You Are a Medium: Discover Your Natural Abilities to Communicate With the Other Side (3 page)

In the
third section
on the book, I help you to become aware of how you unknowingly, interact with your loved ones on the other

side. You have within you the qualities of a medium and a particu-

lar way of communicating with the other side.

In my book
Discover Your Psychic Type
, I reveal how we all have a particular way that we absorb and receive intuitive energy

information. We do this through our thoughts, emotions, our

physical body and our energy field. I have heard from many people

who after reading this book are better able to understand the spon-

taneous and often perplexing thoughts, feelings, bodily sensations

and inexplicable knowing of information that they sometimes ex-

perience.

In this same way, you are often unknowingly connecting and

communicating with those on the other side. A flash of light or

color or an image that quickly passes in and out of your vision is

easy to ignore. Yet, it may be a loved one on the other side trying to let you know that he or she is with you. The waves of emotion

that sometime seem to come out of nowhere, the conversations

that go on in your head or the spontaneous awareness of ideas and

solutions to problems may also be real encounters with those on

the other side. That sudden feeling that you are not alone and that there is a guiding presence with you may be someone in the spirit

realm offering you a helping hand. Once you become aware of how

you interact with those on the other side you can better develop

and enhance your natural medium abilities.

10 ~ Introduction

This section includes a quiz to help you to become aware of

your innate medium tendencies. As well as meditations and step

by step development exercises for each medium type. In the last

chapter of the book there are exercises to help you to further assist those in the spirit realm. This includes practical ways to help your loved ones who are making their transition into the spirit realm

and exercises to assist lost souls and ghosts into the safety and light of the heavens.

Y

Whatever your interest may be in connecting and communicat-

ing with the other side, it promises to be an exciting and enlightening adventure. As you make your way through this book, you may

identify with some of the events and influences that led to my be-

coming a professional medium. You might also recognize some of

your own challenges and experiences in the stories of my client sessions. As you read about how those in spirit have been helped by

their loved ones positive efforts here on earth, you may be more

motivated to better embrace your life lessons. Yet, this book is not meant to simply be a testament to my abilities or the experiences

of others. My hope is that you will more fully understand and em-

brace your own innate medium ability and further develop it. In

the last section I empower you to further dig in and embrace your

inner medium.

Now, relax, sit back and enjoy your visit with the spirit realm.

Don’t be surprised if you intuit and sense a loved one (or two) on

the other side, reading along with you.

Introduction ~ 11

Section 1

My Path to Becoming a Medium

1

The Good Dead:

My Early Years

Many of my clients want to know how long I have been com-

municating with the other side. The answer I tell them is

simple. As far back as I can remember. My connection and ease

with interacting with the other side, hasn’t felt like an extraordinary feat or a leap into phenomena and the mysterious. From a

young age I felt and saw the presence of those in spirit and it was a source of love and comfort. It has never been odd, unusual or

strange for me. I believe that this is in part due to the circumstances in my family before I was even conceived. You could say that the

road to my becoming a medium was in many ways paved before I

was born.

Angel Sister

I don’t remember how old I was when I first heard the story of my

sister’s birth. It was a tragic family story that was told many times.

It happened years ago during the time when fathers drank coffee

and smoked cigarettes in the waiting room of the nursery section

of the hospital. Not invited to participate in the birth process, they instead occupied themselves with magazines and small talk while

waiting for a nurse to signal them that their baby had been born.

15

Unlike my mother’s first pregnancy, this one was long, too long

and difficult. My father paced back and forth in the waiting room

for hours. Finally the doctor arrived. My father said that when he

saw him enter he wanted to feel relief. Instead, an uneasy sense of dread pounded in his head. He knew something was not right.

“It is your decision.” The doctor said while tensely looking at

the clock on the wall.

Tired and drained after hours of pacing the floor and watching

the clock, the answer was obvious but painful. Looking down at the

floor my father said the words he never thought he would have to

say.

“You must save my wife.” Moments later, tears of love for his

baby daughter who would never breathe her first breath, silently

fell down his cheek.

Less than a year later, I was born. My older sister, Dawn Marie

died at birth. Twelve hours into a painful delivery, the doctor discovered that she had hydrocephalus, a condition of fluid in the

brain. She did not survive the birth.

Growing up my mother spoke of Dawn Marie often. I was con-

ceived within weeks of her passing and born on my father’s birth-

day, a minor miracle that did not go unnoticed by my grieving

parents. My mother said that she was pregnant for eighteen straight months. People who she knew from the grocery store, bank and

her other everyday errands would stop her and ask. “Isn’t that baby born yet?”

