Ways I learned to live with psychic power, with warnings.* 21st in series.

I had mentioned meeting other psychics by way of letters to the editor, and my response to make contact with them was to do a psychic  reading for them.    All  three of the psychics I corresponded with or met, had attitudes about what they could do, which left me uneasy about them.  In a way, I seemed to be underneath their radar.  If I did not want someone to “see” me, or what I could do, they did not, and if I was willing to be seen, they could.  But, it also was not so much how I would see myself, as though it was more as someone else’s opinion of me and idea about me.  I did not know if I would be doing the same, and if so, it is not really very accurate.

I would say it was pretty natural to use this to know people better, both what they wanted me to see, and what I just saw on my own. Better yet to see both and know the difference.   I also knew if secrets were being kept,————not what they were, but that there were secrets.   I began to wonder, am I keeping secrets when I do not want anyone to know what I can do?  Does keeping a secret also go with an effort to blind someone in their own ability to see others as they are.  I was keeping it a secret within my family, and this was troubling me.  Yet, it was not a welcome topic to my husband, and I could not mention it without him taking it as something dangerous or bad.  I now hear this is pretty common in families where one has this kind of ability, and others do not.   The woman who was living near by, would seem to want to know things, as if a secret known would give her power over someone else.  She would say, “if they don‘t like what I can do, that is their problem, not mine.”  But, I felt it just might be a problem between them, both directions.  It was my own problem.

I finally held it as a prayer, to the effect, for anyone who can see me as I am, without it being a problem to them, I would be an open book, but not to project how I want to be seen.  No secrets, nothing hidden, but it is up to how it can be received.  In another approach, if I wanted to send a message, wake someone up spiritually, pray for someone or see them without them inviting it from me, like, wanting to communicate with me, I came to this idea.  I only want to see for and about others on a “need to know” basis.  Even  a secret, if I need to know it.   But not to just pry or want to see about others, when it does not concern me at all.   Mind my own business.  But, if I need to know, let it come to my attention in as strong a way as will register it to me.  This is pretty rare, actually.   And, if I urgently want to put a message across to someone, I have the idea it is like a message in a bottle, and it will not be thrown to hit someone, it will  be there if they want to pick it up.  Sometimes, actually, someone else seems to  pick up on it once in a while.   All of this was arrived at out of my warnings and doubts and questions.  But, before the end of this 3 years that I had psychic ability, another childhood experience came to my came to my mind again.       The Tree Lady.   We took our first vacation driving back east to visit my parents.  The kids were all given beds or sleeping bags down in the room we called the parlor.  My husband and I had an upstairs bedroom I had never slept in before; it had been my grandfather’s bedroom over the years.   In the night, I heard a little child crying.  I got up and went to find her.  But, it was a dream, not actual, when I completely thought it to be actual.  I went into the next room, never realizing it had been my own room when I first slept alone upstairs as a 5-year-old.  I did not know who the little girl was, but I tried to comfort her.  I told her all I could think of about prayer, faith, truth, God, love, as I held her.  I felt that I told her everything I knew by that time in my life.  Finally, toward dawn, I told her she could remember me and whatever I had told her when she heard the tree leaves rustling outside her window.   In the morning, I was remembering this as if it really had happened, and my husband and I went into this next room.  By then, it was a storeroom, with barely space to walk around in it.   I was shocked.  By then, I knew it had to be a dream, of course.  But, when we went down to breakfast, I began to remember something.  I asked my parents, “when I first slept alone upstairs, did I talk about a Tree Lady?”  They told me, yes I had.  I asked what had I said?  They said that they did not exactly remember, but it seemed to be OK, and good for me.  They felt it must be a guardian angel or something, and never worried about it at all.  I had said the Tree Lady told me this or that, and would chatter about it in the morning, and they just took it at face value, even if I may have dreamed or imagined it.   To make sense of it, then when I was about 37,  I saw it as something I had already known, but was only that far along in remembering about it at that time in my life when I had dreamed of telling the child.   But, like lifting ourselves by our own bootstraps, it was latent in me to be remembered, all along.  And, this perhaps reinforced it that I would not remain forgetful of it.  The only memory I had of the Tree Lady impressions of that age is that I felt so very safe and loved and comforted.  I  did not know what she told me, I just believed her and was very comforted by what I thought she told me each time.  Nothing could hurt me.  I would get to where my life was supposed to go.  I may have chattered about what I was told, but I think none of it was remembered as such at that time.  But when I did remember it or learn it again, I recognized it was not the first time I had known it.   There is a distinct difference in learning for the first time ever.  I also saw it as a way that Love can reach even over time, both ways to.  I responded to the girl as I would to my own child.  As that child, I responded to the tree lady as someone to trust, to believe.  In a way there is no explanation, but it happened.   Soon after, the next and final guiding dream came to me.

Post a Comment

Required fields are marked *


%d bloggers like this: