I recently spent a lovely Sunday mulling around Covent Garden with my girl tribe (fellow spiritual mediums, cavern of witches, not normal and highly interesting weirdos – basically we all get each other) going from Spiritual Shop to Spiritual Shop, buying crystals, tarot cards, sage smudges, dream catchers and just about anything else we could get our hands-on, it was total bliss.
After lunch, my friend Emma suggested we try out the old lady who has a tarot stall on Covent Garden market, she has been there for like – EVER and she is older than time itself. She will pull you a couple of cards for a couple of quid……as a fellow tarot reader myself, I decided I wanted to give this lady a go.
The line of people waiting for her was long (a good sign) and this gave me a chance to prepare myself. Because this little lady’s energy scared the crap out of me. She was about the size of my little finger but her aura didn’t match her size……pretty much chain smoking every time she got up to let the sitter shuffle the cards, she made no bones about telling people in the queue to back the hell off away from where she was sitting so that energies did not mix.
When it was my turn, I told her that I wanted a full reading for £20, in my opinion, a good reading is deserving of that kind of money, even if it lasts 15 minutes.
She gave me the cards to shuffle and I felt slightly sick as I did, they felt disgusting, I made a mental note to wash my hands immediately after touching those cards, all the tourists that had handled them that day, not to mention the years gone by was pretty grim to say the least.
“Who is John?” she barked at me, as I looked at every line on her old and wrinkly face, each indentation a crevice full of her rich history, she had been doing this job a long, long time.
“I have no idea, but he comes up all the time, mediums are always telling me about John, but I don’t have a grandad or an uncle or a friend or anyone called John, so the mystery remains”.
She let the name go until after my reading (which was pretty good to be fair – not the best, but not the worst either).
After I sat down on some steps to wait for my friend to have her reading, the old lady got up and walked up to me. I felt very nervous all the sudden, what was she doing? I hadn’t seen her do this to anyone else……..
“They told me that John is your guide. Apparently, it’s obvious, so there you go, take that, he is your guide” and with that, she was gone and went back to my friend sitting patiently waiting for her.
Hmmmm…..John? I thought Blue was my guide? He is the one that I’ve seen a couple of times in my dreams and the one that a medium validated for me years later, I see the blue energy light in my aura when I close my eyes and other intuitives have seen this blue light around me too……I wasn’t sure about this John but decided to take it anyway, perhaps he was a different type of guide. Maybe I needed some more validation? I asked for it from him, in my head, then continued on with my day.
The next day, on Monday, I was sitting in my living room when my little girl, who is seven, shouted out to me: “Mum, what’s our postman called?”.
How random, I thought. What made her ask that? It was after school, she was sitting there colouring in……why did she want to know his name?
“It’s John” I shouted back. “John the messenger!” she shouted back. Oh my god……
I quickly googled “John The Baptist” (the only John that I and my friend Helen could think of that had a spritual connection and was, well, dead). This is what I found, apparently John the Baptist is an ascended master:
He works on the blue light energy ray, focusing on meditation. He is here to help us align our divine mind, sacred heart, and soul – for it is aligning these three that welcome into balance for meditation.
Is my spirit team trying to tell me that I really need to take meditation seriously now? I have a feeling that they are………………I keep getting hints, let’s put it that way. So now I have decided that it’s time to start practicing what I preach and putting things into action. Watch this space!
Hmm…an interesting question. Do we ever stop and think about how we make others feel? Do we ever think about our words spoken, our actions taken to analyze how that could impact on someone’s feelings or how their experience felt with us? See I would like to believe that I leave people feeling happy, that’s what I like to give off, a bit of sunshine, a smile, a feeling of positivity, even when I feel like crap.
There is one place that I’ve frequented over the last couple of years that has left me feeling utterly miserable as I drive home, because of the experience I have received from my fellow human beings. This is a rant post and if I inadvertently stereotype a whole group of people, apologies in advance, but I feel I have earnt the right to be annoyed. This is also an example of how negative energy “hangs” in an environment, that if the “leader” or “manager” of an establishment is a negative badass, then the low vibes will ripple through to all the other people breathing in the dark forces.
