>It’s nice to feel normal for a minute

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I was told when I was about nine-years-old that I “walk between worlds”. At the time, I had absolutely no idea what that meant and found it extremely confusing considering I couldn’t walk. That’s how I was as a child – I took everything in literal terms. What the lady meant was that I have extrasensory abilities that classify me as “psychic” or “intuitive” or whatever general blanket term is en vogue these days.

Since the beginning of my life, I float in my dreams. I don’t walk. I don’t use the wheelchair. I float with the power of thought and half the time, I don’t even have a body. I’m just, for lack of a better description, an invisible essence or whatever is me without my body. I have asked some people periodically what they think and if they have dreams like these too. The few people I know who have indicated that they float in their dreams too are also people with some degree of psychic ability. I also travel in these dreams. For example, about a week ago, I “traveled” to Mexico and sat on the coast looking at seashells. I was at a resort but the resort was empty except me. To get to the places in dreams, I float through a tunnel that I can only describe as being made of ice, although it wasn’t cold at all. It just looked like blue and white ice with strange lights inside the ice that looked like aurora borealis. Another consistent phenomena that has been present for my entire life is the sensation of tingling around my head. When I wake up from intense dreams or come out of meditation, my head tingles above my eyes and at the back at and below the crown. The more intense the dream or vision, the more intense the tingling. That was something that really made me feel out of place, because the people I’ve asked have all denied knowledge of such a thing.

Last week, I decided to ask a friend of mine who has more experience in these matters. She answered my email fairly quickly and wrote the following:

Ok, the floating – this doesn’t really have to due with your current physical reality. 🙂 Yippee for that as the current physical reality isn’t nearly as much fun! What you are experiencing is the sensation of being in your energetic body or light body. You are still you, your soul is there, but there is no need for a physical body just your energy. Some people might visualize or describe this as being “contained” if you will for descriptive purposes only in a bubble of light. When you are in this state you are you, your soul, your essence. You don’t need a body to have an experience.

The tingling…the area above your eyes at the back of the head is where the pineal gland is. This is the potion of the brain that shows the most activity during paranormal experiences such as meditation or when you are using your third eye or having other spiritual experiences. It is the place many practices teach you to mentally go to, to activate your third eye and connect to higher beings. While your “symptom” sometimes might occur as a persons third eye is beginning to open for the first time, in your case I sense that it is an indication of how easily and fully you are able to go into an altered state where you leave your body and experience other realities and or dimensions.

Now both of these tie together in that the body-less travel and experience is something commonly reported by people who are able to visit other dimensions as well as the tingling as they are able to so fully go to those places while keeping an ever so thin thread intact to come back to this dimensional reality. In short, you are getting better and better everyday advancing your skills. Now to merge the ability to travel to other dimensions and view the physical reality from that dimension…now wouldn’t that be something to clarify those past life flashbacks! 😉

So there you have it! I’m not so weird after all. There are other people who experience the floaty, travely, head tingly things that I do. My decision to post the information in a blog was inspired by the possibility that there might be other people out there who have these experiences but don’t understand them. My goal is always to help people so they don’t feel as alone as I have through parts of my life in these things.

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>My God, have mercy on me!

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Her last words were, “Pardon me, sir. I meant not to do it.”

The girl born as the Archduchess of Austria married the man intended for her sister when she was just a wide-eyed teenager and became the Queen of France at eighteen-years-old. She was the toast of Europe for the early years of her reign until the outcry of financial reform, food riots and the mob of revolution changed the face of France. A new nation borne from the sacrificial blood of thousands of aristocrats and the French royal family brought Queen Marie-Antoinette to the guillotine on this day in 1793. Her two surviving children had lost their father to the guillotine in 1792 and were cruelly separated from their mother months before she was executed. Her son, Louis Charles, died in prison and her daughter survived only to enter into a miserable marriage with her cousin and die childless in 1851.

What brought Marie-Antoinette to her lowly condition in her last hours of October 16, 1793? The revolution had reduced her family to the name Capet from Louis’ ancestry, stripping them of all royal and aristocratic titles. When her husband was executed in 1792, Marie-Antoinette became known by the French people as the Widow Capet, replacing the many names they had given her before, such as The Austrian Woman and Madame Déficit. She wore a simple black dress during her time in prison and, for a time, refused to take food or to exercise because of her devastation.

The trial by the revolutionary tribunal that led to her death was, in reality, a pissing contest with Francis, the Holy Roman Emperor who ruled over Austria at that time. He was Marie-Antoinette’s nephew and the National Convention was betting that she held value to them in hostage negotiations. They moved the Widow Capet to La Conciergerie, part of the Paris courthouse, to show Francis that they were serious about putting her on trial. He did not react the way they had hoped, however. Even though he was her nephew, he was unwilling to risk more for someone that he had never met in his life.

Marie-Antoinette’s trial was a joke at best since she had no time to prepare a defense as the King had for his trial. Many of the charges brought against her were untrue and exaggerated, often sounding like the libels (like tabloids) that had floated around France spreading lies for years about her. Among other charges, she was accused of incest and sexual abuse of her young son, Louis Charles, but those charges were dropped by the time the tribunal went into deliberations. It took an hour for the tribunal to reach a verdict of guilty on four counts of treason and similar charges. Executing such a hated public figure was a great way for the National Convention to gain and maintain support amongst the French people. Basically, there was no reason to keep Marie-Antoinette alive if there was no powerful figure willing to negotiate for her life. If there was no French gain for her life, she had to die. So she was thrown out to the dogs on October 16.

