Tarot Learning vs Psychic Abilities Metaphysical Questions

 Do you have a question? 


How to activate psychic abilities.

What is my purpose in life?
What happens after death?
Is this a spiritual gift or karmic connection?
What zodiac sign is best for me?
What happens when a pet dies?

I have been trained since birth by Spiritual Masters. They have trained me in the Spiritual Laws and I have helped thousands of people find answers to their questions by shifting their perspective. When you learn to see the world through the lens of soul, you will detach and find peace.

So email your questions or message them to me through facebook: astrologyandmore (@) gmail.com or
https://www.facebook.com/mavanti  and I will anonymously post them here with answers for you.
I am collecting these for a new book I am writing, so while I am helping you, I will also be able to help many more people who will read the book

Here is a question I recently received about psychic abilities & the tarot.

Q: Is Tarot reading successful due to the studied format or thru the psychic ability?

A: It is usually a combination of these two things. Everyone is psychic as soul is who we are, not something we own. But because we are in physical vehicles (the human body in our case) we are focused here in the physical plane of consciousness. We of course shift our focus throughout the day and in our sleep. But most humans focus in the three lower planes of consciousness, these being the astral or emotional state, mental or mind state and the higher part of the mental which is known as the causal plane or timeline. 

When we have psychic moments, our consciousness shifts to one of these levels and thus we can have what is known as a psychic moment. When we shift to the causal we may see the future. When we shift in the astral, we scan energy patterns and learn all kinds of information about someone or perhaps find ourselves connecting with individuals who are no longer in the physical form. We all have these "psychic" moments. 

But when we take time to learn the tarot, which are cards that actually synthesize pages of an ancient book of wisdom, we learn how to trust and open and thus our psychic nature is enhanced. 

It all comes down to trust and trust is something we earn as we experience. So a good teacher will help you learn and as you learn, what you discover is not just the meaning of cards, but of the basis of the creation of this plane of consciousness and all the levels that are part of it. As you learn these things and work with the cards, you learn to open to knowledge that may seem to come from nowhere. Instead of from the subconscious, you learn access the super conscious and to trust it. This is the key to all psychic development. To trust what you hear and follow a path to see its logic or truth in the physical. The more you see the truth in what you are being told, the more you learn to trust it. 

The gift of the tarot, is that it has a basis that you can fall back on to check yourself, and to make sure you are understanding what you are receiving. For example, someone calls you and asks, will my husband get the job he just applied for? You may feel a strong yes or no, or you may hear a phone ring and feel a sense of exhilaration, or you may feel sadness.. or hear a voice saying yes.. or so many other instantaneous experiences may come through when the person asks the question or even just before they ask it. But you say nothing, instead you ask Spirit to give you the information through the tarot. There in the card or cards you pull you see the story that confirms exactly what you received before you opened the deck. 

Having this type of experience, builds confidence in your abilities and confirms them. Eventually you will be tested to discern the difference between your mind spewing info and your higher self. For most students this can take two years but when you use the tarot properly, you can learn it very quickly.  

Michele Avanti CAP is a metaphysician, an ISAR certified astrology professional, accredited fixed star astrologer, award winning author and professional artist. She has taught metaphysics since 1972 and astrology since 1993. Her work in the field of art began at a young age selling her first painting while still in high school. Michele holds two BFA degrees in fine art and photographic illustration. She works with clients all over the world as a metaphysical and astrological consultant as well as a ghost writer, book designer and commissioned artist.

Michele has been honored by her peers in many ways including, three awards for best juvenile fiction and visionary fiction for her book, GreeHee The Journey Of Five. She is also past president of the Las Vegas Stargazers, co-founder and vice-president of The Astrology Club of Reno and past president of Northern California Publishers & Authors.

Michele lives in Southern Oregon with her husband, her four dogs, two cats and numerous fish. To contact Michele, email her at: astrologyandmore@gmail.com , or visit her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mavanti  her website:  micheleavanti.com

or for her art: http://michele-avanti.pixels.com/

Osama Bin Laden is dead - should we be joyful?

