Sometimes listeners can’t place a relevant message on air because they lose focus due to the nerves of knowing they’re on the radio, and then later the station gets an excited telephone call saying they’ve just spoken to someone who remembered the information. What a bonus—just a pity we didn’t get the feedback on air at the time of the reading.
The messages may sometimes seem disjointed. This is because I have pages and pages of information in front of me, and have to choose what I feel is the best evidence of life after death, being mindful that the DJ needs to insert advertisement and music breaks.
When I’m not reading my notes, I close my eyes and ‘feel’ Spirit, their energies and their messages, often opening my eyes to see Kyle waving his hand around in a clockwise direction indicating he wants me to wind down for a scheduled break or I have gone beyond my designated time frame.
Radio loves emotion—the station buzzes when an on-air listener shows excitement, screams or, better still, bursts into tears. ‘Dearly Departed’ left many listeners driving to work in tears as they tapped into the raw emotion of the person having the reading, allowing them to share a private moment with a stranger or an intimate experience that they could perhaps relate to. Often Kyle would hand Jackie and I tissues as tears were rolling down our faces in response to the listener’s feedback. It’s what makes great radio.
The messages can be very cryptic, and it takes years and years of practice to get the facts interpreted quickly and accurately so the client can glean some sense of what’s being given. If the listener’s primary sense of relating to the world is through sight, or visual stimuli, then listening to me rapidly passing on information through their auditory senses can be quite difficult for them to absorb there and then.
Liken this to someone who prefers to hear a story being told compared with someone who enjoys reading the story. On radio, we try to paint a picture using visual cues to stimulate the auditory senses with music, dialogue and tonal changes in our voices in anyway we can, so everyone can enjoy and relate to being part of a link to the cosmos—the universal truth that there is life after death.
9
Spirit-inspired synchronicity Spirit-inspired synchronicity
Do not assume that divine guidance flows only when you are in need of help. Guidance continues to flow whether or not you have problems. It transcends problems, heartbreaks and traumas, flowing through dreams and illuminations. Whether guidance comes during times of tranquillity or trauma, however, it is up to you to have the courage to acknowledge it.
Caroline Myss
I know there’s a divine plan for each soul—we all have a purpose, and sometimes it’s only when we’ve reached our destination that we can look back and see the miracle of the wonderfully woven story of our life’s purpose going this way and that way until the plan has come to maturation. Such was the case with Susie, an Australian media icon, journalist, author and TV identity.
I’ve watched Susie’s progress in the media over the years with interest, as we share some common ground. When I met Susie, she was gracious and charming, with a charismatic glow about her and an infectious smile.
‘Susie—do you realise how much we have in common? We both went to the same high school, and your parents eventually bought the same Caltex service station in the northern beaches that my parents used to own.’
We were both amazed with the coincidences.
Susie had a radio gig that was winding down for Christmas and invited me along as her guest psychic for the very last show. She admitted she was not overly sold on psychics, but she knew listeners loved that kind of thing.
As I fielded live questions from the listeners, and the phones ran hot, Susie seemed more and more surprised at the degree of accuracy; she then asked what I saw for her. I remember quite clearly I saw her in front of a television camera with her own national TV show. When we went into an ad break, Susie turned to me, smiling, and told me she was working on a project around a TV show, and if it came off she would be calling me. Months passed, and I had forgotten all about this prediction when Susie rang, asking me to join the show as the psychic!
A week earlier, I had been visiting Brendan and Latoya, and I was telling them about a series of books about miracles that I just love, written by two Jewish women, that seem to be focused on stories mostly of Jewish families and wonderful synchronicities and events in their lives.
When I returned to Sydney, I kept thinking about my dear friend Simon, who had passed over. His face and name would pop into my head at various times during the day, and I wondered whether he had a message for me. But nothing eventuated . . . until I hopped into bed one Wednesday evening and looked at my diary.
It was June 13 and it was a cold night. I pulled the doona up to my neck, then I heard the song ‘Hava Nagilla’ as loud as can be!
I knew Simon loved this song, coming from the Jewish faith, and I had accompanied him to several functions where it had been played. I started to think, okay, now he’s going to give me the message I’ve been expecting. But no, it wasn’t to be the case.
Suddenly a man and a woman appeared in my room—the man stood at the back of my bedroom, in the corner, very still and quiet.
As I focused my attention on him, the song changed to a hit from the 1980s called ‘Shaddap You Face’ by Joe Dolce. I started thinking perhaps this man was an immigrant. My mind kept wandering back to Susie for some reason. I knew her parents were immigrants, but was unsure from where—perhaps Lebanon.
Suddenly it hit me—Simon’s birthday was June 21, and that was the day for the filming of the first show, and the show was going to be aired for the first time on June 25, the date Simon died. I wondered if Susie was Jewish. This had to be a message for her. Once I realised this, the visions and messages became more direct. A woman appeared by my bed. She was so excited! She was rather pushy in personality—she came right up to my pillow— then covered my bed with reams and large bolts of dress fabric.
