BRIDGING INTUITION & SPIRIT
I never would have thought of myself, or labeled myself as someone who “works with spirit”; mostly because I have always been surrounded by clairvoyants, and psychics who can see and communicate clearly with the other realm. But then, while i was walking the beach the other evening,with the sky that peachy pink from Canada’s long sunsets, I began to wonder…
Why was I surrounded by so many gifted
Intuitive’s, Clairvoyants, Tarot Readers, Psychics and Healers anyway?
When I thought about it, I realised there are a few moments in my life I have never really talked about… And wondered - Is this what Spirit wants me to share next? ….
The anxiety at feeling so exposed made me wonder,
“Why should I share the soft underbelly of my soul?”
In a giant leap of faith and a deep commitment to work with spirit, I am choosing to not haunt myself with the question of “why”, but to jump into the uncertainty head on…
So here are a few stories on how I came to recognise my journey in life. With little intention, and a lot of trust… I hope these personal glimpses into my life serve you some how…
My First encounter
…….(sounds rather dramatic)… Well perhaps it was!?
When I was about 5 years old, my mother and I lived in this tiny bachelor flat in a small city on Vancouver island, Canada. It was hard in the late 70’s for any single woman to raise a child on her own and I remember a lot of evenings spent with babysitters while she waited tables.
We shared the living room as our bedroom, and it wasn’t until a few years later that we built a fold away bed for me in the hallway. I never thought of us as poor, because we never wanted for anything. But looking back now, I realise how much it had to do with my mum never making a ‘big deal’ about what we didn’t have; instead letting music, food and pretty things fill our home.
This one night, while I was curled up on the sofa ready for sleep, I drifted into a state I will never forget. The baby sitter was fixed in front of the TV and I was snuggled into the floral patterns of the sofa I had come to know as my bed.
Rather then sleep however, I slipped into one of the most beautiful experiences of my life…
I found myself completley weightless moving towards a circle of light bodies. I couldn’t see their details clearly but each form was like a white shadow of the other standing in a large semi circle around me.
Their were so many of them I could see them extend forever, and the ones closest to me held me and guided me closer to them. It was so quiet, and so still. I remember the clarity and sense of elation that “I was home”. I felt giddy and loving and open and like I could float away on the cloud of their lightness and their love. That I was the same lightness…
They came close to me and held me in a deep long embrace and I remember begging to stay with them. “Please let me be here”, but they told me I had to go back.
I didn’t feel abandoned from them, or angry so much; but a sense of loss was huge and I felt a deep grief. Like loosing a lover, a home, a pet… A hollowness of unconditional love pulled out from my core.
And…. then it was gone.
The weightlessness of the light was replaced by a dark hard edged reality. Everything that touched me weighed a ton…. I was back and this life felt hard and dark in comparrison.
When I reluctantly opened my eyes to my mum’s voice, I felt the haze of conflict running through my 5 year old mind. The one part not wanting to be ‘here’ and yet the other part battling against not being ‘there’. But then, I quickly realised where I was.
Somehow, I was in the hospital!
Sometime during my sleep, a babysitters worst nightmare occurred. I suffered from my first of three sever asthma attack in my life. Apparently I was grasping for air, and unable to respond to my babysitter’s voice; and so in a rightful panic, he rushed me to the hospital where I was under strict observations.
I was to stay in the ward for a few days for further testing.. However, they couldn’t find what was wrong with me, or understand what triggered the asthma.
So, I lay there eating lime jelly and whipped cream longing to go home.
The Second encounter:
I must have been around 8 when my Granddad was in hospital from his heart attach. He was a minister. Although I was never raised to believe in God, there was both a respect and separation from religion in my childhood; and I never experienced any Christian teachings from either of my parents.
I remember I got the call that Grandad was in hospital, and when I arrived and walked into his room it was filled with family. Everyone was laughing and telling jokes around his body, fussing over his comforts and loving him openly. Im convinced they believed that he would hear them in his coma state, and come out of it to join in the laughter and stories.
I curled up on the chair next to him and took his warm hand in mine. I sat there and closed my eyes and concentrated really hard on him, talking to him and asking him to come back. I remember that I closed my eyes and concentrated so hard that everyone in the room kind of disappeared for a moment.
Nothing happened though… When I opened my eyes and looked at him, he didn’t wake up… he just kept ‘sleeping’….
I loved this man. He was tall and strong and safe. He was my favourite lap to sit on and the first person who I learned what it means to love. Apparently he could be a “grouchy old fart”, but I never knew that side of him. I was always just in his arms… That’s how I remember it anyway.
A few weeks later when he was back in his home recovering with his new pace-maker, he apparently told my Grandmother a story about what he experienced when he was in hospital.
He told her that the only person he remembers coming to visit him, was me. That I took his hand and walked with him in this “space between”, and he just remembers seeing me, and having me by his side.
