Why I Don’t Call Myself Psychic
I’m just able to ask good questions
I am curious by nature, an inquisitive child who used to ask questions that my parents were not always able to answer on the spot. That didn’t stop me from asking and they always encouraged me to seek answers.
Among numerous other books, our home had both a dictionary and a full set of Funk and Wagnalls Encyclopedias that lined book shelves in our dining room. If I wanted to know how to spell a word, my mother’s refrain was, “Look it up.” I would then say, “If I don’t know how to spell it, how can I look it up?” She would volley back, “Sound it out.” Thus began my fascination with learning all I could about everything I could.
My imaginative inner world was and still is, quite colorful. I learned from nature too as I spent time immersed in it. I would dig in the dirt in the gardens in our yard, planting seeds and discerning which growth were weeds and which were fruits, veggies or flowers. I would ride my bike through my neighborhood, feeling the breeze blowing my hair. I would listen to the trees as the wind danced them. I would wish upon stars. I would lie on the grass and gaze skyward, pondering whether the clouds were moving above me or the Earth was moving and the clouds were stationary.
