Welcome to The Mystical Underground

Back in 1989, I co-authored a book on color divination with Tony Grosso, a psychic who typically asked his clients to quickly–without thinking about it–name five colors. From their choices, he was able to give them a detailed reading. Tony was short in stature, barely five-feet tall, but a head above many psychics in talent. Clients came back again and again.

At some point, he put together a booklet, called Color Me Psychic, that described his personalized definition of various colors. The problem that developed, though, was that the repeat clients who had bought his booklet learned the meanings of the colors and came to readings prepared with the colors that they thought were right for what they wanted. Tony was able to work around that problem by using other psychic talents, including his own method of handwriting analysis in which he asked clients to sign their names. He would rub the fingernails of his thumb and index finger over the signatures and read the person’s life. He always looked dazed when he gave readings, as if he were in a trance.

And these readings were weirdly accurate.

When I met Tony, he had moved away from his color readings, but he’d given me a copy of his booklet and showed me how it worked. From there, I came up with the idea of creating a divination system in which anyone could use his color scheme for readings. He liked the idea and we settled on using the concept of five colored cubes.  The cubes overcame the problem of pre-selecting the colors you wanted. I wrote the proposal and it sold to Ballantine Books. The Rainbow Oracle was published in 1989 as a hardcover book in a box with the cubes along with a velvet drawstring bag.

For the rest of Tony’s life, The Oracle served as a platform for him in his seminars and workshops. He personally sold a lot of books. Meanwhile, I moved on to other projects.

The reason I’m recounting this story is that twenty-four years after it was initially published,  The Rainbow Oracle is out again as an e-book with Crossroad Press. Of course, an e-book doesn’t come with colored cubes, so I’ve revised the book slightly, providing readers with methods for creating their own colored cubes. In fact, the You Tube video below shows how one reader created her own cubes.

Katrina Joyner actually formatted the book when I was considering bringing it out with Smashwords. She was fascinated with the oracle and started sharing color readings with a group of friends who get together regularly. Her enthusiasm shows in the video and she carries on for quite a while before getting into the nitty gritty of readings and creating colored cubes. Near the end, she finally holds up a copy of the original book in its box that we had sent her after finding out how much she liked it.

Besides the video, you can find a detailed description of the book here on the Kindle site.

When we e-mailed her to let her know the post would be going up on 9/12, she replied that the date was an interesting synchro: My blog is set to advertise  the book on the 12th. I’d actually changed the date a few times.

Twelve years later, where are we?

Bush and his cronies are history, Saddam Hussein is dead, Iraq is probably still in chaos. Even though we’re told the U.S. is outta there, we’re still in Afghanistan, we may or may not go to war with Syria, the NSA has unprecedented power to spy on Americans…in short we seem to be caught in Orwell’s 1984, which should read 2013. Or 2014.

A dozen years later, we have elected our first Afro-American president, and certain paradigms of thought are gaining a foothold in consensus reality. Paradigms like: we don’t need perpetual war to thrive (the majority of Americans and of the U.S. Congress are against a strike on Syria); we don’t need to be the world cop; we create our reality from the inside out; ET is here; we’re all intuitive/psychic; we are more than our physical selves.

In just a dozen years, our attitudes have shifted dramatically. We seem to be more open to synchronicity, spirit communication, the roles that our animals friends actually play in our lives. In just a dozen years, a paradigm has begun to emerge that we are all connected somewhere within Indra’s net, so that what impacts you also impacts me.

Yes, the Mideast is a powder keg,

Past life researcher and therapist Carol Bowman contends that some of the people who died in the 9-11 attacks are returning with vivid memories of what happened.

Consciousness researchers are taking a deeper look at how energy may function.

In the end, 12 years after 9-11, we seem to be moving ahead in the development of consciousness, but we’re moving at a snail’s pace. I sure hope the pace picks up!

 I have been very happy the last few weeks. My Nika has been visiting and she really appeals to my wild side, that part of me that enjoys breaking rules and modes of behavior…well, just because. She and I don’t always succeed on these ventures, our humans are wise to us, but when they’re distracted, we can get away with squirrel hunting that is truly beyond the pale.

When our car pulls into the dog park in the late afternoon, Nika is usually leashed because our humans know she will head wherever the squirrels are – which is usually away from the dog park, in the open land to the south. So as they restrain her, I sneak out the back door and take off toward the dog park. She then strains to join me and if there are no other dogs entering or leaving the park, the human who holds the leash is nearly dragged to the pavement and releases her.

She tears after me and we race around through the trees just outside the dog park, where the squirrels often chitter and chat and laugh about all the dogs. We show them a thing or two, Nika and I do, leaping up at their trees, nearly climbing their stupid trees. And when Nika gets fed up with them, she flies to the south, to all that open land, her leash slapping the ground.

I can only follow her so far. I don’t run as fast as she does and always, within me, is the collective voice of my humans, calling me back, to the park, to treats, reminding me that retrievers retrieve, that they return to where they are supposed to be. Once I do what I’m supposed to do, Nika makes a very wide circle and joins me and we enter the park, free of our insulting leashes.

So while we race along the periphery of the fence, where there’s an overhang of branches and leaves from the outside trees, our humans sit around in the shade with others of their ilk and talk and talk. Syria, food, weight loss, job hunting, horses and polo and the interminable heat. Today, here in the shade, it’s 95 and feels like 111, that’s what some weather app on a human phone says. I’m grateful some human has brought in a pool; I plop down in the cool water, and gaze across all the green and sunlight at Nika, who has dug a hole and climbed into it, panting.

