Mystic Nook

Why do we attract people who validate the lowest vibration we hold? Low frequencies have their own language translated by an incoherent dictionary. We attract people who validate our lowest vibration because that vibration is the one still looking for confirmation, completion, or correction. In other words, our highest vibrations are already coherent, and our lowest vibration is an open circuit looking for closure. A low vibration pattern (fear, shame, unworthiness, abandonment, self doubt, poverty) behaves like an open circuit.

A low vibration doesn’t want to stay low. It wants resolution, coherence, and integration, it wants to be healed, it is trying to complete itself so that our higher frequency can emerge. I speak and understand dozens of dialects of the Language of Light, but I can’t comprehend the language that is full of contradictions that are subject to change without notice.

Over the years I have been “accused” of being a gold-digger or even an outright thief by many people in various situations. Oddly enough, this includes the ghost prospector who still occupies the property next to ours. John and I walked the fence line one day and discussed reaching out to the current owners of the acreage to purchase the property for an expansion project. That night I was awakened by an angry ghost screaming about me being a “claim jumper”. When I tried to explain the obvious, that he was long dead, the truth would not reach his mind set or shift his belief.

The accusation is always the same archetype; “You will take what is mine.” It has never mattered to the accusers that I am abundant due to hard work and the people pleaser in me has often used that abundance to try and buy acceptance from others. I could provide receipts, documents, and overwhelming proof that I am not a thief, claim jumper, someone who steals affections, or a gold-digger, but the accusations still cropped up – abundantly.

I was born into extreme poverty and nurtured by generations of ancestors lost in the belief that prosperity was not to be trusted as it can be taken away at any time. This issue is not a “money issue,” not a “reputation issue,” and not even a “ghost issue.” It’s a frequency pattern, and the reason the accusations keep appearing even when the evidence is overwhelmingly in my favor is because the accusations were never about facts.

A frequency never lies; it is also not subject to logic. Vibration is like the scent of p**p or decaying matter to a house fly; it’s attracted to it but can’t explain why. I attract those who vibrate at a matching frequency. They “smell” the unresolved p**p still lingering from childhood and probably past lives and respond accordingly. People respond to the unresolved emotional “scent” I carry not because it defines me, but because it matches something unhealed in them. They respond to their interpretation of it, and that interpretation is shaped by their own fear.

In the time of the Spanish Inquisition, there was zero defense against being accused of being a witch. There was no proof required, and all evidence was spectral in nature; the accusation stood on its own. The accusers were not bad people; they were trying to control the fear within that would not stay silent.

We can spend our lives seeking to prove others wrong, or we can seek healing of the wounds we carry. Proving others wrong is a defense. Healing is a transformation. When we argue to win, we’re usually trying to protect a wound, pride, fear, shame, abandonment, betrayal. When we choose healing, we stop fighting the world and start tending to what’s hurting inside us. It’s not about what is “wrong” with us, but what is this situation telling us about us, what is asking to be healed.

Healing begins the moment we stop fighting ourselves. When we shift our vibration, our life rearranges itself around the new signal. People, opportunities, boundaries, and even our own thoughts start to reorganize. We start to develop a language and translation to close the open circuit. It’s not about forcing change; it’s about becoming the change. Because in the Light, We are all Love.

Where else would we live? Land of Enchantment!

I am frequently asked “what happens to the souls of the unborn children?” Both of my daughters are Rainbow babies, born after the loss of a pregnancy.

Our youngest daughter started life in rare fashion as a Superfetation pregnancy, meaning she and her twin were conceived two weeks apart. Twins don’t run in my family, they gallop.

I was sitting in the car when my water broke, and so much grief, hope, and fear all tangled together raced through my being. I was experiencing my third pregnancy loss.

I rode to the military hospital in Stuttgart Germany in a WW2 ambulance lost in a world of physical and emotional pain. The challenge with being psychic, you know when new life sparks and when it departs, and yet I didn’t understand what I was feeling, Loss and Life seemed to coexist in the same space.

Multiple doctors entered my hospital room, and they were exchanging glances as if they were about to explain I was pregnant with an alien baby. I had indeed suffered a miscarriage; however, tests showed I was also still pregnant. I was told I would likely also lose the second child. I instructed them to do whatever was necessary to fight for this child. It’s the kind of moment that collapses your world into a single instinct, protect the life that’s still holding on.

Our daughter miraculously entered the world heathy and full term. She was completely different than her older sister. She would play by herself for hours, just chattering away to what appeared to be herself.

We never told her about the brother who had all too briefly shared her world. One day when she was about three years old, I asked her who she was talking to and playing with. With the remarkable innocence of a child she said as if it should be obvious, “Michael, my brother.” She never knew he existed or that we would have named him Marco.

Some souls come into the world in a brief incarnation to create shift and send ripples through the timeline. Whether we interpret it through spirituality, psychology, or symbolism, the emotional weight is the same: his brief existence mattered, and it left an imprint.

Michael has continued to grow alongside his sister. Periodically on Mother’s Day I will see “my three sons” on the other side. Beautiful, handsome, and full grown. They have been securely held by our love; past, present, and future.

Losing a child, whether during pregnancy or after birth, isn’t something a person simply “gets over.” It reshapes you. It leaves a silence where there should have been breath, a weight where there should have been warmth. Nothing anyone says can erase that, and it’s important to acknowledge that truth rather than try to soften it.

The loss of a child or any life is not a punishment; it is a shift point. A loss changes the trajectory of a family. It alters how you love, how you fear, how you hope. It reshapes the way you move through the world. That’s a shift, not a judgment.

All souls volunteer to come here, some for a lifetime, some for a moment. We acquire new context only after being broken open; grief doesn’t ask permission, and it doesn’t follow rules. It arrives with its own weight, its own timeline, its own shape. You can’t measure it or compare it or reason it away.

Some pine species need fire for their cones to open. The heat that seems like it should destroy them is actually what allows new life to emerge. It doesn’t make the fire good, and it doesn’t make the loss any less real. It just acknowledges that devastation and renewal can exist in the same story.

Loss pushes us in a different direction, not as a neat lesson or a silver lining, but as a recognition of how profoundly grief reshapes a life. Loss doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t wait until we’re ready. It arrives like a rupture, and afterward nothing fits quite the same way. Even though we don’t choose the loss, we do eventually choose what direction we move in because of it. Not immediately, not cleanly, not without pain, but over time, the experience becomes part of the architecture of who we are.

In the end, only the Love remains.