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Memory Gems

Posted by on July 29, 2020 in Short Stories, Travel | 0 comments

Vintage Carved Jade Pendant The gentleman peered at me through the glass. He asked the proprietor to take me out of the jewelry case. He took me in his hands and carefully examined the curved indentations carved on my body. He studied the gold that encased my teardrop figure. The man looked like he could afford me although he was young. He was handsome too. He asked, “is this gold?” and the shop keeper replied, “Yes, a lovely old piece. Any Jade lover would be thrilled to own such a piece of art.” It didn’t take the man long to decide that the woman he loved would cherish this gift. I later heard my new mistress tell her sister, that the man had used his first paycheck as a new lawyer to purchase me in 1981. I was flattered that he spent so much on me. I am sure my mistress was too. He told the shopowner that I was for the woman who woud be his wife and she deserved a bit of luxury. Mmm. I wonder if she will admire me like the gentleman does. The man paid without hesitation and I was wrapped in fancy paper and put into a small bag. The gentleman gave me to his lady after they shared a special dinner that evening. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her telling her that he had a present for her. Gingerly, she opened the box she had taken from from him and with her eyes wide open, she squealed with delight when she saw me. She held me in her hands and touched me all over my small body. She reached upward on her toes to touch the tall man’s face, “Oh darling, this Jade pendant is so beautiful. Look at the intricate carvings.The shades of green are amazing. It looks vintage.” My new mistress was thrilled. I could feel her love immediately. She held his hand and said, “Sweetheart, this is too expensive, but I love it.” She went into the other room and found a delicate gold chain in her jewelry box and attached me to it. The man closed the clasp around her neck and she scurried to a large mirror in the hallway to admire me. I felt happy and beautiful. The man smiled at me knowing that I was indeed the perfect gift for her. Now I have been with my mistress for thirty-nine years and she has cherished me in many settings the world over. She is telling my story because she has bequeathed me and the jade earrings, the man also purchased for her, to her daughter Sheila. Hopefully, I will continue to be cherished. My mistress seems far away whenever she picks me up to wear on occasion. She generally fondles my shaded green body as she lauds my unique beauty. I sometimes hear her murmur,”Thank you Charles.” Moraga...

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Posted by on January 11, 2016 in Travel | 0 comments

Blood and Soil ~ Blut Und Boden September 27, 2015 The day was cold as we drove north from Berlin about 90 km towards the Baltic Sea. Near our destination we passed a picturesque village turning into a wide lane marked on either side with what looked like poplar trees. Along the way Linden trees also appeared. As we approached my heart was pounding with thoughts of the atrocities that had taken place in the site we were about to tour. I had read Sara Helm’s book, Ravensbruck published in 2015 which was taken from survivors accounts, coupled with her methodical research that documented the existence of the only womens’ concentration/extermination camp in Hitler’s Nazi Germany. Bene our driver slowed the car as we approached the camp. Visually the approach felt like we would suddenly come upon an old estate or a hunting lodge surrounded by forest. Heinrich Himmler had personally chosen this area as he had friends in the vicinity and his mistress Hedwig (Bunny) Potthast had set up housing nearby where she lived and bore two of his children. Himmler visited the area where he could stay with her and visit the camp at the same time. It has been said that he purposefully chose spots of beauty for the concentration camp sites. Instead of a picturesque lodge befitting the area our eyes abruptly were drawn to the left of the road as we came upon an old Soviet Tank standing in front of a brick wall designating Ravensbruck, the woman’s camp. We parked inside of the area and Greta our well informed guide walked us past the large sign and into the compound or large square where the daily apelplatz was held for endless hours in bitter cold sometimes for no reason, while the barefooted prisoners stood in cotton dresses. The most excruciating scene for me was the room that held the ovens where the bodies were cremated upon death or barely alive. I had forgotten my camera and waited for Bene to collect it for me. My friend and our guide had moved on and so had a group of young students. Bene handed me my camera and left the room, I returned to the scene with the two ovens along side one another. Originally there had been a third oven, now removed. I stood in front of two two used brick ovens which unfortunately reminded me of modern pizza ovens (I have seen used in America) where the bodies were burned at Ravensbruck. Wreaths of flowers had been placed on the devices that held the bodies and from the museum pictures I could imagine how high the emaciated bodies could be stacked into the fire. I stood for what seemed like a long time but was actually likely only several moments and prayed for peace for the souls who had died on this soil. My heart was broken. I stood in shock. I stared in mediation as I viewed the memorial where the gas chambers had once stood. Near the crematorium a cauldron without a flame stood where once the spewn brown smoke emitted ashes and the putrid smell of burning flesh. A strange shudder came over me and my body slowly began to shake and cough as though the chimney still released the horrible smoke of...

