Intuition

Yoga Groove

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“Why does anyone join yoga? After all, how can I ever get my body to twist like a pretzel or stand on my head and get any benefit? Yoga is only a girl thing. Dudes are not allowed.” I had many similar sentiments prior to starting my spiritual journey. As an intuitive medium I have learned to lead by faith. Shortly after a life-changing conversation at a bar (link to blog) in the summer of 2014, my inner guidance, intuition, a small voice within led me to yoga and eventually my current yoga studio, The Yoga Project in Fort Worth. My Ego subsided as my faith kicked into overdrive. “Just how and why did your intuition lead you to yoga,” you may ask?

yoga-groove

For a couple of months after my life-changing conversation at a bar I felt I was walking on clouds. I felt like I was floating through life; going through the motions but consumed by images and feeling that were not necessarily my images or feelings. Somehow I sensed what I needed was to rid myself of this real life-daydream feeling. My body, my soul needed an anchor. My soul needed to be tied down. I needed grounding. The energy that I was absorbing was draining me. It was making me fatigued and loopy. I don’t consider myself a guru of meditation; however, I have always known the power of prayer and meditation. It was through prayer and meditation I received the answer: yoga. Today I recognize that I had an overactive crown and solar plexus chakra and I desperately needed to strengthen my root chakra to balance my energy.

My first experience with yoga was through an app I downloaded on my smart phone.  I learned the name of poses, breathing techniques, and what a modified pose should look like. I will admit though, I did not have the form that can only be learned from a yogi. Again, my inner guidance indicated that I needed a yoga studio. My inner guidance manifested itself in Groupons, promotional introductory emails, and Facebook ads within days of each other. I tried a handful of yoga studios in the Fort Worth area. I learned a great deal, but none of them felt like home. After a year search of avoiding year-long contracts, autodrafts, and schedules that conflicted with mine, I set my intentions to find a studio that was right for me.

I vividly recall the moment I saw The Yoga Project in Fort Worth Facebook ad. The fact that I could practice yoga while overlooking the Trinity River almost sold me. Fortunately for me, the Fort Worth studio is conveniently located down the road from work. The fact that I could practice during lunch and purchase ten classes at a time and have a year to use them, thus avoiding contracts, won me over. Again, my intuition delivered with meeting all my expectations and more. It has been a year and a half and I have gained so much more than what I expected.

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Through yoga I have expanded my own personal intuition. Through yoga I have acquainted myself with my own chakra system. And through yoga, my mediumship abilities have catapulted to levels that leave me in awe. Each time I step in the yoga studio is like walking into a sanctuary. I feel and see everyone’s energy. I sense everyone’s love converging to one singular heartbeat.  I feel the energy of self-determination of everyone present. On occasion, I have sensed people’s loved ones who have passed present in the studio, watching, cheering on their child/grandchild as they commence their personal path to self-discovery. In a bold move on my part, but guided by my inner guidance, I even delivered a message to a yogi. Yes, I have found my studio: this studio is my temple and my yoga mat is my souls’ Eucharist.

What if another realm moved through you?

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This Is Actually Happening is a podcast on misfitrad.io that is dedicated to capturing “first-person stories that explores what happens when everything changes.” Over the summer I had the opportunity to interview with Whit Missildine PhD. It was pleasure to share my experience with him and now you.

http://misfitrad.io/happening/63

Enjoy!

To my son, Gideon

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What is the happiest you have ever been in your life?  You know, that moment everything around you dissipates, your smile stretches ear to ear, and your gut churns Monarch butterflies. I become myopic and all I see are the results displayed in a holy, blue cross. “Amor, I am pregnant,” Andrea exclaims on September 10, 2009. For the first time in my life, time suspended. Nothing makes sense, but yet oddly enough, I seem to align with an estranged higher self. “I am going to be a dad? I am going to be responsible for another human being?” I repeatedly question myself. A few days after the blissful high, my dreams of fatherhood are suddenly yanked from underneath me. On September 15, 2009, Andrea’s OBGYN delivers the darkest news of my life. “You are having a miscarriage,” as a pool of blood forms at the bottom of the examining table. “You need to go home, rest, and let the process occur naturally. If it makes you feel any better, I have been pregnant seven times and have three beautiful children,” says the OBGYN’s assistant as tears pour down a picture-perfect world Andrea and I have constructed.  We walk out of the OBGYN’s office; a blood trail behind us highlights our exit while a crumpled world ahead looms over our future. “Andrea will be a mortuary and our home a grave for Baby A,” I morbidly think as I mindlessly hand over my credit card to pay the $25 copay.  Then we were on our way to a radiologist for a sonogram.  The results were confirmed, “See the sack?  There is supposed to be a fetal pole in there and I do not see one,” says the technician as we stare blankly at the empty circular blob on the screen.

