I Forgive You John Edwards

So many people think forgiveness is about condoning an act or behavior. It is not. To me, it’s about seeing a situation from another point of view. Not so much from a strategic viewpoint, but a compassionate one.

You see, for many years I have studied spiritual and religious texts and they all basically say the same thing—forgive. But what does that mean? That it was okay for John Edwards to have another baby with another woman, or to cheat on his wife? No. Not at all. Instead, I choose to see this in an entirely different light.

I cannot imagine the horror of burying my own child. No matter how many times I have done readings for people, including for parents who have lost their children, I, myself, cannot imagine the pain. I know there is eternal life. And the euphoric sense of pleasure it gives me to “tune” into someone who has passed is truly intoxicating in its purest form. This spiritual exhilaration is hard to describe. The energy is filled with so much happiness, glory, eternity and love. It’s absolutely precious and it’s something I’ve never taken for granted. But afterwards, as I sink back into my own reality, I reflect on what and who I’ve reached out to, knowing that these souls are not physically here for their parents to touch.

Crushing. Debilitating. Indescribable. Who could endure this? To try to put one foot in front of the other and take each day as it comes is more than challenging. How can someone get though this? Prayer? Divine guidance? It’s all available, but still, at the end of the day, their loved one is gone.

I’m not rationalizing John Edwards’s behavior, nor am I saying that it has to be justified. That’s not the point. However, if we can step back and look at the overall picture, we may be able to see a more understandable situation.

If one of the richest loves you can experience in this life is the love for your own child, then how can this be so permanently dismissed? Obviously both he and Elizabeth have held onto their faith and love for this child, and have taken huge strides in their life, even to the extent of having more children. And I’m sure they value and honor their deceased son, as well as love their children they have now. I’m sure they even loved each other once as husband and wife.

But somewhere along the line, the protective boundary came down, and an inexplicable pain permeated their souls. Like a terminal disease that progressed slowly over time, this anguish unfortunately manifested itself as a harmful, self-destructive behavior, a real time bomb waiting to explode.

You see, when we associate love with abandonment, we never really capture the logical meaning of this loss. Our psychic sense tells us that we are still close. That love never dies, and that our loved one is merely a breath away in another dimension-- softer, higher, right next to us. Yet our minds are incapable of comprehending this. Our senses are limited. It all seems so real in this reality.

And in this dimension, and only this dimension, our pain unfortunately survives and finds its way into our hearts. With every breath, we are constantly reminded how sad we are, and how angry we, and how we can’t connect with those we love. Yes we can adjust our fine tuning to fill the void with loving people, purposeful goals, and higher expectations, but the heart knows and recognizes the love that’s still real and the love that’s been lost at the same time.

So often I have done readings on people who have self sabotaged their great, loving relationships only to see that it’s because they have associated love with their fathers’ or mothers’ abandonment, usually through verbal or physical abuse. Instead of unconditional love, they associate a disassociation and lack of a healthy connection. Even sarcasm and conditional thought is a form of abandonment and denial of attention.

So the neglected child grows up into an adult and eventually sabotages healthy relationships. Why? Because somewhere deep in their subconscious memory they associate love with abandonment and therefore protect themselves from the pain, causing the loving relationship to end. I’ve seen it countless times, or should I say, I’ve been shown this countless times in my clients’ sessions.

I’m sorry, John, that you lost your son. I know words can never comfort the heartache you must feel. You loved mightily, fully, and richly, and God gave you a miracle to adore. Then it was lost, with no explanation or forewarning. I’m sorry. I am truly sorry.

So it is this man, the crippled father, who cries in the night over the loss of his precious son that I target in my mind. This man, I love and forgive. This man, I send angels, light, and God’s touch knowing that somehow your pain will be healed. The rest I let go.

How does this play out in the present moment? I don’t know. I choose not to partake in judgment. For me it’s just an ineffective, limiting mindset. The energy it creates is lifeless, dull, and stagnant. Besides, who am I to be righteous?

We have all made mistakes—all of us. And it is only us; in our human irrationality and pious thinking that categorizes degrees of mistakes as “good,” “bad,” or “better.” As I see it, they’re all in the same category: judgment constricts and blocks, forgiveness and surrender frees—all of us—not just the one we aim at.

