My Life As a Medium (17 page)

I was now in my ninth year as a medium, and still experiencing a wide range of phenomena every day – although, much to my delight, the smell of ether had disappeared. The variety was endless, and the picture-shows that were projected on to my bedroom walls were a constant entertainment. One night I saw a group of uniformed men. I thought at first they were policemen but as they had their backs to me I could not be sure. No matter how long I thought about it, the reason for this particular scene eluded me.

Then one day, two plain-clothes policemen visited me and asked if they could speak to me. As I was busy, I suggested that they return in the evening. I had no idea what they wanted, but it kept me guessing all day.

When they returned, one of them introduced himself as an inspector, and told me that they had found my name and address in the diary of one of my young patients. She had been brutally murdered. I was mortified, especially as I had told her on her last visit that
she must be careful. He asked me if I would help by using my gifts of mediumship; I agreed to do this, and for thirty minutes, I was able to give him specific details about the murder and the perpetrator. He appeared to be delighted with the information, and handed me a parcel, suggesting that I might receive further details from the contact, as it contained the victim’s clothes. From these I was able to give a clear picture of her last moments and these were to leave a lasting impression on my psyche.

That same evening I saw a police car stop outside the house, and it stayed there for about fifteen minutes.

The inspector called again the next day and told me that he had asked his men to keep an eye on me, as I could be in danger. That really cheered me up! He also asked whether I would mind visiting a police artist with him.

‘You’ll like him,’ he said. ‘And it will be interesting to see how successful you are working together.’

I told him I would be happy to do so, and he called for me the following day.

There was an immediate rapport between the artist and myself, and I fell in love with his work. I felt that it would be a privilege to work with him. To begin with, he asked me to sit on a chair facing the easel, on which he had pinned a blank piece of white paper, explaining that he sketched with a charcoal pencil. Within a few minutes we were working together. I closed my eyes and was able to easily conjure up the face of the murderer, which had haunted me from
the first time I had seen him. When I finished with my description I opened my eyes and there, facing me, was his exact image. I could not believe it! The artist was a genius. It was obvious to everyone that there had been an incredible telepathy between us; there were so many tiny details that I had not thought important enough to pass on, and yet there they were in the picture.

Needless to say, the inspector was delighted, and on the way back home asked me if I would help in other murder cases. I agreed, because I had found the whole process fascinating, but would later regret this decision.

On one occasion I was given a parcel of clothes belonging to the victim, and as I handled it I clearly heard the sound of a gun being fired. I turned to the inspector and said, ‘This man was shot through the right side of his neck.’ He confirmed this. ‘He was also shot through the side,’ I continued, ‘because I can see a bullet hole by the side of his kidney.’

He looked at me in amazement, and said, ‘You’re spot on. We didn’t know it was there until his clothes were removed.’

‘But it made a hole in his jumper,’ I protested.

He smiled, and said, ‘I know! But it was so small we didn’t see it. We must bring you in on these cases much earlier.’ He was obviously pulling my leg!

Again, I was astonished by the clarity of the pictures I was receiving. I saw the victim walking to the front door of his home, and then I heard a shout, the victim turned around, and it was at that moment that he
was shot. I saw a man running down an alley and disappearing into a cobbled yard, very similar to those seen in old stableyards, and then saw huge wooden gates being slammed shut. What I did not get was an image of the man as he ran away, although from the back view I could see that he was wearing a raincoat and appeared to be quite stocky.

After a while, I found that the images of the victims were taking over my life, and because the vibrations were affecting my healing, I decided to stop working on murder cases. I’m sure my spirit team were in agreement, because when the terrorist squad turned up on my doorstep asking if I could help with the Harrods bombing, my mind went black and I was no use to them whatsoever.

Two years later I moved to Sussex, and on the second day in my new home I saw a policeman walking up the garden path. My heart sank, and I thought, ‘Oh no, not again.’ When I opened the door, he asked me whether I had seen anyone hanging around as there had been several cases of arson. ‘In fact,’ he said, ‘the barn across the field has just been set alight.’ We looked out of the window, and saw a huge plume of smoke wafting across the Downs.

