Sunday, May 14, 2017


Ok, all you lovely, dovey post followers.

Your waiting is over!

The Sweet Creamy Stuff in the Middle: Love Above and Beyond is now available on

And at

Begin your journey into a heavenly romance and order it now.

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Back Cover Description

Thank you to the dear, anonymous soul friend who took the time to send in this lovely, accurate description of what The Sweet Creamy Stuff in the Middle: Love Above and Beyond is all about.

Available for purchase on Amazon next week!

Sandra Alexander's latest work stands alone as an elegantly written, often steamy romance, steeped in mystery, ecstasy and sacred sexuality. Love Above and Beyond offers the reader a delicious distraction--an escape into a heavenly love affair.

As if that were not enough, Alexander weaves in her own deeply personal journey, as she travels out of her physical body in order to find the man her soul longs to love. At times she questions her own sanity. But gradually, answers come and beg to be shared. What is real? What happens when we die? How thin is the curtain between worlds? What can we learn from the astral experience that we often neglect to learn during our earthly existence? 

Whether you experience The Sweet Creamy Stuff in the Middle: Love Above and Beyond as a delicious romantic journey into love, or as a spiritual exploration, the purpose of this writing is clear—to offer us a glimpse of how love is truly meant to be—and to deliver profound, poetic messages from a man who seeks and finds meaning in his own life after death. 

Monday, February 13, 2017

Love is Being There

The Sweet Creamy Stuff in the Middle: Love Above and Beyond  is nearly ready for print. In honor of Valentine's Day, I am providing a very sweet excerpt. The main idea is simple. Love means being there.

Two days in the mountain the air. The baby bear. The deer in the crosswalks. The soundless, moonless nights. It was worth waking at 2 am just to listen to the silence and commune with the missing moonlight. And I did wake. And I didn’t travel. I hoped Daniel would understand. Each night as I drifted only as far as my dreams, I whispered to him. I am with you. I will come back to you. But I didn’t invite him to join me.

Each morning as I woke in the downstairs spare bedroom in my daughter’s country log cabin, the world began to feel real again. One granddaughter and one grandson. I had been ever present in their lives since they were born. I revisited the experience in my mind. My infant granddaughter, 4 years before, lying on my chest as she slept. I got into watching foreign films with subtitles so I could keep the sound on mute and not wake her. Now, during my visit, right around 6:30 am, I would hear the soft but obvious creaking of the wooden stairs that led to my sleeping space. Soon,a tousled, flannel clad, still sleepy 4-year-old, stuffed bunnies in tow, would climb into bed with me, smelling sweet and warm, nestle her head on my chest and fall back to sleep.

I was grateful for the awareness that this was no time to be absent. Love meant being there. Present and aware—the sound of a little girl’s breathing, sighing in her sleep, the way the wisps of her hair tickled my chin. She would wake soon and we would go upstairs and join the family for a hearty breakfast. The scent of nutty dark roast and pancakes on the griddle would wake her. Every day there, away from home, away from traveling to the other place, would begin that way. And for the first time, I think, I finally experienced it fully. I had learned to savor. And just in these few days, there was so very much to savor!

Monday, January 9, 2017

Staying Real: The True Challenge

My manuscript of the Sweet Creamy Stuff in the Middle: Love Above and Beyond is nearing completion. The writing is done.The cover is designed. But let me ask your life, how hard or how easy it is to remain authentic?

I thought I had that issue pretty much under control but in the last phase of writing this book, I found myself very vulnerable and reactive to outside opinions. The title of the book, the description of what the contents really hold, came under scrutiny from the outside world. Does that happen to you, in your writing, in your work, in your relationships, in the truth of who you really are?

Some of us have spent years, not even knowing who we are anymore.,,chameleon like creatures, amazingly adept at changing our colors to match our surroundings instead of creating surroundings to match our soul's exquisite energy of love and truth.

That was my personal mission this morning. To revise the book cover and its title to match my heart's purpose and to honor the beautiful souls who have enlisted me as a devoted messenger to deliver the ecstasy, poetry and beauty through this book.

Perhaps that message stands alone today. About how each of us is showing up in any given situation. How important it is to make the shift from adjusting our environment to support us rather than losing ourselves, by fitting in.

I am excited to share this completed work with you in very short order. Stay tuned dear friends. Meanwhile, a little teaser. A poem, an excerpt from the book.