Who is this group of people? They are a horse-riding club that my little girl likes to visit so she can groom the horses and have a ride on her favorite animal. In my opinion, the horse-riding world can be like a club, a club for the wealthy, country folk who grow up with naturally tanned faces and big old houses that are messier inside than outside (see I’m stereotyping, stop reading now if this offends you). I’m stereotyping them as much as they stereotype me. You see, from the moment your car pulls up in the stable car park you are already met with the invisible wall of wealth, the bubble that keeps you on the outside and the club on the inside.
On my first meeting with these people, it was for my daughters Pony Club morning during the summer school holidays. Alas, it appeared that I was the illiterate council estate mum that didn’t read the small print…..I forgot to pack a drink for her, my ignorant self just assuming that for the price of 2 hours riding, water may have been thrown in for free. I was quite formally informed during pick up time that in the school holidays, little children get thirsty. I was so grateful for this piece of parenting advice and was left feeling astonished that my child had managed to get to six years old without, in fact, me killing her.
On the second pony morning, we turned up and it was raining: hard. Again, the crap mum (i.e. moi) forgot to pack waterproofs! It was a rushed morning and to be fair it didn’t start to rain until halfway through our 30-minute journey there (I didn’t check the forecast: schoolboy error). When I asked if the children would ride inside today, due to the rain, I was duly informed that “horse riding is an outdoor sport”. Oh. My. God. I mean, they say you learn something every day but hell, this is like discovering the meaning of life. Horse riding is an outdoor sport? Who knew?
After these encounters, I promised myself that I would take my daughter to another stable, that hopefully not all horsey people are like this? Unfortunately, I broke my own promise and booked her into another session this summer, the one I have just returned from.
If I thought my first two encounters were bad, this morning’s experience had a cherry on top.
When we first arrived, after getting the attention of one of the younger girls (I am invisible there for some reason, perhaps if I remove all my make-up, rough the old hair up a little, polish my accent, trot around like I own the god damn place they might see me). I know we stand out. Little girls running around with proper riding hats and their little horsewhips, jodhpurs and body warmers…..whilst my little girl is wearing her snow boots that she also wears to ride on the back of her daddy’s motorbike (could you imagine if they KNEW?).
Finally, once they see me, once I speak up because let’s face it, no one is asking me if they can help me, the girl says “oh here you are, on the bottom of the list” that would have been just a factual statement if it wasn’t for her tone.
I drop off my daughter, go for a coffee and two hours later I am there to pick her up. As I watch her trotting around the paddock, she looks so happy that I decide to book her in for next week too, seeing as I am there, I might as well do it at the desk save doing it online……oh my god, if I had known what was waiting for me, I would have just grabbed her and ran for the hills.
If I had thought that the stable girl’s attitude was bad, God was waiting to present me with: the stable manager. I have met some pretty crabby humans in my time but this person, well she stole the crown in how not to make friends and influence people.
As I stood in the little office, again, trying to make eye contact with someone, it happened to be her that looked at me first, after five minutes. This is how it went:
Me: “Can I book my little girl in for next week’s pony day please, next Thursday” (always polite: always!).
Beastie: “sigh”. “Yes, I can do that” she turns and walks to the calendar. I’m wondering if I may have just offended her in some way that I am not aware of?
Beastie: “What date next week?”
Me: “It’s the Thursday”
Beastie: “I KNOW it’s Thursday, what’s the DATE?”. Oh my…..she has the calendar in front of her and she expects me to have some form of i-phone calendar system going on in my mind’s eye? As I mentally try to calculate the date in 7 days’ time, she manages to flip the page and says: “The 15thAugust”
Me: “No, it’s the 8thAugust”
Another exasperated sigh follows. I mean I have exasperated her already, and we only just got started on this exchange.
