Nothing like a day at the beach.

Dog Beach.  That is.

So relaxing.  The sun’s rays warmly soak your skin.  The sky so blue.  Or hazy with marine layer.  As it was yesterday.  But who cares!  It was the beach.  In Southern California. Waves on fire.  Cue surf guitar tunes.

The galumph of dogs chasing balls and trotting through the surf.  Kids laughing.  Digging in the sand.  The sounds of the waves crashing and gliding up the shoreline.

Retreat.  Crash.  Glide.

Retreat.

Ah.

Crash.

Mmmmmm.

Glide….

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Hypnotic Induction 101.

So I was there yesterday.  At the beach, I mean.  For the solar eclipse.  I was hoping to get a glimpse of it over Easter Island.

But wouldn’t you know it…  Catalina was, like, totally blocking the view.

Wait.  That Catalina place.  That’s West.

Easter Island is South.  My bad.

So it was Dana Point in the way.  Sheesh.

I don’t know when the last time was that I saw an eclipse in my actual geographic area.  I so want to wear those funky glasses.

But I have not seen an eclipse since I was, like, seven.  And they didn’t have those funky, cool glasses back then.  I’m surprised it wasn’t in black and white.  The eclipse I mean.  Um.  Yeah. You know.  like the black and white TV’s we had in the olden days.

But I digress to July 4th…

Oh.  Wait.  I.  Didn’t post that here.  Bad Vick.  I haven’t posted in, um, two weeks…  Okay.  I’ll get back to that.

So anyway.

I did not see the eclipse again this summer.  Must be that crazy curvature of our beloved planet Earth.

So I did the next best thing.

I played in the waves.

And made New Moon wishes.  In the sand.  Allowing the waves to take my hearts desires, (and those wishes of my beloved friends who couldn’t come out to play), out to sea.

I hope a school of dolphins splash through our wishes with a bunch of  playful swishes.

It was a lot of fun.  But it was also getting to be hungry time.  So we packed up our stuff.  And as an appetizer, I was rewarded with a mouthful of sand.  Mmmm.

I can still taste it.  And feel it.  Sitting in my stomach.  Like a gravel pit or rock quarry. Where’s Fred Flintstone and his dinosaur rock busting crew?

Food?  Nah. Not for me. Fahgetaboudit!

Oh, well.  It’s swimsuit season.  Who needs food?  I got a sand witch.

Fun Your Way out of the Box!

Catalina · Dana Point · day at the beach · dog beach in HB · Easter Island · eclipse glasses · hypnosis · inductions · making wishes · new moon eclipse · sand · waves

Some guy was ranting and raving to me in multiple text messages the other day.

At least he claimed he was a guy.  I wasn’t exactly going to cash in that claim ticket.  Because I wasn’t as sure about it as he was.

Why wasn’t I so sure?

Because.

He was a whiner.

And not being from Joyzee, like moi, he did not exactly have official whine bragging rights.

And all the whining was.  Because.  He had a problem.

I offered him solutions and a lovely mantra that helps me when I have problems: “Look for Big Problems. They Mask Huge Opportunities.” Ooh! I get so excited by that one. Wow the opportunities are immense. It really helps me get through things.

But that wasn’t good enough. He had no money.  And his no money bought him a rotten car.

Ah! You have a rotten car now and can get to a rotten job. Whereas before you had no car and no job…. Things are looking up for you, dude!

But that had him spewing more at me. The universe was against him.  He was angry.  He was a spiritual guy, and did not deserve this treatment by the Universe. How dare the Universe do this to him.

I told him not to take it personally, because everybody has STUFF going on with them right now. He wasn’t the only one being affected by the economy.  And the Universe.   So I tried a little hypno-texting on him. Asked him to breathe.  Asked him to relax.  Asked him to be patient and that a solution would arrive.

No.  He refused to breathe.  And got angrier.

At me. This time. It appeared to be my fault.

Why?  Because I am Woman.  Hear me raw.

He whined.  (Wait! He’s not from Joyzee I said!)  “Women have it better than men.  They are always rescued by men.  Men have to stand on their own two feet and take care of themselves.  Nobody rescues men.”  Wah.  Call him a wambulence!

Oops.  He whined to the wrong person.

I am not exactly one of those types wailing out, “C’mon baby, and rescue me!”

Well, maybe if I hear Willie Bobo and his band singing it, then I just can’t help belting it out…  Whoa!  Hold me back.  Here I go!  Wait.  No.  Really.  Hold me back.

But there are just so many single moms out there struggling to get by.  I don’t see Prince Char-mink swooping in and buying them Fur-rah-reezes.  What did he want me to do? Snap my fingers and turn him into a woman?  Or even better give him his own two feet to stand upon so he can take care of himself and be a man?

So let me backtrack a little for a little back story.

This “guy” is supposedly a life coach and above all material things.  He describes himself as a person who bases his life on soulful, rather than material living.  But because he keeps getting kicked in the booty, and not actually earning some booty,  I think he’s living more sole-fully (as in sole of shoe to his keister) than ethereally.

