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Dolphins, Killer Whales, and Clown Fish

It was to be a surprise. I knew my friend and I were going on vacation but I did not know our destination. Contrary to popular opinion, psychics do not know everything. If we did, wouldn’t we be able to finally silence all those bad psychic jokes before they’re told? Anyway, we arrived at our beautiful hotel in Bermuda, quickly changed into swimsuits, and headed for the ocean under the hot July sun. Renting a sea kayak seemed like fun and we happily paddled away from the line of hotels beside the beaches filled with people. It was ideal, paddling through the warm soothing waves, getting a little exercise away from civilization. After paddling along the coastline for about a half hour, we stopped to catch our breath. Floating on the waves, I could barely see a group of bathers gathered in the shallow water near a hotel beach. I assumed they were taking some type of class. The sun caught a glint of several fins surrounding them, and I realized they were learning to swim with dolphins. It was difficult to exactly see what they were doing because we were well beyond the ropes that designated the open sea. Drifting and dreaming in the open sea, I relaxed without a care in the world. Most people might use the time to contemplate a problem or their future or what they were going to eat for dinner. What does a psychic do? Without telling my friend seated in front of the kayak, I decided to telepathically see if I could communicate with the dolphins, having never done anything like that before. What can I say? This is me. It’s what I do. As we drifted farther out to sea, I began to telepathically send a message from my mind to the dolphins, calling them to me. I focused on simply repeating, “Come here,” without uttering a spoken world. I tried it a few times more. Nothing happened. So much for my remarkable talents. Moments passed and I closed my eyes, enjoying the warm sun. Suddenly a frantic woman in a bathing suit ran from the beach onto a long jetty that jutted into the ocean. She seemed to frenetically be waving her arms and shouting something to us. Were we in danger? Did we do something wrong? She looked so determined. We paddled closer to hear what she was saying. “Go back! Get back!” she shouted, motioning for us to move farther away. Why was she yelling at us? We looked around and found no other boats in sight. We were far away from any ropes bordering the hotel waters. She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, “Go away!” “Why?” My friend shouted. “Because they’re swimming toward you!” Suddenly the waters beside her began to ripple. Dappled by sunlight we began to see shiny gray fins and dolphins arching out of the water in a bee-line toward us. The people in the class were now huddled on the beach, watching. Shocked, my friend turned to me. “They’re coming right toward us. Why would they do that?” “Because I called them?” I sheepishly admitted. The woman stood helplessly watching the dolphins approach. Tourists paid megabucks for this opportunity to swim with these sea creatures. Refocus, I told myself. Refocus. “Go back!” I shouted in my mind to them. “Go back! Please go back!” I held my breath. Slowly, the dolphins turned around and headed back toward the shallow water where people eagerly waited for them. Relieved, the woman trotted back to the beach as we paddled away.

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A Little Brain Surgery, Please

 So what does a psychic do that other people don’t do when they’re walking down a busy sidewalk? She notices people in a completely different way. It’s not by what they’re wearing, or how old they are, or even how they’re walking. She notices them through intuitive impressions without prying OR READING THEIR MINDS. “Wow, that guy’s really worried,” “She doesn’t know how strong she really is,” “What are these two people doing together?” Sometimes, if she’s in a good mood, she almost sees little bubbles overhead like in cartoons telling her what they are feeling in the moment. A couple will walk together and she’s so happy to be with him and he’s totally distracted, or a dog really doesn’t want to go on this walk and is only doing it for his human. Don’t try this in rush hour or at a major sporting event. Psychic overload! Psychics are always being tested. You’re as good as your last Reading. We’re schooled every time we talk, meet or encounter another person. It gets tiring. Sometimes it’s insulting. “Do you pick up anything about me?” “Tell me about me.” “Can I ask you a question?” while you’re trapped getting a mani-pedi. One time a person asked about my professional credentials and experience. At first I was happy to inform him, as he said he was thinking about coming to see me for a Reading. I told him it’s important to ask, or Google, or read about any professional service. Do your homework. But after a minute with this guy, I intuitively knew he was just trying to weasel out some free information. It felt disingenuous, not to mention annoying. Still I answered his questions, even added a little bit of information about him, mostly so he’d leave me alone. That didn’t happen. He kept asking for more information about himself, as if by giving him a full Reading on the spot, I was deemed capable of giving a full Reading to him. I guess he didn’t realize I was psychic. To be fair, for people who are a little wary of seeing someone like me, or curious about knowing more about this kind of work, or are in an immediate desperate situation, I will take time to give them information they need. Not this guy. He kept pushing my patience until I had to stop this intrusion and lack of respect by saying: “Let me ask you, if you need brain surgery, would you ask the brain surgeon to perform a little brain surgery on you, just to see if he was good enough?” Needless to say he suddenly got distracted and went on his way. Sometimes it pays to be a medium – the right words often just channel right out of your mouth.