Beastie: “What’s her name?”
Pause, massive sigh, she shrugs her shoulders and says under her breath but oh so loud enough for me to hear “oh my god. How am I supposed to spell that?”.
Yes, in a heartbeat she just made me question my daughters entire existence with respect to her birth name, it’s like with all the names we leafed through before she was born was leading up to this moment, except that her name has always been received so well, no-one has ever sighed at her name. It was this comment that tipped the balance when it comes to nice Tanya. She was poking my demon god damn it. I really wanted to tell her to stick a ruler up her arse and storm out. But I didn’t.
Me, ever the professional, decided to spell out my daughter’s name, but with a tone of voice that actually scared me.
She knew. At that moment, she knew I was pissed off. So she relaxed her tone a little. For that bit anyway.
Next came payment. When she established that I would be paying by card and not cash, anyone would have thought that I just asked her to pay for the £28 two-hour lesson.
“You should try to pay me in cash whenever possible!” she said as she scribbled something with a pencil on an envelope.
“You see” she continued, grabbing at the card reader “I am a business, and when you pay by card I get merchant fees and I lose money!”.
No shit. Can you imagine if I told her I also run my own business and know all about this kind of stuff? That’s right – I can read and write too! Oh, the lark.
“Well, the fact you are paying by card means I didn’t even need to write this all down and use up and WASTE this pencil lead!” was the closing line. I swear that happened, this all happened. She accused me of wasting her pencil lead because she wrote something down and didn’t need to.
As I walked away from this woman I screamed at myself for giving her another penny of our hard-earned cash. Ariane was completely oblivious to this all. She was treated very well with her riding group. Quite the contrast to how I was treated.
I wondered if that stable manager had any idea how she just made me feel. How my lasting experience of our encounter would be. She probably thought nothing of it. She probably talks to everyone like this, that I am a soft “non-horsey” person who is over sensitive and needs to man up some. But was there any need?
On reflection, I know that any person that is that rude to others on first meeting them are painfully lonely inside. She must be going through hell if she thinks it’s ok to treat others like that, to have the BALLS to treat others like that, she must be in pain. It’s a life she chooses. And I choose this one. To make others feel good, to spread a little joy and make sure that it doesn’t matter how bad my day is going, that I am never going to join people like her down on the low vibes because that’s the thing. It doesn’t matter how much money you have, what elite club you belong too, if you are a bad person, that energy never lies. You will be stuck down in your negative vibration until you rise up and start spreading a bit of sunshine.
The emphasis on this week’s blog post is all about going your own way, taking a path less traveled by others and one that is uniquely walked by you and you alone. What does that mean exactly? I want to give you an example of how that sentence reflects on me in my life right now and how it links onward into my own spiritual journey.
As my regular readers will know, I’ve had psychic ability since a child and many messages and experiences from the spirit world. When I reached my mid-thirties, I decided it was time to join a development circle in order for me to learn the language of spirit, the techniques, to hone a skill set that will allow me to properly connect to people that have passed on and ultimately provide fantastic evidence to those that are still here, having a human life.
My journey has been hard. I have had moments of what I will term as brilliance (my own judgment, I am not comparing my mediumship with anyone) where I have felt how someone died, given unusual names, seen strange skin conditions, given a poignant message that has changed the sitters views and belief on what happens after you die. I have also had moments of complete embarrassment. Where I have literally felt like I have made up a load of scenes and people in my mind and the sitter has looked at me like I am crazy. There are many times when I just want to give up. I’ve had nights sat in a circle, going home literally walking on air and others where I am so ready to throw the towel in.
