Embracing Products: Huge Lips Skinny Hips

Every once in a while I like to look into the market of products out there for health and beauty and give an assessment of a product I feel benefits the body, mind and spirit as a whole. Most of you know that my company’s motto is “Embracing the Universe from the heart...to the whole.” Today, I want you to embrace Huge Lips Skinny Hips by PurpleLab.

I’ve had the pleasure to know product creatrix, Karen Robinovitz, and her partner-in-crime, husband Todd Cuso, since about 2004. In fact, it was at a dinner for a book party that I “saw” her wearing an engagement ring before she was engaged! I was happy to discover that not only did they get married (that validation is a pleasure) but also that they gave birth to a company and delivered their first offspring!

Huge Lips Skinny Hips lip-plumping gloss brings new innovation to the marketplace by offering a healthy solution to plumping up thin lips without the sting of medication or surgery. But that’s only half of the story. The metaphysician in me was attracted the impressive ingredients. It contains Hoodia, an appetite suppressant; Meadow Foam, which is known to bind moisture to the skin; and Lemon Peel Oil, to offer a cool and soothing feeling. The thoughtful inclusion of Vitamin B3 is a healthy means of stimulating blood flow to the lips. Purple Lab’s unique chemistry blend creates an efficient and fun product that aims to make you feel good. Any product that makes you feel good is a metaphysical marvel because it means it has the potential to make one embrace good vibrations.

Some of the shades available run from a nude to a reddish, and all are subtly pleasing to the senses: Kitty Poledancer, Love Your Thighs, Lychee Martini, No Panty Lines, Red Sole and Worship Kate. Retails at $20.00.

As a personal side note, I purchased Kitty Poledancer, and I have to say that I enjoyed wearing it and noticed a difference in my lips. It tingled only a little, as it smoothed out thin lines and my lips remained moist longer. The taste was on the order of berries, and I definitely found my hunger pangs go away for a brief time, if I licked my lips just prior to lunchtime!

You can learn more about Huge Lips Skinny Hips by visiting Purple Lab’s sexy, sultry home on the web at http://www.purplelabnyc.com

A Ghost Story or Time Travel? You Decide...

We drove to my friend Todd’s house in Mountainside late one night, the car taking the curves slowly as we made our way through the reservation. The night was warm with lots of stars in the evening sky. It was just getting dark and I was glad that my friend, Sue, was driving. Our dogs panted happily in the back seat and I fiddled with the radio, just as we turned to head up Todd’s street.

“What’s going on up ahead?” I asked as I trained my eyes on the group milling around the entrance to Todd’s driveway. “What’s with all the people? What do you think happened?”

There was a spotlight on up ahead. No painted dividing line in the road, and the area seemed more woods-like than I remembered it. A man in long sleeve blue pajamas, with stripes, was talking and gesturing with his hands to the woman beside him. She was short and dressed in white. A nurse, I thought. The group looked like they were waiting for something. Had something happened? I felt as if something had. The man turned to face the street and I could see he had short brown hair that was parted on the side.

I didn't recognize anyone. I turned toward Sue.

“Pull up.” I turned back to the window and pointed, but the people were suddenly gone. In a flash…poof! “What?”

“Linda, there is nobody there. What were you seeing?” Sue pulled the car into Todd’s driveway and we got out to join him inside the house.

I recounted what I had seen and said that I felt it had to do with an incident that happened in the area many years before. My reading on it was that there was no paved road and it was not as developed, but more rural. The man I saw was in pajamas and barefoot, and the scene of a fire sprang to mind. He was waiting for help while his house went up in flames. There was no line in the road because this was before 1940, and I feel they were milling around to wait for the fire department to arrive. The man was gesturing as he retold what happened to him to his nurse, as I am sure he was a patient of some kind. Or at the very least, under a doctor’s care.

Was this vision a past experience, which means they were ghosts? Or was this a vision of parallel time and the people I was seeing re-enacting a scene that happened in their lives in the spot where the memory of it is strongest?

