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The Death of Me

PART  1
I knew I was going to die. I mean, going to die in a prescribed number of months and weeks, not like everybody knows they are going to die someday.

I told the doctors to give it to me straight. No hedging around, no false hopes, no patting me on the head and trying to make me feel better. They meant well, and they worried about me.

Little did they know that I regarded death as the ultimate adventure, the answer to all my questions, at last.  Of course, I had a little apprehension.  Who wouldn’t?  But for the most part, I wanted to KNOW!  It was exciting and wonderful to finally find out what happens after death.

All the stuff about a red devil in a fiery hell; angels on clouds and streets paved with gold; or that middle one they call purgatory. I always laugh at that – mentally picturing very small people sloshing around in coffee pots, confined there to percolate over their lives, what they did good and what they did bad.

And all that crap about religion. People have actually knocked on my door to inform me that I will burn in hell if I do not immediately attend their church, accept their idea of who to worship, make sizeable donations, and go door-to-door like they do. They call it “witnessing.” I call it meddling in other peoples’ business.

Churches aren’t the only ones who do this. Whole countries meddle. The United States will condone the behavior of missionaries who travel all over the world to tell people they will die and go to hell if they do not give up their current religion (whatever it may be) and become Christians. I dislike this for a multitude of reasons, not least among them that the missionaries often get arrested and jailed for their interference, and then our own military people must risk their lives trying to free them.

I consulted Wikipedia, and learned that the major religions of the world include:

  • Christians:     2,100,000,000
  • Muslims:        1,500,000.000
  • Of No Religion:   1,000,000,000
  • Hindus:  900,000,000
  • Chinese Folk Religionists:  400,000,000
  • Primal Religionists:   400,000,000
  • Buddhists:   375,000,000
  • Sikhs:  24,000,000
  • Jews:  14,500,000
  • Baha’is:  7,400,000
  • Jains:  4,300.000
  • Shintoists:   4,000,000
  • Taoism:  2,700,000
  • (Thank you to World Religions-Populations Pie Chart Statistics List at WWW.age-of-the-sage.org)

PAUSE FOR INCIDENT

Please forgive me for pausing. My caregiver just found me unconscious on the floor, and has helped make me more comfortable. I seem to be okay now, except for a very bad black eye. It has a strange hardness to it and looks very black and shiny. Doesn’t hurt, though.

I see I need to apologize for my more than necessary attention to religion, as religion is only a small part of the knowledge I seek during my death process. The actual numbers as related to reincarnation are staggering.

I am very ignorant about religion. When I was a teenager, I was engaged to marry a Catholic boy. I was told by his family that I must take Catholic Instruction and become a Catholic before they would permit us to marry. I dutifully trudged to instruction day after day, week after week, and tried to make my mind be a Catholic. Finally, a panel of priests called me into conference to inform me that I had too many questions, and that I had no faith, and therefore, would not be accepted into the Catholic religion.

I don’t know if all those tears were of laughter, sadness or relief. No overbearing mother-in-law, no pimply-faced teenaged husband, no long, boring church services, and the end of seeking after religion; for me, forever. Done. Settled.

I do know that of that long list of religions that I compiled before my face met the rug under the desk, that there is great conflict among the various worshipers. They all believe their own church is the only true one, and they will inherit the earth while everyone else goes to hell or elsewhere.

PAUSE FOR INCIDENT

That was a bad one, but I’m okay now. Let’s get to the exciting part! REINCARNATION!!!

To quote Fox Mulder, “I want to believe!” The idea that any of us have lived and died before is just mesmerizing to me. I might have been, and you might have been…

 A slave who helped build the pyramids and died of heatstroke
 A Scottish child who got lost on the moors
 A traveler who dined or was dined upon at Donner Pass
 A caveman or cavewoman who was buried alive in an earthquake
 An African woman who died of starvation during the birth of her 9th   child
 A fisherman among 160,000 who died in the 2010 Haiti earthquake
 A farm worker who drowned along with 4,000,000 others during 1931 floods in China

What happened to all these people after they died? Where did they go? Heaven? Hell? Another planet? Cold storage facility? There are millions of theories, books written (Remember Bridey Murphy?), prophecies, past life therapy sessions, personal accounts from people who claim to have died and come back to life; little children who “remember.”

Have they become ghosts? Animals? Some people swear their little dogs and cats are waiting for them in heaven. Presumably their fleas and worms, too?

If all of the gazillions of people who have lived and died on earth were reincarnated again and again, we wouldn’t have room for a flea, or anything else. I have to count on my fingers, so I don’t know how to put this in mathematical terms, but just think what the multiplication of people would be over time.

