I love history, especially American history. I also love food, so combining both is the best. If I ever wanted to go back to school, it would be to become a food anthropologist. I am intrigued by what people eat and where recipes come from. It is a wonderful way to understand how different cultures and societies lived.
I figured I would make an apple crisp to write about and post my recipe. I know many people still have a surplus of apples hanging around after apple picking. The number of apples never looks like much when picking them, but it’s a different story when you get home.
Apple crisp is a “newer” dessert. I say newer because it was created in 1924 during World War l and food rationing when ingredients for apple pies weren’t available. It became an instant success.
Apple crisp is made with apple slices, sugar, lemon juice, and spices. The topping is streusel made with flour, oats, sugar, butter, and spices. Besides the apples, all the other ingredients are essential pantry items.
A month ago, I wrote a blog post about a gigantic pear crisp I made for the night shift at our local hospital ER, where my son Sam works as an RN. I didn’t post a recipe since I didn’t have one. I just winged it and hoped for the best. It turned out delicious, thankfully.
Cover the apples evenly with the streusel topping. I like to mine with make large streusel crumbs.
Last week I picked up a bag of apples and decided to make an apple crisp. I wanted to write down my recipe and post it. It can be made with apples or pears. It’s one of the easiest dessert recipes; the most challenging part is peeling the apples and cutting them into slices or chunks. I like slices since I think they look better.
Classic apple crisp isn’t diet food by any means, but since it doesn’t include a fat-laden pastry crust, you can make it any way you wish. There are recipes for healthy, gluten-free (mine has the option), and vegan apple crisps.
Right out of the oven. It smells divine in here.
You can add less butter and sugar, add more oats or different types of flour, add how much or little topping you would like, and add more apples or pears. You can add additional spices or leave out ones you don’t like. It’s such a versatile dessert.
Here is the recipe I used tonight. You can double it to make a 9×13 pan instead of the 8×8 pan I used. The amount of spices is to my taste, so if you want to add more or less, it’s up to you. The salt in the recipe is important as it brings out the flavors and rounds out the taste.
Please keep in mind I am not a professional food blogger with expensive fancy recipe-writing programs; if you are looking for nutritional information. My recipes are straightforward recipes that I have tasted and tested for accuracy cutting out fussy unnecessary steps and dishes. Enjoy!
Apple Crisp
Ingredients
The filling:
6 firm apples peeled and sliced into 1/4-inch slices 1/4 cup granulated sugar 1 Tbsp lemon juice 1 Tbsp cornstarch 1 tsp vanilla extract 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon 1/2 tsp nutmeg 1/4 tsp ground ginger 1/4 tsp salt
The streusel topping:
1/2 cup all-purpose flour or gluten-free all-purpose flour 1/2 cup old-fashioned rolled oats or gluten-free oats 1/3 cup packed brown sugar 3 Tbsp granulated sugar 1/4 tsp cinnamon 1/8 tsp nutmeg 1/8 tsp salt 8 Tbsp butter cut into small cubes
Directions:
Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Grease an 8×8 pan with softened butter or pan spray; set aside.
To make the filling: Whisk all the filling ingredients together in a small bowl. In the 8×8 pan, add the apples and the filling ingredients. Stir gently or use your hands to combine until the apples are evenly coated with the spiced sugar mixture.
To make the streusel topping: Add all ingredients to a medium size bowl. Mix and squeeze the butter with the dry ingredients with a fork or your hands until crumbly. Continue to squeeze, forming large streusel crumbles.
Add the streusel topping covering the apples evenly. Bake at 425 degrees F until the apples are bubbling around the edges and the topping is golden brown, about 30 minutes.
To prevent the topping from burning, check often and rotate the pan halfway through baking. Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Serve warm or cold, topped with vanilla ice cream if desired.
Marty looks exhausted, but Otto and especially Klausie are all smiles.
Marty and Sam were away for a few days at an EMS conference; I stayed home with Otto and Klaus. I posted their photos at the end of my middle world post sitting by the back door waiting for them. Klaus also sat on the sixth step of the stairs going upstairs to keep watch out the front door.