I know that Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq are places far from here where horrible things are happening. But why should these wars be mine? I only want to chase squirrels and be with Nika. I want other dogs to run and play and chase squirrels and find their true loves; I don’t want them to starve or flee their homes.

The human Prez talks about how there must be consequences for violating international law. This has something to do with the use of horrid chemical weapons. But how can ‘surgical air strikes’ act as punishment when only those who are NOT responsible will be killed? I feel the human despair and rage and hopelessness about this. But it’s not my war. Just show me the squirrels. Just let me run and dream and wear myself out so that at the end of the day Nika and I are zonked, settled in, gone for the night.

Yet, tonight there is hope that Russia is offering an out. That’s a good thing, right? It offers the prez an out from his line in the sand, right? Yes? Do I hear a YES that war will be averted? That it MUST be averted?

 Ghost Radar is one of the coolest apps I’ve run across. It supposedly detects energy fluctuations in your immediate environment that may be paranormal phenomena – ghosts, spirits, or other entities.  

From the FAQ that comes with the app: “It has been suggested that paranormal energies manifest themselves through the Quantum Flux or are an aspect Jung’s collective unconscious. Regardless of the medium through which the energies manipulate electric devices the resulting manipulated readings seem to indicate intelligence on occasion… It’s believed that paranormal energies have the ability to influence electrical equipment. This idea comes from the concept that matter, life, soul, and life are fundamentally an electrical phenomena.  The app provides a set of parameters for paranormal energies to manipulate which are then processed as graphical, textual, and audible readouts.”

The app comes with a radar screen that shows the fluctuations in the environment as blips. The red blips are the strongest signals, followed by yellow, green, then blue. Over 2,000 words are programmed into Ghost Radar, so paranormal energies can also use words, the audio part of the app. In the above image, you can see the red blip on the radar screen and the word speech to the left of it. That word was spoken aloud when the red blip appeared.

I walked through the house with the phone – and, later, my iPad – and got a few green blip readings. The first synchronicity happened when I walked into Rob’s office to see if there were any fluctuations. A red blip showed on the radar and the word military came up. Rob and I looked at each other.

“Your cousin John,” I exclaimed.

His cousin, who died several years ago, was career military.

Okay, maybe it was a fluke, I thought, and walked outside with my iPhone, but nothing showed up on the screen. It supposedly has a range of about 50 yards. I got distracted by the dogs, who were running around, playing tug-of-war with a toy, and couldn’t stop smiling at how much fun they were having. Suddenly, the Ghost Radar said, Smile. I began to wonder if there could be a telepathic aspect to this app, too. It was definitely a synchro – a word was spoken that precisely described what I was doing.

I started toward the backyard, which is dense with trees and plants, and headed toward the spot where we buried our beloved cat, Tigerlily,  three months ago. A red blip appeared on the screen. I walked faster, watching the blip instead of where I was stepping, and my right foot sank into something wet. When I looked down to see what it was, the Ghost Radar said, Wet. Another synchro. Fortunately, the wetness was just a depression in the ground that was saturated from rain earlier today.

 Now I’m eager to try Ghost Radar in a cemetery (in daylight!) or at some local spot known to be haunted. For just 99 cents, this little app may prove to be most intriguing.

I have been very happy the last few weeks. My Nika has been visiting and she really appeals to my wild side, that part of me that enjoys breaking rules and modes of behavior…well, just because. She and I don’t always succeed on these ventures, our humans are wise to us, but when they’re distracted, we can get away with squirrel hunting that is truly beyond the pale.

When our car pulls into the dog park in the late afternoon, Nika is usually leashed because our humans know she will head wherever the squirrels are – which is usually away from the dog park, in the open land to the south. So as they restrain her, I sneak out the back door and take off toward the dog park. She then strains to join me and if there are no other dogs entering or leaving the park, the human who holds the leash is nearly dragged to the pavement and releases her.

She tears after me and we race around through the trees just outside the dog park, where the squirrels often chitter and chat and laugh about all the dogs. We show them a thing or two, Nika and I do, leaping up at their trees, nearly climbing their stupid trees. And when Nika gets fed up with them, she flies to the south, to all that open land, her leash slapping the ground.

I can only follow her so far. I don’t run as fast as she does.  And always, within me, is the collective voice of my humans, calling me back, to the park, to treats, reminding me that retrievers retrieve, that they return to where they are supposed to be. Once I do what I’m supposed to do, Nika makes a very wide circle and joins me and we enter the park, free of our insulting leashes.

So while we race along the periphery of the fence, where there’s an overhang of branches and leaves from the outside trees, our humans sit around in the shade with others of their ilk and talk and talk. Syria, food, weight loss, job hunting, horses and polo and the interminable heat. Today, here in the shade, it’s 95 and feels like 111, that’s what some weather app on a human phone says. I’m grateful some human has brought in a pool; I plop down in the cool water, and gaze across all the green and sunlight at Nika, who has dug a hole and climbed into it, panting.

I know that Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq are places far from here where horrible things are happening. The humans discuss it.But why should these wars be mine? I only want to chase squirrels and be with Nika. I want other dogs to run and play and chase squirrels and find their true loves; I don’t want them to starve or flee their homes.

The human Prez talks about how there must be consequences for violating international law. This has something to do with the use of horrid chemical weapons. But how can ‘surgical air strikes’ act as punishment when only innocent civilians will be affected? Maimed? Killed? I feel the human despair and rage and hopelessness about this. But it’s not my war.

Just show me the squirrels. Just let me run and dream and wear myself out so that at the end of the day Nika and I are zonked, settled in, gone for the night.

Do you think the world might be a better place if our main enemy was squirrels?