It's been a weird 3 or 4 months, lots of confusion, depression, elation, sorrow, consummate moments, clarity, an energy version of a nervous breakdown if you want to know the truth...you know, real life for anyone who is moderately awake in these days of change and, dare i say it, tribulation.

I kept hearing a call to give up my psychic work and concentrate on my writing. Except for when I heard a call to give up my writing and concentrate on my psychic work. And in between was the total joy I get from my tea reviews. Also in between were these intense periods where I could feel more veils being lifted from our collective eyes and ears. At least for those who were willing to see and hear. Of course, the time is coming where nobody will have a choice, but as Alton Brown would say, that's another show.

So, it seems that it has become time for me to stop drawing lines between the parts of my life. I guess "psychic" isn't really that different from "writer." I can't explain that, any more than I can explain how my increasing pull to compose music is also part of the picture. I'd even like to paint, even though I've never had an artistic bone in my body. But, I don't have the set up for painting, and I do for the music. And I've only wanted to be a musician all of my conscious life.

But back to the psychic/writing thing. I guess it never occurred to me that those veils I could feel lifting weren't merely horizontal, but vertical as well. Not merely external, but also internal. And probably all kinds of odd shapes that would only make sense to Buckminster Fuller. Actually, I imagine he would find them delightful.

The moral of this story is, if you're noticing changes and a gathering of energies in the sensibilities around you, start looking for them in your own mind and life, because they are undoubtedly there. Just because you don't want to see them doesn't make them not real.

Right now, that's my warning and Universe's gift.