Marty and Sam are away at an EMS conference this weekend. I am home, not entirely alone; I have Otto and Klausie boy to keep me company.
Being alone and feeling alone are complete opposites. From time to time, I welcome being alone; I never feel alone, even when I am; thankful since that is a terrible feeling.
When we moved to Vermont and felt homesick, I would call my parents. This may or may not surprise you, but instead of comforting me, my adopted mother would rub it in, making me feel worse when I hung up. She was really something.
Lately, I have been in a great place, and I welcomed this little retreat at home. I picked up some junk food I plan to eat whenever I want, with a bourbon old-fashioned.
Tomorrow, my friend Maria is coming over for lunch to spend some time together outside the dance studio. I set this up as soon as I learned of the guy’s conference away.
Halloween is and has always been my favorite holiday. It was the only day I could be anyone I wanted to be, and no one wanted anything from me except a piece of candy. I am going to a Halloween party Saturday night at the Inn across the street.
I asked our friends Arthur and David if they wanted to come with me since Marty is away. They are in the midst of permanently relocating to their home here in Vermont from the DC area and said yes! Yay!
The little neighborhood we have here in Arlington is growing and becoming to be a fun place to hang out since a great couple recently purchased the Arlington Inn. We also have the new community center, The Arlington Common, which is directly across the street from us with lots of gatherings and events. There has been a very welcome positive shift happening.
Sunday, besides writing my piece on The Middle World, I don’t have a damn thing planned, which is pretty awesome all by itself. Of course, I will miss Marty terribly, but absence makes the heart grow fonder. Yesterday, he told me he had already missed me for the weekend; I got butterflies in my stomach. Not bad for being together since 1985, huh?
Have a great weekend. Of course, I will be taking photos of my make-up and costume on Saturday night and maybe some pictures at the party as well. I feel so calm, content, and happy, which is all I could ask for.
When my boys were small, I made a real Sunday dinner every week like I had growing up. Our family ate my Mema’s, their friend’s house, or restaurants. Remember, my mother didn’t like to cook. I didn’t mind because the food was always traditional and good.
I still make Sunday dinners; this week, we invited Noah over. He looks forward to it because he knows I always make something they like or know. Noah & Sam’s palates have grown in the past few years, so I can introduce new flavors or cuisines.
It’s so different and enjoyable having Sunday dinner as all adults compared to when they were small. Those dinners always ended with crying, complaining, arguing, negotiating, and stress.
One of our favorite Sunday dinners is pork, potatoes, and corn. I decided to make that but turn it on its head; I made an Oaxacan Sunday pork dinner.
We watch cooking travel shows. I love Somebody Feed Phil and Rick Stein’s different travel adventures. I learn a lot in each episode, not only about the food but about the people, their culture, and their history.
Last week it just so happened that the episodes of both shows had Phil and Rick in Oaxaca, Mexico. I recognized different places of interest and attractions in each other’s shows.
When I think of Mexican food, I never think of Oaxacan cuisine or other parts of Mexico. Mexicans use what they have available, and recipes have been handed down for centuries. Mexican people are proud of their culture and their cuisine. I am sure most don’t even know what Tex-Mex is.
I made Rick Stein’s dark, thick Carne Con Chile a couple of weeks ago. I had to make some substitutions for the guajillo peppers I couldn’t find, but it still came out delicious. It doesn’t need too many tweaks, just a few little ones the next time I make it.
The week before, we were in one of our wholesale customers, Honest Weight Food Co-op, in Albany, NY, and I found dried guajillo chilies! I was so excited I practically skipped to the register. They were sold as a portion of bulk food, so I bought 8 of them. The guajillos were still soft and had almost a floral smell; I couldn’t wait to cook with them.
Both of the shows I watched on Oaxacan cuisine included mole sauces. This region of Mexico is known for several different types of mole sauces. Mexicans think about their mole sauces the way the French think about their mother sauces.
Mole sauces come from the Aztec and Puebla people of Mexico. There is a wide variety of moles, and each cook has its own variations. Even though moles can be so different from each other, most contain nuts or seeds, chili peppers, and dried spices.
Some moles use fresh or dried fruits or vegetables. The mixture gets ground or puréed together, making a thick but pourable sauce.
Mole sauces are divided into different types: hot chili-based, sour tomatillo-based, sweet fruit and sugar enhanced, spiced moles, and thick moles.
Mole Poblano is the famous mole that comes to people’s minds when they think of mole sauces. It is a chocolate mole that gets a gorgeous dark color and rich flavor from sugar and cacao, plus other ingredients I mentioned.
Other moles include Mole Negro, Mole Colorado, Mole Verde, and Mole Almendrado. These moles range in color from light brown to black, red, and green. Typical spices used in moles are cumin, cinnamon, cloves, and allspice.
We have never had a mole sauce before, so after watching the two programs and having dried guajillos in hand, I decided it was time to make one. The only thing I didn’t have Mexican chocolate; however, I researched and found a substitute which was 1 Tbsp of cocoa powder + 1/4 tsp of cinnamon for each ounce of Mexican chocolate.
Rehydrating the toasted guajillo peppers and the cocoa powder and cinnamon mixture to substitute for the Mexican chocolate. The spiced rubbed pork tenderloins are ready for the oven.
