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Friday, February 27, 2015

Finding my writing rhythm with Deborah Kimmett



Writing is a fun thing for me to do. Writing a book about Scrying my journey with the Crystal Ball has been torture! That is until Deborah Kimmett's Seven Minute Writer's Boot Camp. Deborah encouraged her online class to write. We wrote about anything and everything. She showed us that we could write! And then she helped each one of us write the story we were trying to birth. She got us to dig deep, share more and paint the picture we had in our heads. Deborah helped me see how long ago my journey with the crystal ball began. She helped me see how to share that story and make it compelling. Here is the link to Deborah's Seven Minute Writer's Boot Camp. A new one starts in April: http://kimmett.ca/home/the-seven-minute-writer/  If you want to write and do it better check it out.

 Here is an early exert from the book that I have been trying to write for five years. Enjoy!
The call to witness
It had been a long two years since we found Mom dead in her bed on my brother’s birthday. The grieving process was not going especially well for me. One thing that I had learned at a very young age was that you don’t show emotions. Grief was not to be seen or heard. Life should carry on as quickly as possible. Mom wonderful staunch Scottish Presbyterian woman that she was always demonstrated that stiff upper lip, onward and with decorum personally in times of troubles. I suppose that is what she learned from her Mother. There were plenty of troubles in our home. Keeping us all together and moving forward was Mom’s greatest gift to us. Learning what to do with feelings? Well, you just didn’t do feelings if they were inconvenient or messy.
So I was floundering and at the same time pretending that life was wonderful and normal. Increasingly I was finding solace in the wine bottle. Our finances were in tatters. Our marriage was stagnating. Physically my digestive system had decided it was Mount Vesuvius and gave me no end of pain and discomfort. The Ice Queen now ruled my emotions. And yet, I would have told you cheerfully that everything was wonderful as I invited you over for supper. Because more than anything else the show had to go on.
They say nothing changes until the status quo becomes unbearable. And as the years rolled on one to another the pressure inside me to do something was increasing daily. I tried to get help. We tried all sorts of medications to settle my digestive system down. I went to church. I walked miles. I drank more. Nothing stuck. I wanted to be free of this awful pain. It always felt like something was missing and that I existed outside of the social and work circles that I was in. For many years I thought this was grief over the loss of my Mother.
Mom’s death was an ending.  It was also the beginning of a journey as I remembered life as a little girl at home on the island. The journey back began with a Tarot deck from Doubleday book club which eventually led me to a psychic development course where I encountered my first Crystal Ball.  
Over the years amazing things have happened when I take up the Crystal Ball. Time and space have no real meaning when I am with the crystal. I am able to listen to the soul of the person I am reading. For years I have been afraid to do it or acknowledge that this is what I do.  Other divining tools such as tarot cards restrict you because of their rules and structure. Scrying is freedom. Scrying opens the senses. Smells waft by inexplicably, feelings long forgotten demand attention, a band strikes up a song and dancers gaze into each other’s eyes as they swish across the floor. Stories unfold as you scry. Some have happened others are to come. This is the joy of sorting out the message. To scry is to know nothing and everything all at once.
And finally you begin to listen to the soul who is speaking or sharing through the crystal. It’s what I did when I sat on the shores of the St Lawrence River as a young girl. Scrying the river allowed me to empty my mind and hear. It is the ultimate form of Spiritual listening for me. I suppose it is exactly what the Buddha and many other great teachers tell us to do. For me it comes with a crystal in my hand or the river at my feet. Recovering from my Mom’s death and all that followed took me back to this early knowledge this time with a crystal ball in my hand.

The greatest challenge has been trusting that this is a valid process. I worked in a Psychiatric hospital for many years and really know the dangers of being different. For many years no one wanted to hear this stuff. Over the years listening to people this deeply has enabled me to help them find that ever elusive peace for their soul. It has given me the same peace. I can no more walk away from it now than I could do without water. This work is a natural process for me. When I do it I am filled with contentment and joy. It fills me up where many people think it would deplete me. Scrying, listening, sharing with people their own story helps us both equally. It’s why I do this work. It’s why I share how to do it with you now. 


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