angels

Friends, 
Angels? Do you believe they walk among us? I sure do!
Read this and see what you think.
xox

As we rushed out through the smokey maze of the Casino at the old Sahara Hotel in Las Vegas, it suddenly hit me that he had once again forgotten to give me my show bonus. The monetary incentive he used to physically wring me dry.  

The realization stopped me in my tracks.
F*#&!

We had just finished a week-long, Estate Jewelry Show.
I was bone tired from being on my feet for over twelve hours a day—in heels, and to add insult to injury, our plane reservation left us no time to eat before the flight home, so to top it all off—I was hangry.
In other words—I was in NO mood for any fuckery!

We had grossed over one million dollars—in a week. The two of us. And I was about to fly home empty-handed, once again.

You see, I had a boss who hated to pay me. He just did.
And no carefully scripted notes or heartfelt talks, or angry outbursts on my part had done anything to change that.

I had coached him repeatedly on the merits of showing respect. It wasn’t difficult, all he had to do was pay me. And not make me ask for my money, which I HATED.

What would this be, the third time that day I’d had to ask him for my money? I was quite familiar with this humiliating power play, and I was sick of it! Listen, I had done everything I could think of to sidestep this idiocy! Even after years of his bonus structure consisting of whatever loose cash he had in his pocket, not his fat, overstuffed money clip mind you—but his pocket change, I had won one hard-fought battle by finally getting him to agree to a pre-set bonus amount.

“Why are you stopping?” he bellowed back at me impatiently. His aluminum wheelie suitcase, a rectangular R2D2, skipped from wheel to wheel, trying to keep its balance. I could’ve sworn it looked in my direction with a help me face.

He continued his frantic march through the casino toward the door.

“I’d love to get my bonus before we leave?” I asked for the third time, running to keep up. I knew that if I let it slide, even for a day or two, the odds of getting it would become so slim even a Vegas bookie would pass on that bet.

I wasn’t sure he’d heard me until in one fluid motion, he swung to the right, deftly executing a wide, sweeping, u-turn back in my direction. Still in motion, he reached into his murse (man purse) and dumped a handful of gambling chips in my direction. Surprised, I reached out with both hands in time to catch most of them. Several of them did make a break for it, the slippery little buggers rolling on their sides underneath the dollar slots nearby.

“That should cover it,” He insisted. “Now hurry up, we don’t want to miss our plane.”

I stood there red-faced and flabbergasted, knowing that he’d left me no time to cash them in. Quickly, I shoved the chips in my purse and proceeded to get down on my hands and knees to see if I could retrieve the ones that had made their escape.

A pot-bellied, middle-aged woman, with a cigarette with two inches of ash precariously dangling from her lipstick-stained lips, was straddling two stools in front of three slot machines. Without ever looking away from the rapidly rotating numbers she was counting on to change her life, her foot kicked the chips my way, like a bedroom-slippered hockey stick.
“Uh, thanks” I mumbled, crawling around on the ground in my skirt and heels, totally in awe of her unbroken focus.

“Janet, let’s go!” He chided from inside the automatic revolving glass exit doors before turning right to join the cab line.

I could hear the damn plastic chip clattering together in my bag as I ran to catch my flight back to LA.

In the hour it took to get from Vegas to Los Angeles, I began to seethe with rage.
Not only had he made me repeatedly beg him for money he had literally thrown poker chips at me in lieu of my bonus! I had never felt so disrespected. In. My. Life.

I don’t know about you, but when I get in touch with that level of anger, I have a tendency to burst into flames tears.
Hunched down in my middle seat toward the back of the plane, I cried and cried and cried. Big, wet, sloppy tears.

I decided I would rather die, covered in honey and tied on an anthill than take the prearranged ride home to Park La Brea with him and his wife. What I knew for sure was that someone was going to die if I got in that car with him. And I was way too overdressed to spend a night in jail.

