I remembered being somewhat surprised, and I think I chuckled, as she was standing in front of a crucifix—it had been taken in church while she was doing the Sunday bible reading.
I looked at Mr Charles, and for the first time he was smiling.
He knew that day he had made contact with his special friend. I received a phone call the next day asking if I would care to visit his property out of town. Unfortunately, my schedule was jam-packed— but I did promise to visit when I returned to his country.
The return trip
The plane wheels hit the tarmac, and once again I was back in my favourite Asian city, Kuala Lumpur. The heat hits your face when you leave the airconditioned comfort of the airport lounge. I kept my promise, and was able to meet up with Mr Charles and his partner—this time I would actually holiday at their rural estate and also their villa, with some twenty minutes drive between the two.
My favourite colour is green, and driving through groves of palm trees, coconuts and tropical fruits I felt like I was in heaven—but there was more to this property than Mr Charles was to know.
Years before while living in country New South Wales I had a flash of moving forward in time to a place that was indeed Mr Charles’s estate, right down to the fish pond, the wonderful exposed wood beams in the house, to the verandas that gave a 360-degree view of the panoramic hills. The detail was fine-tuned and therefore proof. Yet Mr Charles hadn’t even owned the property back then.
Looking back now, I can see our past karmic ties were being propelled into the future—once again we would meet in different circumstances to aid the development of our souls’ progression.
I had a couple of glorious days. Guests came and went. One night we had retired to sit outside to enjoy the evening breeze and take in the majestic garden that overlooked the valleys, and I had a secret thought to myself. What a mixed group we were—for there were Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, a Catholic Archbishop and a psychic! Now where would you ever get that kind of combination?
The days passed quickly and we transferred to the villa—an impressive mansion surrounded with tropical trees and plants. At night-time, the city lights below twinkled from my balcony. With all of its beauty, the energy in the house was overwhelmingly sad.
Later I discovered this was where Mrs Richards had been murdered, and residual energy of the event had been trapped in the walls and in the possessions contained in the house. I recommended that to relieve the house of these unwanted energies, they sage or smudge the whole building—this would allow the energies to lift and move on, much like when you have a bath and the dirt is washed away. Sometimes it’s necessary to ‘clean’ the energy in buildings and residences.
On returning home I sent a large parcel of sage sticks to Mr Charles with instructions on how to use them. You simply hold one stick at a time in your hand, light the dried sage and rotate it in a counterclockwise direction, allowing the smoke that emits from the leaves to penetrate the surroundings. I actually love the strong odour of burning sage, and sometimes it’s necessary that I sage my own home if I feel a client has brought in a negative presence or when working in haunted or spiritually dark places.
I don’t know how my neighbours feel about this strong odour.
Several adjoining neighbours have told me, ‘We always know when you’re awake, Georgina—we can smell the incense. It fills the whole corridor!’
Knowing this and that the smell of sage is rather overpowering, I wait until everyone appears to be asleep before I start my ritual.
As I move around the apartment, I send a silent prayer of thanks to the Native American indians for their wisdom of teaching the spiritual qualities of sage and the benefits this has brought to mankind.
Mr Charles’s life dramatically changed after his reading—his depression lifted and he excitedly shared with me what he had put in place based on Mrs Richard’s message to him. The future looked bright for those whose lives Mr Charles would touch through Mrs Richards’s memory and wishes. Although her death was at the hands of destruction, her legacy would be felt through many generations to come—she lives on in the lives she touches. On my first night at Mr Charles’s estate Mrs Richards appeared to me—she looked radiant. I could feel her presence in each part of the property—she had found her peace in the world of Spirit, and peace was upon those she loved.
24
Lost souls
In a universe of love there can be no heaven which tolerates a chamber of horrors.
John A.T. Robinson
The paranormal, ghostly encounters and spiritual presences have never frightened me—it’s like breathing, a basic instinct of survival of life after death. However, my thoughts changed a couple of years ago when a national Australian radio show asked me to be the psychic medium as they conducted a live broadcast and séance from a well-known jail, said to be one of the most haunted places in the country. To be totally frank, I thought, ‘Here we go again, another Friday the thirteenth media prank.’
I packed my spiritual protection kit, which contains holy water, sandalwood oil, a sage smudge stick, matches and coarse rock salt, and I wore a crucifix and my Spirit of God amethyst pendant for psychic protection. An amethyst crystal is a superb crystal for psychically protecting your auric field and warding off evil intent.
As I travelled the two hours up the north coast with Sonja from the radio station, we were talking too much, laughing about the radio stunt, and subsequently lost our way, realising we wouldn’t make the 7 p.m. radio broadcast start. Finally arriving at the jail, the transmission was already underway. The magazine I write for had a photographer waiting for some spooky photo opportunities to go alongside the story I was to write about the night’s events, so I was rushed into posing in the downstairs cells, lying on wire bed bases, behind bars—anything that would portray the austere living circumstances for the past tenants.
