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I know that all of the people that I’ve loved who’ve passed on, have done so from the warm peace of a room that looked out at blizzards, windswept glittery snowglobe snow, and biting cold.
I am humbled by my own connection to the other world. Perhaps every family suspects that they are special this way, have some kind of psychic connection that others don’t, but all of the women in my family feel the pull of spirits. Maybe it’s just my mystical Catholic upbringing, or maybe it’s a legacy of strong women, oftentimes forced to stand on their own without support from anyone but God…women guided to trust the one thing that they could, their intuition.
I believe that it’s a practice, senses that sharpen with regular use. Once you’re more in tune with the inner workings of your own mystery, you begin to pick up on the mysteries around you.
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