On this evening, we received notice that President Obama had given the command to attack a compound in Pakistan, where intelligence reports determined Osama Bin Ladin might be, and that indeed, Bin Laden had been killed and his body taken in custody.

Ground Zero, May 2, 2011 after hearing of the death of Osama Bin Laden

Americans began congregating in Washington DC, and at Ground Zero. Many celebrated our accomplishment and some reveled in Bin Ladin's death.

Someone asked the question, is this the right thing to do? Is it right to be joyful that we have murdered a man?

So here I will address this question because I know there are many around the world who are torn between answering both; 'Yes,' and, 'No.'

It is not the matter of it being good or bad to celebrate a man's death, but it is how we focus our heart that we must learn.

We must celebrate a change in direction, a change in the course of justice, in the good that we intend, in the freedom that we will advance and in all that we may now be free to accomplish that took backseat to this conflict.

We must be proud of our military, the good hearts, the courageous ones that protect our freedoms with their very lives. Know these young people struggle, sometimes their entire lives, with the challenge of having killed another human being - even though it is their duty and may be an honorable act of war.

We must celebrate our president's courage to say, go, even if it is a murder.

But we must not revel in murder, for to do so is to activate a frequency that is ancient, violent and empowers a reaction of revenge. This is not what we are about.

Instead of declaring we are happy we murdered Bin Laden, we must say, we are happy we are now free of Bin Laden and his directives. And we pray that those who follow in his footsteps will refrain if only from fear of our power to retaliate, but hopefully in time through their realization that we can share this planet and be different.

Let us pour love into all those who despise us. Let us fill our hearts with love for their very spiritual essence is great. and let us ask their essence, their higher selves to filter new views, to see that we all desire the same thing - happiness, and that the violence in their holy books is not the voice of their God, but of someone who wrote in God's name without God's love in their heart.

Let us remember that there are many writings in the bible that speak to violence, and an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, but we have gone beyond these words, yet we still call this book the work of God.

We are at the end of one age and the beginning of another, we must learn that love is power and we must make the transition to it.

Everyone will not come willingly, and we may have to use old means of force and power at times, but let us not forget where we are going, let us revel in the love of one earth, one tribe, with ideas and cultures unique and diverse.

Let us know that as we step forward we must always see that we are expanding love, as we are diminishing evil, and though some steps may be done in the old way, we will eventually break free into a new world where we seek to understand and embrace our differences, while honoring all life as sacred.

Death - Love - Suicide - Visits From The Other Side

One of the greatest fears humans hold, is the fear of death. Though it is nothing more than another doorway to soul, the human mind, with help from culture, religion, media, etc, has made death into something much larger, something to be dreaded, and never discussed.

To understand what happens when we die, there are many excellent books available, a new one, written by Stephanie Riseley, Love From Both Sides – A True Story of Soul Survival and Sacred Sexuality,will give you a wonderful perspective. It is a down-to-earth account of loss and renewal. Stephanie brings death into focus, love into focus, and even suicide into clearer perspective. Written in an engaging style, you will instantly find yourself a part of Stephanie's life, and the amazing transformation she experiences after her husband dies.

Today, I had the pleasure to interview Stephanie about her profession as a hypnotherapist, and about her new book Love From Both Sides.

Hi Stephanie, my first question; one of your quotes that I found interesting is you married at the age of 42 after being as you called it, Terminally single.' Did you actually use that language before finding your husband? Or did you change it shortly before you connected.

‘Terminally single’ is just a phrase I used in Love From Both Sides – A True Story of Soul Survival and Sacred Sexuality. In reality when I was 42, I was too busy to worry about it.I was in UCLA’s graduate film school, surrounded by darling, sexy young men, (some of them successful now!), worked 20 hours a week in the production store, had another job with Eve Arden. I barely had time to eat, let alone date! What I did do, however, was organize a group of girlfriends and we used what would now be called “The Laws of Attraction” to visualize our best future. I called what we did “Goddess Ceremonies,” and I was Head Goddess. It was so fun! On the full moon, we’d head out to the beach, sit in a circle and conjure our best future. I would essentially put everyone in a state of focused concentration (hypnosis) and then each “goddess” would visualize and verbalize her “Perfect Day” while the rest of us sent the intentions soaring skyward. And amazingly so much as what we visualized came true!

