A Spirited Cassadaga Adventure

Cassadaga is a wonderful place, full of charm and history. The town is especially known for its large population of psychics and mediums, and has been referred to as “The Psychic Capital of the World.” To have that many “sensitive” people in the same place seems to raise the vibration, and I felt my own sensitivity heightened. 

The place buzzes with an energy that almost reminds me of Las Vegas - like you could stay up all night and never get tired. The gift shops are loaded with fun items: stones and gems that resonate with discernable energy signatures, new age books, jewelry, candles, incense, smudge kits, and curios. While looking around amidst the stones and other spiritual trinkets, I noticed a tube of poison ivy cream that didn’t seem to fit in, but I hardly gave it another thought. It was in the giftshop of the Cassadaga hotel, where we were staying. The hotel was built in 1894, and was beautifully preserved and quite comfortable. The front desk receptionist reported that the place is haunted with friendly spirits.

Soon after we arrived on Friday, we attended a tea leaves reading class, where we learned how to read tea leaves in order to forecast the future. Loose tea is used, and you actually get to drink the tea first, which is pretty sweet. High tea was already one of my favorite pastimes - with the finger sandwiches and the fine cheeses and pastries and scones and pate and champagne and good company (and tea). Add in the ability to forecast the future, and High Tea now goes to 11.

Reading tea leaves is not as mystical and mysterious as you may think. It mainly involves trying to discern what pictures and symbols you see in the loose tea left in your cup and saucer after you drink your delicious tea. It relies on your ability to hear your inner voice and connect with your inner wisdom, traits that yoga helps us tap into.

And yoga was a big part of why we were at Cassadaga. We had a yoga class Friday night after our tea leaves, and another Saturday and Sunday morning. The yoga focused on connecting to the energetic and healing aspects of the practice so as to hear and perceive this inner wisdom more clearly. Cassadaga seemed the perfect location to explore these more subtle aspects of yoga.

And the grounds of Cassadaga are beautiful. There are several parks and preserved natural areas ripe for exploring. On Saturday, I was determined to find a good climbing tree. After spotting a good one and just about having one foot up the tree already, K pointed out that there was a vine growing around it that looked suspiciously like poison ivy. I slowed my approach for a second but I wasn’t going to be stopped. This was a really good climbing tree. The tree was magnificent and totally worth the climb. I came down and looked at the pictures K had Googled on her phone and saw that the vines did look pretty much exactly like poison ivy. We also realized that we had both already walked through other suspiciously-poison-ivy-looking vines about five minutes prior to my tree climb. 

Oh yeah, and wasn’t there poison ivy cream in the gift shop? No worries, we washed our legs and arms off in classy fashion in a park bathroom. Wikipedia told us that not everyone exposed to poison ivy experiences a reaction, so we decide this is clearly a mind-over-matter, yoga-healing-type situation. So far so good.

The seance was Saturday night. It was the highlight of the trip. K and I were lucky enough to meet some super-interesting people who attended a similar seance with the same medium, Mary Hayes, earlier in the day. It was funny how we met them - we basically took over the front porch of their hotel room, not realizing it was a private front porch. They were super sweet and welcoming. They explained that you tell Mary your name, and the name of loved one that has passed that you wish to connect with. They advised that you should have a question ready to ask your loved one. They were caught a little off-guard by this part, because they weren’t sure what to ask, so we appreciated the heads up.

When the time for the seance arrived that evening, 26 of us squeezed into a cozy room on the second floor of the old hotel. When Mary walked in the room, the energy shifted. To me, she glowed. Her eyes were wide and beautiful; her glance was filled with a deep knowing, and I felt like I connected with her on an extrasensory level when I looked into her eyes. Mary is not like the mediums you might see on television. She generally doesn’t come up with crazy facts that only great Aunt Mary would know in order to prove to you that she is really talking to great Aunt Mary. Nor does she become possessed with the spirit of your loved one like Whoopi Goldberg in “Ghost.” It was far less spooky, and felt much more spiritual.

Everyone of the 26 of us (we were told we were an especially large group) got about five minutes to ask her questions. She explained that she speaks to lost loved ones indirectly, essentially by channeling angels that talk to the loved ones directly, and she relays the message to the audience. She closes her eyes while she channels and her affect changes, which definitely heightens the feeling that something other-worldly is going on.

The experience was extremely uplifting, and there was the distinct sensation that she was “in the divine flow” while channelling. It was the same feeling I have had while in the presence of living saints and masters, like Amma and Paramahansa Prajnananda; everything they say seems personally applicable to everyone listening, even when they aren’t talking to you directly. I could see how the advice from loved ones she was giving to others were applicable to my own life.

When it was time for her to talk to Ma, it was heart-tugging when Daniel came through. The message caught me off-guard a bit, when Daniel stopped Ma’s question just to voice and acknowledge how truly tenderhearted she is. I looked at her and saw that she IS tenderhearted. It was as though he said it specifically for my benefit, and it filled my heart with gratitude. I can finally see the tenderhearted goodness of my mother. It took me awhile to get here. I see that I am the one that has changed, finally able to perceive reality without the filters of the past that have colored my vision for so long.

