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.