Category Archives: Spirituality
Contact: Presence, A Short Story
Rachel Blackstone, the Reluctant Medium, is startled when a clock flies across the bathroom while brushing her teeth. Is it a message from the spirit world? She and best friend Chloe hold a transition ceremony and wait for further contact. But will it be peaceful or have they summoned another evil entity?
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Anasazi Medium: A Rachel Blackstone Paranormal Mystery is due out in January 2020.
(Copyright 2019 by G G Collins)
They ate in silence for a few minutes. It tasted like the best meal Rachel had ever eaten. Everything always tasted better, the sun looked brighter and the birds sang sweeter after a close call. She could feel the adrenaline losing its punch as she came down and began to feel tired.
“Where did the yellow water come from?” Chloe asked.
“No clue, but I’m going to find out. I got a sample on the way home.”
“Rachel, that’s great. What made you think of that?”
“Something’s very wrong,” Rachel said. “First the bird kills, the otherworldly appearance in my backyard, his prediction, the deaths of the university officials, and now being in the right place at the right time to rescue Anna. And there is the ever growing Dog Star.
“My understanding is the yellow water and fish kill is another sign of the impending end of the fourth world.”
They were thoughtful for a few minutes.
“Rachel, I wonder,” Chloe said. “Should we visit the Valles Caldera? Is there anything we could learn there?”
“I think there might be,” Rachel said thoughtfully. “The last time I was there I did an interview for the Longmire TV series coverage, back when they were filming the series in New Mexico. We ran several stories on that production. The Valles Caldera was used as Sheriff Longmire’s ranch location.”
“Quite a drive from the Las Vegas where they filmed the downtown and sheriff’s office scenes,” Chloe said.
“Yes, I know. I drove to both sets for the interviews and again to Madrid and the Mine Shaft Tavern that was used as the Red Pony bar.”
“I hated when that series ended,” Chloe said.
“Yup, me too. Seems like the good shows always end too soon.”
“And Supernatural is ending,” Chloe added. “Don’t know what we’ll do without Sam and Dean to guide us on these, uh, mystical excursions.”
“At least they got 15 years,” Rachel said. “Longmire only got six.”
Rachel changed the subject.
“You know, I’ve had those herb plants sitting on my back porch all summer. I think after what happened today, I’d like to do a little gardening.”
“You want help?” Chloe asked.
Rachel raised an eyebrow in question. She’d never seen Chloe plant any of her gardens.
“Well, I could ask my gardener if he would have time to plant it for you.”
“No, but thank you for the offer. I think I need to do something physical.”
“Okay,” Chloe said. “I’m going to check in at the office, see if anything critical is a foot and then go home to a hot bath and a glass of wine.”
“Do you think they will still grow?” Rachel asked.
“Sure, everything but the parsley will likely come back in the spring. Sometimes my parsley even overwinters,” Chloe said. “Of course, as you so generously pointed out I don’t cultivate my own so my gardener may have secrets to plant longevity that I don’t know.”
“I just can’t see anything else dead for awhile,” Rachel choked.
“I know,” Chloe said and hugged her friend. “Seeing those dead men will haunt us both for a long time. Go get your hands dirty and forget about today.
“I’ll let myself out.” Chloe was gone in a whirl of her long dark hair.
Chile Pod had finished her dinner and was glazing out the kitchen window at a bird picking at the remnants left on the ground from the feeder.
“You stay there. You can watch me plant the herb bed.” Rachel grabbed a jacket off the hook near the door and went into the evening air.
She’d bought the herb plants in spring and somehow she never got around to planting them, but somehow remembered to douse them with water several times a week. There just never seemed to be a good time. Now the leggy plants were root bound. Rachel hoped she could save them.
During the spring she had bricks delivered. In a fit of energy, she had turned the soil, laid the bricks in a 6-foot square and mulched it. In the meantime, deadlines came and went. Time passed without planting the herbs.
Because she had mulched the garden all she had to do was push the organic matter away, dig a hole and add the plants. First, Rachel took a knife and cut the roots back as she remembered her father doing when she was a kid. It would help the roots grow in a more normal way. She planted lavender and then added rosemary, thyme, oregano and fennel.
With that done, Rachel picked up the bucket against her house and brought it to the garden. Inside were an assortment of stones and crystals she had collected for the past several years. She placed each among the herbs; a river stone here, a quartz there and a lovely piece of petrified wood.
