My left knee – part 1 of a journey into alternate communication

English: Front side of the left knee. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The time has come to tell a very strange story.

The only reason I haven’t shared it widely before is that I was pretty sure most people wouldn’t believe me, but now perhaps you will.  I’ll tell it exactly as it happened and you can decide what you think – or maybe share your own stories, because I’m sure there must be others who have had similar experiences.

About 12 years ago my friend Nina died.  It was cancer.  It was desperately sad – especially so as she had two young children and had just started her own business, doing something she’d always wanted to do, and it had all been going so well.

I was, as far as I can work out, just about the last of the visitors at the hospice who managed to have a lucid conversation with her.  Certainly by the following evening she’d closed her eyes, was apparently unresponsive and a couple of days later she died.

Our conversation was, as you can imagine, very strange.  We chatted about her funeral arrangements the way we’d once have discussed holiday plans.  It was all very low-key and matter-of-fact.  That was how she wanted to play it, and who was I to stir things up?

By now I knew she had no belief in any kind of afterlife, and although she insisted that she would miss her son’s smile and cuddling the dog, she also insisted she’d just go to sleep and cease to be.  I told her I didn’t agree, but she brushed my ideas aside and gave me instructions on how to help her husband out with the kids.

Now the story jumps a few years.

I’d been feeling very tired and low, and – for the first time ever, with great trepidation – I went to see a spiritual healer.  No idea what to expect, but he was kind, friendly and put me at ease.  I laid on his couch and he played quiet, ambient music.  I was supposed to drift off into an altered state while he performed the healing.

That was the idea, but it didn’t work out that way.

Almost as soon as he started, I felt the most agonising pain coursing through my knee. My whole body jerked with the spasm and it took all my willpower to stop myself yelling out.  These jolts of pain – as if I were being gripped by some kind of mechanical vice – continued until he’d finished ‘healing’ me.  The pain only began to subside once he stopped and I could sit up.

The poor man could offer no explanation for what had happened.  He mumbled something about me perhaps having a fear of moving forward on my feminine side, but without much conviction.

I hobbled from the treatment room, but before I’d reached the end of his road, all trace of discomfort had vanished.

Glutton for punishment, perhaps, but I booked another appointment the following week.  Yes, it happened again.  I was fine until the spiritual healing began and fine afterwards, but during the session I writhed and squirmed and was unable to get any relief.

At that point I gave up on spiritual healing for a while. (Although in all fairness, I must add that once the mystery had been solved, I returned to that healer and had some excellent treatment from him.)

My left knee behaved itself perfectly until a few weeks later when I happened to be listening to a radio programme about spiritual mediums.  Slowly at first, the gripping pain started, gradually becoming more insistent and less bearable.  It continued until the programme finished, then stopped completely.

Hmm.

The next day I had time to think things through.  Slowly it dawned on me that on each of the three occasions, there had been a connection to things spiritual and ‘beyond the veil’.  As if in answer to my thoughts, I felt a light but distinct twinge in the knee.

“Keep going,” it seemed to be saying. “You’re getting there.”

Then I had a truly creepy thought.  Was someone trying to reach me from the other side?

The answering twinge was there again.

I tried to keep calm.  It was fine.  Someone ‘over there’ was mistaking me for some kind of Doris Stokes person because I’d very occasionally taken an interest in things of a spiritual nature.  It was obviously a wrong number.  After all, who did I know who had passed over and would have any reason to contact me?

Nina?

NI???

Once more the squeeze, but gentle this time – almost a playful nudge.

Nina – known to friends and family by the first syllable of her name – was contacting me.

Knee!  Better yet, LEFT knee!!

Marx Brothers, head-and-shoulders portrait, facing front. Top to bottom: Chico, Harpo, Groucho and Zeppo. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Oh yes, even the sense of humour fitted.  She’d been a great Marx Brothers fan…

Ni might have ‘left’ a few years earlier, but she’d clearly discovered that she was by no means lost in that dreamless sleep she’d been expecting.  Our conversation was far from over – it was just beginning.

