24 Nov Joining the wackos

I like to pretend I’m not woo woo but between you and me, I’m full of crap.

I poo poo the wackos who unblock chi by ohming into their chakras. I question the motives of the people who take pilgrimages to Dharamsala. I feel sorry for the people who continually plop down credit cards to pay for endless “Harnessing the Law of Attraction” workshops in the hopes of manifesting the BMW they always wanted.

In my darkest, most cynical moments, these poor souls are lost sheep  in search of a shepherd—someone or something who can lead them out of the briar patch into a new, less prickly life. I judge them as irrational nuts but, ladies and gentlemen, the hard truth is—I’m one of them.

Yes, indeed. There is no denying it now because a few weeks back, I picked up the phone and called — wait for it — an Animal Communicator.

AN ANIMAL INTUITIVE.

What, dare I ask, is  woo wooier than that?

J and I shared our cat travails with this lovely woman. She asked what questions we had about our two troublesome kitties, then proceeded to ‘speak’ to them—over the phone! As I sat on the couch with my iPhone to my ear, Lilly & Dash, the four-footed troublemakers, were curled up into their fleece beds, seemingly oblivious to the intervention we were conducting on their behalf. The five of us (three human beings, two felines) talked to one another for an hour. An hour!

Ridiculous, right? Absurd, comical, humiliating, a joke, right?

Well, the  joke is on me because, the damn thing worked. Both problems—Dash’s passion for gnawing on electrical cords and Lilly’s need to lick my hair and paw my face at 1:30, 3:45, 4:50 in the morning until I get up and escorted her to her food bowl in the kitchen—are noticeably improved. Like, for real.

I don’t get it. It’s defies logic. But, after another good night’s sleep, I don’t care that I don’t understand. I don’t care that it flies in the face of everything that makes sense. I am simply grateful that it worked…grateful there are people out there who are brave enough to believe in (and act on) the unbelievable…grateful that I am open enough to the universe’s wonders to explore its outer edges.

Wacky? You betcha but miracles  come knocking everyday—if we’re willing to look for them. For now, a good night’s sleep and Lilly curled at my feet rather than pawing my hair, is all the evidence I need that wackos may be wacky but they are also miracle workers.

Once again, life itself has worked its magic and, day by day, is strengthening my faith.