“From Here to There”

Posted on September 28, 2024 by Cathy Silver

Blog – October 2024 –

Approximately 90 miles from Cuba, sits the tiny island of Key West. Key West is located on the Straits of Florida dividing the Atlantic Ocean to the east from the Gulf of Mexico to the west. It has it’s own “vibe” most definitely. An old historical island filled with repurposed, vintage cigar factories, restaurants and bars, shopping boutiques, art galleries, and a fair amount of legends’ and stories written about it in novels as well as the crusty authors who wrote and lived there. Probably a favorite stop for pirates in days gone by! I can’t forget to mention the iconic chickens who meander the streets inviting themselves in, just about everywhere. Bikes are big transportation downtown and I seem to remember them being parked throughout the tiny bustling city. Key West is a TRIP. It is also the “southern most point” of the continental United States and designated by a huge colorful landmark buoy, painted red, white and black. 

But, had I ever visited the Northern or most NW corner of the United States? Actually, No. I had seen Neah Bay on the map many times—but I didn’t ever remember venturing out to that tiny corner of the United States, which lies just outside the rugged terrain of Olympic National Park, of which I had hiked decades before and part of the ancient culture of the indigenous Makah Tribe.

It was an exceptionally beautiful fall day last Tuesday and I was inspired to drive the two plus hours west down Hwy 101 though the old logging and mill town of Port Angeles turning on to the windy state Hwy 112 towards Neah Bay. The road was not a fast drive, with many curves, rolling roads and hairpin turns. An old wagon road beginning back in the 1920’s had obviously been repaired many times over its existence and was still undergoing repairs today. There were signs warning of speed, slides, ice, and wildlife crossing, which is no joke up here. In the month since I arrived, I have witnessed two deer accidents—one by proxy—and one on my way to Neah Bay. I observed a guy loading a freshly hit dear into the back of his pickup. I guess in some places now, a “lead” Elk wears a collar and trigger’s flashing lights to warn drivers of the crossing herd. But, I digress . . . 

The scenic byway looks across the rough and blustery Straits of Juan de Fuca, much of the time, towards Vancouver Island, Canada. Along the drive you pass areas that have been completely logged out, rural “homesteads”, foothills, meadows/valleys, numerous rivers, campgrounds and beaches. The masculine feel of the Pacific Ocean and coast is never far away—and the coolness of the fog, mist and temperature looms as the sun tries hard to break its way onto the road through old growth forests and deciduous trees along the highway. At certain points the rainforest’s continual wetness is clearly visible as many of the trees and stumps have a variety of mosses and lichens growing from their branches and bark giving the whole scene a “Harry Potter” feel. The Olympic National Park’s temperate rainforest and ecosystem is a fascinating study all by itself, I thought to myself.

I had diligently packed a picnic lunch and remembered to bring it with me but as I drove into the small village of the Neah Bay and the tribal lands of the Makah people around lunch time, a banner announcing “FRESH FISH & CHIPS” caught my attention. My car as if on autopilot pulled into the deserted parking lot in front of the industrious looking fishing marina and next to the makeshift restaurant. This marina was not one of luxury yachts as I had observed in Ft. Lauderdale, but working fishing vessels of every size and color. The village itself, population 935 as of the 2020 census, was of a hard-working folk, unadorned, and hamlet subject to the brutal rain and winds of the Pacific Ocean coming from the west.  Neah Bay is simple, basic and modest with its array of pick-up trucks, crab pots and wandering but friendly dogs. I shared a couple pieces of beef jerky with one because she was soooo sweet!

You know some things you just can’t make up! While eating my utterly fresh and delicious lunch looking out towards the marina, another couple had stopped for their lunch as well. A conversation of small talk led to the discovery that Tom’s family grew up in the same area as I had, attended the University of Washington also and knew my sister, Caryl. What are the chances? He is a photographer now, his wife is a graphic designer and they live in Prague. Yes, that Prague—the capital of the Czech Republic! They were visiting family here. (smile)

Time began to move fast and I needed to be back to Sequim for an early dinner. Cape Flattery—a couple windy miles further up the road and a mile, and a half hike would put me to the edge of the United States. Or I could visit the Makah Cultural and Research Center Museum of the Makah Indian Nation. I chose the museum. 

I had been on a hunt for what the Indigenous people knew about “history before history”. I paid the $8.00 entrance fee and started the tour. Looking at the some of the 55,000 artifacts unearthed in the 1969-1970 archeological dig that had revealed itself during a fierce storm the winter before and reading placards along the way. It became evident that this poor village of Ozette (15 miles to the south) which was buried in a mudslide around 1700 had a hard existence but deep reverence for the natural world along with their strong spiritual beliefs. They lived at one with both the sea and mother nature. 

The exhibits talked about the seals and marine life—the fish—the salmon, the whales, wild berries and various plants that were used for smoking and cooking. Rocks were made into tools. So were the teeth of otters. A special dog-hair was woven into blankets. They made wooden storage boxes out of cedar, wove baskets out of cattail reeds and used big cedar canoes for their fishing expeditions. The museum even included a replica of a long-house where families lived and escaped the harsh weather. Grandmothers did most of the cooking. Seagull eggs were a favorite and staple. And the tribe’s name translates to “People who live by the rocks and seagulls.” Their tribal lands were carved up when Canada and the U.S., two governments, laid down their boundaries without consideration to the Makah People.

Looking at the books for sale in the gift store, a Makah elder spoke quietly to me. She said, “I don’t want to startle you.” I turned, honestly smiling, admitting I was so focused on the bookshelves, I hadn’t even noticed her sitting quietly on a bench. We chatted. She said, “It’s too bad we don’t have time for a cup of coffee.” I agreed. “I have to go and do this next tour group, they are waiting for me.” 

She gave me her email. I wish to remain in touch.

From Here to There . . . very different cultures, environments and points on the map. However, when we realize we are all one family, there will be peace. 

It is my hope. 

I will see this in my lifetime. 

I hope it is your dream, too.

And so it is.

