Last week I invited people on FaceBook to pick a number between 1 and 365 to get a reading from my book The Compass. (There are 365 readings in the book.) Belinda picked number 86, ‘Be true to yourself’. Here’s the full reading: 86: BE TRUE TO YOURSELF WHY? How else can you be true
My son, Euan Gray, is a singer-songwriter and tenor sax player. When he was a young child, he dreamed he was walking along the road when he met a famous sax player, his idol at the time. In the dream, Euan asked the secret of his success. The famous sax player lifted the lapel on
Here’s a reading I’ve chosen for you at random from my book The Compass. There are 365 readings in the book. This is number 223: 223: RELEASE THE FUTURE WHY? Your future is in better hands when you are fully alive to the present. CLARITY How much time do you spend thinking
“I hear there’s a giant iceberg heading your way,” said Phyllis, sitting comfortably in Texas, chatting over skype. “Iceberg?” I queried, baffled. Phyllis is my guest on this Friday’s podcast, and we were warming up to record the show while Michael was setting the recording levels. Also warming up, I now know, is a 19
Looking for insight? Read your waking life! Just as you can interpret a dream, you can interpret your waking life. After all, it’s YOUR waking life: you’re the one creating it and responding to it, so it is a unique reflection of everything you are. Your waking life is a perfect manifestation of your conscious
Today I was honoured to receive the first ‘dream catcher wristlet’, a signature piece, designed by Wendy Dugan of Sanctus Stones, to enhance dream recall. One of the stones featured in the piece is prehnite, a pale green crystal with darker green streaks suspended below the surface, like seaweed. Nested amongst seed pearls, amethysts and
This morning, I sat in the bow end of a small speedboat, my back to the direction of travel, as we idled along a broad river. A perfect cooling breeze, a heavenly way to start the day. An elderly man sat on the riverbank, singing the boat into motion. This was a dream, of course.
He was tall and rivetingly handsome, striding towards the ocean, wearing a new, seafaring sweater and carrying something under his arm. What was it, an inflatable raft? “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the raft. Or was it a set of bagpipes? He looked bewildered, as was I by now, but an old lady behind
“Oh, that’s good, I like that,” chuckled Michael, indicating the car in front of us as we were driving home yesterday. “Angst is attitude.” “Uh?” “Angst is attitude.” “A new angle to an old twist, an appealing je ne sais quoi,” I agreed, appealing to my je ne sais quoi for an explanation. (What on