Author Archives: Diana Rankin
Piper the Psychic
I’m psychic. That’s what Mom calls it. We dogs know it’s natural. It’s who we are. We know things. People know things too, but they don’t know they know. That’s the difference. It was Friday night at Sacred Circle. That’s … Continue reading
An Irish Story of Love and Peace
When I was in Northern Ireland, I signed the Peace Wall on the Irish Catholic side. This was a big deal because my last name is Rankin. My ancestors were Scot-Irish and even though they fought in the Siege of … Continue reading
Piper Runs with the Wind
I love to run. When Mom throws my ball, I run after it. I catch it. Then I run back to her and tell her to throw it again. I get to run more and more. I run until Mom … Continue reading
Piper Forgives Herself
I’m a good girl. Really I am. Mom tells me so all the time. She never reminds me of the day I wasn’t a good girl. The day I sent my Yorkie sibling over the doggy rainbow bridge. I was … Continue reading
A Blessing Creates a Higher Consciousness
Blessing another, our food, a situation and ourselves takes us to a higher state of consciousness that allows us to experience life from a perspective different from that of the normal state of daily affairs. Although there is some controversy … Continue reading
Piper’s Labyrinth Walk
I got to walk the labyrinth. Well, maybe I ran. The labyrinth’s in the meadow. It’s a special place. Mom walks the labyrinth sometimes. She says it’s a sacred walk that helps you love more. It’s fun to walk the … Continue reading
Phillip’s Wisdom on Anger
Phillip: Anger is a form of fear. Fear is the opposite of love. To truly know the appreciation of love, fear must be known. Do you not judge evil by that which you call good? Is it not in … Continue reading
Piper’s Fun Day
We played ball today. It was fun. Sometimes Mom pretends she throws my ball. I run and run after it, but she’s still holding my ball. When she does that, I run back to her and scold her. No fair. … Continue reading
Hazel’s Angels
It was in the mid-1990’s when I was attending Jean Houston’s New York Mystery School that I met Hazel and her angels. She was a lady of a certain age by then but during World War II Hazel was a … Continue reading