About Cathrine Silver

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP, is a Shaman, Certified Holistic Health Counselor, and intuitive in private practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, Florida. She works collaboratively with clients on their desires regarding disease through a process called biological decoding. She writes about relationships, spirituality, and loss and helps others through theirs.  Suffering through her own loss in 2005, Cathrine motivates and empowers others to be the heroes in their own lives, becoming fully responsible for their own happiness, joy and well-being.

Cathrine holds a degree in Speech Communication from the University of Washington, is a graduate of the Institute for Integrative Nutrition and holds certifications in Reiki, Matrix Energetics, Hypnosis, Biological Decoding and Grief Counseling and is a Shamanic practitioner.  She is the author of the book, Riding the Light Beam: How Any Woman Can Find the Hero Inside.

www.Cathrinesilver.com (Website)

www.cathysilver.me (Blog)

cathysilverhealth@gmail.com (email)

Cathy Silver Holistic Healing (Facebook)

Cathy Silver, HC@CSilverWellness (Twitter)

Cathrine Silver (LinkedIn) 

Decoding Our Lives Podcast – Pending

Filed under: 2024, Adventures, America, Americans, Connection to the Earth, Exploring the Pacific Northwest, Key West, Lifestyle, Makah Indigenous People, Mother Nature, Neah Bay, Olympic National Park, Road Trip, Road Trip by Car, Road Trips, Roadway travel, Summer Travel Adventure, Summer Vacation Travel, Travel, Trees, USA, Vacation, Well-being | Tagged: , , , , | Leave a comment »

A SHOUT OUT TO TRUCKERS 📣 📣 📣

Posted on August 29, 2024 by Cathy Silver

I don’t know if 18 wheelers and long distance carriers still have handles. I don’t know much about the whole industry, actually, but I do know that when I cross the country there are hundreds—thousands on the back roadways—freeways—or state highways. They also park in rest areas and truck parking—so many you can’t count as you pass by. I know that driving can’t be an easy lifestyle or way to make a living ’cause when you ain’t drivin’—you ain’t gettin’ paid.

It seemed there were more on the road that I can remember as I made this last cross-country trip. The companies are too numerous to recall—except for maybe the major lines. It really doesn’t matter. There are a hell-of-a-lot of independent drivers, too. Each truck in someway seems to carry the personality or energy of the driver inside. Now a days—I even see women behind the wheel. I’m sure there have always been a few, but it was definitely a man’s world. I have observed what appears to be husband and wife also. That makes me smile.

When I fill up with gas, I like an easy on-and-off. It cuts the time of my stop, not getting snarled in local traffic. When you’re doing 500-700 miles a day—sometimes more—minutes count. I mention this, because “Loves” is one stop that seems to innately understand and have placed their stations outside the city limits both for autos and trucks. Land was probably less expensive, too.  I’m sure I’m not alone, because most of the time they are pretty busy with the hustle and bustle of road warriors. LOL Time is not necessarily money in my case, it’s more like, “How tired am I going to be when I stop for the night?”

What I hear over the loud speaker is, “Customer 74, shower #5 is ready for you.” I can’t imagine taking a shower in a very nice gas station—but at the end of the day—a gas station. To their credit, the restrooms have always been clean. Thank you! It’s a tough job.

The trucks I pass and those that pass me, are painted now in beautiful scarlet reds, parakeet greens—and, cobalt blues. A few oriole yellow, tiger orange or the grape, violet or lilac purple. The major lines, pretty much all have their logos and graphics which carry the basic black, white and red—yellow and green colors. 

You’ve probable seen them a million times—and not given it a second thought. I know they all mean something—and it really doesn’t matter. I also know the history of organized crime behind this industry—but those are the boys at the top pulling the strings—and I would dare to guess not the ones behind the wheel making sure we have groceries in our cities and therefore in our homes to feed our families. This is a network that is vast and almost unfathomable. Everything ultimately seems to come by truck. I read a few years back that our roadways handle more than 2 million trucks on the road at any one time. 

In this world of chaos, the truckers stand for something. Certainly the Canadian truckers did. They took a stand and were penalized severely for standing up to tyranny. They warned us to be careful of governments selling CBDC’s and how quickly those who control the electronic world of bank accounts can freeze our own when we stand up for ourselves against the elite oligarchs. On a side note, don’t fall for the “safe and convenient narrative”.  Just saying. That’s something that can’t be lost on us. We also must read between the lines. We’re only a few feet away from the same fate. I could take a deep dive into many areas of our system today which need revamping. I see the corruption hanging on for life—but today—I want to extend my gratitude for the hours and dangers and sacrifices that truckers make to be sure the goods and services we all need are delivered in a timely fashion—no matter what the weather and political climate throws their direction. 

If you know or have a chat with a local driver, it might be nice to acknowledge his commitment for really a thankless job. Here’s a shout out to the millions of truck drivers who spend their days and nights on the asphalt highways crisscrossing America. They are really the modern-day cowboys. Thank you!

About Cathrine Silver

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP, is a Shaman, Certified Holistic Health Counselor, and intuitive in private practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, Florida. She works collaboratively with clients on their desires regarding disease through a process called biological decoding. She writes about relationships, spirituality, and loss and help others through theirs.  Suffering through her own loss in 2005, Cathrine motivates and empowers others to be the heroes in their own lives, becoming fully responsible for their own happiness, joy and well-being.

Cathrine holds a degree in Speech Communication from the University of Washington, is a graduate of the Institute for Integrative Nutrition and holds certifications in Reiki, Matrix Energetics, Hypnosis, Biological Decoding and Grief Counseling and is a Shamanic practitioner.  She is the author of the book, Riding the Light Beam: How Any Woman Can Find the Hero Inside.

www.Cathrinesilver.com (Website)

www.cathysilver.me (Blog)

cathysilverhealth@gmail.com (email)

Cathy Silver Holistic Healing (Facebook)

Cathy Silver, HC@CSilverWellness (Twitter)

Cathrine Silver (LinkedIn) 

Decoding Our Lives Podcast – Pending

Filed under: 18 Wheelers, 2024, Adventures, America, Americans, Big Trucks, Lifestyle, Pay-it-Forward, Roadway travel, Summer Travel Adventure, Transportation, Travel, Uncategorized, USA | Tagged: , , , , , , | Leave a comment »

The Mayonnaise Jar

Posted on June 26, 2024 by Cathy Silver

Do we in this hurried lifestyle always take time to enjoy the little things? Usually not, is my guess. We tell ourselves tomorrow. Next week. Next year. In the fall. Winter vacation. When the kids are in college. You name, it we have about a million reasons not to celebrate the smallest gestures which ultimately create our happiness and perhaps just a little more satisfaction in life. 