As we exited the terminal, the crowd spitting us out onto the curb, I spotted his wife’s car to the left. Without making a sound, (or so much as an indecent hand gesture) I made a beeline to the right, jumping into a single cab that just happened to be waiting there for me.

The moment the door shut and we pulled away—I freaking lost it.

I began to ugly cry, complete with gasping for breath and rivers of snot running down my face.
There I was, trapped in a horrible working situation with no solution in sight. What do you do when you ask someone repeatedly to treat you with respect and they blatantly disregard that request?

I know what you’re thinking, quit! But I couldn’t. I had the kind of career everyone wanted. Travel, great pay, jewelry, prestige. Which led to a lot of financial obligations, AND I was thirty-seven and single. Wahhhhhhhhhhhh. That sad truth made me cry even harder.

As we wound our way through the late-night traffic on LaCienega, I spotted the dark, soulful eyes of the cab driver, staring at me in the rearview mirror. His deep brown skin, white turban, and singsongy accent gave away his country of origin. India.

“Beautiful lady, why you cry?” He cooed.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, I’m just feeling so sad,” I boo-hooed. “I don’t know what to do.”

I watched his eyes search my face in the mirror as I inadvertently wiped snot into my hair with the back of my hand.
“Beautiful lady, don’t be sad, it can’t be that bad,” he murmured in his soothing, heavily accented voice.

“Ohhhhhhh it is, I think I hate my boss…he doesn’t show me any respect…he paid me with…”

I started to wail. Loudly. “With, with, poker chiiiiiiiiiiiiips!”

I grabbed a couple out of my bag and tossed them onto the front seat for dramatic effect.

“Beautiful lady, you have God’s respect and that’s all that matters.”
“Really? I  mean, I guess…”

At that moment, the cab came to a slow, rolling stop in front of my high-rise apartment building.

Since I had cried the entire ride home, he had to wait as I scavenged around in my bag for cab fare. In the meantime, the lovely man retrieved my suitcase from where I had launched it, the driver’s side backseat, opened my door, and wheeled my bag inside the lobby, depositing it in front of the elevator doors. When he returned to the cab, I had composed myself enough to hand him his fare, including a generous tip for being such a good listener.

“Here you go, thank you for being so kind to me,” I said sheepishly through the tissue that was attempting to wrangle my false eyelashes back into place.

“Oh no beautiful lady, you keep that. This ride is on me.”
And before I could even argue with him, he pulled away into the dark Los Angeles night. As I watched his tail lights fade into the distance, I realized a couple of things that were not normal. And they gave me goosebumps.
They still do.

Number one: I never told him where I lived!

I just got in the cab and fell apart while he drove me home — to Park La Brea, a literal labyrinth of apartments, turnabouts, and one-way streets. My friends refuse to pick me up lest they never find their way out. Even with my best directions, many a cab driver has made a wrong turn and been spit back out onto Wilshire Boulevard.

Number two: There are ten high rises inside that complex. How is it that he had managed to navigate all the twists and turns and one-way streets and deposit me right at my door?
I’ll answer that. He was an angel. My angel. Plain and simple.

When I finally managed to come out of my stupor, slowly walking inside the lobby, I noticed he had propped the elevator doors open with my bag. Getting inside I was stunned to discover he’d also pushed the button to the ninth floor!

My floor! How did he know?

I really, truly believe that angels are everywhere and only show themselves when we need them.

THAT is the story of my Angel in a Turban.

Carry on,
Xox

Recently, I’ve been finding feathers all over the place, so in my search for meaning I came across this handy, dandy feather interpreter. Keep your eyes open for feathers (if you pay attention, they are everywhere.) Collect them, and then consult this chart.

Carry on,
xox

*This is where I keep most of the feathers I’ve found.

Dedicated to everyone who’s lost their pet.

Well…you’ve just read about the loss of my beloved cat, Fraidy.
What about Teddy? What happened to that portly, needy, stay at home fella?

Our friend who was taking care of the cat(s) told us Teddy had been his ever-present self while we’d been away, meowing for Fraidy, but grateful for the extra attention.