Maybe if he would actually get a real job thingy that would help.  Or even more profound.  Maybe.  If he tried being an adult and taking responsibility for his own actions.  That would be major big on the helpness factor.

Anyway.

About a year ago, this “guy” stated to me that everyone knew how “powerful” I was.  (Who are these people I wonder?)  He knew that I could help him.  (Yep.  That’s me.  With Salvation Army tattooed on my forehead.)  For some reason, he seemed to think that I have super powers.  (I guess my cape gave it away.)  And that they will rub off on him.  (Kinda like garlic on toast.  Or.  Dog hair on black pants.)

In case you didn’t know these facts about me that I don’t know either:

1.  I melt butter with my eyes.  And a little help from the stove top.

2.  I am stronger than STRONG! With ease and grace I toss and juggle jumbo jets and cargo trains into the air as if they were toys.  Wait.  Those were toys.  Shhh!  Don’t tell him I was using a green screen.

3.  I walk through doors and walls.  Providing there is an open door for me to walk through.

4.  I have powers of invisibility.  Especially when I am in a crowd of really tall people.

5.  I can fly.  When I use my green screen.

6.  I can shape shift.  Because I do yoga.  And am almost a pretzel.

7.  I can breathe.  Therefore I am.

Yeah.  That’s me.  Vick the Slick.  World Savior! Watch me save myself from Whine poisoning as I delete message and contact information from cell phone.  Bye Bye Sole Man!  May the Universe give you what you deserve.

Funning my Way out of the Box, one problem at a time!

breathing · hypnosis · problem solving · Whiners

So today.  I was applying for a business license for my hypnosis practice.  The City Hall was empty and I was thrilled to be the only one there.  Then the city clerk gave me a printout declaring that I was a fortune teller.

And the line behind me grew.

Now I don’t know what hypnosis has to do with soothsaying, and I am not saying much, because psychic service selling is not my gig.

Yeah.  I got a little huffy, which isn’t my nature.  I told the clerk that I was going to call someone to find out my real classification.  She told me that she didn’t care what my associate claimed as our classification, because she was the city clerk and she had Da Powah!

Undaunted, I called Kathi, a fellow on the IHF board, asking her if I was a fortune teller.  She got so upset, that everyone on the first floor could hear her ranting through my cell phone, though she wasn’t on speaker phone.

She threatened a law suit.

I told the clerk.  “See.  I’m not a fortune teller.”

The clerk said, “I heard what she said!” and immediately found my correct classification, then sent me to the cashier.  The line at this point had grown even longer.

Then the cashier had an issue with what my invoice said and what was in the computer.  She blamed it on a slow computer then went all hush-hush over to old-bag clerk #1.  The two of them whispered a little, looking askance at me, perhaps expecting me to toss chicken bones and voodoo hexes on them.

Now the line from the clerk #1 was behind me watching the whole drama in line #2.  Wow.  I feel like a celebrity with that kind of following.

Anyway, clerk #2 finally returned giving me the reduced rate of legitimate business.  Woo hoo!

So she sent me up to the planning department.

These guys were totally cool, and thought nothing was weird about my business.  When I asked them what the problem was with the Finance Bee-yah-cheeze, they had no clue.  But when I told them that the Finance clerks tried to classify me as a fortune teller, one dude thrust his giant paw at me for a reading.

“Ah!  You have very large hands and long fingers.  You most certainly are a piano player!”  He was stunned with my accuracy.  I guess I missed my calling.  Right then and there, I should have gone back downstairs to get the fortuneteller’s license.

So yay.  I got my license, though I was terribly embarrassed at what I went through to get it.

Kathi, ever present in this ordeal, said I should go to the city attorney.

I marched back into that building, armed with old-bag clerk’s name, Madame XXX, and took the elevator to the 4th floor.

Kathi had filed a case the last time a hypnotherapist was harassed.  But the City attorney’s office could not find any records.  I lucked out when the deputy attorney showed up.  He had been hypnotized to quit smoking and he thought hypnosis was cool.

Plus, unlike the other embarrassed hypnotists, I had someone’s actual name.  You guys can run, but you can’t hide!  I am Vick the Slique, all powerful business card collector.

Yay!  I have an ally.

He promised to have a talking to the licensing department, so they don’t harass and embarrass other hypnotherapists in the future.

Wake up Finance Clerks of the World!  Alternative healing practices are out of the box and here to stay.

city hall clerks · embarrass · fortune telling · hypnosis

Today I went to a chamber of commerce luncheon. Knowing that I don’t exactly meet chamber of commerce luncheon member criteria, I went anyway. Why? Because I am not the typical member.

Was it uncomfortable? Yes. Did I wanna talk when the mike was thrust at me for my 20-second commercial? No. Did I do it anyway? Yeah.

Wow.

How do you get a bunch of conservative, republican people interested in hypnosis and reiki? How do you get them to want to have fun? How do you entice them to try things outside of their very structured boxes? I don’t know. But they probably need me more than anyone.

I guess I’ll just keep showing up until they get totally used to me. Or I’ll turn them all into barking chickens.

barking chicken · hypnosis · reiki