Thunderstorms Expected

Thunderstorms Expected

the delicate things

Leave your hardiness

Stand out in the yard
and brave the ozone

It’s coming for you
at any rate

filtering through the
window screen

or pounding the roof
in the form of hail


they describe it
in units of money
we don’t much care about

dime- or quarter-

or in expendable
sporting increments


When they get to bowling-ball-
I expect I’ll pay attention

But for now

it’s enough to read the
Special Weather Statement
which advises me that
“significant weather”
is coming

As if
my crawling scalp
hadn’t sensed that

As if
my livening nostrils
somehow forgot
the smell of

As if
my rumble-filled ears
could ignore
their own

As If.

I want to stop
expecting “weather”

I want to cease
for its arrival
or hoping
for its

I want to just sit
before the open window
and sniff the wind
as the cat does

hide under the bed
when the mighty sky above me
demands it


if I must know
it is coming
at least let me play
the rotund mother-to-be
who cannot restrain her shouts
or hold her pee

she is expecting

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Saturday Night Poem

Circle the Trees

Let everything
be your oracle
the dripping rain
and the dripping faucet
the unacknowledged hum of the furnace
and the roar in your own head
Take it in, in
and question everything
walk the yard
and circle every tree
Who are you?
Let drunkenness bring you sober
and sobriety bring you drunkenness
cycle around like the moon this way
and drink the nectar of ecstasy and fatigue
Leave nothing out
for it is not leaving you out
Allow the chill to shiver through you
and the fever to set you glowing
take hold of the fallen branch
and the new leaf
and shout the nothingness that you are
with certainty.

Copyright 1/26/13 Carol L. Steinel


Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing | 1 Comment

2013 Project

If you’ve read my blog at all, you’ll know about me and “resolutions.”

This year, I’m not “resolving” anything, but I did come to an intention that I feel confident that I can embrace:  To initiate and complete at least one act of pure creative fervor each day this year — tiny or huge.

Here’s today’s creation:

New Year Snow

I turn the chilled
curve of my ear
to catch it


shouts and howls
car horns
a train conductor
pulling on the horn
much longer than required

once I have it, though,
it cannot be ignored

I hear it
lacing its fingers through
the chubby infant hand
of the new year

and sighing

“Come on, then,”

as they fall together.

C. Steinel


Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing | 1 Comment

I Just Published a BOOK!!!!

Why yes.  Yes, I did.  If you’ve been wondering what I’ve been up to, this — among other things, like moving halfway across the country, and reuniting with my parents and completely changing my notions of who I am — is what I’ve been up to:  I’ve finished and published a novel.

An entire novel.  Yes.  I did that.

It’s called “Triplicate,” and it’s about what some of you may have heard me refer to as “the splitting of the worlds” — and I’m very happy about how it’s come out.

Triplicate - A  Novel of the Splitting of the Worlds

Get Carol’s New Novel

So, now it’s up for sale, and I want you to get a copy — partly because I’m just excited about finishing an actual book, but mostly because I think you’ll find it entertaining and fascinating and it might just help you navigate this amazing time that we’re in, where we’re being challenged to actually make a conscious choice about what reality we want to create.

<<<That’s the cover over there.

The story includes thrills, chills, cherubic and reprehensible characters, humor, seriousness, and a nice, twisty tale of what it’s like to navigate three seemingly incompatible realities at once.

You can get it easily in a number of ways:

Way #1: (I’ll admit I’m prejudiced in this, as Way #1 results in me getting the biggest percentage of earnings from my book) — go to my online store and get a copy of the ebook in the format of your choice (PDF, Epub, Kindle, RTF or LRF) — you can do that here: Buy Triplicate at Carol’s Webstore — Get a Great Read and Put the Most Amount of Cash in Her Pocket

Way #2:  Buy the Ebook at Smashwords in your preferred format (this gives me less of the percentage, but if you go here, you can read the first few chapters for free before you purchase, and decide if you want to continue):  Buy the Triplicate Ebook at Smashwords

Way #3:  Buy the Book in print — an actual book that you can hold in your actual hands, and turn pages and everything!  — Buy a print version of Triplicate at

Okay — that’s all for now.  I’m gonna go drink an icy-cold beer, because I’ve been working for days and days to get this all ready, and now — woo-hoo!  I PUBLISHED A NOVEL!!!

