by Dana Taylor
Crash! The unmistakable sound of breaking glass grabbed my attention as I wiped down the elegant kitchen marble counter tops that October day last fall. I turned around in time to see our five-month-old Bengal kitten, Shadow, high tail out of the living room and disappear up the second story stairs to her hide out. Drat that cat! Of course I quickly blamed myself for not removing the beautiful blue and gold scalloped vase from the mantle in the first place. She was growing everyday, leaping and exploring her new home. I sheepishly dreaded having to tell my housemate and home owner, Connie, that her lovely vase now lay in smithereens across the shiny hardwood floor because of my carelessness. Of course, I could put that off, as Connie was currently on vacation in Italy, far away from this house on the hills of San Jose, CA.
Frankly, at the time of the vase break, I was a bit miffed at my spirit guides for not telling me to remove it. It had crossed my mind and yet I had not taken that simple precaution and saved the vase. I’m an intuitive, sensing guides and angels ever around me, helping me navigate the daily functions of life. I rely on their guidance for everything from parking spots to knowing the exact day to place a Craigslist ad in the San Jose area for a place to stay in the middle of a pandemic. Connie just “happened” to browse the listings checking out kitten postings. She got me that day instead of a cat. It would be several months before Shadow joined the household. People remark on my “magical” life. At the moment of the crashing glass, it seemed the guides had let me down.
As it turned out, allowing the vase to break, may have saved my life.
Two nights later, I had finished dinner, cleaned the kitchen and headed up to my room. Being alone in the house, I had turned off all the downstairs lights. My room faced the street and was the only lighted area. By 9 pm I had changed to pj’s and set up my I-pad in the landing at the top of stairs in front of my bedroom doing some yoga. I had turned off the bright overhead lights, preferring the softer light through my bedroom door. Suddenly, my Boho Beautiful routine of stretches and zen poses was rudely interrupted by the sound of breaking glass from downstairs.
What is that cat doing now?, I thought. Cascades of breaking glass kept falling and falling. Good grief. Has that cat toppled the television? Is she running amuck sending artwork flying across the living room? Infuriated, I headed toward the stairs. Just as I reached the first step, the figure of a man rounded the dark corner, about to mount the stairs.
Without forethought, I assumed an Incredible Hulk stance and bellowed, “GET OUT!!” followed by deep growls. Truly, I sounded positively demonic. Guttural roars continued even after he had turned around and dashed away like the proverbial bat out of hell. I only quieted after I heard a car tear off down the street.
I stood at the top of stairs, blinking. Did that just happen? Have I just scared away a burglar? To say “something came over me,” is an understatement. In that moment when I saw that guy, I felt big and powerful. Like I could Kick His Ass.
The rest of the evening unfurled with efficient aid and protection. I’d recently gotten the phone number of a helpful neighbor, Mike. He answered my call immediately. When I said there had been a break-in, he replied, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Mike helped me deal with the police I’d called and then he boarded up the gaping hole in the French door. Mike is a real stand-up guy.
I also had a key to the unoccupied house of my daughter’s in-law’s home a mile away, so I didn’t have to sleep in the invaded house again. Looking back, I can see Grace and Provision every step along the way of the whole episode.
I think back on that experience with wonder. All in all, it was empowering to know I won’t fall apart in a crisis. My guides and angels totally came through. One theory about such things is that certain events have high probabilities in The Field as they get closer in time. The breaking vase two days earlier planted an assumption of a mischievous cat in my mind, not a scary home invading robber.
Had my guides seen the potential break-in and allowed, or even encouraged, the cat to break the vase and thus, set up my mindset? And who or what came through me as I took command at the top of the stairs?
You might be wondering if the police found the culprits. Maybe. The thieves’ activities in the neighborhood were captured on several security cameras and pieced together, which included reading a license plate from the car. I’m hoping maybe I scared the would-be burglar away from a life of crime. One can always hope.
In any case, I am grateful to my spiritual team for their guidance and support. And I’m especially grateful to that naughty cat for breaking the vase.
by Dana Taylor
New Year greetings to friends, followers, and passerbys. Looking back on 2021, most people were glad to see it go. Personally, in retrospect, I had an interesting and generally positive year. Since my husband passed in 2013, I’ve been a modern Mary Poppins, sailing in on my magic umbrella to where I seemed to be needed most. By January of 2021 I had floated down to San Jose, CA, living in the lovely house of a wonderful lady, a mere four minutes drive from the home of my younger daughter, who was about to deliver baby #4. Our darling Caleb was born on January 8 and has joined his sibling tribe with an amazingly sweet personality. I spent much of 2021 in parks, pushing swings or a stroller. The oldest grandchild, Noah, has embraced baseball. My pitching and catching skills have surprisingly improved.