It seems it’s never the big events—although memorable in many ways—which usually occur with much fanfare and expectation—and can so often disappoint. As we begin the “official” summer season with the celebration of last week’s summer solstice, I urge you to plan a few simple, even spontaneous, cook-outs—picnics—camping—hiking—boating—swimming—car rides—parks—or adventures to see a few old friends—or new friends. Perhaps having cup a coffee or hamburgers on the grill might be ‘just what the Universe ordered’.  

I don’t know the original author. The Mayonnaise Jar is an old favorite of mine. Maybe yours, too? Needless to say, a good reminder to enjoy the moment. At the end of the day, it is these moments that make our life special—and so worth living our life. And summer is a perfect time for memories. If not now, when?

“When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar… and the coffee…

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him.  When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls.  He then asked the students if the jar was full.  They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar.  He shook the jar lightly.  The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.  He then asked the students again if the jar was full.  They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.  Of course, the sand filled up everything else.  He asked once more if the jar was full.  The students responded with an unanimous “yes.”

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand.  The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, ” I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.  The golf balls are the important things-your God, family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions-things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.  The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, and your car.  The sand is everything else-the small stuff.”

“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.  The same goes for life.  If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you.  Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.  Play with your children.  Take time to get medical checkups.  Take your partner out to dinner.  Play another 18.  There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal.  Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter.  Set your priorities.  The rest is just sand.”

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.

The professor smiled.  “I’m glad you asked.  It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.”

About Cathrine Silver

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP, is a Shaman, Certified Holistic Health Counselor, and intuitive in private practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, Florida. She works collaboratively with clients on their desires regarding disease through a process called biological decoding. She writes about relationships, spirituality, and loss and help others through theirs.  Suffering through her own loss in 2005, Cathrine motivates and empowers others to be the heroes in their own lives, becoming fully responsible for their own happiness, joy and well-being.

Cathrine holds a degree in Speech Communication from the University of Washington, is a graduate of the Institute for Integrative Nutrition and holds certifications in Reiki, Matrix Energetics, Hypnosis, Biological Decoding and Grief Counseling and is a Shamanic practitioner.  She is the author of the book, Riding the Light Beam: How Any Woman Can Find the Hero Inside.

www.Cathrinesilver.com (Website)

www.cathysilver.me (Blog)

cathysilverhealth@gmail.com (email)

Cathy Silver Holistic Healing (Facebook)

Cathy Silver, HC@CSilverWellness (Twitter)

Cathrine Silver (LinkedIn) 

Decoding Our Lives Podcast – Pending

Filed under: 2024, Adventures, Change, Choices, choice point, COMMUNICATION, Compassion, Consciousness, Empowerment, Food for Thought, Getting what we want in Life, Good News, Healthy Living, Inspiration, Lifestyle, Love and Life, Pleasantville, Stress reduction, Stress relief, Summer Travel Adventure, Summer Vacation Travel, Well-being | Tagged: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment »

What was that? Multidimensional Awareness happening NOW? 

Posted on September 27, 2021 by Cathy Silver

I set out about 5:00 pm to walk about 40 minutes; certainly not a long distance marathon, but one that would allow me to release a stressful phone conversation with my friend Brad regarding the new Delta variant.  It was a nice Northwest kind of summer day—about 75º, the sun going in and out behind the clouds. This was a walk I had been enjoying almost every afternoon as of late.  

Many bicycles, and an occasional horse and rider shared this paved walking path—which was my normal experience each day.  Today, I had passed a couple initially on my way ‘out’. The husband/father was in the lead and attached to his bike, a child carrier. The mother/wife was following on her own bike close behind. Both had helmets—she a pink T-shirt with bold white letters—and as we quickly passed each other, exchanged friendly smiles and hellos.

I had reached my turning point and was headed back to the car. About halfway down the Centennial Trail-path, I saw the family of three approaching. We were in opposite “lanes” this time. They had put on music, which audibly grabbed my attention. It seemed like a good-ole 70’s melody, but a bit odd on a nature trail, I reasoned. I smiled to say hello again, and my eyes were pulled to the bike trailer in tow. This time I had a good look at the child in the carrier. She looked,11ish, wearing black slacks, a pink bubblegum colored shirt, but clearly a special needs child.

 My thoughts were of love, and the acceptance and devotion these parents clearly had for their daughter. However, it is what happened next, that startled me. As the trio breezed past me, and I felt a tremendous, almost haunting chill. It was a chill that hung with me for a very long time—minutes—and even made my head feel peculiar; that third-eye pineal trigger. It was the same feeling I noticed when I was around a channeling from Kryon—or other huge multidimensional energy groups at a few of the esoteric conferences I had attended over the years. But that had context, and something I “understood”; it just happened at those times, and I accepted the mystery behind such feelings.

 So, what had just happened? I continued to walk, a bit shaken, at least surprised and mildly confused, still feeling the tremendous wave of body chills. It wasn’t a ghost for god’s sake, the child was resting comfortably in the black bike trailer, listening to tunes, being carried along by her parents—in the middle of a nature trail—with similes and love. 

I had an encounter at a traffic light with a homeless woman a number of years ago—and when our eyes met, I recognized an angelic presence. I saw it in her eyes; colorless, invisible and no physical form, but affected me deeply in the moment and today. (I have chills, big, big chills again as I type this last sentence. Confirmation?) I believe, the souls of our individual angelic fragments touched this afternoon with no agenda. I saw love. She felt love and so did I. It must have been a divine-cosmic love, for there is no designation; no naming. No context to place in a box. It simply exists in a space within the space; somewhere in the depths of our inner-being, and we shared something big.

