“Two of the Things I Love Most Were Made in China”

Ten days before Christmas, I adopted two little two poodles from China.   We went to the rescuer’s home to adopt a little girl; while there, a tiny boy snuggled up to my heart and wiggled his way home with us as well.

Now, I cannot imagine not having taken both.   The girl, very fearful at first, has now blossomed and become quite the queen of the pack.   At first, every hand movement caused her to flinch; one can only imagine the horrors and abuse that must have fell upon her tiny body in the meat trade there.

My pack accepted them from the get go.   Now, they run and play together as if no worlds ever separated them.   I can truly say that two “things” made in China are the most beautiful in the world to me.

Some may say there are enough on this side of the world to save….. I have already taken many into my home and heart…..If someone had told me even a week before the fifteenth of December, that I would be mom to two little Chinese fur balls, I would have looked incredulous.  Now, I couldn’t imagine my side of the world without them.

Some asked if language barriers were a problem.   From the minute they walked into my home, it was as if they were born there.   No language needed when one feels love instead of cruel hands, where the taste of good food or a dog biscuit is a strange, new experience.   The moment the flinching stops needs no words, in any language.

My two little ones…….Rusty and Ruby…….made in China, loved in my heart.

Shirl

 

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“No More than 30”

Clutter “expert” or shall I say “declutter” expert Marie Kondo says you should not own more than 30 books.

I agree……you should not own more than 30 books to a stack.   After book #29, the stack gets a bit precarious and tends to topple over onto the floor or your dog.

Thirty books……the last time I had fewer than thirty books might harken back to my Nancy Drew/Bobbsey Twins days; then my mom would not have approved of stacks.   Now, I have shelves and stacks and piles in every room except the bathroom.   I have duplicate copies of some books in print and on audio.

I love books; I recently published my fifteenth one.   That means if I keep a copy of each of my books, (and I do), that leaves only 15 titles amongst the literary world to choose.  I would have to read and rid…..Now there are some books easily part with; there are some that remain friends for a lifetime.

Miss Kondo, the stress of that choosing would be far more horrific than the clutter.   Keep your empty corners; my corners are filled to the brim with wobbly, wonderful books………

Shirl

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“My New Book….Being Different”

My latest book is a very personal story…….I wrote it to help others struggling with these same issues…..

“Being Different: A Guide for Young Empathic Mediums”

Oftentimes, I receive emails asking for advice about gifted children. In the back corner of my mind, I always knew that a book was waiting to tell of my experiences–the blessings and the curses of the double-edged sword in my path as an intuitive medium and animal communicator.That day is here. Told with the sharp bluntness of that sword, my words will, I hope, reach into the corners of anxious minds wondering about their own paths in life. Whether you are a teen trying to understand why you sense things that others don’t, or an adult who has yet to come to grips and shed fears and doubts about your uniqueness, I hope my own words help. For those who travel to the beat of a different drum, the music can be extraordinary; treasure each note along the path of “being different.”

It is available on Kindle and in Paperback at Amazon worldwide.

book cover being different

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Talking to “Ghosts”….

People ask how mediums speak with the Spirit Realm.   There are various ways of communication…..one can hear, one can sense touch or smell, even taste.  One can take on the physical ailments of the departed……though very uncomfortable, the sensations of pain or injury pass once one clears herself of the communication.

For instance, there are certain buildings in Gettysburg, where my home is, that once I enter, I feel the point of pain where a soldier was wounded.  When I leave the building, the pain subsides instantly.

The easiest way I can describe a spirit speaking…….for both humans and animals, is as if one is reading to oneself.
The reader hears the words in her head, the thoughts come through in some magickal connection of the eyes and brain……Perhaps in mediumship, that communication extends to a connection with the soul.

I will see images, sense feelings, perceive thoughts as if I were reading from a diary.

People come to me for many reasons……….

They wish answers,………definite, exact answers.

When will they meet their soul mate, what will he look like….where will they find him?