I found a mole sauce recipe for beginners. Mole sauces usually have between 20-25 ingredients; the one I made had 12. The recipe also included pork tenderloin, which I was planning on making.
Slowly cooking the mole sauce, then puréeing it. This is how I make my mashed or puréed sweet potatoes or squash. They roast and steam face down. The insides are easily scraped out with a spoon, so much better and faster than peeling.
The recipe was straightforward to follow, and the flavors developed quickly. I took a step or two I had learned when making Rick Stein’s Carne Con Chile. For instance, I toasted the guajillo chilis when I toasted the almonds, even though the recipe didn’t call for it.
So damn good!
The spice rub for the pork tenderloin was easy, and the meat cooked in less than 40-minutes. I made a sweet potato purée with cinnamon and buttered corn, both Mexican ingredients that mimicked my original pork dinner.
My family enjoyed the new flavors; the whole meal was delicious. They were disappointed I didn’t make anything for dessert, but you can’t have everything, can you?
Here is the recipe for Pork Tenderloin with Mole I used. I will be making this again and can’t wait to try making other types of mole sauces.
I took this photo tonite from our deck. I didn’t use any filters; this is Mother Nature in all her glory.
This has been quite the psychic and healing week for me. Since I opened the veil to the other side and my third eye, I have been highly in tune with my gifts and abilities.
Last week, I wrote that I performed only one soul retrieval on myself. I did another one this week.
What is soul retrieval? I found this explanation on a website called Lulu Baba. You can click on this link to learn more in-depth information.
A soul retrieval is a powerful spiritual practice that heals soul loss. Soul loss can occur whenever we have trauma in our life. For example, we may experience soul loss if we are in an accident, undergo a serious operation, or if we suddenly lose a close friend or family member.
A soul retrieval is performed in order to seek out and recover broken fragments of your spirit that were severed by a trauma.
Emotional experiences that exceed the limits of comprehension can cause part of your soul to break away from you. Soul retrieval is a way to recover these fragmented pieces.
Soul retrieval is a spiritual journey that can take you anywhere from the astral planes of spiritual existence (places that stretch far beyond the cosmos), to beneath the strata of your inner soul, in order to recover the abandoned and forgotten pieces of who you are.
The soul retrieval I did this week went back a couple of lifetimes. The fact that Marty was there and watched me put it all together is reassuring I’m not out of my fucking mind.
When I do a retrieval, I start a journey but immediately see a door. It is the actual door as I travel through time and space. When I walk through that door, I walk into the time period in which a trauma occurred, something so traumatic I lost a piece of my soul.
The retrieval started with me seeing a huge archway door made of bricks with massive wood and black iron hardware. I pushed it open. I looked to my left and saw a long arched hallway, and I came out of the retrieval.
I got up the following day and found Marty sitting on the couch with the tv on. We took the day off to finish our taxes and work on other administrative work.
I explained the journey to Marty, then the phone rang. He paused the tv, causing it to show Amazon slide-show photos as the screen saver. The pictures are either places around the world or nature. What popped up on the screen made me bug out.
He was on the phone with our accountant, so I had to calm myself as I stared at the photo on the big screen tv. The title of the image was Ruin Wheal Tin Mines.
Image from Cornish Bird Blog.
I went on my phone, and I found it right away. I was shocked because it was the ruin of the doorway I had seen the night before.
I searched a few more images and saw the hallway filled with daylight and not dark when I saw it. Holy shit!
Image from Cornish Bird Blog.
Next, I looked up where it was located, which was Cornish, England. Marty hung up with Deb, and I told and showed him what I saw. He had a look of disbelief on his face. We were both stunned.
I returned to the Wheal Tin Mines the next day while working. I do my best Shaman work while having a soft focus on something else.
After I entered the door, I turned and walked down the long brick hallway, which got darker. A man came up behind me, “It’s your first day, isn’t it now?” How did he know? I guess I looked like a young, frightened kid.
The man went by the name of Clancy. He was older, then again, a 40-year-old miner was old since there were so many health hazards with the job.
Clancy showed me the ropes and told me the one thing I had to remember, “You cannot fall asleep, lad; you have to keep on your toes; here is trouble everywhere.”
In the mining tunnels, men as young as 12 years old lost their lives from accidents, explosions, and cave-ins, while many others died young of miners’ lung.
The work was back-breaking and exhausting. There was a long climb down a metal ladder to get to the mines, a climb that took twice as long to come back up. It was pitch black except for the light from candles, which produced smoke in the mines.
I researched that many miners, even today have problems sleeping because they are always in the dark, and their bodies can’t adjust.
Many men went back to work even more exhausted since they were acute insomniacs. Then the day when that tragic trauma event occurred coming back in this lifetime, making me a lifelong insomniac. So weird.
I sensed something was wrong and ran down the tunnel and found Clancy and a couple of the older guys asleep. I screamed for them to wake up; something was wrong.
They weren’t waking up; I heard a series of loud explosions. At that point, I knew my way around the tunnels; I ran for my life.
Everyone working in that section of the mine was killed. Body parts and clothing were pulled to the top, and the bodies were thrown into a big fire. The smell came back to me. I can’t explain how strange this is.
It was my fault they were dead. I should have tried harder to wake them. I shouldn’t have run; I should have gone down with the ship. I was devastated. It made me sick to think of my friend Clancy.
I got enough information from the series of visits I made back to Cornish. I challenged the other side with a strong sign that what I saw was true.
