Sylvia Browne, Death and Loose Change

I will tell you up front that I adore Sylvia Browne.

Yes – that’s the psychic you’ve seen on Montel who sounds like she spent all night screaming in a bar smoking unfiltered camels.  LOVE HER.  I am not ashamed of this.

It’s not just the entertainment value of watching her tell people things that make them want to faint, and I’m not one to read every book she’s ever written because they don’t all interest me.  But when it comes to explaining things like ghosts, spirits, what happens to you (and your pets) when you die, how Jesus may have lived and why the Church is so messed up, etc…the things I wonder about – I buy what she’s saying.  And not just buy as in “yeah, that’s as good an explanation as any” but buy as in “that feels EXACTLY right!”.  As if I knew the answers all along and just forgot them, she makes that much sense to me.  So if she’s a sham, she’s a really comforting sham and I’m fine with that.  Way more comfortable than I’ve ever been with all the teachings of my Catholic upbringing or the Bible.  There are 4 or 5 of her books that I could read over and over because there is just so much in them that I forget bits and pieces.  But nothing contradicts itself and there’s nothing in them that makes me go “hey, wait a minute…” like how, as a Catholic, you can’t eat meat on Friday – especially Good Friday – EXCEPT for when Good Friday falls on St. Patrick’s Day and the area Bishop says it’s okay to have your corned beef in Buffalo because he said so.  Special Dispensation for the Irish in WNY was the beginning of the end for me and Catholicism when I was in high school; when I just couldn’t wrap my head around the arbitrary rules out there.  There were others but that was the big stupid one that started me thinking that Some People were making Some Shit up.

So yeah, read a little Sylvia.  At least it will entertain you, at most it will change the way you think about what you’ve been brought up to believe.  And I don’t think that’s a bad thing; we all need to challenge how we’re brought up from time to time to see if it’s a good fit for us.

Why I was thinking about Sylvia last night was because of a death, unfortunately.  She talks about how our loved ones want us to know they are safe and happy, even if it’s not always as immediate or obvious as we would like.  This sometimes takes a while if the death was especially tragic and the spirit needs some down time in the afterlife for debriefing and rest.  One of the things spirits can do easier than say, appearing right in front of us just like we want them to is to play with electricity or place small objects like coins where we will see them.  I am so on board with that.  I’m not into dream symbolism, but I have dreams now and then of finding coins on a sidewalk or stairs.  Like one right after the other, with no explanation of why they are there or why no one else saw them.  So when Andy and I were sitting in a grass lot one day, having a little picnic before a race (NASCAR), I was pretty tickled to find a quarter lying under Andy’s chair.  And then 4 more in the dirt right under it.  YES – there are lots of reasons that a bunch of quarters ends up on the ground in a parking lot, I’m not a moron.  I can’t tell you why I feel this, but I was absolutely sure that was Andy’s dad saying hello.  Just like the dimes are from my grandfather.  Yup.  Think what you want.

A few months ago a friend lost her father and I wrote her to say he was absolutely fine and would let her know that when he was able.  I don’t know why I did that really, I usually try to stay out of situations where there is no good thing to say.  Death is one of those things, when every line that comes out of your mouth sounds so fake and flat and uncomforting that you just want to wash it out with grain alcohol.  Then stuff kittens in your ears so you don’t have to hear anyone else’s sympathy vomit.  Do not get me started on the hatred I feel for “sympathy cards”.

Said friend surprised me by responding that she felt the same way.  They had asked her father what he was going to send the family to let them know he was around.  He told them he would send bird poop.  She thinks that might have been the morphine talking but I am awaiting a report of some apocalyptic episode where seagulls suddenly descend at a reunion and shower everyone with his hellos.


About deepfriedyankee

I am a parade of one. A seeker of bathtubmarys. A lover of Mardi Gras, bacon and marbles. I have the patience of a saint. A very, very flawed saint.
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One Response to Sylvia Browne, Death and Loose Change

  1. Mandy says:

    One of these days I’m going to get around to writing a livejournal entry about how I can’t decide what I want to do about my kids and religion. I’ll let you know when I do since I know you never go on there anymore.

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