The fabrics on my bed were all different colours, weights and designs. The woman was in a frenzy, saying she hadn’t been given enough time to sew dresses for Susie to wear every day, and she’d be flat out making what she could. Then she showed me a ring.
It looked like an old wedding ring. She kissed it and placed it on Susie’s finger. I wondered—did she perhaps want Susie to wear this ring on the show? I pulled the bedcovers over my head—I just wanted to sleep—but this little woman wouldn’t leave me alone. I knew the only way I’d get her off my case was to get up and email all this to Susie.
It was icy cold that night in my office and as I sent the email, the time was 3.17 a.m. Thursday, June 14, 2007. I didn’t hear back from Susie over the next few days. I was starting to feel she probably thought she had a nutter on her hands. I dismissed the whole thing, which is sometimes the case with readings.
Filming Susie
When I arrived for the filming of the first show, I was ushered into the make-up room. There was Susie in the main chair having her hair and make-up done by Sherryl, the make-up artist.
After our usual excited hellos, she said, ‘There’s the ring!’ She put her hand up in the air and wiggled her fingers.
‘What ring?’ was my reply.
‘Georgina, the ring—the one you told me about!’
I explained that I’d forgotten all about the email. Smiling, Susie grabbed Sherryl’s hand, and said, ‘And this is the other ring—Sherryl’s my best friend, and I gave her the ring she’s wearing.
My mother smuggled it out in the war.’ On Sherryl’s finger was a very large, unusual-shaped natural amber ring. The ring Susie wore was also large, in silver.
She told me her father and had been born in Poland was a holocaust survivor, so the Jewish vibrations were spot on. Her mother was born in Germany of a Polish father and a French mother. Her parents met after the war, and her mother took a silver spoon to a silversmith and had a ring fashioned from it. It would bear her father’s initials, with her mother’s name
engraved on the back.
Susie was just so thrilled with the message. That day she was seeing a dream come true—her very own television show, something she would have loved to share with her parents if they had been alive. Yet through a series of synchronicities she was given the best gift possible—the knowledge that her beloved, dearly departed parents did know of her successes, were so excited and would be with her every step of the day and for weeks to come.
Spirit is indeed grand—they had linked up the vibrations of the Jewish stories, my friend Simon and Susie’s parents’ appearance in my bedroom. But there is one more, fascinating link—Sherryl told me Susie’s mother was a dressmaker.
And upon telling this story to my mother, she smiled and said, ‘Gina, Susie’s mother made the most beautiful dresses.’
‘But how do you know that?’
‘She was a really good customer of ours in the fabric shop we bought after the service station.’
10
Enlightenment Enlightenment
I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled [poets] to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.
Socrates
Life never sits still; there is alway something more to learn. I am a great believer in divine timing, that everything is uniquely driven in Spirit’s time, not our time, and lessons to be learnt will be placed in front of us at the divine time. By allowing yourself to be open to the wonders of the world of Spirit, you will see just how special life can be.
Early in 2006, I had pencilled in late August for a break from work and an overseas trip—where I didn’t know, but I felt sure Spirit would make me aware of where I was to go. I just knew this trip would take me overseas, and that I had something to learn. It was now July, and I had only six weeks before my scheduled vacation and I still hadn’t booked my holiday. The world was out there waiting to be discovered, but I just couldn’t get excited about any holiday destination.
Trudy at the local travel agency made some suggestions. ‘What about Greece?’ she offered, ‘or Egypt, perhaps?’
I was a tough client. Each time I saw her she’d give me more inviting brochures to exotic destinations, telling me to go and have a cuppa and a browse and see if they could be possible holiday options. There was nothing that took my fancy, nothing that made my heart sing or that even caused a stirring within my spirit that this was the trip that was ‘meant to be’.
With the latest brochures in my bag, I went down to the local shopping mall for that cuppa, and to take in a movie. As I passed the local bookstore I had an overwhelming feeling that I should go inside because there was a book I needed to see. I love to read, and it’s not uncommon for me to have two or three books on the go at one time. I often jump from one book and subject to the next as my mood and interest change.
I had a couple of spare minutes before the scheduled movie began, so I followed the internal prompt and went to my favourite section, New Age/Spirituality. Nope, nothing there—read it all or just not interested in what was on offer. Checking my watch, I decided I’d just make the movie if I left now. Turning to walk away, a book literally fell off one of the shelves and rested near my feet.
It was actually a little bit spooky, and as I’ve pointed out to my students, Spirit can and will manipulate books to draw your attention to something you need to learn or know. So I picked it up and scanned through the chapters. There was nothing that leapt out or drew my attention to why I needed to purchase the book, yet I felt compelled to buy it—I knew I was meant to have it.
Reluctantly, I purchased the book and, on returning home that afternoon, placed it on the existing pile of books next to my lounge chair. Each time I tried to read through the numerous pages, it was hard going. I wasn’t really enjoying the rhythm or the content, nevertheless I forged on, page after page, when suddenly a name stood out, as though a bright light surrounded it: Roslyn Bruyere.