For a few days, thoughts of a miscarriage dominated our world. We waited three long days for the results of a blood test.  Since it was so early in the pregnancy, the only sure way to confirm was with a blood test.  Despite the bleak results we were initially given, we somehow held onto a glimmer of hope. Blood results were in, Andrea was still pregnant. Contrary to the OBGYN’s early prognosis, on May 23, 2010, God blessed us with a vibrant, rambunctious, and defiant baby girl, Giselle.

Sometime in September 2014, on my lunch hour, a meditation abruptly brought forth a dark past I had locked away in the deepest chasm in my mind. After my meditation, I called Andrea sobbing. Baby A, or Gideon as I later named him, stepped forwarded and made his presence known.

I followed my routine of meditating. I prayed to God, asked for his protection and guidance. I set my intentions to receive any messages from God and His Angels. After five minutes of concentrating on my inhales and exhales, I felt a presence. The presence was new to me. At that time, I had limited exposure to Spirits. After a few minutes of concentrating on the presence, I deduced it was a toddler; a boy. I acknowledged his presence and asked him to step forward. As any other toddler would, Baby A shows off his toys. Suddenly, my mind’s eye is a stage for a Show and Tell. “Wow, you love tyrannosaurus rex uh,” I proclaim as he shoves the dinosaur in my face. I remain grounded and focused on the beautiful moment I am sharing with Baby A. The cacophony of a little boy playing with his dinosaurs is a sweet symphony in my ear. I recall thinking, “Wow, this is the same noise Giselle makes when playing with toys.” After the Show and Tell ends, Baby A jumps on my lap. Yes, you read that correctly, I feel a soul jump on my lap. Innately, I am not frightened. Contrary, I was entranced by this celestial encounter. While Baby A was on my lap and running his hands on my face, an immense sense of love overcomes me. It was not a Cupid-flung arrow kind of love. It was that immense love when a father holds his child for the first time. “Wait, I know you,” I whisper as he showers me with Eskimo kisses. My brain finally syncs to my heart. “Yes, Giselle was to be born alone. One of us had to go. It was her time,” Baby A tells me. A tear runs down my face. I feel a soft, tender kiss as he wraps his hands around me. “I do not want this moment to end. Please suspend time,” I beg God. “It’s Giselle’s turn to be here. I am watching after Giselle and Gabriel. I love you and mommy so much. Please give mommy a big kiss for me,” as Baby A continues. “What is my name? I would love to have a name. What is my name, Daddy?” I reply, “Gideon Aguilar; Gideon, after God’s brave solider.” A barrage of stars, confetti, balloons, hearts, and firecrackers flood my mind’s eye. I felt and saw his excitement after I named him. “Thank you, Daddy. I love it. Please tell mommy, Giselle, and Gabriel about me. I love my family so much. Can I get a Christmas stocking too?” My composure is a covered pan of boiling water. I say, “Of course Gideon. I love you so much.” He gives me a gentle hug and interlaces our fingers together. Unfortunately for me, time is up. My supplication for time suspension is not answered. Gideon’s presence vanishes.

Gideon is very much part of our family.

Gideon’s visit taught me so much. Souls are part of every pregnancy; even as early as five weeks as it was in our case. Although I am not sure specifically at what time a soul enters a body, I speculate it is even before conception. Souls continue to be part of your family. Growing up, Giselle talked to imaginary friends. When she turned two, she became scared of “bad guys” in her room. In that special visit, Gideon validated that he just wanted to play and apologized for scaring her. The connection between you and soul is very much natural and real. Four years after Andrea’s miscarriage, I instinctively recognized Gideon when he jumped on my lap. An ethereal cord connects us to passed-love ones. Souls love to be named and included as family. In my experience, when I give readings, Spirit validates a miscarriage, the souls make it a point to be named and remembered. For those of you who know my children, you may witness Giselle and Gabriel talking about Gideon and how he is in heaven watching them. Also, you may hear them describe their dreams and visits with Gideon. As for Andrea and me, we pray and talk with him often. Although I may not feel Gideon as I did the first time, he definitely leaves a trail of dinosaurs behind to show us he is present.

