling with the concept of Santa and there's no way it's possible for him to exist. Followed with, "And you REALLY think there's a huge bunny who delivers candy? Really mom? Really?" Ugh. When he went to bed he hid the kindle and left it on record to catch me moving the elf, but luckily the battery was only at 22% and died before that happened. The end was near and I was getting beaten down trying to keep up with the doubting child. He's getting taller by the minute, his voice is getting deeper and I can fit into his shoes. But I actually really started to enjoy all this fantasy and watching his face on Christmas morning was worth every middle of the night "OH SHIT I forgot to move the elf!" Today I had to come clean, but I had to do it in a way that made me not cry as I told him and still instill the ability for him to take the reins for the little kids, including his own if he ever has any.
So. There we were, in the car at the bus stop and it was time. Now mind you, I've answered all the sex questions no problem. Didn't even blush and I nailed them! But I knew this was monumental. It went down like this.
Mom. Serioulsy. I need to know if Santa is real, because kids are making fun of me. My dad said hes' not, even Kasen doesn't believe any more, and I just don't think it's possible. I WANT to believe, but it's just really hard to.
Sigh. Ok. So here's the truth Z. Santa does exist, but he exists in our hearts. Kind of like God. You know he's there, but you can't see him.
Ok. I get that. But is he really real?
Well, you know how you're getting taller and your voice is getting deeper? Yes. When you were little Santa and the memory of Santa lived right in the front of your brain. He was real because you believed, and that allowed him to deliver presents and the elf to keep tabs on you. As you got taller and older, the belief started lowering down a bit and into your heart more than your head.
Silence. Deep thoughts by Z. Then he said, "I get that."
But here's the deal Z. As he gets more and more in your heart, it's your job to be an elder and keep that spirit alive for all the kids who do still believe. It's kind of a big deal and it sounds like you're ready.
"I am. (long pause) So does this mean the Leprechaun won't be coming this year?"
Oh no, he'll always come to our house! Grammy Mary Ellen was born on St. Patrick's day and I'm pretty sure she'll keep sending him even when you're a grown up!
The bus headed down the road and Z leaned in for a kiss then got out of the car. I had to fight back tears but know that tonight I will still move the elf and Santa will still leave gifts under the tree. I don't think I'm quite ready for them to not be real even if my boy is.
Going to the Light
|Posted by Sara Moore on 3 October, 2016 at 0:10|
You Can Get There From Here
|Posted by Sara Moore on 26 September, 2016 at 9:05|
You know what I love? The Facebook on this day app that lets you know if you posted anything on Facebook a year ago that day. I find it fascinating to see what I was up to and how my wanderings have led me to here. Actually, they weren't all wanderings. Most of the stuff I'm seeing lately was very strategic and shows my business launching and evolving. I started really getting into Reiki when I was still working at Cranmore, then left there to be a tech at a physcial therapy center and then stepped off that cliff and have been doing this as a career for the past six or seven years. I think. Math isn't my strong suit, but thanks to FB I'm being validated that I really have been a real Psychic for about that long!
Where did it start? Well, first I did Reiki for animals at Telling Tails in Fryeburg and for friends. I did the dog show in Scarborough when Z was about three, then went to a show in Union, ME, then was a regular at Pet LIfe stores doing mini readings on weekends. During this time I started doing reiki for people out of Taylor Chiropractic and expanded into hypnosis, which I think made the owners uncomfortabe and ended my time there. LOL! That has happened a few times actually... The hypnosis training really turned on or perhaps just reinforced my psychic abilities, so my career shifted to more of that than energy work.
When I inquired about doing psychic readings out of Leapin' LIzards in Portland the owner Melissa said they didn't have any openings but that I should come for an interview in case something opened up. The interview was me doing an hour long reading for her while she furiously jotted lots of notes. My father told me I should have at least done some research on her so I'd know a little about her but that totally defeats what I do! I don't know anything and the messages come out unfiltered. She offered me a job on the spot and I started the next week. It was my first "real" gig where people came in looking for readings.
I taught workshops and did readings at the Animal Refuge League of greater Portland, the Animal Welfare Society in Kennebunk, tried to work at our local shelter but it wasn't well received, have been featured on Good Day Maine, 94.9 HOM, Frank FM, at lots of dog events all over New England and I write the Furry Words column for Downeast Dog Magazine, All Things Maine and 406 Bark out of Montana. I've read people in New Zeland, Australia, Canada, Egypt, Spain, France, Belguim, England and all over the United States over the phone and via Skype. I ended up leaving the safety of Leapin' LIzards a few years ago and had an office on Portland and then two years ago opened one in beautiful North Conway. I now focus on readings out of that office and over the phone, with parties and fundraisers for non profits taking up the majority of my time. I have three dog events that I continue to do so I can see my dog friends and honor the people who helped me launch. Pretty amazing, isn't it?