It would seem that sometimes spirit thins the veils between worlds for us to share our love with others. It was 18 years later, while living across the world, in a town called Alice Springs – Australia, where I met him again.
Having completed University and succesfully squashing my intuition and metaphysical practices in exchange for an attempt at academia, I found myself awkwardly sitting in a meditation group.
It was there, in the desert where my grandfather’s spirit came to me in a beautiful light body much like those of my “near death” experience I had as a child. He stood beside me and his body was exactly as I had remembered spirit to be. He shared parts of his story and how much love there was. He helped hold space around me and I found myself imagining crawling back into his arms and feeling the love that emanated from him.
Sometimes we still visit, but these visits are fewer now. I believe he has moved on… He gifted me when he reached through the veil to hold my hand as an adult, and he taught me of our connection to all things, time and spirit. He became my secret guardian, guide and teacher for many years after his death.
The Third Encounter
This third encounter that taught me to work with spirit was more a lesson on how to redirect them, and maintain strength and intention in all aspects of my own life. This experience was a lesson on how to help and protect Spirit in the spaces between life and after life.
I was in my early teens, maybe 14 years old, and for the first time in my life I had my own bedroom.
The walls were covered in magazine clippings, my single bed in the corner. It was a room with a door and a sense of privacy teenagers long for. We still didn’t have any money, as my mum and I had just moved from Canada to Australia and couldn’t afford to get our power turned on yet. So in the evenings, we sat in our tiny flat with candles to light our space, and we spent our time flipping through old magazines and dreaming about everything and nothing.
This one particular day my mum and I had been to the market where we were convinced by an artist to have my portrait sketched. It was a beautiful illustration and I found myself looking at it for hours wondering who was that person looking back at me. It didn’t look like me, and yet, it did at the same time….
I was intrigued by it and pinned it to my wall across from my bed where I stared at her eyes for hours in the dim street light wondering about her story.
Who was she?
That night I fell to sleep with the far off lull of the surf.
….. But then came the lesson
I woke suddenly… My body became increasingly cold, from my feet towards my neck. Their was a weight so icy and so penetrating that I felt paralysed in my bed, unable to move.
I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t make a sound, and I found myself grasping for breath as a tightening started around my neck. I was paralysed with fear and with a sensation I had never experienced in my life. I felt pinned to the bed by an invisible wieght.
I found myself fearing that if I didn’t call out, I might never move again…
And so, more with my mind then with my voice I whispered out for my mum. Calling her through the walls, through the door…. Grasping for breath and calling for help.
And she heard me. Although she later said it was that she felt me.
When she saw my pale face and frozen body she transformed into what seemed like a wild tiger… and looking around the room pulled the picture from the wall and tore it to pieces.
She then started clapping her hands, glancing around the room as if she were looking for someone, and commanded the spirit to move towards the light.
Within a few seconds the room shifted as she guided the entity toward a light that seemed to open from the corner of my room (or was it my imagination?).
What ever she did, in her wild maternal state, the energy shifted in the room and the tropical heat of Australia returned to my body.
I was shell shocked.
What happened? What did I just experience? How did my mum know how to do that?
My body became warmer and her expression softened as she looked at me with a rather practical expression and explained to me that, “the painting must have been a portal” and that “spirit was called through by mistake from another time”.
She continued to teach me, “We must always know how to protect ourselves and help lost sprits find their way back to the light. They get caught sometimes and don’t know where they are, and we need to be able to help them, because they are often just really confused and scared.”
We never spoke about it again. We never spoke about spirits, or past lives or how she learned to do what she did. We had never spoken about intuition or about communicating with other entities before, and we weren’t going to speak about them again; she didn’t like to talk about it… and so we never did.
My lesson was over.
It was as if i’d broken her favourite vase and the discussion was closed.
I wasn’t scared so much by what happned, but my curiosity wasn’t satisfied either.
…. And so from that sweet age of 14, my world opened to the metaphysical. I spent my spare time looking for answers, discovering astrology, meditation, clairvoyants and meeting the teachers
I still value in my life.
Most importantly I learned the value in protection and clearing as a human sharing this world with all kinds of entities. I learned to accept that our world is truly complicated beyond that what we see. It would seem that all of these experiences are available, and it is our perception and our wisdom that keeps our worlds separate and apart.
I learned that we are forever able to exercise free will and choice as a way to protect, serve and love all of those that come our way.
So I guess, I may not be working and playing with spirit as my psychic friends and teachers do, but I feel Spirit is a part of my life and our relationship grows daily. I am blessed to be able to share my world with them, thinning the veil when needed and sharing the lessons I’ve learned along the way, to inspire and teach those that I meet…
And so it is with gratitude, grace and a humble sense of self… I have shared my soft underbelly, telling stories of my life, I have hardly told before…