Psychic Tells Tuesday Afternoon Check-In Post

How Are You??!!

Zoey and Sookie - Masters of Genuine Joy

I went out shoe shopping the other day. I needed some sturdy sandals for walking the dogs in the city and on the trails. I spent a fair amount of time in my favorite shoe store, Alamo Shoes in Andersonville, a place I used to shop thirty-plus years ago.

It’s about as old school as you can get as far as shoe shopping goes, with multiple salespeople on the floor, chatting you up and bringing you piles of boxes filled with shoes. While trying on a few, I watched one of them measure the foot of a child. I also talked with the original owner of the store, who happened to be there.

“They don’t let me work here anymore,” he said of his adult children and their families, who now operate the place. I tried to get him to decide for me, and he suggested I get both of the pairs I couldn’t make my mind up about. I left empty-handed, feeling like I needed more time before doling out the cash.

I headed to a grocery store next, and after parking in their lot, I felt a wave of sadness crash over me as depression settled in. I quickly ran down who it was I had interacted with, as I knew this sadness and depression were not mine. It’s not that I don’t feel these feelings, I do, but when something comes on like this, out of nowhere, for no discernible reason, I have come to learn that I am tuning in to someone else’s or another group’s emotions.

I assumed it was someone at the shop, perhaps the person who was helping me, or maybe the original owner. I ran some light through my field, cleared myself, and then sent it out to whoever it was that needed it, and proceeded to shop, aware that the depression was lingering the longer I was in the store.

“Hmmm, maybe it’s someone here, or everyone here,” I thought. I mean, we’re all a bit freaked out right now. I reran my energetic processes as I pushed the cart through the aisles, checked out, and got out of there. The depression had abated, but still lurked.

The next day, I read on social media that an ICE raid was happening at that very grocery store. It hit me that what I had been feeling was precognitive. I often assume when picking up on energies that it’s an in-the-moment experience, or an after-the-moment experience, and can forget that beyond the third dimension, all is happening now, making us open to accessing those future now-moments in this now-moment.

I have been overly tired the past few days, sleeping more than usual, and napping when I feel I need to. Bigger things are about to break. I am already tired from what lies ahead while gathering my resources to face it as I continue to live my life. The magic act of balancing it all, being aware of the acts of harm, having my feelings about it, taking action where and when possible, and still finding genuine joy is my path through.

The signposts ahead say demonstrations of doom and gloom are on the horizon, with ultimate leaps of incredible progress and movement. Most of us are still stuck to some degree in the loop of suffering ideology here, believing our suffering is necessary for positive outcomes. The suffering at hand will seem to bear fruit, and yet, my heart breaks at the needless suffering. It’s love that will fuel our growth.

With all that is transpiring in our world, we are being battered by the energetic emissions of events that are currently in the making, events that have not yet fully come to pass. It’s a lot, and it’s challenging to track it all. In fact, it’s impossible to track it all. This seems to be part of the plan of those who have forgotten that they are love incarnate, to overwhelm us into submission.

The words of Dylan Thomas ring in my head right now as I think about the assault on the beauty of our lives, our world, our reality, by those monsters trying to bring about Armageddon. While Thomas was writing about the precious quality and experience of life, which ultimately ends in physical death, this so fits our collective moment as well.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.+
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - Dylan Thomas

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