So yes, you can get there from here! When is the last time you looked back and realized all that you have accomplished over the past year or longer? You might be surprised at how far you've come! I think that we all need a reminder to celebrate our successes and a reminder that even the challenges will eventually turn into a success one way or another. I do believe that life works with perfection; we may not like it as it's unfolding. Good news: You have free will and the power to change your direction. Line yourself up to live the life you want! When you're ready, take the first step. Then take another. Enjoy the view. Laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Cry when you're sad or overwhelmed. Sleep when you're tired. Revaluate if you're miserable. Find friends or family who support you. If necessary, shift your persepctive so you can enjoy your adventures. Once you find your groove notice how things start happening easily and go for it!
What Do You Say?
|Posted by Sara Moore on 18 July, 2016 at 10:05|
What do you say to a ten year old when you have to explain that black lives matter? What do you say when he hears that there was another police shooting, or people died in a nightlcub? What do you tell your child when he asks why would someone do that and will they do it here?
I am going to tell you what I said.
I told Z that right now people are angry, and they are sad. And they are hurting. And that everyone matters. I told him that we should all be equals, but that is still a process that is unfolding and we can make a change by sending love to all of them and the entire world.
This morning he said to me that my friend who is a vet tech must be a little nervous. I asked him why, and he said "Because a vet killed those cops." I had to laugh at his innocence but then explained that a war veteran is different than a veterinarian. He then asked why a Veteran or anyone would kill someone? It made no sense to him. So on our drive to camp I explained that the people who protect us and others who serve our country often see the worst of the worst. Some go to war and live in a constant state of hyperawareness knowing that they really could be in life or death situations. They are willing to put themselves in situations most of us couldn't handle emotionally and then they come home. I told him that we may be driving and just see the trees and the beauty around us, but they may see where someone could potentially hide and leap out at them. We see the world very differently.
I did reading recently for someone who's spouse had committed suicide. He has PTSD and he wanted her to know what that physically felt like to him. He said that the body was not designed to have the stressors that he faced. And that it felt like fiberglass inside his body and soul, and that his body didn't know what to do with this foreign concept and tangible manifestation of emotional pain. So he said his body started creating scar tissue around each and every shard until his body no longer felt like his own. And that there is no way to explain that to anyone unless you are living with it. Even as I channeled his energy I could not imagine such an experienced.
Z and I only had a short drive to camp, so the conversation was pretty short and to the point. I told him that it's up to us to pray to fill us all with love. And that there is some reason all of this is bubbling up right now, and it's probably because it's time for us to shift. We're all part of it! You're here right now, right? Welcome aboard. Light yourself up and surround yourself with yellow or pink light. Or whatever feels best. Be mindful. Be aware. Be patient. And be diligent. Things are being forced to change and life may very well be uncomfortable as it does.
I reminded my boy that I am always here to protect him, and that if anything did happen to either of us I would wrap us up with the angels love. It brings tears to my eyes that this is a conversation I had with my ten year old boy, but it felt right. He and his generation are the stewards of our future, and I feel that although I have to honor his innocence and ability to simply be ten, I am also able to help plant a seed of hope and love within him.
|Posted by Sara Moore on 12 July, 2016 at 19:00|
Today I had six readings and my son had no summer camp, which made things very interesting. I spent the first part of the day in the office with face to face clients and then the rest doing phone readings from home. After my third reading Z said he wanted to rearrange the living room, which has looked almost exactly the same for close to 16 years. Sure stuff has been removed and added but for the most part the lights, couches, bookshelves, bakers rack and carpet have remained the same. I guess my tuned in little man felt it was time to mix things up and I couldn't think of a reason why he shouldn't.
So here's the interesting thing that's been wiggling around in the back of my head all day. When we decided we wanted a baby, I rearranged my bedroom and burned my old journals. I figured that if it actually worked I didn't want any offspring learning about any of my old..... escapades.... I also thought that becoming a parent was such a huge shift that I'd just let the universe know I was ready by clearing the slate and starting fresh. Z was conceived on the first month of trying. YIKES!
Today I came downstairs between readings to see everything from the bookshelves in exceptionally sloppy "piles". The couches were moved around and Z had a very clear idea how how he wanted the room to look. So after six readings and getting debriefed on his master plan, we blasted the music and got to work. We'd move something, vacuum, shuffle, sweat, and vacuum again. In essence I was vacumming up my past. My married time in this house, my divorced time in this house. It was all getting cleared.
