In the past there have been discussions on the intelligence of plants.  Experiments were carried out in an attempt to measure the validity of plant response to humans who love them.  This included measuring plant growth in relation to random types of music played versus music associated with the plant owner, while the plants were watered and fed.  As well, they measured growth in relation to simply the sound of the plant owner's voice while the plants were and were not watered and fed.

So what about plants as guardians of the unseen?  Greenery that does, indeed, actively prevent you from discerning a path, seeing the shore, finding your way?  Or plants that lure you in...

This concept, while touched on in 'Shaman's Shell' has actually been explored numerous times in a variety of media.  Who didn't laugh at the idea of Audrey in 'Little Shop of Horrors' - then give their own houseplants an extra glance?  Or shudder alongside the Robinsons when they discovered carnivorous plants surrounding the Jupiter II?

From L. Frank Baum's "Wizard of Oz" to Jack Finney's "The Body Snatchers" , from John W. Campbell, Jr.'s "Who Goes There" (movie buffs would know that as 'The Thing') to J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings" , book and film have examined the potential of plants as independent movers and shakers, landing everywhere from hip to 'Hell, No!" 

What are YOUR thoughts on the concept? 

All I'll say is, when I walked along a beach-bound road recently, and the taller-than-me greenery snapped just beyond my shoulder as I passed - but for a pause, I didn't slow my step...


I had the opportunity recently to stay with  friends for a creative weekend. The house we stayed at was so warm and welcoming, despite its size. The room I had, I was told, was a gathering spot for visiting spirit. Noted by their scent. I am not one who has ever had a scent encounter, except for the fact that when I smell a cigar I think of my Grandfather (Pepere Labossiere) and not in a long time now, since no one really smokes them anymore. So I kind of took it like, okay - we'll see.

Yeah. A clean scent plumed periodically. Her neighbor's late daughter was known for it. Jaime was definitely there. My friend even pulled a 'smell my wrists' without us knowing why, and I def pulled the aroma from my room on her hand. I also smelled Old Spice in the room (three of us admitted our fathers used it), and sage. I smudge periodically so I know the scent and that burned smell that goes with it, (and I'd been seeking my guides' guidance on this trip).

So I ask you: If you came across a scent that you KNEW you knew, would you acknowledge it and welcome the contact, maybe inviting more experiences, or turn away and tell yourself you're crazy?

The scents around me right now as I write this make me ponder. And lean me toward believe.


Everybody dreams. They say if you don't, you won't survive. They say even people who claim to never dream actually do... they just don't remember it. 

Not surprising. Lots of people don't remember their dreams.

But what about that one night. You wake in the morning and feel... drained. Dragged out of some good thing. The picture is still so vivid in your mind. The colors bright, conversation crisp or visual sharp. Maybe you suddenly see so clearly a place you haven't been in years, or have a voice lingering in your ears that plucks your heart.

It's just a dream, you tell yourself. Wrapped in  a memory. Making it seem... real.

In The Heart Sees Samantha tells herself that very thing. It's just a dream. But it ends up being more. A travel with someone real.

Dream travel isn't always about going away, though. Sometimes it's about a visit. A loved one meets you in a dream space. Maybe what they say or do, or the meeting place itself, gives a message or a clue to why they've come.

Regardless the message though, seeing a loved one again, speaking to them or hearing their voice, feeling their presence, is a profound experience. In the initial heart-contracture of finding is the renewal of loss. You wake to sadness and disappointment mixed with the thrill of the encounter.

The trick to surviving the emotional hit is to recognize it for what it is... a gift. A unique opportunity. Hope. The realization they are there and they are listening.

So... if you were presented the chance to say one more thing to your loved one who passed, what would it be?



The Heart Sees
what the eyes cannot
And the soul strains
for the sound of a voice
It knows as its own…
Spirit, walk beside me
And show me the way.