I’ve yet to decide. Have you?
Send me your comments.

Another Glimpse....

I try to visit my father, who is in a nursing home, at least once a week. Now that the weather has been nicer, I'm able to take him outside in the courtyard so that he can see our two little dogs and play with them. As I often did, I walked down the hallway, took a couple of turns to the left and headed toward his room to fetch him in his wheelchair. But, on this recent visit, he wasn't in or near his room. I checked the lunch room and the hallways. No Pop. I inquired at the nurses station where he might be. They told me he was most likely watching a movie on the second floor (Amazing that my father is "lost" and no one in charge knows where he is!)

I punched the elevator button and waited for it to come down. One of the residents of the home stood beside me. She was wearing a long-sleeved Minnie Mouse sweatshirt and a pair of black stretchy pants. Her hair was short, curly, thick and silvery, her lips painted a deep red.

"Nice bag," She surveyed me up and down and smiled.

"Thank you."

Her hand reached out to touch the beads. "Where'd you get it? Must have been expensive. I would sure like to have that bag."

"I got it at The Mall," I answered while inching away from her.

"What mall?"

"Short Hills."

"I want the bag," she insisted.

"You can't have the bag."

"Give me the bag!" She reached out.

The doors swung open and she quickly moved away, pressing her back against the wall as a young orderly joined us in the elevator. I smiled at the orderly and said hello, but the old woman did not say anything else. As soon as the doors opened again, I flew out of the building to the parking lot and the safety of my car. It's not uncommon to find mentally unstable people in nursing homes. This sweet little old lady might not be able to control her reactions to things, and could do some damage. I kept this in the back of my mind and promised to do my best to avoid her in the future.

I noticed on my next visit that there were no signs of "the Bag Lady" as I referred to her. However, I did run into the orderly again and stopped her in the hallway.

"I haven't seen the woman who was in the elevator with us. I hope she is OK."

She looked confused. "I don't understand."

"The old woman," I explained, "the one who was in the elevator with me when you got on.

"There was no one but you and me in the elevator."

"There was a woman and she wanted my bag."

"Describe her." She folded her arms across her chest and closed her eyes as if to envision the details to make a proper ID.

"Short, silvery hair, very thick. She was wearing a Disney sweatshirt and black sweat pants..."

"That's Minnie."
"Yes, the mouse on her shirt was Minnie--"

"No, I mean her name was Minnie."

"Was?"

"Yes. She passed away last month."

SORRY, CHARLIE!

Last night I did a telephone reading for an out-of-state client. The reading was moving right along when I suddenly felt an“energy” (spirit) enter the room. I knew it was a male and he immediately made me smile. I asked the client, “Who is Charlie? I think he’s here.” She explained that Charlie was the name of her brother who passed away. That validation opened up the door, so to speak, to communicate with him. I “felt” him laughing and smiling and being quite the jovial one! However, he soon turned into a very “merry” prankster!

I often tell my clients that one of the major signs that indicate the other side is with us, are electrical: lights flashing, phones ringing with no one on the other end, chimes sounding from nowhere, etc. You get the idea!

The moment my client acknowledged who Charlie was, the phone went dead. I went to my recent calls listing and redialed her number. Instead of getting my client, I got a recording telling me how to get my incoming messages! Though it was frustrating, it made sense because the other side was trying to send a message and wanted me to know that was the case. I tried to get my client back on the phone three times, three different ways, and each time, I got the same recording. So, I turned to spirit and said, “Ok, Charlie. Got it. I know you are here. Now let me get your sister back on the phone so I can finish up her reading.”

The next time I dialed, she picked up the phone. I explained to her that I felt it was Charlie playing with us. She confirmed his prankster ways. In fact, as I write this in my home office, every time I type his name, the lights flicker!