The departed don’t wish to answer these questions.   They have lived their mortal lives, now they wish for others to live theirs……

The ones left behind must forge their own paths, make their own wrong turns.

What do spirits wish to tell?     Mostly love, forgiveness, a message that only the living would understand to let them know they still watch, listen, share important moments in the lives of those loved and left behind.

Sessions with the departed bring comfort, awareness, and hopefully enlightenment and faith in the concept that energy never dies………..

If any medium promises to give you answers to specific questions about your future, I would make your future be as far from that medium as possible.

If a medium tells you that the conversation should continue on to several sessions……continue on your path away from his or her door.

A wounded heart is a heart easily taken advantage of……..keep your heart open, but also keep your eyes open to any leading questions that will provide a source of information.

I only ask for a name and a photo.  I do not ask any questions, I never promise to have all the answers,  and I do not look into grieving eyes that provide clues as my sessions are done entirely through email …….I just promise to be the channel for any messages they wish to convey.

Learn more about my work as an author, artist, and medium at

http://www.shirlknobloch.com

Blessings for a healthy, prosperous New Year,  remember all those connected spirits who walked in centuries past…….

Shirl

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“How to Banish the Negative and Welcome the Positive for 2019”

I don’t buy into New Year Resolutions……it’s all fine and dandy the first day or two, then old ways creep back into routines.

A better way is to take the time to set intentions……..taking the time to set intentions imprints on the brain much deeper than spewing a few words out of one’s mouth……

And don’t use the computer…….use a good old fashioned paper and pen……that act of joining the mind and the hand will amplify the importance of whatever you wish to manifest or discard.

Make a list……..make it simple.   Just about 5 to 10 intentions, any more than that and the intensity will be diluted as your writing arm and mind grow wearier.

Now, read them aloud several times.   Read them in a quiet place, not by the computer, not by the television,  not by other members of your household.

Now, if your list is intentions to be discarded, rip it into tiny pieces.  You can safely burn these bits or carry them out to an outside bin……the point being, to get them out of your energy space.

If your list is intentions of wishes to be manifested, put them in a special place.   On an altar, in a beautiful journal, folded neatly inside a locket……
Don’t disturb them, just know their energy is there, strengthening your will to make them reality in 2019.   At the end of next year, you can unfold them and see how many have been realized.

And don’t feel bad if not every wish has manifested or not every negative influence has abandoned your energy……feel proud if one or two of your goals have materialized and one negative energy has been conquered…..Would you have remembered what Resolutions quickly passed your lips back 12 months earlier…..probably not.   Will you remember these lists… much more likely.

Peace and Light,

Shirl

 

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“The Snowman’s Christmas”

This Christmas, I thought I would share one of my fairy tales with readers.   This story is part of my fairy tale collection, “Remembering the Magick.”

May you and your children enjoy it and have a Blessed Holiday Season  ♥  If this fairy tale brings a smile to your holiday, please take a moment to comment…..thanks.

 

“The Snowman’s Christmas”

 

Once upon a time, in a village of ice and snow, there stood a snowman.   Quite a distinguished gentleman, with a top hat, knitted scarf, and eyes of sparkling coal, he sat high above the hill and watched the people of the town each day.   It stayed cold here all the time, and so his life was long and filled with years of memories.  He watched children grow into adults with children of their own, all coming to play by his round body on the hill.

 

Each year brought the same excitement and sparkle to his village.  Lights would twinkle everywhere, trees would sparkle like the icicles with tinsel that glittered, and people would hurry by with much to do on their minds.   Over and over, he heard the word Christmas.

 

What is this Christmas he wondered to himself.  How he wished he could move from his hill; how he wished he could slide down the hill on the sleds the children rode; how he wished he could spread his arms and legs and make what all the little ones called snow angels in the snow!  But most of all, he wished to know what Christmas was.   He knew it must be wonderful, for the entire village became kinder.  His village was a very kind place to start, but at Christmas, that kindness grew even stronger with each smile and Merry Christmas greeting he heard each day.