Oh, I like that thought! We sucked up my past and the things that needed to go have already been dumped in the trash. It doesn't mean I didn't honor the stuff I found. I now could open a store and sell the absurd amount of cat toys that had found their way into the crevices I didn't know even existed. I found all of my missing chapsticks and pens tucked under the heater behind the couch. (Shout out to the Beagle Karma and cats for that) I also spent over 10 minutes removing a fishing bobber from the vacuum extension when Z accidentally sucked it up. I was grateful he was vacuuming, so I didn't get angry. I did get highly frustrated, though, and was pretty psyched I had duct tape and a lobster picker thing to wiggle it free.
As I sit in my "new" home I am wondering whats in store after as a result of the rearranging. My house is clean. It's different than it's ever been before. It's comfortable but totally different. Some things are going to have to get tweaked but there's no way in hell I'm taking on that task right now. The last time I did this I had a child and I can tell you with 100% certainty that will NOT be the outcome this time, but it's definitely the start of something new!
I guess I've felt something stirring already because readings this week have been beyond intense and have shifted to a higher vibration. My eyes and my heart are open. I trust that amazing things are brewing, and are already within reach. Bring it on universe. I'm ready.
|Posted by Sara Moore on 13 April, 2016 at 15:10|
I have been given a clean slate. For about nine years I've been flying solo, working my butt off to simply survive. First I had "real" jobs and dabbled with Reiki and card readings, then about six years ago I finally set out on my own to do what I really felt compelled to do, which is psychic readings for people and pets combined with some hypnosis and lots of energy work.
Remember the bobcat?
He represented fear.
Fear of financial ruin, losing love (my cat Casper symbolizes true non judgmental love), fear of not being able to take care of my family, fear of being alone. Fear of what if every time I take two steps forward I end up taking three steps back?
Well you know what? I'm here to let you know loud and clear that a I've turned over a new leaf and I'm grateful for all of the love and joy I'm feeling. I am financially sound. I have my son, our cats, my family, my friends, my home, my car, my good health. I am never really alone, especially with all the voices chirping away in my head! LOL! When I simply started moving forward with joy and confidence I forgot to look back to see if the bobcat was still chasing me. I took a peek today, and it's not. I released it's power over me by reclaiming my own.
The more I embrace where I find myself, the more I allow all this goodness and positivity to continue. So thank you for being a part of my journey. While I was doing a reading today I glanced over and saw my desk. It's in the sun, with a beautiful happy plant and my work waiting for me to return to it. This may sound a little strange, but it really does feel awesome to be me today and I'm expecting things to only keep getting better!
My Auntie Anne
|Posted by Sara Moore on 23 March, 2016 at 17:50|
So today my Auntie Anne died. She was my godmother and my mothers sister. I found out this morning when my Auntie Janie called to tell me. Although I wasn't suprised she had passed, now that I am sitting here quietly next to my son, the reality is sinking in. My moms family with of six siblings has now been decreased to two. That is just very surreal to me, and I'm trying to wrap my head around it.
My mom was the baby of the family and moved out of Stoneham when I was young. This was good, because I knew nothing of the craziness that goes on in a good Irish Catholic family living just outside of Boston, but bad, because I knew nothing of the craziness that went on, either. After my mom died I became a closer with my cousins and even went to a family reunion about six years ago. It was neat to put faces to the names of the people I'd heard about and I was reminded that we have a really big family!
Auntie Anne had spikey bleach blonde hair for as long as I can remember. She always was tanned, and loved her winters in Florida. Her grandchildren meant the world to her and every time we talked she referred to me as "Sara Anne." I'm going to miss that. Her body had failed her, if you want to look at it in those terms, and she was apparently ready to go. I can't blame her. She deserves to be free of her body, her worries, her pain. That doesn't make it any easier for my Uncle Danny or my cousins who will be burying their mother next week. I have already done that, and I know how hard that will be.
Here's how I want to picture her in heaven. She shows up. Everyone cheers as she arrives, and the wine flows freely. (You KNOW she'd love that, so have at it Auntie Anne!) There's mom, my uncle Johnny, my uncle Brud, her parents, her friends, her loved ones that have predeceased her. Even the old beagle Luke that I remember from when I was a child. The best part is her body is strong. She can be hugged and not feel pain. She can golf, dance, watch us and even have it out with God if she wants to.
Auntie Anne, may you be at peace. My heart is breaking as I type this but I have no doubt you'll let me know you're ok once you're settled in. I love you and am so glad I got to sit with you not too long ago.