I questioned the other side why Clancy was Irish when they were in England. When did this happen?
I pulled out my phone and first looked up the years the mines were in operation. It closed and opened many times, but I knew from “myself” it was around 1848, give or take a decade.
Mining in the area began in 1692, but the Wheal Tin Mine left today is from 1815 – 1914. Immigrants fled Ireland during and after the Potato Famine from 1845 to 1852. They were poor and looking for work.
Here is where I got my strong sign confirming what I asked for; the name of the area where the Irish Immigrants arrived was Clare County. My birth name was Clare.
It can take 4-6 weeks for a lost piece of soul to fuse with the soul and more time for it to adjust to having that piece back.
I’ve added doing insomnia reiki hand positions before bed and have a small plate of gemstones and crystals to help with sleep on my bedside table.
I went back to Cornish, telling Robert (that’s me) it wasn’t his fault. He can’t blame himself; Clancy and his buddies didn’t know what hit them.
Next, I saw him in a cardboard-type shack with a crude bed, a small table, a pee pot, a bowl, a spoon, and a tin cup. Everything was covered in soot. He was poorer than poor. I sat on the floor next to him and told him it was ok to go to sleep.
Now, I have to wait to see what happens. I may never be able to sleep, but exploring another one of my lives was amazing.
The first soul retrieval I performed was from this lifetime. After thinking about it, I’ve decided there was too much hurt and pain during that time period to write about.
It didn’t seem like my life as Robert was real, but this was very real since it was about me. It took place while I was at Catholic Charities before I was adopted. I know my three spirit guides were with me for that month; therefore, I was never alone.
This is a few days after I was born. I never saw any photos before I was a month old. I cherish the photos my birth mother shared with me. I cried when I saw them and stared at them for days. I am so blessed I found her and she was open to me. Not everyone has a happy ending like me.
I love and respect my birth mother so much that I want to keep this private. She doesn’t need to think or have to relive that time in her life. Now, neither do I.
I am beyond lucky and grateful I found her back in 2014. I have a close relationship with her, and I would never want to upset her with this. The important part of that soul retrieval is that it solved the attachment disorder I was being treated for.
When I saw my therapist after the soul retrieval, she was amazed at what I told her. After two more sessions, I didn’t need to see her anymore.
Next week, I will begin to write about the middle world. I did my biggest house clearing last week, helping 13 people to cross over, and I got rid of two negative energies. Not too shabby. Lol.
My adopted mother passed away a year ago today. Last night, I was thinking about how it affected me.
I am as relieved one year later that I don’t have to deal with her, her games, or her manipulation anymore.
When I walked into her room and found her dead, my only emotion was relief. It felt like a million pounds were lifted off my shoulders.
The terrified expression on her face still haunts me. Yes, I know people die with their eyes open and mouths gaping, but her head was turned, looking at the door, looking straight at me. Her face and expression are burned in my memory and may never go away. She must love it.
A year later, I am still hurt, disappointed, and sad about how she treated me. How phony she was. How she used me. I am trying my best to put it behind me. I know her behavior made me a stronger and better person. So thanks, Eileen, for that.
I have written blog posts about her over the past year and how heartbreaking my relationship with her was. After decades of mental and emotional abuse, I still went back for more because she was my mother. That was my attachment disorder, to thank for that.
One year later, I feel the same; I think about it less. You would think I could heal my own heart for all my healing work, but this is bigger than that. Much bigger than anything I can do, I’ve tried.
Thanks for your kind words over the last year and for listening as I work through this difficult healing process. I know I need to let go of the hurt; it’s just hard to do, let alone ever be able to forgive her.
I am beyond grateful for you guys and that you have stuck with me through thick and thin. It means a lot. Thank you! ♥️ ~julz
Sam was making himself some instant oatmeal in the individual packages. I watched him pour milk into the empty bag.
“Sam! What are you doing? What, you don’t want to wash a measuring cup?”
Of course he got that shit eaten grin on his face and said, ” These packages were made to be measuring cups.” What the hell?
After he poured the milk into his bowl of dry oatmeal he showed me the package. He said, ”See? I told you.” That little smarty pants know it all.
Well, now I know and so do you. I still can’t believe this is a real thing.
He went on to tell me, people on the go don’t carry a measuring cup with them, especially if they are making the oatmeal in a convenience store, hotel lobby, or in his case the nurses’ break room in the ER.
I don’t know where he gets his logical nature from, certainly not from me.
I’m glad I made his day teaching me another one of his tricks. Remember how he eats his banana, upside down. He still has not convinced on that one.
Each week of this Sunday series about my healing and psychic gifts, I have gone further down the rabbit hole. Hold on to your hats for this one.
I mentioned in last week’s post I have three Spirit Guides. Cho-San is a Japanese Elder/Ancestor who, at first, I thought was Chinese. Walking Moon an Indian Chief & John the Baptist. Weird, right?
When I first met them, I thought it was interesting these were my Guides—digging more profound as to why it suddenly made so much sense to me.
My parents took me to the Elizabeth, NJ, Public Library when I was five. Each time I went, I would take out the same book over and over.
My favorite book was called Dance, Dance Amy-Chan. It was a story about two little Japanese sisters, Amy & Suzy Chan. I knew the book by heart and loved the illustrations.