 

But no one told him Merry Christmas.  At night, he whispered it to the stars above.  He whispered it to the moon, and he whispered it to the shadows of the snow angels he saw on the ground beside him.  He whispered it to the giant fir trees that stood around him.   “Merry Christmas, Moon!  Merry Christmas, Stars!”  One by one, he whispered it to all the trees around him.   But no one wished it back.

 

In the moonlight, very tiny icicles rolled down his cheeks.  In the stillness of the night, no one listened.  But if they did, they might hear the softest of sobs coming from the hill.

 

Then, the quietest night came.   It came each year.  The houses sparkled, and all the parents and children were tucked inside early, waiting for Christmas to arrive.  The sidewalks were empty, candles glowed in the windows, and church bells chimed.

 

Suddenly, on the hillside, something very magickal was happening.  The shadows of little snow angels came to life and gathered around the snowman.  They spread their glistening wings and wrapped them around his body.  All at once, he felt himself lifting off the ground.

 

“What is happening?” he cried.

 

“Don’t be afraid,” they answered.  “We are taking you to Christmas.”

 

Before he could blink his shiny coal eyes, he was soaring through the moonlit sky, wrapped in a blanket of gossamer angel wings.   He flew and flew, soaring high above the clouds, looking down on so many villages filled with lights.  He saw other snowmen sleeping on the hillsides.  He saw trees that looked a lot different from all the firs that grew beside him on the hill.  He saw places where no snow lay on the ground.

 

Suddenly, he felt himself drifting downward.  He closed his eyes in fear.  Then, his body came to a soft landing on a bed of straw.  Around him were animals he had never seen before.  Each one said to him, “Merry Christmas!”  This was the first time anyone had ever wished him a Merry Christmas.

 

“Hello, kind snowman.  Merry Christmas!” brayed the donkey.  “Hello, kind snowman.  Merry Christmas!” mooed the cow.  “Baahh! Kind snowman, Merry Christmas,” bleated the lambs.  Around a tiny baby, the snow angels clasped their wings in prayer.

 

It was very warm here, much too warm for a snowman, but the snowman wasn’t melting.  His heart, though, felt very, very strange.  It was glowing like the lights of his village, for somehow, when his shiny coal eyes looked upon the baby, he suddenly knew the meaning of Christmas.

 

“Merry Christmas!” he whispered to the baby.  And the baby laughed the sweetest laugh that melted the snowman’s heart.

Snowman fairy tale

 

© Remembering the Magick

Fairy Tales for Those Lost, Found, or Wandering

 

Shirl Knobloch

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“Not Everyone’s Christmas is Joyous”

This has been a rough week for several of my friends, more than usual. Many lost their beloved dogs this week, so close to Christmas is especially hard. I know. I had to euthanize my Tad only a few days before Christmas a handful of years past.
For me, my years of grieving Tad, and Bobby, and Bram, and Casper and Poppy have eased with my adoption of two little poodles from China. But now my friends face the grieving and I know there is not much I can do to ease their sorrows. The words of friends help for the moment; then, you turn around and see the empty spot where they used to sleep and your heart just cracks a little more.
Some have lost spouses this year; some face difficulties in health and finances that make the tinsel shine with less lustre this December. I remember the first Christmas after my mom died. I would drive past houses lit brilliantly for the holiday and feel nothing but a dark hole inside my chest that no spotlight could brighten.
Reach out to those grieving this Christmas. Yes, the comfort is only momentary. But a moment of lustre might pierce that crack and open it so more light pervades.
Two tiny poodles have brought mischief, playfulness, and trust beyond all odds to my home. I heard a beautiful quote the other day……”What we give away is ours forever.” I think it’s true except for those who toss tiny beings into the streets of any country in the world. “Give away a moment….its time will be in your karma forever.”
Blessed Christmas,Ruby and Rusty
Shirl
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