I also see that I am attracting tenderhearted souls into my life; and I am now able to see how many sweet, sensitive, and amazing people I have around me. The Cassadaga Adventure highlighted for me the wonderful people I have in my life. For the longest time, I wasn’t able to see that; I saw heartbreak and anger and meanness in my relationships. I am thankful for those rough times, as it was the heartbreak and suffering that brought me to a place where I can now see the sweetness. And I don’t doubt that it is me that has changed; I am able to see more of the beauty in the world around me. I came across this quote this morning, and it touched me and made me think of the lesson that Cassadaga illuminated; that our rough patches make room for the sweetness, and that there is always hope:

This trip was certainly enlightening. We didn’t see any of the friendly spirits in the hotel, but it does feel like each of us was touched by spirit during our stay.





Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

Adventures in Italia: Episode III

We arrived in Rome Saturday evening and we had two-and-a-half days to explore the City before heading back to America on Tuesday morning. Rome is wonderful. It reminds me of New York City; it is fast-paced with metro subways and it bustles with life and the arts. There are street musicians and piazzos (plazas) where people sit and drink and eat and enjoy life.

Yet, mixed in with the modern is the ancient. Really ancient. Thousands of years old ancient. In Rome, you might see a high rise next to monument built in 60 AD. In fact, you will probably see many.

Often when I travel outside of America, I catch myself acting very American. In America, we eat big and we act big and sometimes we piss people off. Whenever I do something “American,” like eat an enormous amount of food or do something accidentally discourteous while traveling, I’m reminded of the song from “Team America, World Police”: “America, Fuck Yeah.”

In Rome, I found this happening quite a bit. Whenever it did, the song would play in my mind (or I would sing it lightly to my American entourage) and I would snicker.

On Sunday morning, our first morning in Rome, Ma, E and I set out with the intention of seeing the Vatican Museum and St. Peters’ Basillica, both in Vatican City. It is bittersweet for Ma and me. Worse for her than me - being here without my dad and brother - and especially being here without my dad. She and my dad had always planned to come here together, but weren’t able to make it happen during his lifetime. My dad was a very strong Catholic; he even traveled down to Miami to see Pope John Paul II when the Pope came to the U.S. in the eighties. He would have loved this place, and it was hard for both of us to be here without him.

I woke up Sunday morning with a sense of adventure. I had the thought almost immediately upon waking: “Today is going to be a great adventure.” It was directly followed by the thought, “but I’m with my ma today, is she going to be up for an adventure?” I countered that thought with another: “Why not? Who am I to decide she isn’t?”

Ma probably wouldn’t disagree that she is a little less adventurous than me, but she would also say that she is certainly up for an adventure. We had heard from several people that we should arrive early to the Vatican in order to beat the crowds, but things don’t always work out as planned.

Our day started with us deciding to try to find the closer metro subway station, the one we had been warned was more difficult to find than the one by the Colosseum. We had easily found the one by the Colosseum the night before. But warning me that something may be difficult is like daring me to do it. So we set out, and we had some difficulty finding the closer metro station. I wouldn’t say we were “lost” because I had a pretty good idea of where we were the whole time. At the same time, I was not completely sure where the metro station was.

I battled with the voice in my head about taking this path – we should have gone toward the easier metro station by the Colosseum – then we could arrive early at the Vatican as recommended and beat the crowds. Now we would be late and probably miss everything. A different voice in my head reminded me that everything happens for a reason and is all part of the divine plan. Maybe we were meant to go this way for some other reason that just wasn’t obvious at the moment. Look, there is a nice park we wouldn’t have seen if we hadn’t gotten lost.

At that moment, Ma said, “We should have gone the other way.” I tried the tactic that had worked with brain voice: “If we had gone the other way, we wouldn’t have seen this nice park that we can take E too tomorrow when we have more time.”

“Yeah but what are the chances you will be able to find it again?” Ma said. We were both agitated. I did notice and found it amusing for the first time that Ma often says out loud the things my brain voice says to me in private. That might be why she gets to me like no one else can. I don’t think I’m alone in this phenomenon. The voice of our parents often becomes the voice in our heads that we psychologically battle with, and we often have strained relationships with our parents in real life as a result. Maybe she was right, maybe we wouldn’t find it again. At the same time, I couldn’t let go of the belief that this was all part of the greater plan and that today was going to be an adventure.

Sometimes the reason things happen the way they do isn’t obvious to us right away, or maybe not even for many years. I used to live my life with the belief that bad things happen and that it just means that life is shitty. But that isn’t my way of being anymore. I’ve looked the worst-case scenario in the eye. I’ve suffered greatly; and yet, I’m always able to look back and see how things were exactly how they needed to be. I’m always able to look back and see how, in the very least, those awful things that have happened have gone into the formula of making me who I am. This isn’t false optimism; it is a sense of divine peace that comes with living through and surrendering to extreme suffering and realizing that we are here on Earth to learn. If nothing else, we are here on Earth to learn.