I made one crucial mistake—I didn’t apply my sandalwood oil or do my psychic ritual for protecting my aura before going into the jail. Yes, I was wearing my crucifix, which under ordinary circumstances would be enough; but that night I was entering an area known to have residual energy of the darkest kind. Just like a deep-sea diver wears a wet suit for protection against the extreme temperatures, so too I would need additional psychic protective tools to safeguard my own energy field. Leaving the photographer I had just five minutes to walk up the narrow winding iron staircase to the top landing and the commencement of the next floor of cells where I would be interviewed by the radio hosts as to what we could expect that night.
The whole team was so psyched up they were making ghostly noises, jumping out from dark corners, scaring themselves—what a combination of overactive minds! ‘Georgina, we need you in this cell. We’re going live in one minute. Get your butt in here now,’ my radio hosts called out. As soon as I entered the first set of cells, the atmosphere was icy cold compared to just outside the door.
Then I felt a presence from behind. Whatever it was held my neck, and I felt intense pain in my buttocks. I doubled up in pain and was overcome with sheer fear and a sense of hopelessness. I started to vomit and choke.
Rushing past the radio crew, looking for an escape, I had to manoeuvre myself down the stairs and find the exit to fresh air as quickly as I could. Even then, I still couldn’t throw the ghostly presence away. I knew the only way was to light the large sage stick I had in my protection kit. As the smell of sage circled my body, I felt calmness and clarity and I was once again at peace.
The spirit energies had left.
Meanwhile the crew had found the public relations consultant for the jail who subsequently went back to her office to research which tenant had been in that particular cell. The news was bleak.
I had entered the death cell of Charles Hines, who was hanged in 1897 for raping his stepdaughter.
I came to realise the vibrations I had tapped into were that of the victim. I had walked into a spiritual hellhole. Hines’s residual energy of evil de
eds had become entrapped in the cellular structure of the walls, waiting for the next ‘victim’ to walk into his vibrational field, so he could affix his tentacles of negative energy upon them. The experience brought home to me that no matter how skilled, informed and trained you are in psychic protection, unless you do protect yourself, unhelpful spirits can and will find ways of manipulating energy—like a psychic vampire—to draw attention to themselves.
Some souls never rest, they are always looking for ways of connecting to the physical plane; perhaps seeking acceptance of their past wrongs in order to be set free. Unfortunately, some of these lost souls will never find resolution for their wrongful deeds and continually wander in energy fields disbelieving they’re dead.
They seek someone who can move them forward towards the light; someone to help them cross over into the afterlife where they can heal and make penance for their wrongful doings. They will eventually return in another life form to understand and learn the consequences of their actions. Fortunately, there exist people in the psychic field who are skilled practitioners in ‘soul retrieval’, assisting such tormented souls to cross over. This is a specialist field and should not be attempted without skilled knowledge and training, after all you are dealing with the ‘dark’ side of life.
25
From tragedy to triumph From tragedy to triumph
It’s not what happens to you in life; it’s what you do when it happens that makes the difference.
Ken Marslew, Enough is Enough
One thing I can guarantee, we will all be subjected to some form of grief in our lifetime. How then do we deal with these dark chapters, is there a unique, special way of pushing through the pain barrier?
My youngest child celebrated his first birthday in 1986, and amidst the drought and hardship of the land, I felt blessed to see him move forward into his second year. This is not the case for others—reality hit home that some lives are cut short when in the same year a murderer took the life of beauty queen Anita Cobby.
Anita was on her way home after dining with several friends, alighting from the train at Blacktown in Sydney, when she was abducted, robbed, raped and brutally murdered. It was a case that was in the media for years—even after the trial—and was later made into a book, which I recall reading in one night.
The murderer’s childhoods were splashed in front of the public—they had come from abusive, dysfunctional families, they were tormented souls. Many years later, Anita’s parents, who were devout Christians, went on to form a support group for victims of crime based on forgiveness and Christian foundations.
Eight years later, Ken Marslew’s son Michael was shot in a robbery at the local pizza shop where he worked part-time. I remember tears fell down my face as I watched a television program many years later that showed Ken visiting the correctional centre where his son’s murderer was imprisoned. He chose that day to meet the man and openly forgive him for taking the life of his beloved son. It was one of those moments of television I will never forget, both the father and the murderer crying—the emotions were raw.
In Ken’s words, taken from his website for Enough is Enough:
The murder of my son in 1994, I saw the way that people were being treated by ‘the system’—by that I mean by the legal system, the government, the judiciary and the broader public. I saw a real need for a holistic approach to dealing with the ills of society. Did you know that there are four-and-a-half times more words in the dictionary to describe things negatively than there are positively? Enough is Enough is about teaching people that when you change the way you look at the world, the world begins to change. We firmly believe you can change adversity into advantage, bitter into better and conflict into congruency.
