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Jolinda “Josi” Case is a Spiritual Counselor who uses Tarot and Astrology (among other tools) as forms of divination. She is an avid and vigorous student of the esoteric. Josi has a great deal of experience in assisting people through major life changes such as death/dying/grief through counseling.

Josi’s main motivation is to empower others by assisting them to connect with and express their most true and authentic self. She also strives to give people the authority to feel comfortable in the pursuit of their personal Spirituality.

Josi’s formal education includes collegiate level degrees in Communications, Business and Psychology. She is also an ordained minister. In her free time (HA!), she writes a weekly column for her local paper (The Greenup Beacon), blogs on her site Shock Therapy and relaxes with her husband (“Ox”), three grown boys, two grandsons and pets (Prince, Mercury and Perseus).
 
Most recently, Josi has bonded forces with Dixie Vogel of A Fool's Journey to produce a monthly show they call Woo Woo Wonderful. The purpose of the live broadcast is to empower others with knowledge of Spirit and Mysticism.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Pressurized

We all are. I keep telling myself that. But, there are actually some out there that are completely oblivious to it. It amazes me that more and more people care less "why" things are happening..but that is another story.

Let's talk about being pressurized and how it affects us. First, it boils those emotions right up the the surviace so that it takes much less stimulus to evoke them. You may fluctuate happy to sad; mad to laughing; it's unpredictable and so quick that it becomes harder and harder to control.

But you can control it. And you should, says Cardinal person, I.

And this story will illustrate why.

I like to go for drives on my lunch break. It lets me get the wind in my hair and get back in touch with the elements after spending my morning with the computer, phone and all the over communication we currently deal with in the US. My drives are a time for me to release some focus and tension, let my hair blow and listen to whatever music I want as loud as I want. And..sometimes that urges me to drive faster. Not good.

Today was no different. I had my drive and for some reason had chosen a classic country radio station (and..I hate country music) to listen to and I was pretty mellow. Not going to fast. But, I approached a four way stop in front of a hospital. Now, 4-way stops are a thing for me. I like to watch people go through them because if you catch it at the right time it works so haroniously around here. People are typically curteous and take their turn instead of cutting through really quick. It's nice to see. But, today there was a lady that flat out cut me off. She didn't even stop and she wasn't even going fast. She...just...came..through..the...intersection..at..her..own..pace..out...of..turn...and I WAS TICKED! I mean, I'm Libra and you were just rude---bitch!

Then, I caught a glimpse of the driver through the driver side window. She was maybe late 40ish. Her head was leaning on her hand and it looked like she barely had her other hand on the steering wheel. She was crying. Through tinted windows I could tell that something wasn't right. It just wasn't.

I had this irresistable urge to turn around and go after her. And I thought, "Are you crazy? What would you do if someone turned around and just started following you after you cut them off at an intersection. Are you trying to get shot?"

No, I wasn't trying to get shot and I listed to the warning from my subconscious but I didn't heed it. I turned around immediately and caught up with her. I was behind her at a redlight. So, I got out of my car while the light was red and went to her window.

It didn't even phase her. I would have pissed my pants if someone did that to me. She just looked at me with this blank hollowness that immediately made me want to cry.

I didn't know what to say, so I just started talking.

"Hi, you cut me off back there."

no response

"When i saw you go by, I noticed that you were extremely upset and I can see that I was right by looking at you now."

no response

The light is going to change Josi!

I know I know

"Look, I don't know you. But I feel that there is something wrong and there may be something I can do to help. If not, just tell me to go away."

"Can you drive me home?" the first thing she said to me.

this time, I said nothing

"I was just discharged from the hospital. I live alone. My husband and I were in a car accident several days ago."

"You live alone? Is your husband still in the hospital"

"no"...as she fell over the steering wheel in uncontrollable sobs.

o...m...g

I opened her door and took her hand and led her to the passenger side of her car. Then, I got in the driver's side and pulled her car over to a church parking lot.

The light had changed by now, and this was not a side road..it's a busy intersection. People were pissed. No worries, I told them where they could go. After I parked her car, I left her to go retrieve mine. Then, I drove back to her car as I called the police. After I called the police, I called the hospital and asked for the chaplain. After I talked to the chaplin I talked to the nursing supervisor. The police, the nurse and the chaplain arrived at about the same time and I watched as they spoke to the woman about her situation and how they could help etc. The policeman had a tow truck pick up her car and he drove her home. The nursing supervisor was abhorred that her emotional needs were not attended to during her stay. The Chaplain arranged for grief support and followed the police officer to her home.

I went back to work.

You may be pressurized. They may be pressurized. But we are all in this together. You might want to remember that.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Remember..