The day I returned from Palm Springs, to my new life “after Fraidy”, as I got out of the car, I remember noticing tufts of white fur dancing in the breeze all over the front yard.

We entered the house from another door besides the front, otherwise we would have seen it.

The next morning, after Teddy hadn’t come home all night, (maybe he’d seen Fraidy get killed and was traumatized, hiding; we surmised) I thought I’d go down the street calling his name – so he’d know it was safe to come home.

That’s when I saw it. There on his chair on the front porch, signs of a struggle; cushions askew and fur – everywhere.

I screamed for Raphael and we followed the trail. Tufts in the bushes adjacent to the chair, bigger tufts past the driveway and close to the sidewalk (what I’d seen the previous day) all leading to a ridiculous amount of fur in a circle on a neighbor’s front lawn. It was obvious, something horrible had happened there.

I was scream-crying, hands covering my face.

no,no,no,No,NO,NO!…

“Go back to the house Janet.” Raphael was looking around in the bushes, another neighbor had joined him.

“I’m not kidding, GO BACK!” He yelled at me.

“What…do…you…see? Is…he…there? Is…it…Teddy?” I was crying so hard the words were spaced between sobs.

He walked over and hugged me, turning me around, aiming me back toward the house. “GO HOME, NOW.” He didn’t yell, he said it with a quiet authority I’ve never heard in his voice before – or since.

I zombie-walked back to our front porch collecting the fur, Teddy’s fur, along the way.
By the time Raphael came slowly walking back, shoulders slumped, head down, I’d collected three large double hands full.

That’s my Teddy Bear, I thought, remembering a fight I’d broken up years before, in the middle of the night. I had leapt out of bed, woken up by that cat screaming that sounds like babies crying and I KNEW it was Teddy.
I ran stark naked out into the backyard, following the screams, yelling his name, until he made a beeline, running past me back inside. I pulled him out from under the couch and checked for blood, there was none, but he was covered head to toe in sticky, wet saliva.
He ended up having puncture wounds in his neck, under all that thick fur, that abscessed, battle wounds of a VERY close call.
The vet thought it was probably a possum. In the week that followed he had to have drains put in and wear the cone of shame, and his late night battle had taken its toll, that chubby, black Siamese face turned completely white. It took a couple of years to return to its normal color.

Bottom line – Teddy was a fighter, I could see he’d put up a good fight.

I’ve asked my husband many times since then, often in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep, “Did you find Teddy in the bushes that day? Did you see him dead?” His answer is always the same, “no”, but I’m not sure I believe him.

In the weeks and months that followed, I grappled with my grief and my guilt. I felt that if I’d been home I could have saved my boys. I can still feel it as I write this.

I turned to my spiritual practice to help me cope with that kind of loss. I read books and talked to whomever would listen, and the consensus seemed to be this:

Our animals are little angels that share our lives and shower us with unconditional love.

They hold or balance our energy, licking our tears and climbing into our laps when we need them the most.

We will see them again someday.

All of that gave me comfort.

It was also explained to me that since my life had recently changed SO dramatically, it was okay for them to go. I had gotten both cats as a single, working woman in an apartment. A lot had changed; I was married, in a house with a dog and I’d just quit my job of twenty years.

“They held the energy of your old life” a wise friend told me, “it’s okay for them to go, you’re not alone anymore, your life could not be more different. Bless them for getting you here.”

That was in 2006; and I’ve since noticed that when anyone around me loses a pet, their life is going through some kind of transition; a baby, a move, change of jobs, marriage, illness, empty nest, divorce, something that sends the silent signal “It’s okay to go.”

So when you lose that precious pet, if you can crawl out of the hole of despair for just a second, you’ll be able to see it too.

They carried you as far as they could go – and then they handed you, or will hand you, off to someone new.

I get that system. I don’t like it, but it makes sense to me, and I harbor the hope of seeing all my furry friends on the other side.

What a great day THAT will be.