 I experienced “something” out of this 3D reality, that has no words, yet is as real as the path I walked, the fresh air I was breathing, and the trees that surrounded me. Did we change each other? I can’t answer that. I don’t even know what it was. This was a new experience for me. I felt there was something much bigger that I had participated in—and I wonder what will come next? I am curious. And, yet, there is also a part of me that planned this encounter—that is out of time and space—and certainly out of the intellectual understanding our brain and ego so enjoy and often times need or require. 

Multidimensional energies cannot be sorted, numbered, placed or labeled. I like to call these things magic. So out of the realm of what we expect, know and comprehend. Did her parents know how she affected others? Or was the afternoon bike ride something they just did on a summery Northwest day—as the sun filtered through the trees and the blue sky and clouds began to close the day? You fill in the blank. 

Filed under: Adventures, COMMUNICATION, Compassion, Consciousness, Consciousness Increasing, Earth Angels, Food for Thought, Future of Humanity, Inspiration, learning lessons of love, Light Languages, Love and Life, Love and purpose, Multi-dimensional energies, Multidimensional DNA, Multidimensional Humans, Non-verbal Communication, Old Energy Human vs New Energy Human, Spirituality, Summer Travel Adventure, The Field, The New Human, Time and Space, Transformation and empowerment, Uncategorized, UNITY | Tagged: , | Leave a comment »

Willard

Posted on August 30, 2019 by Cathy Silver

You know, every once in a while, someone comes along—and you have a hard time forgetting them. Maybe it’s a lover? A teacher? A bestie from school? Willard was none of those things, but an unforgettable pillar of strength, courage and love.

I had picked up (another) Cathy in Denver. We knew each other from the Pineal Tones choirs, and she offered to join me on the last leg of my journey home. I wanted to camp,  and being by myself in the woods—didn’t seem like such an astute idea. There was always safety in numbers, right?

So, at her suggestion, we had landed at the Loft Mountain Campground, which is part of the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia, also known as The Blue Ridge Mountains. The forecast called for rain, this particular Wednesday, our first day in the park, so we ventured off to Mt. Vernon—beloved home of George Washington, and a figure near and dear to my heart. The next day, we agreed to hike down to what was called

Lower Doyles River Falls, weather cooperating. And, so it was that we set off down the trail to the falls. We were just getting started when we came upon an older gentleman standing off the path dressed appropriately in hiking boots, and wearing long hiking style khaki pants, buttoned shirt, army green fishing vest, cap and glasses on a cord hanging around his neck. We stopped to say hello, and he showed us a small acorn under his magnifying glass. He confided that he was an artist—but seemed somewhat shaken after our conversation—as we parted ways—-asking if it was alright if we gave him a hug good-bye.

I had seen him at his campsite when we slowly drove the asphalt drive into the campground, looking for the spot to we would call home for the next three days. However—somehow his apparent circumstances stood out from the “normal” RV,  family, couple or weekend hiker; he was sorting things at his picnic table, as we passed by.

After our “chance” encounter, we visited him several more times, and invited him to our campsite two nights later to enjoy the campfire. He shared his artwork, which was neatly contained in a folder. His story seems unremarkable—just a guy traveling by himself—camping—until you realize that he was 86 years old and had gotten wind that “they” were getting ready to place him in a nursing home. What, I thought? There was nothing about this man that warranted placing him in a facility for the aged or ill. He

 shared that he had lived in Vermont for 40+ years—built his home there. His wife of many years had passed several years before and he had a daughter who lived in the LA area. He had a sister that wanted him to live with her in Virginia.

Getting wind of obviously someone’s else’s plans for him, he told us that he bought a copy of Consumer Reports—found the most reliable and economical car they advised and traded in his old one. He found a close-out tent for $24.00 and collected the rest of the miscellaneous camping supplies he would need—and off he went. Arizona was where he spent last winter and felt he would be heading back that way when the weather began to turn. He knew he didn’t want to be around the inclement winters because as he said, he didn’t want to slip on the ice and break a hip.

My mind since, has reflected back to my own Mother and her circumstances and her desire to live her remaining days in her home; a wish my brother-in-law refused to honor. Things are not always as they seem. But, Willard’s story brings up many ideas about parking people in nursing homes—when they are in fact vibrant, and “not ready” to be housed in group homes. Where is the freedom to choose? And, where does that truth lie?

As we were parting good-bye, we wished him well on his journey. He wished us well too. There was a soul connection and something profound and unspoken, we all knew; we could feel it. We also knew that there would be no way to remain in contact; this was it. No email. A sister’s address for legal purposes. A flip phone with limited airtime. No text. I had the knowing it was just the way it was meant to be. As we said our good-byes, he stopped. “You know, on the trail, that first day, I was a bit shaken,” he confided. I had witnessed his welling-up but had said nothing. I saw your light, he said, and it startled me. I smiled and so did Cathy. “I am keeping this as a reminder, he softly noted looked us in the eyes and then slid the tiny acorn into his shirt pocket. I smiled again and gave him another hug. We walked away.

Ironically, the acorn, is a symbol of strength and power. That was who he was—and that was what he held in his hand. It is the same for us. No matter where our life starts—or from our own humble beginnings, we All have the ability, just like the Willard and the tiny acorn. We have the strength like the mighty oak; it’s not inside some of us. It’s inside All of us! We need only to believe. Namasté

 

ELEnxtZBRPuo2QjnL7mPOw

 

About Cathrine Silver

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP, is a Certified Holistic Health Coach in private practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, Florida. She works collaboratively with clients on their desires regarding disease, relationships, spirituality, and loss. Suffering through her own loss in 2005, Cathrine motivates and empowers others to be the heroes in their own lives, becoming fully responsible for their own happiness, joy and well-being.