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What I Want For My Birthday: Two Dollars

OK — there’s this thing I want for my birthday.  I won’t say that I “need” it, because if I don’t get it, I’m not going to die (that’s my crossover line for want/need).  Let’s just say that having this thing would make my life easier right now (because I could edit the videos that I can’t currently edit, process the sound files that are very difficult to process right now, etc.).

Here’s the thing I want:

So I was thinking:  “I have 337 friends on Facebook alone, and something like 450 on my email list.  If every one of those people sent me a couple of bucks for my birthday, this laptop would be mine and then some.  Cheaper than buying a birthday card and a stamp, even”


So, if you’ve been wondering what to get me for my birthday, I’m telling you straight out what I want.

I want you to send me $2.

Of course, I won’t turn you down if you send more. 😉

To send me just $2, click this link (if you want to send more, use the next link down):

To send whatever amount you want – $1 – $20 – $200 – $2000 (I think the least they’ll let you do is $1 — but you can fill in the blank), click this link:

OK.  That’s it, really.  That’s what I want.

Posted in Uncategorized | 4 Comments

Getting Official

It hadn’t really occurred to me before, but I realize, now, that I haven’t actually made our “official” announcement anywhere beyond talking to friends and family:  we’re going to be moving.

We’ve given our notice, and come sometime in May/June, we’re going to be moving away from Port Townsend.  Our current trajectory has us headed for the Durango, Colorado area (although I realize this could change in an instant, given the rapidity of recent energies), and at this moment, we have very few plans about the “how” of that.  We don’t, at this moment, know where exactly we plan to live once we start heading in that direction, whether we’ll store our stuff here, or take it with us, etc.

Which might look “crazy,” from outside, but feels perfect from over here — for both me and my Beloved.

We both began to feel that, paradisaical as Port Townsend is, it is simply not our “place” anymore.  This doesn’t come as a surprise to me now, but would have, ten (or even five) years ago.  When I first moved to PT, I was very certain that this would be the place where I spent the rest of my life (my Beloved had similar feelings upon moving here).

The sense that I wasn’t properly placed began, I believe, more than a year ago, but certainty came after I returned from my trip to the Midwest.  While I was there, I experienced a sudden and surprising sense of physical vigor and energy shift.  It was more than just the energy of being on a trip — it seemed geo-physical and energetic beyond the simple newness that travel brings.

When I returned and told my partner about this, she confirmed that she, too, had experienced a growing sense that it was time for us to move along.

We opened ourselves to guidance and felt into the adventure.  We considered many places, discussed our likes and dislikes, “must-haves” and “must-not-haves”, and found that we both felt drawn to Colorado.

We’d each been having “fly-bys” about CO since the Autumn of 2010 — I’d pass a group of people talking on the street, and the word “Colorado” would be the only thing I’d actually hear of their conversation — the most promising prospective renter of the house we were leaving behind was relocating from Colorado, etc., etc., etc.

Durango popped up as a similarly small, quirky community that had many of the things we were craving — so that is where we are pointed — for now.

We got pretty clear about that by December, and I will say that in my long post-integration rambles around Port Townsend, there has been a consciousness that this beautiful little town may not be right outside my door for very much longer, but there is no sadness or regret tinging that — just a deep appreciation for this place that is so willing to be its weird and wonderful self.

We’ve given our notice and have enjoyed the interactions with our landlords/lady as we talk about what’s next — flexibility and openness reign supreme; a liberation and a blessing.

There are ways in which not knowing what is next feels profoundly freeing — and “youthening” in a way — last night, I was speaking with a friend about how I had moved out West in the late 70’s:  I had no idea what I would do for work or where I would live when I departed the great State of Kansas — I had a VW Bug packed with pretty much everything I owned (my mom would ship my books out to me later), and I drove across the country on a great adventure, unbowed and unworried about my future.

It feels like that again.  I am shedding more “stuff” before we go  — much of it well-loved and deeply valued — but like this wonderful town, not really “mine” anymore in some way.

There is one immense difference for me in taking this leap, compared to my leap of thirty-four years ago:  Technology.  Many (if not most) of my closest friends don’t live nearby me anyway — our contact is primarily via the internet or phone — so moving “away” doesn’t mean that I lose contact.

