4/26/12—Knowing vs. Thinking

Today's Draw: The Priestess from the Gaian Tarot. Do you give more weight to what you "think" or to what you "know"? What is an example of something you've just "known" that turned out to be true? Where do you stand on the topic of "coincidences" like I've written about below.

The High Priestess in the tarot draws a distinction between "thinking" and "knowing". Thinking is about rationally processing the things you see, hear, touch, taste and smell. Knowing doesn't have to be rational at all. It's the inner processing of things see, hear, touch, taste and smell...along with things you don't see, hear, touch, taste and smell. In a way, though, the High Priestess isn't about the five senses at all. It's about the six sense of intuition that we all have...that sense of knowing in the absence of proof. 

Until I drew this card, I hadn't realized that, in the last 24 hours, I had been carrying on conversations with two of my real-life friends and colleagues. Both of them are mediums. And both of them, in one way or another, gave me the same message. 

One received her message from beyond. It wasn't even meant for me. She sent it in a newsletter to all her peeps. A spirit person came to her and said that he worried about the people he left behind because they still grieved him. And not so much because he was gone, but more because of the pain he endured, the length of time he suffered and all they went through when he was alive. He wanted them to know he was free of that now and that he didn't want them to think of him that way. He wanted them to think of him at peace and the way he was before his illness. 

The other sent me the following poem: 

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!
—Mary Frye (1932)

Over the next couple of days, my family is going to say their final goodbyes to my brother and bury his body. But that's all they'll be burying—a vessel that has ceased to serve. Even without any mystical mumbo jumbo, his spirit will never leave the hearts and minds of those who loved him. But WITH the mystical mumbo jumbo, he's still here. I know it.

I'm a late to bed, late to rise person, so I almost never see any time in the 6AMs. But three times in the past week, I have awakened at exactly 6:50 am. Even though each time I felt oddly refreshed upon awakening, I managed to go back to sleep two of those times. But this morning was different. 

I think most people who knew my brother wouldn't blink at the notion that, if he were to return in spirit, he would, at least, be a little mischievous and, more likely, a full-on pain in the arse as he tested the limits of this new-found "power" of his. He was never really a practical joker, so much as he was a joker. And a poker. 

So, anyway, this morning at 6:50 am, my smoke detector buzzed. Then it buzzed again a minute later. Then it buzzed again. Figuring this would continue at intervals throughout the day, I just got up and changed the darned batteries. Then I started my day, got all my deadlines done and had time to take a nap before writing this and going out to do family obligations. 

The rational "thinking" mind says the batteries were dying because I'm a bad homeowner and the batteries died and it was just a coincidence that it happened on this day at 6:50am. Truth is, I was supposed to change them at "spring forward" and didn't. I won't deny that.

The High Priestess tells me that it's no coincidence at all, however. Just as it's no coincidence that there were 6 of us and now there are 5 and I've woken up at 6:50 three times in the past week. I smoked cigarettes for 26 years and even now, nine years quit, I'm still extra careful around candles and incense and whatnot, based on the paranoia I developed from the threat of poorly extinguished butts. My brother was a smoker who died of lung cancer. And it was the smoke detector that went off. 

One of my medium friends said she has many clients who wake up at the same time every night. And spirits have told her that it's them and that the person is awakened by the changing energy in the room. Of course there are more rational explanations for this, I'm sure. But I "know" different. And I'm pretty sure I can hear my brother laughing his ass off about the smoke detector in heaven as we speak.