SPIRITUALITY

WOULDNT IT BE FASCINATING TO RECALL YOUR PAST LIFE?


One of my dream jobs was to be a trouble shooter. A person who “fixes” other peoples “problems”.  I just wanted to be the anti-hero. Do the jobs that other peoples’ conscious couldnt handle.

And secretly I wanted to be able to “fix” the endings of every story I read, of every show I watched because I didnt like it!

I had no idea why this “career” was so fascinating to me.

Until the last couple of nights.

Either I was having a Past Life Memory Recall or I was suffering from severe mystery/crime withdrawal because in every dream I had the past of few nights I found myself working as a “trouble shooter”

The first night I dreamt I was working for the Bratva. I could speak and understand perfect russian. I was good with guns and close quarter fighting, but I was better with knives.  my intellect was good.

My job that day was to make sure my boss’s lieutetant made it to one of their clubs with their money. Who knows. I was just there. We ate at a diner when it went to hell in a hand basket!

It had been the man with the overalls that got my attention. A tow trucker. His coveralls were too clean. His cap pulled low over his eyes, it too was too clean. He handled his cup of coffee, and I noticed that his hands were just a bit too soft, the nails werent caked with dirt or oil embedded under the nails. I glanced down at his feet. Even his shoes! What kind of tow truck operator wears shiny loafers? None!

“We have to go now” I muttered to my boss.

He protested of course, too busy filling his face with food.

“now!” I got up, hauled him up and shoved him up out of his chair. I reached for my gun, just as the tow truck operator turned to fire. My bullet got him in the forehead, his face registering surprise.

“How did you know?” my boss asked, as I got him into the car.

“He was too soft and clean.” I replied. I woke up.

Huh.

I spoke perfect Russian! They say if you speak another language in your dream thats a past life!

So I have  had a past life as a chinese girl. And now maybe as a russian? Cool.

Not so cool was the next dream!

I worked for the Cartels, mostly as a Coyote. Yet as a trouble shooter.

The smell of burned flesh was nauseating.

Bodies were lined in rows of an abandon field, crucified and burnt, leaving only their faces to be recognised. A horrible reminder to those who dared to cross the Cartel.

I stared at the blackened bodies for a moment, turned to walk towards the crying family that waited for me.

“We have to go now.” I told them to get their belongings. I would take them as far as the next town.

We travelled for a half a day before we got to the tiny town.  There was a diner. I told them they could freshen up and order anything they want.

As we entered the diner, it got silent. I noticed the odd cold stares we got from the other patrons. They made fuss when we sat down. I told the family to sit down and ignore the townies.

It wasnt even a moment later, when the door to the diner opened, and three men walked in. The family resemblance made them to be father and sons. They walked over. “I am afraid the diner is closed.” the father said.

I ignored him, and continued to order for the family. There was something familiar about him, I couldnt tell what it was tho.

“Did ya hear me, I said the diner is closed.”

“We dont like outsiders!” said the son.

I closed the menu. “you keep yelling in my ear, boy we will have something to talk about.” I grumbled. I noticed the shifty nervous energy from other patrons. They were scared of these three.

The father slammed his hand on my menu, “You get those” he said a nasty racist word. “out of my diner. Out of my diner.”

The waitress began to protest, “please we dont want no trouble.”

The boys shoved her.”Shut your damn mouth, you stupid whore!” the boy shouted.

Ah yes, there it was. It finally clicked on who I was dealing with. These little buggers were on the run from my boss. And had set up shop in this town, and was terrorizing these poor people.

Before they realised what was happening, I had shoved my butter knife in the old man’s hand, grabbed the boy’s head and slammed it in to table, knocking him unconscious. Grabbing the coffeepot from the waitress I flung its hot contents into the other’s face. He screamed. I shoved my fist into his jaw knocking him out.

“You are going to say goodbye to these nice people.” I muttered to the screaming old man. “You are going to leave, and never come back. Because if you do, I will know about it, and leave your carcass in the field.”

the old man shouted an obscenity at me. Yet he managed to do as I say.

I killed two birds with one stone. Protect a town from these bastards. And save these bastards from my boss.

When i woke up this morning, I thought it was odd.

How could I have a memory recall about being in the cartel?

I do have russian and mexican ancestry tho.

 

 

 

Either I am having Past Life recall, or I am suffering from severe mystery/crime tv show/ book withdrawal.