A Course in Miracles says:

“Forgiveness is unknown in Heaven, where the need for it would be inconceivable. However in this world, forgiveness is necessary for all the mistakes we have made. To offer forgiveness is the only way for us to have it, for it reflects the law of Heaven that giving and receiving are the same.
When a brother acts insanely, he is offering you an opportunity to bless him. His need is yours. You need the blessing you can offer him. [And] there is no way for you to have it except by giving it.

You do not need God’s blessing because that you have forever, but you do need yours.

Forgiveness is the means by which we will remember. Through forgiveness the thinking of the world is reversed.”

And so I say, I forgive you John Edwards.

My Heart Belongs to Studio City

A lot happens when I walk my dog. My mind wanders about where I am now and where I’ll be going. I currently live in Glendale, an older town right outside the city limits of Los Angeles. It’s easy to imagine the nearby hills once covered in orange groves. Old fashioned photos of Glendale show nostalgic orange crates with popular radio celebrities filling them with fruit. And the trains that used to transport these oranges across the country can still be heard right down my street. They are now next to the busy freeways that connect the townships of LA.

There are huge oaks and pines along my neighborhood that make beautiful tree tunnels along the streets. And there are many plaques throughout Glendale to commemorate all the historic homes. There are a few grand, old estates, Mediterranean in style, but mostly there are smaller stucco bungalows with fruit trees, pools, and large yards like mine.
People get out and walk around here, and it’s almost
mandatory to have a dog. I didn’t have a dog when I moved here. We had just put our previous pet down to sleep. I was too busy fixing, or should I say, dealing with plumbing problems to handle a new dog. Besides, I was still in mourning. But once we got settled in and took a ride up to the Doberman shelter “just to drop off some old blankets,” we saw a young 4 month old puppy who absolutely stole our hearts. We went back the next day and brought him home. He was so excited to come with us that he threw up in the back seat of our car!


Glendale has malls, both indoors and out,
fun places to eat, and movies galore. It is a
community mixed with commerce and a large residential area, and people who like things “the way they were.”


That’s OK if you like NyQuil and soft music, but for me, my heart yearns for a little more action.

Studio City is a mere 10 miles away, but the energy is filled with more creativity and possibility. You can feel a tangible pulse of “what could be” and “what’s happening!”
Actors and actresses, screenwriters, TV and movie people are on every corner. They can be seen running to the bank, getting their Starbucks coffee, and buying their scented candles at one of the many trendy boutiques. There’s Pilates, Yoga, spirituality, religion, tolerance, politics, gays and Jews – an eclectic mix of human potpourri. There are also a lot of people who walk their dogs.

I met an outgoing woman the other day at Petco in Glendale. She had very short hair, tattoos, and wore a plaid cap. We chatted about Dick Van Patten’s dog food, our dogs’ likes and dislikes, and had an overall enlightened conversation. Unfortunately for me, this kind of dress isn’t the norm for Glendale. I miss bumping into these kinds of unique individuals. (I bet she lived in Studio City!)

I have a personal history with Studio City: it’s where my husband and I lived when we were first married. Although we enjoyed a “southern California” kind of life living at the beach in a tri-level townhome, after we got married (on a boat with our friends, family, and a few alcohol induced sea-sick incidents) we bought our first house. We were young and enthusiastic. I sold real estate and my husband worked at nearby Disney Studios. We got a dog, replastered the pool, picked lemons and oranges, and enjoyed living in studio city!

Our neighbors put out a giant sized plastic nativity scene at Christmas with real hay scattered amongst the paint-chipped baby Jesus. We drove a brand new BMW, and loved the way we could “pop” over to Beverly Hills via Coldwater Canyon. We even had our favorite restaurant on Sunset Blvd., Nicky Blair’s, where you could see short, balding men that had tall, voluptuous girls, cell phones, and no penises. Apparently rich with great Hollywood status, these men would flaunt their women and phones like trophies. Remember, this was back in the 80’s and cell phones and breast implants weren’t exactly perfected yet. The girls were a little “over the top” and the cell phones were the size of boot boxes. Both looked ridiculous, but it was akin to today’s reality shows--fun to watch!

I had my first child in Studio City. Actually he was born at Cedars Sinai in West LA, but I brought him home to Studio City. My dad had pasted pastel teddy bears on his bedroom wall, as well as done most of the remodeling. Our home was really cute.