Without thinking, I said, ‘I think you will find that it’s a group of children, probably no more than eleven or twelve.’ As soon as I spoke I could have kicked myself.

‘That’s an odd thing for you to say,’ he said, looking at me with a puzzled expression on his face.

Rather than have him think that I was peculiar, I told him that I had worked with the police before. His expression gave nothing away, but I could feel from his vibes that he thought I was a bit odd. He probably wondered what he had done wrong in his life that he should have me suddenly arrive in his patch!

About three weeks later he knocked at my door again. ‘I’ve come to tell you,’ he said, ‘that we caught the arsonists setting light to a garage. Their ages ranged from eleven to thirteen.’ He smiled. ‘Just thought you’d like to know.’

We worked on several cases together, but my heart was not in it, and I felt increasingly ill at ease. I was pleased when this work petered out.

I did help out in a particularly brutal double murder, giving a policeman some vital evidence, but he did not mention my name during the enquiries, for which I was thankful. Two years later my evidence was found to be correct.

Although I would never go down that avenue again, I was grateful for the experience, and it later proved an enormous help when I found myself dealing with victims of physical and mental abuse.

One such case was Glenda, a very attractive woman in her thirties who had made an appointment with me for healing. Whilst I was healing her I saw funnels of energy emanating from her body, and when I placed my hands over them the heat was incredible. This told me that there
was a considerable amount of inflammation there, and I questioned her about it.

‘I can’t tell you,’ she said. ‘It is a private matter.’

‘But your body must be bruised all over.’

‘It is. That is why I’m here,’ she replied.

‘Okay,’ I said, ‘I’ll get on with the healing.’ Then a voice said, ‘I’m Mary. I want to speak to Glenda,’ and I passed the message on.

Glenda held her hands up in horror. ‘Oh no!’ she said. ‘I can’t cope with her.’

‘Why not?’ I asked.

With her head resting in her hands, she muttered, ‘Because I took her husband away from her, that’s why.’

I pressed her to listen to Mary. ‘She doesn’t sound angry to me. Perhaps she can help you.’

Glenda looked weary. ‘Okay, I’ll listen.’

‘Well, I hope you will, because she is telling you to leave your husband before he kills you.’ I paused to listen to Mary. ‘She’s also telling me that you did her a big favour when you took him away from her, as she had never had the courage to leave.’

‘I did that all right,’ she said cynically. ‘What else does she say?’

‘That your husband is a sick man, and that no matter how hard you try to help him you will be the one who suffers most.’ At this point Mary’s voice faded, but I still felt a strong link with her, and felt that she was extremely compassionate.
I passed this feeling on to Glenda.

It was obvious from this conversation that Glenda had been physically abused by her husband, and she began to tell me about it. When she had finished I urged her to think about Mary’s message and she promised to do so. Glenda came to me for a further three sessions.

I met her again four years later, with her new husband. She told me that she thanked Mary every day for her message, as it had probably saved her life. ‘My ex-husband will never change,’ she said. ‘Abusing women is a way of life for him.’

Trying to help women who have been physically abused is not easy. There are a hundred and one reasons why they are unable to leave their tormentors. All I could do was pass on survival messages to them, give them clairvoyance and try to heal them. But even when the outward signs of the abuse are no longer visible, the mental scars remain, and it is this that leads to deteriorating health and terminal illnesses.

It was therefore encouraging to be told how strong they became after healing, and how they have felt that someone was watching over them. This enabled many of them to turn their lives around and put the past behind them. I was thrilled, for I knew just how much courage it had taken for them to take those first steps to freedom.

Although physical violence within families is far more common than people realize, mental cruelty is
more widespread, and the perpetrators, in most cases, turn it into an art form.

Most people are subjected to mental cruelty at some time in their lives and while there are many who can put the experience behind them and go on to lead a happy life, there are thousands who, for one reason or another, have to live with it. And there are countless thousands of children who have to share the humiliation of one or both of their parents. This humiliation spreads like a virus, and a great number of children who grow up in these circumstances go on to use mental abuse as a tool later on in their lives.