My esoteric pursuits broadened in 2021 with intensive distance energy work for the myriad of names that came my way. My Hawaii prayer partners faithfully meet every Wednesday afternoon via Zoom through Unity Church of Hawaii (all welcome). Of course Covid played a prominent role on the prayer lists. A year ago one of my closest friends, Paula, became very ill. We pulled out all the stops for her. At the darkest hour I contemplated what a hole her departure would make in the lives of people very dear to me. And I had a flash of sorrowful empathy for the thousands suffering such losses in a time of woe. We are immensely grateful that Paula is still on planet Earth here in January of 2022. Her doctor recently told her he hadn’t expected her to survive and sent her home to die surrounded by her family, rather than alone in a hospital. She smiled and said, “He didn’t know about my spiritual team.”
Healing energy and information seems more real to me than ever. The Ever-Flowing Streams of Energy, as I call them in my spiritual memoir (Ever-Flowing Streams: Christ, Reiki, Reincarnation and Me), are flowing still. I tap into them every day, focusing on the names on my list. Some names I “hit” on more than others, sometimes getting full impressions of physical and emotional needs. I send energy as directed. Some times I pass on information that I think would be helpful. In the past two years, I’ve received enough validation of my impressions that I’ve grown bolder in sharing what I see. Of course, often I get impressions, but passing them on doesn’t seem particularly helpful, so I keep them to myself.
My greatest hope for 2022 is that we will collectively break out of the web of fear that has been cast so effectively over the world. The Light of Divinity is shining brightly for those who throw open the spiritual curtains.
Spirit has led me to continue recording meditations and energy transmissions on my YouTube channel. I generally have only a vague idea of what they will be about. I get into the Zone and let the words and energy flow. The latest one is geared for long haulers, chronic illness and anybody who wants to rise to a higher frequency of health.
Now, in January of 2022 I’ve “Mary Poppinsend” to the mountain village of Ben Lomond to a cottage on the banks of the San Lorenzo River. I hear the rushing water and have a view of a genuine replica of a Scottish castle. Redwood trees stand sentinel around me with their ancient Gaia energy. I think it’s going to be another very interesting year!
Bright Blessings, Dana
September 11, 2021
I’ve been grimly ignoring the pull to read stories about the 20th anniversary of the 9/11/2001 events. Sure, I remember where I was when I turned on the TV to watch the second tower come down in real time. I remember Peter Jennings saying, ”Oh. My. God.” But, I didn’t want to go there today. It’s been a beautiful day. I went to the Farmer’s Market, bought gorgeous fruit, took a walk at the park. And yet….
A strange malaise has hovered over me all day. I felt weepy and forlorn. Just tired, I told myself. Get over it. Go to bed early, I said. But tonight, it finally rose into my consciousness—I’m part of the collective sadness of the heinous anniversary. The day the unthinkable happened and the world entered a very dark road we still walk. For the twenty year perspective reviews all that came after. First, the initial destruction and bewilderment of the plane crashes and immediate losses of life.
But what came after was insidious and perhaps more evil than the initial event. The US embarked on aggressive wars in foreign lands against undefined enemies. We invaded Iraq on a fake quest for ”weapons of mass destruction” and chased Saddam Hussein into a hole in the ground. Then quickly executed him.
Our young men and women responded to the call to “defend freedom” to die along the hot dusty roads and villages of Iraq and Afghanistan. The war machine cranked out millions of dollars for guns, tanks, and weaponry. Faceless CEOs lapped at the American war trough. A generation of America’s finest died or came home missing limbs from ied’s and terrorized by Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The recent ignoble retreat from Afghanistan insures a legacy of hardship and misery for the allies we left behind. Good luck with all that.
Excuse me if I’ve gotten just a little jaded about the kindly intention of the actions of the United States government. Pardon my skepticism at the words uttered by the powers-that-be. I’ve been through Richard Nixon, Donald Rumsfeld, Dick Cheney, and the surreal Trump years. And sorry to say Uncle Joe Biden appears to be taking suppression and government control to even greater heights. At this point, I’m frankly pissed off, to put it delicately.
And yet, for the human race, I have hope. For despite the ugly revelations of the Old Guard, I see people striving toward mental and spiritual freedom. The Native American Water Protectors are rising up, finding their long-forgotten power. Women strain against eons of control and debasement. Racism is exposed and denounced. Climate change is kicking our butt. We’re still on a wild societal roller coaster ride. But I think we are beginning to realize we are all in this together.
We live on a small planet. What happens in a market place in China quickly fans across the globe. Social media puts us in instant contact with fellow Tik-Tokers two continents away. The basic desires of humanity for family, shelter, security and peace unites us all.
I can’t control my government, but I can embrace what is in my sphere of influence and give it my highest regard. Whether it’s through my time and energy with my family and friends, positive acts in the community or even creating something on my blog or YouTube channel to raise the collective consciousness, I’m giving it my best shot.
This world is what we make it. Let’s learn from the lessons of the last twenty years. We can do better. We can be better. I know we can.
Bright Blessings— Dana Taylor