I like the idea of reincarnation. Always have. Always wanted someone to come up with even just one solid piece of proof. Since none is forthcoming, I will try to find that truth myself through keeping a record of my own death process.

Right now, I am having an aura, signaling one of my oncoming attacks. My vision is full of bright sparkles; I smell unidentified odd scents; my limbs feel rigid, and it is difficult to breathe. I will go lie down for a while, and will continue my story when I have rested.

 

PAUSE FOR INCIDENT
I am in a warm, totally dark place. Strangely enough, I can see, but I don’t know what I am seeing. There are strong smells that both attract and repel me. I can’t feel my body; just hard, scaly textures where my arms and legs should be. I hear the sounds of people talking softly, some crying and some laughing.

Perhaps I am in a coma, in a hospital bed. I no longer feel pain, but feel something I can only describe as the absence of life. I think I might have died, but I hear the voices of people around me.

NEW LOCATION: Coffin

“Well, at least we got a few dozen to attend. It was embarrassing, having to almost bribe people to come to her funeral.”
“You’re having a little gathering at your house after the service?”

“Yes, as her sister, I felt I had to take care of things. Nobody else wanted to. At least, she left me a sizable chunk of her fortune, so I can’t complain. She was not much of a writer, in my opinion, but she was a brilliant businesswoman, I’ll give her that.”

“I worked for her for 20 years, and she never gave me credit for anything. I shouldn’t speak ill, but she was cheap and mean, even though she tried to act like she had a million adoring fans and friends. I tried to be friendly, but when I asked her to lunch one day, she looked at me like I was a slave asking the queen to eat with him down at the garbage dump.”

“Well, it wasn’t just you. She was a vain, selfish woman, rude to everybody. I don’t know for sure, you know, but there is sort of a family story that she was going to be married when she was in her teens, but the young man’s parents didn’t want her in the family. It was then that she turned against the world. Well, let’s get her planted and get all this over with.”

Death at Last

 

 

So I heard my sister speaking to one of my employees, and I knew. I was dead, and I was in the coffin with the dead human body I was leaving behind. I had to get out of the coffin before they closed the lid and got on with the burial.

I seemed to be stuck there, wedged in a small slippery space with a tunnel on one end and an opening at the top. I wriggled and squirmed, and finally crawled out of what I vaguely knew was my own ear.

Human traits melted away from me as I quickly scrambled down the varnished side of the coffin. I saw that I was quite handsome, a glossy body about a half-inch long with two light brown stripes behind my head. I had thin, spikey legs, appendages that would someday become wings, and delicate antennae with which I could communicate with other cockroaches and sense the presence of food and water.

The great mystery of life, death, and reincarnation has now been solved. Since I can no longer speak, never mind type, I cannot communicate this great truth to you, as I had hoped. Besides, I sense a warm, dark, safe place nearby, and I must seek protection there while I recover from my rebirth.

BREAKING NEWS: A freak accident occurred Wednesday afternoon on Sharples Road, in front of the Eternal Living Cemetery. Evelyn Parish Meade was killed in a single vehicle car crash. She was just leaving the cemetery after the funeral of her sister, Charlotte Parish, the renowned author and publishing mogul. A cause for the accident could not be determined, but first responders said she was screaming about having something in her ear that would eat her brain. Apparently she was in a state of traumatic grief over the death of her sister, and was declared dead on arrival at Central City Hospital.

Author’s Note:

This story is fiction in its entirety, at least, as far as I know. Over a period of three weeks, this account of life, death and reincarnation was produced during several sessions of a process called Automatic Writing. It did require some spelling and grammar changes and a general clean-up, but the information contained is basically what was received.

From Sweet Nan:

Thank you for visiting Psychic Flashes.  Please come again.

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Casual Clairvoyance: The Art of People Watching

Do you watch people?

Do you watch people?

Happy to see you!

Welcome from Sweet Nan!

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One day I saw a pregnant woman getting out of a car.  She looked happy and pleasant, if a little uncomfortable and awkward.  As I watched, almost feeling her discomfort, a pale blue light appeared around her, and an adorable baby face peered out at me.  “Hello, beautiful boy,” I thought at him.  He gave me an angelic smile before fading out of view.

This was a good bit more than I had bargained for from simple people watching, and I felt kind of stunned as the pregnant lady continued on her way, apparently unaware of anything unusual.

You just never know what you might see when you catch sight of someone (or something) out of the corner of your eye.

