The last time I heard from my brother was precisely at 4:44 in the afternoon on Super Bowl Sunday.

One of the Patriots biggest fans, along with my father, he came with words on that day:

Little Sister, something magical is about to happen.

Brent, that’s impossible, I say. We are losing big time- 28-3 in the 4th quarter.

He laughs. Improbable, but not impossible. Anything is possible. Just watch.

And then he is gone. And he is right. Something magical did happen in the biggest comeback in Super Bowl history. My parent’s sure needed it- they needed some sign to hang onto that he was out there, looking in; I’m the only one he has visited, they haven’t had the experiences I’ve had that let me know he is safe and well and free.

And then as tears stream down my face and I bawl like a baby, I realize that maybe I needed it too. For despite those comforting, otherworldly experiences, it was only a year ago on that particular day that I was standing up in front of a solemn crowd, unbelievably giving his eulogy, still not grasping onto the full concept that he had died or how awful would be the next 6 months of soul searing grief.

After that day, a lot of extrasensory things began to happen. I’ve talked about them a little, alluded to it in my writing, but not overly much. In part because I needed some space to simply process all of my grief and then to grow into my gifts and nurture an understanding within myself of what they were about. Learning to work with the unseen world is like learning a whole new language and skill set and geographical terrain.

And in other part, because these experiences can be difficult to share. You don’t really want to just drop, “So, sometimes my dead brother still talks to me telepathically from beyond. Cool huh? What’s new with you?” into normal conversation.

And in last part, I wasn’t sure if anyone would even believe me.

My parent’s believe me though, as different and diverse in our beliefs as we can be, they’ve always believed me. It helps that Brent has given me messages to give them that I wouldn’t have known otherwise. It also helps that they know my heart and character.

My husband believes me. The other night, he encouraged me to start writing more about it, pointing out that these kinds of things often bring a lot of hope and comfort to people, and people are more open to them than it sometimes seems.

A friend believes me. Mostly because when her father crossed over he contacted me and asked me to give her a message and along with sending her a draft of my grief book. He came into my mind with a big booming laugh and loud voice sounding just like his daughter, and I promised I’d pass both on. He left then, that was all he wanted, he just wanted her to feel comforted and found a way of getting the message through.

It takes a little courage to sit here and share these things today. But this last year in life, I have been trying to live more fearlessly. Being bolder, braver, more authentic- I’ve started to have a sense that an hour-glass is running, and I’m out of time to live a life that is anything less than my fullest, biggest version of self. And that I really don’t have time to be scared of what other people may think or say or do of judge.

Because other people are not me– they are them with their own gifts and purpose and perspectives.

The best any of us can do is to try and live our truth and respect other’s rights to do the same, as each of us tries to live in alignment with what is true for our purpose and journey. And what is true for me is that this late summer and fall blew the doors wide open on untapped abilities I’ve been given- intuition, clairvoyance, channeling, telepathy- and that I began to be called to use them in service of others.

It really wasn’t much of a choice, it was more like the universe just started delivering people to my doorstep, and I knew I was supposed to work with them in this fashion. And I quickly found that it delighted my heart to do so.

This is one of the biggest reasons I need to move to Kauai. The land supports that work here in a way that Alaska doesn’t. It’s so much easier to perceive, to see without seeing, to hear and listen over here. Even with an obnoxious head cold that is defiantly clogging up my brain despite my protestations it wasn’t welcome on my vacation, I can still hear the thoughts of the birds and trees outside my window: the bird’s songs tell people to be joy; the trees are more a wise murmur of peace and calm and patience.

I’m not as connected to this otherness back in Alaska; here the connection is almost involuntary and instantaneous.

Yesterday, we went for a run to a trail that goes along the rocks at Mahaulepu Beach. A spectacular string of beaches surrounded by lithified cliffs and sand dunes, it is one of the most pristine, magical places I have found on the island. I talked to the land in my mind as I went, offered tobacco from time to time as I’ve been taught to do in order to give back to the land.

She reminds me that in these chaotic times she is still standing, still holding all of us, that she is big enough for all the diversity in this place, and so can we learn to be.

I wonder as I go how others can’t hear the breaks and fissures and strains we are putting on her environment; that too many are pillaging and taking from what they should be protecting and giving to. My heart hurts for her.

I put the last of my tobacco in the aquamarine sea and tell her I’m here in peace, coming to this land to be a giver and not a taker, asking her with a humble heart for a place here. A gentle waves rolls in and a long, beautiful feather washes up at my feet; she answers back with this gift in warm welcome.

As I finish these words for today, I keep thinking how there are a million possibilities of who we can be in this world.

7 years ago I didn’t expect to make a break from my life as I knew it and strike out on a more authentic journey of the heart; I just knew something inside of me needed to be set free, and I had to find the space to do it. I didn’t expect the things that would come next; some of the heart shattering, shaping lessons of those times; the radical lessons in self-compassion and self-love; finding a true soul mate, one who challenges and sharpens and helps me spiritually grow in love.

I didn’t expect me to evolve as I did. For life to evolve as it did. For my brother to die so swiftly and suddenly. To begin to write books. To have these gifts of spirit develop in my life. To hear from him on the other side.

To feel so strongly called to come to Kauai and start a new book of my life here.

10 years ago if I could have traveled forward in time and see my life today, I wouldn’t have believed it.

That’s impossible, I’d say.

Improbable, but not impossible. Anything is possible. Just watch.