Big kiss with a wet nose,
Xox

* I haven’t told many people this story for obvious reasons. Let’s just keep it between you and me.;-)

Perhaps the shortest and most powerful prayer in the human language is help.
~Father Thomas Keating

Men show up at the foot of my bed. I can’t help it, it’s a gift.

No, really.
Once, when I was living with my sister and a roommate, a “drunk as a skunk” friend of my roommate’s boyfriend got lost on his way to the bathroom, and I woke up to find him at the foot of my bed, mumbling incoherently – with no pants on.
If I’d had a gun, he’d be dead. And THAT is the end of my anti gun story.

The second time it happened was even weirder, if you can believe it.
It was during the time of my spiritual awakening, so I was living alone on the ninth floor of a high-rise, crazy, mystical shit was happening, and I felt like hell.
I had my pocket shaman, his team, and pennies in my shoes to keep me grounded.
I wasn’t sleeping much, but when I’d laid down to try, I would beg God or whoever was on duty that late at night, for peace of mind.
My prayer was always: Dear God, please help me to handle this.
Someone told me that prayer was magic, so I would whisper it softly, every night, and wait for relief.

One particularly bad night, after I finally managed to nod off, I was startled awake by some commotion at my window.
I actually had a whole wall of windows, which looked out over the Hollywood Hills and the double towers of Century City. The view at night was ridiculously stunning, (if I had been able to appreciate anything at all), and because I was up so high, nine stories, I never closed the blinds.

I heard the rattling and scraping, but in my stupor I had incorporated it into a dream.
When I finally did open my eyes, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
I blinked. And blinked. And blinked again.
Then I tried to jump up…but I was paralyzed.
There, looking me straight in the eye, as he made his way one foot, then one arm, then sloowwwwly the rest of his body – was a man.

“Am I still asleep?” I was asking myself, still blinking and trying to move.
My mind was racing and my heart was pounding.
“Was it the drugs? Oh yeah, I’m not on any.”
“This can’t be real, I must be hallucinating.”

Never once breaking eye contact, the man walked ever so deliberately to the end of my bed.
Something was wrapped around him as he crawled though the window, it looked like a cape. Once he came to a stop, facing me; with a bit of dramatic flair, I saw the glistening of snowy white feathers, and I heard a very distinctive swooooooosh as he unfurled the most massive set of… wait for it…wings!
They were enormous and majestic with their etherial,shimmery,almost iridescent feathers. I’ll never forget the sound of them. Have I mentioned how huge they were? They filled the room.
The wings definitely made an impression.

He was an angel. At the foot of my bed.

“Oh it’s an angel – well, that’s okay, um, wtf? NO it’s not! What does this mean? Shit. It can’t be good.” (Sample of my train of thought at the time).

I was scared, but I can’t say I was terrified. You have to remember, some weird shit was going down in my life at that time on a daily basis, but this? This took the cake. A visitation. Like right out of the bible. Not to be irreverent but, Holy cow!
How did I rate an angelic drop in? Surely, he had better places to be, like the Vatican, in a war zone, with the dying…’uh oh, am I dying?’

I was still paralyzed but wide, wide awake. I’d never been so awake in my life. I was almost hyper aware.

“What would help you feel less afraid?” He asked in his manly, telepathic angel voice.
“My cat” I answered in my mind. (for the love of God, why didn’t I say George Clooney?) I had given my cat to my sister because I was traveling so much back then, and I missed him desperately.

As fast as you could say abracadabra, Moomie was on my pillow, purring his trademark motorboat purr in my ear. I could move my hand up to touch and hold his furry paw – but only my hand. Believe me, I tried to make a run for it.

Then I fell asleep.

What?! I know. I couldn’t believe it either.
I hadn’t fallen asleep that fast for months…and there was an ANGEL AT THE FOOT OF MY BED.
What can I say? His presence was actually very comforting, and with that angel telepathy he was reassuring me, telling me I was safe and everything was going to be okay.

