Never Alone

I may work as a psychic and energetic healer. I may be getting more accustomed to my mediumship abilities. But, I am repeatedly seeing how vast and intricate this place is that we find ourselves in right now. This place brings to me a feeling of awe that is unprecedented, and I feel more and more humble every single day.

I say this as my mostly stable little world got hit by a small earthquake over the last couple of days. I am reminded that things don’t stay the same. We must be flexible and go with the punches. We should, as always, acknowledge the language of the universe as it speaks to and through us every moment—but this isn’t as simple as it may sound.

I find it so much easier to communicate with spirits that haven’t crossed over. They are easier for me to feel approach, hear what they say, and amazingly, on occasion I get a glimpse of them. They often approach curious that we can interact, often wanting help to cross. Sometimes they just want to be heard, acknowledged, taken seriously. I have begun to record their stories. They are important, just as all of us in physical bodies are important. Maybe it is my embarking on a career as a counselor that has helped me be an active listener. I take every voice seriously and help them express themselves—whether they are living or dead.

But honestly, I have been taking the easy route. The universe speaks in many, many different voices and intonations. Sometimes these little nudges and whispers are so faint they are easy to dismiss as coincidence or a figment of one’s imagination. Maybe it is a fleeting thought, or a song pops into your mind. Or, maybe it is a smell. I can always tell when my granddad comes o visit as he announces himself with the smell of cigars. My grandparents don’t come visit willy nilly. They always seem to have a purpose and that purpose often revolves around my dad. The last time I smelled cigar, I had a string of encounters that could not be dismissed. I smelled the cigar, randomly, while alone in my house where no one was even there to smoke one. I then felt myself enfolded in a hug from… well… thin air… and my heart swelled, knowing it was Granddad. The next day I glanced at a photo of my grandparents hanging on the wall, and it looked like Granddad was leaning out of the frame to get my attention. Startled, I took a step back and looked at the photo again—but it was back to normal.

Contact from Beyond

That was two strange things in two days. But the next day, I could no longer brush the contact away as wishful thinking. Who wouldn’t want contact from their beloved grandfather? That day, I was walking from the parking lot at work to the employee’s entrance. I was alone in the alley, and there on the ground was a butterscotch disk candy. To anyone else this may have been inconsequential. However, to me that candy represented my earliest memories of my relationship with my granddad. He used to keep a cigar box filled with these candies behind his rocker recliner. My cousin and I would often try to sneak behind his chair and get to them. Of course, we always got caught, and he would playfully swat us on the bottom as we giggled and tried to crawl away with a candy in our mouths. So, when I saw this candy in the alley, I knew immediately that this was a message from my granddad. But—what was he trying to tell me? I said out loud, “Ok, I hear you! What is it?”

That night I got a call and found out that my dad had moved out of his house and was leaving his wife. Not exactly sure why Granddad reached out to me other than just to alert me to my father’s distress. Perhaps I should have reached out to my dad sooner than on day three of messages from Granddad.

But, as I said, it can be very easy to dismiss these messages. A friend of mine who had lost her mother and whose father was suffering with cancer, has struggled for years with these types of messages that she dismissed. She had gone to bed and woke up several times to her mother’s voice insisting she go see her dad. Her step mother reassured her that her father was fine. But still, her mother woke her. She got up early thinking to herself, “Ok, I really need to see Dad.” But it was too late. He was already gone. My friend carries this guilt around. “I should have listened.” But, how do we do that? How do we build up this trust that we are hearing true?

Communicating with Those Who Have Passed

As we discussed this experience she had, my friend asked me an important question. “Why don’t I hear from my dad? After he passed I asked him to give me a sign that he was okay. I told him to put something in the clouds. He put hearts all over the sky for about two days and that’s it.” This isn’t the first time I have heard this or experienced it firsthand. My husband and I lost a friend a couple of years ago, and immediately after his crossing he was able to tell me what it was like on the other side. I will never forget him telling me that he is so big and that he is resting in His hands now. He told me that from the other side our light makes us so beautiful. I wish I was able to see what he was describing. I would feel and see him often, heard him frequently for about a week. Now it is rare that I receive messages from him.

The same thing happened with the father of another friend of mine. I was able to help him communicate with his daughter and wife with relative ease from a month after his death, however, as time passes I am not receiving messages as often… or maybe it is that they have taken on a different form, and I am not noticing or interpreting these messages correctly. Maybe that is what it is. Maybe as spirits grow and learn after crossing, the way they communicate is less “human” and more “universal” in nature. Like their vocabulary has increased exponentially and we, as mediums, literally those who act as interpreters from one realm to another, must act more on instinct and interpretation than on logic and that easy route of recognized human interaction.

I still have a long way to go in trusting my instincts when it comes to receiving these messages. But I think I am improving—which leads back to my recent world shake up. About two weeks ago I left my bedroom and stepped into the kitchen. I felt like I had taken a trip back in time. I breathed in a lungful of the atmosphere in my grandparents’ home when I was growing up. It smelled like their house; the air felt heavy with their swamp cooler air (which I don’t have). I was halfway surprised that the light levels didn’t dim as they always kept their house dark. “My God, it feels like my grandparents’ house,” I told my husband.

Acting on Instinct

This happened several more times over the next few days and I could never figure out why it was happening. Then I received a message from my mom that a particular knick knack fell off of her shelf twice—and it has never fallen before. More and more I felt my grandparents were trying to tell us something as they had before, like Granddad and dad’s shift in residency. I sent a message to my brother saying I was worried something was wrong with our dad. He seemed somewhat skeptical. But then I got that phone call. “Your dad is in the hospital.” I knew it. I knew they were trying to give me a message. Upon investigation, it seems that the contact from my grandparents coincides with the time that my father started to become short of breath, but it took two weeks to convince him he needed serious medical attention.

What do I do beyond, “Yeah, Granny told me”? Maybe I should have called Dad instead of just messaging my brother. I knew something was wrong, but it is so hard to figure out what to do when you only have these instincts and interpretive messages to go by. But, at least he went to the hospital. At least he is safe. At least he will be going home soon.

Maybe some of the hesitation lies in the fact that sometimes people don’t like what has to be said. Or perhaps they don’t believe in the afterlife and think I am crazy. Perhaps… perhaps I am afraid to be wrong (or in this case, afraid I may be right).

If true wisdom is the understanding that you don’t know very much, then I must be pretty darn wise. Each day I learn and each day I am brought to tears at the beauty of the supportive world around us. We are never alone. We are always supported. We just have to learn to shift our perceptions, broaden our means of communication, knowing that there are messages all around us all the time.