When Angels Speak, Listen

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I give my kids and wife a kiss goodbye for the day as I walk out of the house. The morning sun shines through the rainy clouds on this Wednesday workday. Car keys in hand and a gym bag on my shoulders; I take a deep breath and drown my lungs in the fresh-rain smell. I get in my car and back out of the driveway. Kidd Kraddick’ Beat the Bank is on. “Your back pack, get your backpack,” I hear. By now, I should know better. When Spirit speaks, I normally listen; however, as a husband and father, selective listening often trumps. backpackI shake off the message. Twenty minutes later, I exit Hulen Street when I hear my Angels say, “Your backpack, get your backpack.” This time, I see my Eddie Bauer, red and black backpack in my mind’s eye. “There is no way I forgot my backpack this time,” I reassure myself. A month ago, I forgot my backpack that stores my work laptop. I made what I thought were idiot-proof steps to prevent forgetting my work laptop again. I arrive at work, open the truck, only to realize my backpack is missing. “Damn it!” I cowardly admit my mistake and send a text to my boss, “I am here at the parking lot. I just noticed I left my laptop at home. I will be an hour late,” I type. I apologize not only to my boss, but to Spirit. I was most bothered that I did not listen. When Spirit was speaking, I did not listen. I permitted logic to override my inner guidance. All too often, I encounter similar stories. As a medium, I merely validate the awesomeness of Spirit to friends and clients.

A friend recently shared a new article she stumbled across. Inquisitr.com reports that on April 23, 2015, a wife in Utah was overwhelmed by a “funny feeling”. The reporter chronicles Nicole Mayhew’s story (see story). After a couple of hours of subsiding her intuition, she surrendered to her guidance, took off work, only to find her husband trapped under their SUV. Nicole’s husband had been trapped under their SUV for an hour and half and suffered six broken ribs. She tells reporters, “I just believe a spirit told me.” “I believe that there’s angels around us. My Heavenly Father was with him.”

Similarly, about two months ago, my brother shared a story that left my sister-in-law, my wife, and me completely amazed by God and His guardian angels. My brother and his crew were working overnight. After a long night, they headed back to their hotel. According to my brother, he usually sits in the front passenger seat and seldom wears his helmet while in the truck. This specific night, something told him to crawl in the back seat, behind the driver, and put on his helmet. He recalls, “Something just told me to take the back seat.” Minutes after he closed his eyes, he woke up to the sound of glass shattering. Heavy railroad equipment had penetrated the front window of the truck and utterly dismantled the passenger side. Had my brother been in the front passenger seat as he was accustomed, he is absolutely confident that he would have died. My brother, a chronic skeptic, this time innately surrendered to his intuition. “It was abuela,” I told him, our grandmother. She was with him that night.

When I work with clients and friends, passed-love ones often validate the nudges, or signs they give to help intervene. “Yes, what you felt/what you saw was real,” I enthusiastically confirm. “Yes, the number 444 or 44 is a sign of her communicating with you,” I recently shared with a friend. “The number 444 or 44 means Guardian Angels are with you.” On a separate occasion, I shared with a client that I heard R. Kelly’s “I believe I can fly”. At the time of the reading, my client could not make a connection. A few weeks after, she confirmed she randomly heard it. At the moment she heard the song, the situation around her suddenly made sense. Her passed-loved one validated that precise moment. Last week while sharing drinks with a buddy, I said, “Yes, that feeling you have regarding organizing a hunting trip with your cousins is real. Your grandfather keeps showing me this very specific hunting gun. Your grandfather is giving you that nudge to organize the hunting trip. He completely supports the idea.”

In both Nicole Mayhew’s and my brother’s case, Spirit, inner guidance, inner voice, or Guardian Angels (whatever your preference may be), triumphed. When I am channeling a passed-love one, I simply validate that funny feeling you may have, those subtle divine nudges, or oddly recurring “signs” you are seeing. Trust your intuition. Trust your inner compass. Trust in Spirt. Trust in Him. You may not pay attention the first time, or you may ignore it altogether; however, when spirit speaks, take it from me, and listen.