I have internally shouted and screamed at my spirit team, my guides Blue and Silver, my maternal nan, who are all on my team and sometimes come in so strong and other times leave me hanging. Why can’t I see clearly? Why don’t’ I hear the spirit outside of my head like some mediums do? What do I need to do to make this clearer, because one thing is for sure, there is no way, no way, that I am going to sit down in front of a grieving parent and give them a reading from their deceased child that is less than perfect. I wouldn’t’ want to do that to them. It’s a responsibility of gigantic quantities and I have made it clear to spirit that this is all or nothing, no half measures. But the half measures keep coming and then they give me gold dust, just enough to keep me going that little bit longer.
I recently joined a new circle, focusing on platform mediumship (where you go to public demonstrations in front on an audience of sitters). After a brilliant first night, the second was very bad. As I was sitting there, after my turn had been and gone, I thought about my journey.
When I read tarot cards, I read well. The good readings are plenty, the average to bad ones, few. I thought about how I learned the tarot and to improve my physic skills. I started by myself. I learnt what the cards meant by reading it in a book. I practiced, I read, I researched. I had an invisible school of teachers surrounding me, my own private education. Spirit gave me the right people and contacts, ones that are so like me that we feel we may have been joined in another life too. Spirit took care of the journey, as long as I was there to listen, to go for it, to learn.
So why should mediumship be any different? It was sitting there last night and it dawned on me. I don’t need to sit in the circle. I am not saying it is the wrong thing, but for me at this time, it is not the right thing. And platform mediumship, that isn’t for me either. I need to be one to one. I need to be just me and my sitter, just us, no one else. I also need to trust that spirit will teach me the way now, now that I know the basics. I know my mediumship is unique to me, I can’t learn it from a textbook.
When I started Reiki, at the very beginning, I put my hands over the person and I put out the intent to heal. Then something started to happen. I started to see and feel things about that person. My spirit team was dropping it in, they were teaching me the art of psychic work, where there was no pressure to perform. This is my best classroom because I have never been good under pressure. I feel that this is what spirit wants for me again, no pressure, just private tuition from the best team out there, my guides, spirit family and higher self.
So decision made, I stepped out of the circle and I have decided to take a leap of faith and follow my own path on this. I know it’s the right one and I look forward to the journey ahead.
I have just come back from a wonderful two-day writer retreat in the heart of the Devonshire countryside, a stunning, quirky thatched cottage in a tiny village called SheepWash.
I traveled with my friend Clare, a fellow writer and person I have known since we were thirteen years old. Combating slow road works and some heavy rain, the journey there didn’t feel like five hours as we laughed so much and had an airy feeling of excited anticipation of what was to come.
We weren’t disappointed. The retreat is owned by a lady called Debbie Flint (a QVC TV presenter, she had an array of QVC products all over the cottage, which I recognized immediately due to my mothers-in-law insatiable buying habit from that TV channel!). Unfortunately, Debbie was away that weekend and we were left in the very capable hands of Linda (not unfortunate), who cooks, cleans and is seriously the hostess with the mostess and is clearly the heart of the home. Linda was such a vibrant character, I felt like she had been paid to act out her role as half Mrs. Doyle from Father Ted and half Mrs. Goggins from Postman Pat (the village certainly reminded me of Greendale).
She had more stories to tell than were published in the large oak book cabinet in the dining area and a way with words that I found hilarious, endearing and so genuinely real. She had grown up the area and her life was in the bubble of SheepWash and it made me realise that sometimes, being detached from the busyness of city or town life, bad news and fast careers, tube lines and people chaos is actually damn well idyllic. But is it for me? Maybe one day, but not for now.
The cottage, thatched, wonky and romantic was the ideal setting for me to write and finish the first draft of my fictional novel about the afterlife. There were nooks and crannies where you go and write or read, desks placed in different rooms, outside and in, and between hearing Linda hoover or call “Coooo Eeeeee” to a neighbor whilst passing a homegrown cucumber over the cottage fence I absolute escaped into my story.
