Paranormal–by definition–is all that can’t be explained scientifically. That leaves a tremendous amount of fertile ground for me to cover, she states with a relief born of writer’s panic. If it weren’t for the paranormal, I’d be an extremely dull girl with a supermodel-starved imagination.
Fortunately, it holds true that all my best thoughts are not of a scientific nature at all, but are more in the realm of magic. My inner Atlas can’t hold the weight of too many numbers on its shoulders, but my inner muse is particularly talented at erecting monuments of wonder with even the smallest of inspiration, as you’ll soon gather.
I must confess, I’m winging it here every week by allowing years of paranormal experience, my intuition and the universe to guide my discourse. Right before I tapped fingers to keyboard today, I checked in on my Facebook page and viewed a Youtube video about a small little town called Speed. No, it’s not home to the Racers: Pops, Speed, and the mysterious Racer X. It’s a beautiful, quaint farm community where everyone knows your name—sorta like Cheers, minus the alcoholics.
In this town in Australia, there is a stretch of highway that runs through it that everyone likes to speed through—causing great danger to the town’s forty-five inhabitants. Yes, I said forty-five. Not enough to fill a rock concert, but their quiet charm echoes loudly—with the added benefit of not causing permanent hearing loss. In such a small town, when even just one resident is injured, the ripple effect on all its citizens is enormous.
One of the town’s elderly sages was asked what message she’d like to deliver to the speeding motorists. Her infinitely wise response was:
“Take your foot off the accelerator and put it on the brake.”
What’s this got to do with the paranormal? you may be asking, about now.
Nothing, at least not on the surface. But it’s all about synchronicity, for me. For the past week on TV, Itunes & now on Facebook, I’ve been hit over the head with the message to “Take your foot of the accelerator and put it on the brake.”
To harshly punctuate this lesson, I was running through my house, anxious to be done with the cleaning I so thoroughly despise, when a halogen lamp came crashing down on my head. Startled, but fine, I suddenly found I had the power to move objects with my mind….Okay, that’s not true. No, this was a lesson to slow down, observe my surroundings and even appreciate all the pretty stuff I own.
Inner transformation can best occur, I’ve been recently told, when one physically slows down and processes the thoughts and feelings that reveal themselves. That’s why depressed people physically move slower. “Depression hurts,” the sappy ad points out, but it also heals what can be a lifetime or even many lifetimes of wounding. Didn’t know I could wax so Deep-ak, did you?
Having my bell rung actually caused me to finally be happy with my astrological sun sign, Taurus—inarguably the most leaden-foot sign of the Zodiac. Though I’m painfully slow to read, rise, and I find I must hear things twice to really absorb their meaning, I now know what my tortoise-shelled friend has always tried to teach me: Slow wins the race. And if this tiny populated, big hearted town in Australia has its way, its new name will carry the same message: SpeedKills.