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July 2009 Archives
Click on the links below to listen to Nan's online podcast stream.
1st Hour 9pm - 10pm EDT 2nd Hour 10pm - 11pm EDT 3rd Hour 11pm - 12am EDT
Photo: St. Patrick's Cathedral
As I walked down the streets of Midtown Manhattan, the summer skies above the city were laden with heaviness. Clouds darkened and rain threatened. I still had several blocks to walk, and finding myself without an umbrella, easily fell back into the rhythm of my "New York stride."
I headed west on fifty-first. Five blocks to go. I looked up at the sky and a small splash hit the center of my forehead. A few steps more and another drop lightly grazed my cheek.
"Not yet!" I thought, hurrying, "I'm almost there and then the heavens can open for all I care, but please, not yet!"
Just as I started to walk past St. Patrick's Cathedral, I uneasily eyed the heavens yet again. No raindrops. I could make it. I started to rush forward when all of a sudden as I began to pass the side door of the church, I felt compelled to stop. I looked up at the door, torn between the practical side of me and the intuitive.
I felt like my feet had grown roots and were keeping me planted firmly by the stairs leading to the entrance to the magnificent edifice, and everything in me said I should go inside. I simply had no choice; so, I obediently climbed the stone steps and swung the heavy wooden door outward.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimly-lit interior. Hundreds of people, the melody of their voices from different languages a quiet symphony beneath the towering stone and stained glass windows, milled about in reverent awe. Men, women, and children sought the refuge of the wooden pews, some genuflecting before kneeling on the red-tufted prayer bench.
Still standing near the entrance, my attention was caught by a young woman in the third pew in front of me, leaning forward and resting her head on the back of the pew in front of her. A guitar case was beside her. Her clothes were worn. Her breathing was shallow. I could feel her pain and despair.
I walked to the center aisle and tried to enjoy the quiet and the beauty of St. Patrick's, but peace eluded me. I felt drawn to the young woman to my left. I knew I was supposed to do something, but didn't know what to do. Everything in me wanted to reach out to this young woman, to comfort her, and to tell her that god had not abandoned her, but I was hesitant to intrude.
"You know why you're here!" I heard in my head. And so after a few moments, I got up and started to walk toward the door, telling myself that when the time came I would either know to leave without saying anything, or I would know what to say.
When I was even with where she was sitting, I could go no farther.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" I said quietly. She did not respond. I found myself continuing, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I felt I had to tell you that I am sorry for your pain, and that God loves you and is there for you, even if you feel abandoned by everyone else."
The young woman looked up, her face streaked with leftover mascara and tears.
"I was just sitting here praying and asking God why he didn't hear me - but I guess he did."
And with that, we shared a smile; and as I went back out the side door, the sun shone brightly as I walked down the street; not a raindrop in sight.
Intuitively Yours,
Nan O'Brien
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Photo: © 2009 Joanne Delabruere for Nan O'Brien
Our family vacationed in Cape May point, New Jersey every year, a tradition that had started with my grandparents. The summer of 1961, I was almost three years old. We drove to our family's shore house and after unloading the car, headed straight to the beach. My mother had put my six-year old sister, Jan, and me in matching red tank suits so we were easy to spot in the water, and had slathered us with suntan lotion to protect our young skin from the sun. I was so excited! This was the year I was allowed to go into the water's edge alone - under my parents' watchful eyes, of course.
I learned how to dive into the waves that year. My much wiser sister taught me the rules: first, she said, you had to stand on the mound of sand at the crest of the beach, leading down to the water. Next, she explained, you had to "choose" your wave by calling for it out loud - "that's my wave, the second big one coming," and the like. Jan, being the older sister, always got to pick her wave first. Then, she continued, you ran and dived head first into the water with your arms straight over your head, before surfacing and making your way back out of the swirling foam, up to the rise in the sand to do it all over again. We ran and dived into the water for what seemed hours that day, as my parents stood on the water's edge, carefully watching their little ones.
My sister had raced into a wave and I stood alone in the sand, watching, waiting, for the perfect wave, when suddenly I saw it! A big, rolling wave heading toward the shore.
"That's my wave!" I yelled to no one in particular, but wanting to play by the rules.
I ran as hard and fast as my little legs could carry me. But, the closer I got to the wave, the bigger it got, looming up like a monster about to crash onto me! I suddenly realized that this wave was much bigger than I had planned on - I didn't want this wave at all, even though I had claimed it! Scared, I turned around just as I reached the water's edge, and tried to run back up the hill, to the safety of the sand, away from the powerful water reaching higher into the sky and lunging toward me.
I still remember the feeling as the power of the wave caught up with me, smacking me from behind, knocking me down, pulling me under, sand scraping my legs and salty water filling my mouth. I tumbled head over heels in the white froth at the edge of the beach, when suddenly I felt my father's hands pluck me from the swirling mass. He knelt down to my eye level as he gently wiped the sand and tears from my face. I was inconsolable, crying, shouting, sputtering, "I hate the ocean! I hate the waves! I'll never go in the ocean again!"
He smiled, knowingly, calming me down, holding me close, and then he looked me eye-to-eye as I continued to whimper. "Nan, let me tell you something. when you're running down the beach toward a wave, no matter how big it is, the worse thing you can do is turn around and try to outrun it - it will smack you from behind every time. What you need to do is run as hard and as fast as you can and dive right through the middle - and then you will come out the other side, safe."
As I grew up, I often thought of my father's words that beautiful, sunny day at the beach. So often in life we have a large wave looming in front of us and we want to turn away, run away from it, not deal with it. But inevitably, the things we avoid are the things that knock us down from behind - and we never see them coming.
