People always ask me,

“What’s it like being a Psychic?”… “Why don’t you just play lotto?…”Because I ‘know’ I won’t win?”… “What am I thinking?“…”Why would I want to !?@## know that?”…“Who will I marry?”… “Wouldn’t a better question be – When will I divorce?” A real answer for “What’s it like being a Psychic” is …“It depends”.

Since I know no other way, being a Psychic seems normal to me. To most people it seems exotic, odd, uncanny, crazy, fill in as many blanks as you wish. Being called Psychic is like having a scarlet “P” around your neck at all times…



The Mysterious Hunt for Japanese Salad Dressing


I admit I was restless. It was a Sunday afternoon and it seemed everyone wanted to stay home, read the paper or a book, or binge watch TV. It was too cold to really be outside, but I had a bad case of cabin fever so I decided to take a ride. And for some reason all that morning I felt compelled to see about this marketplace in another town.

I’d received emails about it for months and passed it once when I took a wrong turn returning home, but really had no interest other than if someone was going there and I had nothing to do maybe I’d explore what it was about.

Today it was my mission for some random reason. So, wanting to take a ride I chose it as a first destination. Riding by the river was relaxing. Being away from people today was a gift. I just rode in silence, enjoying myself and now I had a destination. At first I passed it,  not realizing exactly where or what it was- it seemed so small.

I finally parked my car and went inside. It was quaint enough with homemade desserts and shelves with herbal teas. Seemed like different vendors  selling different foods in a quasi-European marketplace. As I wandered around, I thought I’d venture onto a natural food store about a half hour away and pick up some Japanese salad dressing someone I love was really wanting and never had time to buy it since the distance always seemed like an inconvenience. iToday, the sky was the limit. That spontaneously became my second destination after I left here.

I stepped into a second room filled with tables of food and stopped. There was the guy who sold the Japanese salad dressing standing behind a table. Now that dressing was only sold some days at the local farmer’s market if you were lucky  to find him or at that natural food market I was planning to visit.  It was touch and go as far as procuring this Japanese salad dressing. And there it was.

He was just as surprised to see me and quickly informed me that they were starting to close the market. I was just in time.  I quickly bought a few bottles of dressing and he threw in some edamame spread before leaving. Thrilled with being so directly guided I drove away, and with more free time I headed to the river contemplate my next adventure.

river    Oh yes, I took a picture of this tree across the street from the market, just because it was starkly beautiful.













 So, we’re kayaking on really large, quiet lake on a hot summer day.  Having been there so many times, taking photos of wildlife, this time I secretly wished I would finally see an eagle – since so many people have told me of sitings there for years.  Just once, I wished that day. I’d like to be close enough to a real eagle. I’ve taken photos of  blue herons, ospreys, crows, wrens… even a deer swimming across the lake, but never an eagle.

Paddling along the water under the hot sun, we came across a guy resting in his kayak in one of the few patches of shade.  As we passed and said hello, he started to talk about seeing eagles on the lake a few hours ago. So we pulled our kayak beside his and listened to his stories about all his eagle sightings over the years.

I didn’t want to appear jealous or frustrated, but I really wanted to see just one eagle myself. I heard they were huge and incredible. I’d even settle for one flying in the distance.

As we were talking, or he was still talking, my friend pointed a finger upward and signaled not to make another sound. There, balancing on a limb just a few feet overhead was a huge, magnificent eagle.


He looked down at us as if to say, “Happy now?”  Indeed I was. He remained there for a long time so I could take lots of pictures to remind me that wishes can be heard and come true. Now if I could just have that trip around the world I’ve been wishing for….




Every pet owner’s nightmare. Our eight-year-old cat died. She was alive one minute, and when I turned around she was dead at my feet. Unexpected. And sad. Months later I would visit a cat rescue place where a friend worked, looked at all the feral cats in cages, but couldn’t adopt, not yet.

Then one night, a few months later I had a dream. In my dream, I saw two black and white kittens, brother and sister. Not cats. Not cat! Kittens. I awoke and figured those were my cats. How to find them? The next day I unexpectedly ran into my friend and told her my dream. “It’s  early spring.  When kittens were born, ” she reminded me. She told me she would keep her eyes out at the rescue place for two black and white kittens. I wasn’t sure I was ready, even though my dream seemed so real.

The next day she called to say they were getting their first litter of kittens. I asked her to keep me informed. She called back later that day and told me the kittens arrived. They  were black and white.

Upon seeing them, I immediately adopted the little runt of the litter. Her brother was easy to spot. Twice her size, but a gentle giant. Lily and Boo are now happily ,over nine years old, finally home, making my dream come true.



ogham stone.jpg


In the First to Sixth Centuries Ogham was the Early Medieval alphabet used to write the Irish language according to Google. However, nothing remotely algorithmically happened the day I went on my quest to find an Ogham Stone in Western Ireland.

Traveling through rural counties I came upon a small store that sold basic goods and asked the clerk about the Ogham stones. An elderly Irishman standing nearby ushered me aside asking, “So you want to be seein’ the Ogham Stones do you?” as if I said the magic word to open a magical door. He then proceeded to take pen in hand and draw a map on a piece of paper with signpost lines of  fields and mountains and streams to lead me toward my destination.

Driving through the vast countryside I started to doubt where I was going until I came upon an old, small country churchyard cemetery filled with worn religious gravestones.

And… there it was. Among them. An ancient Ogham Stone carved in hieroglyphic language with a hole near the top- the Marriage Stone where two people soon to be betrothed could touch fingers through it on either side.

I was so excited to find it, I immediately whipped out my camera – long before digital, yet younger than the Ogham Stone. The sky quickly darkened, turning black as a storm blew over the graveyard. A blinding Irish rain fell hard and fast obscuring everything in sight. With my camera light meter not even registering a glimmer of hope, I decided to point the lens, now plastered with raindrops, at the Ogham Stone to humor myself for even finding this desolate place, and snapped one picture.

Upon returning home and developing the photos of my trip, this photo of the Oghan Stone was among them. No black sky, no sight of storm or blinding rain… simply the Marriage Ogham Stone as mystical and mysterious as Ireland.



Don’t Picnic During A Police Chase


One hot summer evening, my friends and I spontaneously decided to have a picnic dinner in a local park by the Hudson River. Something inside me immediately felt we should stay home. At first I thought it might be because it was later in the day/evening and the park closed at sundown and we would have to rush through dinner, but that said, I just didn’t feel we should go. No one listened to me. Why should they? I only make predictions for people around the world for a living… but this was a nice summer weekend. So, I went along with the group, not wanting to eat home alone. Still the feeling persisted.

We drove to the park, found a picnic table by the water and started to eat. From our picnic table we could see flashing red lights on the bridge a distance away. “Sunday traffic,” someone said.

“Maybe there’s a fire or accident,” said another as we passed the food around.

Soon police helicopters flew above the bridge. “See, I told you,” a friend added, “It was an accident.”

We continued eating while helicopters started to fly past the bridge and headed toward the park. “Probably News helicopters circling the area for a story,” someone suggested.

I said nothing, trying to quell the uncomfortable feeling now growing stronger inside me as police helicopters approached above us.

“Someone’s probably lost in the park,” everyone agreed, except me.

We kept eating.

Suddenly, a beat up red pick-up truck barreled through the now closed park entrance at breakneck speed, broke a saw horse barrier and tore down a gravel walking path not far from where we were eating. It happened so fast, it all seemed surreal.

Twenty state and local police cars with lights flashing and undercover vans sped in a line in hot pursuit down the same path.

Everyone stopped eating.

The knot in my gut tightened as I walked to a young park worker nervously puffing an unlit cigarette in his truck. Before I could ask anything he lifted a radio microphone to his mouth and yelled – “Get out! Everyone! Murder suspects! They’re armed!”

We stuffed our food in the car and quickly drove away. He heard that a police car suffered a flat tire during the chase, but the suspects were finally apprehended in a showdown.

Finishing our picnic in the safety of a house, everyone sheepishly avoided me for the rest of the night.

The next weekend, roughly about the same time of day, the same group decided to go boating on an upstate lake. Again, I was the sole voice that said, “It will be late, and it looks like there might be a thunderstorm.”

“Ridiculous,” someone laughed, “It’s early.”

“We can get there in no time.”

“There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

Some people often need to have life repeat before they ‘get it.’ Rather than remind them of last week’s fiasco, I decided to go along for the ride and let Fate do the rest.

We ordered take-out food to eat in the boat, timing it so that we had plenty of time to pick up our food and go. As we started on our way someone noticed a few important food items missing – like our main dish. We returned to the restaurant, applauding ourselves that at least we caught the missing food before reaching our destination.

Fate reminder number one.

We were making excellent time. Almost there. Until we missed the exit. We had to drive farther, turn around, and retrace our steps. No problem, it was still early.

Fate reminder number two.

We gleefully found the exit this time and drove to the lake, sure that we would still get some quality time on the water before it grew dark. That was before we came to a dead stop after the exit due to a traffic jam. Evening began to descend.

Fate reminder number three.

Of course no one else was noticing Fate riding with us that evening. Having endured enough group mentality, and knowing the outcome wasn’t going to be pretty, I shouted, “Turn around!” to the driver at the next U-turn sign. Reflexively, he followed my command and we headed home.

 Everyone was bummed. Our food was cold and now it was dark. As we reached home, someone suggested we picnic in a small public park. At least we could make the most of the lost evening.

“No way,” I said, “It’s going to rain.”

So we split up. The die-hards dropped me off at my house with my portion of food and drove to the public park to picnic. Had I taken this last bit of Fate into my own hands?

Hardly. I settled down to my meal.

Suddenly a huge bolt of lightning split the dark and thunder rattled every window. Hailstones pelted the ground as I finished the remains of my meal, feeling a possible newfound respect from my friends and knowing that Fate was definitely on my side.






I was recently  in Los Angeles and decided to take a break and walk along the beach in Santa Monica. The minute I stuck my feet on the wide sandy beach, Some hippie guy pushing his child in a stroller on a nearby walkway smiled as he passed and offered, “Have a nice day. Don’t forget to see the dolphins.”


I’d been to that beach so many times over the years. There were no wild dolphins there. Too many people. Too close to shore. Sometimes LSD trips take you to new vistas.

So I continued toward the water where people cavorted in the waves or sunbathed on the sand. Wait. Was that something moving in the waves out there? Too far for surfers. Maybe small fishing boats?

I stopped dead in my tracks at the ocean edge. There, sun glinting off their arched bodies was a pod of wild dolphins performing their natural acrobatic water ballet while they swam parallel to the distant shoreline. I looked at the people on and near the beach. No one seemed to notice them. Was I hallucinating? Catching a contact LSD high? No. They were real and swimming out there in plain sight. Wild dolphins just out of reach.

Not for long.

Could I psychically contact wild dolphins? There was only one way to find out. I started to telepathically call them to come closer. Gently I repeatedly  called out to them and watched.

Nothing happened…until all the dolphins in the pod changed direction. They were no longer swimming parallel to the shoreline. They were playfully arching and swimming straight toward me.

I started to panic. What would happen if they came really close and the  people on the beach saw them?  They might scare them,  disturb their frolic and freedom. What would the lifeguards do? Not wanting to find out, I quickly sent the dolphins a message to swim away.

Within moments, the whole pod turned and headed out to sea. Everyone continued whatever they were doing without notice of our grand experiment.  Thankful, but pleased, I continued my walk with no one, except the dolphins, the wiser.





A few friends and I were hungry. And we were in one of the greatest cities in the world. Which equals food everywhere, except most restaurants only take reservations.

But we were hungry.

So we chose a restaurant nearby that seemed easy. No calling ahead of time. No VIP reservations. Except when we arrived the restaurant was unduly crowded. In fact, at that time of day everyone in the city must have been hungry because every restaurant we went to was unduly crowded. Even those that don’t offer decent food.

We finally arrived at our last restaurant.  At least the last one we agreed upon to try as a final resort. So we’re waiting inside the doorway after having given my name to the guy taking names – who wished he were anywhere but there – while we faced a dining room filled with  ravenous urban people seemingly with no intention of leaving right away.

People behind us were waiting. People around us were waiting. People at the bar were waiting. My friends were growing impatient. Everyone had a solution. One wanted to leave and find yet another crowded restaurant. Another wanted to bribe the guy. Another just kept staring at customers eating at tables hoping they’d quickly leave. Hunger does funny things to people. None of those possibilities appealed to me.

So I quietly stood there and did what I know.

I focused on the guy making  the seating arrangements in the front of the restaurant and started to send him my name in a telepathic message. I didn’t do it to have an unfair advantage. I honestly did it because I didn’t want to listen to my friends whine around me. And, I had nothing else to do at the moment.

I kept mentally repeating and sending my name to him.

It became a fun pastime, watching him look up from his clipboard each time I sent it and then look down again or get distracted. My friends were oblivious to what I was doing while they continued to plot and whine like two year olds. People waiting around us were arguing. Some were pushing. Some tried to be aggressive with him. No one was being seated.

Suddenly I heard him call my name. I know it wasn’t remotely next on the list. People around us angrily let us pass as we marched toward him.

A couple quickly approached him to point to their names on the list as a waiter grabbed our menus and led us to a table. I heard him apologize, telling them it was an honest mistake and he would seat them next.

They were soon seated nearby. I never told my friends. All was well in our restaurant world for the moment as we ordered our meal.