Studio City is where we moved back to after living in Laguna Beach for almost 20 years. I was blessed to live there; raise my kids within walking distance of the beach, witness incredible daily crimson red sunsets over the Pacific Ocean while watching the whales play with their young. Paradise. I lived it. But it was great to be back in Studio City.


Two years ago, my mother had just survived aortic bypass surgery. We moved up here to LA County shortly after her surgery, my son’s graduation, and me just finishing my first book, (my second one is in progress.) We put my mom in assisted living, registered my kids in college and school, and I began my new writing and speaking career while living in Studio City. It was fun. We lived in a darling cottage bungalow. I planted flowers and picked oranges and lemons, again, and shopped at all the cute, neat, trendy shops along the boulevard.
Everyone walked their dog, including me. Everyone had an interesting story, including me.

My neighbor, who has just recently died on my birthday last October, was a holocaust survivor who raised two children, one with a crippling disability that eventually claimed her life after 47 years—35 years longer than expected. It was due to my neighbor’s persistence and determination.

She couldn’t hear well but still managed to get outside everyday to water her flowers, squeeze my daughter, praise her on her looks and talent, and say hello to all the neighbors.


My son was injured by his routine vaccines which caused many developmental delays in his language and his speech. He was one year of age at the time. Within a few years, I found ways to organically detox his immune system and overcome all his delays. He grew up strong, healthy, and vibrant. This was due to my persistence and determination. Although our outcomes were not the same, my neighbor’s triumph was that she was a committed, loving mother.
Like me. And she was my friend.

My old neighbor from 20 years ago still puts out her plastic Jesus during the holidays. She’s quite a bit older and her kids are now grown and have moved out. My mom passed away a few months ago and has joined my dad and her family in Heaven, I’m sure. I will always have good memories of her, my dad, Laguna Beach, and Studio City.

But now, even though I walk my dog along Glendale’s wooded avenues, I yearn for my own home amongst the trees-- a home near Laurel Canyon would be good. Artistic, and nostalgic, I crave the cramped parking spaces of Studio City’s Trader Joe’s Market, the crankiness of those drivers who can’t turn left, and the over-rated confidence from those bald guys in Porches. Besides, where else can you witness an attractive woman gracefully flipping off another driver with a perfectly manicured finger while single-handedly maneuvering her new Lexus sedan? Studio City!

It's a New Year, a New Way of Thinking

Gratitude. It’s a funny thing. Thinking about all the things, people, and blessings in your life does have a curative effect—it makes you appreciate all you have in life. But for me, it’s often displayed against all those things I don’t want. Don’t get me wrong, I am appreciative for so many things—my health, my children, my passion for inspiration and being inspired, being creative, and of course living only a few miles from Nordstrom. But there is a loose brick on my path that constantly trips me up—I am unfulfilled.


The part of me that stretches to the sky to see what’s on the other side is a gift, one I yearn to share. Although I am one of thousands who has pursued a path of enlightenment, I am determined to make a career out of it. How? That’s what I’m still figuring out.

Clairvoyance is easy for me. I happened to stumble upon it like a good restaurant—it’s something I truly enjoy. But the profoundness, wisdom, and joy that radiate from each and every one us, that ingredient which permeates our energy and reflects itself as others’ emotions, spiritual beings, and colorful auras is fascinating to me. These higher voices which help navigate our lives can be so profound and intoxicating. Tuning into them brings me immense comfort and joy, not to mention the healing effect it has on the people the messages are geared for.


This cognitive clairvoyance is always available to us. Science explains it, and religion paraphrases it—that we are all intertwined as one, composed of an intelligent, loving energy that expands and creates by projecting itself in unique, emotional ways. We are human and eternal at the same time. We are connected to “All That Is” while simultaneously feeling separated in order to experience duality. So which one is real? The one we focus on.







Easier said than done.



I, like so many, get bogged down in the day to day routine-- kids, laundry, housework, cleaning guinea pig cages, that I find it impossible to focus on anything other than what’s in front of me. It seems almost futile to think that in order to receive the things I want in my life I must first take time to propose a written statement and present it to the universe as a request. Oy! Another thing to do!