Janie’s story is typical of the mental abuse that some women have to suffer. She and her husband were deeply in love when they married. Then she had a child. Although she had put on weight, Janie still had a nice figure, but her husband tormented her about her weight, night and day. She tried to lose the extra pounds, but was so shocked by his treatment that she failed to do so. Things went from bad to worse as she comforted herself with junk foods. Soon she was two stone overweight and the marriage was in deep trouble. Then a member of her family took her in hand and, with a lot of love and persuasion, helped her regain her petite figure. Unfortunately, her husband had found that he enjoyed the power he had over her. No matter how attractive she looked he would criticize her until she cried, then he would walk around singing
and whistling, revelling in the torment his wife was suffering at his hands. When she could stand it no longer she left, taking her child with her. Her husband begged her to return, but it was too late. She felt that she had suffered enough at his hands, and refused to see him again. What a waste of a young family!

Over the years I dealt with hundreds of similar cases, some of them quite sickening. I was able to help in most cases, but the greatest gift these people received was the survival evidence which gave them an assurance that they were not alone.

I will never understand man’s inhumanity to man, or to any living creature. What I do know is that it will continue until everyone comes to understand Universal Law, and the understanding of the need for a spiritual life that co-exists with the physical.

I believe that there is a sickness in our society that needs attention. When I was growing up, people were accepted for what they were, not for how they looked. We accepted that everyone was different, in stature and nature, and we either liked them or we didn’t. As a child, it was always comforting to be greeted by someone who was fat and jolly. Skinny people were usually regarded as being a bit miserable, and what would now be normal was then regarded as boring. Everyone had unique personalities, and did not try to mimic others in any way. Now there are so many clones that they are being accepted as the norm. I find that frightening.

If the love that exists between two people is real, then size and shape should not affect that love. There are so many factors to problems with weight, but I believe that one of the main causes is a deep unhappiness brought about by constant criticism.

To be able to keep our bodies at a constant healthy weight we have to love ourselves. To achieve this, we must continually tell ourselves we think we are great and we deserve to be healthy and fit. Wanting to exercise and maintain a healthy diet will follow. Loving ourselves enables us to ignore unpleasant remarks and plan a happy future.

I do not think that I am alone when I say that I don’t see the physical body when I am speaking to someone. It is the personality that attracts every time, and it does not matter whether they are the most beautiful man or woman in the whole world, if people are boring I have to make my escape.

I am often asked by teenagers how to acquire a pleasing personality. I tell them that they must be genuinely enthusiastic about seeking knowledge, and about making every day of their lives special. They should also be aware that no matter how much they think they know, it is but a drop in the ocean, because no one will ever know it all – but seeking knowledge is so exciting, so stimulating, that the experience stays with you for the rest of your life. That can only be a good thing.

Being a good listener is also a great asset, and one that has enabled me to gain so much from my spirit friends.

I cannot repeat too often that Universal Law multiplies the good and bad deeds, and sends them back to us when we are at our lowest ebb – for the ultimate impact. No one escapes. I am sure that if this Law were to be taught in schools it would eventually bring some sanity into this sad world.

In deep meditation one day, I heard a voice say. ‘Come with me,’ and immediately found myself walking through a maze of hedges. I was unable to identify them, as they were totally unlike anything I had ever seen before. Some were broadleafed, while others were reminiscent of the yew, with the branches forming a circle-like structure. I thought at first that the lanes were of grass, but as I trod them they had the texture and fragrance of camomile. I gave myself up to the total peace and serenity of the atmosphere but, as avenue after avenue came to a dead end, and it appeared that I was going nowhere, this feeling was replaced with a certain frustration. However, because I like a challenge, I kept walking, determined to find a way out. I was also intrigued. Although I knew I had a companion, and could feel the immense power emanating from him, I could not see him.

A bright light appeared above my head, and as it moved forward, I followed it, and found myself standing in a field. Flashing lights lit up the sky, occasionally striking the field, reminding me of an electric
storm I had witnessed once in Spain. And yet I knew that this was different. Then I was surrounded by mist, and began to float high above the field, becoming a part of the firework display. In turn, my body revolved, became still again, and was then propelled forward. I was exhilarated by the freedom of flight and the lack of gravity and could have stayed like that for ever, a small part of the revolving Universe.

