While there is no set of rules that if one follows, will ensure a mystical experience and we cannot make it happen–these things happen when they’re meant to, when the soul, for whatever reason, is ready to hear and receive the message–there are things one can do to help expedite the process. I will discuss this in another post

For now, I’d like to introduce you to some of the people who like me, have personally experienced this amazing and wonderful clarity of mind. It is my hope that as you read these accounts, many more of you will step forward and share your stories as well. There are a lot of us out there, but many hesitate to talk about their experiences for personal reasons. But we cannot help others by remaining silent.

Meet Dean Miller. He was minding his own business, just enjoying being in nature and doing a little fly-fishing when his life changed forever. I would like to personally thank Dean for allowing me to share his story with you. Writes Miller:

I stood, not in a crowded rock-and-roll bar in a foreign country, but in a river—a solitary figure. Surrounded by high canyon walls, the warm October sun reflected golden hues that glinted off of the river’s surface. I was indeed searching, but it wasn’t to touch the divine, but simply rainbow and brown trout. I found the trout—and something quite unexpected.

The river flowed gently against my legs, its cold penetrating my waders. Fishing trinkets clinked against each other as I made each cast, accompaniment to the gurgle and babble of the slow moving water. A light breeze, nearly imperceptible, brushed my arms. My heart settled into a comfortable rhythm. The rest of my life drifted downstream, carried by the current to another time.

I made a cast and watched the imitation grasshopper float toward me. No luck. A second cast placed the foam bug further upstream, and I watched again. But this time I could see myself standing in the river. Strangely, I was unsurprised at my new perspective.

I ascended a bit higher and then paused, not of my own accord or thought, but from reaching a state of equilibrium with everything around me. I experienced no physical sensations, only complete love…from everything seen and unseen. The rocks, the water, the air, all transmitted the same intense joy that I felt from a source beyond the physical realm.

Suspended in that timeless domain I knew the answer to every question, should it be asked. Touching to farthest reach of the universe was just a thought away. But there was no need for action on my part, as “it—this love and knowing” was already melded with my soul. I was involved with everything and desired nothing. In that brief span of cross-dimensional existence, I understood what lay beyond my physical being. And I saw how easily the filigreed curtain between body and spirit can be lifted.

Suddenly, a trout swallowed the hopper pattern and without reason or explanation, I was back in my body. I resumed my earthly presence, still radiating with the feeling of what had just transpired. Landing, and then releasing the fish, I exited the river and sat for a moment. Overhead, a lone hawk circled once, then soared above the canyon walls and disappeared from view. I was again, alone, forever changed, with nothing else to do but continue my life.

I choose not to speculate where I would have ended up, or what would have happened, had that trout not taken the fly. My time in the mystic realm, however fleeting, helped direct the next phase of my journey here on earth. Knowing what is “out there” is enough for now.

 –Dean K. Miller

Dean K. Miller is a freelance writer and member of Northern Colorado Writers. His work has appeared online and in Trout Magazine. Employed by the FAA as an Air Traffic Controller for over 23 years, he was the 2010 Northwest Mountain Region recipient of the NATCA Archie League Safety Award. He resides in Loveland, CO and enjoys fly fishing, family, and friends. Please visit his website at: http://deankmiller.blogspot.com.

During Sammy Hagar’s annual birthday bash at Cabo Wabo in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, on October 13, 2011, Sammy announced to the crowd that he would be selling my book at Cabo Wabo. Quipped Sammy,

“Pat has written a book about this whole experience from the beginning. It’s gonna come out very soon and we’re gonna carry it here. She did a great job with that f–in’ book. It’s … a must-read for redheads, okay?”

Although Sammy had already contacted me and informed me of this days before, I was honored beyond words to hear him mention it during his concert because the show was streaming live all over the world.

How many big rock stars would do such a thing? For me, it was the honor of a lifetime and I will never forget it. Thanks, Sammy! You ROCK!

11-7-11 NEWS UPDATE: Here’s a video of the event. If you don’t want to watch the whole thing, skip to 7:45 in the video; that’s where he starts talking about me and my book, calling me “Baja Pat.”

This time of year is difficult for a lot of people, including me. Several years ago, my dear father passed away right before Christmas, and 51 days later, so did my mom. So after the hustle of the holidays is over and I’ve taken down all the decorations and packed them in boxes for next year, pawned off left-over cookies on my visiting sons and anyone else who will take them off my hands before I eat them all (I was raised to believe that wasting food when people were starving in the world was simply unacceptable), like many others, the starkness of winter often hits me like a slab of icy concrete.

The other day I had a particularly tough day. I was scheduled for a radio interview, was all hyped-up and ready, but for some reason, at the last minute, it didn’t work out; we had to reschedule.

Things went downhill from there. It wasn’t any one thing that seemed to contribute to my bad day, it was a combination of a lot of small things.