What made this weekend was not only Linda but it was the wonderful group of ladies (and one man!) who joined us, all at different stages of our writing journey and no judgment or ego with that, it was refreshing! I’ve been in the mediumship scene for a while now and it is full of who can be better, who has more work, who is well known, blah blah blah. Not here. Everyone was encouraging, inspiring, motivating, they wanted each other to do well and shared a genuine interest in each other’s work. Those that are published or self-published shared advice and tips, we talked about the books we read, the ones we hated, the ones that changed our lives. I came back with a new reading list which excites me to the core!
Going on the retreat made me realise about the purpose and importance of doing things yourself, stepping away from wife and mother, finding your identity, finding a new tribe. Being in a place built for creativity, that oozes inspiration left, right and center. When you are vibrating with those that get you, that is where it is at!
So, find a retreat, be it a silent one, yoga, meditation, or chess-playing, find one that floats your boat and go. Those two days will feel like two weeks and you will learn so much about yourself in the process that I would say everybody should go to at least once a year!
The best part was laughing with my friend Clare, we traveled Thelma and Louise style, just us two, on a mission to enjoy ourselves and achieve some personal goals, which we did, in two days! I would never have gone if it wasn’t for Clare telling me about it and I am so grateful for that. I think it may be a yearly treat…….
It was recently the 7thof July, fourteen years since the terrorist attacks in London City. Whenever the anniversary comes around, I can’t help but remember that day, what I saw and felt and it was one of the moments that you never forget where you were.
It felt similar to 9/11, although the difference is that during 9/11 I was at home watching the atrocities unfold on my TV screen. I had a dream two weeks before 9/11, that I was in a large city with my mum and buildings were falling down all around us, we were hiding, masses of people were running, covered in dust. The dust was so thick that I struggled to find my mum, but when I did, we held hands and ran and ran and ran through the streets. When I watched what unfolded in New York on that fateful day, I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had seen this all before, in my dreams.
My anxiety skyrocketed after what happened in the USA. I knew, I just knew that our time would come too. I was working in London City at the time of 9/11, in one of the tallest buildings at the time and after what happened, everywhere was on high alert. But it was a further four years between attacks. In those four years, I was issued with a hard hat and a dust mask, just in case. I also carried my trainers in my rucksack, I figured if I needed to run home, I could run fifty miles (like Forest Gump right?). I can’t tell you how many trains I left due to a suspicious-looking person. As I say, my anxiety was sky high, I felt a sense of anticipation for months. But I dreamt of nothing, nothing at all to tell me about this particular, forthcoming attack on London.
The day it happened; I went into work late because I had a dentist appointment. When I stepped off the train at London Liverpool Street, it was deathly quiet, I didn’t see a single person in the station. The barriers were all up. I stood and looked at the barriers. Something isn’t right. I can’t tell you how I knew, but I felt something in the air. The energy was different. Something had happened, but I didn’t know what.
As I went up to the escalators and outside of the station, I couldn’t see one car. Still feeling strange, I walked along the street then I noticed a large group of very dazed and confused looking commuters walking toward me. One man stood out more than most. His eyes looked haunted. He had white power all over him, blood on his face and suit. Others followed, powdered, bloody, haunted. “It’s a film, they have closed the road for a film!” I thought, a little excited that I had stumbled upon this. Then my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was my friend, Lorna, sending a group message to all us girls who work in London.
“Get in your building now, we are under attack” was her message. I text back, what? “A bomb has just gone off outside my office, in a London bus. Get off the street!”.
My pace quickened. It was happening, it was now. I called my boyfriend, who was working with a gang of guys out on a job in the countryside. He tried to reassure me when I told him that I had just seen some people that were all bloody and I think it’s a bomb “it’s just a gas explosion” he said, I said he was wrong.
When I got into my office we were on lockdown. Under no circumstances were we to leave the building at all. I was acutely aware of my position in London, I suddenly had flashbacks of what my building looked like on a video I was shown after it was hit by the IRA bomb in the late eighties, my floor, floor number four, completely obliterated.
