Saturday, March 12, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
For the past six years, since 2004, I’ve been reading stories about angels – thousands of stories from real people from around the world who’ve had a direct, personal encounter with the Divine: People just like you.
I’ve read stories about terminal illnesses that were instantly healed; disembodied voices shouting life-saving commands; mysterious nurses who appear beside hospital beds in the middle of the night to offer comfort; doctors who materialize at accident scenes to speak life saving advice before EMTs arrive and then disappear without a trace.
I’ve read stories about lost heirloom jewelry—watches, wedding rings, diamonds—suddenly found. I’ve read about children led home by gentle strangers no one’s seen before (or since); about flocks of butterflies returning day after day to comfort the grieving; of birds that visit the lonely, the frightened, the seriously ill—bringing the courage and hope they need to survive.
I have always believed in angels, people often begin or, I’ve never been sure about angels… but I am now!
I know just what they mean. Though I’ve worked with spiritual materials for 25 years – as a spiritual counselor, writer, and teacher—though I’ve experienced many things that couldn’t be explained as mere coincidence I simply wasn’t prepared for the way that reading these stories would change my life.
You see, I didn’t believe in angels. To me, the winged and haloed messengers were mythological the stuff of myth—they were metaphors, I thought, an attempt for human beings to explain their interactions with something they couldn’t quantify, see or understand any other way.
There’s a well-worn phrase, beloved by storytellers and magazine editors that perfectly sums up my state of mind when this project began: Little did she know.
For little did I know, as I began to read, that these stories would deliver—drop by precious drop – an infusion of grace straight to my heart.
Sea of Miracles is a book about my journey and yours. It's a book about angels - but more than that, it's about finding the spirit that lives in the simple things - work, family, marriage, traffic jams - and all the spaces in between. And through these things, deepening your everyday connection to the Divine.Ordering
There are so many ways to read and enjoy a book these days - and we are delighted to offer Sea of Miracles in the following ways: (Simply click on the option you prefer)
To read it today, download the Ebook - a fully-formatted full length book that you can read on your Kindle, Ipad, PC or Mac!
- Best Price/pre-release package $25 - Purchase Sea of Miracles as an Ebook, with the option to pre-order a copy of the paperback edition for a reduced price.
- Ebook $12 - Instantly delivered by email, a beautiful (just like a book) PDF file, readable on Mac, PC, IPad and, so I'm told, Kindle and IPhone.
Whatever option you choose, I am so grateful for your interest in my work.
Big, huge gratitude hugs!
Friday, February 4, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
I love that this post originally came up authored by Mmangen. (It wasn't - and we fixed it.)
I love that it was January 20th when I wrote my January 19th post.
These things remind me that right now, I am practicing UnPerfecting myself.
(And just so you know, this is not a misspelling or misunderstanding of the word imperfection. They are close cousins, these words, but they are not the same thing.)
UnPerfecting is a process - a day by day, step by step peeling away of the layers of mind chatter, ego BS, noise and junk that goes on in the mind in order to keep us from seeing how already perfect we are. Click here to read the rest...
At the Diner:
At the diner, i close my eyes to bring mindfulness to my food and I find that I am thinking, instead, about the man at the next table. He is facing me, staring either at me, or over my shoulder. I wonder if he is watching me, judging me or the way that I eat, or whether he is judging the food items I’ve selected. Click here to read the rest...
We are all so lonely
This morning, I woke up with these words in my head and aching through my heart: I feel so alone.
But I don’t feel alone, I thought. So what does this message mean – and who is it for?
Mom? Dad? My husband, still asleep?
One of my children?
I got up and shook it off with a vague sense of guilt, as if I were letting someone down. Was there someone to whom I was meant to deliver this message?
A few hours later, I was sitting here – working on the last chapter of my book, a bear of a thing – a manifesto about choice and suffering and prayer – when I understood that early morning message.
I know who called.
You. Me – and everyone we know.
In fact, the whole world is calling.
We all feel so alone. Click here to read the rest...