Astral travel is an interesting phenomenon that can occur within almost any relaxed state of consciousness such as dreams, hypnosis, acupuncture, and meditation. There is the potential to visit many far-off places, including the astral plane and mystery schools, where you can learn numerous things. Returning to the body, however, is important, as it is entirely possible to have a variety of experiences and leave soul fragments in various lands and levels. While I know of people who can recover soul fragments, generally you want to be complete for physical health and optimal mental functioning; and one thing that really helps with this is setting the intention to return and putting out a request to your guardian angels and guides for protection and safety.

I find it is important to have enough things you love and care about to return to, so that you have a balance of ethereal wonder and real-life action. It really is spectacular transitioning from one to the other and feeling whole, complete and balanced. Sometimes you can take bits and pieces of knowledge and wisdom with you into the waking world, such as dream fragments, but it is never the whole experience. After all, part of what it means to be human is foregoing absolute certainty for the chance to learn and make mistakes. From the experience of daring and doing, erring and improving, we learn so much more.

You could say being human is a prized learning experience for the soul.

Of all the other places you could incarnate—and there are many—this one uniquely offers pain and emotion, karma and reincarnation, limitation and forgetting. So ironically, trying to be complete or logically rigorous often limits you to a smaller picture.

It is the acceptance of a limited perspective that opens vistas and shows you all you can know in this moment.

I was told, “The logical mind is not what takes you to the lap of God,” but it was only when I began to relinquish my own expectations about how things should work, that my readings began to change. Where I would be confined to a single card and studiously examine picture and word for information, I would miss the overall flow of the spread, and the intuitive knowing that would come once I allowed myself to see it.

Another thing I noticed with oracle card readings is that the timeline can vary anywhere from 3–6 months on average. This has to do with there being no concept of time in the spirit realm. Time and space, like free will and choice, are also unique to the earth plane.

So in striving for everything that seems best, we often miss out on the opportunity right in front of us.

It is a matter of context.

How many lives have you lived in other places? In other dimensions? What you will find is when you can fully embrace it, this life is exactly what you need it to be, in every way. For soul learning, for variety, for balance. Sometimes the things you want most are things you have done before, sometimes not yet.

There is time. 😉





Walking through a mirrored maze of eternal sight, hands trembling, hurricane twirling, the eye of which in constant motion, casts aspersions toward infinity.
If but on a journey wild, thrice choose thine earnest heart through shadows cast upon the light.
My truth in your hand, trembles; control not the honest urge to be true.
In timeless beauty, a rainbow etched, upon the sky doth sketch beautiful, wild traces of your heart.
A moment and forever, eternity and now, live, ever, ever.
Through wild outreaches of flowing river, weave a tale of endless wonder.
Heart, soul and forever.
Twice thwarted; thrice stand, upon the beautiful foundation of your everlasting glory. Words I didn’t know within, drawn from a hand without.
Metric ever, and flowers blooming, grow for me a tree of straight and curly.
Stifled no longer, be the balance in-between void of light and wonder.
As ever, live this moment as if were last, but know forever.
Lines and stanzas, mere extensions of divine allegory in your beating heart.
Pen, your honest symphony.



“You and I don’t meet, in this timeline.” She is unusually cold, but so is the sterile blue maze we are in.

Did I do something wrong?

There are only so many paths to completion, and unless one is a guru or has bird’s eye vision, the end of any one beginning is a mystery. It’s not like you can work backwards—that would be cheating. So it becomes about having the guts to step where answers are not.

She steps away from the path she represents, to my right, and comes halfway to me. “You know what to do.”

Master the skill.

I’ve always wandered without looking, thinking it was better to be on a “predestined” path than to make alterations that might lead to ruin, or worse. But just because you don’t choose something, knowingly, doesn’t mean you haven’t chosen it implicitly—wearing a blindfold just means you don’t see the choices before you.

In front of me is a simple, straight hallway, and once, I would have taken its apparent simplicity without question. After all, everyone wants an easy path without unnecessary trouble, if they can help it. But now I look deeper, and see that ahead lies a fork.

“Do you want this enough?” Me.

Each option is equal, except for the people who stand before them, and to my left I see a friend of mine.

“Time in time through time; meet me in my time.” Her words are jocularly cryptic and playfully earnest.

“Do I have to choose between the two of you?”

She looks over her shoulder at the path behind her: what little of it I can see is complex and meandering, with twists and turns everywhere—and that’s just the beginning.

“You were so sad together.” Her face is sad, too, as she says this. It’s as if she knows how little we had together, and how we clung to everything but the space in between.

I look at her. “He is safety and security, comfort and familiarity; everything I want.”

“Really?” she asks evenly, and a flash of dark, personal feeling crosses her face for a second. “Then go to him. See if it is.”

You can’t have everything.

He is standing next to a playground in the inner city and I stride closer.

Unlike with her, I never know how to begin the interaction. We are both always waiting—waiting for the other to offer something we don’t have. It’s not like we lack it, just that it cannot be summoned on command.

Love isn’t always illuminating, and I guess neither of us was ever sure. “Nice weather,” I finally say, of the autumn leaves blowing in the wind.

“I don’t have what you need.” He looks emotionless and I know my feelings don’t show either.

I am not the one.

“I can’t give you what she can.” Swirling wind and a heart that bleeds love with every beat.

“I am not brave, not like you. You would have to give everything up.” Lose what you have worked for.

“I don’t need much. We both—what we want is simple. If you would just try…”

He frowns. “I cannot be there with you, in those moments; I can’t hold back the dark.”

“I can do it myself,” I say truthfully. This is how it feels, always: together, but alone. Similar, and complimentary…but not enough.

He shakes his head. “You are strong. But what is coming”—the wind picks up, and leaves fly at us—”even you will want a human connection.”

“I wish it could be you; everything would be so much easier.”

“I’m not your equal,” he says firmly. I’m not her.

“Are you asking me to let you go?”

He grabs my hands now, something he never does. “Don’t let me go—keep me in your back pocket. A backup option you can use if it doesn’t work out.”

“I’m selfish,” he goes on. “But even I know better.”

“We could hide,” I say stubbornly. “Sometimes that’s all I want.”

“You don’t,” he chastens softly. “More importantly, the world doesn’t.”

It is a time of truth.

I sigh. “If it hadn’t happened this way…You are a fit for me, in many ways. I feel comfortable with you—is that so wrong?”

“Challenge makes you grow,” he says, with uncharacteristic certainty. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll come.” I pin a set of flight wings to his chest.

“Whenever you call.”