I felt as if my brain was in a fog and my body slowly sinking in a very deep sea. I tried really hard to make myself accomplish something because sitting around doing nothing is not something I take kindly to. Besides, I already had my day planned out—I would organize the papers in my office—make folders for all my book files, get the laundry done, catch up on the bills and bank accounts, ship a copy of my book to my aunt and finish the grocery shopping. These are not difficult tasks, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t put my body or my brain into motion. Plus, I’d been reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s book “Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage”, her follow-up to her #1 best-seller “Eat, Pray, Love” and “Committed” made me ponder all sorts of things, like my identity for instance. But that’s another post.

I was also pondering things like, What else should I do to help promote my book? and I wonder if we can afford for me to go to the dentist this month and Why the hell has my arm been hurting so bad for two weeks now? All rather trivial things, to be sure. None of them are major stressors like losing one’s job and not being able to pay the rent, or finding out one’s teenage daughter is pregnant.

Nevertheless, my mood darkened by the second, until I found myself no longer treading water; now I was going under. That was when, by some miraculous visage of strength from the back of my brain, I told myself I had a choice: I didn’t have to let those negative feelings overtake me. And I knew this, but I kept sliding into that dark abyss anyhow, and the further I slid, the less I felt able to grasp that knowledge—that I truly did have a choice. I also realized that there were thousands of people in the world suffering from full-blown depressions and all sorts of similar conditions and I was beginning to see how that could easily take root in one’s psyche when one felt like that. Perhaps, just like what was happening to me, it started with the little things and before long, those little things overpowered you like a swarm of piranhas. And as I was thinking all these thoughts, through some remaining shred of logic, I wondered—what can I do to pull myself out of this?

A very big part of me said to tough it out, to push forward because after all, you’re damn lucky to be where you are right now; you have so much more than a lot of people—a house to live in, food in your belly, clothes to wear… How dare you feel so sorry for yourself! Of course those thoughts didn’t offer any solace; they just made me feel worse, because then I felt guilty for feeling down when I had so much to be thankful for.

Right about that time then, guilt, which needs only the tiniest fissure in which to creep in and wrap itself around me like a familiar coat (or a boa constrictor—whichever image you prefer) took a firm hold of me and made things even worse: I should be accomplishing something today. I shouldn’t feel this way. What’s the matter with me? Why am I such an ingrate?

It was at that moment that some semblance of self-empowerment took over. I can’t rightly say where it came from, but somehow I managed to step back from my insistent ego-mind to remind myself all over again, that I had a choice. I could let the darkness sabotage me, drag me down further, maybe even into a full-fledged depression, or I could listen to what my body and spirit were trying to tell me, even though I kept dismissing them for all those reasons of guilt. So I leaned back in my chair and asked my body and spirit what they needed.

And this is what they said, “We’re exhausted.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! I slept just fine lastnight; how could I be so wiped out?” It was my ego-brain attempting to rationalize things again.

I decided to listen to my body and spirit. I took a nap. And when I got up, I popped a bag of popcorn in the microwave and got myself a real Pepsi, not the diet version I usually have, but a real one—loaded with sugar—and proceeded to polish them both off, even though my ego-mind was jumping up and down in the back of my brain like a bratty kid and telling me that it was almost time to fix dinner; if I ate all that stuff, I wouldn’t be hungry for dinner. Besides, sugar wasn’t good for me.

After that, I went upstairs and sat in front of my computer, and as I glanced out the window, I realized that the sun was going down behind the mountains, but I also realized something else: those last few rays were shining on my face and they felt warm. They felt like love.

My darkness melted.

We all have days like this once in a while, but this experience showed me how even small negative thoughts can easily turn into HUGE negative thoughts. Negative attracts negative just as positive attracts positive. But sometimes it seems easier to wallow in the negative, to let those thoughts pull us down rather than to search for the energy to claw our way out of the pit and into the light again. So what can we do?

I’m sure medical experts would say that I shouldn’t have had the sugar, but according to a recent article about the wintertime blues, for the most part, I did a few things right, which is perhaps the reason my bad mood didn’t swallow me whole. For one, I saw that I had a choice, and for another, I exposed my face to sunshine. I also sat back and tried to determine the cause of my bad feelings: I listened to what my body and spirit had to say, even when my ego mind told me there was no reason I should have felt that way. And when I listened, my body and spirit knew exactly what they needed.

Shamanism taught me to use this technique in other aspects of my life as well. If I’m pondering what to do in a given situation, I ask my body and spirit and notice how they react. Sometimes the reactions are so slight that I can’t detect them and sometimes they’re blatantly obvious. But the more I listen to my Higher Self, the more in tune I become with my own sense of what it is I really need, and that is one of the keys to true happiness.

I always have a choice.

If you’re unable to access the following link, you can also go here:Van Halen Nation Radio Show with Guest Author Pat Walker

Please click here to listen:

Click here to listen:  Blogtalk Radio

Just a quick note to let you know that we are in the process of shutting down the old www.bajarockpat.COM site. Not this one, just the .COM site called “Voice of the Spirit.” The plan is to combine both sites into one, so that when Internet surfers type in “www.bajarockpat.com,” it will automatically transfer them to this new site. If all goes to plan, this should be completed within the next week or two.