From a young age I knew that I had a sister in heaven. She was a

part of my life and it felt as if she was a part of me. I confided in her when I said my prayers at night. She was my playmate, my friend

and as I got older I shared my teenage secrets with her. I could see her as an outline of sparkly light and curly blond hair. I recognized her presence as warmth and comfort. My connection with Dawn

Marie was natural and I felt lucky to have an angel sister.

16 ~ The Good Dead: My Early Years

The Beloved Dead

In my home the dead were the good ones. My mother’s favorite

brother died before I was born. He was a New York City firefighter

who died as a result of an injury he sustained while fighting a fire.

We had his fireman’s hat in our hall closet. Like him, it was hon-

ored and revered. When I was a toddler my father’s brother, a New

Hampshire state police man also died in line of duty. He was taking blood to the hospital to save a man who had been injured in a car

accident. Winding down a mountain road he was hit head on by a

speeding car and died at the scene. We loved him too.

The beloved dead also included, my mother’s best friend, Aunt

Marianne. She was the kindest person I had ever met. She tirelessly played games with us and was the first adult I knew who seemed

to actually like being with me and my siblings. Never married

and with no children of her own, I often wished that she was my

mother. She died of cancer when I was about ten.

Yet, perhaps the strongest presence of the dead in my home

was my grandmother, my mother’s mother. I often saw my grand-

mother as a translucent outline sitting next to my mother at the

kitchen table. She would also follow her in and out of the car, into her bedroom and into the basement when my mother did the laundry. I didn’t know if she could see me.

My mother spoke of her mother often. She died while getting

ready for church when my mother was seventeen. According to my

mother she died of a broken heart.

“My father killed her,” is what she told us. “He left her for an-

other woman.”

My mother was bitter and angry much of the time and when I

was young I believed this to be my grandfather’s fault.

In time my father also proved to be what my mother referred

to as a “good for nothing, dead beat alcoholic”. He, along with

many other living folk that crossed my mother’s path, could not be

trusted. The dead, I learned were good, the living not so much.

The Good Dead: My Early Years ~ 17

I don’t know if our dead’s honored place in my home had any-

thing to do with my ability to see, hear and communicate with the

other side. But, it motivated and made it comfortable enough for

me to trust and allow my natural medium ability to develop.

All life is Energy

My first memory is an intuitive one. One early morning, standing

in the garden of a house we lived in when I was two, I saw purple,

gold and green light surrounding the flowers and plants. The sun

was rising and I remember staring transfixed as colors and light

shimmered and glowed. The garden was sparse. It had just a few

flowers and bushes and flat stones that led through its center. But, for me it was a magical place where I felt surrounded by comforting and warm company. Everything that is alive emits energy. Ani-

mals, plants, people, the sky, water and even the wind have life force energy. When we physically die it is our energy body that lives on.

Sometimes it is observed as a vague outline, sometimes as steaks of light and color and at other times, the energy body can be seen as a three dimensional physical person.

I never heard the words, intuitive, psychic and medium until I

was much older. I did not need to define the tingly presence of en-

ergy and color that I regularly experienced. A rush of warm air that came out of nowhere, an inner surge of love, dreaming of future

events and the instantaneous knowing of information was com-

monplace. Seeing the distinct outline or image of a person, hearing him or her whisper to me or share a smile was not unusual. I didn’t need any words to describe this. It was normal and natural.

One of my first experiences of seeing a spirit in a solid looking

human form happened when I was about eight. Up until this time

the dead people I saw were more wispy and transparent looking. I

was riding my bike up and down the hilly streets of my neighbor-

hood. One side of my street bordered the woods. This is I spent

most of my days with my friends, building forts and picking black-

18 ~ The Good Dead: My Early Years

berries. On this particular day I was riding past a field of grass and wild flowers and in the distance I saw a dark haired woman in a

white dress waving to me. She had a kind face and a big smile. My

heart leapt with joyful recognition when I saw here. Without a sec-

ond thought, I jumped off of my bike and ran as fast as I could to

her. But when I got to where she stood, she was gone. She had van-

ished. Running to the edge of the field and into the woods, I looked all around for her. For several minutes I was on the verge of tears.

I felt unexplainable feelings of love for her. I had no idea who she was, but I wanted to be with her. For years, I looked for her in this field. I have never seen her again.

Religion and the Supernatural

The more I experienced of the supernatural, the more I wanted to

know. I was surprised that my friends did not always seem to share