magic & mystery
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Hamlet, William Shakespeare
Much as I’m practical and take life day by day, I know there are portals we can access for insight. From time to time I avail myself of them, akin to getting a preview of exam questions, to prepare. The effect is limited because although I may gain a little insight, there’s some things that can’t be changed.
Dreams have informed me at their will for as long as I can remember. On occasion when I’ve been stuck and couldn’t see the way forward, or had an inkling and needed more information – dream messages not being evident, the fault possibly mine for not paying attention – I’ve consulted psychic counsellors whose clues may be similarly indirect.
Consulting my horoscope is easy, just a click away. I’m not such a sap that I’m looking for specifics, but a general feel of the planetary influences of the day, week, month as might apply to my particular circumstances. I’ve learnt from experience that communiqués from clairvoyants, horoscopes and dreams may resemble Chinese whispers, and you need to take them with a dash of soy sauce.
On the menu:
Frequently the advice I received was patience, keep doing what you’re doing things will move forward.
I was given information you will buy a house and move north not too far in the future. It didn’t happen right then but a couple of years later the opportunity arose and I acted quickly.
I also received timely advice be diligent in financial affairs which set off a chain of events that obliged my then husband to disclose questionable financial dealings.
I was advised do not take the job option that’s in the air, take the next… and almost 10 years later, I’m still in the next job. It became apparent the first option was only ever hot air.
My favourite information was at the end of a session when I had 5 minutes to fill in, I asked about my sister who was a teenager at the time. The reply was she will rebel and disrupt the family. I thought… not unless she changes a lot. Her style is to make things right not make them wrong. A couple of things I learnt about psychic advice is never rely on the timing… spirit messengers don’t have earthly calendars, and they don’t say more than they need to. Anyway, the information was right, and my sister has the honor of being the first (and to date, only) vegan within our omnivorous family.
Ditto, the ubiquitous Daily Stars’ message you will experience conflicts with children isn’t for me to take literally. My encounters with actual children are infrequent and ephemeral.
Last week my Sagi horoscope suggested not taking a risk is riskier than taking a risk. My risks are off mountain climbing in the Himalayas because at chez EllaDee dullness is the status quo.
This week it’s “Something new and exciting lies on the horizon for you so don’t be freaked out if you’re seeing big changes ahead. Actually, the signs are all pointing to any changes being very beneficial for you”. I wonder how long until the literal big boat of change sails. I’ve had my bags packed for well over a year.
I’m a gun with my lucky gold coin, tossing it for heads or tails guidance, footy tipping selections – augmenting its real purpose of activating supermarket trolleys.
For a while I indulged in my own variety of divination by water bird omens. I miss those heady 4 pelican days.
A convincing dream over a decade ago, where I was in the local newsagency with my sister and grasped a $9.6 million Lotto cheque in my hand hasn’t yet transmuted to reality.
I’ve also been the recipient of helpful messages from, I assume, my personal spirit guides. They come in the form of the 4D knowing accompanying the cryptic crossword clues of my dreams – a feeling, sixth sense or message.
The magic moment that looms large in my mind is the one that promoted mine and the G.O.’s worlds from parallel to merged. Waiting at the lift, about an hour late leaving the office, the words “ring the G.O.” sounded loud in my head. As I exited the building, I pressed his number in my phone. Answering, he said he was in Sydney for another couple of days working, had left his wallet with my contact details at home but did I want to have a drink and dinner the next night… like he’d been waiting for the phone to ring. Sometimes he makes me wonder, that man.
The houses and cars I’ve bought have been accompanied by that knowing.
Remarkable, many years ago upon seeing a little green weatherboard house advertised in the real estate agency window I thought I’ll get it for $104,000. Not paying attention to the knowing, starting the negotiation process I offered $114,000. The response from the real estate agent was No, the vendors will only accept $104,000. Right. Fine by me.
In need of a new car my then husband constantly suggested vehicular candidates of his predilection, all of which I rebuffed. One Sunday afternoon my next car enticed me along an alternate route where I would drive by its car yard, and know there she is. Over 10 years later, we’re still together.
