<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992</id><updated>2011-04-21T22:22:27.548-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Crystal Indigo</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-116136720765373664</id><published>2006-10-20T13:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-20T14:00:07.663-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Artwork Explained</title><content type='html'>She brings artwork to me, a watercolor swirl of twisting lines in blues and purples, very chaotic looking. Of course I hold it upside-down, and with a disgusted sigh, she corrects the error.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"These are all the souls helping each other so they can become human again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where did the souls come from? People that died?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, and now they have to help each other before they go back to being human, or, or, animals, or, you know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And is this Earth? this green spot here?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's all Earth. This is just the spot where the souls are."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What's this person here?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This person is an angel, trying to help the souls who died to become something again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But the angel's standing on the Earth.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mmmhmmm."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah. Angels standing on the Earth is unremarkable.  Of course. Anyone could know that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-116136720765373664?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/116136720765373664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/116136720765373664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2006/10/artwork-explained.html' title='Artwork Explained'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-115568890810580882</id><published>2006-08-06T16:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T20:41:48.113-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Strange Visit</title><content type='html'>This morning, he got the call. He did not want to come with us to Philadelphia, because he felt he would be poor company. I convinced him that it was not his responsibility to protect us from his less pleasant moods, and coaxed him into being with his family instead of moping at home. No one wanted that for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we tell the news to the children, it is the main topic of conversation in the car. We fall into silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Into that silence, I am bespoken. I hear, argue, and then start to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What? Honey, don't...it looks like you need these tissues more than I do!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; He... he wants you to have his clothes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; He says he hopes nobody's mad at him, but he just couldn't do it anymore. It feels like he's sorry. And he's showing me this drawer of folded shirts. They're really soft. He wants you to have his clothes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was very insistant that I should tell the family that he was sorry, and hoped nobody would be mad at him. I told him that I didn't think they were ready. He sort of shrugged and I heard 'you know best' in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I don't know if I know best, but I don't think my in-laws were ready, on the day of his death, to hear a message from him, especially not from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I wasn't ready.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-115568890810580882?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/115568890810580882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/115568890810580882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2006/08/strange-visit.html' title='Strange Visit'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-115568823755183611</id><published>2006-07-15T20:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T20:30:37.560-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Advice</title><content type='html'>"The angels say that Papa needs at least to call his father to tell him he loves him and that he's sorry to see him go. Let him know that even though he left when he was a baby, that he still loves him a lot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personal pronoun confusion aside, it's a sweetness in verbal format. Her father's response?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I guess I do need to talk to him. Because of him, I have a child who can say a thing like that."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-115568823755183611?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/115568823755183611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/115568823755183611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2006/07/good-advice.html' title='Good Advice'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-114493642104018517</id><published>2006-04-13T09:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-13T09:53:41.056-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Today's Message</title><content type='html'>"This is a message from the angels. The angels say that if you are nice to the whole world, you will become more nicer, and when you die, you will have more and more lifes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will ask her to explain later. Or maybe I don't have to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-114493642104018517?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/114493642104018517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/114493642104018517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2006/04/todays-message.html' title='Today&apos;s Message'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-111835764306198362</id><published>2005-06-09T18:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-06-09T18:54:03.066-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Heart Strings</title><content type='html'>She tells me about the strings she sees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Strings, baby?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, strings that tie families together, and people who love each other. It's what keeps you close to your family, because it goes from your heart to their hearts. You mustn't break the strings, because they keep people together."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think of Orson Scott Card's 'philotes' from &lt;strong&gt;Xenocide&lt;/strong&gt; and know that the thing she sees are no less real for the fact that I cannot see them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-111835764306198362?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/111835764306198362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/111835764306198362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2005/06/heart-strings.html' title='Heart Strings'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-111722457415439870</id><published>2005-05-27T16:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-05-27T16:09:34.160-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Resident Cherubim</title><content type='html'>"Do you need an angel, Mama?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm not sure, baby. Do I look like I need an angel?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She nods. "You look tired." She tilts her head: "What?" and listens. She turns back to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The angels say you need a nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do they. Well, I guess I should have one, then.