I noticed that you are a certified hypnotherapist, a field that exposes threads of life and offers a solution to dissolve challenging subconscious trends. In your work have there been any clients who have had such incredible turn-abouts that they surprised you?

I have so many incredible turn abouts! I teach my clients how to reprogram their brains, and rid themselves of the negative self-talk and sabotaging behaviors and, because of that, everything in their lives changes for the better! I love what I do.
.

Hypnotherapy opens the mind to all the powers of the subconscious, which I believe makes the hypnotherapist a prime candidate to hear and perhaps see dis-incarnate spirits. Did you have any experiences with beings not in physical bodies before your contacts with your husband?

Great question! Here’s exactly what happened to me directly from Love From Both Sides:

.... Dan’s dying was not my first experience with the “In Between.” I’d had others, but since I desperately wanted to be normal, I chose to ignore them.

My first happened when I was 19. I had pericarditis with bilateral lung effusions, or in English, the sack around my heart, the pericardium, got inflamed and both my lungs filled with fluid. As one doctor would say, “You’ve got a literally weeping heart. It’s actually very poetic.” Poetic perhaps, but it made it so painful to breathe that I couldn’t lie down flat.

My parents had no interest in my health or anything besides their own passionate dance of destruction; so consequently, I sat alone and upright in a darkened room for almost two weeks.

When one of my mother’s friends opened my door, looked in and saw me, it was almost too late. They rushed me to the hospital, but after the nurses got me settled into bed, I simply wanted “out.” I remember closing my eyes, and it felt as if my hands were holding onto a bar just overhead, then I simply let go. Like magic, I slid easily down toward a warm, amber light. I knew exactly what was happening; I was dying and I felt relieved. But then out of nowhere, something grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and yanked me back. It felt as if my body screamed, “Hey, wait just a damned minute! You’re nineteen. You may not want to live, but all of us hundred-twenty trillion cells do! So get a grip, Girl!”

As it turns out, according to “Dan,” it wasn’t just my body, it was my “over soul” and my “guides.” It didn’t matter to me who or what brought me back, because there I was, in searing pain, and knowing that I would live, which at the time was not good news.

That was in April of 1967, long before Elisabeth Kübler-Ross published her book on death and dying, so like many people, I kept that experience to myself. But it changed me; it gave me the courage to ignore the doctors who told me I had five years to live. So I had systemic lupus? So what? People got over worse things, and somehow I knew I’d get over this. The following March, I managed to get myself into UC Berkeley, which still amazes me, since I’d barely bothered to show up at Hollywood High. After three years in Berkeley, I moved to New York City to study acting. I lived there eleven years, moved back to LA for seven, then back to Berkeley to finish up my degree in 1988, so UCLA would be kind enough to let me into their graduate school of film.

In the twenty years in between, I flirted with the alternative world, but kept my distance. It seemed too flaky, airy-fairy and filled with far too many spiritually smug people. Although, to be honest, Jane Roberts’s channeled books, Seth Speaks and The Nature of Personal Reality changed my life. Her books not only gave me doable exercises that helped me heal my damaged body; they also gave me a dynamically different perspective on day-to-day living.

Looking back on it now, I was connected to the alternative realm whether I wanted to be or not. For instance, while I still lived in New York, I heard a man on the radio talk about past life regressions. So I sat right down, followed his instructions, and wham! I saw myself as a nun – an ugly, French nun – sitting in my little cell, writing, and looking out onto a beautiful garden. I knew the time period – late Middle Ages – I saw her life, but I didn’t take it seriously.

Besides, I was too busy supporting my acting addiction, so I drove a taxi weekend nights to pay for the acting, dancing and singing classes that went along with it. One snowy, slippery night, when I got home at three a.m., completely exhausted, I put Beethoven’s Ninth on the stereo and curled up on the couch to unwind. I was still in my twenties, so I sat there wondering: What was life all about? What was its purpose? To do good work? Be a success? Find happiness?