 

COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS


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Think happy thoughts!
Don’t sweat the small stuff!
Never be ungrateful for what you have!
You wouldn’t be going through this if God didn’t think you could handle it!!!  💞

SEEING DEAD PEOPLE: GIFT OR A CURSE!


“Maybe its not a disease! Maybe its a Gift!”
“You wouldn’t consider it a Gift if you saw what I see!”

Would you consider it a gift if you had the ability to see spirits?
Or a curse?

Its a Catch 22, isnt it?

Here is the chance to communicate with loved ones that have passed on. You have the chance to pass on their last words to anyone they choose. You can give closure to the grieving. Or with your Gift, close unsolved cases, that is if the police wants your help!

The downside would be the spirits that are malevolent. You would probably see scary stuff!  “Seeing” other people’s secrets when you touch them.

Would you hide behind meds or have yourself locked up in a mental ward just so you wouldn’t have to deal?

When I was younger, I would have precognitive visions all the time. Since they rarely occurring now, I would assume its because of my medicine.

I would admit it, I would be a coward. I don’t think I would be strong enough.

I mean, my empathy is weird enough, tolerating people’s emotions is bearable. my link to Chad was bearable. Smelling a man’s cologne whenever I sensed my spirit guide near was bearable. But seeing dead people? nooo!

anyone who has some psychic gift must be extraordinary!

“You are not sick. You aren’t crazy! You don’t need these fucking pills! I love you, but I’m not going to let you live like this anymore! You have a Gift, and its time you face your fear!”

What does it say about a man or woman who stays with their loved one after witnessing  and living with all the drama that comes with being a psychic?

I would think anyone with the emotional capacity to stay with a psychic is truly amazing. It shows a great deal of love, integrity, patience, and compassion.

Hmm I wonder if I am capable of such things.

 

Excuse my many emotional random rambling thoughts!!!!

That cold medicine, horror movies inspire a very brain-numbing entry!

Go me!!!

 

SPIRITUAL WELL-BEING


Last night before she went to bed, I had asked K to say her prayers.
I had assumed that my sister was listening to her say them while they were here, and since they had left my parents.
That was a huge assumption. And a joke to think my sister would care about my niece’s spiritual well-being. Especially after all the stuff K has been thru.
“Why?!” K asked.
“What do you mean, why?!” I was mortified. Offended. (I guess this is what my mother went thru when we were kids)
“Oh Rebecca she doesn’t have to say her prayers!” My snapped.
Well my mortification went straight to anger and panic. K’s weird behavior was intensifying, if she was indeed playing on my fears and anxiety she was one smart socialopath in the making. If not, something else was influencing her behavior, and it would not be tolerated!
My sister was lucky I had been in the bathroom changing or she would have been clocked! “Do not ever say that!” I snapped. “K please say your prayers!”
Moments of silence passed, “k I do not hear you! Please may hear you?!”
“She does not have to say them, its not bedtime!” My sister cried.
My anger fled, and my anxiety returned.
In the shower, I prayed for K’s spiritual well-being. Her health, her mentality and the ability to pull thru whatever chaos she was in, with pure of heart and no residual effects so to speak.
My faith gives me comfort, I was hoping K would find comfort and peace by talking to God.
I don’t know how parents do it. All this constant worrying over the well-being over their child! My sister is so oblivious, that my anxiety goes thru the roof!
I am wondering would my anxiety towards her spiritual growth, put my own faith at risk? Because isn’t my anxiousness questioning the strength of my love for God?!!!

PRAYED HEAVILY THIS MORNING


Had to meditate, do some prayer work!
The negativity here is horrible!
How can one person create so much darkness wherever she goes?!
I prayed that I wouldn’t affect anyone like that!
I wouldn’t want to be that kind of person!
Then I prayed for my sister!
And let it go.
Hopefully, all will be well!!!

TO BE HAPPY


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I am happy I found this prayer.
Often times I find myself allowing the idea that I have to be in love to be happy.
To be with someone to be happy.
In those times, I am the most unhappiest.
I realised those are times when I havent stood strong in my faith.
Am I not questioning His plan?

STEADFAST


I hate trying to persevere

I hate trying to find hope in a well of darkness

when I stumble I hate trying to pick myself.

Giving up. Hate.

 

Those horrible words.

We think will crumble under the mighty weight He has given us

but He has faith in us.

He knows we can carry the burden.

His love will guide us through the strain and tough times but faith never wavers.

It must never waver.

For at the end of the day, we may never see our family, our friends may not be who they say they are, Our lovers will reveal their true selves, He will remain steadfast. An anchor in our lives.

– My thoughts before bed.