I remember, very dimly, stories from Sunday School about Old Testament prophets. The details are hazy, but there seemed to be several guys, just going about their daily, mundane, earthly existence when suddenly they were exposed to something totally weird.
Sometimes there was a burning bush or some other phenomenon to underline the significance of the situation. They downloaded a pile of information from this God, who then told them to go off and tell everyone what they’d just heard. Most, if I recall correctly, were totally horrified. Who can blame them? It’s one thing to have a transcendent experience and channel information from Source, but quite another to have to go and share it with all and sundry. Who would believe them? How would others react? They’d be on a fast track to ridicule at best; stoning at worst. Not an enviable position to be placed in.
They have my sympathy. Really – in bucket loads. Because although I have not, thankfully, been accosted by voices from burning bushes or anything on that scale, I’ve had my share of, um, interesting and unusual experiences – and the temptation to keep these occurrences firmly to myself has been overwhelming.
Let’s take The Kid as an example. He’s a real person. I’m fairly sure he won’t be reading this, unless I email it to him, but a smattering of my regular readers have met him and could, if I asked them, attest to his reality. I’ll put down a few ‘facts’ (if I can use that word) about him and maybe you’ll see the dichotomy I face:
- I met him as a pupil in my class when he was 6 years old
- He fairly quickly informed me that he recalled a shared past life with me and that, by the way, he was telepathic
- His mother died when he was 9
- Two days before her death, she called me to her bedside and asked me to mentor him as he grew up
- His father remarried a few years later
- His mother contacted me from ‘beyond’ and warned me that there were huge problems brewing between him and his stepmother, and asked me to fight his corner
You see? We’ve only gone a few years into this strange story and I’m ruffling feathers by claiming to have dabbled in spiritual mediumship. Some will believe it – others won’t. The whole of that story, by the way, can be found in an earlier post. To me, each of the above facts is equally true. Your opinion may be different. I respect that. However in my weaker moments, I fear your ridicule, just as those poor prophets did.
Shall I go on? Should I tell of the time when The Kid was 15? Might as well.
I was sitting at my computer, preparing lessons for my class one Sunday afternoon. Gradually I became aware that a very unpleasant feeling of deep anxiety was building in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t account for it. Nothing was bothering me. I had no particular concerns about the lessons, the class or anything else, but the sensation got steadily worse. I went and checked that all my family were well and happy. They were, but still the anxiety built. It was becoming quite debilitating.
Then I remembered a couple of similar experiences several years earlier. I recalled that The Kid had an uncanny ability to project his feelings to me. That telepathy thing – it very occasionally worked both ways.
I phoned him. He answered instantly. His voice had a ‘what kept you so long?’ tone. Maddening! He told me he had to attend a work experience interview the next day and was very concerned about it. He’d never attended an interview before. Would I help him think of the sort of questions that might come up and how he should answer them, please?
I ran him through a mock interview. The anxiety, of course, left both of us. I also asked him why he hadn’t just phoned me, like any normal person. He told me his way was ‘better’ and laughed.
I could tell many other stories involving this young man; many are equally strange. In my previous post I told the latest, and strangest yet; one that stretches credibility to its very limits. And it takes little more than a single sarcastic comment to send the coward in me scurrying for cover and wanting to shut up about the whole thing.
However, I have a problem with that. Earlier in the year I was sent – from a source I deeply respect – a clear message that I should write the whole story of my encounters with The Kid. I was told that it would be of great help and value to others and would be well received. Bravely, I agreed. I began drafting the manuscript. Then the doubts crept in – masses of them. Gradually the writing ceased and I swept the whole idea into a corner of my mind. When the astral planes stuff started (see previous post), I was very glad I’d done so and congratulated myself on being pragmatic and sensible. Nobody would believe that sort of thing.
Then I won the prize.
Just a harmless piece of fun – I entered an online draw for a psychic reading. All I had to do was select my favourite colours. Where was the harm in that? These are extracts from the reading I was sent as my prize; a reading, incidentally that was peppered with many very true and relevant observations about various aspects of my life:
“I feel your name was drawn for a reason… This is a message you needed to receive… I feel this refers to you being a great communicator… drawing upon this innate skill… get your message to others… Spread this knowledge to those willing to listen…Through speaking your truth you will find your message reaching others and helping them…”
Rats! I think that meddlesome Higher Self or whatever is trying to tell me something. Maybe I should start writing again before anything in the garden starts spontaneously combusting…
…and I need to get myself back to that brave place I was in when I agreed to tell the story – the place where I understand what ‘truth’ really is.