When it was all watered in, Rachel went inside the house and came back with several gazing balls in purple, blue and red crackled colors. In the center of the herb bed she placed a stand and added the larger purple gazing ball. She positioned the smaller ones on the ground and stood back to survey her handiwork.
Satisfied and feeling better, she headed back inside. Before she reached the safety of the backdoor, a wolf howled. Rachel was now recognizing the various warnings that Kiyiya made to alert her. This howl was an announcement, not an urgent warning.
Rachel stopped immediately, her pulse quickened and her breath turned to fog as the temperature dropped. Once again, the rattling sound commenced, the vapors seemingly came from nowhere and formed into a column. She had no idea who or what to expect. Would it be the Native American she met most recently or someone or something altogether different?
Within a couple of minutes, it was the Native who stepped from the fog. Rachel braced herself and waited.
Again, he spoke in a language she didn’t understand, but the words appeared in her mind in English.
“The blue star grows in the sky,” he pointed.
“I know,” Rachel replied. “What I don’t know is who or what is causing it?”
“The evil men.”
“Who are the evil men? What are they doing to cause the star to grow?” Rachel asked.
“I do not know them,” he said. “They are of this time. Not of mine.”
“Do you know what they are doing that is wrong?”
“Taking from our land.”
This wasn’t going well. There was a lot of time and space between them. Rachel didn’t know if she could span the centuries. She tried to keep her words simple to enhance his comprehension.
“I’ve been looking for these men, but haven’t found them. I’ve looked to see where…where work is being done. I’ve checked for mining and drilling permits.”
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“I’m sorry. It’s when men remove earth by digging into the ground.” He nodded with some understanding.
“I’ve been trying to uncover what these men are doing along with two friends who are helping me. And I think that two men were killed who may have known what I need to know.”
The man was silent for several minutes. Rachel thought he was about to disappear leaving her in more confusion.
“Do your powers take you to the Land of the Dead?” he asked.
That took her off guard.
“I…I” she stammered. “I don’t know.”
“You must talk with the Skeleton Man.”
“How can I do that? I don’t know how.” Rachel asked.
“You have friends in spirit?” he said as though having inside knowledge.
“Uh, yes.” As far as Rachel knew that would be one spirit. The Hopi shaman, Joseph, who had helped her before.
“You should talk with spirit,” the Native said. “Time grows…” He searched for the word. “Short. Everyone will die.”
“I understand, but I don’t know what to do,” Rachel felt panic seeping into her soul.
“You must talk with the Skeleton Man.” He faded from her view in a whiff of smoke.
Read the entire series: Click on the book.
There’s Nothing Quite Like a Horse
by G G Collins (Copyright 2017)
I remember: the musky odor of horses, the saddle soap, creaking leather and hooves settling comfortably in straw. I loved my horses, especially one special grey gelding. He was reincarnated as Pepper in my recently released book for teens, Flying Change. My pets frequently appear in my books. Sometimes their names change, sometimes not.
Girls who love horses almost have an extra growth period in their lives. It’s wedged between being a toddler and discovering boys. We read everything we can get our hands on that tells us how to care for and train horses. Every minute away from school was spent in the stable mucking out stalls, grooming and riding. Riding almost came last because it was more a reward for all the work we did to make our best friend comfortable and healthy.
Horses are the most wonderful creatures. They go beyond beautiful, graceful and playful. They listen without judgment; their elegant necks soak up our tears and their soft lips lap at our fingers seeking out treats. They are a pure presence in girls’ lives. We’re always young girls around horses.
When he was born, I was nine years old. I got up early and ran out to meet him. He came right up to me, but his mother had other ideas and shooed him away. That didn’t last long. This little guy loved the body brush. As a colt he would lean toward me as I brushed his neck until he almost fell over!
I began placing a saddle blanket on his back when he was about a year old. Slowing, as he grew, I added a saddle. Later on, I’d cinch it lightly. There was plenty of time back then. Finally, the day for the bridle came. He mouthed the bit and accepted it. He didn’t have any of the temper his mother had, although he did buck me off once. I don’t know why.
Some of us stay horsey our whole lives, even if we don’t have the privilege of a companion horse. The day he died, a little bit of me died too, along with my childhood dreams of becoming a great equestrian. He was buried in the field where he fell. Another family lives there now and they have horses so his spirit isn’t lonely.