About seven years ago, Marty surprised me with a gift. He found a used copy of Dance Dance Amy-Chan. Wowzers!
I haven’t seen this book since I was little. When I opened the package, I was shocked that he had found it. I was more shocked that he remembered and looked for my favorite book! He is a keeper!
I opened the book and read it aloud to Noah, Sam, Marty, Otto, and Klausie-boy. It all returned to me and how much I loved it and still do.
I damn near shit today when I opened the book’s first page, which is sadly stamped with the word discard. The photo on the right was taken last June during a photo shoot. We just did different poses for the photographer. This was my favorite one from the shoot. I am holding the fan just like Amy Chan!
Another thing to note is that when I was 5 or 6 years old, I thought that Asian girls were beautiful. I wished I was Japanese or Chinese with their shiny, straight, blue-black hair and porcelain faces.
Fresh ink!
After my father’s death in 2000, I wanted to have a tattoo done to represent how I felt about him dying at only 61 years old of ALS. I immediately wanted to do a sleeve of Japanese cherry blossoms, not pink, but red.
I found something close to this as inspiration; this one is from Adobe stock.
In Japan, a cherry blossom represents life, death, and renewal. It’s a reminder that life is beautiful but short, like the flower itself on the cherry tree. I had my tattoo done in a watercolor effect reminding me of paintings of cherry blossoms.
My tattoo artist Larry and I came up with the design. It was his first watercolor piece. He nailed the hell out of it! I can’t tell you how many compliments I’ve received over this piece of artwork.
After doing two past life regressions, I figured out why I have Walking Moon and John the Baptist. It was unbelievable and answered some childhood fears. Scary, awful fears.
When I was four or five, I had to go through a whole routine after my parents tucked me into bed. It was the only way I felt safe to fall asleep. I never told them this, or anyone for that matter.
As soon as I closed my eyes, I heard marching using my third eye—a muffled marching. I would start to sweat and panic. I would lay on my stomach, stretch my legs out to the sides of the mattress and tuck my hands under my belly. This was every night for a couple of years.
I was afraid someone would come and crucify me while I was sleeping. At this age, I wasn’t in school yet and never took a religion class. The only thing I knew about Jesus and Easter was from my Nana and going to church, but not the specifics of Christ’s horrific death.
At that age, as far as Easter went, I cared more about wearing a new pink dress with my patent leather Mary Jane shoes and little white gloves. Oh, and my little purse. Yes, I’ve always been like this.
In the early 2000s, while working on my healing and psychic skills, I began researching past life regressions, something I had never heard of before.
I started reading books written by Dr. Brian L Weiss. Next, I listened to his guided past life regressions. It was fascinating. I believed in reincarnation but learned it’s not like what I imagined.
Every soul is pure energy, and to continue our soul work in earth school, the soul needs a vessel or a shell, a body.
It’s like recycling energy over and over, either learning lessons or not until we get it right. This is why we can feel that loved ones are still with us; we feel and recognize their energy. They are still with us. It’s a comforting thought to me.
Eventually, after getting over the scary idea of actually doing a past life regression on myself, I tried it instead of just listening to Dr. Weiss’ guided past life regressions.
It took me quite a few attempts over a couple of months to get myself into the necessary trance-like state of relaxation and consciousness.
As a note, if you are frightened to journey or to do a guided meditation, you won’t be able to do it. It’s as simple as that. It’s like trying to put a square peg into a round hole. Also, they will not show you things above your skill level or are not ready to see.
In one past life regression, I was a woman. A regression starts from your death, and you work your way back as far as you can or wish to go.
I was a woman and face down in sandy dirt. My mouth was full of grit and blood; so were my eyes and ears. My body hurt everywhere. I realized I had been stoned to death and knew why.
Here is what freaked me out so much that I almost came out of the regression; I saw I was hiding behind a massive rock with my heart racing.
I heard the sound of marching, the kind I heard when I was little. I saw I was hiding from marching soldiers, the ones who had Yeshua.
I had never heard the name Yeshua before the regression. Yeshua was known as Jesus Christ, but our group called him Rabbi or Yeshua. I know, I know, this is a lot.
I go back further and found myself with a group of women. We were what you would call groupies and followers of John the Baptist before Yeshua came into the picture. Prophets predicted John as the forerunner to Christ.
Jesus and John were related; John’s mother, Elizabeth, who gave birth to him at an old age, was a relative of Mother Mary. The Bible doesn’t say they were cousins since there is no word in Hebrew for cousin.
As John gained popularity quickly, he was imprisoned and beheaded by order of King Herod. Actually, at his daughter Salmone’s request. She wanted John the Baptist’s head brought to her on a platter. It makes me sick to even type this, especially typing their names which I have never done before.
I could feel the pain and grief again after John’s horrible death. I was sad, heartbroken, and angry he was taken from us in such a cruel way.
When I came out of that regression, I didn’t want to share it with my Sunday meditation group. I was shaken up. I thought they would think I was lying or making it up. Who has a famous person as their Spirit Guide?
I decided to share it with them even though I was an emotional wreck about it. That huge childhood fear I had of being crucified was real! It was a soul memory!
I am almost positive that Walking Moon was an Indian Chief in one of the villages I lived in with my tribe in a previous life.
When I did another regression and went back to shortly before my death, I was an old woman with long white hair in braids.