I quickly learned how to hold a conversation with her, and discovered why she had been so insistent on contacting me.  That, too, is an amazing story, but it will have to wait for another post.

I’d be fascinated to hear from anyone who has had a similar experience.

“Have you ever written a story, then found out it was true?”

The title of this post is a question that was put to me by a 7-year-old girl I was working with a few years ago.

I knew exactly what she meant.  I even quoted her in Life: A Player’s Guide.

Of course the book I wrote wasn’t a story.  I truly believed every word of it as I wrote it.  I just never imagined I’d be given such fantastic proof and validation of what I’d said.  And I certainly never would have expected it to be playing out in my own lifetime in such a dramatic fashion.

What follows is quite a personal story, and I could have chosen to keep it to myself.  In many ways that would have felt more comfortable.  There’s something so amazing about it, though, that I feel I want to share it.

 

So here goes… a True Story:

Well yes, ok, you do get some very funny looks – and a few not-very-funny comments – when your best friend is an ex-student, on the autistic spectrum, and you’re almost too old to be his mother.

Regardless of all that, we spent many long and happy days together when he was a child and teenager.  We spent hours on the phone and on interminable train journeys, chatting about science, theology, spirituality, channelling, dowsing, philosophy, time travel, past lives and all the kinds of stuff we both found fascinating and most of our friends and family members found downright weird.

Then – well – he grew up.  The phone calls and visits became fewer and further between and eventually stopped.  An occasional word or two in reply to a text was the best I could hope for.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking.  That’s the way it should be.  The young man had the sense to stop hanging out with his ex-teacher and found more suitable companions.  Good job too.

Except he didn’t.  He seemed to retreat into himself and speak to no one.  I’d have been fine about it if he’d gone off to enjoy life with mates and found a girlfriend or two, but I hated the thought of him being all alone.

So now you’re saying, ‘Ok, the brown stuff happens.  You did your best.  Get over it.’

But I couldn’t.

You see I know how LIFE works – for me, anyhow. I wrote the Player’s Guide.  There’s a whole section in there on synchronous relationships – the ones that are ‘meant’; that have clearly been pre-planned at soul level before we started on this particular lifetime.  In those relationships, people come together in order to fulfil some particular purpose.

If you’ve read the book, or seen similar ideas expressed elsewhere, you may be saying, ‘Yes, but you had about ten years.  Surely that should be enough to achieve whatever-it-was?’

You’d think so, wouldn’t you?

It was just that I knew – deep in my soul – that there was more.  I knew I was missing something vital.  I knew it was all happening like this for a reason.  I just couldn’t figure out what that reason was.

So what else does my book say?  It says we believe everything in our lives into existence.  I believed there was an answer, so there was, and I set about hunting for it.

That has been a long process – long and painful.  So many kind and well-meaning people have tried to help from a human perspective.  None of them has understood that I was searching for an answer from a soul perspective.

Then, a few weeks ago I discovered – on WordPress, no less – a couple from the United States.  The lady, Cynthia, channels a group of Spirit Beings known as The Council.  Her partner, Bob, asks questions and meticulously records the answers.  They offer this service on their blog, modestly titled ‘Ask The Council’.

I started flicking through their posts. This was all so familiar – and so RIGHT.  It was like listening to the words of Seth and other higher dimensional beings whose words I’d read and marvelled over.  These answers didn’t come from wise and thoughtful people – they came from Spirit; from a Higher Consciousness.

I felt an instant resonnance with what was being said.  With mounting excitement, I wrote my question for The Council.  Then I waited.

I believe we are all souls – great, expanded, powerful beings – who have chosen to spend some time being human.  I believe there’s a deep and important reason for this.  My book explains all that.  I also believe there is help available when it all gets too difficult.  That help can come from all manner of sources, so why not a blog?

Yes, I received an answer from The Council.  It told me several things I’d known or suspected, and many others I had no idea about.  It completely transformed my understanding of this very unusual friendship and its purpose.  It made perfect sense of matters I’d never understood and it made me incredibly happy.

If you click on The Answer from The Council, you will be able to see what I was told.

Maybe you have a few questions about your own life, too?