A couple weeks ago, I couldn’t stop thinking about Caroline. I’d seen her as a client several years ago – I can’t remember what we had talked about, but how could I forget someone whose name is so similar to mine? So imagine my surprise when a day or so after her face popped into […]
Last Saturday evening, reflecting on my day as I began to write in my gratitude journal, I was profoundly amazed to realize I had experienced something that I hadn’t felt in more than a year. That afternoon, I enjoyed six hours of happiness.
I’m always heartened to learn that science helps to prove the benefits of mediumship. Even though I know my work is valuable, research that validates my feelings empowers me to want to try that much harder to help people connect with their loved ones in spirit.
Miriam was convinced that after her adult son, Brandon, died last year, his spirit had gone to hell. Brandon was an atheist and Miriam, a devout Catholic, was sure her son was lost. What made her ask for a session with me was she had seen my YouTube video where I had said that, upon
Interestingly, I recently spoke with two clients who had, basically, the same question: “Is (my loved one) still suffering?” What’s fascinating to me is whenever that happens – two uniquely similar readings in row – it’s often because spirit has a message for me.
My husband’s daughter, who lives in the States, is an indigo through and through. She’s also a true skeptic. Near the end of their most recent telephone call, Benjamin reported to me later, she asked, “Does Carolyn really believe that she talks to dead people?”
Readings for new clients tend to be gentle sessions, as spirit doesn’t like to surprise people beginning to explore mediumship with jaw-dropping information from the spirit world that might freak them out. But Camilla’s first reading with me was totally unexpected, and almost freaked me out.
An Instagram follower recently sent me this amazing and eye-opening email. With her permission, I’m sharing it with you: “Hey there, and I hope all is well.
Ralph, a former student, telephoned me after a nightmare he has had periodically for several years. It began after something he experienced when he was a member of a soul rescue circle.
A little over four years ago, I swallowed my fear as the theatre lights dimmed, the audience hushed and a spotlight hit me with the force of a speeding train. I was all alone onstage. This was it: I had nowhere to run. Showtime!