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, as I kiss Garrett goodnight, "Don't stay up too late watching teevee, Mama. You have a big day tomorrow."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angels all over my house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-111722457415439870?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/111722457415439870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/111722457415439870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2005/05/resident-cherubim.html' title='Resident Cherubim'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-111134577044575071</id><published>2005-03-20T13:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-03-20T14:09:30.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Conversations</title><content type='html'>Saturday, 19 March, 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alaina:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mama, try talking to the angels."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Any one in particular? What should I say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waving of a small, imperious hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whatever you like."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I close my eyes and concetrate. I've been tense and snippy, so when I sense Presence, I mentally ask for patience, strength, energy. The usual. I ask for a good mood. I ask if there is any message for Alaina. (Tell her thank you.) For what? (She'll know.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;They say to tell you thank you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For what?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shrug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;They said you'd know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She frowns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Why don't you ask them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She closes here eyes, concentrates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh," she says, laughing a little. "They said they were thanking me for teaching you to talk to them."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-111134577044575071?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/111134577044575071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/111134577044575071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2005/03/three-conversations.html' title='Three Conversations'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-110954950716452681</id><published>2005-02-27T18:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-27T19:11:47.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wonder World</title><content type='html'>She paints a picture with fingerpaints, then tells me the story. On the back of the picture, I write in tiny pale letters, hoping to not spoil the front of the image.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Will you tell me about this?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alaina:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;These three hearts in the sky are three love planets. The angels live on the highest one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a rainbow to tell everyone to go outside and go to one of the love planets or else they will die on Earth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a child named Aimah, under the rainbow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the cloud of destruction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun is another sign from the angels to warn the people of Earth that the cloud of destruction is coming, and if the people come to one of the love planets, when the Earth gets destroyed, the angels will make it again.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Is this a story the angels told you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;No, I made this one up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-110954950716452681?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/110954950716452681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/110954950716452681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2005/02/wonder-world.html' title='Wonder World'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-110896379501948234</id><published>2005-02-21T00:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-02-24T00:02:07.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Grasping Wisdom</title><content type='html'>16 November&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alaina:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Mama, I found your soul's soul. It's come to ask you if you know how baby souls are made.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Not really. You keep trying to explain, and one of these days I will get it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Your soul has hearts. The hearts fall down. The souls used to be hearts. They are actually hearts that are souls.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The hearts have turned into souls?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Yes. And once the souls fall down...&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Fall down from where?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;From your back. And the hearts of your souls become bigger and bigger until they're actually little souls. If you didn't have the souls fall down out of your back, we would have to live and live for the rest of our lives if the souls did not fall down. &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;When the souls fall down, we don't have to live and live for the rest of our lives?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;No, we have to be murdered or just die and live in the graveyard and just rest in our bodies and not have to work or go to heaven and see the rest of our dead loved ones that died. And the only way you can sleep is to go into your own body and sleep.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;But my soul's soul fell out of my back and I'm still alive?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Because it keeps on going and going until you get old, old enough to be ready to go away.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Go away where?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;To the dead. And if you're not murdered, your soul can go in your body. If the soul goes in your not murdered body then you can live again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's the end of my story.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Is it a true story?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Yes. The angels told me.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-110896379501948234?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/110896379501948234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/110896379501948234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2005/02/grasping-wisdom.html' title='Grasping Wisdom'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-110292338096650818</id><published>2004-12-13T02:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-12-13T02:36:20.966-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Ready</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;22 October 2004&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister lies prone, in pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Tell Aunt Cory about her angels.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter looks at me askance. Rolling her eyes a bit, she begins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alaina:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;They are rainbow and blue sparkley. Their names are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vaspat&lt;br /&gt;Veena&lt;br /&gt;Stoneclear&lt;br /&gt;Vinu&lt;br /&gt;Umah&lt;br /&gt;Bigah&lt;br /&gt;Fondah&lt;br /&gt;Bearkind&lt;br /&gt;Mika Po&lt;br /&gt;Mesanah&lt;br /&gt;Meelah&lt;br /&gt;Masomatina&lt;br /&gt;Maforda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mazu.