Sunday, January 10, 2016

Let the Spirit-Freak Out to Play

Imagine an academic embracing her metaphysical side. It is challenging to say the least. My left-brain is warring with my right. My need to quantify, cite, and eliminate the adverbs and adjectives is killing the vibe of the airy fairy in boas and pearls, flinging pixie dust and running barefoot through the grass. I am an award winning college professor who truly believes she can speak with the dead. I cannot, for the life of me, do a psychic reading without feeling that I am pulling the information out of my ass. Each half of my brain dons its gloves and readies itself to spar. “I feel your dead grandmother coming through.” “Oh, yeah? Give me twenty studies that show a spirit can even DO that.” “I feel you are soon to meet someone who will become a key figure in your life.” “Anecdotal evidence. Your opinion. Generality.” Can you imagine? I’d like to leave my body, put them each in their corner, and go have a cup of tea.

I quit my job recently as instructor of psychology. I am thinking about starting a business as an intuitive counselor. “A psychic? You want to be a psychic?” “Intuitive counselor. A more accurate term.” “Just a fancy way of saying you have no credentials to be a licensed counselor and, worse, you’re going to botch it all up by combining the psych with stuff that doesn’t even exist.” Do you see my dilemma here? How am I to acknowledge either without relegating the other to death?

I have received praise and validation for both my ability to lecture and convey a thought as well as my gift at guiding through communication with those in other realms. I can feel my former colleagues cringing right now, shaking their heads, readying to burn me at the academic stake. At the same time, as I publicly pronounce my intuitive gifts, I feel my angels and guides shaking their heads, saying it’s about damn time. A girl can’t win for trying.

This is the thing. For fifty-two years I have stuffed the ghost whisperer side of me into the closet and chained the door. Friends will ask, “What is that noise? Is there somebody in there?” “It’s nothing,” I say, and go on about my business as if it is completely normal to have this part of me pounding and screaming and trying to get out while I just smile, cue up my PowerPoints, hand out the syllabus, and announce the first exam. Well, baby. Time to let the Spirit-Freak out to play.

And time to stop calling her names. My academic brain needs to quit trying to legitimize my artsy, creative side. Both are worthy. Both are real. Besides, the world would be rather boring if we had nothing but eggheads walking around, comparing data, honing their skills. We need free spirits, holistic thinkers. We need to throw a little glitter into this world. It just makes life more interesting. More balanced. More real.

So what’s a girl to do? She is to look herself in the eyes, acknowledge who she is, and then own that as much it might scare her to do so. Will people make fun? Will they point and stare? Will they jeer and throw stones and ridicule to no end? Yes. Yes, they will. Will she do the same to herself? Very likely, she will. Regardless, it is to the benefit of all that we each be who we came here to be, that we affirm the plan we laid out for ourselves before we entered this incarnation. I have seen many transform their lives into lives of joy and love when they set aside what they feel others feel is right for them. I have seen them come alive when they run toward that which their heart knows to be true. We must do more of this. We must do more. “Anecdotal. Your opinion. Generality.” “Oh, for the love of God. Put a sock in it.”

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