Have you ever tried really hard to remember something? A detail, the curve of someone’s smile, the sound of their laugh, the smell in the air the last night you saw them. So hard that you closed your eyes and meditated only on the small piece of memory that you could muster? I’ve begged my psyche, “take me to that memory, take me to that moment, just let me be there for the smallest second. Then sometimes it really works. Imagine, if you will, you are riding passenger in a car, your eyes are closed but the brightness of the street lamps still passes through your lids marking your distance. Orange warmth dilating your pupils under the small flaps then darkness..almost at a rhythmic pace. Flash..flash..flash..that is how the memories come back to me.

The wind carries the smell of honeysuckle and dew and the grass is wet and cool under my feet. The buckles on my leather sandals jingle, just a little, as I walk through the large open field under a cover of complete darkness. Complete darkness except the veil is pierced with millions of little sparkles. It is as if the Lady Night has adorned her best shimmering dress for us on this midsummers night. Above me, the dress lays motionless with only its adornments twinkling to the music made by the night creatures. Tree frogs, crickets, a rain crow --- who is mispredicting the weather because Lady Night’s dress holds not a single rain cloud. Nothing but pure blackness resides behind the sparkles.

For a moment I ponder the peacefulness, but during that time in my life, pondering was fleeting. My feet find pavement and I stop to replace the jingling sandals back on my feet. My skin is still tingly from a day in the hot sun, feeling as if I should emit my own light from the rays I had gathered during that day. I wander farther into the darkness with not one thought of fear about what may be lurking in the dense shadows of the trees that line the road. Only anticipation..and a mist of adrenaline that followed me as I crept from the window of my bedroom. My parents slept in the room upstairs with a loud fan that drowned any sound from my bedroom below. They slumbered peacefully never knowing of my adventures.

I could barely see in front of me beyond twenty feet. And sometimes the eyes play tricks as they try to adjust to the darkness. But I believe I see motion, another figure emerging, approaching, coming nearer to me. Again, no fear..but my heart rate does speed up in hope that it is the figure I’m seeking. A new smell and large rattle…hot oil being pumped from the well to the right of me, and a busy oil rig not discriminating against the time. The smell is gritty, earthy and familiar. Telling me I am almost there.

The figure is beginning to grow in front of me and the motion is deliberate. The shapeless blob of blackness transforms into an almost recognizable figure walking, stepping closer at a steady pace. It is who I am looking for, no one else would be wandering the road at this hour of the night, this a few minutes beyond midnight. All responsible people lay sleeping and dreaming of the next days work. Summertime in the country was no time for laziness. There were fields to be tended, animals to be fed and watered, and the people of this area rested hard after a day in that life.

Close enough now, I can see blonde curls and blue eyes with the hint of a crooked smile. I’m sure my mouth is curved in response. I know we spoke to each other. We talked all the time, about dreams and the future, anything we could think of to chatter about. But right now, the words escape me. I can only re-project the feeling of the dewy air against my mildly sunburned skin, the smell of the wet grass and oilrig, and the sounds of our serenading creatures. Oh and the stars, that were always burning a constant glow, even on this night when there was no moon.

Woosh..flash..there it is. The curve of his face, the smell of his hair…oh but only just for a moment. If I were an artist I could surely grasp that image and splash it on to canvas, but instead I must rely on the memory of my mind’s eye to recall without the luxury of being able to stop the memory at just that moment when he came close enough on that night to make out his face in the darkness. Just a flash, a glimmer..then darkness.

He turns and we begin walking in the same direction, hand in hand now. His hands were always so strong and he held on to mine firmly. I could feel the calluses from his day in the hay field with his father. He always worked very hard. But that never made any difference to my father who loathed the boy. I never understood why. But now, with a teenage child of my own I know the sickness that comes to the pit of your stomach when you see that look in their eye and know that again you will have to let go just a little bit more. It makes a parent dread the sight of their child’s object of affection. And perhaps there is a pang of remorse as you realize you are no longer the center of their universe.

Quietly we pad our way further into the darkness until we find the small slightly overgrown trail that will lead us through the trees. It looks so magical at night. Much different than its daytime appearance. I had walked the path at both times and found the paths night appearance to be much more enchanting. Sometimes, when the moon illuminated it just right, I could almost make out Shakespeare’s Puck peeking from behind the trees. On this moonless night, it seemed as if Puck was hidden well from my eyes. I was glad I had walked the path so often, because I couldn’t see more than a few steps in front of me.

We followed our senses to the end of the path that opened into a large opening in the trees. Here we found the warm waters of the pond waiting. The songs of the creatures grew louder. Maybe on this night we didn’t speak, I can’t remember a single word. Not even a giggle, just the chirping the constant and steady chirping that silenced only for a moment as we drew closer to the water. I could feel the creatures looking upon us determining what we were and our purpose. Silencing themselves for protection, until they realized we meant them no harm. And then, their song would begin again.