The Bobcat Incident
|Posted by Sara Moore on 18 March, 2016 at 14:50|
Most of you know that our sweet cat Casper was attacked by a bobcat on our deck February 26th. My son Z and I were just sitting down when we heard the cat fight on the deck. I assumed it was "just" a cat fight. Nope. I went out the mudroom door screaming to break it up and before I even got to that door Z looked out the glass sliding door and saw the two cats going at it. He opened the door and ran outside just as I rounded the corner. For some reason Casper got away and hid under my little Honda Fit.
We were in full on panic mode.
I screamed at Z to close the doors and turn on all the outside lights. He was screaming at me asking if Casper was ok. I was barefoot and since there was a thick layer of ice on the ground I grabbed my camping bedroll (yeah, I like to lie on the deck and look at the stars so it's stored in my mudroom), threw on some boots and did my best to inch my way far enough under the car to grab Casper. He wasn't budging and I knew that I had one chance to get him by the scruff and drag him out. I am shocked I didn't break his legs in the process but I did manage to get him into the mudroom and into safety.
I could feel the adreneline surging in my system and I had no idea how much damage had been done. Zach was desperately asking me if he was going to live and how badly he was hurt. I knew that before I did anything I needed to regroup. So I told Z to call in all the angels and start praying. Funny thing about him is when I tell him to do this, it makes sense to him. That kid can call in some BIG energy, too! I closed my eyes and started sending Reiki to Casper. I had my hands gently on his sides. I could feel myself grounding and his panic releasing slightly. Then I opened my eyes and looked for blood.
There was blood on his neck and coming out his nose. I wasn't able to see the wound under his chin, whic h was a puncture wound that also had been sliced when he broke free. I didn't know what to do..... I felt helpless, sad, scared. Stunned. A bobcat had just attacked my cat, I had seen it jump over the railing as it fled from the deck and it was 7pm on a Friday night. I blotted some of the blood from his neck and opened the door to let him into the house. I got on Facebook to ask a vet tech friend what to do, and to warn my neighbors that this had just happened.
I have to say that asking people for prayers helped us all get this far in his recovery.
I'm going to fast forward a little to where we are today, March 18th. He went to the vet that Saturday and Kate Battenfelder of True North Veterinary said that although he had major puncture wounds nothing was broken. We decided that I'd syringe feed him through his mouth until he was able to eat on his own, and that time would tell how bad any nerve damage was.
A week and a half later he still wasn't eating on his own and it was time to try a feeding tube. He had an incision on the left side of his neck with a tube going to his belly with the other end extending out and wrapped in gauze to hold it in place. For a week I hooked it up to the syringe and pushed the nutrition into him. This was not an easy process and there is a story behind those experiences as well.
Yesterday Casper managed to pull the entire tube out. I heard him make a funny howl like meow, then silence. When I went to feed him there was the perfect bandage that I had put on him no more than 45 minutes proir, but no tube. Tears. Lots and lots of tears. Tears of frustration, helplessness, fear. Casper had decided that he was done with the tube and I know that he has to figure out how to eat on his own if he plans on living. I'm praying with all I have that he can pull this off. As I sit here typing it he is sleeping like a king on the couch beside me. Apparently he's pleased with himself and I'm still freaking out a little. This really is a live or die situation.
I know that he was attacked by a bobcat that was hungry. But there are so many more lessons to this that I want to share with you. The first is that when Z was born I only got 6 weeks off and I had a full time job. I didn't get to have that gentle maternal experience that I wish it had been. I was in survival mode for a lot of his early years, and I'm amazed and how he and I came together to help save and heal Casper. I didn't realize I had that in me.
Second is that I have had many bobcats in my life. Not the real ones, but people or situations that threatened my safe zone. I'll leave it at that so as not to call people out, but trust me when I say that I've felt like a target for a while. I'm back in my power though. And I'm confident in who I am and what I am capable of.
Another lesson is how we can offer help or support to people, and it's really ultimately up to them if they're willing to be helped. This I can see happening to me at times, as well as some of the people closest to me. Again, that topic is worthy of it's own blog!
I guess I'll end it there for now. I'm sure I'll be writing a book about this sooner than later, but right now I'm going to give Casper all the loving I can. He's the coolest cat I've ever had and I am grateful for all of your prayers and support.
Leaving Fear Behind
|Posted by Sara Moore on 6 January, 2016 at 16:45|
2016 is the year that I stake my claim to the life I am worthy of having. This is a life with love, joy, fun, silliness, abundance, financial security, friends, family, travel, connections (as in networking with kick ass people), and all that I need. Which may be more than what I just threw out there, in case the universe is going to hold me to this. I want everything spectacular and awesome! I don't mind working for it. I've done that my whole life. But this year I've already kicked fear to the curb (after thanking it for making me so clearly need the shift away from it) and things are happening.