Cathrine holds a degree in Speech Communication from the University of Washington, is a graduate of the Institute for Integrative Nutrition and holds certifications in Reiki, Matrix Energetics, Hypnosis, Biological Decoding and Grief Counseling. She is the author of the book, Riding the Light Beam: How Any Woman Can Find the Hero

www.Cathrinesilver.com (Website)

www.cathysilver.me (Blog)

cathysilverhealth@gmail.com (email)

Cathy Silver Holistic Healing (Facebook)

Filed under: 2019, Aging, America, Americans, Camping, Choices, choice point, Compassion, Connection to the Earth, Consciousness, Doing what we Love, Empowerment, Energies of Healing, Food for Thought, Getting what we want in Life, Healthy Living, learning lessons of love, Living our truth, Love and Life, Love and purpose, Mother Nature, Road Trip, Road Trip by Car, Road Trips, Self-help, Self-love, Spirituality, Summer Travel Adventure, Summer Vacation Travel, Tent Camping, Transformation and empowerment, Uncategorized, UNITY, USA, Vacation, Well-being, Wholeness | Leave a comment »

A piece of Cake

Posted on July 30, 2019 by Cathy Silver

Sometimes things are just plain unexplainable, period. We call it synchronicity and coincidence, but speaking now, for myself, amazes me whenever these “chance” alignments occur. I’ve heard it referred to ‘physics with an attitude’. (And, infinite LOVE is at the center of physics.) Examples in real life though, help us to believe that the Universe conspires to bring like-minded things together in a vibrational sequence. It’s about living in the moment, being open to possibilities and certainly going with the flow.

Some things just seem to be beyond our control. Or perhaps, everything is?  Are we riding in the passenger seat, while larger invisible life forces known as our higher self and soul drive things around us based on our very personal intent? We are after all co-creators, right? Or sometimes, we deliver the messages of what others’ need to hear—or are in need of? Do we serve as divine message carrier?  More and more, I am beginning to feel this is Truth with a capital T.

I was out on the Olympic Peninsula for just about the entire month of July. I had volunteered to make dinner for friends, and the decision as to the menu was entirely up to me. After a number of considerations—I decided homemade pizza—sans homemade crust; store bought refrigerated crust would have to do this round. Scrolling mentally through my mental list of ingredients, I quickly realized, my pizza stones were at home in Florida. I was spending more and more time on the Peninsula, so, why not invest in the proper equipment and leave it here? Easy thought and idea, huh?  As you know, many things do not go as planned, and this was no exception!

With instant delivery, overnight service and that giant known as Amazon, I assumed this purchase would be a piece of cake.  My Friend Brad didn’t have a mailbox at his Sequim home, but I thought for sure, Amazon would have lockers nearby. After all, Ft. Lauderdale certainly did, and I snubbed them every time I walked into the local Whole Foods.

To make a long story short, Amazon and Walmart did not have what I wanted—or should I say—couldn’t get it to me with the speed I had become accustom to. It was Wednesday and dinner was Friday. Plan B: There had to be one.  

Now Sequim is the gateway to the Olympic rain forest, the Pacific Ocean and the playground for hikers and RV’s. But, it’s often a challenge to manifest things in an instant or so I thought!  Therefore, an idea occurred. I’ll call this Plan B. I would drive the 40 minutes to the touristy town of Port Townsend. I had visited there a few years ago, and It seemed to me there was a small kitchen store. They certainly would have the large pizza stone I was in search of. And, so the adventure unfolded. 

On the way into town, I stopped at the Goodwill. You know, one man’s unwanted clutter is another man’s treasure. No pizza stone, but a bargain for a William-Sonoma muffin tin. 🙂 Onward ho . . . I had spoken to Brad’s neighbor on Whidbey Island to see if she was available to meet in PT for lunch. “Oh, Cathy,” she said, I am elbows deep in cookie dough, going to be at my daughter’s house tomorrow.” “Next time, raincheck,” and I hung up the phone.  During our brief phone conversation, Joan had suggested the Mercantile Quimper, just beyond the ferry loading dock. The store was cute, and had a lot of stuff—in fact small 12” pizza stones, but that wasn’t what I had in mind. I continued my quest . . . the cooking store, the Green Eyeshade, back to What’s Cookin’, Don’s pharmacy (which still had a working soda fountain), Henries Hardware, and back up the hill out of town. I had passed Habit for Humanity’s store on the way in and decided to give it a go. Who knew what I might find in peoples’ discarded household articles and unwanted items? I parked, and spoke to an employee loading chairs into an elderly woman’s Toyota as I walked to the entrance. “Pizza stone, yea, we get them from time to time, but they’re not a high demand item.” I nodded my head in agreement, I guessed he was right. And, this was where things got interesting . . . 

I followed his instructions and soon found myself in their “kitchen” department. Quickly, another female employee greeted me, and asked me what I was looking for. I explained my quest—and she shook her head. “The woman who runs this department is off today, but I haven’t seen one lately.” Shortly, a conversation ensued as I was obviously talking to another cook like myself and we were discussing the finer points of homemade pizza and alternatives to my pizza stone dilemma. Minutes later, a slender 40ish looking man in a blue t-shirt and jeans appeared from around the corner. “Excuse me”, he said politely, “I am sorry, but I overheard your conversation, and I have a pizza stone if you’d like it.” Wow, that would be fantastic I thought and the woman and I glanced quickly at each other. “No charge—I will give it to you.” He continued, “my wife doesn’t like it, and she told me to get rid of it. You can have it.” I shook my head and smiled, “sure, that would be great. Thank you.” 

He, Matt—now I knew his name, had another stop in town before heading back to his house. We traded numbers, and he said he would text me when he arrived back at his house. In the meantime, I decided a quick bite to eat would kill the hour or so wait, and based on the suggestions from the women at the counter, I headed down the road to find The Cup for a bowl of chowder.  “Wow. That was divine intervention” said another older employee who stood behind the counter as I headed out the door. Yes, it was! 

It was a cute little restaurant in what looked like an old remolded house—painted latte-brown with a few scattered red umbrella’s and some outdoor furniture—for those celebrated warm days in the Northwest. I was seated and ordered my chowder, grabbed a piece of the local paper to read and I waited for my food. As I paid my tab, I wanted to leave the waitress a larger tip and dug into my wallet to pull out a Susan B. Anthony coin that had been riding in my wallet for months. I looked up, most of the lunch crowd had disappeared, and I caught her eye. “I’m leaving this dollar and I wanted to let you know, it wasn’t a quarter—with the other singles on the change tray,” I said smiling. “I collect those for my grandson, thank you”, she said. We chatted for a minute about her grandkids, and then I got up and headed the towards to the door. 