Intuitively Yours,
Nan O'Brien
For more information about me and my work, please visit
www.NanOBrien.com.
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1st Hour 9pm - 10pm EDT 2nd Hour 10pm - 11pm EDT 3rd Hour 11pm - 12am EDT
Photo: © 2009 Joanne Delabruere for Nan O'Brien
As the sun slowly descended below the horizon, the sky over the lake changed from a brilliant red to streaks of lavender, and finally, to deepest midnight blue. Stars began to peek from behind quickly-moving clouds, seeming to corral around the majesty of the full moon, whose reflection danced across the water in ribbons of floating light.
The crowd gathered on the beach became slightly restless, glancing upwards expectantly, as small children raced around giggling, splashing at the water's edge. The scent of mosquito spray hung in the air, mixed with the lingering aroma of grilled meat, ketchup, and potato salad.
As if on cue, the hum of many conversations simultaneously lowered to a whisper, when suddenly from the opposite shore came the sound of quiet thunder, as a smoky arc climbed gracefully into the air, and as all heads tilted upward to watch, an explosion of color burst across the heavens, followed by gently-falling spirals of light. A chorus of unrehearsed "Oohs" and "Aahs" rose up and - as quickly - fell away, until the next thunderous launch began. Each display was more brilliant than the one before, whether individual twinkling stars of light, or short, generational bursts of spidered reds, greens, and blues.
While those around me continued to look up, I felt myself drawn not to the brilliance of the heavens, but to the light shining from the faces of those around me. There were old people and young people; parents and children; groups of teens; and groups of one. my mind began to wander back to other fourth of July fireworks displays, and it occurred to me that in this celebration, I brought with me a timeline of my own life: cookouts hurriedly finished when I was a child, so my parents, sister, and I could all pile into the car to go to a local park. The first time I went with my boyfriend, instead of my parents; the first time I went with my husband, instead of my boyfriend; and shortly thereafter, how I took my own children to celebrate our country's birth, starting the cycle once again, as so many had done before me.
In that moment on the moonlit beach, there were not differences among us, we were all connected through the history of the celebration of our own personal lives; observers if you will, of not only the beauty before us, but witnesses to our own independence and growth that was reflected through the light within us.
So, as you go through the coming week, I would ask that you hold onto the joy and celebration of this holiday weekend, and that within that embrace, you hold fast to the celebration that is your life!
Intuitively Yours
Nan O'Brien
For more information about me and my work, please visit
www.NanOBrien.com.
Dear Nan,
I am writing because I don't understand how to handle a situation about my five-year old daughter, Amber. Starting about six months ago, every time she is visiting with someone else, like spending the weekend with my parents or my husband's parents, I am almost in a panic that something is going to happen to her. My friends tell me I am over-protective and that I need to let go. I know it's irrational, but I can't change how I feel. Can you please help me?
Thanks,
Joanna
Dear Joanna,
As a mom of four myself, I understand how your heart can feel conflicted when your child is away from you. However, the level of fear you are experiencing, and your awareness that the feeling is irrational, does seem to be something beyond a typical mother's concern for her child.
I disagree your feelings are a result of being over-protective. My sense is that you and Amber have experienced being mother and daughter before, and that in your prior lifetime something happened to Amber when she was not with you. The fact that this fear only began a short time ago relates to the age at which it happened in the past lifetime. It's as if your soul has drawn a correlation between being a mom to Amber and the trauma of what happened to her before. Your soul is trying to warn you of harm; the problem is, the harm is behind you and not ahead of you.
Knowing that this sense of impending disaster is rooted in a past-life experience may help you by giving you a logical reason for your feelings, an alternative to the belief this is a premonition of harm to come. It would also be helpful for you to prayerfully ask that what is behind you stays behind you; and that you be free to embrace and enjoy the experience of being a parent to your daughter in this lifetime, since you did not have the opportunity to do so before. Once your soul sees that Amber is healthy beyond the age of her past-life trauma, that should also calm down some of the fears.
Sometimes, looking behind you clearly can give you clarity looking forward!
Nan
√ ∙
Checkpoint: When we experience irrational fears in a lifetime and cannot point to a reason why we have them, it's a strong bet that the root cause is found in a past lifetime event. The fears can be about others, such as Joanna's feelings about her daughter, or they can be for ourselves. For example, a person who drowns traumatically in one lifetime may be afraid to swim in the next. A person who has died from falling off a cliff may be afraid of heights, or even specifically avoid mountains or cliffs, even if being in situations around other heights is ok.Why does this happen? The soul is trying to protect you from harm, not interfere with your ability to function in this world. It is saying, in effect, "Don't do that! Remember what happened the last time? Stay away! Stay away!" which is intended to help you. The problem is, we do not have a conscious awareness of the prior situation, so we are left with the strong feeling of "don't" or "fear" without knowing why, and that only creates more problems!
We all have things that invoke fear in us, but when the fear is irrational and specific - and when it is so intense it gets in the way of how we function or relate in this lifetime - then a past trauma is often the reason. Through prayer, meditation, and the conscious awareness of the source of the fear, you can do a lot to reduce and even eliminate the irrational block in this lifetime. Be proactive and work toward reprogramming the message, vested in the now and not in the past.
Until tomorrow, I am
Intuitively Yours,
Nan O'Brien
Do you have a question you'd like me to answer in my daily blog? I'd love to hear from you! Please email me at
Nan@IntuitivelyYours.net.For more information about my work or my nationally-syndicated radio show, please visit
www.NanOBrien.com.