When I transported myself half-way across the continent after college, long-distance telephone calls were a cost so dear that they were reserved for Christmas, birthdays, and the occasional death or dire illness, and the vast majority of my contact with home was carried out via (many) letters sent through the post (most of them hand-written).  Sometimes I miss that kind of correspondence, but I suppose my blog has filled that gap, at least a bit.  Certainly I would not trade the immediacy of my technologically-enhanced contact for it now.

So there it is — official and in writing and for all the world to see.

I wonder what will happen next.

Posted in Announcements, My Town, Personal, Philosophy/Spirit, Spirituality | 2 Comments

Returning to the Chronicle

Today, I sought guidance about where to focus my energy.  The response was clear:  Chronicle and Grow.

I confess:  As I’ve blogged about the process of integration, the Little Mind piped up quite a bit, and I heeded it.

It said: “Who would want to hear about your arguments with Me?”

When I turned and faced this question, I discovered that the answer is:  “I would.  I would now, and I would have (and did) in the past.  Any person who would speak forthrightly about the process of expanding conscious, I would lend my ear to.”

So, I return to chronicling this experience I am having.  I take this guidance to heart, and come back to the story of myself.

If you could view my life from outside right now, very little would seem to have changed; I live in the same house, in the same town.  I drink my tea in the morning and sip a beer at night.  I read and answer emails.  I check Facebook.  I do the grocery shopping.

If you could see through my eyes, though, you’d see a house grown large and small with new focus, and a town that has exploded from stereotyped outline to a place stuffed with astounding detail.  You would taste the difference between this tea-bag and that one, and note how alcohol changes its effect with the weather.

This is a thing I’ve noted with every great transformation in my life:  Everything is the same and every thing is different.

That’s not how we’ve been told transformation “should” be.

If a great shift is made, then it’s supposed to be tectonic in nature — things should be moved around in a glaring manner, and we should be reeling and disoriented.

And yet.  And yet.

Ask anyone who has experienced the death of someone very close.  You walk away from their dying place and the dirty dishes are still in the sink — the laundry still waits in the hamper — the sun goes on setting and rising.  Sometimes, it seems almost like an affront; how can usual-ness go on when this has occurred?

Everything has changed and every thing is different.

My internal experience is like that.  The dirty dishes of the mind are still there, wanting to be scrubbed and placed clean for a new meal.  The roles I’ve worn like clothing are not worn through and ready to be discarded — but some of them, I want to give away, now, and others need stains washed out before I’ll want to don them again — and then there are the days when I think:  “Maybe I should just create a whole new wardrobe.”

I’m experiencing integration as different than what I’d previously thought of as “transformation” — perhaps it is that this integration contains transformation, but is not contained by it.  Perhaps I am recycling myself, rather than re-inventing myself.

And even now, the Little Mind pipes up to say:  “You haven’t spoken a single thing that makes a bit of sense.”

Alright — then, a walking poem:

Five Madonnas

I walk out
in the light of my dreams
half light half dark

where you must
really look
to see

Jupiter and Venus
form a straight line
above the west

I proceed
to where they stab
this collective finger

my right shoe
squeaks when I step into it
up the hill past the dog

who barks complaint
of my squeaking
to planets that can’t be bothered

I square my shoulders
and march on
to this brick wall with windows

Five Madonnas
keep their backs to me
beyond the glass

faces reserved
for the holy within
raiment folded against the night

the daffodils below
shower warm countenance
to even this growing darkness

Is it bravery
when you do not know
that you are brave?

copyright 2012 Carol L. Steinel
Posted in Consciousness, Divine Madness, Integration Notes, Philosophy/Spirit, Poetry, Spirituality, Writing | Comments Off on Returning to the Chronicle


Nearly ten years ago, I traveled to do some teaching and readings in what some people call “The Bible Belt.”

I had been teaching long enough at that time that I didn’t feel an enormous amount of trepidation about bringing my rather “out there” information to an area of the U.S. that many people assume is closed to certain spiritual forms that are outside the norms.  By this time, I had connected with spiritual seekers from all over the world, many of whom lived in areas that were considered extremely conservative, so I had been gradually letting go of personal biases about regions of the country/world and spiritual outlook.

I did have an interesting experience with one private reading client, though.