When suddenly my whole insides filled up with that same radiant, amber light. Only this time a voice – a distinctly male voice -- boomed out, “Life is to be loved.” Implicit in that message was the realization, the deep understanding, that life wasn’t to be figured out or fretted over (my own unending “inner monologue”) -- life was simply to be loved. Since I come from a background steeped in American Protestant self-denial, “life is to be loved” was real news to me. I thought life was simply to be suffered through. I assumed my ability to stoically withstand pain was the path to spiritual redemption. It’s the “Brownie Points in Heaven” view of reality that most good little Christian girls are taught.

Did the “Life is to be loved” message solve any problems? Did I pay attention? No, I had more important things to worry about. I studied acting with the amazing Stella Adler, and so I only asked the Big Questions, the questions that mattered -- What is Art? Truth? Beauty?

Life goes on (unless, of course, it doesn’t) and mine continued for years without any more nudges from the “In Between.” Then in June of 1988, my baby sister Gheri-Llynn committed suicide. She was eleven years younger and only twenty-nine. During her downward spiral into despair, I tried desperately to get her help. I finally managed to get her into UCLA’s Neuropsychiatric Institute (NPI), where I’d worked for four years, but all they could do was drug her into a shaky-handed stupidity. She hated how that made her feel and consequently, she was determined to do what she wanted. And she wanted “out.”

The month before she died, while I still lived in Berkeley, finishing off twenty-eight units of undergraduate work, Gheri-Llynn drove up to say good-bye. It was my birthday and she handed me a beautiful pair of blue teardrop earrings and said, “These stones are three million years old. Some things last and some things don’t.”

I’m five-foot-eight and she was just barely five-three; I grabbed her by the shoulders, looked down into her deep brown eyes and said, “Gheri-Llynn, if you do this, I will never forgive you. I swear, I will hunt you down in the afterlife. I’m serious. You cannot do this.” She looked away, hugged me and kissed me good-bye.

The night before I was due to drive back down to L.A., (where I was going to try to get more help for her) my father called at one a.m. All he said was, “Steph?” and I knew she was dead. I threw the phone across the room and started screaming, “My baby! My baby! My baby!” I screamed for five hours.

I drove back to Los Angeles and stayed in a friend’s guest house the next night. As I lay there in the stunned disbelief that goes along with death, I turned and looked through two tall French glass doors out into the darkness. Suddenly, amorphous, scary figures of black men began to sail through the doors toward me. One held a knife, the next one held a gun, the next a rope, but they evaporated just before they reached me. Each one looked so real, so threatening; they were very specific people. I knew they weren’t real -- I knew it, yet I didn’t know it.

I’m not afraid of black men. As I said, I drove a cab in New York City for seven years, and since I was just out of Berkeley, I drove with my belief system in tact. Which means that I was one of the few taxi drivers who would pick up black people – black men in particular -- and take them to more challenging areas of the city -- to Harlem, the South Bronx, Bed-Sty, East New York -- to the places where many African American people lived. And believe me, in the late ‘70s at the height of the drug epidemic, those were dangerous destinations. But I drove in and out of these places all the time, so fear of black men was not an issue for me.

Gheri-Llynn, on the other hand, had been raped by a black man. She was only twenty-one when he climbed through her bedroom window at three a.m., then he held a knife to her throat while he raped her.

As I continued to watch these flying black men, I wondered what the hell they could be. Since I did field research evaluating the incidence of mental illness in the population at large when I worked at NPI, I knew that one of the key indicators of schizophrenia was seeing things that aren’t there. I kept my eye on these black phantoms, these threatening men, trying to think clinically, unemotionally. “Well, this is interesting. This must be what it’s like to be crazy.” Until finally it hit me. I’d finally broken. I was crazy. Then I filled with fear. I would be like Lily Tomlin’s Trudy -- one of the crazy people who roam the streets, chatting to the phantoms who keep them company.

And that’s when the leaping stream of black men stopped. They simply evaporated.