The water sparkled under the reflection of Lady Night’s gown. But upon the water, the Lady danced. The water rippled and her gown flowed as if she were entertaining at a ball, swirling and churning to the song of the creatures.

Woosh..flash…again..his face a short smile that held the impishness of a dare followed by a small splash as he entered the water. Ah, I remember my giggle in response, as he knew I would never turn down a dare. My sandals jingled once more against the moist dirt surrounding the water. Quickly my clothes were draped upon a tree limb.

The water slipped across my shoulders like warm silk. There was not even a chill, it was so smooth and soft as if residing in a large bathtub. Was a bit of an eerie feeling, not knowing what lies below you in the water or above you in the air so I only focused on one thing. Swimming closer to his body to find his eyes again. And there they sparkled like the stars upon the water, waiting, smiling..and then..it was gone.

Sometimes memories just come in flashes like that, uncontrollable of the quantity no matter how hard you try.

Namaste Moon

Robust and generous, he shines from his seat in the sky.
“Do you remember me?” I plead.

The last air of summer enters into my lungs
The breeze catches my breath, warm wafting across my shoulders, barely brushing my cheeks.

“What is it, my child, you wish to say?” he replies between puffs of cumulous clouds.  

A flutter skips through my heart at the mere thought of what words I could choose. “I know you can see right through me, friend, and you know more than I wish for you to tell.”

He returns with a smile and wink as he peeks again from the changing night sky. “I would not betray you, little one. Tell me what you wish.”

“Could you deliver a message from me, to someone who makes my eyes shine almost as much as you?” I can feel the blood rush to my cheeks in a quick fervent blush. The night air feels fresh and cool against the rising heat upon my face. “There are so many things, but first don’t tell him, he invades my thoughts, during sleep and waking hours. Don’t tell him, beyond everything I see are his eyes staring back at me. Don’t tell him, my feet no longer touch the ground. Don’t tell him, the pain in my heart is from waiting for the next word from him. Don’t tell him, I am thankful for every minute that our paths may intertwine and that no matter how long we have…minutes, days, or years…I will not forget the first moment.”

“Then, what is there left to say?” His silvery teeth glimmer at me in the darkness.

I breathe in again, slowly, trying not to allow my thoughts to become too lofty. This is important; I must have some footing. The air escapes my chest in a long slow sigh. The clouds dissipate as I stare at this promising shining orb. And my voice returns, “Just, say ‘I am here.’ Let him hear me whisper his name, because I’m afraid to say it out loud. As if this may be a dream and the shudder of my own voice may awaken me. Just tell him through his heart, my guide, and nothing more.”

I await a response, as the first raindrop lands softly upon my face. Mimicking a tear, it rolls across my cheek. The coolness sears my skin. Finally, with his eyes shining brightly, the Moon responds, “Shelter yourself; this will be done. You have my word.”

With that, he was engulfed and gone. Only a small spear of light escaped between the ominous covers now spattering their cleansing drops all about. The dry Earth softens beneath my feet. “My trust is in you, Namaste Moon.”

Illuminating the Carnate


I don’t know why I chose these words as the title for this entry. Maybe I just like the way they sound together. But it gives the impression, to me, of shedding or pouring light into the embodiment of the present. All too often we worry so much about the future or dwell in the past. We forget to embrace the moment, the today.

Last night, I wandered into the humid night air just after sunset. Directly to the west of my front porch is a dense tree line. It is good that the foliage is dense. Plant life in my area seems to be flourishing this year after our first mild spring in what seems like a decade. The summer is upon us now, but even it has been welcomed. Although the air occasionally is dense with stickiness, the temperatures have not surpassed 95 and have even often dwelled right in the 80’s. This has been unheard of during the last few summers when the heat sent thermometers spiraling over 100 degrees before noon. Nice..

For a moment I gazed upon the tree line. Even though my house is situated in a suburban neighborhood, most of the residents are retired and have settled quietly in their beds by 9 pm. This leaves a serene silence on my street. The darkness is un-pierced by street lamps. The only illumination is the faint stars peeking from behind the cloud cover. And tonight, the fireflies are dancing in the dense trees. Almost as if Christmas has entered the balmy June night; their fluttering is reminiscent of a decorated twinkling pine.

I watch the tree line often, for our weather typically approaches from the west. I can determine what is heading my way by the way the branches move. The sun also sets behind them. Brilliant colors gleam between the branches creating an unusual glow. Tonight, the trees are silhouetted by a quiet lightening storm. I estimate it to be several miles down river, because of the absence of thunder. Faintly, I catch the whisper of the incoming rain.

The lightening caresses the cloud cover alternating from blue, red, pink then purple. Combined with the tiny flicker of the fireflies in the tree line, it makes for quite a show. A show I may not see tomorrow and I have not been present for before. Illuminating the carnate, the currentness, the now, the moment, today.