The universe can be so witty, and it definitely gave me the chance to be sure I'm ready. Example one. My lovely neighbor has taken care of my driveway and plowed without charging me for a number of years. Since my son was young, actually, and I shot a chunk of ice through the kitchen window while snowblowing in the middle of the night. I am eternally grateful for that financial burden that was lifted from me. Well, party's over and this year I'm on my own. So my boyfriend fixed my snowblower and I got a few passes done after the first storm before it crapped out. My brother and his fiance came up and PJ replaced a belt and I'm back in business.
Example two. I went to turn on my ceiling fan when my brother was over and it wouldn't start. First reaction: panic. How the hell am I going to fix that? I need it to help circulate the heat from the woodstove. I mention to him that I'm going to have to do something about that, and he casually said, "Oh yeah. I didn't know how to turn it off so I stood on the couch and pulled the chain." Well no joke! I always use the dial on the wall! It wasn't broken at all! Example three. That night I was trying to wash my face before bed and the hot water coming out of the sink wasn't heating up as hot as it shoud have. I started to panic inside.... I thought, well, I'll have to deal with that in the morning. Turned off the hot faucet and guess what. I had the cold one running a full blast! My hot water works!
Why are these things so significant? For the past 7 or 8 years it's been scary knowing that I have been doing this on my own and my life and my sons was at stake. I couldn't afford enough firewood, so my house was usually just below 60 during the day and cooler at night. I had run out of propane for my hot water. Twice. And I vowed I'd never do that again. My car died and I didn't have the funds to fix it, but I finally screamed mercy and magical things started to happen. Why was it that it felt so good to fundraise for non profits and donate readings to others, but yet some part of me didn't feel worthy of receiving abundance? Am I jacking my prices through the roof? Not at all. Am I charging a fair rate? Yes.
It's a "Real" Job
|Posted by Sara Moore on 18 November, 2015 at 17:40|
I'm sure many of you heard me tell the story about my son a few years ago, when he was embarassed about what I did for work and he didn't want his friends to find out. We agreed that when someone asked him what I did for work he'd simply tell them "Computers." This summer I had a reading while he had a friend over, and he freaked out trying to think up an excuse for when I stepped into my office and left them to go to work for 30 minutes. I told him that all he had to say was that I helped people over the phone. That seemed acceptable.
So yesterday when I was waiting for him to wrap up his activity in the afterschool program I chatted with one of his friends mom about their dog. Apparently I was pretty accurate, because her husband couldn't believe it and her son, who is also one of Z's best friends, was in on the entire conversation. Today I arrived to school and as I was looking for my son his friend came up and asked me how old his dog was.
I had no idea. I said, "3?" He said nope. She's almost one. Ok. Then I remembered that I had "read" the dog yesterday. As you know, I go totally blank afterwards so him coming up to me and asking me that was as normal as another kid asking me what time it was. Then he quickly asked me how I knew what his dog was saying. His mom showed up and was standing next to me, but I felt the need to be a little discreet about this conversation. Funny, huh? But you never know who may not think talking about a psychic reading is acceptable in an elementary school cafeteria. I told him to think about his breakfast. And that when I do a reading, I "see" the message the same way he saw his memory. The dogs or animals show me a picture in my head, and I explain it.
Then he asked if I can do the same with people. Yes. So you can read their minds? No, not really. Can you read my mind? Ummmmm. If you think of a color I'll tell you what it is. He stared at me.
How did you know that?!
Then Z walked in and his friend ran over to him and totally cornered him by the pile of backpacks. His mom started telling me how he was FASCINATED by what I do and how I do it. I had my eyes on the boys, though, and ask his friend was talking, Z had this smirk sort of creeping towards the corner of his mouth and they kept looking over at me. Then Z had this total shit eating grin on his face, blushed a little and hustled toward me and out the door.
As we were walking to the car I asked him what that was all about. His response was something like this:
"Well, back in first grade and I told him what you do for work he said that it wasn't a real job, and that you can't do that. I told him it was true and he didn't believe me. Then tonight he said that you knew what he was thinking and that he totally believes that you are psychic now and he apologized. I told him, Dude, I KNOW! I tried to tell you that in first grade!"
It was pretty stinking awesome, because Z was proud of what his crazy mom does for a living and also because it wasn't that strange any more. He did mention that he was pretty sure he was going to tell some people and the word would get out. But for the first time since I can remember it didn't seem to phase him!
