Thursday, December 29, 2011

I See Dead People. But Mostly Feathers left by Invisible Guardian Angels.

If you asked me 15 years ago, if I believed in guardian angels, astrologers, psychics, auras, mediums, soul mates, tarot cards, past lives, and invisible American Indian spirit guides that leave feathers in your path, to help guide you throughout life, or just the day, like finding one on the sidewalk next to a quarter to remind you that you forgot your wallet, having a one land on the “sign here part” of a contract you’re hesitating about, or just seeing one floating in the wind above a girl you’ve been thinking of—I would've put up my middle finger, and said, "How's that for a sign?"No thank you.

Well, I'm not sure exactly when I started connecting with the powers that be, but once I opened up to what was there all along, wow—now I see things so differently. I used to see a psychic regularly on Bleeker Street. She seemed to know things about me, and helped guide me a bit. It was a lot of fun, got me through the end of a relationship, but after awhile, I stopped going. I got my own deck of tarot cards and got pretty good at them.

A major mystical change in my life took place when I spoke with a well-known astrologer in L.A. He did many celebrities charts, so I figured why not? I sent him my name, date of birth, time I was born, and where. Yo, Brooklyn! He got back to me a few days later and my life changed forever. The first thing he said to me was that this reading was unlike any reading I had had before. "This isn't about your personality, it's about your karma. What baggage you carry with you from past lives and how to burn it off." Okay, he freaked me out with the past lives stuff, but I went with it. What followed next, would open my eyes, mind, and chakras forever.

He told me that—because my Neptune was aligned with my blah, blah, blah, and my moon in Saturn was blah, blah, blah—I was murdered in my past life. Well, that got my attention.  I was murdered. He said that I was drowned. That freaked me the hell out. I had been terrified of swimming ever since I was a five years old. I mean scared to death. And then when he was about to say who did it, I was shaking. I knew the answer: “The mafia” he said. I had always been excited about mob movies like everybody else, but I always had a weird feeling when I saw shady characters on the street—like they were looking at me. Anyway, when he said those words, they struck deep. And all I could say was "How real is this?" His response: "Very Real." I told him that I knew he was going to say the mob did it before he did, and he started laughing. “Yeah, they really held you down there,” he said. “Yeah, I wrote on top of your chart: DROWNED BY MOB." Glad it was funny to him. He was in a girl rock band in the 60s, now that was funny.

After that call, I spoke with him some more. We talked about 911. About the homeless. That all is not what it seems kind of stuff. And he didn’t even charge me. I just sent him some incense and a brass ganesh. After a while I had heard enough about soul mates and me being a drug addict alcoholic famous writer in London in 1962,  I walked away. I preferred my daily encounters with angels leaving messages via feathers or signs on trucks. Allow me to explain: One time I was reading a book about how the universe has a big enough supply of everything for everybody. I didn’t believe it, until I walked outside my front door and I truck was sitting there. In  massive letters the sign read: BRUCE SUPPLY. My experience with signs grew wilder overtime. One day I was reading a book about spirituality, and along came a little fruit fly. He started walking on the page circling specific words. I felt a presence. Whoh, this is weird. I wanted to stand up and shout, “Hello, does anybody else see my spiritual master. It freaked me out the first and second time, now I don’t think much of it when things like that happen. And they do: I see auras, a ghost or two. You know, the usual spooky stuff.

But BEWARE of psychics. Some tell you the truth, the whole truth, as they see it, which may not be accurate, or is only accurate at that specific time period. For example, I spoke to a psychic three years ago, and she told me my wife would have a miscarriage. That scared the hell out of me. When my wife got pregnant, I worried nine whole months. And the worst part was that I couldn’t tell my wife. I couldn’t poison her mind.  Well, my daughter came out fine. But I was a nervous wreck till I cut the umbilical cord. Then when my wife got pregnant again last year, I thought that maybe the psychic was referring to that pregnancy. Here we go again. Another 9 months of suffering. This time, I was really dying to tell Brooke. I dreaded the worst. But I controlled myself. I held it in. And Hunter popped out smiling. So be careful what you choose to listen to, because once you hear something, you can’t unhear it.

The truth of the matter is that the answer to all of your questions are within. So always listen to your heart. And if you want to have some fun, watch out for feathers—whether you believe in them or not.

Have a great day!

— Bruce

p.s. If you like my voice, leave some comments about your experiences—and please share on FB.

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