I was sitting in a canoe-type of a boat with one oar. I was paddling down a calm stream surrounded by trees. It was as though I was gliding on the water. It was quiet and peaceful. I was content.
I remember hearing the sound of the paddle hitting the water. I came out of the regression quickly. It was a pleasant soul memory, finally.
Another regression returned to another childhood fear that went well into my teens. As you are regressing, it’s incredible that you can connect the dots in this life.
Whenever I went to a sleepover at someone’s house, went down the shore, or went on a trip with my friends, I would be overcome with the fear of my family dying while I was gone.
I would lay awake at a sleepover and cry because I was so afraid. No one ever knew this fear of mine. Even as a teen on a boardwalk ride in Seaside, NJ, I again became paralyzed with that fear. I pushed it out of my mind and went back to having fun.
I never could figure out why I thought they would die while I was gone and would find them dead when I returned home. Until I did the following regression, that is.
I began at my death, a spear killed me in my back, and I was lying face down in leaves in the woods. I could smell the leaves and recognized where I was.
I was a native Indian man out hunting for our village. All the women and children were slaughtered when I returned to the village. There was blood everywhere.
I ran into the woods to see who did this and looked for my other tribe members. Well, we know what happens next; I was speared from behind and was gone before I knew it.
Right away, that other childhood/ teen fear of my family dying while I was out of town was again explained and made sense.
Now, I know people think I am either an excellent fictional writer with a great imagination or completely off my nut. I get it. It was hard to believe what I was doing just by reading books and listening to guided past life regressions.
When I finally learned how to get to that state of consciousness, the regressions became more accessible, and I didn’t need recorded guided regressions; I could do them myself.
I did seven or eight of them a few months apart from each other. Each was amazing, and I felt connected to those past “me’s.”
I recognized my immediate family in my regressions. We all traded roles and genders, repeatedly trying to learn our soul’s lessons in earth school.
I haven’t tried to do a regression to find out anything about the biological family members I’ve come to know and love.
Besides my meditation group, Marty, and a couple of very close friends, I have never discussed this with anyone; for the very reason of people thinking I was crazy or as a person with a good imagination and storytelling skills.
I promise everything I write about is genuine, honest, and authentic. This is a lot for me to share and a bit scary. I never thought I would write and publish my experiences in a million years, but here I am.
It is an integral part of my blog, telling who I am, why I am the way I am, and how I got that way. In many of my past lives, I’ve seen myself outdoors as a woman cooking over open flames for either family or village members.
I live in a small town in Vermont where everyone will likely think I am a total whacked-out weirdo, but I don’t care; telling my story is more important. Some will think I am a witch, but remember, I promised not to be one this lifetime. 🤣
Have you ever met someone and felt like you have met before in another life? Have you had such a powerful deja vu moment that you felt like you did something before or recognized a place?
When my youngest was in elementary school, he had an evening concert at school. When we got home, he took off his tie and unbuttoned his white dress shirt.
He went into the kitchen and returned to the living room, holding a pretzel rod with the tip bit off like a cigar. He also had an old-fashioned glass with ice and juice in it, swirling it around.
He sat down on the ottoman in a way I never saw before. Then he said, “I’ll tell you, kids, I haven’t felt that good in a long time, not since I was in Chicago.” What?? WTF?
I asked Sam what else he knew about Chicago a few days later. He rattled off streets, buildings, and places. I went on the computer, and surer than shit, he was right. How could this be?
I always felt like he was an older, wise man or grandfather figure, so this confirmed my hunch.
So, what exactly is a past life regression?
Here is a link to Wikipedia explaining it in depth and better than I ever could.
There is so much information about it in books, YouTube videos, and the internet. I started with Brian L Weiss, MD, but many other safe guided meditations exist.
I finally have my anxiety attacks under control with the proper medication, but I still deal with terrible insomnia. I can’t fall asleep before 3 am, getting between 3-5 hours of sleep a night. I am beyond exhausted.
I sleep between 6-8 hours on Saturday nights into Sunday mornings since it’s our day off. I wake up well rested after 9 am, which I cannot do during the week. Sleep is highly underrated.
I am contemplating doing another past life regression to find the answer to my lifetime of insomnia possibly.
The hardest part of achieving that state of consciousness required to travel through time and space is complete silence with no one home, dogs barking, rescue scanners talking, or phone notification sounds.
I will have an opportunity the last weekend of October when Marty and Sam are away at an EMS conference. I will be alone and can turn everything in the house off.
Next week, I will write about the one and only soul retrieval I did on myself back in 2018 while in therapy for severe depression and attachment disorder.
It changed my life; I got a lost piece of my soul back that I didn’t know I had lost and when. I didn’t feel alone anymore or afraid I would lose someone else.
Have a great upcoming week! There is still plenty more to write about in this series; I haven’t talked about the middle world yet, my specialty, or my calling.
*** I took a big deep breath before pressing the publish button on this post. I don’t know why I am so nervous about putting it out there for everyone to see, but I am.
Back in the springtime, Marty and I got a year subscription to Proctors Theater in Schenectady, NY.
The shows are national tours of today’s Broadway shows. The cast members are excellent, and the sets are the same. It’s as good as any Broadway show when they change an original cast.
Our first show of the year was Aladdin. We knew that the special effects would be phenomenal since it was a Disney show; we saw Frozen in 2019 and were amazed at the effects.
The show’s trucks were parked behind our hotel.