You know what I told him when I got into the car?
"Bud, you are going to have some crazy stories to tell your kids when you look back at your childhood."
New Life, New Love
|Posted by Sara Moore on 19 October, 2015 at 9:50|
On June 21st I decided that I'd harness the energy of the summer solstice and sat down with a pen and a new journal. I wrote "New Season> New LIfe. Moving Forward. With: Peace, abundance, confidence, support, awareness, love, Z, new car, safety, excitement, strength, ambition, success, pure joy."
The next page has "Old views on love that I release." They include control, power, guilt, exhaustion, manipulation, poverty, suffocating, powerless, alone, finite, painful, unattainable, vulnerable, judged, indebted, unavailable, non existent, fraudulent and exclusive. Holy shit, huh? Those were some negative views on love. All very much earned or reinforced by the people I've met on my journey. It was time to shift.
The next page is titled "My New Views on Love." Are you ready? I'm baring my soul to you here, but there's a reason. Here goes:
I am worthy of love.
Love can be easy. and simple. and complex.
Love is availble to me.
Someone loves me unconditionally and fully.
I am able to redognize their love and embrace it.
Love is FUN!
Passion can and does last forever.
I know who I am.
I am respected. honored. loved. valued.
Faithfulness exists and will exist in my relationship.
I am second to no one.
I am treated like a queen.
Love feels secure.
Love is comfortable.
I am heard and supported.
Zachary feels loved and safe.
I become part of a family.
It feels ok to be vulnerable.
We are a team.
I have true love.
The next page I wrote out the qualities I'm looking for in my love, and then I wrote a letter to the universe and gave thanks and may have added a few more requests. Why not, right? One paragraph inluded:
"Thank you for keeping the perfect man at bay untilI was really ready. I know that now I am, so feel free to work your magic and allow our paths to cross. Feel free to make it ridiculously obvious for both of us, too, please."
Well, our paths crossed in August and if I were to go through the list of qualities I was hoping for he's every single one of them. It has been so much fun and we totally are a team! Z loves him, and I have never allowed myself to be this vulnerable while fully trusting that he and I have created a sacred safe space in which we can both share, grow and comfort each other. I think this is that true love that people talk about, that I never really understood.
So, if you are ready for your true love and haven't thought to really throw it up to the powers that be, give it a shot. I guess all the bullshit I've been through was worth it. I always knew it was, but I am grateful there's light on the horizon. No, that's not true. There's light all around me. Us.
|Posted by Sara Moore on 6 October, 2015 at 7:55|
I have been wanting to sit down and tell you about this dream I had the other night and finally have a peaceful moment to do so. I dreamt that I was doing readings in some strange building and I had seen a woman in the morning to read her dog. She thought that she could kind of hang out all day, but I had other clients so she left and was going to come back later. She did, but she was very late. She had a lot of phsyical issues, needed her special back rest to be brought out of her car and into the office, etc. Pretty much she complained a LOT about how crappy she felt and how it really affected her life.
I was trying to help her but she couldn't get out of her own way. And as I stepped back to let her try to get herself together, this beautiful eagle started soaring above us. I told pointed it out but she was too busy struggling to just stop for even a second and look up.
Interesting. So often we are floundering around and we're shown that we really are going to be alright. We just need to look up. My reaction to her not even caring to try this apporach was interesting. I was pretty disappointed, but then I realized she was doing what she knew. We've all been there. But luckily I know that my dreams are also teaching me something about myself, so I got a reminder to stop flailing and to soar like an eagle instead.
Since that dream I've been taking daily walks and am changing some of my ways to live a more healthy life. Yup. The coffee I'm drinking is even half decaf. But I did still add a little cream. I couldn't help it. It's just so delicious.....
|Posted by Sara Moore on 1 September, 2015 at 17:50|
How do you know that your prayers are being answered? Sometimes all it takes it looking up from the day to day routine and having mindfulness and awareness that something is different. Or that options are being presented to you. Or that things are falling into place just a little bit easier, that the right connections are made or someone swoops in and offers exactly what you need exaclty when you need it.
How am I being told my prayers are being answered? I was wrapped in the best hug I've ever had, and this incredible person told me this:
"I want you to feel safe and warm."
This means more than you can imagine, unless, like me, you have struggled to keep the house warm with a limited amount of firewood, there is no one else there to catch you if you fall, and that you are the breadwinner, the mom, the boss, the employee, the only person responsible for all aspects of your life. There is no victim card to throw. You are 100% responsible for the outcomes. Good, bad, indifferent. I have had faith that I will always be safe, but it's an incredible thought to have validation and the ability to accept that I am safe and maybe I'm not alone on this crusade*.