Then Gheri-Llynn “came through.” In real life, she was a tiny, determined, fireball of energy with a wicked sense of humor, and it was Gheri-Llynn, all right. “Wow!This is nothing like what I expected. You were right, damn it! That was so stupid of me. Nothing to do about it now. But those black guys? I just needed you to experience my reality. I needed you to understand why I couldn’t go on living. I was too scared -- all the time.” This happened in a flash, not in words, but in images and feeling tones. I tried to ask her what the Other Side was like, but she couldn’t tell me. Too complicated, she said. This was all she could do now.

Then she wanted to be held. I was lying still, my arms at my sides, and yet it felt as if I held my chubby, cuddly three-year-old baby sister. I hugged her and she hugged me. My body filled to the brim with so much love that I felt throbbing love-tingles in my fingernails, and then she was gone. ....

I know anyone who has lost someone they love, parent, child, mate, sibling, friend, etc., wants to experience contact. They want the reassurance that they have not lost, and that life will continue. What would you like to share with them about how they can open up to that contact and how they can recognize it?

Everyone’s experience is different. For me? It took me four months of chest beating mourning, before Dan could “break through” the heaviness of painful emotion. Recognizing the different ways that “spirits” can communicate might be helpful.

According to many sources, spirits can turn lights on and off. According to medium Lisa Williams, for instance, spirits communicate though pennies – so look for pennies. Clocks break. When I think back on it, my watch broke immediately and so I was “compelled” to put on my newly dead husband’s watch, filled with his energy. When I started channeling, the energy came through the hand that his watch was on – my left. And what’s funny, or weird? This last May 9^th, which would have been Dan’s birthday, I could “feel” him near me – I knew he was around, because I missed him so much… again. And then everywhere I went, there were pennies all over! It was literally pennies from heaven! Isn’t that funny?

Though I know you reveal an amazing amount in your book Love From Both Sides, can you tell our audience what you feel was the most exciting moment of contact from your husband?

I’ll quote from Love From Both Sides again, because it was a moment that explained our entire relationship:

.... Dan urged me to keep reading Journey of Souls by Michael Newton, the hypnotherapist who regresses clients to recall their In Between memories. A few clients told him about the “making of objects,” (an In Between activity) and about the “hierarchy of souls” by colors. They said that “Baby Souls” are white. Then there’s a progression that goes from off-white with yellow or gold flecks, on to gold. Then gold with blue flecks or streaks, to blue with yellow flecks, then to pure blue. Then the blues go on to purples in the same sort of progression.
I read over these sections and wanted to see what Dan had to say.

Sunday, May 26, 2002 -- 8:30 p.m.

Dan the man here – you sweet thing. I had a busy day. The making of objects took almost all my attention – what you just read was no coincidence.

What color are you now?

White with flecks of yellow.

How about Enoch?

White with flecks of yellow. I am Enoch – Enoch is me. But that’s why I write “Dan the man.” It’s my Dan-ness you remember. It’s my Dan-ness you miss.

I began to cry, and when I cried, he couldn’t get through my emotion. I felt his annoyance.

Don’t cry.

It’s 5 months today, Dan. I still find it weird that 1) you’re gone and 2) you’re back. Of course, I doubt this every so often. And yet this is so real to me.

It’s real to me – but not at all weird. The weird thing seems to be your life now.

(All I did was go to work, go to yoga, and come home. Period.)

But as I said, your body is still in shock and that’s why you’re tired. But you’re in bed and that’s good.

Did you listen to those “History of Philosophy” tapes?

Some. Nietzsche was/is destructive garbage. Wish I’d never read him. Glad you didn’t.

The philosophers I think people on this plane think the most of are Emerson, Dostoyevsky and Blake.

Dostoyevsky especially – Prince Mishkin was always a favorite of mine and yours too. But I don’t think we ever discussed The Idiot.

That was so odd. Because he was right – I loved Dostoyevsky – I loved The Idiot, yet we’d never talked about it.

Take care.

Hey! Wait. Have you seen Bea?

Just at her arrival. She’s busy with Arch and Steve.
(Her husband and son.)

What color was she?

Yellow with flecks of blue – like you. You’re blue with flecks of yellow.

I could feel his energy pull back, as if his face scrunched up – just like in life when he had to admit I was right about something. I smiled.