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister looks at me askance. Having professed an interest in things otherworldy does not relieve her of skeptecism. Apparently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask her the next day about the names of angels. We are alone, so she responds with good humor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alaina:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;They always change their names every single second. Right now, they are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aveena&lt;br /&gt;Heartbeat&lt;br /&gt;Flower&lt;br /&gt;Heartlove Sparkle&lt;br /&gt;Sparkle Tangerine&lt;br /&gt;Meevone&lt;br /&gt;Smahnah&lt;br /&gt;Sugan&lt;br /&gt;Lovebeat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one that's right here (she points above her crown chakrah) never changes its name. It's called Heartlove Sparkle.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Julia says that you can teach me to see angels, too. Do you think you can?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alaina:&lt;br /&gt;Sure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;So will you tell me when one is near, and we'll see if I can see it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alaina:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama, you always have fourteen and fiftyhundred and eighty five hundred and seventeen angels all around you all the time.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;That's a lot, then, is it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Days go by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alaina:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;There's one, Mama!&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look in the direction she looks, closing my eyes, trying to 'see' the angel, as Garrett 'sees' auras by "looking at people with my eyes closed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ummm....it's pink?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alaina:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Yesssss.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Proud, she smiles. Then, two days later:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Right above you, Mama!&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are in the grocery, but this is important and frumpy judgemental overeaters of Glen Burnie and their opinions of my activities are immaterial. I tip my face up, get a sense of...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;...green. It's green, isn't it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alaina:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;I knew you could dew it!&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A notion of color is a long way off a full-fledged vision, but my daughter seems so proud of me that I hesitate to voice any disapointment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-110292338096650818?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/110292338096650818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/110292338096650818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2004/12/not-ready.html' title='Not Ready'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-110203466220944105</id><published>2004-12-02T14:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-12-02T19:47:02.766-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Soul's Soul</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;18 October 2004&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alaina:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;It feels like there is someone else in the house, some one other than us.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Who do you think it is?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;It's Martin.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Ah. Martin's leftover energy is still here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;He left his soul here.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;He left his soul here? Won't he die without his soul?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;His dead soul is in him. That will make him a better life. The dead soul left its soul here. And there's other people. Aunt Cory. Muzzy. Papa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;And Uncle John and Aunt Jennifer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;But not Kynan. Kynan has one dead soul. The other one is growing. Once the soul is dead when you're a baby, the other soul is growing in. When you're grown, your plain soul dies and the soul that's in your soul goes away to make another, better life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;His soul's soul?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;When little kids have their other souls, their other souls are coming out of their plain souls, but they're stuck until we're grown. Your soul's soul has its head pushing out to get free, but it can't get out until you're grown. Then it goes out and goes away. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Your&lt;/span&gt; soul is going out right now and is going to another child that isn't born yet. The heart of your soul is the baby's soul now. Now do you understand?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Not completely, but I'm trying. I think I'd better talk to our friend Julia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julia:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Way to throw you right into the deep end, huh, Mom?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;She was using terminology as though I should know it, like dead soul and soul's soul. I tried to keep up with her, and she was very obviously trying to explain to me in terms I would understand,  but I'm kind of lost. I was hoping you could help.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Well, she's trying to introduce you to the concept of multi-dimensional reality. She's talking about fragments, or soul cells, which is different from our oversoul. As we incarnate in different timelines, each fragment is part of all that we can access. 'Soul memories' can be accessed from both directions, when the body matures enough to access The Source.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Human souls are under the Archangel Michael like a family tree, a series of filters, because pure spirit is too powerful for most of us to deal with undiluted. Your daughter is aware of Soul Source, and when they come in, and when they leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's because the Pineal Gland is reconnecting that we become consciously aware. You'll learn more in dreams when your Soul's Soul comes in to educate you in your sleep.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I hope I'll remember those dreams.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;If it's important that you do, you will. She's trying to make you conscious of multiple realities that exist at the same time, multi-dimensional realities. We as a species have entered 5th dimensional consciousness sometime around September 21st of this year, so it's not a big surprise that she's working on this. As things shift, so do ideas of right and wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, there are some important ages, and I want you to watch out for these. These are the ages of five, 21, 33, and 44.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, write down the things she says and does, because you will forget very quickly, especially since it's information that doesn't completely make sense to you right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If she starts talking about crystals, call me right away. And you can call me whenever you need to. You know that, right?