I walk yet you hear not a footstep.
No imprint that waits in the sand
I cry yet you hear not a whimper.
This being, no longer a man.

I once made a mark on the earth plane.
Chased madly the thunderous applause
Only now that my ashes are scattered
I’m not the effect, but the cause.

New power comes hard and with effort.
With a wisp of a thought, I can heal.
Though few now on this plane can see me
It’s the first time my purpose is real.

What a relief to finally get real!
Through death we find out what’s real?

                                            Daniel 2010

Thursday, October 6, 2016

Of Light and Lavender and the Memory of a Kiss

      I walked directly to the pool and sat quietly next him, putting my feet in, not asking for his attention. I had moved more into my divine feminine energy early in this process and as a result, I understood that he would let me know when and if he was ready for me. He smiled at me from the side and told me I was beautiful.

      He slipped into the water serpent-like, along the rocky side of the pool and faced me. He extended his hand in invitation. I accepted. The sheet I wore clung to my every curve now and I lay my head on his nearly hairless chest for a while. After just a few minutes, I turned to face him. I touched his throat. His neck with my fingertips.  It was strong and pure and muscular. His right hand slipped under the sheet and gently massaged my back. I could feel him, his every move, his warmth. He was more there, more physical, different from the non-physical yet palpable energy we had exchanged when he had held my hand in the library. 

      It occurred to me that I would at some point want to know how he had managed to manifest in such a fully physical way that day. On this day, he presented  himself as he had been just before he passed from the physical world. Mid to late 50’s.  Hair trimmed short on the sides and back but long enough in front for wisps of hair to fall haphazardly forward. I reached up and brushed his hair up and away from his eyes. I started to wonder if he would always come to me this clearly from now on but ceased my random thoughts and brought myself back to this exquisite moment with him, not wanting to miss feeling even one stroke of his hand on my back.

      I had only shared myself fully with 3 men in my life. Two husbands and one beautiful love affair in between. I knew that a man needed to earn a woman as much as she needed him to earn her.

      But in that pool with Daniel, I knew that he had more than earned me lifetime after lifetime.  My body temptation was to give him everything I had right there—right then. My soul knew it was too soon.

      He came closer and I fell into those eyes. I know that is a trite way to describe the sensation but right now I can think of no other way. His eyes had depth, sometimes green, sometimes hazel. On occasion, light brown. The color of his eyes seem to reflect the mood of his soul. The movement of his hand on my back slowed. Then, he asked me if he could now remind me of what we had together so long ago. His lips were close to mine now so I knew what he meant. For some reason I didn’t say yes. I said please…

      His lips were full and soft and teasing. Just barely touching mine, tickling the surface and making me hungry for more. And he did give me more, but just a little and I resisted the temptation to take more of what I wanted, knowing he would give it, but knowing too, that it would be too much too soon. It was like bathing in a new kind of light. I got a glimpse of a past mistake with him, neither one of us finding the wisdom to look away from the intensity of that light, and so we burned. That memory told me that if I accepted too much too soon, he was likely to disappear. Like a gentle bird that flies ever so close and happily takes tiny bits of bread, and comes back for more and more and more. But then you get too anxious and get too close because enough is never enough—the bird flies away and you recognize your mistake all too late.

      Even as I held myself in check, I could see what I was learning. His very presence ignited an act of patience in me—of restricting my desire to have everything I wanted all at once.
I had been stroking his throat the entire time. As his lips played with mine, I received and reciprocated, finding his rhythm and accepting it as my own. Then, a complete surprise. A surge of lavender colored sparkling light passed through our throats, back and forth. At that moment, I felt I may never utter another word. There may be no need. The sweet colored energy surged though by body downward, lingering at the heart, warm and clean, brief but powerful. He gently moved away,  before it became too much.

      As my body settled, I found us forehead to forehead, too close to perceive where I ended and he began.

      “I’ve missed you,” I whispered. I remembered him.

      “I’ve missed you, too.”

      But it was like his words fell backwards along with him, into a tunnel.

      I woke in my bed, one tear running down my right cheek. I wiped the tear away. and said,

      “Thank you.” Perhaps too late for him to hear.

      I found sleep.

      The next morning, I awoke feeling warm but afraid. I have learned not to dissect my feelings and to allow emotions to guide but not consume me. As a woman, I allow myself the fleeting feelings that come with all the colors of being a woman.

