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’ve been thinking about the meaning of life. It’s the kind of monumental question I used to worry like a terrier with a toy when I was young and that I don’t have time for now that I’m older. But occasionally the question arises: Do we make meaning out of a human need for order and control, or is there an underlying Force working things out in Its own way? I‘ve experienced moments (so many!) when it seems that something–spirit guides, angels, some invisible energy–must be crimping Time deliberately to formulate coincidences.
I remember once being invited to have lunch in Manhattan on the same day that I had Continue reading
It’s almost Hallowe’en again, when we scare ourselves with witches, demons, ghosts and goblins, vampires and zombies, laughing in the face of frightening death; and it seems appropriate to tell a (woooo!) ghost story. I’m a psychic and medium, and like many people I have seen a lot of spirits, some strangers and some familiar, and I’m sorry to report that I have yet to meet a scary one.
I told this story in my book, The Art of Intuition, but it’s worth repeating for those of you who are afraid of dying, who think you snuff out like a candle (sorry, kids, you don’t get off so easy). Often, being in a light trance, I don’t remember what happens in a reading, but this one was so dramatic, unusual and beautiful I can’t forget. And neither will you. I dare you. Try to forget it. And if you do, write and tell me you’ve forgot. . . .
One day when a woman came for a reading, she brought her husband who stayed in the next room. I no sooner began her reading than I was felled by a headache so violent that I thought, “I won’t be able to do this; I’m going to be sick.” Then it came to me that the headache wasn’t mine. “Do you have a headache?” I asked. “No,” she answered. Just then a spirit appeared at me side.
“Oh, there’s a spirit here that wants to speak to you,” I said, realizing the headache had disappeared. “She is calling you Mother. She says you’re her mother.”
“I don’t have a daughter,” she responded stiffly.
“Well, she’s calling you her mother. Oh, and there’s a baby with her, a toddler, about knee high. Maybe a year old.”
“What’s she wearing?” she asked, eyes narrowed skeptically.
“It’s some sort of brown pants suit, not very attractive.”
“Can my husband come in? I think it’s his daughter.” I agreed. Her husband was called in, and the moment he sat down, the spirit flew into his lap and flung her arms around his neck, kissing and hugging him.
To make the story short, the now-deceased daughter had been in the army. A year earlier she had been walking from one barrack to another when she was struck by lightning and killed. She was pregnant. Now she appeared from the Other Side with an infant toddling at her side, and here she was holding her father, hugging and loving him, so happy to see him! He could feel her presence. We all could. We were all three in tears. She stayed only a few minutes, and then she had to leave, return to the Other Side. She took the baby’s hand and disappeared.
What happens on the Other Side of the Great Black Wall? I do not know. There are many mansions in our Father’s House, as Jesus said; and physicists posit not four but 12 dimensions. I think some spirits go to one place and some to another, but we will all have work to do on the Other Side, and much joy. I know that the colors are brighter than on this plane or planet, that music is sweeter and beauty even more beautiful (if that’s possible). I have seen grieving spirits, and wandering, lost ones, and some that are happy and others that are ashamed and regretful (begging forgiveness) of their behavior during their living life, for in those other dimensions, we gain greater understanding, as we develop more empathy, more love, more compassion, until I think there may be nothing but utter and incomprehensible energy, indescribable love. Happy Hallowe’en. Joy on All Soul’s Day.
Sophy Burnham, author of The Art of Intuition, A Book of Angels, Angel Letters, The Path of Prayer, The Ecstatic Journey, For Writers Only, and more.
In Anne of Green Gables (usually considered a children’s book) the heroine knows what to do by seeing a flash of light—meaning “yes!” I write of such things in The Art of Intuition and also in A Book of Angels, but I want to empathize here that we all have the ability to discern with deep listening, “What am I to do next?” and “What do you have to tell me?”
I think the greatest hindrance to intuition (and telepathy, ESP, animal communication, etc.) is your own mind. Reason logic, critical analysis tells us intuition can’t be trusted. And this brings me to something I’ve only recently learned.
Believe, and all things are possible! We are admonished. It’s in the Bible. Everything is possible for one who believes, Jesus warns the man who wanted healing for his ailing child. (Mark 9:3) “I believe,” cries the poor father, and then in anguish, “Help thou my unbelief.”
It gets worse. Continue reading
It’s summertime when we allow ourselves to relax. Work less. Today I offer one of my favorite quotations that I used in my book, FOR WRITERS ONLY – a few words by Arthur Rubinstein on how to be lucky, happy, angel-blessed.
“Yes,” I said, suddenly becoming serious. “I am very lucky, but I have a little theory about this. I have noticed through experience and through my own observations that Providence, Nature, God, or what I would call the power of Creation seems to favor human beings who accept and love life unconditionally. And I am certainly one who does, with all my heart. So I have discovered as a result of what I can only call miracles that whenever my inner self desires something subconsciously, life will somehow grant it to me.”
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.