I woke up a couple of times and looked toward the end of the bed, and there he was, standing vigil, wings spread out wide, showing off. That surprised me. He must have drawn the short straw, and been relegated to pull an all-nighter.

I wished I’d asked questions. I’m sure I must have, it IS my nature, but I don’t remember any conversation between us, only his reassurance.

The next time I opened my eyes, the room was light – and he was gone, my angel intruder. So was my cat, darn it.
But I felt rested and safe and somehow…special.

It was a turning point in my awakening journey. I started to feel better. I would pray to HIM every night now. For comfort, for peace, for a return visit.

So far no such luck, but occasionally I feel him. We have a “thing“.

Sending you angel love,
Xox

PS. I went to the library (pre-computer) and looked at books about angel visits, you know what makes the biggest impression on everyone? Yep, those wings.

Listen to it:
https://soundcloud.com/jbertolus/angl-at-the-foot-of-my-bed

Once upon a time, angels descended onto a beautiful planet to play in physical form.

That planet was Earth.

Trouble was, as gorgeous as this place could be, it presented a certain kind of unexpected danger to these playful angels.
They were so used to being non-corporal, that they made unwise choices, tons of them, in the thrill of the moment, which led to hurting or actually destroying their bodies.

Shit, I hate when that happens.

So a call went out and a brilliant plan was devised
.
This plan involved enabling an aspect that would accompany the angels into the physical.
It would relate so completely to the body that it would protect it at all costs.
For all it knew, it was ONLY the body; it couldn’t remember that it had ever been an angel.

Like an unseen bodyguard, it did a really admirable job.
Angels stopped jumping off cliffs without bungee cords and breathing underwater. They developed concern for the wellbeing of their vessel.

This invisible bodyguard is called the EGO. Its operating principal is fear.

Fear is what keeps us alive.
Useful, I would say; one hell of a plan.

To a point.

After awhile, tens of thousand of years to be exact, the beloved EGO started to feel the effects of emotional pain in the body as well.

To the EGO pain is pain, so, like any good bodyguard, the EGO triggered fear of this pain, so it could be avoided at all costs.

Skip to the present, and these angel’s adventuresome, joyful and playful spirits have been hijacked by the EGO.

You can’t blame the guy, he’s programmed to keep us alive and block us from any pain, but in the process, as our bodyguard, he has stepped out in front of, and blocked so much joy. All because it looked like it was attached to some potentially dangerous feelings.

The moral of the tale is this:
The Ego is NOT your amigo.

Do NOT make the EGO your wingman. He gives shitty advise.

He is your bodyguard, not your friend. And as such, he views every situation through the lens of the ever vigilant secret service agent of your life, scanning each situation for threats.

Life, love, it all looks dangerous….to him.

He’s not a bad guy, he’s just doing his job, keeping us away from ANY and ALL pain.
His job description, from the beginning was to keep us alive, but what kind of life is it when we have become imprisoned by him……through fear. 

Now that you know the story, put him back in his place, tell him to lighten up, drop the earpiece and dark glasses and let you live your big, bold, beautiful life.
Give him some vacation time, a day off.

If you get hurt in his absence…..so be it, at least you’re having some fun.

Wasn’t that the point?

Did this change your perception of the Ego? Even just a little bit? Do you believe in fairy tales?
Have a great weekend!
Much love,
Xox

Winks From The Universe
Don’t you love it when the Universe takes time out of her busy schedule to wink at you? I do.

The medium she uses the most with me, is license plates.

I live in LA, basically on the 101 freeway, so that makes sense. She uses billboards or the side of taxi cabs in NY, a song in Nashville and digital clocks and our phones anywhere.

“Psssssssst. Come over here; no, here. Look. Listen.”

If you pay attention she’ll answer a question or just show you she cares.
With a freaking license plate. The personalized ones can be scary good.