The results are no always so dramatic, it can be a simple as knowing to turn left to find an empty parking lot car space. Random thoughts I didn’t pay attention to… shop at Surry Hills, turn out as knowing messages, such as I realise during the 20 minutes I spend stuck in traffic within sight of the entrance to the Marrickville shopping centre last week.
“You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes well you might find
You get what you need.” The Rolling Stones
If you dream of a ginger cat, it could also mean it infiltrated your dream to persuade you to move to an apartment convenient to its needs. That’s what happened to me.
When offering guidance my dreams come through not necessarily loud and clear, more often like a cryptic crossword clue, which I’ve never had a talent for. Fortunately cryptic dream clues are often accompanied by a feeling, sixth sense or message.
My dreams are frequent and various: recall, processing, healing, psychic, recurring, nightmares, and messages which are usually delivered just before I wake. Sometimes I wake with the dream in my head, or later the memory is triggered. Other times the dream will be hazy, difficult to recall or simply puzzling. I recently I had a mixed mode dream in answer to a request of the Universe for inspiration for a short story. It got me thinking about ways dreams have inspired me.
The ginger cat dream stands out because it’s the reason we came to be at our current apartment, and living with the repercussions. Our beloved Darlington apartment was to be sold and we needed to find another. I looked at real estate rentals online, found a contender a few blocks away, lodged an e-application prior to viewing the apartment. The application required more details than we submitted for our mortgage.
Before I could view the property my sister rang asking for my assistance while she was O.S. to liaise on her behalf with the managing agent of her rental apartment as the tenant was moving out. No problem, I could do that. A few hours later she called back just as I’d been about to call her… I’ve been thinking, you don’t suppose we both said. Talking it over in the evening the G.O. & I both had gut feelings that renting my sister’s Erskineville apartment rather than the other was the right option but the fact her apartment had no parking niggled us with uncertainty. We owned two cars & a motorbike, and coped with a single car space and on-street parking. At Erko there was no car space and oversubscribed demand for limited street parking.
Upon waking the next morning, I said to the G.O. listen to this and tell me what you think… I had a dream I was waiting on the road to the Erko apartment and a ginger cat came up to me, so I fed it some of the hamburger I had and it jumped into my handbag. The feeling accompanying the dream was to go with my sister’s apartment. And that’s all it took. We did. We found car spaces, at a cost, but the proximity to the train line and consequential grime & noise has led us to suspect the ginger cat had his own agenda in commandeering my dream.
A few weeks after moving, I looked from our balcony into the small adjacent park between the street and the train line, and there he was, the ginger cat of my dream. The neighbours knew his story. Ginger was a commitment phobe. His dad was half wild and showed up occasionally – once I’ve seen, his mother disappeared, and brother taken in by another neighbour of whom Ginger was very wary. Ginger had briefly been homed, desexed and tagged but absconded to street life and charity of the neighbourhood. He was well liked, fed and affectionate on his own terms. His routine was to show up in the park most evenings or mornings. One or more of Ginger’s supporters would appear with a bowl of food, and socialise with him. Ginger was happy with pats and rubs even before food. But don’t touch too much and respect his boundaries. Ginger could have come home with any us but he made his preferences sharply clear.
When construction work commenced near the train line, Ginger moved around to the common area between the apartment buildings, where we’d spy him less often but give him a meal when we did. But again footpath construction and workmen disrupted his environment, and we hadn’t seen him since May last year. It doesn’t mean I don’t look. I do. Every day.
Then it happened, when I wasn’t looking, busy chatting. A few days ago, the G.O. and I were walking through the common area between the apartment buildings, and spied a ginger lump in the bushes. There was Ginger Boy – appearing well, wary, affectionate, and a happy recipient of a tin of cat food.
Everyone dreams. The G.O. says he doesn’t dream much. He’s recounted a few dreams to me, mostly about cars, motorbikes or work – things which preoccupy his mind. I’m guessing he dreams more than he recalls. Dreams have always interested me. They’ve been attending my life for as long as I can remember. I trust my dreams and know them well.
I wonder if other people have crazy dreams that impact their waking life and if the effects are as tangible as mine?