We finally found the metro and got on. By now it was well past 11:00 AM and we were clearly late for our “planned” arrival time. I saw my reflection in the window of the metro. Have you ever seen your reflection and not recognized yourself? When I looked up, I didn’t see me, I saw my dad. I saw his features in my face. My reflection smiled back at me - but it wasn’t my smile; it was my dad’s. Upon seeing this, my face lit up with happiness, and I saw that my reflection was me again smiling happily at just seeing my dad. Instantly, I felt that my dad was here with us, and that getting on the metro at this moment was exactly what was supposed to happen. It was his way of reassuring me.

We took the metro to the Vatican exit and got off. We had a choice: head toward the museums or to St. Peter’s. Now it was noon and we were clearly late for either choice. So much for getting there early and beating the crowds. We walked with the flow and half-heartedly decided to go to St. Peter’s in the middle of Vatican Square, both Ma and I doubting it was the right choice. We got to the square and we saw the huge lines to get into St. Peter’s church. Ugh. Maybe we should have gone to the museums.

The square itself is beautiful and it was quite a sight just to be there. We noticed that people were piling in toward the middle of the square while leaving lots of room on the outside. Weird. I thought I heard someone say something about a camera and assumed a crew was filming something and that was why people were pushing toward the center: to get on camera. Maybe they were filming a movie about the Pope?

Then, all of a sudden, the crowd started cheering. We looked up and, I shit you not, there stood the mother-f-ing Pope, up high in a window waving down to the crowd. We had arrived at EXACTLY the right moment. We were getting to see the f-ing pope. THE POPE. The main guy for the Catholic church. And not just any Pope, but Papa Francesco, already beloved by the people for being a man of the people. Holy crap. My dad would be freaking out.

And I realized that my dad may have had a hand in orchestrating the whole thing. If we hadn’t taken the long way, we would have gotten here early and missed the Pope. I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face or the thoughts of my dad. He must have been in on it the whole time. Must have. Ma was crying too. She also realized the perfect-ness of arriving at that moment, and we both were overjoyed. Even E was excited at seeing the Pope and brought it up many times during the rest of our stay in Rome.

The Pope gave a 20 minute-or-so homily in Italian, and it was projected onto huge monitors in the square. That must have been what the cameras were for. I was able to make out a few words about living life rightly and helping others. At several points people clapped and cheered in response to things he said. At one point, I could make out something he said about blessing America. When he said, “America” the crowd clapped and cheered. I thought, “America, Fuck-Yeah!”

It reminded me a lot of my experience with meeting Amma. I could feel that Papa Francesco, like Amma, vibrates on a higher spiritual level, and that just being there in his presence was a gift. We were receiving darshan from a living saint. How amazing is that?

We left the square, still riding on high, and tried to make it to the museums. Turns out they were closing early. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow. We went for some sliced pizza instead and I got the best pizza I’ve had in Italy all trip: pesto with mushrooms and truffle oil. Food porn for sure:

We did end going to the museum the next day and we got to see the inside of St. Peter’s Basillica. We also got to see The Colosseum, The Pantheon, The Spanish Steps, and Trevi Fountain, among other ancient sites and ruins. They were all pretty cool, but nothing beat seeing Papa Francesco. I found that visiting the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican Museum reminded me of going to Ikea: you have to zig-zag through the entire place just to get there, and you are never sure when you will get to the glorious end. Of course, the end in this case is the Sistine Chapel, not the holy cash registers.

The Sistine Chapel was spectacular, and St. Peter’s is more grand than any church I’ve ever seen. It may be the most grand church on Earth. We enjoyed more amazing food, and some divine gelato, before heading back to American early Tuesday morning.

And then...

My husband and my luggage was lost!

Hurray, we don’t have to carry it!

It is crazy the amount of luggage karma we’ve had going on this trip. We decided that we had both metaphorically lost a lot of “baggage” during our Italy Adventure. Old emotional baggage. Oh Universe, you silly Girl.

Altogether, this has been a life-altering trip, culminating in our splendid stay in Rome. I expect when I travel to India for my yearly yoga sojourn for it to be life-changing and soul-searching, but Italy sort of snuck up on me. I’ve learned much about myself on this trip, and challenged some of my most deep-seated thoughts and beliefs. Those thoughts and beliefs were boxing-in and filtering my reality so that I was not able to perceive all of the glory happening around me. I’ve let a lot of that go, and things certainly seem rosier and relationships a little easier. Oh, how I want to get back to Rome!

They say that when you throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain, you are destined to return to Rome. I’ve ensured my swift return by doing just that.

Arrivederci, Italia! Until we meet again…

Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com