Now, I happen to be wearing my purple WASHINGTON husky wind breaker that my father had sent me several years ago—and a man working behind the counter looked at me, and asked me, “Did you play ball for Washington?” “Yes, actually I did—about a 100 years ago”—and smiled back, and stoping to talk for a moment. I can’t remember the exact sequence of our chat, but I had to be me—and shortly into our “light” conversation, I stopped and said, “You know, you were born magnificent.” He was wearing a baseball cap and pulled it over his eyes and bent his head downward, placing his hands on the high counter in front of me that separated us. I continued, “Maybe that’s the real reason I came in today?” “You know we all carry divinity inside—but sometimes we just need to be reminded.” We are all part of the One.” With that, I detected, for whatever reason—and whatever his story caused a welling-up deep emotional reaction.  I reached over to the counter, where he had laid his hands, and put mine on top of his, giving his fingers a squeeze. He gave my little finger a squeeze back.  He had had all he could take and I silently walked out the door. 

Whatever your Truth, sometimes we all need to be reminded of our divine magnificence. I left the restaurant, and followed my GPS to Matt’s house, where I happily accepted his gift, and my new pizza stone. I left Port Townsend with a smile. There were so many things to be grateful for—and the Universe had conspired in a most unique and exciting way to make everything happen perfectly. I just followed the cosmic crumbs! It had been a day of soft sweetness—and the Universe had delivered me a delicious piece of cosmic cake.

 

Filed under: 2019, COMMUNICATION, Compassion, Consciousness, Consciousness Increasing, Earth Angels, Empowerment, Energies of Healing, Food for Thought, Future of Earth, Future of Humanity, Future of Humans, Healthy Dessert, Healthy Living, Heart Energy, Inspiration, learning lessons of love, Living our truth, Love and Life, Love and purpose, metaphysical, metaphysics, Multi-dimensional energies, new paradigm, Non-verbal Communication, Old Energy Human vs New Energy Human, Relationships, Self-love, Spirit, Spirituality, Summer Travel Adventure, Summer Vacation Travel, Time and Space, Transformation and empowerment, Uncategorized, UNITY, Well-being, What's Love | Leave a comment »

Blowing in the Wind

Posted on July 2, 2019 by Cathy Silver

The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind, sang Bob Dylan in 1963.  Was there an even deeper message within the song and its famed lyrics?  A message for humanity and our potentials here on Earth, perhaps?

Fast forward to June 2019. Over the equinox, I attended a very esoteric conference at Mt. Shasta. It’s not for everyone, but it’s “my thing”. I have also participated in a number of Dr. Todd’s pineal tone choirs—where we sing special tones—a “light language” with intentions like “Returning to the first breath of source”. During these choirs, one of the pair sets we “sing/chant” is the sound of the wind—the group of 400+ of us make quite a breeze.  All this, of course, to our Star Mothers; those who gave us the divine spark and the consciousness to seek our true nature, our Magnificence and our divine cosmic roots. Perhaps, too much for some to even imagine and eye-rolling for others. It’s always bigger—much bigger. We often get stuck inside our box.

I have to preface this, because during my “calling” up the mountain and then subsequently thereafter, the wind seemed to speak to me in a multidimensional way that my consciousness and my 3D linearity could not understand, but my soul, higher self and heart seemed to recognize. Out of total silence, came a breeze at the top of the trees. What were they trying to tell me?

In that nano second, I asked myself, could this be a form of communication? A soft message—that I have yet to understand? My intuition “nodded” the affirmative. Now, do I understand it? No. Do I believe it? Yes. Many things that occur on this earth plane have very little understanding in our modern day “know it all” world. But, I believe there is more—vastly more, we do not understand that is simply discounted as ridiculous, laughable, absurd and “unscientific” by most. You dear reader may be one? However, history tells us that there are many things the ancients “knew”, that we are just confirming as truth. What will be verified in a thousand, or more years beyond today?

The Australian Indigenous teach that all living things contain a spirit. They say it is our true nature. To look at a spirit of the trees is a comprehensive look at how our beautiful trees serve, delight and have the potential to heal us during our time here on planet earth. The spirit of trees reminds us we are all one living thing connected together by the universal glue of love according to psychic and medium Ian Scott.

Forest ecologist Dr Suzanne Simard, from the University of British Colombia, writes that the trees actually communicate with each other. What about with us? The Fox tribe of the Native Americans, also known as the Meskwaki believed that the spirits of their ancestors lived in cedar trees and murmuring in the wind—was the ancestors’ voices. It is also a Native American belief that we must respect, appreciate and protect all life. That includes the natural world and animals.

Do the trees want to share a deeper knowledge? We share a common home. Isn’t it time to honor the Earth as a true soul group? A philosophy that says now is the time to respect and honor each other as a piece of divinity. WE must transcend the low thoughts of winner take all, and instead decide that we all can live in peace, harmony, tolerance, love and compassion towards each other. There is enough for ALL.

Nature has created a balance. Can we live that way as well? What do the forests, the rivers, the mountains and the animals want to teach us?  Or as Dylan sang in the 60’s, “How many times can a man turn his head pretending he just doesn’t see?”

 

 

 

 

 

Filed under: 2019, California, COMMUNICATION, Connection to the Earth, Consciousness, Food for Thought, Light Languages, Man's Connection to Gaia, Mother Nature, Messages from Gaia, metaphysical, metaphysics, Mother Nature, Mt. Shasta, Multi-dimensional energies, Soul Communication, Soul Relationships, Spirit, Spirituality, Summer Travel Adventure, Summer Vacation Travel, Trees | Leave a comment »

“More Stars in the Sky Than Grains of Sand on Earth.”