As I stepped into Sydney Park this morning on my walk I encountered a tall pirate towing a mini-pirate on a scooter, a bad fairy, a jogging pumpkin and two girls attired in balaclava’s & t-shirts advising ‘run like you stole something’ carrying a printer box between them…
Did I mention it was early?
It was only when I saw the Halloween theme chalked messages on the path I got it… the Saturday morning runners were having a fancy dress event.
I got with it and took a few snaps.
A gypsy fire is on the hearth, Sign of the carnival of mirth;
Through the dun fields and from the glade
Flash merry folk in masquerade,
For this is Hallowe’en!
As posted on the Taylors Arm Community page “ANZAC Day at Taylors Arm seems to grow in popularity every year, and is well supported by the local community and beyond. The Taylors Arm sub-branch of the RSL (the smallest in the state!) has an active base, and fundraises throughout the year in order to bring the ANZAC and Remembrance day ceremonies to the Taylors Arm Community.” This year also there is a new cenotaph.
We set our alarms for 4.30am, struggle into warm clothes and after a quick coffee wander down the road to the front veranda of the pub to join those assembled in preparation for the walk to the cenotaph for Dawn Service.
After the Last Post and the completion of the service with the kookaburras and the arrival of daylight signalling time, we congregate back at the pub with cups of tea or traditional rum & milk. Breakfast is available but just on dawn we make our way back up to our house to be greeted by the sun’s tribute to ANZAC Day.
The sunrise resembled the Australian Army Rising Sun badge .
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
Lest We Forget
You know I’m a lover of horoscopes to provide me with the answer I want to a question or situation. I apply the methodology that so long as you consult as many as possible you’ll end up in the ballpark of the answer that floats your boat. Whether the answer eventuates is another matter. In 2011 despite regularly consulting the Sagi horoscopes for answers to the big questions in my life I didn’t even come close to getting the fame, fortune & freedom they promised.
Once I was back to the same-old-same-old after returning from holidays I had a couple of shots at reading my horoscopes and my expectations are already high particularly as I also factored in the information of the Chinese Year of the Water Dragon being beneficial to my Snake sign.
Aahh but I know I overdid it in 2011, so to start 2012 I’m going to be proactive & make my own predictions, using the scientifically proven (ok maybe not) method of tossing my lucky dollar coin (the one I keep in my purse for shopping trolleys) & calling up heads for yes answers, or tails for no answers.
- Will my job get better in 2012? Yes. Good start.
- Will my job get worse in 2012? No. Oh boy, on a roll here.
- Will my job & I part ways in 2012? No. Oh.
- Will I get a new job in 2012? No. Well, that wraps that up.
- Will the lotto ticket the G.O. invested in last week make a substantial difference to our financial fortunes? Yes. Hmmmm interesting. The best we’ve ever won is $24.
- Will the G.O. & I hitch up a caravan and travel Australia in 2012? No. Taking into account the first 4 answers I’m not surprised.
- Will I win the Women In Focus blog competition & a week in New York? Yes. Yes… yes… yes…
Ok, that was fun and productive. I feel so much better now. No longer relying on third party providers to determine my fate.
What’s this in my In-Box, today’s Quote of the Day email?
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”.
John Lennon, “Beautiful Boy”
C’est la vie
I’m my own worst enemy. I get so caught down in the drudgery aspect of day-to-day I stop seeing and feeling the magic & mystery around me. When I wake myself up to it, it’s truly miraculous. Living in the inner city of Sydney (& elsewhere, of course I know) it’s ever-present, varied & plentiful. There are the fairies, and many personas adopted by my fellow residents, and you have to love them for the colour and character they bestow. After one particularly grim post-holiday return and reminding myself to open my senses, I even saw Elvis, yes the Elvis, buying out the entire stock of Kraft cheese at my corner shop. So now you know it, Elvis is fit (if still a little chubby) & well and living in the inner city Sydney village of Darlington, NSW, Australia. I see gemstone sunrises & sunsets, rainbows, and clouds trying on more earthly forms of garb. I don’t have to go to a gallery to indulge in great art, it’s on the streets & walls around me. And to remind me of my blessings, neighbourhood cats present themselves just at the right time for pats.
Thank you Universe for your gifts,