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Skye Thomas is available for life coaching.
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The Joan of Arc Complex
Sometimes I think that I have a mental health problem and that at any minute the
pharmaceutical companies are going to develop a cute little green star-
I have spent a lot of years analyzing the heck out of this topic. Here are the eerie facts. I have no control whatsoever as to when and how THEY show up. I am absolutely convinced that THEY are something separate from my ‘Higher Self,’ my imagination, or any part of me. I have no influence over THEM and what THEY believe. THEY have a higher accuracy rate at predicting my future than most of the psychics I know. THEY refuse to ‘serve’ me and do not require that I ‘serve’ THEM. We are both free to end the relationship at any time. Therefore, I believe THEY are real.
I have spent a lot of time trying to figure out who or what THEY are. When I ask, THEY typically just chuckle and say something cosmically vague like, “We are the light before it shines, the medicine before it cures, the song before it’s sung.” Yeah great, that helps a lot, thanks guys. I have come to a place that for my own personal understanding and for the ability to be able to even talk about it to others, I call THEM angels. It ‘feels’ accurate. THEY are not opposed to such titles. Apparently, THEY have been referred to as such for quite some time now and THEY seem to think it is a rather quaint concept that we have used to wrap our heads around the idea of them.
So, I hear angels telling me to go out and do good works. More than half of my articles
are really their messages. I find myself sometimes in awe of the things that I write.
Sure, it is all stuff that I think or believe, but often I did not even know that
I knew that stuff until it came out of me. It is like the book on overcoming fear
and doubt caused by our inner-
A few times over the years, I have concluded that I was some type of schizophrenic and that I needed to shut up and stop doing this stuff or I would surely end up in a pink padded room. I’ve quit many times for fear that I was making it all up in my head and that THEY were not real and I was just having illusions of grandeur. Every time I quit, my friends and acquaintances would unknowingly begin suggesting that I do whatever it was that THEY had just told me to do. “You should become a writer and write these stories for people! It would really help a lot of people.” It was as if THEY were whispering in people’s ears telling them what to say to me. To make matters worse, I always missed being the kind of person that THEY say I am – a healer of sorts. I really tried to be smart and logical and to get a real job in the industry I was formally educated and trained to do. It really sucked. I just could not get into the flow of it. I could not find success or happiness doing anything else but this save the world stuff. “Teach them how to be happy. In doing so, you’ll find your own happiness.”
I know there are people out there like me. I’m not alone. Are we making a difference?
Do the weird things we teach really work? Do crystals have healing powers? Can
the many religions be united into one root concept -
I also know there are people out there who are nothing like me. They are the majority. They believe their version of god is the only version that matters. They believe only in what their five senses can see, hear, and feel. If science cannot prove it, then it is not real. We are all just a bunch of quacks you know.
Even as I write this, my heart swells and I feel so blessed to do this work that THEY have asked of me that I am moved to tears. If you knew me, you would know that I really hate that sappy crying in public stuff. It just goes to show how deeply touched I am by the fact that I get to do this. So, like Joan of Arc, I hear these voices and THEY tell me to go do these great things, and I listen and I do them and people seem to like it, to be helped, to be touched on a soul level. If I am crazy, please don’t give me that pill. Let me live to my dying breath believing in THEM and that I am doing the work of angels. Don’t cure me.
Copyright 2004, Skye Thomas, Tomorrow’s Edge