So. You see Matt Fraser here? Happy? Radiant? Beaming with spiritual energy? And those teeth! They shine like Heaven. He is everything that I am not, right now.
My teeth have tea stains. My aura is dull. My eyes are dim and red rimmed with allergies. My spiritual energy has vanished; no more psychedelic experiences during meditation, and to be honest, I don’t meditate much anymore. I’m depressed from the inside out, and my spirit guides have left on vacation, or they are not interested in my heavy vibes, or maybe they have better things to do. So, what happened?
I trace this back to a death in the family. Someone close, very close, to my husband and me bid the world farewell on August 20th, 2021. What followed were a flurry of communications from him, many of which were stunningly accurate (see my last post). I saw him in meditation, I felt him, there was connection. On this one particular day, I decided to meditate in order to see how he was doing out there in the spirit world, and he showed up more clearly than ever. One of the things that he asked me to do was locate “Bob Berman”. Finally–a name. I had something specific, something tangible, to take to the grieving widow. So I sent her the information via email. I was sure that the name would ring a bell; she would be overwhelmed with my accuracy and skills, find the person in questions, and some kind of healing would ensue.
Here is Bob Berman. He is an American “astronomer, author, and science popularizer” who was the coauthor of one of Robert Lanza’s books, Beyond Biocentrism, a book I had been reading at the time. My relatives had no idea who this gentleman was, and he did not appear as a contact anywhere in my in-law’s extensive files. My in-law kept meticulous files on anyone and everyone he met. So if Bob Berman did not appear in his virtual and actual Rolodex, he had never met him.
What that means, of course, is that my subconscious mind–searching for information, looking to fill in the gaps–had provided me with this tidbit of useless and damning information. I had made it all up, after all. Not knowingly, not intentionally, and certainly not with the goal of making me look impressive as a medium, because it had the opposite effect: I feel now that I have no right to practice this art. And since that day, when the Berman Bomb dropped, I have stopped doing readings of any kind.
I suppose that I could give myself a break, tell myself that every medium has a bad day, but this was a particularly chilling revelation, and it led to the inevitable question: how much of the information I receive is genuine? How much is gleaned from my subconscious mind? How much is just vague or general enough to please eager relatives and friends who want to hear from a loved one? I have an impressive “hit” gallery, but then again, every reading is a combination of intuitive guesswork, material from the recesses of my mind, and something else that doesn’t have easy explanations.
It’s the “something else” that used to keep me going, that source of information that never revealed itself. However, it’s hard to trust the Universe when you keep confusing your signals. Mediumship, like everything else, requires discipline and practice. If a loss is a very personal one, it makes sense that your emotions might get in the way of a good and objective reading. I desperately wanted to help my family find some kind of closure, and perhaps that desire clouded my ability to connect. Or, perhaps there really IS some sort of Bob Berman connection that I have yet to discover. After all, the information from “Bob” was accurate. It was only the name that didn’t work.
There are many blocks to communicating with spirit. The first one is believing in yourself, trusting that you have real, tangible skills. The second is trying to hard and filling in the blanks when you are receiving little or nothing. Sometimes, you cannot connect, and you will not know why. Other times, you will connect immediately when you weren’t really trying. Third: you don’t practice or you give up too soon. There was no reason really to abandon my readings. I think grief and ongoing shock are affecting my system and my skills. My in law contacted me so clearly and so directly that I was caught off guard, and perhaps a little frightened. That brings me to perhaps my #1 reason for giving up: Fear.
In my case, it’s fear of accuracy–it’s fear of successful communication. Something about my best readings terrified me. I didn’t know how the process ‘worked’ or what was working through me, because it wasn’t so simple to say simply “God”–there were multiple ‘helpers’ involved, but I couldn’t see them or know their identity, only that I could intuit their existence. It’s all so maddeningly vague, so hard to pinpoint or identify, it’s like an endless pursuit of something that only reveals itself on occasion and for brief moments in time.
If anyone out there has experienced the fear of contact with the Other Side, or has blundered in a reading, or has become despondent attempting to understand What the Hell is Going On, please contact me. I would love to hear from you.
–Kirsten A. Thorne, PhD