If you are currently subscribed only to the .COM site (“Voice of the Spirit”), please sign up for email updates on this .NET site. (Top left corner of the home page at www.bajarockpat.net.) We don’t want you to miss out on a THING. There has been soooo much happening the past few months and we expect things to get even more exciting as the weeks roll by, so please stay with us, and in the meantime, thank you for pardoning our dust.

My wonderful website designer is also hard at work restructuring things on this site to make navigation easier, so please look for some exciting changes here as well.

In other news, we’re getting some really great comments in the “Q & A” and “What Readers Are Saying About Dance of the Electric Hummingbird” pages here on the website. These will not arrive in an email to your inbox, since comments added to an existing post are not technically considered new posts, so please check back often to see what others are saying. Feel free to post your questions and comments to the posts of others as well. And if you feel compelled to spread the word about “Dance of the Electric Hummingbird”, we’d sure appreciate it. What can you do? Post a comment on Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble.com or simply tell your friends, co-workers and neighbors about the book. A big thank-you to those of you who have already done so.

Things are going to be even better this year. We’re just getting started, baby!

I’ve also got some great ideas for my next book, so please stay tuned!

Once again, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your support.

Wishing you peace, love and joy for the new year,

Baja Rock Pat

**Photo: “Meeting Sammy” by M. Board

Just in time for the holidays!

The Kindle edition of “Dance of the Electric Hummingbird” is now available for purchase on Amazon.com.

For more information, please click the photo above.

Please click here to read all about it: Aquarius-Atlanta

Please click here to read the latest: BestofYouToday

Six years ago today, I was stepping into my car, getting ready to go to work, when the phone in the garage rang. It was my brother, telling me that paramedics were working on Dad and it didn’t look good.

But it was too late; they couldn’t save him.

My precious father left this world just days before Christmas in 2005. We were a close family. Mom joined him 51 days later.

To me, Christmastime is family time. A time to relish the blessings I have in the form of my loved ones. And every year, I go overboard in spoiling them. I figure, what good are material things if not for sharing with others? According to my husband, I spend too much money on my family and friends at Christmas. I bake too many cookies and make too much candy; I have too many decorations and too many corny Christmas CDs. It’s true. I do. I can’t help it. It’s not because I think giving material things or causing people’s waistlines to expand are the most important aspects of the holidays, it’s because I use these things to honor those I love. Because to me, it wouldn’t be Christmas without the cooking, baking, gifts, and decorations, but mostly, it wouldn’t be Christmas without my friends and family.

And because of this, coupled with the fact that we lost Dad right before Christmas, I miss my parents more than ever during the holidays.

So last night, before I sat down to meditate, I was thinking about how much I missed my dad and I wrote in my journal about how badly I wished I could see him again—hug him, smell him, look into his eyes. And as I meditated, drifting to that place of serenity in my mind, I “saw” a black tunnel about twelve inches in diameter. The opening was small and it grew wider on the opposite end, like a funnel with the small end facing me. The inside of it was swirling and there were wisps of white stuff floating in it like threads of cotton candy. And suddenly within the tunnel, like the image from an unseen projector, was my dad. He was much smaller than in human form and he was walking toward me, calling me by the pet name he used to call me when I was a little girl.

Was all this just my imagination? I wondered.

Still maintaining the controlled breathing I use during meditation—slow, rhythmic, even, measured—I opened my eyes. And then I saw it—the outline of something moving and transparent like liquid egg whites. I could see primarily just the edges of it near the dresser in my bedroom. It was the shape of a human, but I didn’t recognize it as anyone in particular. And it was about eight inches shorter than an average adult.

A tingling sensation went down the back of my head and down my spine. Tears flowed from my eyes. I knew then, that the sensations I was getting, were my body’s way of telling me that this apparition was the spirit of my dear father.

I said out loud, “Is that you, Daddy?” as tears ran down my face and my nose began to run.

There were no verbal or intuitive messages from the spirit, so once again, my mind told me, “You’re just imagining all this because you want so desperately for it to be so,” but at the same time, a part of me knew. My body knew; the chills I felt were not imagined.

I told my father that I loved him. I told him how much I missed him. And the spirit lingered for a long time, as if it was working very hard to make itself more recognizable to me, but it never quite accomplished that.

Before I knew it, I laid down on the bed and fell asleep. I never sleep soundly, but last night I did. I slept like a rock.

Perhaps this sort of thing happens to other people on a regular basis, but it has never happened to me before, which was why my mind kept telling me it was just my imagination. But I’ve heard it said that imagination is the bridge to the world of spirit. I also believe that at Christmastime, there is a kind of magic in the air even more so than at other times of the year. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve believed this. And what we believe is more powerful than any amount of scientific justification, is it not?

I believe this was the greatest Christmas gift I could ever have received—the gift of love from beyond what I see with my eyes—the gift of love, which never dies.

Wishing you and yours the blessings of love and joy in the coming year.

–Baja Rock Pat