Oh?
(Begrudgingly…)

Yes. You are more advanced than me. That’s why I had such a bad time adjusting. I “came in” with a teacher – you – then refused to be taught.

We both sat with that, and silently acknowledged how much that one sentence explained the dynamics of our relationship. In our life together, I felt compelled to share what I knew – what I had learned -- but he simply refused to listen. Since there was no fixing it now, I just sighed and changed the subject.

If I’ve been in training for 30 years, training for what?

To do the job of opening more the door of awareness.

And I do that with my book?

Yes.

Oh, great! I filled with frustration because I was having such a tough time writing it. First off, I was a screenwriter. What did I know about writing a book? Not one thing. Second, writing a book about sacred sex and marriage was a real challenge, considering I’d only recently discovered that my own marriage had almost killed me.

So I changed the subject again. ....

Through your experiences connecting with your husband from the other side, how have you changed?

Everything has changed! Nothing’s at all like it was. I now live in a completely magical universe where every moment is filled with joy – and appreciation! It’s what I teach my clients!

Are you now open to love again, or have you fallen in love again?

Oh, yes – I’m open to love but in a completely different way. I love everything now – I love my clients, I love my friends – I love the winds in the trees. But if you’re talking romantic love, I’ve changed there, too. I have no expectations about men, because I have so many male clients. Men are so fragile. But I appreciate what the universe offers in terms of physical closeness – and yes, I have someone who appreciates me.

Where do you see yourself five years from now?

If anyone had told me five years ago that I would be where I sit today, proprietor of my own business with a book published, I wouldn’t have believed them. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been in my life. So in the next five years, if I can just keep doing the work I’m meant to do, which is to help get the word out that death is not an ending. No one ever dies. Death is actually a beginning of sorts, or just another stop on the soul’s journey in learning how to love. And if I can do that, then when I die in this lifetime, I will have fulfilled my own purpose.

Is there anything else you want to share with our readers?

Enjoy your life now! Look at what brings you joy and go out and do it – that’s “soul work,” believe it or not!

Bless you all, and I hope you buy my book! You’ll like it – it’s fun, really! And if you have questions, write me: Stephanie @ StephanieRiseley.com

Love From Both Sides - A True Story of Soul Suvival and Sacred Sexuality
Buy It Now on Amazon
Learn more about Stephanie by visiting her website at StephanieRiseley.com



Below you can listen to an excellent interview with Michael Newton, hypnotherapist and author of Journey of Souls. He will explain how, through work with clients, he discovered what people experience in death, and what they do after they die. If you listen and embrace what he says, you will never be afraid of death again.






Here is a segment from Seth Speaks regarding: death, dying, incarnations, astral travel, out of body experience, and life after death.



To listen to more of the Seth audio/video series click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m58P9t3PNEE&NR=1

To Best Friends - HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

Pretty, Wonderful Peppy

It has been a traumatic, hectic week. One that ended today with Valentine's Day - a day when we cherish everyone we love. A time to indulge in love, chocolate, hugs, kisses, and all the endorphin kickers. A day when red heart shaped balloons float above registers in most stores, reminding us of all the Valentine's we have experienced.

What a day.

One week ago, our beloved seventeen year old English Pointer was making her midnight rounds, checking the perimeters of the property like she has done every night as long as I have known her. After giving her warning to the four directions, she banged the doggy door, and came inside.

Within an hour, my husband woke to the sound of her trying to get up. He thought she must have lost traction on the hardwood floor and went downstairs to help her.

But tragedy had struck, and Peppy had lost the use of her hind legs. She could not stand up.

Joe stayed with her all night, attempting to keep her calm as she struggled with fear, and the inability to regain control of her limbs. Joe piled up some of the many beds I had bought for her, wanting her old bones to find soft padding in every room in our tri-level.

Early the next morning, Joe woke me, and told me what had happened. Exhausted Joe went to bed, and I went to the family room.

Immediately seeing me, Peppy attempted to get up to greet me. She struggled, and I sat close to her. I rubbed her hind legs. I massaged her back. I cried knowing that if a miracle did not occur, she would not be able to adjust to this lack of mobility.

