Rivka showed me a picture of a young woman in her twenties. Behind the brightness in her eyes I sensed a numbness in her soul, as if the sparkle in her expression was part of a mask she had grown used to wearing. Rivka placed the colour photograph on my desk, sat back in her chair and asked if I could contact her daughter, Shanna.
I closed my eyes to focus and said a prayer, then asked my guides to help bring Shanna through. I felt a strong male presence step forward chewing a cigar and wearing a sailor’s cap. This can’t be Shanna, I thought, and described to Rivka what I was getting. I never dismiss a spirit that shows up during a reading.
Rivka grinned. “That’s my brother, Harry,” she said. “He owned a small boat and loved to take it out fishing.”
I asked Harry to step aside, then looked again at Shanna’s picture and tried to get a stronger link to her spirit. I whispered her name, concentrated on her name. I felt myself being pulled toward Shanna’s eyes. It seemed as if the girl was staring back at me, wondering what I was doing.
In my mind, Shanna came into a soft focus. Her long, chestnut-coloured hair flowed down her back and she touched a beauty mark on the side of her mouth. She sat in a wicker chair and a violin lay across her lap. She regarded me with a dispassionate expression.
Then she looked over her shoulder. Mounted behind her was an EXIT sign.
Puzzled, I gave Rivka what I was receiving. When I mentioned the sign, she took a deep breath. Six months ago, Shanna had taken her own life, leaving her parents and two older brothers distraught. But Rivka was mystified as to why her daughter came across so quietly, when her life had been anything but peaceful.
“Shanna was so…” Rivka gestured with her hands, searching for the right words. “So wild, so… so out there. And why would she be holding a violin? She hasn’t played it since elementary school. Shanna played loud music, and rode a motorcycle…” She began to cry. “And… she did…”
I handed her the box of tissues I keep on the corner of my desk. In a choked voice, Rivka told me about her daughter’s drinking and her drug habit, and how she hung around with “the wrong people.”
Through this all, Shanna sat quietly and made no move to strengthen the tenuous connection I had with her. In fact, she seemed bored, like she couldn’t wait to leave.
“She didn’t even believe in this,” Rivka said, gazing around my office. “She said, ‘When I’m gone, don’t go to mediums.’” Then Rivka laughed once. “She didn’t believe in psychics or mediums. She used to chastise me for spending money on psychics.”
How ironic, I thought, that a person who didn’t believe in mediums would then present herself to me in spirit.
Perceiving my thoughts, Shanna shook her head, then faded from my mind until all I saw were her brown, inquisitive eyes. Then they faded, too, and I said a quick blessing for her to find peace.
Then Harry came back with his boat to give Rivka some information about other family matters. He brought through Rivka’s father, and at the end of our session, he baited a fishing pole and with a quick wave, sailed off.
Rivka sat still and gazed at her hands, then slowly stood and put on her jacket. I asked her how she felt.
“Maybe Shanna was right,” she said emotionlessly. “I don’t think I’ll go to mediums anymore,” she said.
“That’s your decision,” I said walking her to the door. “But remember, you don’t need me to talk to Shanna anytime. Just think of her. She hears your thoughts.”
After Rivka left, I sat in my office and meditated for a few minutes to clear Shanna’s energy from my space. Her eyes flashed in my mind for an instant, and I wondered what spirits saw when they looked at me from the other side of life. Previous experience has taught me that spirit doesn’t really “see” because energy can’t see – instead, it senses our light, the living energy of our soul. But when spirit manifests into a form that I can perceive and describe to a client – does that become a two-way street? Just as I see them with my third eye, can they see me – and their loved ones – with spirit eyes?
Speaking with spirit will always be a two-way street, I thought. If we are open to the experience, we can hear them, just as they hear us. And just as we can see our loved ones in spirit in our memories, perhaps in their own unique way, they continue to watch over us.
If you have any questions or comments on this subject or on any other spiritual matter, feel free to write me at firstname.lastname@example.org. And please visit me again!