Being told "I want you to feel safe and warm" will rank among some of the most sincere and loving sentences I've even been told. And it was said with love.
So if you've read any of my proir posts, especially the more recent Chim Chimmeny, you'll know that my prayers are being answered.
*The word crusade fell out of my mouth before I could stop it. Merriam Webster definition: "a remedial enterprise undertaken with zeal and enthusiasm." Sounds fitting for life, don't you think?"
More Than Just a Lion
|Posted by Sara Moore on 29 July, 2015 at 13:15|
This week an American killed a beautiful lion. He paid to have guides help him find it, then he hunted it down and killed it. It hurts my heart and soul to think about it, and I even called him a Fucker on a friends facebook post. I meant every single letter of the word I had directed it at him. I got angry that someone could be that ignorant and selfish and rich to think that this is an alright hobby to have.
I spent the rest of the day heading in a downward spiral and my experiences from the moment I read that mirrored my attitude towards it. People sucked and they all seemed to show me that. From the condescending police dispatcher who made me feel stupid for calling for a welfare check on an older man walking unsteadily to the way my son treated me that night.
I've given it a lot of thought and am seeing a TON of hatred being directed at this dentist. Do we have the right to hate him for it? Yes, I supposed. SHOULD we hate him for it? No. When we put the hate out there we will simply attract more hate. There is power in that emotion and it can trump all the light we've capable of shining. So if you remove the hate we're sending, what can we replace it with? Compassion. For the Lion. Love for his pride that is now facing an uncertain future. Hope. For the humans. May we realize that simply because we have the money and power to exert our will over each other, it is not serving us well. We are a collective. All for one, one for all. In theory at least; I think we have a longggggg way to go before there's a chance we'll embrace that.
Forgiveness. Remember when Brittany Spears was busted driving her car with her baby on her lap? So many people hated her, and I thought, "Wow. Poor woman doesn't know any better." So forgive him. He is teaching us something. It is now up to him how he steps up to the current situation and criticism and if it spawns change. I would like to think we now know better than to hunt and kill to prove that we can, but I'm sure some people are actually listening to the whole scenario and don't understand what the big deal is. That makes me sad. So I'm going to suggest you also replace that anger and hate with Love. Love the earth, yourself, your family, all the animals. Love it enough to treat it and you well and with respect and dignity.
If I bumped into the dentist and knew it was him that was also the hunter, how would I react? I think I would probably simply cry. I would cry for all that he represents, all that we still need to learn and because it only took one of him to make us this angry and it will take all of us to find the love and light to over ride that.
|Posted by Sara Moore on 21 July, 2015 at 19:25|
I see the world in terms of blog potential. I've never really given much thought to whether or not that's a healthy perspective, but for now it's my reality. What does that mean? Well, when I have some crazy or funny or surreal conversation with my son I replay it in my head as a blog post. I can almost feel it being typed out and sharing it with you. For example. This past weekend Z and I were hanging out on the hammock, and he started asking me how I met his dad, how long before we kissed, if we picked him to be our kid, why we got divorced, etc. It was interesting because I've been divorced for over eight years and I got to help Zachary know his 'story." He listened and asked me a lot of questions until he got bored and left me alone with my thoughts. And the urge to blog.
When I'm at the grocery store, and someone is grumpy or I bump into someone I haven't seen in years, I want to blog about it. Sometimes I do! I find inspiration in when I'm driving, dreaming, eating, playing and working. But I don't always follow through and get it onto paper (or laptop). Yesterday I was at a red light and a guy in a white convertible was doing the right thing and using a hands free speaker phone. The woman he was talking to was clearly not happy with him and used quite colorful language to tell him just how much she didn't trust him and how much of a (fill in the blank) he was. I was kind of living in his blog, now that I think of it!
Tonight I did a reading for someone who recently lost a spouse. They are in the very raw reality of their situation and I'm simply a conduit for them to connect with their loved one in heaven. He was channeling through me, so I wasn't really present enough to want to write as I was doing the reading, but afterwards I wanted to tell you all how stinking cool it is to help someone when they are spinning and feeling totally alone and lost. I'm amazed by the experiences I have and someday will write about more of them. Someday. Well damn, that makes me want to write a blog about "SOMEDAY." Why not today?