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Hey, admit it!  You know you like to watch other people.  “Oh, is that orange thing a wig?”  Or, “What on earth is that woman wearing?”  Or, “OMG, she’s falling out of her top and her pants are so tight she might as well be naked!”

All my life, I have loved to watch people.  I love to see what they are doing, what they are wearing, who they are with, how they treat other people. and discover rich insights into what makes them tick.

In the not-too-distant past, people watching was a favorite pastime for many people.  If was interesting and free, and could be done almost anywhere; a mall, a park, or at an airport.   Waiting in a parked car provides a good spot for a little innocent spying on people passing by.

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But times have changed, and not for the better.  We’re not in Small Town America anymore.   Everything seemed to go faster.  Little towns became cities full of criminals and thugs.  Crime rose with overpopulation.  More people became suspicious and dangerous.  Street gangs fought and marked what they perceived to belong to them with vulgar markings on public or private buildings.  Sexual predators abounded.

If someone doesn’t like the way you are looking at him, or doesn’t like the fact that you are looking at him at all, he might take out his gun and shoot you.  People watching was no longer a viable form of entertainment.

I am stubborn, and didn’t want to give up people watching.  It was one of my favorite sources of entertainment.  So, I began to watch surreptitiously.  I learned to appear to focus on some object near a person I wanted to watch, but taught myself to actually watch my target out of the corner of my eye.  Most people didn’t notice; I seemed to be looking at a tree or at cars going by.  If my target did seem a little squirmy, I stopped immediately and moved on.  Some people can feel when they are being watched.  Don’t forget that; it’s important!

Watch and Be Watched

Watch and Be Watched

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In my new form of people watching, I began to notice tiny flashes of light, sometimes transparent colors, and a sense of something moving as I practiced my little hobby.  I put it down to my imagination or my poor eyesight, and continued my harmless venture.

But the day I saw the pregnant lady and her unborn child made me realize I had found more than I had bargained for  It appeared I had opened a gate that I could not close. I continued to see more about people than I wanted to, even though I did not try.

I saw a toddler with golden curls and a pink dress playing happily, but angels hovered all around her with sad faces, and I knew the child was going to die.

An elderly lady leaned on a walker as she waited for the elevator.  Her aura was beautiful, gray with streaks of pink and gold.  A peaceful feeling emanated from her.  She knew she would die soon, and had come to terms with it, even looking forward to death.  She was sure she would be with her Heavenly Father.

I  was not at ease with this state of affairs, but I could not seem to turn the faucet off.  Against my will, I would occasionally see something, usually not anything terrible, but I felt uncomfortable now when I saw sadness, anger, fear, or even happiness

I was sitting in a crowded medical office one day, occasionally glancing around at various people.  As my glance passed by a rather mild looking middle aged man, a bright orange halo appeared all around him.  I’m sure I gaped in surprise, and then he glared straight at me.  I felt horrible, hateful, murderous thoughts being aimed at me.  This man wanted to kill someone!  And he fully intended to do it!

I admit to being frightened, and could not think of the right thing to do.  You can’t call the police and tell them a man is going to kill someone based on reading his thoughts and his aura.  Then I realized I had become a target; he realized I knew something was going on with him.  I felt it was dangerous to leave; he might follow me.  So I put on my glasses and became extremely interested in the book I was reading, too engrossed to look up.  In actuality, I did not absorb a single word.

Finally, I was called inside for my appointment, and when I came back out, the man was gone.

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Sometimes a person will feel he is being watched, and look directly at me.  When this happens, it is wiser just to move on.

So, if you wish to practice casual clairvoyance, just follow my directions, and learn to watch people surreptitiously out of the corner of your eye.  If you practice for a while, you will begin to see colors and auras.  You might want to stop right at that point.

I have not been able to stop the process entirely, although I can control it better now by practicing mind control.  But be careful what you wish for;  you might very well get it!

I would like for you to take everything you read with a grain of salt, including what I tell you.  I would like to help you have a little psychic fun, but don’t give the paranormal world more attention than it deserves.  Pretend it’s a new girlfriend or boyfriend, and keep it firmly in its place!

Bye and thank you from Sweet Nan.

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Window on My World

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Whether storm or sprinkle, thoughts fall into our fertile minds and either flourish and grow there, or dwindle and die.