I worked in Procurement in those days and suddenly our department was the most important department in the entire company (all two of us) – the Directors needed every employee to have a hotel stay in London, the Police had said that no one comes into London and no one leaves. The task of procuring hotel rooms was pointless, they had all gone.
Lunch was brought in, again, we were told not to leave. I looked at my office and then the carpet, would I be spending the night here? I was quickly reminded that people had died today, innocent commuters just like me, I should be grateful I was still alive.
As lunchtime almost ended, my friend text me “I’ve managed to get a lift out of London, meet met at Bank Station in half an hour, red butchers van, we have space for 2 more”.
I didn’t need to be asked twice, I changed my heels for trainers and told my boss I was leaving London, he didn’t try to stop me, even if it was against the rules.
As I walked the ten minutes or so to Bank Station, I couldn’t believe the empty streets. With no cars on the road, London is a very different place. It was like I was walking in a photograph.
I saw the red butchers van and my friend and jumped in. Surrounded by frozen meat, we left the confines of London in disbelief.
As we pulled onto the motorway, I could see lines of traffic trying to get in and then a sign saying “London Lock Down” that normally gives the traffic updates – no one was getting anywhere fast.
That night I reflected on what had happened. I couldn’t believe that I saw what I did, that all the time, all those years I had anticipated this, that it happened. I felt relief, sadness and that things were different now.
Since 7/7 I’ve had many predictive dreams about terrorist attacks. I’m not sure why I didn’t this time around. Perhaps I was too close, I don’t know.
What I have learned from the experience is that energy never lies, the moment I got off the train that morning I knew, I could feel something in the air.
I want to dedicate this blog post to every innocent person who lost their lives that day, who were injured, to their friends and families.
Every now and again I connect to my deceased nan via an angel board (a fancy name for a Ouija board). As soon as I finished typing that sentence, I could almost hear a portion of this blog readership take a quiet inward gasp at the very mention of a Ouija board. It gets such a bad rep! I remember my dad telling me a story of his brother sitting on the board as a kid and then a phantom hand grabbing around his neck and pulling him backward off his seat…..”You must never dabble with the devil Tanya!” was the forewarning, little did he know that I had a direct line to the afterlife anyways so really that advice was futile.
And Devil? Please.
So the board is used like any other deviation tool, tarot cards, pendulum, my hands……of course, you do have to take care, i.e. always have a trained medium present and ensure you test out which spirit has come forth (we do have Randoms on an occasion, however nothing too sinister I can assure you). In all my years of being an active medium I have never encountered the dark side of the afterlife (I’m not saying that it doesn’t exist, but I only attract those on my vibration, which is pretty broad however it is nowhere close to the depths of some really dark stuff, so we are safe). The only time that I had some scary encounters was in my childhood home but that was probably due to all the frightened and confused energy I was emanating during my teen years, I guess they had to get my attention somehow.
So, the point of this blog post is to tell you about the message from nan. She gives some good predictions via the board; she predicted my sister’s forthcoming wedding and the month it would fall in before my sister even talked about booking a wedding. She told me my cousins were in the USA when I had absolutely no idea of this fact until I checked after. She always tells me about my mediumship and spiritual journey and the business that I have and that I “must stay focused”.
I know what she is saying here. I have many dreams, well, I have one dream which is the glue for all the others to follow and I guess it’s like a Blue Print that I have been working toward since I was awakened and realized at the age of about nineteen that we are all here for the purpose of lessons, learning, and to create. I have known what I will be doing and so far so good, but the process is long. I use a mix of divine guidance, my own ideas, and thoughts, an image of how things will look like once I have achieved my dream to help focus me to bring it in.
Life gets in the way constantly. Health, commitments and responsibilities, outside influences and environmental factors…….but these are things we have to accept as part of the human condition and they must only be stopgaps along our journey until we get back into the car on our road trip.