They can tell the sound of their trucks from down the street. Klaus jumped up, looked out the front window, and screamed, running to the back door and flying out the doggie door.
Both dogs ran from Marty to Sam back and forth. I am chop meat around here, and only suitable for feeding time. Lol. They were very good boys for me and weren’t needy until today.
While the guys were away, I cooked and ate what I felt like. At first, I joked I would eat peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches the whole time, but I cooked.
I made a pot of Thai Mango Chicken Curry with leftover rice on Friday night. I also made a pot of Autumn Bisque Soup. To be called a bisque, there has to be cream in the soup. The cream in this soup is a scoop of vanilla ice cream that is stirred into the hot soup. It’s heavenly and to die for. I also made a batch of Curried Chicken Salad.
My friend Maria was coming for lunch; I wanted to make something seasonal. These two dishes go nicely together and are a perfect lunch combo.
Maria gave me the most awesome bottle of wine, complete with its own vampire cape. š§āāļø
Maria and I finally got to chat, something we don’t get to do at the dance studio. She and I are alike in so many ways; getting to know each other better is nice. We only know what’s going on in each other’s lives by reading our blogs. Maria’s blog is Full Moon Fiber Art, something to check out, especially if you love farm animals and art.
Autumn Bisque Soup with Curried chicken salad studded with golden raisins and dried cranberries with apples was one of the faculty’s favorite salads I made when I cooked in the school’s kitchens. A lot of students enjoyed it as well.
After Maria’s visit, I started getting ready for the Halloween party I was going to across the street at the Arlington Inn and Spa. My make-up took an hour and a half, and my hair was only about 20 minutes. Before I left, I had time to throw down some leftover Thai curry and three tequila shots. š
Sugar Skull
The party was a lot of fun, and I knew and met a lot of people. I nibbled on some of the charcuterie platters and had a couple of drinks. The party ended at 10, so I left at 10:13 and was home by 10:15 since it’s a few steps from my house. Perfect!
In the foyer of the Arlington Inn & Spa.
When I got home, I made my trashy nachos and slammed down a ton of water. I was craving biscuits and gravy, but that would have to wait until morning.
Trashy nachos with chili beans, Velveeta, and lettuce.
I tried a new gluten-free biscuit recipe and was pleased with how light and fluffy the biscuits came out. I made a pan of sausage gravy, and breakfast was served. Yum! It was exactly what I wanted to have.
Light and fluffy GF biscuits. Better than I expected, which is always a good thing.
After looking at them, I took photos of the food I made and realized that I made all brown food. The picture of the sausage gravy looked like vomit, so I didn’t post that one for sure. Lol.
Biscuits and gravy are one of my all-time favorite breakfasts, tied with Eggs Benedict.
The weekend went quickly; even though they were the ones away, it was like a weekend retreat for me, including a fun party. I’m glad they are home, and now Marty finally has a chance to relax a little; so can Klaus, who is snoring on the couch as I type.
I saved writing about the middle world for last, thinking it was the most over-the-top and scary for people to read about.
While it’s true, thoughts of haunted houses, ghosts that can’t cross over, and negative energies are frightening, especially how each is portrayed in movies and tv.
Am I a chicken when it comes to watching scary movies and reading horror books? You bet your ass I am. Funny right?
The last house clearing I did for my friends a couple of weeks ago helped me sort through my emotions, and I realized why I was chosen to work in the middle world. I say chosen because, as a healer and light worker, the middle world is not somewhere I would ever decide to go.
Over the last 15 years, I’ve helped hundreds of lost souls or ghosts cross over to the other side. The last 13 people I met and helped made me think of their situations compassionately, even if they were difficult, mean, or an asshole, putting it bluntly, something or someone made them that way.
No one wants to grow up that way, but shit happens to good people. It’s my job to figure out why they are stuck and who I need help from on the other side, such as spirit guides, angels, passed family members, and power animals. Most importantly, I must do my job so the ghosts can trust and listen to me.