So went Sunday. We took her for a short ride outside in our red flyer filled with pillows. It gave her a little comfort to feel she would not dirty herself, though we diligently cleaned up after her. We wanted her to feel safe, to know we loved her, and that she was good, loved, and that nothing could ever change that. She looked so tired. Finally in the late afternoon she fell asleep for a little while. Joe was also sleeping upstairs, and I worked while keeping an eye on her.

I thought of our many times together. How she loved to chase a stick, dive for rocks, and hike for miles with us. How she always followed me around the house, slept on the futon behind me as I worked and Joe worked or played golf away from home. How she snuggled against me, and licked my face when I cried, and wanted me to be happy. She always loved, always watched, always cared.

Back in 2000, we had hiked to Eagle Lake in Tahoe. It was June 27 or 28th, and there was still snow on the ground. Pepper promptly found a stick to carry, which she always did when we hiked. Then Joe and I found walking sticks. Pepper and Joe quickly outpaced me. I lagged behind with lots of other people on the trail, each making their way to some area around the lake at the top.

At some point, Pepper turned to see where I was, she noticed me, and the really large stick I held. She dropped her stick and raced to me. Then began a tug of war for my hiking stick. I laughed, and hollered for Joe to call her. Everyone around me stood laughing as Peppy attempted to take the biggest stick. She was amazing.

When we finally got to Eagle Lake, it started to snow. The water frozen in some places, must have been freezing cold, but Pepper dove in, and began her favorite routine. Searching underwater for rocks to present to us. She could hold her breath for as much as eight seconds while digging below the water to release a choice rock, before surfacing. Then she would dive back down, get the rock in her mouth, and present it to one of us. It was too cold, I pulled her to me, afraid she would freeze. We put an extra sweatshirt on her and I snuggled with her to keep us both warm. She was such a love.

A few years back, while living in Reno, a family of raccoons, a raccoon mom, and three grown youngsters, moved into our garage...they liked eating cat food. Pepper ran them out of the garage to the back porch, where Pep fiercely snarled at the mother coon, who hissed back showing teeth and claws. It was a terrifying sight. Calling Pepper off, Joe sprayed the coons with water.

Pepper feared nothing. She would protect her family from anyone or anything.


Joe & Peppy at the lake

Her best friend and mentor was our Mr. Jags, a big, intelligent, gumbie cat. He raised Peppy, as well as our other two cats. He was the cat of cats, not to be kept inside, but to wander and then come home in the evening. When he would return home, he always found Pepper and licked her face. You can see a picture of them here. This picture was taken last March, a short time before Mr. Jags died. He was nineteen years old.


Old Friends - Pepper (16 years) and Mr. Jags (19 years)

It has been a hard week, and to say the least it has been a difficult twelve months.


Best Friends for more than sixteen years

On Monday morning, we took the twenty-two mile drive to the vet, to release our lovely Pep from the body that would no longer work for her. We brought her home and buried her on our land, not far from Mr. Jags, and across the yard from our big sweet orange cat, Mr. Sousi, who also died last year after Mr. Jags. He was over twenty years old

I want to say lots of things about all of these friends because it is Valentine's Day and I love them, each of them and the many that have gone before them over the many, many years I have lived. So I am adding pictures to honor them. To share their love, and I hope you will snuggle with you friends, and lover, and recall all the beings who blessed your life with unconditional love. These wonderful life forms, whose language we seldom understand, but who try relentlessly to understand ours, to teach us love, and who bring us incomparable joy and friendship. We are so lucky to share our world with them.

Hugs to each of you...may your life be blessed with unconditional friends, who make you laugh, lick away your tears, and beg you to exercise with them so you can both live long healthy lives.



Mr. Sousi in his prime


Jags, Gump, and Peppy - Spring 2002


Shogun (12 1/2 years old) and Peppy (7 years old)


Homer - One of Peppy's best friends, Shogun's mate, and my protector for 15 years.


Miss Luna, with her best friend Mr. Jags, who she dearly misses.


Pumpkin and Pepper, friends from the start




My dearest friends - both now on the astral together