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Yes. Thank you very much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-110203466220944105?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/110203466220944105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/110203466220944105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2004/12/souls-soul.html' title='Soul&apos;s Soul'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-109935385675394160</id><published>2004-11-01T19:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-11-01T21:21:30.906-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Julia Says</title><content type='html'>John:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;I talked to Julia, and she's going to give you a call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;What did she say, anything you can tell me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;She says Alaina is a 'Crystal Child' and she'll talk to you about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;So... I guess that's a 'no'?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Yes, that's a No. You'll understand better if she explains it to you, anyway.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julia:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Your daughter is a Crystal Child, incarnating fully with gifts far beyond ours. She'll be fragile when it comes to chemicals in processed foods and sensitive to others' emotions. She has the ability to communicate with others at distant locations. Most children will love to be around her, but she will only relate well to other Crystals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's going to manifest things very quickly, so be prepared, Mom. She may learn things like teleportation, so don't let that freak you out too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crystals are the strongest of people, but also very fragile. Harsh and negative emotions will tend to shut her down, and she'll close off, so you need to protect her from some of the more negative aspects of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll want to be careful of kidnapping, though it's Indigos who are more prone to being snatched because they're so sweet and loving. Crystals seem to have a natural protection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's here to help change the consciousness of the planet. She was incarnated fully knowing, without karmic paybacks. This is very important. She has no karma, good or bad, to hinder her work. She's here to help humans realize what they are capable of. Her amazing gifts are simply going to get stronger ans she will do a lot of great work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, she didn't pick you by chance. You two have been around together for a long time. She picked you for your heart and the immense amount of love you have to give. You two vibrate harmonically together, and you probably know just what I mean by that. You agreed to come in early, which is the much harder job, so she could incarnate fully knowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll begin to see angels as well, and you should call them to help. She will teach you and you will do angel healings together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't generally recommend reading books, because it's better if you go into this with no preconceptions, as preconceptions will likely cut you off from possibilities. You already know exactly what to do. Everything you need is right there in your heart.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Well, I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;think&lt;/span&gt; I feel reassured. Thank you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-109935385675394160?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/109935385675394160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/109935385675394160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2004/11/julia-says.html' title='Julia Says'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-109838592488213553</id><published>2004-10-21T16:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-10-21T15:12:04.883-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shortly Thereafter</title><content type='html'>John:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"This sounds exactly like what I do when I'm doing energy work. She's right, the energy, or angels, is already there, and all I have to do is direct it. She may be a 'clear channel'. Ask her if her hands get hot. In the meantime, I'll make a few calls to some people I know who work with kids a lot, and I'll get back to you."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Nobody taught her this. I don't know how she knows how to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"She came into the world knowing. She just hasn't forgotten yet, like most of us do. Let me make those calls now, and get you with somebody who can talk you through this."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Thanks, John.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-109838592488213553?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/109838592488213553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/109838592488213553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2004/10/shortly-thereafter.html' title='Shortly Thereafter'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8788992.post-109819977648270681</id><published>2004-10-19T11:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-10-19T11:29:36.483-04:00</updated><title type='text'>First Post</title><content type='html'>Jackie:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"I'm glad I found you. I thought you'd gone. I was going to stop at the office to get your address and write you a note because I wanted to tell you what your daughter had done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was playing, and I asked for a hug. She wanted to know why, and I said that I was having a hard day. She gave me the nicest hug, and then asked if I needed a kiss, too. I said that would be nice, so she kissed my cheek, then asked why I was having a hard day. I told her that my back and my ankle were hurting. She asked if I wanted her to 'call the angels' to make it feel better. I said 'That would be nice.' She told me to breathe very fast, and then she screwed up her face like she was concentrating really hard. I asked, 'Is this how we call the angels?' She said, 'They are already on their way. I just have to show them where to go.' Then she made a beautiful bow, pointing right at my ankle, and then touched my back."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;And what happened? Did your back and ankle feel better?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"They got warm. And yes, they did feel a little better. But it was the most amazing thing. I thought you should know what your daughter had done. It was so sweet and beautiful."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Thank you for telling me. As far as I know, this is the first time she's called angels for anyone not in her immediate family.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8788992-109819977648270681?l=shessospecial.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/109819977648270681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8788992/posts/default/109819977648270681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://shessospecial.blogspot.com/2004/10/first-post.html' title='First Post'/><author><name>Cybele</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16010169619832803037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3L06U0dJkZ8/TCUjHv-YIEI/AAAAAAAAAGw/WhCDNO32h98/S220/PortFragm_large.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