At the end of all my clearings, I’ve been successful in helping them move on. Only in one situation, I saw something that scared the crap out of me. In another blog post, I wrote you will be unsuccessful if you are afraid and show any fear at all. I didn’t even try.
I will not give those fourth-dimensional evil entities more than a short paragraph. I was afraid, so after discussing with my friend and former house-clearing partner, while I was at the farmers market, she blasted the place with love and light, something that evil beings despise.
Ev lovingly sent them to a place where they can never harm anyone or anything through all bands of the time. Boy, was I glad she is such a powerful light worker and took care of this for me remotely by using reiki energy. What a relief!
Human souls or ghosts come from a place of love and light (God) and will almost always respond and return to it. These black blobs of pure evilness hated it. Good always overcomes evil.
So what and where is the middle world? I’ll do my best to describe it. It is on the same plane or dimension as earth. It is a parallel non-ordinary version of our world. Beauty, trickery, strangeness, horror, and lost or stolen objects and souls are in the middle world.
The middle world is where vibes and thoughts happen; the old saying thoughts become things is the middle world. It is also where psychic phenomena, extra-sensory perception, and unexplained things happen. It is where disease ad illness manifests themselves. Again, back to thoughts become things.
The first time I visited the middle world, I didn’t understand where or why I was there. It didn’t look like the earth; it was gray, dark, and gloomy. Right after I first went to the middle world, I began hearing voices or people talking to me. This is considered crazy. Well, then, call me crazy.
As soon as the thought or word of a place needed clearing, some of the stuck beings or lost souls began speaking to me. It’s always when I am awake and focused on something like driving or performing tasks that require little thinking, like cleaning.
At first, I was like, what the fuck is happening, and who is this? All the people who reached out were women who were traumatized, abused, very sick, or frightened. It figures it was the women asking for directions to go home, not the men. š
By the end of my drive or project, I knew their story. I was able to go to the middle world and help free them from whatever chained them to this world.
When it was time for the in-person house clearing, all the ghosts were gone already, and we were there to blast the place with reiki and do a physical blessing.
When we would arrive at someone’s home, I would always ask the homeowner and their family members what they saw. Before we got to the house, I gave Ev the details of who I crossed over.
We were both blown away when the homeowners’ kids described precisely what I saw. Confirmation at its finest, knowing I wasn’t crazy or wacko was priceless.
I mentioned I had to find out why the stuck beings were stuck in the first place. In my experience, it is because they were very sick, killed or tortured in a traumatic way, killed without them knowing it; some don’t want to leave a place or object behind, held against their will by another ghost, or had unfinished business.
Almost every ghost I’ve dealt with didn’t know they were dead. Some were scared, clueless, comical, anxious, stubborn, or too young to know what happened. It’s true; most stuck ghosts are between 16-30 years old, with a few grumpy old men and women thrown in for good measure.
Many ghosts I helped were women beaten, raped, or killed by men; others died of disease or sickness. The men were killed while fighting and shot their heads off either on purpose or without realizing when their guns accidentally went off. Some died of infections from wounds or sickness.
I describe the difference between spirits and ghosts as spirits are souls that cross over and can come and go as they please, showing themselves to loved ones how they think their loved ones on earth would remember them at their best, especially in dreams.
Ghosts are stuck in a house, location, or to an object such as a piano or piece of jewelry. I see them at the moment of their death, not like a skeleton or creepy ghoul but as a sick or injured person.
British cast.American cast.It’s hysterical how the ghosts are watching her smudge their new home with sage; they are like, wtf? Lol
This past winter, we watched a series called Ghosts. We watched the American version, but the original one was British. The series is brilliant and the closest thing to describing to people what it’s like to work in the middle world.
The ghost characters stuck on a property in upstate NY know they are dead and waiting to get “sucked up” to the light. They can’t figure out why they are stuck.Ā
Each episode focuses on a different ghost. The show is a comedy and not scary at all. I highly recommend it as a feel-good series.