Posted on August 5, 2017 by Cathy Silver

I have read that there are more stars in the sky than grains of sand on the Earth, and it certainly seemed to be true the night Brad and I camped at Whiskeytown Shasta – Trinity National Recreation Area in northern California. The vastness of the Universe has held humanity’s attention for eons—and tonight was no exception for me. It was a rather spontaneous stop garnered by a quick internet search earlier that afternoon.  Yes, we were able to reserve a camp spot—and even pay the nominal fee over the phone with a credit card.  That was the easy part. As was our greeting by the National Park security who checked our name off the list and gave us verbal instructions and a cryptic map which designated our “C-16” spot that would be our “home” and rest spot for the night. However, by the time we reached the parking lot—complete darkness had set in—and in spite to producing two small flashlights—the layout—the paths—the markings and the darkness made the discovery of our campsite a bit of a challenge.  Was this a metaphor for us, for humanity as well?

Our persistence paid off and after about 45 minutes, our 3-4 minute walk downhill to the water and our camp site numerous times had us somewhat settled in—tent, sleeping bags and even two folding chairs—which provided the scenic views to the heavens.  We literally tailgated on the back of the pickup truck on the asphalt parking lot finishing cold chicken and fruit and by 11:00 P.M. found ourselves back down sitting in our observation chairs—sipping a glass of wine and relaxing in the fairly quiet wilderness.  (The “neighbors” kids finally began to get quiet and the dog was at last peaceful—lol—woof-woof.) So much as a break from suburbia!

As I stared out into the heavens, I wondered, what lay beyond the boundaries of our human existence?  Who were we really, behind the cloaked veil that our daily lives consumed?  And, where did we come from?  There are many who believe that we are seeded from the stars—that philosophy, when I thought about it, felt right.  Were we seeded from the Pleadians two hundred thousand years ago?  Were these light beings our divine parents from a lineage billions of years old?   Were we the “new kids” on the block? There were many indigenous and ancient peoples whose creation story linked us to the stars—and each story to each other, even though there was no means of communication between them.  These stories were etched and painted upon the caves and artifacts over the millennium.  There were sightings of lights where no electricity existed—Mt. Shasta was certainly one—Hawaii and Uluru were other places of magic. Our knowledge so limited, and our technology still primitive—gave us little understanding of the vastness and infinite makings of the multiverses and galaxies beyond our closest frontiers.

And, so it was, as I drifted off to sleep—thinking about my adventure to east Texas to reclaim my old MGB with my friend Brad and the stars that filled my imagination and my fascination.  It had been a long hot day and we had already crossed many miles when my tired body laid upon the air mattress. What did we really know?

Filed under: 2017, America, California, Camping, Food for Thought, holidays, Road Trip, Road Trip by Car, Road Trips, Spirit, Spirituality, Summer Travel Adventure, Summer Vacation Travel, Tent Camping, Vacation | Tagged: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment »

Battle Cruiser

Posted on July 29, 2017 by Cathy Silver

I met the truck only the afternoon before.  My friend Brad had named it the Battle Cruiser with the plate to match: BTLCRSR.  I must admit, it was certainly not a pretty sight. The yellow paint faded—exposed rust in certain places and green moss covering parts of the exterior and hood. It’s four and a half decades were evident; it was a work horse.

After some coaxing, the loyal truck came to life.  I was happy to see the life return as the deep throaty motor sounded like a tired warrior awakening as daybreak arose too early: Brad pumped the gas pedal and cajoled the old Ford pickup into being.

I had a mission—and needed the Battle Cruiser’s help.  The instructions from Brad were simply that first gear was not necessary—to low a gear to start. “Use second” he said. Easy enough I thought and nodded, as I climbed in the next morning and sat in the driver’s seat, starting the engine.  After decades of smaller and smaller cars—and trucks—this old relic was immense.  As tall as I am—and as long a reach as I have—I could not, even leaning over and stretching, open and unlock the passenger door from the inside.   Were the vehicles really this big???  Wow.

And, so it was, I shifted the truck into gear, lifted the clutch and headed up the wooded driveway finding my way to the 101 and to the Kingston-Edmonds ferry off the Olympic Peninsula and toward Bellevue; my childhood home. I thought about my mission to save the trash burner—a request out of my Mother’s house—before it’s fate met the awaiting bulldozer; demolishing it to the ground.  Another era gone.  As I pulled out of the driveway and on to the Sequim neighborhood graveled road, I felt my Father sitting in the passenger’s seat.  Perhaps, he felt my bit of nervousness, apprehension, or trepidation with the old truck?  At any rate, I felt the reassurance as the memories of familiar childhood adventures surfaced.  This time however, I was driving—and he was riding.  I continued my drive south 42 miles to the Washington State Ferry terminal; my mind concentrating on the road as I roared along feeling like something out of Mad-Max Road Fury.

I thought about the laughter that ensued when I voiced my request for the trash burner; I had my reasons and I didn’t really care what anyone thought.  I pulled up to the toll booth to purchase my round-trip fare.   “Lane six”, said the woman in the toll booth as she handed me my change and receipt.  I smiled and thanked her, easing the truck back into gear and driving forward into my designated parking lane to await the Ferry’s arrival into Kingston terminal. Settled, I hopped out of the Battle Cruiser and headed up to grab a cup of coffee—standing in line—I heard someone shout—“Here comes the ferry.”  I abandoned the line and headed back to where the truck was parked.  The adventure had been so smooth thus far and all was going as planned.  Or so I thought.

Lane five moved beside me and I turned the key in the ignition to start the engine.  Nothing. I turned the key off and on once again.  Nothing. I pumped the gas pedal and tried several more times to start the engine . . . nothing.  Not even a peep from the mechanical beast from which I sat behind the steering wheel slightly panicked and watching the other vehicles and passengers drive past me and onto the loading dock—and onto the green and white vessel that crosses Puget Sound so regularly.

“Are you in trouble?” the WSF* system employee shouted, I nodded—“yes, I think I am,” I answered back.

“I’ll get someone to help you.” And, I climbed out of the Battle Cruiser wondering, what just happened?