The night before her execution, Marie-Antoinette’s guard was arrested for showing her too much respect in leading her back to her cell from the trial. A woman tried to get her to eat and she managed to swallow a few bites of bouillon but believes there is no use in her eating if she will die in a few hours. She wrote her final letter to her sister-in-law, Madame Elisabeth (click her to read the letter and see images of it), and wrote these words into her prayer book:

This 16th of Oct. at 4:30 in the morning
My God, have mercy on me!
My eyes have no more tears
to weep for you my poor
children; farewell, farewell!

Marie Antoinette

They told the former queen that she would not be allowed to wear her mourning gown to her execution. The fear was that she would gain pity and support from the crowds if they saw her as an aging, ill widow, no longer a threat to the French people. Instead, she dressed in her only other gown, a thin white cotton house dress, with a black petticoat and a white cap with black trim. Her hair was cut off in order to expose her neck fully for the guillotine blade. She was taken to the Place de la Révolution and arrived at noon. The entire time, she remained cool, steadfast and calm as the Parisian public hurled insults at her from every direction. As she climbs the platform to the guillotine with her hands bound behind her back, she accidentally steps on the executioner’s foot and tells him, “Pardon me, sir. I meant not to do it.” Those were the last words of the most famous Queen in French history. The blade fell at 12:15 pm.

This figure on the right is a very accurate depiction of the way Marie-Antoinette looked on the morning of her execution. It is believed that she suffered from uterine tumors at the end of her life, almost at age thirty-eight, and the condition had been causing hemorrhaging for some time. I’ve also heard it said that she was suffering from tuberculosis as well but I haven’t seen any evidence to that effect.

This picture on the left is the actual blade from the guillotine that ended her life. The executioner’s name was Henri Sanson and he kept the blade after he committed the unnecessary murder.

For me, Marie-Antoinette’s murder in the French Revolution is a symbol of the thousands of murders, bodily manipulations and grisly spectacles and parades of heads on pikes through the city of Paris. She represents all of the names and faces lost to history, like mine, after I was murdered by the same means for no other reason than looking for scapegoats. She was not a criminal any more than I was or anyone else was either. It is an accepted belief that the world can only change through blood and fire, but when you live it, breathe it, witness it and die by it, and carry those memories into future lifetimes, a blinding light shines on the absurdity and waste of it all. I pray no one else has to die the way we did.

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>Empathic babble

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I have been an empath since birth. An empath has heightened keen perception of other people’s true feelings, physical pain, illness, mental condition and their deepest intentions even if they’re hidden. An empath can spot a liar in a crowd and always read between the lines of what people say.

It can be thoroughly draining and some empaths have been known to take on the physical ailments of the people they encounter, such as headaches, rashes, stomach troubles or anything else they cannot find causes for other than exposure other people. There have been days when I have unexpectedly and suddenly become violently sick for no reason, only to have the symptoms disappear as quickly as they appeared when I find out someone I care about was sick or there was some disaster in the world. I get migraines and nausea that coincide with severe earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes and plane crashes.

Managing my empathic nature has been incredibly challenging and I’ve suffered with fatigue and bodily pain for years as a result. I daresay it’s much easier to be a medium, having the ability to communicate with spirits, than it is to be an empath on top of it, absorbing the feelings of both the living and the dead. I’ve sought help from other more experienced mediums and empaths, and gone through training to control these abilities and set personal boundaries so I can function in regular society. Even after all the counseling, training, etc., from more experienced practitioners, I still find myself blindsided and struggling from time to time.

Today I went shopping at a local fabric store and a craft store next to it so I could buy things for my Marie Antoinette costume for Halloween. I’m still getting used to my new wheelchair and making sharp turns in confined spaces has been difficult. Somewhere between the beads aisle and ribbon aisle, I bumped into a woman by accident, upon which brief apologies were exchanged. Even though she got hit with an obnoxious mechanical chair operated by a petite redhead, she barely glanced my way. She was distracted. She was in deep emotional pain, which had helped along a migraine in her this morning. Usually I’m good at ignoring other people’s “issues” because I keep myself fairly protected but I also count on the fact that people typically don’t get close enough to physically touch me. I’m not a hugger. I’m not affectionate. My personal space is very important to me because it’s the only way I can control my empathic tendencies. Struggling with my new wheelchair, however, has left me open to bumping into people and, unfortunately, being touched.

I came home feeling disoriented and, lo and behold, took on that damn migraine. I spent the afternoon in bed, useless to the world. My grandmother said she tried to wake me but I was unresponsive. That’s what happens when I soak up other people’s negativity. My body goes into this hibernation coma thing that I can’t explain. I don’t enjoy it in situations like this, but for whatever reason, I do these things beyond my control. It really gets in the way when I meet new people but they don’t know what I am and I unintentionally read them. Imagine how interesting meeting celebrities is with this little annoyance. I always feel like I’m invading people’s privacy.

I’m tired today. I don’t want to be an empath today. Tomorrow? I’ll be better tomorrow. I never really have a choice but to just get through it.

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