Back to the middle world, am I frightened or disgusted? Weirdly, not at all. While in ordinary reality time I can’t look at an eyelash in someone’s eye or hear or think of anything medically wrong. I don’t know why the non-ordinary time stuff doesn’t bother me for the life of me.
I did a lot of research on all the topics I discussed in this series. I found good and bad information. Some are legit services, and other money-making schemes are taking advantage of people and homeowners.
I am using my calling or house-clearing abilities how other people use their callings, such as ministries or missionariesāvolunteers working with the needy at homeless shelters or food pantries.
Volunteering or working as a health care worker or in EMS agencies. I know some people who make a difference working with the elderly or refugees. Others donate money or services for free. Those in need are in need, whether in human or dead form. A calling is helping others the best way you can with your gifts.
This last house clearing made me think about why I was chosen by the other side to be a medium in the middle world. Let’s face it; I have a tough guy; I’m going to kick your ass kind of attitude sometimes. I am patient, kind, understanding, and loving most of the time, but get my “Jersey” up, and it’s all over.
You cannot be a wimp or show any fear; at the same time, have empathy, sympathy, and compassion, which I have. You have to think quickly on your feet and find the right words to say. You aren’t permitted to ever lie to the being and have to come from a place of love and light. That’s why I think I was chosen.
I walked home from the actual in-person house clearing last week and was filled with humility and happiness for the souls that finally got to go home. I felt grateful to be able to help. My heart was full of love. I learned a lot from the “people” I met, some of which I liked.
Well, that’s it for this series of healing and psychic abilities. I know some of you were fascinated or frightened; others must digest or try to understand it. Some may think I’m whacked and it’s too much. I get it.
My goal here wasn’t to rant and rave about the spooky things I do but to explain and have an honest discussion about topics most people don’t know about.
I want you not to be afraid of other healing modalities or trying new things. To think of life in a different way. To notice passed loved ones’ energy around us and acknowledge it; they love when they know you feel them.
Thank you for reading this series and encouraging me to continue each week. It took a lot of courage for me to put all of this out there; Marty never knew half of what I did exactly. He told me some of it was scary, and it is for people. I would be scared for sure if it wasn’t me writing this.
Please email me at julziestyle@gmail.com if you have any questions or want to learn more about this series. I don’t teach any of my practices but can surely get you steered in the right direction.
Please remember, I don’t work with spirits or loved ones who have crossed over, meaning I don’t get messages for other people. I don’t know who to bet at the races or lottery numbers. Lol.
They have been waiting at the mud room door for the guys to come home for two days. I am clearly only their private chef. š
Have a great rest of your Sunday; I am looking forward to my family coming home later today, I missed them, but Klaus and Otto really did.Ā
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.
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.
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.
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.Ā
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.Ā
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.Ā
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! ā„ļø ~julz
Sam was making himself some instant oatmeal in the individual packages. I watched him pour milk into the empty bag.
āSam! What are you doing? What, you donāt want to wash a measuring cup?ā
Of course he got that shit eaten grin on his face and said, ā These packages were made to be measuring cups.ā What the hell?
After he poured the milk into his bowl of dry oatmeal he showed me the package. He said, āSee? I told you.ā That little smarty pants know it all.
Well, now I know and so do you. I still canāt believe this is a real thing.
He went on to tell me, people on the go donāt carry a measuring cup with them, especially if they are making the oatmeal in a convenience store, hotel lobby, or in his case the nursesā break room in the ER.
I donāt know where he gets his logical nature from, certainly not from me.
Iām 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 Guidesādigging 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!Ā
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.Ā
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 eyeāa 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.Ā 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.Ā
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. š¤£
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.Ā
*** 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 todayās Broadway shows. The cast members are excellent, and the sets are the same. Itās 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 werenāt 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. Itās a Bloody Mary on steroids! Spicy and delicious!
The Backstageās Bloody Mary is basically a liquid salad. You have potatoes from vodka, tomatoes, celery, horseradish, green beans, jalapeƱo peppers, gherkins, lime, cheese, and bacon.Ā
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!Ā 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.Ā