It was the first time I had ever come across this person’s name. I was unfamiliar with her and what she was known for. Why was I being drawn to her? I highlighted the name in bright yellow, in case I needed to locate it for some particular reason down the track.
Two days passed and I just couldn’t get her name out of my head, so I decided to do a web search. I just love the convenience we have at our fingertips these days with computer technology. I discovered that she was an internationally acclaimed healer, scientist and medicine woman. This led me to her web page, and bingo!
She just happened to be conducting a three-day workshop in Cincinnati, Ohio, USA, during the period I had planned for my overseas break. It was enticing—the workshop topic would be the Sixth Chakra, Insight. But it was a long way from Sydney, Australia.
I’d need to take the fifteen-hour flight to Los Angeles, then another five-hour flight across to Cincinnati.
I prefer short bursts of travel due to a leg condition, and sitting in confined spaces tends to make me very stiff and I limp off the plane. That’s too far, I thought. Cancel that idea. But it kept niggling at me, it seemed too coincidental—the book falling off the shelf, the name jumping out of the page and the workshop at the same time as my holiday break. It was three prods from Spirit— and three is my magical number. When in doubt, wait for three confirmations, and I’d had three . . . Yet I still wasn’t convinced that was where I should be spending my vacation.
I had a scheduled appointment to visit Master Zhao several days later. Zhao is the most brilliant Chinese qigong health practitioner I have ever met. Electricity projects from his hands when he heals. He is my battery charger—just like when your car battery is running low and you find an alternative source to give it a boost, I have found with the amount of mental energy I use when conducting readings and Dearly Departed sessions, if I do not recharge my own physical battery, I start to feel very tired and run down. So part of my primary health care is a weekly massage with an energetic practitioner, and several times during the year I visit Zhao for an extra-ordinary zapping of his power into my body.
As I lay on his massage table, Zhao systematically started working on my energy field, balancing, healing and restoring the equilibrium. Suddenly my Asian lady guide appeared, standing to the left of the massage table. Petite in stature, dressed in a heavy red and gold brocade outfit, she bowed and moved closer, positioning herself close to the left side of my head. She always appears ageless, her eyes always twinkle, and her smile seems to melt any worry, pain or uncertainty that I may be experiencing in my life.
So I was very surprised that instead of receiving a message of inspiration I was told she would no longer be my spiritual guide, in fact she would be leaving me.
She told me there would be no more access to her as a primary source of wisdom, knowledge and prophecy, and she would be handing over her responsibilities to another spiritual master, who just like she had, would be there to continue the teachings and lessons for my personal development and work on this earth.
Racing through my head was, ‘I hope this is a dream, maybe it’s my imagination’. Yet I knew I was able to analyse her message and reflect on our journey together so what I was experiencing was real.
Years rushed through my head in moments. I recalled when she first appeared to me while I was living in the country and foretold of my connection to come with the ‘Land of the Swords’, the intended mission she had for me to do the work of Spirit and some glimpses into my personal journey.
Now she was leaving me. I had mixed emotions. I was saddened, almost feeling abandoned, that this special relationship we had was now to finish. I lay in silence, aware that Zhao was still working on my body, when out of the corner of my eye, on the right-hand side, appeared a majestic-looking American Indian chief in full ceremonial dress. He was tall, handsome and proud.
It was then that my lady guide moved to position herself next to my left hip, materialising in her hand what to me looke
d like a stick or branch. She passed it over my body towards the chief, who was now standing at my right hip. Simultaneously, he moved what appeared to look like a hollow stick over my body towards my lady’s stick. They positioned the sticks above my navel then they united and turned into live snakes, intertwining into each other’s bodies to form the ‘caduceus’ which I knew was an ancient astrological symbol. I had never witnessed anything as miraculous as this before.
The chief turned to face me, and I could sense his dark brown eyes penetrating my soul. He then muttered these words:
‘Shawnee—White Buffalo.’ And with that they both disappeared.
I lay silently trying to absorb what I had just witnessed and heard.
What did he mean by ‘Shawnee—White Buffalo’? Was he indicating he was from this Native American tribe and White Buffalo was his name? My petite Asian guide had never told me her name, I didn’t need to know. I always knew and felt her presence.
It was not uncommon to receive a visit from her when I was with Master Zhao. Maybe as I lay in what I often felt was like a semi-trance state, as he worked on my body, she was given effortless access to my mind—as I was rested and still. She had never failed me. All her predictions and visions had manifested as she had shown me. I trusted her guidance, knowledge and wisdom unquestionably. Now she was handing me over, not to another Asian guide but rather an American Indian chief! The only information given was the caduceus and the names, Shawnee and White Buffalo.
I knew that the caduceus was associated with the Greek god, Hermes, who was the messenger for the gods and conductor of the dead, and who had the primal power to heal. And I knew the medical profession had adopted the caduceus as their symbol. I was confused though—I had an ancient Greek symbol and a Native American telling me ‘Shawnee—White Buffalo’. What was the link, and how would these connect to my journey ahead?
Dearly Departed Page 6