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Silence

Posted by on June 29, 2014 in General | 0 comments

  Namaste, Silence is my route to knowingness. I relish the moments of silence that I am able to garner every day. A day without silence exhausts me. In silence, I connect with my being-ness. All existence, everything that is, all matter and energy, all thought is contained within silence. When I return home from doing my chores around town, I do not turn on the television, the radio or connect with the computer or telephone because I need silence. Sometimes I sit or read in silence. My silence is not mediation where I let all thought go as I do in the early morning hours. In the silence of my home, there is some sound as I listen to the indoor noises as the fan whizzes and the air conditioner turns on, or simply the beating of my own heart. The clink of the ice in a cup or the whistle of the teakettle acknowledge that  I am ready for tea. These are the sounds of my home and are always there, but I am silent. The outdoor sounds of the wee rabbits in my garden scurrying about or the slurry of misted water mixed with sand from my garden and the whir of the warm dessert wind are such lovely echoes in what otherwise I construe as silence. The start of a car motor, the opening of a mailbox and the whine of the gardener’s hedge clippers are outside sounds that sometimes drift indoors piercing my silence. Still, within I am silent. I love my friends and their chatter, my swimming buddies and their splashes and kicks in the water and I miss them when I am silent too long. I cherish my telephone and Skype connections and the voices of all my family, friends and clients. I love social media and yet when the day is done, I retreat to the silence of reading a good book. If I need sound, I break the silence by watching television shows that I have pre-selected with my special interest of art films and foreign films. Or simply series like “House of Cards” or “Breaking Bad” that  I have missed in the past. Silence is where I process the occurrences of my day, lay my plans for action and synthesize the information that I have learned. Silence becomes my life. It is my haven, my solace and my companion. Without a bit of silence each day my nerves would unravel and my soul would bellow with displeasure.      ...

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Walking the Labyrinth

Posted by on March 23, 2014 in General | 0 comments

  Walking the Labyrinth   On a lovely Saturday morning this Spring I walked the labyrinth on the grounds of  the Franciscan Renewal Center in Scottsdale. I had been thinking of doing this for Lent. Suddenly, in the coolness of  a spring morning, I was invited to an event to do just that.  The invitation came from a name I did not recognize on Facebook,  but saw that an acquaintance  of mine was going and decided that maybe I had met the woman somewhere. Ruth Davis was having a birthday and decided to share her walk with her friends.  Somehow I got into the mix. She told me later that she had not actually invited me. But I went and was delighted to meet new friends. I have learned not to question serendipity but to accept. It usually comes with divine timing. Amidst the desert blossoms of  Arroyo lupine and quail bush we walked the path of the stones. I have walked other labyrinths in different parts of the country and found this setting to be the most beautiful I have ever seen. Tiny lupines and desert primrose were waiting to show their colors. I arrived early and waited for the group while sitting on a bench facing the labyrinth . The mountains above had houses in sight on mounds and built in crevices. The desert terrain was beautiful and I decided to myself to walk in silence and ask a personal question, seeking to walk with a listening heart. When the group arrived, Ruth began with introductions and we shared our intent regarding the walk. As we approached the entrance to the labyrinth I focused on staying  in the moment. I walked slowly thinking of my question and then consciously letting all thought go as my meditation deepened. There is only one path which made me focus on each step winding my way to the center. I took deep breathes and inhaled Spring air as I journeyed  the seven circuits around the circle. My question flew out of my mind and I received a completely different answer to a different question I had also been pondering earlier. Spirit’s way of letting me know that I was not in charge. As I completed this ancient ritual it felt like a representation of my life and all its experiences and challenges. I discovered that I had left my cares in the center and as I left the circle I felt an overwhelming peace surround me. I had  received exactly what I needed.  This sacred experience  taught me once again how important it is to slow down and go inward, to listen and center ourselves in nature. Susan     This lovely Labyrinth was designed by Taffy Lancer, founder of the International Labyrinth Society. I am grateful for her...

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General

Posted by on March 8, 2014 in General | 0 comments

  If you missed my show February 11, 2014 “Off the Record with Judy” you can hear the podcast by going to the shortened link~    http://bit.ly/OTR21114mp3 or visit   http://tntr.toginet.com/shows/offtherecord/#susanstockton to leave comments about the show for Judy and her Producer Kelly. Thanks!   Or go to itunes to down load “Off the Record with Judy” and you can comment there.   Tuesday February 18, 2014   Over a leisurely Breakfast my son Barry and daughter-in-law Trish drew the names of the contest winners!   The Grand Prize winner of the Free reading from me goes to :  Roxanne Doty of Tempe, AZ   Roxanne will receive the Free reading and also a copy of  my new Memoir. Congratulations to the five additional winners of copies of my book, “Visions and Visitors.” The book will be sent to them when it is released in summer of 2014!  All winners have been notified on Facebook privately prior to this posting.   The five additional winners are”   Kelly St.Clair~Chandler, AZ   Sandra Bowman~Washington, DC   Juliana Cavalli~San Francisco, CA   Caroline Orner~ Hagerstown, MD   Silvana Fierro~Washington, DC        Many Blessings,       Susan      ...

