Ten of the Strangest Fears You Ever Heard About!

Tonight, when I was reading about fears, I saw this word: Kakorrhaphiophobia, so I decided to play google search.

abstract painting of fearful face

The face of fear

I love googling weird things. I’ll type two unrelated words in the search bar and hit go, just to see what comes up.

Much to my surprise and delight, not only did the definition of Kakorrhaphiophobia come up, but a whole long list of the weirdest fears I’ve ever heard of continued down the page!

So here are a few of the ones I saw on that page.

Wait until you read what Gynophobia is!

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The Spirit Door

Suddenly, the plastic sheet in my hands quivered a little, and there! There it was! The Door!

A woman with wild blue hair holds aloft a budding Tree of Life

Made of Day

In a dream, I was with a man who was kind of Tibetan looking, but not. He was showing me a piece of sheet plastic — about a foot square, clear, shiny. He was shifting it around in his hands a bit, playing with reflecting light off it onto the wall beside us.

Suddenly, he stops, looks closely, and says, “Got it! See?” I look, and all I see is a shiny piece of clear plastic.

He hands me the sheet, and says to shift it around until I “see the Door.” Huh? OK. So I shift it around, trying to see into it, trying to see color, trying to see anything! But no, nothing appeared.

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You know me – I’m the one who wishes she could heal the world of all pains and wrongs, help people feel good, see the gold in every mud puddle – blahhh blahhh blahhh –

So frustrated today!

Yeah. Well, not so much today. I’m the one in the puddle today, and it seems nine miles deep. And yes, I know it’s an illusion – an ill-used one – sure seems/feels real to me.

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What Happens to You When You Watch Scary Stuff in Movies and Videos?

Sometimes I do things that drain my energy. I forget to stop, and end up an emotional mess. Have you ever done that?

Silly birdies and silly titles

Silly Birdies

A video I watched a couple of days ago that a friend sent me was one of those really well-done, 2-hour videos outlining how ‘they’ do this bad thing and ‘they’ do that bad thing, and how ‘we the people’ are suffering, and are powerless and helpless….

As I watched, I began to feel like I’d been kicked in the guts.

I could quite literally feel my energy field grow darker and darker, and my body feel weaker and weaker. Continue reading


“…We all have darkness and light in us, but we also have the ability to choose love over hatred….”

Yes! In a video I watched a few days ago, Jordan Peterson was saying that unless you face and accept your dark side, you will just be a weak person.

I agree. It’s not that once you find your dark side you have to express it – it’s that you find it, accept it’s there, and choose NOT to express it. That makes you a strong person. And dangerous, because you know you will use that dark side if needed. I really like that.
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My Thoughts of Peace Fly Out Far Beyond Me

Because love is a verb. And it acts a million times more powerfully than our puny little minds can imagine.

My Thoughts of Peace Fly Out Far Beyond Me

At 13, my dentist decided that deflowering me right in the open, right on the dentist chair, would be a cool thing to do.

I was so shocked, so surprised, so absolutely flummoxed that I felt empty, void, deflated, suspended from anything I’d ever known before. I was the embodiment of the thousand-yard stare.

I felt so helpless and so betrayed that I ended up wanting to hurt everyone, even people who were not involved in any way, and even people who would have helped if they’d known how I felt, and if they’d known how. Continue reading

Hope Is A Beggar. Or Is She?

I once knew a fantastically popular, immensely powerful man. Once his swooning fans had left for the night, he would retreat to his den.

Song of Solace

He’d try to bend his skeletal frame around the huge, impossibly soft pillows on his couch, and he’d sit there, scowling and frowning, gazing blindly out into the night.

He’d hear me talk about a project or an event, hoping it would turn out well, or hoping I could get it to work, and he’d cry out, scolding me, “Quit saying I hope this, I hope that! Because it won’t happen! It won’t happen, do you hear me? Hope is an empty beggar!””

He’d glare at me, pinning me to the wall with the daggers of his eyes, trying to punish me for outright refuting his truths. Continue reading


In a dream, I ushered men out of a light-filled chute and onto the ground at the bottom.

Creation of Beings

I could hear them flopping and bouncing and clattering down the chute, some cussing loudly, some weeping and wailing, terrified; others silent.

All came out with a shout of pleased and excited surprise that they were still alive and unharmed.

My role was to show them how to see that thoughts are things, and that they could create their own reality from now on. Continue reading


I had a dream where I was being hunted by dozens of enormous ravenous beings.

Gnarly Monsters try to grab me…

They stomped and crashed the very earth under their feet, making me stumble and fall.

Each one reached gnarly fingers out to grab and rend me, but somehow could never latch on.

I was terrified.

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What’s the Difference between jpg, tif and png Image Files?