History has demonstrated that often through the death of someone famous, there is a chain reaction among the population. The death of Princess Diana brought the British people together—a country united in grief. There was a similar impact on society with the assassinations of Gandhi and Martin Luther King. After the 9/11 terrorism attacks, I noticed that among clients, associates and friends there seemed to be an ongoing wave of internal stocktaking.
Where once these people focused on advancement, career escalation and complaining of not having enough, suddenly there existed a realisation—a new vision through the impact of this tragedy. They came to cherish what was truly the most important thing in their lives—the love of family and friends.
I recall a male client of mine, in his mid-forties, seeking a consultation after this event. The knowledge that he had become a work-obsessed executive with little time for his wife and children was burning him up. He realised his children had grown up before his eyes and he didn’t even know which were their favourite TV shows and the names of their friends.
His reading confirmed to me that the life changes he was considering would be successful. That evening he called a family conference, resulting in a decision that he would leave his high pressure job and follow his personal dream of developing an internet business from a home office. He would then have time for the things he and the family craved for—time! Several years passed and I heard from an associate that he has never looked back.
I have come to realise through Dearly Departed readings that there appears to be a greater plan in the Spiritual realms. Souls are chosen—or perhaps they have chosen themselves—to be ‘sacrificial lambs’, to return to this life with a particular mission, a task that will greatly change the structure of how society thinks and acts. Their deaths have in fact been ‘gifts’ to humankind to instigate greater change—and for this I thank them!
26
Life beyond the physical world Life beyond the physical world
When I consider the hour that will come In which my spirit will be one with God It is then that my joy will be complete It is then that I will see the whole creation All of its secrets will be revealed to me And my knowledge will be perfect The galaxies will be at arm’s distance I will touch the stars with my bare hands The beauty of every flower, mountain and valley No longer will be a secret And every creature will reveal to me The immense, awe-inspiring world Created by God’s loving hand And so I stroll on the bottom of the oceans Ride a comet through a million stars Or watch a flower grow I will look in the eyes of other angels To meet in them the same beatitude In which my spirit rejoices.
Unknown
I liken Spirit to a mother who tells her children she has eyes in the back of her head. How does she know her children are up to mischief? She’s using her well-honed skills of knowing them ‘oh so well’.
So too our dearly departeds know us very well. They will line up amazing synchronicities to pass on messages of love and hope and, in some cases, to put to rest unsolved questions concerning their passing. They orchestrate meetings and divine timing when someone or something can be used as a vessel or a tool, a voice to be an instrument from the life beyond to the physical world.
Nothing is impossible as far as they’re concerned.
I’ve been told by many clients after the passing of someone close that they’ve have episodes of lights going on and off by themselves, and even television sets switching on unaided.
We take for granted how frequently we use our telephone, allowing us to keep in touch with significant others. Perhaps it’s this same vibrational frequency and carefree attitude that Spirit see as a portal from their world to ours—a magnetic pull, a manipulation of molecules and energy to transport their inner dialogue to the living. Similar to a dog who can hear a whistle inaudible to human hearing yet profoundly clear to the vibrational frequency of the dog’s ears, we too can learn to raise our energy vibrations and tap into the world of Spirit communication; the world of the psychic medium.
Given that radio is made up of frequency waves, it seems a natural communication tool that the ‘other side’ would be drawn to use as a vehicle to ‘tune into’ to disseminate their messages. We don’t see radio frequencies or waves, yet we trust that when we switch on the radio and
adjust the dial to our favourite radio station, we will be instantly connected to the world of mass media— music, the latest celebrity gossip, weather forecasts brought to you by a DJ’s voice which is propelled down a microphone into frequencies that are played into your radio band. This, I sense, is how Spirit link their connection to the living. All they need is for you to believe, be observant and be open to receiving.
Spirit is practical—they use signs, movies, songs, feelings, smells, sounds, even taste or a memory to get their cryptic messages across. I have learnt not to question what is given, just to say or write it down and allow the natural flow of information to come through. Once you start to analyse what is given, you lose the spontaneity or free flow of information. This is similar to the feeling of being interrupted when you’re in the middle of a conversation and you lose your train of thought.
Learning to be calm and relaxed aids the information flow.
Having a faith in what I believe coupled with a dash of patience, I have learnt to stay focused. This isn’t an easy task when you’re working on live television or radio, where you may well be interviewed by a sceptic reporter or a DJ who is hell-bent on keeping his reputation as a shock jock intact by trying to discredit your gift and abilities.
Life is a school and I’m constantly challenged by Spirit to learn, investigate and understand how they wish to use my abilities for the glorification of their lives. It hasn’t been easy. In the past I have become unravelled, frazzled and hard on myself, believing
I could have done more to hone my craft. My mother taught me to close my eyes when doing a psychic reading so as not to be distracted by outside influences, but this isn’t a good look while working on television, so slowly I’ve had to retrain myself to work in a different manner. Those closest to me have commented that they know when I’m ‘working’ as I seem to get a glazed look in my eyes!
Dearly Departed Page 13