If there were ever a moment in time I could revisit, it would be an afternoon with my horses.
Ghost Story Based on Real Events
Presence: A Rachel Blackstone Paranormal Mystery Short Story by G G Collins
“If you receive a sign it will be something quite unusual.”
Sometimes it doesn’t pay to brush your teeth. Not when you’re Rachel Blackstone, the Reluctant Medium. She can’t explain why a simple clock on her bathroom shelf flew across the room. The death of a friend weighs more heavily. Her friend Chloe, into all things New Age, once told her about a transition blessing for the dead. Although Rachel wants to do it, she is gun-shy about attempting another ritual after the disaster she created the first time. Chloe convinces her it will be okay and offers a Hopi prayer. But when another unexplained event occurs, Rachel is afraid they may have unwittingly invited another evil entity into their lives. Were they foolhardy to attempt communication with the afterlife or will the new spirit reach out in a way Rachel understands?
Only $0.99 on Amazon.
Kindle Short Reads, 30 minutes (12-21 pages), Literature & Fiction, Ghosts
🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 Believe it or not.
Rachel and Chloe have done it again!
This is a wonderful tribute to those we love who have passed. To others, try it and you will most likely have a memory that will always stay with you.
Thanks Tonya for blessing Rachel’s life. Thanks GG for sharing your blessing.
Reviewed by Mojo. Thank you!
The Story of the Spirit Wolf
Excerpt from “Atomic Medium,” a Rachel Blackstone Paranormal Mystery
by G G Collins (Copyright 2016)
Rachel Blackstone, the Reluctant Medium, counsels with her friend former priest Eddy O’Brien. He advises her to walk a labyrinth to gain insight to her predicament. While doing so she sees the dead shaman Joseph and learns the story of her spirit wolf, Kiyiya. We pick up where Eddy encourages her to walk.
“The labyrinth will guide you. I’m going to wait here in the car. If anyone comes, I’ll delay them so you can complete your walk. It is your journey.”
“Should I ask a question?” Rachel asked, stalling. “Something specific?”
“Just walk and see what happens?” Eddy said.
Rachel nodded. At first she looked down at the heavily trod path edged in stones. The ground was hard and dry beneath her mocs. She was grateful for their thick lug soles. The red sun was sinking deeper into the cosmos. The sunset colors played across the labyrinth mixing with the dust in the air. She thought it must be what star dust looked like; fine particles in magic shades drifting through space. The shadows of nearby piñon crossed her path here and there, moving as she did. As she strolled the first circuit she was aware of not really wanting to do it, but as she moved deeper into the labyrinth she became more engrossed.
Like yoga, she found as her concentration increased, the distressing concerns of her day faded away. Rachel had heard of walking meditation and attempted to do that. There had to be some presence in the moment or she might stray from the path, but yet she needed to allow her mind to quiet.
As she finished each track a little more of the environmental noise dropped away: traffic, construction, all man made sounds. She was no longer aware of the rustling leaves or chirping birds. Rachel closed her eyes. For a moment she felt as if she floated among the enchanted airborne particles.
But as the quiet settled, another noise began to intrude. It was familiar. Just she had experienced in her living room months ago when she performed the ceremony to return the dead, she picked up on some subtle crackling almost as if the air overflowed with electricity. Yet she felt no evidence of it. Rachel held her ground and closed her eyes. There was a faint rattling.
“Oh no,” she whispered and opened her eyes, fearing what she would see.
In the gathering dusk, fog seemed to flow from all directions, despite the persistent dry air. She hurried.
“Should I get the hell out of here?” she muttered to herself.
By the time she reached the center, the vapor was meeting and began spiraling upward, each strand wrapping around what appeared to be an empty center, but it created a perfect human-shaped mist.
It’s happening again. And she was afraid. She closed her eyes once again and fought down the panic. Grappling for control so she wouldn’t run, she tried to prepare herself for anything. Would there be another Nazi to manage? Or was she dealing with another evil entity?
Calm down. Take a deep breath. Rachel tried to do this simple breath, but with her fight or flight instincts all amassed and at ready, she could hardly inhale.