What do the different file type names mean and how do they affect your images?

These explanations of file types will help you understand what kinds of files to use for your documents, print books, ebooks or websites.

cover from my book, the Etsy Image Guide
Cover of my book, The Etsy Image Guide

This is an enhanced excerpt from my book, The Etsy Image Guide.*

I’m asked about image file types so often that I decided to publish this part of the book independently. Since I wrote the book in 2018, this post includes more recent information.

In this post, I go over file types: jpg, png and tif files; and compression types: lossless and lossy files.

Hang with me as I point out the basic differences of each file type, because the quality of your post, publication, book, or website depends on your knowing what file type to use, when, and where.

If you consider yourself ‘not tech savvy,’ please just pause a second, take a breath, relax a little, and pretend to enjoy reading these little definitions — I guarantee you that once you know the differences in file types, your experience using images both online and off will improve dramatically. Continue reading

How to ‘Read’ The Drawings

How many times have you looked at my tile drawings and they didn’t make sense to you? Or maybe felt so busy you didn’t look at them for long?

Here’s how to ‘read’ them.

1. Direct your eyeballs to the exact center of the square.
2. Drop your eyes vertically to the center of the bottom line.
3. Now look over to the right bottom corner,
4. And then back up to the center.

You have now traced a triangle with your eyes.

Keeping your vision within the triangle, look again, this time focusing on the elements that are there. Continue reading

Am I Really the Person I Thought I Was?

A radical twist in my self-perception happened recently….

I’m Happy to Be Me

My mother died early, at only 69. She was one of those always-takes-care-of-others-first people, so you never heard about her, as a person. I have felt cheated for almost 40 years, not having a better picture of who she really was. I didn’t want that to happen to my sons.

So I’ve been writing stories about my life. I want them to know about the person I am, the things I’ve done — the folks I’ve met all across the world, the places I’ve visited, the amazing things I’ve accomplished, even though I never thought I could.

I was surprised out of my sox when memories started to emerge about how I was raped by my trusted family dentist at the age of 13 … as well as other not-so-fun events as a teen, young adult, and older. Continue reading

Why Do Some Men Think It’s OK to Be Such A-Holes?

What can be done about it? How do we deal with it on a daily basis?

My Prismatic Heritage

I can hardly believe the things men oh-so-casually do to women. The things they have the nerve to say. Even after decades of observing and experiencing their stupidity, I’m still astounded. I’m in my late 70s, and men still grope me, FFS. For real!

Recently I read a post by fellow medium writer Susan Wheelock, in which she talks about a man in a higher position in her company saying this to her in the elevator: “You know, Red, I’ve been meaning to ask you — does the carpet match the drapes?” Continue reading


A long time ago when I lived in Santa Cruz, I had an all-black cat we named Oedipuss. I know, corny . . .


He loved being outside at night, prowling the neighborhood. In the morning, he’d hang upside down off the top of our bedroom window’s protruding casing, and reach down to scratch on the window glass to get in. Continue reading


Grab your power and dance and sing and cry and laugh and have a loud, colorful, delicious full-on life – why the hell not?

You Are My Dream

My friend commented on my post about how what I had thought would be a romantic first-time love tryst turned into a complete horrible abusive farce.

She said, “…you sure don’t do anything by halves!…”

I’ve thought about that a lot today. And I realized that I hated that idea! Because I can’t think of one good, solid reason why we should live our lives any less than full-on!

Who set up the rules that say you can’t express fully – yell and scream and cry and burst your guts with raucous witchy laughter? Continue reading

My First Time Was A Total Disaster

And I know you know what first time I’m talking about…It was freezing cold on December 6th, 1963, the night before my 18th birthday. I was on my way with my date, flying as fast as we could through the west side of NYC to his apartment. Hands tightly clasped together, our palms crackled with unspent energy. I’d bet about anything we gave off sparks to anyone who could see. Continue reading


I miss my sweet doggie so much.

Doggie Hugs

It’s been more than 20 years since I last saw her, but I think of her every day. She was the sweetest Being I ever met.

She was English sheepdog size and appearance, except she had the sweet button nose face and curly tail of a Husky.

She would raise her head and rest it on my leg until I got up from my chair, then she’d push me towards the door. We’d go outside, where she’d literally run circles around me as fast as she could.

After maybe four or five circles, she’d suddenly stop, and turning to make sure I was looking at her, race to hide under a bush.

Then I was supposed to call out to her – where arrrrre youuu?’ – pretending she’d disappeared.

She’d wait a few seconds before bursting out with a big grin on her face, HERE I AM! and run more circles.

How could anyone not love a character like that? I adored her.


© Angela Treat Lyon 2021

Does Your Partner Have the Right to Strike You?

No. Not Ever.