I guess I'll have to get typing!
|Posted by Sara Moore on 7 July, 2015 at 21:25|
So where the hell is my knight in shining armour? I have really been ok being alone for the past eight plus years. But tonight, I'm pretty damn ready for this magical guy to show up. I was totally enjoying my quiet night, kid free, work free, watching mindless TV and texting and chatting with some friends. This is NOT a normal night for me. This kind of night is a rarity and I was totally enjoying it. UNTIL.... I heard something stuck in my woodstove pipe. If you have ever heard this, you know instantly what I'm talking about. You can hear a slight flutter, then ash or creasote gently tumbling down the pipe.
So what do you do?
Well, I'm guessing most of you said "I call my husband and have him deal with it." That's nice. I don't really have that option. So you know what I did? I took my ash bucket (shiny metal pail that sits year round beside the stove), grabbed a monster flashlight that is hooked to the battery of the "drivah"- honest to god I forget the real word for this thing... It's a power screw driver thing but with a flashlight vs a power tool attached... A drivah. You know what I'm talking about? I'll assume you do. So I carry the phone in my right hand, tucked in my ear because I'm chatting with a friend, stuff the drivah's flash light under my left pit and carry the pail in my left hand. I'm on a mission to free the bastard that's disturbing my peaceful night from the stove pipe. Puts "all stove up" into context. (Again, if you're not hick-ish, this term will be lost on you.)
So. I get to the outside access to the chimney, open it up, and shit- yes, I said shit- starts falling out. It was PACKED full of soot and creasote. FIrst thoughr is "Holy crap! Thank GOD I didn't burn my house down this past winter!!!!" Next thought, "Why the HELL am I the one doing this?" Oh right. I'm divorced, single, and I bought him out of the house. Right. I chose this. This is MY choice to be cleaning out the totally packed chimney. Sigh.
I start poking at the ash and watched the bucket start to fill. Then realized I needed to find something longer to reach UP the chimney to finish the job. Obviously this was going to require two hands so I had to say goodbye to my friend. Sigh. Hung up the phone, shoved it into my bra. (yes, they're good for that.) Goodbye night of singledom freedom! I treked to the back yard, got a 3' long branch I had put into a burn pile in the early spring,and went back to the side of the house. Poke, poke, poke. Crumble, crumble. Shovel, shovel. Bucket gets more full. No critter comes flying out, but I do know that I finally poked through the pile and for now the lower part of the chimney is cleared. I am still, once agian, grateful I didn't burn the house down this winter!
I am also grateful that I am so not a chimney sweep. For a second I had a vision of the guy singing Chim Chimminey, chim chim chiroo and I realized it was a crock of shit. He was totally clean. And you know what? I was totally covered in black, stinky soot. I had to dump the now full bucket, step out of my new (and now totally fouled) sandals before tiptoeing into the downstairs shower and hose myself off. I had to SCRUB all that stuff off of me and even now I totally smell like I just stepped out of a campfire. Which I normally like the smell of, but I REEK and it's not because I've been roasting marshmallows with friends. I have been trying to dig out some poor creature from my gross chimney. Ugh. This was my life.
So. That night in shining armour? Well, he's probably pretty psyched he's waiting until my life is totally "cleaned up." It is. He can hurry up now. I'm ready. And if he doesn''t come, that's totally fine, too! The stove pipe is silent now and I'm just hoping that thing that was in there has seen the light and flown up to the stars. For me, I'll just have to soak in a bubbly tub for a while and pretend this was just a skit I watched tonight on television. Although, the odds of me taking a bath are slim because I'd have to clean the tub first......
|Posted by Sara Moore on 16 June, 2015 at 18:05|
So what are you going to do? Open the door or act like you're not home? The choice is totally yours, and if you're not ready for opportunity to knock then for the love of god go hide in the closet! Why do I say that? Because if you're not ready to embrace it there's a really good chance you're just going to repeat some lessons. Ugh. That sucks, huh?
Let me give you an example. If you tend to do really well but set yourself up to fail at the very last minute opportunity may be giving you the opportunity to change that approach. If you don't understand why you do it or even acknowledge that you DO do it, then opportunity is more like the wolf dressed up like little red riding hood. You'll find yourself in another no win outcome. You have free will and can change this, but if you're not embracing the opportunity then you could be destined for a repeat performace.
Once you can identify if the opportunity knocking is the wolf you can tell it to go away or not answer. I am pretty aware of how many times I've answered the door when I should have been a bit more discerning. It's the frustrating part about being human! So open it! But if you sense the wolf is wearing a dress become aware and invite it in for a chat. Why is this happening again? What do you want to have happen? Are you ready to show this pattern to the door and wait for the perfect opportunity to knock? Yeah. Me too. Show me the new approach please!
So let's try this again.
Great! I've been totally expecting you!