I’ve chosen that double-dip name for my blog (Sophy-wisdom), first because Sophy is my Christened name, spelt like that, with a “y,” and then because all my life I’ve been straining and struggling to find wisdom.
I don’t write much about angels anymore. To me, they are so commonplace that I might as well write about the air and trees: sometimes I see them shimmering just at the corner of my eye, or as an energy field standing behind a particular person, and sometimes the trick is to recognize them through moments of supernatural generosity.
Not long ago I remembered a story that still makes me burst out laughing with gratitude and joy. Patrick was a high school drop out, unemployed and unemployable. His father had just died, and walking down the street in Providence, Rhode Island, he was grieving the loss and sense of isolation that attends even the death of someone who has been brutal in the past. He was young, hurt, angry, frightened, penniless, alone and inwardly lost, far from his coal mining roots. What was he to do? Where to go? Continue reading
Once when I was a child, hardly bigger than a tadpole, I thought that if I breathed in hard, I could pull in so much air that when I let it out it would bound like bubbles under water, filling all the sky, blue bubbles everywhere, and everything ever born would inhale my breath and breath it into me again, and I thought I’d acquire all the knowledge any of them had – all wisdom –beauty – grace and comprehension –drawn in on the breath of this living breathing earth.
Once when I was so small I could hear the whisper of trees, the roar of rocks, green singing of the grass, when I knew what our dogs were thinking and where the cat wandered when she slithered out at night, then nothing could hurt me except the separating from the whole: which felt impossible.
The Mike Maggio interview with Sophy Burnham, an intuitive and psychic best known for her book, A Book of Angels, has just been published in The Washington Independent Review of Books. The interview can be read by going to http://www.washingtonindependentreviewofbooks.com/features/an-interview-with-sophy-burnham.
Holy Cow! My out-of-print, rare novel, THE PRESIDENT’S ANGEL is now available as an E/BOOK; Yours for $2.99. Stocking Stuffers!
THE PRESIDENT’S ANGEL, a novel of politics and life, with “commentaries,” as seen through the eyes of God.
“Transcendental…” Publishers Weekly
“Sophy Burnham has heard the laughter of angels and fathomed the dark mysteries of the human heart. In THE PRESIDENT’S ANGEL, she has given us a work to treasure.”
Now available on Amazon and at other e/book sites.
For signed copies of any of my books, please contact me at www.sophyburnham.com
The angel appeared in the White House one night with no warning, no blowing of trumpets or rushing of wings. It stood by the President’s bed, radiant, white. Its eyes were pools of love. Its light flooded the President’s bedroom,surrounding and engulfing him. The angel faded without saying a word. But its appearance changed the fate of the world.
All around us flicker the bright lights and carols of happy Christmas. It is the season to be loving, forgiving, joyful, generous, free of resentments, self-pity, fear and anger, but for many people it is a time of feeling lost, lonely, betrayed, and too often deeply grieving the loss of ones they love. How far away the angels feel! Then we cannot even breathe love from the heart, or find our connection to that ineffable light, love, beauty and mystery that we call God (such a difficult word, freighted with the centuries). It is easy to get grumpy: Bah Humbug! Continue reading
I don’t usually talk about my books on my blog, which I’m told is a BIG MISTAKE, because for what other reason does one spend time blogging (they tell me) except to market your own stuff? But tonight on this September equinox, I want to share something delicious. And maybe it will prompt someone to buy my book THE ART OF INTUITION. (There! I’ve done marketing! Now to the good part.)
They (the ubiquitous “they”) have just discovered – not that women have more intuition than men – we’ve all known that for millennia – but WHY! When I was writing THE ART OF INTUITION (aha! Another mention), I did a lot of research, wondering if there is a special intuition node in the brain that is perhaps bigger in women than in men. I remember once dating a man who seemed remarkably dense. A heavy specific gravity, if you know what I mean. We were driving in the car one evening when I asked him, “Are you intelligent?” Continue reading
The Stories We Tell Ourselves
Habit is habit, and not to be flung out of the window by any man, but coaxed down-stairs a step at a time. Mark Twain
Not long ago a friend, Rachel, phoned me in tears. She’d spent all day in despair—a Sabbath, and therefore a full, free day to reflect on how useless, worthless, and defective she was, and, how depressed! It’s not unusual. I know people who would not speak to a dog the way they talk to themselves.
From earliest childhood her mentally-ill mother had instilled the message that Rachel was no good, unloved, fated for failure, even wicked, vile. It was probably the same story that had been told the mother (and therefore mentally ill?), passed down from generation to generation since the Middle Ages. Continue reading