We finished up the reading and after hanging up; I leaned over to check my email and heard a male voice sending “commands” on everything I did. If I clicked the email icon it would say, “Email open.” No matter what I touched, the male voice came on in command. And to make matters more frustrating, the volume could not be turned up or down, no matter what I did! I would have “told” Charlie that this was unacceptable, however, I know better…because when you ask spirit, in frustration, to stop (or you yell at them) you can be sure that will only escalate your problem with them.

I asked my business partner, Sue, to come up to my office and see where I would turn off the commands, and she kept asking, “Why are they even on?” I rolled my eyes. She understood immediately and went downstairs to spray the house with our cleansing spray and double dose it with sage smudge right after. When she returned, we went through the motions of finding what was activated, so that I could return my computer to normal, rather than paranormal. As we went through the list of voice activation, we noticed that most of my system preferences there that had been unchecked were now checked! It took about an hour, and I turned off the computer for the night.

The next morning, I started my day with email and all seemed right with the world...until I tried to turn down the music volume. It not only would not go down, but strange looking frames surrounded all my folders and my screen kept freezing. Frustrated, I begged him to please stop, and then called Sue again. We discovered yet another change on the computer. So, I asked Charlie to return control to me. I told him his family loved him and to move along in peace. I heard one word in my ear, spoken clearly and firmly, in a male’s voice: “Write!”

So, here it is. Sorry, Charlie, that it took me so long to get that message, and thank you for coming through to deliver it. For that, I am very grateful.

I See Dead People…

“I see dead people” … is one of the most repeated lines to come out of a paranormal movie. It ranks way up there with “They’re heeeeeeere,” from the movie, Poltergeist.

The first reference is to The Sixth Sense, a worthy story until I “see” what they claim he “sees,” and I realize how little progress we have made in the entertainment industry in understanding more about what they are representing. If they did, they would have far more interesting tales to tell that would be remarkably more entertaining and “scary” simply because they depict some of what really happens when one “sees” the other side. Too often, the writers are writing what they think they know, when, in actuality, they are merely rehashing what has already been done, wrong, over the years.

In the movies, they never look like your mother or your father, your uncle, your sister your brother, your cousin. They never look like the people you love—the people they really are. And that is one of the most troublesome things I find about movies that depict my profession. I know that these movies are made for entertainment value, but they also instill a false persona as to what people are like on the other side. People don’t die and become ghoulish. They also don’t “stay” or “live” where they are buried. They are spirit energy and energy does not die.

The spirits I see are your average grandpa in suspenders, grandma in her jewelry. Sometimes I see just their surroundings and only feel their energy. It’s like someone came into the room, but they are hiding just beyond my vision and will reveal themselves when (and, most important, IF) they have a message to be delivered.

The biggest misconception about what I do, is that I have some strange “psychic power.” That one makes me both cringe and smile at the same time. Like I have this strange weird thing inside me that makes me be able to do things beyond human ability.. What I have, that may be very different than someone else, is an awareness with that goes beyond normal connections and creates an ability to communicate.

How can you do what I do? Well, first you would have to be born into my family! But, most of all, it’s really quite simple: you MEDITATE, faithfully, every single day, at least twice a day. That simple act of going within on a regular basis will create a pattern of awareness that will allow you to be open enough to “hear” those on the other side, be they angels, guides or loved ones.

I created a guided meditation CD called Graceful Meditations… to help with this process. It can be obtained at our Embracing The Universe Metaphysical Center or Amazon.com. (Unfortunately, blogger.com will not allow me to do the link right now).

I wish you love and blessings and happy meditations that connect you with the messages you are meant to receive.

Yes…I do see dead people, and communicate with them. You can, too.

I'm forever reading...Bubbles!

This is a photo of me and Grandma Anna, 1955.
My introduction into reading by way of color and energy happened quite innocently. I was three years old, and we were living across the street from my very psychic grandmother. I remember the day very clearly. My mother had taken me across the street for my grandmother to watch me while my mom went to work in her job as a telephone operator (back when we had live people answering the calls!)

Mom held my hand tightly as we crossed the street. We ran up the steps of Grandma Anna’s small house and through the open screen door, which Mom closed behind us.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said, kneeling to address me. “Be a good girl for Grandma.”