I was driving to the Y Saturday morning, with a bunch of ideas playing hide and seek in my brain, I looked up and Voila! To a writer, that is the Holy Grail of coincidences.
Think about this: The amount of coordination, synchronicity and just plain WTF involved in sending us the perfect messenger, and then making us look up and pay attention.

Blows me away…….every time.
I see groups of three numbers all the time. 444 is my favorite. It’s my lucky combination. The Universe also gets my attention with 143. 143 is a very sophisticated numerical code my family uses for I LOVE YOU. Can you figure it out? You’re all geniuses. 😉

When my sister’s son got too old to answer her “I love you” at the school drop off, and still maintain his cool points with his friends, he WOULD turn around and flash 143 with his fingers. That much he could give her.

My husband is obsessed with Universal winks.
He texts me all the time how many triple numbers he’s seen.
He expects to see every one, like a straight in poker. That’s a perfect day for him. A Universal sign that he’s on the right track.

He also loves 11:11, sees it ALL the time, LIKE I KNOW A LOT OF YOU DO. Eleven and 22 are his lucky numbers.

If you’ve always wondered what these number combinations mean, here are the meanings according to Doreen Virtue, who is kind of the “Angel Number” guru. She’s written MANY books on the subject. See if they apply or resonate to what your seeing and what’s going on in your life now.

Be on the lookout for your next wink, don’t make the Universe go to all this trouble for nothing.

111 – Monitor your thoughts carefully, and be sure to only think about what you want, not what you don’t want. The sequence is a sign that there is a gate of opportunity opening up, and your thoughts are manifesting into form at record speeds. The 111 is like the bright light of a flash bulb. It means that the universe has just taken a snapshot of your thoughts and is manifesting them into form. Are you pleased with what thoughts the universe has captured? If not, correct your thoughts…ask your angels to help you with this if you have difficulty controlling or monitoring your thoughts.

123 — Simplify your life. Get rid of anything that’s pulling at your energy, time, or finances—especially anything that pulls you away from your life purpose. The ascended masters are helping you with this simplification.

222 — Have faith. Everything’s going to be all right. Don’t worry about anything, as this situation is resolving itself beautifully for everyone involved. 

333 — The Ascended Masters are near you, desiring you to know that you have their help, love and companionship. Call upon the Ascended Masters often, especially when you see the number 3 patterns around you. Some of the more famous Ascended Masters include: Jesus, Moses, Mary, Quan Yin and Yogananda.

444 — Thousands of angels surround you at this moment, loving and supporting you. You have a very strong and clear connection with the angelic realm, and are an Earth angel yourself. You have nothing to fear—all is well.

555 — Buckle your seatbelts. A major life change is upon you. This change should not be viewed as being “positive” or “negative” since all change is but a natural part of life’s flow. Perhaps this change is an answer to your prayers, so continuing seeing and feeling yourself to be at peace.

666 — Your thoughts are out of balance right now, focused too much on the material world. This number sequence asks you to balance your thoughts between Heaven and Earth. Like the famous, “Sermon on the Mount” the angels ask you to focus on spirit and service, and know your material and emotional needs will be met as a result.

777 — The angels applaud you… “congratulations, you’re on a roll! Keep up the good work and know your wish is coming true.” This is an extremely positive sign and you should also expect more miracles to occur.

888 — A phase of your life is about to end, and this is a sign to give you forewarning to prepare. This number sequence may mean you are winding up an emotional career or relationship phase. It also means there is light at the end of the tunnel. In addition it means, The crops are ripe. Don’t wait to pick and enjoy them. In other words, don’t procrastinate in making your move or enjoying the fruits of your labor.

875 — The changes you’re making have put you on the right path for manifesting abundance in all ways.

999 — Get to work! The world needs your Divine life purpose right now. Fully embark upon your sacred mission without delay or hesitation.

000 — A reminder you are one with God, and to feel the presence of your Creator’s love within you. Also it is a sign that a situation has gone full circle. 

Do you see triple numbers everywhere? What numbers do you see the most? Tell me a cool song or license plate story. I’d love to hear about it!

Xox