She arrived with that particular look in her eye that I’d seen before on hard-core skeptics.  When we tuned in and began, before she’d asked a single question, then-Carruch volunteered a series of images and energies that we’d received during the tune-in.  These images were extremely specific, and Carol watched from within as the client’s narrowed eyes opened wider and wider with each sentence.

There was no way we could have known this information — when she’d booked the reading, I had only her (rather usual) first name.  We’d never met, and I didn’t know anyone who actually knew her — she’d heard about my visit from the friend of a friend of a friend.

I actually like knowing nothing about a client before I read for them — pre-integration, I sometimes even enjoyed the phone sessions I did more in that regard — not seeing the person actually made it less likely that I might overlay any of my own assumptions on them as I was reading (based on their clothing, appearance, age, etc.).

It was clear from the look on this particular woman’s face that we had just read her with an accuracy and detail that simply defied “ordinary” understanding.

At the end of the session, she said to me (once Carruch had “gone”): “I hope you don’t feel offended by me saying this, but — honestly, I didn’t believe that people like you existed — that anyone actually had abilities like the ones you have.”

I assured her that I was not offended, and told her I hoped that what we had shared with her was helpful to her.

When I returned from my trip and recounted this story to a friend, he responded with: “That’s funny, really, because I find it hard to believe that people like her exist — people who don’t believe in this stuff.”

Over the years, I’ve met with many people who arrived at their session, or a class or circle with an attitude of extreme skepticism.  I hold discernment as a vital aspect of personal psychic hygiene, and actively encourage anyone who sits with me to “hold on to their skeptics hat.”  In fact, I request and prefer that people not continue sitting with me if they have any sense that the information I give isn’t in integrity or alignment for them; whether they think of me as a fraud or the information simply doesn’t touch them.   I think it’s more expansive for all if each individual prioritizes their own internal guidance rather than adopt external guidance which isn’t a “fit” for them.

That said — in the past, I was sometimes surprised at how often the most spontaneous, specific, and “uncanny” information actually came through for clients/students who arrived in a state of extreme skepticism.  I believe that, in many cases, this occurred precisely because their own soul had a deep desire to open to something “beyond the ordinary”, and so, willingly revealed information to us that the intellectual mind might have normally defended itself from (had it not arrived in a form that seemed to defy”ordinary” explanation).

Over the years, I’ve spoken with thousands of different people; in terms of their openness to spiritual concepts, these have ranged from those who some would call “guru chasers” (people who practice no discernment at all, to the extent that they subvert their own guidance completely to whatever seeming spiritual authority-figure appears) to those who have simply arrived at a session to play “test the psychic,” (even though their minds are already made up and that wouldn’t be shifted even if I managed to materialize a full-grown elephant into the room).

In between these extremes, of course, there have been all manner of variations and degrees of mind-sets and understandings, and a vast array of motivations for why someone would spend time sitting with a chubby little woman talking in a hard-to-identify accent. :)

One thing that is fairly consistent, though:  If you ask someone why they first came to sit with me, they will usually say that they were intrigued by the thought of interacting with something unusual or “out of the ordinary”.

Which seems funny to me now, in a way.  Even before integration, “Carol” had been living in the realm of what many people think of as “extra-ordinary” (channeling, psychic abilities, practicing daily psychic hygiene and alignment with Cosmic Law) for so long that it had become, in many ways “ordinary” for her.

Two of my favorite Then-Carruch quotes are:

“You pray and pray for the miracle, and then when it appears, you say ‘That’s so Weird!”


You come to see the psychic and then you’re surprised when they’re psychic.”

On my walk yesterday, I was very aware of one of the delightful effects of this blending of the oversoul and soul constructs that I’m naming as Conscious Integration:  That the extra-ordinary has become deeply ordinary, and the ordinary — profoundly extra-ordinary.

From my current state of consciousness, contemplation of the parade of past incarnations that I’ve taken through time simply seem sensible and orderly. Of course I would have chosen to incarnate in this or that particular time and place, so that I could meet this or that soul and form agreements about our “later” interactions.  Of course time and space appear as a grid for us to pass over (even though this barely touches the true nature of each)  — how else could we have the peculiar experience of sequential Nows?

Yet as I navigate this grid of sensible immediacies, I am brought to amazed stillness as I hear a garter snake slither away through the dried grasses — stunned by the concurrent distance and proximity of mountains showing off their newest snow-robes — surprised at the mellowness of an old acquaintance’s voice as they greet me.