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The Bird Whisperer

Who Knew?

I’m sitting in a park beside a river, eating a salad and enjoying a magnificent sunset with a friend on a rather warm January evening. Floating a good distance away, like dots on the water, seagulls and ducks go about their early evening ablutions paying no attention to anything on shore: a guy badly plays guitar at another picnic bench, people walk their dogs down a gravel path, children ride their bicycles in the parking lot while my friend and I talk while we eat. In the course of our conversation I quietly say, “They put bacon in my salad. I don’t eat bacon. I wonder if seagulls eat bacon?” At that exact moment, as if on cue, the seagulls feverishly rise from the water and take flight. Ten or twelve of them now circle overhead like an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Ducks frenetically paddle down river toward me while several geese plant themselves like sentinels near our picnic table. We are surrounded by this wild frenzy of feathered friends and I have not even lifted a shred of bacon from my salad. Unnerved by all their flapping, I say out loud to them, “Calm down, alright? Just all of you, calm down.” All of the flying seagulls immediately cease circling. The ducks tread water in the river below us. Geese and seagulls patiently stand at the ready, their tiny eyes never leaving our salads on the table before us. Not to disappoint, I toss the bacon freely toward them, give the remains of my salad to the ducks, and leave the park, checking off another random talent while my feathered friends happily munch away.

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The  “P” Word

I could chart society’s evolution by the manner of behavior toward me. A long time ago, when I would be introduced as a Psychic to just about anyone, people thought I must be an evil alien or freak of nature. Hmmm…actually being a Psychic compels you to be quite the opposite, but that’s another blog. Back then, when I went to a party and someone found out I was a Psychic- descriptive terms like Clairvoyant or Medium were beyond human comprehension – people would openly laugh in my face, make a dumb joke about my talents (neither of which were my favorite party pastime), or would actively not speak or have eye contact with me for the rest of the party. I guess they either didn’t want my ‘evil eye’ or thought I would ‘Read’ their innermost thoughts. I, of course was searching for the food table. I became the most fascinating person at the party without even trying. I could chart society’s evolution by the manner of behavior toward me. As people became more enlightened and educated, clairvoyance was commonly mentioned on nightly news, and TV shows involving mediums and mediumship grew so popular I became less of a pariah and more of a necessary personal accessory – like a favorite bracelet. No longer publicly shunned or derided, I became introduced as “My Psychic, Medium, or Clairvoyant” and treated like a pet rock or ‘Otherworldly Rock Star.’ People assigned any and every extraordinary power to me. I became the most fascinating person at the party without even trying. One evening when on a stage giving a lecture to a large audience, a painting on the wall behind me suddenly crashed to the floor and skidded across the stage. Everyone gasped, except me. I figured whatever held the painting broke from the wall. Simple, right? Try explaining that to a group of believers or astounded non-believers. It gave me Psychic Cred – even though I tried to convince everyone otherwise. Was I the only realist in this group? Presently, I’m treated with genuine respect. There’s still the “Are you an atheist?” or “Tell me something about myself” or “What am I thinking?” people that corner me wherever I go. In the supermarket? The dentist’s office? Really? Most people are now basically knowledgeable about what I do, which is a great relief, since I’m tired of explaining myself. In fact, I dare say that I’m almost mainstream. Even the guy pumping gas is getting his ‘fortune’ read. Recently I pitched a movie script to a development person at a major film company. I mentioned that one of my stories ‘slightly’ incorporated spirituality. At the end of the pitch, I paused. Used to my earlier pariah days I leaned forward and quietly mumbled, “I also work as a Medium.” Clairvoyant was too long a mumble. The development person leaned closer and uttered, “I’m an astrologer.” I guess I finally arrived.