Within minutes, another, employee named Sarah had wheeled over a portable battery charger to jump the truck.  She stopped—and pointed to the winch on the front bumper.  I turned my head and stared, “Oh, sh-t,” there was smoke coming from the winch. Whirling back towards the terminal—she said—“I’ll be right back—stand back.” I looked at the winch with disbelief, and within moments she was back with a large fire extinguisher ready to douse any flame should it appear and this situation become worse.   With the 11:55 am ferry loaded—I watched my ride sail away—wondering how long I would be sitting on the Kingston dock—somewhat helpless and wondering what was next?

Before I realized, there was more than five WSF employees who appeared from almost nowhere—pitching in to work on the truck. Now, I will tell you, that I feel I have many talents—but auto mechanic—is NOT one.  I was raised helping my Dad with horses, not automobiles and besides having the oil changed, stopping for gas or running the car through the car wash—my desire ended there.  So, the fact that this help had arrived with a positive attitude and generous giving spirit brought me tremendous gratitude to my uncertain circumstances. I explained, that I had just met the truck the previous afternoon . . . it was on loan from a friend.

And, so with an obvious quick assessment of a trauma medic, it was agreed that the winch wires needed to be cut; disconnect the source of the problem! In agreement and with a plan, we began, focused on the task at hand.  I choose to look under the front seat for something that might be able to help cut the wires to the bilious dying winch—and happily came up with a small pair of wire cutters.  Phoning Brad, I explained the dilemma and what had happened.   He offered to come save me—but I told him I thought I was in good hands; I would certainly let him know if I needed his help.

As I turned around to offer the red-handled tool to my new “pit crew” a man two rows over held a crescent wrench, another pair of cutters and gloves.  He began to disconnect the battery.  I turned back around and another lady asked for water.  I handed her mine—and she worked with precision filling the dehydrated battery cells.  I glanced over and noticed that another gentleman was leaning over the front fender and working in hyper speed skillfully cleaning contacts and then rerouting the wires that connected the solenoid, to the battery and to the ailing winch.  (Which apparently was the reason the truck wasn’t starting when jumped.)  This man, wearing a bright orange T-shirt with motorcycle designs, white hair and beard, and half smoked cigarette hanging from his mouth worked with such expertise we all sort of stepped back; everyone seemed to sense his mastery.  Before long, the “bull” arrived and another attempt at starting the disabled Battle Cruiser began.  We—the truck and I— had definitely developed a bond since I had first climbed aboard hours before.  This time when I turned the ignition—the resuscitation of the Battle Cruiser was successful and it issued it’s healthy roar.  I literally welled up as the “pit crew” and other waiting passengers in line clapped and cheered at our triumphal achievement.  I stepped out with a big smile and thanked everyone. The battery cable clips came off and the hood came down—just as the next ferry was pulling into the dock.  The lady in the car next to me handed me a wet wipe—she said, “they’re really for make-up but I think they will work great for the grease on your hands.”  I hadn’t even noticed.  Another woman came up to me—and said, “If they load and you aren’t signaled—please go ahead to me.” I thanked her too.   This was a reminder of humanity at its best.

I waved and honked in gratitude as “Sarah” waved me on . . . I was the first one on the ferry for that crossing and I felt very honored.

I reflected back on all the chaos in Washington D.C—the hatred and vitriol spewed by so many these days. There was certainly no fence sitting anymore; all was being revealed.  You could not be someone you weren’t.  I believe deeply we are all the same; okay—we may look a bit different—but we are all pieces of the divine.  I believed humanity was proving it’s chance for goodness and light; in fact we seemed to be at war with the darkness: greed and lack of integrity and hatefulness.

The event on the Kingston Dock certainly cemented my belief in humanity’s goodness—something I wished the evening news focused on more—not the inherent fear, fear and fear they sold to their vulnerable audiences daily. It is our power of intent—our desire of compassion—and our tolerances and acceptances of our differences which make us strong.  Our common goal must be one of LOVE—which if you haven’t heard, is the most powerful force in the Universe.  LOVE changes physical things and it will change our world too.  The time is now—and we are the Ones! The powerful  difference we each make based on our choices every day changes our world. And, that’s the world I choose to see and live in.

The rest of the trip was seamless and the trash burner is safely stored in Sequim—waiting for its return to service.  I on the other hand—look forward to the next adventure—whenever and however it presents itself. Namasté.

“Inspired Wellness from Within”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

Cathrine Silver is a Board Certified holistic counselor with a practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, FL. She is the author of the book, Riding the Light Beam: How Any Woman Can Find the Hero Inside available at Amazon.com. She can be contacted via email at cathysilverhealth@gmail.com. For more information visit www.CathrineSilver.com.

As a post note:  I learned that the man in the orange T-shirt name was Richard.  He was a master mechanic and forensic scientist from the Tri-Cities who had been visiting his wife whose daughter was due to have surgery.  I had gone upstairs on the ferry to use the restroom and have a snack.  I purchased clam chowder and a water—and upon walking up to the cashier—made a last minute decision to add a beer.  LOL—it had been quite a morning.  I sat down—and Richard walked by.  I called his name, and asked him if he drank beer.  He replied—“On occasion.” 

“Can I buy you a beer”, I enquired? He nodded.  I got up and went back to the cashier and returned to the cafeteria where Richard sat.  “It’s the least I can do.”  “Thank you for everything” I said—“I have a feeling—I would still be sitting on the dock without you stopping by.”  He said, “I saw the hood of the truck raised.  I travel with my tools.” 

 I will always be grateful for all who gave me help that day.  On some level, we are always watched over—and he was one of my Earth Angels that day.  I was glad I could offer the simple gesture of thanks. 

*Washington State Ferry

Filed under: 2017, America, Choices, choice point, Consciousness, Consciousness Increasing, Dark and Light Energy, fear, Food for Thought, Future of Earth, Future of Humanity, Heart Energy, HUMANITY GROWING UP, inclusion/exclusion, Living our truth, Love and Life, Old Energy Human vs New Energy Human, Summer Travel Adventure, Summer Vacation Travel, The New Human, Transformation and empowerment, UNITY, Vacation, Washington State Ferry System Experience | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment »