A Sense of Spirit · concepts · inspiration · new · new beginnings · reading

A Manifesto.

Manifesto for a simple life


The definition of a manifesto is “a public declaration of intentions”…..

I found this manifesto just a few days ago, and these words, along with so many others I have been reading lately, jumped off the page at me.

This is my own personal manifesto for 2015. I won’t be over thinking the possibilities, the words were discovered for me, and when you know withing your heart and soul that something is right, no questions need be asked, no debate entered into ~ so here they are.

Due to “eating less”, I have not eaten anything since breakfast time, and my stomach is growling, so I will now “move more” to the kitchen, for a quick snack, after which I will continue moving, you know, chores to be done….but I have been giving my word for this year a huge amount of feeling, and will share thoughts and words that have led me to the choice soon…..

Have you ever chosen a manifesto?


A Sense of Spirit · concepts · spirituality

The Optimist’s Creed

walking through lifeChristian Daa Larson (1874 – 1962) an American author, wrote The Optimist’s Creed in 1922 and his phenomenal insight still holds true today. Christian was a leader in what was known as the New Thought Movement, described as promoting the ideas that “Infinite Intelligence, or God, is everywhere, spirit is the totality of real things, true human selfhood is divine, divine thought is a force for good, sickness originates in the mind, and “right thinking” has a healing effect.”

Today I would like to share with you “The Optimist’s Creed”, sage words which still apply today and will continue to do so for all time.

Wishing you divine healing, always….

I promise myself ~

To be so strong that nothing can disturb my peace of mind.

To talk health, happiness, and prosperity to every person I meet.

To make all my friends feel that there is something worthwhile in them.

To look at the sunny side of everything and make my optimism come true.

To think only the best, to work only for the best and to expect only the best.

To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as I am about my own.

To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future.

To wear a cheerful expression at all times and give a smile to every living creature I meet.

To give so much time to improving myself that I have no time to criticise others.

To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.

To think well of myself and to proclaim this fact to the world, not in loud words, but in great deeds.

To live in the faith that the whole world is on my side, so long as I am true to the best that is in me. ~ Christian D. Larson.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A Sense of Spirit · concepts · making contact · remembering · spirituality · unbreakable bonds

The Souls We Remain With, Throughout Time.

“Do we continue to share our time with the same souls, being reborn, year after year, time after time, within the same families, as brand new people; people who know one another; people who remain with you throughout time?”

On a Saturday night a few months ago, my son, child number four, and I sat in front of the television and watched a show about the ‘supernatural’. I forget the name of the show as I am not a huge fan of such shows, finding they are sensationalised by the producers, no doubt to draw viewers in with the unbelievable topics portrayed.

This particular show, however, did not slot into this category. The show may have been called “Celebrity Ghost Stories”, or some such name, as those chosen for the show, in which they shared their amazing but true stories, were celebrities.

One of the stories had my son gripping his seat, whilst declaring that he hated watching these types of shows, because they were too scary and would give him nightmares. But he didn’t leave the room, being so transfixed by the story being told.

As the story unfolded, the female celebrity told of an incident which happened many years ago in her home, when two little girls had appeared out of nowhere, and began to laugh and skip around one of the rooms in her home, laughing and playing together. Yet she didn’t know who these two girls were, she had never met them.

One night some time later, again, she heard children laughing and singing outside of her window at her home. She looked outside and saw the same two girls, playing together and having a lovely time as they chatted and laughed in their carefree way.

Fast forward to some years later, when the woman was married and had two daughters of her own, and she remembered the incidents from years ago, as she watched her two real daughters, playing together and laughing. She recognised the two girls she had seen before, many years earlier, as being her own two daughters!

My son heaved a sigh of relief. This woman hadn’t claimed to have been possessed by the spirits of two evil spirits, or any other such other gruesome ending to her story. My son declared that he had enjoyed her story, said goodnight, and off he went to his room.

What my son didn’t know was that I too had been mesmerised by the story, but for another, more personal reason.

In my early twenties I had longed to have a child, but my husband had other ideas, claiming we should wait until the “time was right”. In our home in Sydney, we had two spare bedrooms, the one at the back of the house being painted in light blue, and the room I had intended being the babies nursery, when my stubborn husband finally decided that it was the right time to start a family.

At first, I brushed off the faint smell of babies powder I could smell each time I went into the room, but as time progressed, it was there constantly, when I stood beside the window, looking out into the garden.

Within a few weeks, the laughter started.

I could hear the most beautiful babies laugh I had ever heard in my life. And I knew it was the laughter of a boy. He came to me a few times, and even though I didn’t actually see him, I heard him, and knew him. And he would talk to me at the most unexpected times.

Late one night, as I drove home alone, after a visit with a friend, the child told me that everything would be okay, that I shouldn’t worry about anything! His laughter and child’s voice rang in my ears, as clearly as if he sat right there beside me in the seat in my car, speaking to me.

The months passed by and he didn’t speak to me again, but I knew he was there, constantly.

It came as no surprise to me when I found out that I was pregnant with my first child. I didn’t think about the child’s laughter and voice during my pregnancy, but I knew my child was a boy. And, I knew him; we had been together before.

Right throughout the months of my pregnancy, to me, my son was Sam, although I knew my husband wouldn’t agree to the name, as it had been the name given to my father, grandfather and great-uncle. My husband didn’t want our family tree to appear “boring” with the same names repeated generation after generation.

When I saw my son for the first time, his soul was so familiar to me. There was no doubt in my mind that we knew each other, and now I could see him, touch him and knew what he looked like. Those seeing my new baby for the first time would often comment that he had an “old soul”.

His nappy change table sat right under the window in his blue room, right in the spot where I had smelled his baby powder, and as he grew, and I heard his laughter, I heard the exact same laughter of the child who had visited me, long before my son was born!

My eldest son is, and always has been, my rock; he makes everything alright for me. As a toddler, when we would park the car in a large shopping centre, I would worry that I might forget where I had parked the car, and my son would tell me not to worry, it would be alright, he would remember where the car was.

And so it has continued throughout his life. He makes everything alright for me. He tells me not to worry; he takes care of things, just as he did before his birth.

My next two children were daughters, and I could always rely on my son to watch out for his sisters, with his attitude of don’t worry, and casually, quietly and efficiently taking care of minor details that the two girls would overlook.

The day my son’s baby brother was born, when he was twelve years old, I was positively bursting to tell my boy that he had a baby brother. When I told him, as he stood beside my bed in the birthing room in the hospital, he told me he wouldn’t have minded being the only boy, he would love the new baby just as much as he loved his two sisters, regardless.

My new baby grew and his big brother played with him and cared for him constantly, just as he had played with and cared for his sisters.

And as time progressed, he nick-named his little brother George.

The name caught on, and for quite some time George was the alternate name used for my youngest child, and everyone knew who we were referring to. George suited him.

A few years ago, as I traced my family history and began to discover the names of my ancestors, I learned that my grandfather, Sam, had been a twin. The name of his twin brother, who had passed away at only one year old, was George.

Sam and George; the alternate names for my two sons. 🙂

A Sense of Spirit · concepts · making contact · signs from spirits

The Car with Spirit

My father loved vehicles of any description throughout his entire life. It didn’t matter to him whether they travelled by road, rail, water or air, or if they were old, new, or what model they were, he showed an interest in them all. If it had a motor, he wanted to know about it.

When Dad was gone, it was left to me and my three sisters to dispose of all of his worldly belongings and as the one who lived only ten minutes from his home, I became the designated seller of his car.

Naively, I thought it would be easy to sell a car, just place an advert in the local paper and it would ‘walk out the door’.

How wrong I was! As time went on, it appeared that Dad had his own plans regarding the disposal of his final vehicle.

After what seemed like forever, a neighbour bought the car for his daughter, a learner driver. He would fix up the car for her and it would be a great “first car”.

I had considered buying my sister’s shares in the car and keeping it for my eldest son, who would be learning to drive soon himself, but decided against that idea, as the car would have sat idle in our yard, no doubt deteriorating due to lack of use, for the next two years, until my son would be old enough to drive.

When the time came for my son to buy his first car I gave him “the motherly talk”, the one that goes, “don’t spend too much, but buy a decent car, but if you pay too little you will only be buying someone else’s problems; no car is worth wasting any amount of money on if it is too cheap, you never know where it has been, who has owned it or how it has been treated,” etc. etc……..

But Dad had plans of his own. He knew just the car that his grandson wouldn’t have to pay too much for, and we knew exactly where it had been – his car.

The time had also come for our neighbour’s daughter to upgrade her car. Dad’s car came back on the market at exactly the right time.

It felt “right” when my Dad’s car was driven back into our own driveway. My son had to go to work for a few hours that day, (he had a casual job on the weekends as he was still a student at school) and the car would be waiting for him when he arrived home.

My husband and I decided to get a head start for our son by vacuuming out the car, although we found that the back door on the passenger side wouldn’t open. We knew that the door had opened when we had the car before but now the door appeared to be locked, even though it wasn’t.

When my son arrived home we mentioned the problem with the door. What we hadn’t realised was that our son had opened all the doors of the car (part of his “new car” inspection!) before he left for work that day.

My boy walked up to the car and opened the “locked” door, with ease!

At that moment, I knew that my father had intended his car to go to my son.

For the next two years, Dad’s car didn’t miss a beat. My son finished school and started his first full time job immediately. He already had a decent deposit saved, ready to upgrade to a newer car, and within three weeks of starting work full time he decided to start looking around for his new car.

My boy had a very clear image of the car he wanted; red, fairly new and manual gear.

Again, I gave him the “mother talk”; “don’t fall in love with the first car you see; don’t let those used car salesmen talk you into anything; don’t expect to find your dream car immediately, it could take months of searching”, etc. etc…….

Within less than an hour, he called me on the phone. “Mum, I’ve found my car!”

“What did I tell you?” I groaned.

He immediately interrupted me. “I know, but I’ve found a red Holden, a manual, just over a year old, way below market price and still under new car warranty. I’ve already been approved for finance, so long as you will put your name on the loan with me.”

What could I say? My boy was right. I also knew that my Dad had again guided his grandson to this car, just as he had with his own old car. Dad was a “Holden Man”; my son had found a Holden. The car was red; Dad’s favourite colour (and also, luckily, my son’s!) The new car was a manual, my son’s preferred choice, although very rare in this model of car. My Dad would drive nothing other than a manual.

But the story doesn’t end there.

Dad’s car would be traded in on the new car, so the day my boy was to collect the car, he drove home after work, allowing plenty of time to remove his personal belongings from Dad’s car. He took his little brother with him, telling me he still had a fair amount of petrol in the car and would take my younger son for a final drive in his old car.

I was at work that day, but would be arriving home before my boy would be leaving to collect his new red car.

Shortly after, my son phoned me; he had crashed the old car! He assured me that neither of them had been injured, even though I could hear my younger son, he was only six at the time, crying in the background.

With my heart where my stomach had been, and my stomach now located in my throat, I went to rescue my two boys, somewhere on a gravel road which ran alongside the river, a road that we could see in the distance from the back of our home.

When I reached the scene of the accident, it was difficult to imagine what had happened, with both of my son’s waiting beside the car, not far from the side of a straight stretch in the road. The car was parked slightly in a sugarcane field and at first glance appeared to have no damage to it.

My eldest son was angry with himself, saying he must have been speeding and hit a pot-hole in the road. When I looked along the road, there was not a pot-hole in sight. The car had flipped over and righted itself in the sugarcane field.

Once my stomach and heart had relocated themselves back into their correct positions, we were able to calmly drive my two boys and Dad’s old car, now sporting a broken windscreen, home.

Later that night, as my son reflected on the day’s events and we all puzzled over how the car had flipped over on a straight stretch of road, without pot-holes, my son told me something that he felt was strange about the accident and had been playing on his mind.

Although at first he had though the car must have gained speed, he had later remembered having slowed down to point out to his little brother where our house was, in amongst the trees and up in the hills. We could see the road and river from our home; we could also see our home from the road.

The road running alongside the river was, and still is, a very quiet road. My son remembered slowing down considerably, as there was no other traffic in site, to point out where our house was.

He also remembered feeling something happening to the car. He knew instinctively that there was something amiss, and had time to put his arm around his little brother for protection, before the car had time to flip over.

The whole incident had happened, as he described it, “in slow motion”.

Now, I never spoke to my son about my belief in the spirit world, as he had only been a boy of eight years of age when my mother had left us. He had told me at that time that he was afraid that his grandma might appear to him and it would frighten him, so I assured him that his grandmother wouldn’t do any such thing, as she would know he was afraid and wouldn’t wish to scare him, but the day the car flipped, he had his own theories about the accident, which he shared with me.

My son told me that he believed his grandfather had given him a “driving lesson” as such, showing him how quickly and unexpectedly an accident could happen if he didn’t keep his wits about him. He told me that the whole incident had been “other worldly” and he had been trying to find a logical reason why it had happened, knowing full well that he hadn’t been speeding. He also believed that his grandfather had protected both himself and his little brother during the “lesson”.

Dad’s car eventually became scrap metal. Dad didn’t want anyone else to own his car. He had left his car, in his own way, to my son, and he’d arranged every incident in such a way that his wishes would be fulfilled.

A co-incidence of events? I don’t believe that for a minute!

Wherever you are, Dad, your grandson thanks you for leaving him your car. 🙂

A Sense of Spirit · concepts · realities

Thoughts as I Press My Nose against the Window of Life

“Every new idea begins with a concept and an imaginary glance into the future. Where our imaginations perceive this idea will take us is crucial to the distance we are prepared to travel with our concept. It’s all in our minds, in our perception of what the future may bring”.

The creation of this website took months, in my mind.

The whole concept took hold easily enough and the content has always been there by the bucket-load, in my mind.

During the last year I must have written over one-hundred articles to publish here, in my mind.

After months of agonising over the question of whether or not starting up this site was a valid concept, a burst of courage finally saw “A Sense of Spirit” hitting the computer air-waves in March last year.

Whatever became of the courage I had within me, back in March 2011, back in the day when I believed in my ideas and knew that the blogging world would accept the theory behind the concept of writing about unproven realities?

In actual fact, that is exactly what “A Sense of Spirit” is all about ~ A Series of Unproven Realities.

Constantly I have asked myself, how many people are there out there, who also, like myself, can see and feel these unproven realities?

Will I be questioned and judged on my stories of what is fact (to me) or questioned harshly on my theories? (I do not wish to have to defend my beliefs, nor do I wish to question those who do not have the same beliefs as me).

Worse still, will I be ridiculed?

Are there even any like-minded people who will read my stories and see them for what they are, accepting the sincerity in which my stories are shared?

Will anyone feel compelled to share their own stories here?

There are too many questions floating around in my head. Don’t you agree?

While my heart tells me “go for it!” the practical reality in my head, (which I am usually loathe to listen to, especially if it precedes the story of my heart, although it doesn’t in this case), is this ~ I already have three, yes three, subscribers to “A Sense of Spirit”!

Not bad at all, if you ask me, when you consider I have added just one post, almost a year ago, and an “about” page! (Thank you to my three subscribers. I hope you are all reading this and will accept my gratitude for your offerings of encouragement).

Who knows, maybe there are some more folk out there who won’t see this site as being complete madness and enjoy what they read. How cool would it be to have even more subscribers?!

In actual fact, using my senses to feel the unseen and also listening to and following my intuition comes as naturally to me as breathing. It always has, as far back as I can remember.

Now I am ready, the time has come for me to stop pressing my nose against the window and become a participant in my own creation. I’m ready to go out and dance in the sunshine and the rain.

I do hope you will join me.