The Goddess of Life

I could feel my body start to contract into itself, shrinking, freezing. My head fell, my chin pressing against my chest. I vaguely noticed my feet press down and anchor themselves to the floor. I wondered if it would be a punch or a slap this time. Even if I had thought of moving out of the way, I wasn’t capable of it.

I slowly raised my eyes. I watched crimson rage creep up T’s mottled skin — up his neck, over his face, seeping up to his hairline. I was riveted, fascinated/terrified/paralyzed. Continue reading

No More Letting Baby Cry Herself Out!

I had to slowly slowly convince myself to open to receive any thoughts at all that I might be worthy, and even lovable.

My precious new babe.

In a reel I watched tonight by a gal whose name I never caught, she explains how parents used to be advised to ‘let the baby cry itself out.’ That the baby will self-soothe, and eventually go to sleep on her own.

As she spoke, I vividly remembered reading one of those baby-advice books that told you to do that** 50+ years ago, when my boys were yet babies. Because my sons now have kids of their own, I have seen that parents are still advised to do that same thing.

“Let the baby cry itself to sleep! It will self-soothe.’

The problem, this wise young woman stated, is that babies that young cannot self-soothe. Continue reading

How I Was Rescued from My Dreary Reality, Part I

There have been several times in my life when Angels boldly stepped in and picked my sorry arse up and sent me packing to other, better places. This was one of them. Her name was Cynthia, and there is no one else like her anywhere.

Going Home

My dear friend Cynthia and I met at a week-long dowsing convention in Arkansas, in May of 1996.

I was perched on the edge of my bed in a shared room with 2 other gals. We were gabbing and going over the day’s schedule, when into the room this tall whirlwind Valkyrie strides, wavy red hair tousled from stormy winds outside. Her aura of intensity was larger than life, her joy almost volcanic.

Standing by the doorway grinning wide, hands on hips, she announced full volume, “We’re going for lunch! Who’s coming?” As one, we all jumped up and shouted, “Me!” “Me!” “Me!”

She swept us up in her enormous zeal, and we, little peeping human chicks, followed her down the hall, magnetized right out the door and over to the restaurant to a table for ten. Perfect. Continue reading

Once in A Lifetime

They were jumping in and out of the water so smoothly, so fast, that it looked like a fountain of silvery sea flesh.

Mantas! Splishing and splashing all around us!

When my boys were young, we lived in Hawaii on the island of Kaua’i, in Kekaha, a tiny little sugar town. The main residents were mostly Filipinos and Puerto Ricans who worked at the big sugar mill.

They were the ones who went out in the monstrous heat — unrecognizable in their head-to-toe long sleeves, long pants, face masks and floppy hats — and cut the cane by hand using wicked sharp machetes. Continue reading

I Was Damned if I Was Going to Allow Hardship to Get Me

Nights when magical swaths of stars would span the entire ceiling above, making it seem as light as noon. Bright evening lightning shows burst through the dark evenings on the far horizon…

Let’s Go for a Walk, Mom!

Living in New Mexico in the early 1990s was one of the darkest times of my entire life. I was perpetually depressed, never once feeling like I had a single chance to make it as a sculptor, but trying my utmost to do so anyway, despite maybe having one or two sales a year.

When I first got to the ex-coal-mining town of Madrid (pron. MADrid), I stayed in an old miner’s house with my old friend, Melissa, helping her renovate it so it could be sold.

At the end of that adventure, I was told about an old empty fire-truck garage with five bays. I was able to rent the two bays on the far end from the main road for cheap. It was dank, musty, and not fit for human habitation. It stunk of mice and old dust. But I had nowhere else to go, so I made the best I could of it.

Each bay was 15’ x 40′. Huge warped doors that never closed all the way. Everything got in through them — bugs and spiders and small birds looking for a nesting home, a million mice, and rushing currents of ice-cold air. Continue reading

Our Disconnect from the Cycles of Life

We allow little mundane BS things to distract and steal our attention away from what’s important: being with and cherishing the ones we love most, caring for those who need and want our love, attention, and affection.

Cycles of Life

Lately I see so many posts on facebook by folks who have lost friends and family from covid and other illnesses, from accidents and mishaps, and sadly, self-endings.

And, some of us are getting old enough that we are beginning to fray and fade and peel away to the Rainbow Lands.

It’s devastating, shocking, when a friend or close person is suddenly just *not there* anymore. It’s as if we got slapped across our soul, an inner assault of not-there-ness. A big energetic hole where a very lively Being used to live within our heart and awareness.

In our society, we think and act as if we will live forever.