I walked down the foyer to her parlor and sat down on the sofa, the plastic seat cover sticking to my legs as my dress rode up behind me. I sat like this for about five minutes before Grandma came out from behind the curtained off room that was her bedroom. We did not often communicate verbally because she could not speak much English, but I always got her message somehow.

However, today something was different. As she sat next to me talking in her native Italian, tiny purple and blue bubbles came streaming from her mouth. I wanted to ask her to share the bubble blower, but I did not see one.

As she continued to speak, the colors changed again to white, green and yellow. I became very aware of Grandma’s mood just from the shifting colors.

Distracted and mesmerized by these bubbles, I watched them form opaque circles before disappearing into the air. They were coming from Grandma Anna’s mouth in slow and steady clusters. I began to feel emotional. The red made me angry and the green had me wanting to tell Grandma to take better care, while the purple suggested that she was wise beyond my limited three-year-old understanding.

“Eh! Snap over it!” she yelled in her fractured English, her fingers clipping in the air to get my attention.

I moved my eyes up to hers. “Huh?”

She looked confused. “Snap out of it,” she corrected.

I did as I was told, but was still seeing the colorful bubbles.

“Grandma, can I have the bubble maker, too?”

Her eyes widened, and she smiled.

It was at that unfortunate moment, that her next “friend” came to visit. All the people who came to her for advice were never referred to as clients or customers, but as friends.

“Come stai, Mr. Marx,” she greeted in Italian, patting my hand and standing so she could lead the way back behind the curtain. She turned and smiled, her hand on the folds of the curtain, ready to close them. “Is good.”

Something To Consider...

I have wanted to write this particular blog post for a long while, but waited until the Mercury Retrograde was over so that it was not misunderstood.

When I refer to “no dumping” I am referring to the escalating (and alarming) practice among friends, family and (especially) strangers, to unload their problems, issues and/or general disgruntled (negative) feelings/conversation on people who do not ask, nor want to share it. If you think you can’t handle it, imagine what you are doing to the person you dump on. They are not prepared for the negativity you want to impart, and therefore will not be of much comfort to you because they may not be in the position to give advice. All you will succeed in doing is passing on negativity to make yourself feel better. That is not sharing, that is dumping. If you want to unload, it is spiritually important that you ask permission before doing so, and then do so in a private venue as a courtesy to others.

The most notorious dumping is done via cell phones. For instance, I was at the local beauty parlor, nail salon or spa, where (unfortunately) people are not reminded to turn off cell phones so as not to disturb others. We are there to decompress, relax and enjoy being pampered, not to take in the negativity of someone else. Imagine what it feels like to hear someone talking loud, for all to hear, about the latest disease or death the caller is relating to them over the phone. One such woman carried on so much about how their family member died, that we were all treated to a wonderfully negative blow-by-blow description of the horror of it all. No one told her to stop. The depression just filled the place as a result. No one bothered to ask her to take it outside. We were all held hostage in her little personal phone booth.

In this economy, the owner of the salon was only interested in not offending (thus losing) the ONE customer, in favor of losing the 10 others who were reduced to listening to this. Ultimately, one by one, each person simply got up and left the place. They were angry, and one woman was SO angry that on her way out the door, she actually ripped the phone out of the person’s hand and threw it in the trash, sending shock waves through the salon.

If you want others to be sympathetic to your plight, you have to be sensitive to the fact that they didn’t sign up for your “news,” and should be asked if it’s okay to listen to it. That applies to whether you are on the phone or sitting at the nail dryer chatting with a fellow customer.

Establishment owners please take note: We pay to be pampered. We are not paying to be put upon. We all have things in our lives that we would rather not deal with, but the misery loves company adage no longer works in the world we live in today. The rage, disrespect and outright rudeness needs to stop. NO MORE DUMPING! Ask first. Or, better yet, BLOG it, because only then is it ok because the person has to seek your blog out, and that is by their choice, and by their permission.