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Indian Healing

Posted by on May 21, 2013 in Cultures | 1 comment

Indian Healing

The OM or AUM symbol is the sacred symbol of Brahman and the divine oneness of all life.

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Aboriginal Culture

Posted by on May 21, 2013 in Cultures | 13 comments

Aboriginal Culture

Aboriginal religion, like many other religions, is characterized by having a god or gods who created people and the surrounding environment during a particular creation period at the beginning of time.

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Maori Culture

Posted by on May 21, 2013 in Cultures | 0 comments

Maori Culture

Maori Gods, Legends, rituals and the world view come from a Polynesian homeland.  All these aspects of Maori society life were based on mythology and traditions inherited from their ancestors. Their belief system completely accounted forall the matters and problems of existence and defined a structure for keeping social and cultural order.

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Welcome

Posted by on May 21, 2013 in General | 2 comments

Welcome

My name is Susan Stockton and I consider myself to be a Lightrunner™.  In the nearly three decades of studying psychic development, I have been using my gifts as a medium to help clients throughout the world develop the soul journey they have chosen. I provide each client with a representation of their timeline —past, present and future. I channel your energy into my consciousness. While I may work with you in person, I can also do a reading long distance – using your voice, name, photo or handwriting. Once I am tuned in, I will present information from your Spirit guides, the angels and departed loved ones. This information will be unique to your journey and is designed for the progression of your soul, as you follow your chosen path. The individual information is a tool for your personal growth and the illumination of your shadow. I will provide guidance to support your decisions about relationships, health, career, finances and more. Your reading will be recorded on a CD so you can listen to it over and over as life reveals itself to you. I offer psychic readings, seminars and local events and have a Blog to connect with others via the Internet. Please check out the rest of my Web site and when you are ready, I would love to get started helping you with your...

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Way of Seer~18 Prince Street Charlottetown, PEI

Posted by on November 19, 2012 in Travel | 2 comments

Way of Seer~18 Prince Street Charlottetown, PEI

My mother (Clara Hogan) grew up in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada. Her family  immigrated to Oregon when she was twelve years old. She never stopped loving or forgot her beloved island and her home near the sea. I have always wanted to see the island and despite my worldly wanderings I had never been to her birthplace. My sister Ananfaye and I decided to take a cruise and spend time in my mother’s neighborhood. We hired a driver and scoured the area for a glimpse into her life and to see her house at 18 Prince street a house built by my grandfather’s brother Rufus S. Hogan my great uncle. My great grandfather M.P. Hogan and his son Rufus were builders and merchants, but my grandfather whom I barely remember except that he called my mother Cala, not Clara and he took me for walks around the Oregon neighborhood where they lived when I was small. His name was Arthur Edward Hogan and I remember him taking my hand and telling me that he had held my mom’s hand the same way when she was little. He was a lawyer in PEI and graduated from law school at McGill University in Montreal also obtaining an LLM in law. My memory recalls him as being very gentle. My grandmother was Annie Mae Dorsey and I am sure her family lived nearby also on the island. I remember her well with long braids of grey that she let us brush when she undid her hair at night and if we were good we cuddled up with her and slept in her bed with her after grandpa died. My sister and I took turns sleeping with Grandma especially during the war when my dad was overseas and we lived with Grandma Hogan for a time. David our driver took us to 18 Prince street and and he knocked on the door of the residence explaining to the mistress of the house, (Denise) that our mother had lived in the house as a little girl and that our great uncle had built the house.  She graciously welcomed us into her house  and we viewed the property and back garden. It was barely modernized and everything seemed very old, with lots of wood and carvings above the doorways and a wide wood stairwell. It amused me because although I love old houses and furniture my mother did not care for antiques or anything old as an adult. The visit was an emotional experience that I had not expected and I felt overwhelmed and forgot to take pictures inside the house. Our driver took the picture posted above at the house. Exploring the neighborhood and seeing how close my mom lived to her cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents made me understand how difficult it must have been for her to leave Canada as a  child. My great grandfather M.P. Hogan was a builder and we explored a series of addresses in the historic old town, connected to the family. Hogan built the house at 26 Prince Street  and was the owner and occupant in 1887 . My grandfather was born in 1875, so this must have been his childhood home.  93 Weymouth street was my great grandfathers office in the 1920′s but he did not build the structure. He also had an office  at 40 lower Water street with a business...

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