Open your eyes. Slowly, looking down first, she glimpsed a pair of bare feet. Having expected something military in nature, this confused her. When she raised her line of vision, there was Joseph standing before her, smiling with some amusement. His skin was brown from decades in the sun and his eyes laced with lines from squinting. He was a slight man, but a giant spiritually. Rachel could see aura glowing around him. Usually he wore the white aura of a spiritual guide, but today he it was the purest of blue which she knew to represent harmony and great understanding of people and other creatures.
While he never spoke aloud, he was telling her a story. At first, she didn’t get it, but then it became clear he was talking about her spirit wolf, Kiyiya. The white wolf had been different all his life. Although his parents had been alphas in his family pack, and therefore he was deserving of respect, he had been aware that others judged him as unusual.
One day while drinking at a stream he took a moment to look at his reflection. He felt both exhilaration and shame at his differentness. He wanted to be like the other wolves. Troubled, he asked his mother why his fur was white as snow. She recognized his need for reassurance and told him white wolves were destined for greatness in the spirit world. Someday, he would understand why he had been created this way.
For several years, he lived with his pack, hunted with them, played with his siblings and howled into the night. It was a good life, but something seemed to be missing. On a particularly cold, crisp winter day, he arose early and strode up the rocks in search of food. Just as he was about to catch a rabbit he felt a sharp pain in his chest.
The falling was more frightening than painful, but as he continued to fall his rate of descent slowed and the terrain changed from mountainous to cloudy and then to night. He slowly righted himself as if he were a cat and landed on his feet in a place he didn’t know. A woman stood outside of a car in the middle of a big road. Confronted by a ghostly figure, she was alarmed. Instinctively, he knew she must be protected. His presence frightened the spirit away but also the woman. When he showed her no aggression she returned to her car to continue her way. Somehow he knew her journey was important.
In his new world he would shield others as well, but this woman was to be sheltered at all times. As he grew in the wisdom given by the Great Spirit, he learned ways of helping her when she was confused. His body could glow when light was needed. His shadow could change in size and shape. When he howled she knew that danger was near. She had much to learn, but he felt she had vital work to do.
And so he came to understand what his mother had told him. He was destined for greatness and he would do his very best to make her proud.
Rachel became cognizant of where she was and the tears streaming down her face. She began to sag but strong arms caught her.
Let me help you. Joseph found this way into her mind again. She felt sleepy and foggy and tried to shake it off.
“But what about the threshold?” Rachel said aloud. “Should I cross it?”
You will receive a message from the other side. It will come from an unlikely source. Be open to it. It will be true.
He was gone.
Rachel stepped over the stones and sat on a nearby bench. She was exhausted, drained. After resting for a few minutes, she returned to the parking lot where Eddy waited.
“Did you get what you needed?” he asked. “Was there an answer?”
“Yes,” she said. “It wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but it was something I wanted to know.” She described meeting Joseph and what he said.
“That’s the way labyrinths work,” Eddy said. “In mysterious ways they channel knowledge we need.”
“I’m so tired.”
“You had a spiritual experience,” Eddy replied. “You have arrived.”
All the Rachel Blackstone Paranormal Mysteries are available at Amazon. Thank you for reading.
Not What We’ve Come to Expect
By G G Collins (Copyright 2016)
If you’re expecting a real spiritual journey like MacLaine’s exceptional books Out on a Limb or The Camino; Above the Line: My Wild Oats Adventure will be a disappointment. But if you’re interested in the behind the scenes on a film set, it might be appealing. Sadly, the back-biting, broken promises and how special actors are wasn’t what I was interested in.
I bought it with the promise of insight into Atlantis and an exploration of the Canary Islands. Neither really happened. In fairness, MacLaine is in her 80s and probably isn’t the fearless explorer she once was. No shame in that. We’re all lucky if we make it to the Third Age. Had this book been represented honestly by the publisher as a memoir from a movie set—I would have passed.
What I really wanted was more connection to Atlantis on the Canary Islands. Some believe that Atlantis existed where the Greek island of Santorini is now, so perhaps it was just the wrong location for the wisdom I was looking for.
If only the last portion about her injury and subsequent treatment had been left out: Thud! What did it have to do with the movie shoot? It’s a whole other story. And memories of life on Atlantis are suddenly pouring forth? I would have enjoyed reading these intermixed with revelations on the Canary Islands.
MacLaine has a lot to offer and I hope her next book is more astute and less aggrandizing.
Atria Books, 2016
Whatever Holiday You Celebrate, May It Be A Happy One!