The hunger for the miraculous is within every human being.  We want to be astounded and impressed-upon and lifted out of ourselves — it feels wonderful, and energizes us.  We crave magic.

Some find it in science, and eschew any notion of divinity.  Some find it in religion, judging rationality as limiting and unenlightened.

The magic in these polarities, though, is this: If you look long enough, from enough perspectives, you eventually find everything everywhere — after all — we are the ones who have created the seeming paradox of our existence.  There can be no “extra-ordinary” unless we declare the ordinary — no unusual until we define what is “usual”.

We can look all we want “out there” for this magic, and we will never find it, unless we realize that what we are seeking — when we visit the psychic, or peer into the microscope, or fold our hands in the pew — is ourselves.

Posted in Consciousness, Integration Notes, Philosophy/Spirit, Psychic, Spirituality, Time | Comments Off on Ordinary/Extra-ordinary

What Is It Like?

In the past twenty years, I’ve worked/played with (literally) thousands of people in the course of my work as a psychic/channel/mentor/guide — and I’ve had hundreds of people ask me what that “feels like”.

As is true of most things in my experience, I’d have to answer:  “It depends.”  It depends on what type of connection I’m making with someone, and where they are at energetically, and how broad the connection is (to an individual or to many people, which isn’t always dependent on whether I’m doing a “private” session or an open circle).

For example:  I’ve had the experience of working in a one-on-one session with someone who served a multitude of other people, or who had a metric ton of guides working with them, and energetically, that can feel like working with hundreds of other beings.

Conversely, I’ve sat in circles with twenty or thirty people that felt very energetically “quiet”.

So it depends.

Tonight, I’m writing about this to remark about the very distinct energy shift that I am experiencing by simply opening to a new possibility.

For the past three days, I’ve been putting together a new approach to making what I have to offer available to others.  This involved a lot of testing of new technologies and coding and such, and that’s activity that I enjoy, so the construction of the needful technology was a blissful journey — one that I’m fairly familiar with.

Something that I hadn’t anticipated, though, was the shift in energy that I experienced once I sent out the announcement about this new, more immediate format.  I very intentionally opened myself to a new availability for service (offering my psychic/guidance skills in a “right now” mode), while, in the past, I had carefully structured and planned my availability  (you can schedule with me in thus-and-such a manner, and here are my policies, clear and complete — and often, rigid).

Today, as soon as I sent the email announcing this new avenue of availability, I felt the change.  I could actually feel the emails out there, being opened, and sense how I had opened my energy in a new way.

It feels exciting, and it feels like a lot.  The first person to engage me using the new system said, after their fifteen-minute session:  “Huh.  I just thought I was asking about finding this thing that I had lost — this was an answer about where to look, and a whole lot more.  Are you sure that was just fifteen minutes?”

Was it just fifteen minutes?  Well, that depends, I suppose . . .

I can feel the excitement — the big “yes” in my body — that says: “This way!”

Posted in Integration Notes, Philosophy/Spirit, Psychic | Comments Off on What Is It Like?

Another Walking Poem

Saturday Night Walk

We live in large houses
inadequately filled

stuff them with
things and things

until there is no room
for laughter to roar
no tiny space through which song
might rise to shake the rafters

so that we feel them still empty
and hunger for something more

The houses on this block
and this block and this block
all sit with one window glowing

blue of the television
yellow of the reading lamp
stark white of the monitor facing a face

I do not know who is taking in
all this light
whether they sit by themselves
wishing away their loneliness
or relish solitude
at the end of the day

whether they share the couch
with raucous friends joyously
or in sufferance

Four churches squat
on their corner lots
full of empty chapels
and glass deprived of its stain by the dark

I want to hear
what is rustling inside
shuffling of mice-feet in the community kitchen
whispers of long-ghosted parson’s wives

The high wide spaces within
pull at me like any vacuum
they are waiting for the morning
and their chance at service
From downtown, music wafts up the hill
it might be rock and roll
but damp air and shifting wind
have turned it hurdy-gurdy

In a few hours the bars
will retch out final reprobates
I walk up the steps of First Presbyterian
and hear the door licking its lips

copyright 2/29/12  Carol Steinel [all rights reserved]

Posted in Integration Notes, My Projects, Poetry, Writing | 2 Comments