I believe we all have a dream, it doesn’t’ have to be big in any sense of the word, it doesn’t have to be too personal, it can be to help someone else reach their dream. It could be to achieve a life free from drama and to establish an equilibrium that currently seems too distant to even contemplate. But we all have one.
The point of today’s post is to say to anyone that is striving for something that they feel right now may be out of their reach is to “stay focused”. It is not out of your reach. Everything that currently sits in your environment right now is a product of your imagination, ambition, and goals. Even if you don’t agree with that statement, you need to rethink it. If you feel your situation is out of your control, yes, some external factors would have been, but your attitude, how you chose to respond, that is where it is at and that is where we start to change it.
The impossible is only impossible if you say so. The Universe will support you, it is true. I do this constantly, I have the idea, I ask the Universe to support me and it jolly well does. It gives me the opportunities and I then take those, that lead me a little further along the stepping stones that are leading me to my goal, to my dream. How will you know when you have got there? I do ponder this very question at times. I say that I will know when I have a certain feeling, a feeling yet experienced, a feeling so new yet so familiar and so knowing that I will know, and so will you. Just stay focused.
I have always wondered what happens to an unborn child, baby or child when they cross over from this life into the next. Or anyone really who passes on, do they stop growing at that point? I do have a theory of what happens, based on my own understanding from my spirit guide Blue and from what I have experienced during my mediumship.
I believe that ever spirit is joined to their own higher self, their own energy powerhouse which is connected to the source (source of all that is, all that was and all that will be) and this is called the Soul. Off the Soul are many strings of consciousness, many spirits living separate but simultaneous lives, on Earth as well as in other Universes.
You are living in this consciousness right now, your spirit is who you are at this moment in time but you are always connected to your Soul. When you die, your consciousness will leave this vibration and enter into the Astral Realm, a consciousness that vibrates a lot faster than on Earth, you go back to the Astral which is a continuation of your spirit which will always be connected to your Soul and the Source.
When our spirit takes its human form here on Earth, we age in our physical body. We also age as an individual, a person, a spirit. That is our learning experience which our Soul wants us to have. As we know, human beings die at any age during their human lifetime. On Earth, as we age, we are restricted to a time sequence. We have human measurements which are influenced by natural law to make our sequences, years, months, days, hours, minutes and seconds. There is always a past, present, and future. This makes sense in our physical body, it must do, the psychical body isn’t vibrating fast enough to be able to not have this time sequence to follow.
But when the physical body dies and the spirit is released, it has its energetic, ethereal body which particles are spinning at a much faster rate. There is no time in a sequence. What there is are a series of moments, of intensities of experiences, which can seem like they are going backward and forwards but are in fact always in the moment. So, a spirit can be any age and can certainly “grow up” once it is back on home ground.
I want to share with you a recent experience that helps to affirm my belief in this:
I was practicing Reiki Healing on a new client and I had my hands over her eyes and was enjoying the beautiful healing energy. As I looked down at her face, I suddenly became aware that she looked remarkably like my older sister. It was uncanny like my mind was playing a trick on me as I felt like it was my sister laying there in front of me. As I was thinking this, I suddenly felt the sister love you get for a sibling. I knew then that a spirit was present and trying to make an impression on my feelings, I knew that this lady had lost a sibling.
Just as I thought that there was a man standing close by, smiling at both me and his sister. He told me he was 34 years old. Then just like that, he vanished.
After the treatment, as my client was drinking her water, I decided to broach the subject. She was a new client and I wasn’t sure how she would receive this type of information!
I asked her if she lost a sibling, a brother around mid-thirties? She said no she hadn’t, could it be someone else? I shook my head as I was convinced this was a sibling connection. As I thought about it, suddenly her face changed, and her eyes filled up with water.
“My mum lost a baby, a boy, between me and my oldest sister being born,” she said, as the realisation hit her.
“How old would he have been now?” I asked, astonished.
“About 34,” she said.
So there you have it, that was my evidence that spirit does, in fact, grow up on the other side. I think that’s pretty wonderful!