But just as that idea flashed through my mind, I found myself standing on the top of a mountain, with seemingly endless valleys, rivers, forests and mountain ranges stretching away into the distance, and I knew that I had come home.

The man spoke to me again. ‘You must write it all down,’ he said, and I was shown a book. I looked at the cover, which was misty, as though a film had been drawn over it. Speaking again, my spirit companion said, ‘When the time comes all will be revealed, but first you have to work. You must provide the text.’

Then I was back in my healing room. I had no recollection of the return journey, but I felt as though I had been away for years. When I looked at the clock it had only been fifteen minutes.

From that day, I dreamed of writing a book about my experiences, but I knew that if I wanted to capture the attention of non-psychics as well as psychics, it would have to be written in a very special way, so that everyone could understand it.

I also knew that there was no possibility of my writing a book just yet. There was just not enough time, especially as I had added workshops to my
agenda. For the moment it remained just a dream.

For various reasons, I decided to have a sitting with that very famous medium Doris Collins, and she told me that I would be giving up hands-on healing, to heal through the written word.

I thought that this was the most ludicrous suggestion; I was still working over seventy hours a week, and there were many people who depended on me. And yet, in my heart, I knew that my appointment with her had been arranged by my spirit friends, so that I could receive confirmation of their message.

Instead of comforting me, this knowledge became a worry. I had established myself as a professional healer over the last nine years and I could not imagine how I could possibly give it up. It was the most important thing in my life. Also, I was now living alone after an amicable separation from my husband, and I needed to work.

The whole idea of my writing a book seemed a total mystery, and was to remain so for the next two years. In the meantime life had to go on; dreams were only taken out of the closet and looked at very occasionally. Like so many people before me, I found that I could not afford them.

However, the memory of that wonderful flight remained with me all the time. The incredible feeling of being able to conquer the world as I stood upon the mountain top, with its fabulous views, reminded me that that was how I should feel every day of my life. I have tried to remain true to this feeling ever since.

Meditation has always played an important role in my life, and, as you have read, it enabled me to develop in a natural way. I believe it is the only way to avoid stress, and to link in to the spiritual help that we so badly need in our materialistic world. Meditating is not difficult. The first steps are very similar to day-dreaming, and we can all do that with ease. The more you day-dream, the more you will find yourself going that bit further into the realms of the spirit, or essence, of the Universe. It is a wonderful feeling for, as your mind energy expands, the pressure is taken off the body, freeing it from the prison of tension and allowing it to pulsate and find its own natural vibrational level again.

In my book,
Betty Shine’s Mind Workbook,
you will find relaxation exercises which will lead you into meditation. There is also a powerful exercise called ‘The Magician’s Castle’ which, if you are true to the first thought that comes into your head, will give you your own clairvoyance. I firmly believe in ‘doing it yourself, so that you can become independent and control your own life instead of depending on others to do it for you. That way you will become strong, and you will also be able to avoid the ever increasing number of ‘control freaks’ who are around. This type of person is weak and has a need to control. Unfortunately, their decisions are tainted because they lack the courage to go forward. I am asked time and again if there is any easy way to identify such a person and there is. If you are living with someone who will not allow you to do anything for yourself, and who
insist that they wait on you hand and foot, even though you are able to look after yourself, do not let them. They are making you dependent on them so that they have the upper hand. In other words, total control. Do not misunderstand me, many of these people do not understand why they behave as they do, and many of them are kind, but making someone dependent damages their psyche and weakens their resolve. If you have a controlling nature, use it where it is most needed – helping others who cannot help themselves. That can only have positive results.

Meditation is also invaluable because it eventually brings you face to face with yourself. You may not necessarily like what you see, but you will certainly know who and what you are, and from there you can restructure yourself. This in itself is a fascinating journey and, once you have jumped the first few hurdles, it can be a joy. Try it!