However, I will say that when I do take a few minutes to write down these specifics, on what I deserve, what I want to experience in my life, how I want to be treated, and how I see myself fulfilled, by God , this DOES make me feel better. It gives me worth and reminds me to trust in life’s process. So, I give myself permission to ask—for anything and everything-- for me, my family, and the world, and then I let it all go. I allow my ideas, thoughts, dreams and desires to float away into the universal matrix, knowing that my name is labeled on all of them.


In the meantime, I work with what I’ve got. I’m noticing all the little things that make me happy now. Instead of just deliberating on those things that will make me more comfortable—cash flow, a fabulous career, a new home, luxurious furniture, Pilates 3 times a week, sold out speaking engagements, writing a bestseller, Nordstrom’s sales….which I know will manifest for me, I am now starting to consciously focus on those things that bring me immediate joy. For instance, I am so happy when my daughter hangs up her clothes or doesn’t yell at me for my inability to master phone texting, and I’m ecstatic when my husband leaves the room to clear his sinuses. But the best moments lately are over my puppy dog’s stool—they’re finally firming up! And for this, I thank God out loud for all my life’s blessings!

Happy New Year 2010!

MY DOG TOY

Toy was an incredibly handsome Doberman Pinscher. Slim and muscular with Dorito-shaped ears. We called him “The Nut Dog” because he was out of his friggen mind! He was hyperactive, excited, and thrilled to be alive!

Four years ago, after we put down our beautiful dobie-shepherd girl, we missed not having a dog around. So we started to look into rescue shelters. Although a few months had passed and we had purchased 2 little furry ball guinea pigs that we immediately fell in love with, we craved the feeling of having a dog. Eventually, my daughter and I made the 2 hour plus drive to the dobie rescue shelter “just to look.”

Riding past avocado, orange, and lemon orchards, we arrived at the rescue home of at least 50-60 dogs. Lovingly cared for by one woman and local volunteers, my daughter and I must have pet every dog a couple of times. Finally, after an hour or so of visiting with different dogs, we couldn’t resist, and chose “our guy”. He was hot (it was over 100 degrees), bone thin, and smelly. But he gave us this look while laying on his cot that said “I’d get up again to see you but I don’t think I can take it. Please take me home with you.” So we did. It was a done deal.

When we got home, I washed him in our backyard, and we all looked at him as a new member of our family. We named him Toy, after the black dog I had as a child. I had a feeling that he reincarnated and came back to me. I even used to close my eyes and see his image around this new dog. Either way, this Toy brought me a new sense of joy. That night, he slept next to me on the floor in his fresh bed. This was where my other dog used to lie. My husband kissed me goodnight and whispered “you got your dog,” knowing I was happy to love again.

I had never had a rescue dog before and I naively thought that all I ever had to do was just feed and love him and then everything would be fine. Wrong. Like puppies, you have to train then, give them boundaries and a job, and a become pack leader. Duh. I thought I could put my feet up and relax. But like kids, they test you with poop, barking, opposition, and independence. So we worked with our marvelous trainer, both privately and with classes, and soon Toy became the family pet.

Everywhere we went, people would stop their cars and comment on his majestic beauty. It seemed everyone had a dobie love story to share. Even when we moved to a new house, our neighbors came over to welcome our dog to the neighborhood before us! Toy was a popular guy!

My shins were always bruised. That’s because he’d do abut a 1,000 spins just to go out and chase a squirrel. And it took me about a year to be able to kiss him on his head without getting knocked out. In a way, I was glad he was more active than our previous dog. He got us out, climbing hills, and exploring new neighborhoods for hours.

He became a little more relaxed through the years, and I treasured the way he put his head on my leg to be stroked and loved. It seemed like I always had my hand on his head and shoulders.

He was predictably happy and made us laugh. He was enthused to start the day, and would poke his nose on my arm as if to say “Hey, let’s go! It’s anew day!” The kids liked the way I would speak for him and say in a goofy surf-dude voice, “ Uh, my name is Toy, I am a boy, and I’m full of joy!” Again, he’d do 1,000 circles and want to play.