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How a Bar Converstation Changed My Life

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A guy walks into Applebee’s and finds a spot near me. I was by myself, not because I’m an alcoholic, but because I was on a business trip. The bartender has all ESPN stations, in English and Spanish, playing on each forty-eight inch flat-screen TV. The 2014 World Cup dominated news coverage; however, June 26, 2014, was an especially slow day at the bar in San Antonio, Texas. After one 20oz Shiner Bock down, I ordered a Crown and Coke. A week away from home and a busy work week, I was ready to responsibly relax and walk upstairs to my hotel room. I noticed the gentleman beside me. We each made a polite head gesture to acknowledge one another’s presence and set our territories. By doing so, instinctively we mutually set our boundaries to the bar stool that separated us. In that brief interaction, I noticed his business attire, his exhausted demeanor, and I quietly commiserated on our hectic, work-week away from home. Since I was a child, I just knew things without really knowing why I knew them. Minutes passed, I lost track of time. I texted my wife good night, reviewed my Facebook page, and read work emails. “One last double-shot of Crown and Coke? Sure, why not,” I thought. Suddenly, I felt my chest tighten. “Is it the caffeine? Am I having a stroke,” I questioned. The same guy, one bar stool away, asked me a question. Little did I know at that moment how life-altering our conversation would be; how this bar conversation would change my life.

I asked the gentleman to repeat the question. I was struggling to diagnose the pain in my chest. “Yes, there is a good chance that US will beat Belgium.” He continued to talk about soccer and sports, while I pretended to listen. “Who are you? What is happening,” I asked myself. I felt someone, something near me. I knew it someone trying to connect. At last, my drink arrived. Drink and flight was the response I immediately sought, but for some reason I was compelled to ask him questions. It was time for me to turn my passive listening to active talking.

Instead of asking his name or what he did for a living, I asked him what any normal person would ask, his age. Well, to be more precise, I asked him to confirm his age. I inquired, “Are you 52?” For whatever reason, I was not surprised to hear him confirm his age. Before he could finish processing why I was asking something so personal, I quickly followed up with, “Are you a banker?” Again, he confirmed he was a banker. “Cool,” I said while I paused and took another gulp of my drink. “Are you also known as Miguelito?” At this time, his sun-bathed faced turned pale. He was perplexed beyond description. His face showed deductive reasoning in process. He stammered, “Do we have mutual friends?” I debunked his deduction with a polite, “No.”

I apologized. Although I had enjoyed one too many drinks, I had the foresight to know how bizarre this conversation was going. I sounded crazy. I was merely repeating what I was seeing, feeling, and hearing. I gave Miguel the opportunity to decline, to turn around, and walk away from the schizophrenic, random dude at the bar. I asked three or four times if he was sure he wanted to hear what I was seeing, feeling, and hearing. Secretly, I wanted to stop, but he insisted. He wanted me to continue. I knew I felt a male energy trying to come through. The male energy was painting a picture. I discerned a farm, with a cactus, a little boy with overalls, running, and a green, old truck. He instantly made a connection. He affirmed he had fond memories growing up on his uncle’s farm. Then, the uncle shows me a body outline of an Operations game board (remember the old game?). Everything was blacked out except for the heart. The heart was red, but broken. I asked him, “Did your uncle pass from a heart attack or heart condition”? He quickly finished his beer. I saw sweat beads form just above his eye brow.

Imagine, here I am giving personal details to a random guy at a bar. I had no fears. At no time, did I think Miguel was going to pull out a gun and shoot me or throw me across the bar. I was guided to deliver this message.

Before I continued, I remember saying, “I know, this is totally crazy, I can stop whenever you want me to.” He was adamant. He wanted me to proceed.

Intuitively, I felt bad energy surrounding the farm, and I knew it was connected to a boy. I told him exactly what I felt. At first he did not make a connection. I felt profound regret; a big secret. I repeated what I felt. To my surprise, Miguel divulged that his uncle had two separate families. Just recently, he had met his male cousin. Miguel further added that he did not really intend to start a relationship with his cousin. The uncle made me aware that he wanted his family to accept his other son. I felt how much the uncle wanted a unified family. As I said those words, I saw tears form; I made a grown, random man cry. Never have I ever made a man cry. To undo the tears that I caused, I reassured him everything was going to be OK and summarized the point of his uncle’s message: to embrace his cousin. As soon as I completed that sentence, my chest pain completely dissipated. The energy I felt, the energy that was concentrated on my chest, left. Message delivered.

I got up from the bar; I saw a WF and an 89. I told him what I saw although, it did not make sense. I thought I was finished. I thought the uncle had left. Miguel did not make any immediate connections. What started off as a relaxing night at a bar completely turned my world upside down. The bar conversation altered my course in life. My eyes were unveiled to a world that includes Angels, Spirit Guides, & Mediumship. This blog is intended to share my journey, the books, articles, courses, and resources I researched to understand and grow as an intuitive medium. As for the bar tab, I turned to Miguel and told him my charge for the reading was my bar tab. I shook his hand and walked away thinking, “What the hell? Am I Theresa Caputo?”