We decided we needed to get away for a night; we weren’t even gone for 24 hours. We got production over early, packed up, and headed out by 1 pm. We grabbed a bite to eat and checked into the hotel two buildings down from Proctors.
Next, we went to my favorite day drinking bar, The Backstage Bar, and each had one of their killer Bloody Marys. It’s a Bloody Mary on steroids! Spicy and delicious!
The Backstage’s Bloody Mary is basically a liquid salad. You have potatoes from vodka, tomatoes, celery, horseradish, green beans, jalapeño peppers, gherkins, lime, cheese, and bacon.
Later, we went to a Moroccan place for dinner called Tara Kitchen. We were in a rush to make the show, so we had to hurry. We need to go back again so we can enjoy the delicious food.
Photos courtesy of The Daily Gazette.
The show was excellent, with lots of dancing, which is my favorite! The special effects were fantastic, as predicted, including the magic carpet ride.
We were home by noon the next day. We planned a no-production day which was fantastic since it was belly dance day! Yip!
We learned during covid we need to do things and not talk about doing them; life is too short to miss out on something you like due to laziness or getting home too late.
I love teaching people how to meal plan and cook several meals ahead. This is one step above planned leftovers, and I like to show people how to do that as well.
When I say cooking ahead, that can mean a dish in its entirety, like a pot of spaghetti sauce with meatballs and sausage, beef stew, or a pot of chili. It can also be cooking the most time-consuming or most challenging part of a recipe that can be thrown together quickly in a couple of days.
Today is Thursday, and I am cooking five meals ahead, including tonight’s dinner through the entire weekend. I am exhausted by the weekend, especially Saturday nights, after a long day at the farmers market, and don’t feel like cooking.
When meal planning, I think about dishes with similar ingredients but completely different flavor profiles using produce, meats, and sauces.
I also think about what type of equipment I will need; for instance, if I am going to get my blender out of the pantry, why not use it for two dishes? I also think about ingredient preparation, like chopping or blanching vegetables.
Let me share my menus with you; then, I will explain the method behind my madness.
Roasted Poblano & Sweet Corn Chowder Mexican Style Chili Manicotti with Marinara Sauce Flammkuchen Farmers Market Breakfast Sandwiches
I don’t make chili. I eat it a couple of times a year, while Marty could eat it often. It’s not that I don’t like it; I don’t want to make it. Everyone seems to have their own chili recipes, but I haven’t been inspired to make one myself. Quite weird, I know, for someone who lives to cook.
We watched Chef Rick Stein travel through Mexico, where he made Carne Con Chili, not the other way around. He said everyone in Mexico almost forbids beans in their chili since they serve beans and rice with it anyway.
Marty doesn’t like beans in his chili, and he perked up when we watched Chef Rick duplicate the chili he had in Mexico. Marty said, “I could eat that all the time.” Time to learn how to make chili.
I watched Chef roast dried guajillo chillis with unpeeled garlic and fresh tomatoes. While I am writing about him, I can hear his British accent in my head, changing the pronunciation of tomatoes. Lol.
Problem number one, I can’t find dried or fresh guajillo chillis. I even tried Trade Joes to no avail. This is typical living in Vermont; ethnic ingredients are hard to come by.
So right there, I couldn’t follow Rick Stein’s recipe. Fuck! Now I had to start researching substitutions for dried guajillo chillis. More complicated than you think. I didn’t want to use anything too hot since that is not what I am looking to make. It needs to be smoky with just the right amount of heat.
Rick Stein’s recipe also includes chipotle peppers in adobo sauce; that’s where my smokiness and heat were going to come from. Now, what can I roast with the tomatoes to make the sauce?
I placed the roasted peppers and tomatoes in a bowl and covered them tightly. The skin peeled right off.
I went to the grocery store and found some beautiful red poblano peppers I’d never seen around here before. They also had green poblanos and immediately craved either Chili Rellenos or Sweet Corn and Poblano Tamales. Both dishes would require roasting the green poblano with the red ones. Similar cooking technique. ✔️
Ultimately, I decided to make roasted poblano and sweet corn chowder. Why? It’s easy, and the other two dishes are pains in the ass and very time-consuming, the time I don’t have.
Bacon, bacon bacon! 🥓
Now the wheels started to turn once I decided on the chowder. Bacon. Bacon goes in the chowder. It is also a topping on flammkuchen, another dish Marty requested. ✔️
It can also go on the breakfast sandwiches we planned to make for ourselves on Saturday morning before the farmers market starts. We have a pan and a chef burner, so it’s quick and easy. One package of bacon for three separate dishes. ✔️
We bought a big container of ricotta cheese on sale last week at Shop-Rite; I knew I wanted to make a pan of manicotti for Sunday night’s dinner.
When I make my marinara sauce, I use San Marzano whole tomatoes, which require a blender. What else needs a blender? The roasted red poblanos, tomatoes, and garlic for the chili! Using a piece of equipment kept in the pantry for two separate meals! ✔️
Sauce for chili on left. Rinsed out the blender, then puréed the tomatoes.
I used roughly chopped onions for the chili, marinara sauce, and chowder. I chopped all the onions at once for all three dishes. Two dishes required garlic, so I chopped that right after the onions. While I was at it, I chopped celery for the chowder. One knife and one cutting surface. Similar equipment again. ✔️
Since no contaminates like meat were used, I could reuse the knife and work surface when I removed the skin from the tomatoes, garlic, and both types of poblano peppers. ✔️
I made five dishes, but you could start with two or three dishes to make ahead. Figuring out what to make is honestly the hardest part.