Presented here are a few of the thoughts that are growing in the garden of my mind.

yellow_birdGIFs:  I am very fond of photos and pictures, especially animations.  I doubt you will ever see a photo of me that has not been photoshopped six ways from Sunday.  I like to use various free photo editing apps to enhance, change, and/or add text to pictures.

child bench umbrellaThis picture is one of my favorites.  I found it in Google Images, the most amazing collection of illustrations I have ever seen.   As a child in the South, I used to sit on the front porch swing and watch the rain and lightning and listen to the thunder.  My mother frowned on this, and when she made me come inside,  I would sit by the fireplace, which had floor to ceiling bookcases on each side, and read everything from The Grapes of Wrath to The Bobbsey Twins.  In Southern California, I guess I am starved for rain and thunderstorms, so I am more or less fixated on any weather different than the constant hot sun baking my brain every day.

Name Stolen from Sweet Alice:  Why I call myself “Sweet Nan” As you may have observed from my tweets and other writings,  I am not particularly sweet.  As a matter of fact, I tend to be sarcastic, grumpy and overly-critical at times.  I have been an admirer of Ms. Harris for a long time.  I have followed her activities in the newspapers, and observed her energy, selflessness, and good works.  I believe her inner nature is as sweet as her face.  I had hoped that by keeping her name in mind, I might develop some of her good qualities.  So far, no luck.

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Sweet Alice Harris

Alice Harris, also known as “Sweet Alice”, is a community organizer based in the neighborhood of Watts, Los Angeles, California. She is the founder and executive director of Parents of Watts, a local youth outreach group. Wikipedia

Born: January 14, 1934 (age 81), Gadsden, AL

Education: California State University, Dominguez Hills

Residence: Watts, Los Angeles, CA

My Opinion on World Affairs:

World affairs are in a very big mess, as everybody knows.  Humans are greedy, warlike creatures, and most wars are fought in the name of religion or good works, but are actually based on greed.  As you know, I am an expert on politics and world affairs (Excuse me, I just put a fudgecicle in my cup of coffee, and it is delicious).

Did we really need to go rescue people from the awful dictator Saddam Hussein?  No, they were doing just fine until we meddled in their business.  We meddled in their business because we wanted what Saddam Hussein had (oil and riches), so we destroyed his city and killed a lot of his people, and we still didn’t get anything.  Then we had to go back and rebuild what we had torn up.  What madness is that?

I can remember my blood pressure going up to Pointing upSurprised smile there when I read side by side columns in the newspaper about (1) what wonderful new schools we were building in Iraq and the wonderful new textbooks and other materials we were stocking them with, and (2) How schools in the United States had no money for textbooks, and teachers in many areas were buying school supplies out of their own salaries.  Just one side of the story, to be sure.  Our own schools waste money like crazy, and our students still get a poor education.  But that’s another story, another opinion, another blog.

PET PEEVE: Immigration, Legal and Illegal

Image result for illegal immigration ANIMATED GIFWhen this country was young, we needed people to come and help build it.  So in came an influx of people from other countries.  The Chinese helped build the railroads.  Many of the Irish were police and firemen.  I don’t believe they were treated very kindly, but they were welcomed as workers and new settlers.

As the years passed, we became a well populated country; some called it a “melting pot.” At some point, we should have realized that we had enough workers, enough people, and that adding more would eventually lead to overpopulation and over crowded living conditions.

Image result for jammed freeways animatedBut in our great wisdom, we did not stop or even attempt to limit immigration.  People continued to pour in, legally or illegally.  They wanted what Americans had, jobs, good wages, homes, cars, big televisions…and they got them, along with welfare benefits, free medical care, free education, and many other things.

Some of us ask, “Why does my neighbor who came here illegally have a better house, a newer car, and more money in welfare benefits than I have on a pension I worked all my life to pay for?” And “Why do they have five or six different names and social security numbers, and why do the women have a child every year to get a bigger check (and teach their daughters to do the same, and on and on).

I personally know a doctor from Russia who came here illegally. She was able to get a green card, social security number, drivers license, and so on, with some help from an immigration attorney and a gullible man she took up with.  She had to take some more (free) college classes to get her medical license here, but she did that, and then sent for her parents, brothers and sisters.  When asked how they would live, she said they were already signed up for everything (housing, welfare, medical, etc.) before they even set foot on American ground.

So through our own original population and the immigrants, legal and illegal, we have overpopulation conditions leading to what I think of as “The Vanishing Americans.”

Raining on FlowersI see there is a little sprinkle of rain today in Los Angeles, and I have shared a little sprinkle of the thoughts that have grown in the garden of my mind.  Unfortunately, it looks like they were mostly weeds, and thankfully nobody reads my blog, or I would be roundly criticized.

Bye for now from Sweet Nan.