Then one day he stopped in the middle of playing tug-of-war with me to walk away and lie down. Soon he began to look for places to hide. This was very out of character. He started digging, ignoring us, then staring… quietly seizing. It wouldn't be all the time. He would snap back to being our frisky boy. But these things happened more and more frequently. He wasn’t the same. And I knew it. I grieved the inevitable, recognizing this path I had taken so many times before. I knew it was his time to go home. Toy passed on May 13, 2009, after one last walk around the block.

God, we love our pets, and it’s true they make us better souls. They are truly our heavenly messengers. They show us how to experience a rich and unconditional love. We are better for having had such experiences, if only to touch the wings of angels.

I miss Toy. We had him for only 4 years. But everyday was special because of him. For this, I am grateful. And I will always treasure him—forever.

Weight No More! A Hormonal Story

As far as I’m concerned, losing weight has always been the hardest thing to do —until now! I am currently on the hCG diet and have already lost close to 18 lbs in 2 weeks! I never could have imagined that this would be happen for me. I always thought that I would just carry all my baby weight with me for years-- (she’s 11 now. Not exactly a baby. But still…) Yet, what makes this so incredible for me is that weight loss was not my primary goal—feeling better was.

You see, I’ve been riding the great hurricane hormonal waves for almost 10 years now. Even though I’ve been using naturally compounded progesterone, estrogen, and testosterone on a regular basis, I still have a thyroid imbalance, hypoglycemia, insomnia, and a digestion system that has literally been on strike for years. (Wow! How fun!)

I also suffer—I mean really suffer—from fibromyalgia. Even though I am an optimistic person, spiritual, and clairvoyant, I still can get so dragged down by not being able to function without pain. All I can do is pray; take it one day at a time, and just surrender.

A year ago I had a frozen shoulder for over 8 months. That was so incredibly painful, on so many layers, it’s a miracle that I’m typing and swimming and functioning normally again.

However recently, my metabolism had literally shut down. I was juicing greens everyday, taking jillions of vitamins and supplements, walking and going to gym when I had energy, avoiding sugar and carbs, but still, couldn’t get in the game. Every part of my body hurt. I was hungry, faint, and weak every few hours. My feet hurt when I walked and they were so swollen with fluid. Finally, after a few nights of painful fibromyalgia and saying about 100 times “Dear God help me,” I sat with my marvelous alternative doctor and said “I friggen give up.” I already paid my dues the year before with pain, and did not want to live a limited existence.

She suggested this diet, primarily because it is a compounded hormone that regulates the brain, balances out all the other systems, and suppresses the appetite. And it targets all that stubborn belly fat!
She said that by losing the weight, my metabolism will re-establish itself, my glucose levels will stabilize, and many of my garden variety “can’t function in life” symptoms will dissipate.

So I’m happy to say that it’s working. I’ve lost close to 20 lbs in just a few weeks plus I feel centered, calm, and hopeful. Although I have not completely conquered all the fibromyalgia pain (it seems to strike between 3-5 am—hot, burning muscles,) it is getting better. But it’s during the day when I feel so different. Instead of needing to sleep mid-day, I feel in control and proactive. I don’t feel jittery—this isn’t one of those “Hoodia” energy booster type diets—I can’t stand that feeling. With this hCG, I feel delicate and deliberate. I don’t feel weak, but I don’t over extend myself either. I stroll with my dog rather than power walk with him. I carefully weigh my whitefish for the day; eat lots of spinach, greens, shrimp and strawberries. (I kind of overdid the apple cider vinegar on salads and got sores on my tongue, so I’ve switched to alternative greens like cucumber and celery.)

The diet is very exact. You take 5 sublingual drops am and pm, 500 calories a day, lots of water, and 100mg of fish or skinned chicken twice a day. Oh yes, and 2 breadsticks or Melba toasts too!

The thing is you don’t really feel hungry. So you can control your eating. I do miss eating some things, especially while walking through the mall with my daughter. But it’s funny. It’s more of an emotional thing—I just want to eat it to enjoy it, not because I’m hungry. (It really exposes how we habitually eat!)

This is a closely monitored medical program. My glucose levels and heart rate are checked continually. So is my weight loss.
But overall, I feel that this is an answered prayer—to be free of pain, exhaustion, and sluggish digestion. And I can’t wait for my daughter to see me slim again—it will be a first for her.

Stay tuned for more updates!

My Personal Physician: Ester Mark M.D.