Sometimes I forget where I am presently and how I got here.
I forget that I am a psychic,
I forget I am a medium,
I forget I am a healer.
I like forgetting sometimes.
There are times I ignore it all and drive along my road without a thought of where I am, where I was, where I am heading, and how I got on the road in the first place.
It is actually easier to forget, quieter, less stressful, less demanding than notice the road I am traveling on.
This happened to me last Sunday when one of my most fabulous friends and I were heading to Chatham to put the finishing touches on what I lovingly refer to as my "Spirit Studio."
As we casually drifted over the mountain from MA to NY, we happily chatted about our families, our jobs, our friends, our plans, football, and hypnosis.
I mentioned that I took a hypnosis course to help people get into a quieter state while treating them using Emotional Freedom Techniques, EFT for short, for pain relief, PTSD, weight loss, etc.
She laughed out loud and exclaimed, "Is there anything you can't do?!"
I giggled back and said, "plenty."
After a moment or two she pensively turned towards me and said, "no, really, is there anything you can't do?"
The thoughtfulness of her words, coupled with the softer tone of her voice, made me pause and rethink her question.
Again, I responded as I had the first time she asked with "plenty" and I meant it.
I can't settle into who I am.
I can't be comfortable with what I do.
I can't explain what I see.
I can't vocalize what I hear without my voice quivering.
I can't stop my heart from racing before each client walks through my door.
I can't seem to keep my eyes dry when I hear a loved one tell my client they love them and miss them.
I can't not react to the seesaw of emotions of my clients during a session.
I can't control the pain in my body when my "friends" on the other side show me how or what they have died from.
If your loved one smoked, I would cough.
If your loved one suffered, I will for a moment too.
If they saw it, I see it. If it mattered to them, it matters to me.
I can't always turn it off, but I am learning to dim it down.
I can't stop yearning to help, to be better, to be "good" or "right" or "legitimate."
I can't do a lot,
There is plenty I can't do, but what I can do is continue following the road I've been detoured on.
Being a Medium, better yet, admitting to being a Medium is not a road I found on a map and decided to sightsee on.
As a matter of fact, I wasn't even aware I was a Medium until I got a phone call from a potential client asking me for a psychic reading because one of her friends got a "reading" from me during one of her massages.
Of course I laughed it away questioning Bonnie, "What is she thinking? I am not a Medium!"
Oh, I dabbled in tarot as a teenager and young adult.
I prided myself on "knowing" before others and I even knew I was psychic my entire life.
Of course now I know we all are, but for a bit, I was "special."
Being a Medium, that is a whole lot different than tossing a card or two on a table in front of a living person and playing the psychic game.
Being a Medium is a deep, often lonely transformation from ego to soul in which I could not have prepared myself for had I been told what was happening.
Thankfully, for me at least, it was a slow process.
I would tell people what I saw while I massaged them not really knowing what I was doing other than being the chatterbox I am known to be.
I would see a photo in my head and talk about it.
Hear a few words and ask questions about it.
My jaw would ache if I didn't say anything or I would drool.
Yup, drool on the client lying on the table....not good for business.
Eventually I realized I had to come clean with what I saw or wear a bib for the rest of my life. I hate bibs.
That first phone call was the catalyst that put me in the passenger seat of the Universe's Prius on a blindingly bright road without a seat belt.
A journey of healing, love, upliftment, sadness, fear, confusion and in the end gratitude.
This ride I may never be able to understand and will always be slightly afraid of.
Who am I fooling, terrified of.
A yearning to be more than who I am, to be more than who I dream I can be, and to hold onto a light that if I look too closely into, may absorb me completely.
An easier road is where I was found, but this road is where I belong.
Travelling any other road, the road not travelled, is something else I can't do, but that I can be ok with.