Last night I attended my first-ever psychic medium session.
There were about twenty-two of us in the room listening to Cathy, a psychic
medium and transformation expert, and Andy,
a clairvoyant and astrologer, introduce themselves. This session was part two of an intuitive workshop the pair
had led earlier in the afternoon.
Other than the new friends I had made in the afternoon
session, I didn’t know anyone in the room and didn’t know what to expect. I
believe that there is more to this universe than what we can see. I believe
that there is a higher power, a god if you will. I believe in the possibility
of a spirit communicating from the great beyond, and I know from experience
that it can happen. A month or so after my mom passed, she came to me in a
dream—her presence was so strong it jarred me awake and I saw her sitting at
the foot of my bed. There have been other instances too, where I’ve felt a
presence guiding me or acting on my behalf—like the time I almost fell asleep
at the wheel and felt something press my foot on the brake. It’s with this open
heart that I settled in to listen and experience this psychic session.
I was jotting down a note about evidential
mediumship when Andy first mentioned “Aunt Petunia.” I raised my head, and
he said the name again, no one else in the room flinched. That’s when I first
suspected mom was in the room. Petunia, or more specifically “my sweet Petunia”
was my pet name, what my mom would call me when I was a child.
The evening unfolded with Andy alternating between reading
someone’s past life and Cathy sharing communications from the spirits lingering
in the room to their loved ones seated around me. When a catch phrase or word struck a chord I would jot them
down in my notebook, and throughout the evening it felt as if my pen never
quite left the page. At one point, I looked down to find a quarter of the page
covered in doodles.
Doodling was something my mom would do. Preoccupied with her
thoughts while on the phone with friends or filling out the crossword puzzle,
there would inevitably be doodles in the margins of whatever piece of paper was
nearby. I hadn’t thought about that in a long time, and yet the memory is
crystal clear. A yellow and green #2 pencil, slightly worn, the hazy gray
sheets of the Daily News, Mom
drinking her coffee in a signature Morton’s Salt themed coffee cup, poring over
the clues.
“Your heart chakra is glowing a neon green,” Andy says, and
then asks me what era in time I resonate with most. “The 1940s,” I reply and it
opens a floodgate about my past life as a 1940s French film star who rallied
for the underdog and played a part in the underground resistance during WWII. I
couldn’t help but smile.
“I bet you’re a champion for your friends, too,” he
continued. Next he talked about my “benevolent energy” and the strength of my
third chakra, the center of self-esteem, and how it had been recently tested.
“Know that you cannot be pushed.” It was a reaffirmation from the hell of last
week that I can and will persevere.
Near the close of the evening, I learned that my mom had a
very strong presence in the room. Cathy wanted me to know that she had always
been around and would continue to be around, to support and guide me. Cathy
asked me if we were close and I told her yes that we were very tied to each
other both as mother/daughter and as friends. She acknowledged that it was the nurturing of the intuition
that tied us, and was at the root of our strong bond. It was surreal hearing
those words but also distinctly comforting, I could feel her presence
holistically.
Maybe I’ll get to see her in my dreams tonight, too.
