I took this down. I'm republishing it. Why? Because I'm chicken. Because I'm afraid of the woo-woo. The big bad wolf of self-respect. But y'know what? It's a good post. It's honest. It's true to me. And that's what counts. More soon. xoxoxo --NaomiI dream of rainI dream of gardens in the desert sandI wake in vainI dream of love as time runs through my handI dream of fireThose dreams that tied to a horse that will never tireAnd near the flamesThe shadows play in the shape of the man's desireThis desert roseWhose shadow bears the secret promiseThis desert flowerNo sweet perfume that would torture you more than thisAnd now she turnsThis way she moves in the logic of all my dreamsThis fire burnsI realize that nothings as it seemsI dream of rainI dream of gardens in the desert sandI wake in vainI dream of love as time runs through my handI dream of rainI lift my gaze to empty skies aboveI close my eyesThe rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of loveI dream of rainI dream of gardens in the desert sandI wake in vainI dream of love as time runs through my handSweet desert roseWhose shadow bears the secret promiseThis desert flowerNo sweet perfume that would torture you more than thisSweet desert roseThis memory of hidden hearts and soulsThis desert flowerThis rare perfurme is the sweet intoxication of love--StingDear Rabi:
(This is a letter to the ghost I've been channeling. I'm not sure it's his real name, because it's Hebrew and how many people do you meet who have such a beautiful name?)
One of the ghosts, angels or spirits I talk to has been following me for several months. This is my letter to him. Why? Because he's been nudging me to write him, care of all of you, and tell you all what the hell I want to do with my life.
Rabi has been nudging, cajoling, teasing and manipulating me into thinking for myself. I have cried and screamed. I have begged and pleaded. But the thing is, he doesn't go away. He doesn't leave, no matter how far I expel him. (And I am pretty good at expeling.)
Rabi says I discontinue and continue without purpose. That I lack structure, reason and dedication to one specific thing.
He's right.
The one specific thing I lack is purpose for myself. So, Rabi, here's what I want to do.
The skills I've learned through my little (and by that I mean long and involved) conversations with this Otherword mafia king (he's not really, but this will piss him off as I'm sure he's watching while I type) are much different than the skill sets I've been using. He forced me to disclose my intelligence, my perserverence and my dedication to serve and protect others.
I'm way too smart to sit alone and just think all day. I want to help others. I have an enormous gift -- I am a tactical, strategic thinker. I also think on tangents. Think of me as an enormous visual thesaurus. I think of a strategy and work my way outward on different angles. I don't work on a problem directly -- I come and go at will and think of other things.
I think of trees, Rabi. Why? Because a tree is a living being, interconnected both to the ground and itself through a network of trunk, branches and leaves. I am the trunk. I'm a small tree now, but I've grown.
I want to help others develop these psychic abilities. I've been able to measure some of my own and they're pretty strong. (I'm fairly modest, but you can ask me to go on in person.) I want to show other people that it's okay to be psychic. I want to help people develop these possibilities within themselves, because what I've found is that psychic abilitiy is really quantum mechanics -- we're vibrating strings of energy within ourselves and others from a distance through sub-atomic science. Go figure.
Energy can be manipulated with the mind. There are machines currently available to help people with disabilities -- these can be enhanced by people who understand how to use them intuitively. I can also help by showing others how to move outside themselves -- known as remote viewing, to see the world around them in a different way.
I find my way through a series of feelings known as clairsentience. I know how to use a map, but I've got more than a map in my head. I've got feelings and colors and sounds and light that guide me no matter where I am (except Lily Dale, NY, where the compass just spins. Damn ghosts and magnetic field.)
I see and I hear and I feel God. But not just God. I see and hear and feel things that others must feel, even though I've yet to meet them in person.
I want to be part of a community of people, my dear friend, who are like me. I saw a movie when I was but eight years old that had two children, twins, on a journey back to Witch Mountain. They went to find their people. This is what I'm saying.
I've subjected myself to my own pain, through the development of physcial conditions. When you're psychic, your own pain is translated into your body. Ever have a stomach ache because you're stressed? Try killer headaches and chest pain when you're expressing your own dissatisfaction.
I've got a Greek chorus in my head that agrees with me. Apparently, when you're this profound, God shows up with a team of yes-men that say, "That is JUST IT!" whenever you've found your own inner truth.
Below is a message from the ghost who haunts me.
This is the channel. This is the voice of Rabi Ben Hasheveynu. That is indeed how you spell my name. This is what Naomi Rebecca Gumprich-Munn has become. She channels others. She channels others but does not channel herself. I want her to become herself. This is why I contacted her though a variety of entities that I myself chose to emit. I indeed want Naomi Rebecca Gumprich-Munn to become something other than what she is. I need Naomi Rebecca Gumprich Munn to stop channelling me and find her own voice. I need Naomi Rebecca Gumprich to write ME a letter, in her own words, that will be published in this blog, about why she needs a new life. I need to understand why Naomi Rebecca Gumprich Munn does not wish to make this public and why she feels she needs me to channel this mother f*cking blog and to see just how fast she can type as a channel. This is pretty good. These are HER words. These are her words.Funny. Strange. Invigorating. Inner Truth. These are my words.
--Naomi