We have no real relationship to the reality of death, nor any regard for the idea of, or the force of, the plain fact that we die. Continue reading

Freezing to Death for 3000 Miles On the Back of a BMW Motorcycle

Semi trucks started edging us sideways, pushing into our lane, trying to run us off the road. Gas stations and roadside restaurants saw us coming, switched their ‘open’ signs to ‘closed’ in their windows and front doors.

Windy Winter Trees Along the Road

1966. I was 21, living in an upstairs apartment on Mason Street in North Beach, San Francisco. I was a very junior artist at a top advertising agency, being trained in The Game — designing ads, learning how to deal with reps from Skippy Peanut Butter, Foremost Dairies and other large companies.

For each order, I was given the basics of the ideas the job boss wanted, no more. I drew hundreds of sketches, did color combos, created mockups. I sat silently with my boss – not allowed, as junior, to say a word — even as they tore my work apart and demanded ‘something better.’ Continue reading

“Something Amazing Is About to Happen,” He Said…

It can be painfully hard to let go of the what-ifs and the blame/shames, he-did-it-to-me’s and the she’s-such-a … — or the what-am-I-going-to-do . . .

Imagining my reality into being

I’ve been a devoted student of metaphysics for decades. One of the most basic things I learned when I began to study the beyond-ordinary is that what you give your attention to turns up in a very real way in your life — whether it’s something you consider ‘good’ or ‘bad.’

It’s hard to remember sometimes. It’s so easy to keep worrying or complaining about something you feel helpless about, or something you don’t like.

We keep chewing on those problems. We keep ourselves confused; we tell our friends about This Awful Thing. Continue reading

Your Work Doesn’t Speak for Itself

It was only after that decision that people started seeing things through my eyes. They started comprehending the value of art – the effects of color, the harmonizing of life through good design, the pleasure a painting or sculpture could bring . . .

Loving ‘painting’ with’ my pastels

I’m a stone carver, painter, author and book designer— among other things — and I used to say, “I hate marketing!”

I thought the very idea of marketing was disgusting. I thought you had to be a sleaze-bag in order to do it. It was too hypey, something beneath me, and that it was a waste of valuable carving, painting, or writing time.

I felt ashamed and embarrassed if I talked about myself
or my artwork or books in front of people.

The old ingrained conditioning I had as a girl — little girls should be seen and not heard, and preferably not even seen — would kick in, and I’d become a stiff, mute plank. Paralyzed with terror of being punished for even being visible. And worse —

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The Tale of Frank and Lilly of Desolation Desert Valley

In a frozen stand-off, all three halted, just a few feet from each other. Like wooden soldiers, they stood silent in the middle of the street. Slowly, Frank reached up and tipped his hat, took Lilly’s hand and walked on.

Frank and Lilly

“No, Frank, don’t! He didn’t mean it!” Lilly exclaimed.

“Don’t hold me back this time, Lilly, he ain’t got no right to talk to me like that!” Frank growled, as he grabbed his drink and angrily gulped it down, wildly splashing the rich amber liquor all over his new jacket. He grunted loudly in disgust.

“Git outta my way, Lilly, it’s time I took care o’ that rude basturd!”

Frank started to slide sideways off his chair to follow the man who had had the nerve to insult him. Him! The Mayor of the community of Desolate Desert Valley! The owner of the Desolate Desert Valley Silver Mines! The owner of the Desolate Desert Valley Bank!

Lilly reached for her purse, grasping the one-shot Derringer and pressing it to his side under his silken jacket. Continue reading

How Could You Possibly Forget that Trauma?

In sessions with my clients, I’ve heard them say, “I didn’t even remember that until today! It’s been years since it happened!”

Dreaming my new life

I’ve experienced that same forgetting, myself: I was raped several times between the ages of 13 and 19 when I lived in New York City. But if you had asked me before this last year if anything at all like that had ever happened to me, I’d have emphatically said no.

How could that be — 60+ years of forgetting???

It’s so strange, isn’t it? Because once you remember the incident, it can have you on the floor in tears and shock and major upset. Continue reading


My friend Rachel had two grand-daughters, aged 2 and 4. The two-year-old, Tina, was prone to throwing some mean tantrums.

Rachel was concentrating on finishing up a 3-year back-to-college program, and found it difficult to deal with the kids’ high energy — especially the tantrums — when the girls came to visit her.

She was also going through a long, drawn-out, very challenging, extremely uncomfortable situation at her job. She adored the kids, but always felt ragged and worn out after their visits.

In my weekly Tapping sessions that I held at the local health store, Rachel learned how to use EFT/tapping, and began using it on herself at home. Little Tina watched, saying nothing.

One night, when Tina was working up to an I-don’t-want-to-go-to-bed tantrum, Rachel sat down with her and tapped on Tina’s little body, saying the phrases for her as Tina listened raptly.

(The tapping points: EFTBooks.com/the-points)

Continue reading