This time of year is rich with holidays. It doesn’t matter whether you light a menorah for the eight days of Hanukkah, celebrate the ancient African harvest festival called Kwanzaa, fast and donate to charity during Ramadan, dress up and sing on St. Lucia Day, throw firecrackers at the dragon for Chinese New Year or give gifts and go caroling for Christmas, what matters is that you’re with those you love.
Wishing you Happy Holidays!
We All Have It: Stress!
by G G Collins (Copyright 2015)
Leave it to a friend to come up with something so lovely. I received–just in time to charge in the Super Blood Moon–a medicine bag and crystals from my friend M J Trantham. You’ll remember her from the interview she did earlier Interview with M J Trantham in January.
To make your own Anti-Stress Medicine Bag, you need a pouch or bag. Four crystals are added: Amethyst, Malachite, Orange Calcite and Sodalite. In addition, a tablespoon of dried lavender. (There have been some toxic warnings regarding Malachite, so please wash your hands after handling and limit contact.)
Before you put it together, you’ll need to charge the crystals in a full moon. Place them in a small container. I like a small cup or bowl that is clear. Then set it in a window or in a safe location outside for a night during the full moon.
If you haven’t read Dorothy Morrison’s book “Everyday Magic: Spells & Rituals for Modern Living,” here’s a short excerpt to help you prepare your anti-stress bag:
Place the lavender inside, as you say: Lavender for great protection.
Add the sodalite, saying: Sodalite for psychic connection.
Add the malachite, saying: Malachite to bud and sprout.
Add the amethyst saying: Amethyst to calm throughout.
Add the orange calcite, saying: And orange calcite to amplify.
Their power mix and unify to relieve stress and aggravation, racing heart and irritation.
Bring me peace and calm relief.
Then carry the pouch with you. Morrison calls her spells and rituals “modern magic for busy folks.” It covers many modern issues from abuse to money to wisdom. Just click on the book for more information.
If you don’t have a peace symbol you can attach to the bag, use a marker to draw one on the pouch.
After your bag is complete, why not make one for a friend?
Woodland Park Fine Arts & Crafts Fair 6/5-9/25
Medicine Bags by M J Trantham
Beginning June 5, 2015, the Woodland Park Fine Arts & Crafts Fair returns. Here, the artists are also the sellers. You can buy their creations, meet the artist and ask questions about their creative process. This year, M J Trantham will be selling her beautiful hand-made medicine bags. Trantham also plans to have crystals and fact sheets for sale. Drop by and say hello. Trantham will be happy to tell you what inspires her to make medicine bags. I can tell you, they are special, whether you fill them with crystals or a special small gift. Some of her latest creations are made for men and children.
In her own words, “I like to decorate them with ribbon, buttons, pins, and charms. The type of bag and decoration depends on who the bag is made for. I have a friend who is very interested in angels. I made her a bag with stones to attract angel communication. A family member travels a lot in an RV. I made them a bag for safe travel.”
If you missed Trantham’s interview in these pages, please check it out at the following link: https://reluctantmediumatlarge.wordpress.com/?s=m+j+trantham
You can find the Woodland Park Fine Arts & Crafts Fair at N Park Street & W Henrietta Ave (Next to the Farmers Market). For more information call 719-687-3731. It’s free to the public and family friendly. The Fair runs through September 25, 2015. Friday’s, 7am – 1pm.
For more information on the hand-made Medicine Bags or to place an order, please contact M J Trantham at: email@example.com
Tags: arts & crafts, Buy Medicine Bags, Colorado, crocheted medicine bags, crystals, Hand-made medicine bags, healing, M J Trantham, Medicine Bags, metaphysical, Religion and Spirituality, Woodland Park, Woodland Park Fine Arts & Crafts Fair, WordPress.blog
The Last Time by G G Collins
How many last times have you experienced? What year did you last believe in Santa Claus? How old were you the last time you played with dolls? When was the last time you said “See you later” to a friend and you never saw her again? This happened to me. . .
To read the rest of the post: http://www.gildaevans.com/the-last-time-by-g-g-collins
Enjoy Gilda’s other posts on Girl Talk which range from relationships to writing. There is something wise and wonderful for everyone. Gilda likes to say, “I have a PhD in relationships from the school of life!” She’s also a 3-time Emmy award winner and a motivational speaker.Gilda writes the Girl Talk Book Series.