Here is a link to an article on Budget Bytes called mix and match meal prep that explains meal planning further.
Here is another link on Cook the Story titled Same Ingredients on Different Days. Lots of ideas for spending less time in the kitchen.
I also wanted to include some make-ahead recipes from Taste of Home titled 49 Make-ahead Meals for your Busy Family. When choosing recipes, look for similar ingredients, preparation, or cooking style. For example, if you have the oven on for one dish, use the already hot oven for a second one.
The chowder was done. The marinara sauce was done. The chili still has another hour to braise.
I hope some of these links will inspire you to make a few things ahead. Don’t forget that stew, chili, and spaghetti sauce all taste better the next day or two.
Facebook friends used to always ask me how I have so much time to cook so much food. I tell them I would rather spend a couple of hours cooking and doing meal prep than staring at my phone or watching Youtube. Time is what you make of it.
I took photos, so it all makes more sense since it’s difficult to explain. It takes some thought, time, and effort, but now, for the next few days, I have minimum meal prep to tackle while I am tired.
We just finished eating, and the Roasted Poblano and Sweet Corn Chowder was a flavorful hit. I am glad they liked it because I realized I forgot to put potatoes into the chowder as I ate it. Oh, well! 🤦🏻♀️
***I wrote down how I made the chili and chowder, look for those recipes this winter.
We have three pear trees in our yard. For a long time, we only had two. We never got one pear; it was so disappointing to the boys because they were still little.
Finally, someone told us we needed a different variety of pear trees to act as the pollinator. Interesting! What do I know about growing fruit especially growing up in the busiest part of NJ?
We put in a different variety tree, and voila! We had pears on both the other trees. Not great pears, but we finally had pears.
Most of the pears were tiny and funny-shaped with brown marks. Ewwww, the boys would say. Ugh, kids!
Over the years, the pears were still small but got better and better. Sometimes, we couldn’t give them away; we had so many.
This year only one of the trees produced fruit. The pears were the size you find in the store’s produce section.
They didn’t have many spots, so we picked them quickly since Klaus would try to pull the pears off the tree if there were none on the ground for him. Smart little bastard!
All the pears were ripe at once, so Sam suggested I make a giant pan of pear crisp that he could take to his fellow ER night shift nurses who never get any of the goodies dropped off for the day shift.
I put my peeled pears in a water bowl with lemon squeezed in it. This stops the pears from turning brown.
I made the best pear crisp of my life just by winging it. I made a small one for Marty and me to see how it came out. It came out freaking delicious! I couldn’t wait for Sammy to try it.
Maybe it was because I put so much love into making a treat for the nursing staff using local fruit; Sam said it doesn’t get any more local than this.
SVMC ER pear crisp. I forgot to take a photo when it came out of the oven. 😖
The night Sam brought the pear crisp in, he didn’t get to eat more than a bite since the ER was slammed. He said it was perfect, though.
The next night we all know what happened, there wasn’t any left for him, but he was happy everyone loved it so much and said it was the best pear crisp they ever had.
I am a cook through and through. My purpose in this life is to feed people, and I love doing so. When I see people eating my food, I get so happy seeing them enjoying it.
Love is the most important ingredient you can cook or bake with. When people ask how we cook our spätzle, we give them instructions; then we tell them the most important thing of all is adding love.
Our customers think I am kidding when I say that at the farmers market, but love makes everything taste better. It’s funny when the customer’s kid says, “Yeah, mom, you don’t put love in yours.” 😂
This is the first of my short food posts about fall cooking and baking. I’ve been on a roll for a couple of weeks now. Stay tuned.
This image is the closest thing to what I am trying to explain.
I’ve been thinking all week about how to write about the upper world, which is made up of many levels or layers. The first time I went to the upper world was with turtle; the only way I knew how to enter the upper world was with a power animal.
When I started the journey, I went to the lower world to get turtle, and he took me to a free-standing staircase with a million stairs. I carried turtle since he was so tiny, and the next thing he said was, “watch this!” The stairs began moving like a bullet train escalator at the speed of light.
The stairs stopped even though we were nowhere close to the top. We got off and walked through a veil-like cloud into a more extensive meadow like the one in the lower world.
Turtle told me to sit on the bench; this was made of marble, unlike the wooden one I sat on in the lower world. What’s with the benches, I thought? Lol.
Suddenly, an ancient Chinese ancestor or elder stood before me, coming out of thin air. He told me his name was Cho, and he was one of my spirit guides. That’s all he said telepathically to me.
Cho was dressed in a fancy red silk Chinese outfit with a hat. I thought he looked like Mr. Foomanchu with the skinny mustache. I could tell he didn’t have a sense of humor and was all business.
He vanished as quickly as he appeared. Another spirit guide presented himself to me. All I could think of was scrooge and how these spirits were visiting me.
He was Native American, and his name was Walking Moon. He had long dark hair with a square chin and chiseled cheekbones. He was tall and big. He was in his ceremonial wear with a huge feather headpiece. He was intimidating since he was huge.
I remember thinking holy shit! Even in heaven, I swore. They know every move and thought I’d had my whole life, so why stop swearing now? Lol.