      I took out my pencil, and my no frills yellow legal pad. I saw that the pencil was in serious need of sharpening. (Why do I not just get  down to the business of sharpening, and spare myself the inconvenience of dwindling lead? Perhaps I'll look at the meaning behind that someday. Not today.) As I put dull pencil to paper, scribing his latest message, my soul calmed, knowing he had not gone for good.


She never says no, yet she takes her own time.
Her bridle of strength she wears proud.
Her gait speaks of fineness and virtue.
Her wisdom she dons like a shroud.

Each morning I rise; her love beckons.
She knows how to gambol and feel.
She’s mastered her mission. She’s wiser than me.
Her softness can show me what’s real.

Then we go riding, the world takes its leave.
Just her mane and my hair sail the wind.
Her body each moment reflects back my truth.
My guru, my master, my friend.
Daniel (2010)

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Verse After Life

I asked if I could call him Daniel. It had never been his favorite way to be addressed in life, he explained. Too biblical. But he would agree if it pleased me. It pleased me. Daniel had left his earthly body behind in 2007 at the age of 56. Prostate cancer that had spread to the bone.He saw the pain in my face as he explained and reassured me.

"It's ok, Cassie. My cancer was my vehicle. Nothing more. I had to make it to this next phase of learning somehow."

He had called me Cassie from the moment we met. He said he didn't know how he came up with that name but I didn't question it or object.

One of Daniel's deepest desires was to share with me and subsequently, with others, what it had been like for him to leave his body--to explain the soul's confusion and the unresolved earthly desires we carry with us. He accomplished this through poetry.

Every morning, after I had traveled, I would wake with a sacred poetic message swimming in my head. In short order, his words would make way to the tips of my fingers. How accurately I would write down his words would depend on my own spiritual clarity, day by day. Some days the poetry was clumsy, with a child like nature. Other days, I could bring in his grace--his brilliance. With melodic verse, I grew closer to knowing how completely we misunderstand death. With each melodic verse, also I grew closer to him.

A Soul’s Confusion

On the other side there’s a rainbow
The first thing the Soul’s Eye will see.
Will it be the same for all who go
Or was this plan in place just for me?

Next, a doorway to a learning
As chasmic as learning can be;
And when the learning is over
The soul earns its chance to be free.

My earthly life, just a memory
 A strong hold that just won’t let go.
To see and to taste and to touch just once more
A new world now I must know.

In the waters here, there’s a cleansing.
As pure as a cleansing can be.
And once the cleansing is over
The soul earns its chance to be free.

Where do I go from here?
Awake to the choices, the meanings so deep
Where do I go from here?
While you sleep, my dear one, while you sleep?

                                                               Daniel (June, 2010)

Sunday, August 28, 2016

Limbo. Purgatory. The Other Side.

What was this place, with the white house, its surroundings challenging me to reach beyond my senses? One night, I mustered the courage to ask my teacher, Edward, directly.

“Those of you living in the Earth school refer to this place by many different names. Limbo. Purgatory. The Other Side. We are not particularly fond of these. The Learning Place seems the most accurate depiction to me. Names aside, this place is the next level—the first stop, once the body is left behind, as the cyclical spirit journey continues. Know this, Sandra. There is only one reason you and some others are granted access. Travel here cannot be used for one’s amusement alone. Be diligent. Take what you learn and use the wisdom in your earthly experience for a higher purpose. Share your knowledge abundantly. And keep in your awareness, Sandra, that the portal between worlds can slam shut at any moment. So be sure, my dear Sandra, that you are where you truly desire to be, in the event that the choice to move back or forth is no longer open to you. Know that if you want to ensure your continued life in the physical world, you would be wise to stay there and not come back here. ”

I didn’t really understand everything I heard from Edward that night, but his words added urgency to my life, as I walked the Earth day-to-day and as I walked through the portal to The Learning Place at night. From that moment on, I felt afraid, at some level—all the time. And yet, I was compelled to continue my nightly travels.

But slowly, I would learn surrender. With each journey made between my earthly life and the other side, I would let go just a bit more. I would come to trust that I would end up right where I needed to be, either here or there.

And isn’t that one of the spiritual skills we most covet in this life? To develop the ability to surrender to what is with peaceful certainty, that all is as it should be?

"You will meet him on your next visit, " Edward promised me. "Come at your best. You will begin by accessing The Book of Our Lives. It is time for you both to see for yourselves how all is recorded. No thought, no action, no love, ever dies."