After my initial meeting with Walking Moon, he is in more casual attire, a pair of pants and a denim-type shirt. When I asked him why he wasn’t dressed up, he said that’s for special occasions. Meeting him for the first time officially was a special occasion then.
My third and final spirit guide appeared, and somehow I recognized him immediately. Not from photos in books but a past life. This was very weird and strange that I “knew” who he was.
He was an olive-skinned man with thick, long dark hair. He was dressed in light-colored short robes tied at the waist. He was very handsome. He had a white aura around him.
Then, my heart started beating faster; I couldn’t believe it was him; it was John the Baptist. I asked him if he was one of my guides, and he nodded. He didn’t speak to me. He didn’t have to tell me his name since I knew it already. He smiled when I said his name. Wow! Then he vanished.
The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the bench in the lower world still with turtle. I asked him why my guides didn’t talk to me more. He told me they will. They have.
The next time I was allowed to go to the upper world was to visit the Akashic Records. I read about them and was doing research at the time while I was working on my skills.
Seeing what the Akashic Records looked like was my intention for the journey, which was granted to me accompanied by turtle.
We took the “fast stairs” again and, this time got off and walked into an enormous marble building. It was the most prominent building I’d ever seen. Everything was white and marble.
There were many “people,” many hallways, and more staircases with gold banisters. Turtle showed me around and told me this is where everyone’s soul information is stored from every life you’ve had and will have.
The place seemed to go on forever, and while everyone looked happy, this was a serious place. Since my intention was to go to the Akashic Records, that was all I was allowed to do. I didn’t have access to any files in the millions of rooms. I could only stay in the hallways.
We walked down a staircase, and I was back to ordinary reality time lying on my bed. I made a mental note to be more specific next time.
I learned quickly that I don’t have to go to the lower world or upper world to speak to my spirit guides and power animals or ask for help since they are always available, like God, Jesus, Angels, and Ascended Masters.
The upper world was so enormous I felt like a spec of dust. There was so much to take in, and it was difficult even to comprehend what I saw. I was in complete awe. I felt so blessed I was able to visit the AK in the first place. It’s indescribable.
Last night, I tried to journey to the upper world to write about it. When turtle arrived, we flew up the fast stairs, and I was seated back on that marble bench in the meadow.
My guides appeared, and I could tell they had something important to say to me. Cho, who addresses me as “young one,” shook his head at me, telling me no.
Walking Moon spoke to me in another language which I somehow understood. He told me I’d have to” use my references from within.” I talked to him in his language but didn’t know what I said.
John just stood there and smiled at me. Is that all he was going to do? My mouth couldn’t form words to ask him anything. Then, I was back in bed, realizing I wouldn’t be shown anything new but had to reflect on what I already knew. I am sure turtle knew this but wasn’t allowed to tell me.
So that’s it for my upper world experiences. Now that I reopened the veil to the other side after having it closed for so many years, maybe I’ll try to come up with a specific reason to go back again.
Next week, I will write about my spirit guides and why I have them. All my guides have to do with previous lives, which I learned through past life regressions.
My guides now make total sense to me, and I’ve realized as a child, I had strong connections to each of them and never knew. They’ve been with me since the day I was born.
I am still going to write about the middle world, but before that, I want to write about a soul retrieval I did on myself a couple of years ago with my guides while I was in therapy for severe depression.
I also want to write about the past life regressions I’ve done on myself. I can only do retrievals and regressions on myself and not others. The past life regressions I’ve done tie so much together for me.
When people discover I have psychic abilities, they always ask me if I see a loved one around them, but I don’t. I only communicate with middle-world spirits, which I try to help cross over and become unstuck. It’s not for the faint of heart.
Before closing, I want to touch on soul clusters since it belongs to the upper world. Sometimes if I know a person well enough, I can recognize them as another person in a past life. They are part of my soul cluster which we all have.
A soul cluster is the souls you work with over and over, coming back to earth school to try to learn our soul’s lessons. It’s usually family and close friends or people you have in your life. You may have met them already or not yet. All the souls in the cluster make agreements with each other before going back to earth school for specific purposes.
They may come back as a good lesson or a test. I wrote in an earlier blog post that before we come back for another life, we plant soul reminders so we can recognize people in our soul cluster and know they should be in our life. Good and bad people included.
Bad people are just as important as good and loving ones. Bad people are “tests” to see if you have learned their lesson or continue to make the same mistake over and over for many lifetimes.
God knows a couple of souls in my life have been extremely difficult, hard lessons; my mother, for one example. I have no idea if I passed or failed, but when they died, I said out loud that I don’t want to do that again with that soul through all bands of time, which means forever, no matter how many times we come back.
Everyone has intuition and gut feelings that we should always listen to. I believe people know the difference between good and bad people and situations; it’s our free will to make correct choices and decisions.
People believe some things are left up to destiny or fate, but ultimately, we all have free will and must make the best decisions for ourselves and not blame it on destiny or fate. We are all responsible for every decision, lesson, and test.
No living person is perfect; if we were, we wouldn’t be here; we would be a helper in the upper world, hanging out in paradise. I’ve been told this is my 453 life; I am a slow learner. Lol.
This post took a lot out of me.; writing about the middle world will be even more complex. This series is essential since it answers many questions about who I am and how I got that way.
