Pardon me as I shat my pantaloons! (My first psychic reading)

Untitled design-6I ALWAYS tell clients what to expect prior to their first intuitive/psychic consultation with me. Why? I have had some very strange things happen during body/energy work, with almost none being more bizarre than the first psychic reading I had. (The strangest thing I have ever witnessed involved the smiting of a tuning fork and the practitioner howling like a wolf. I wish I were kidding you. I am not.)

So what was this odd encounter that has profoundly shaped the manner in which I conduct my business? Well, sit back, kick ya feet up, and grab a cold one. It is comical now, but at the time, it rattled my cage. When I began this profession, I swore that no one would ever have that experience with me.

At the age of 25, I was ravaged by the grief of my dear Granny’s unexpected death. I was a dithering mess of tears and Oreos-all I could do was cry, stuff my face, and pine for Granny. I had always believed Spirit communication was possible, but couldn’t do it for myself at that time. I received a qualified referral to a well known, reputable psychic here in Indy. He had been reading energy  since dinosaurs were flying around, so I felt safe. Until I walked in his door.

He appeared sane enough. I was jittery as the dickens, unsure of what would I would see or hear,  yet eager at the same time. I wanted, needed, to talk to Granny. Despite this man’s benign facade and welcoming smile, the primal African masks bedecking his abode gave me a bad case of the willie nillies. Peering anxiously about, I followed him into his kitchen and perched on the edge of my seat at the kitchen table. More of those damn masks staring at me from the kitchen walls as well.

I reminded myself that I was wearing big girl panties. I could do this.

I almost had myself convinced until he went into a trance and started mumbling like he was in the throes of a psychotic break. He droned name after name, like he was inciting these individuals to either help him during his session or maybe bring him his favorite psych med. The front door was so enticing-I did seriously almost bolt out the door. Then he snapped out of it.

It was going…um, ok…. for a while, then he starts looking up into the air and conversing with someone. “Whhaaatt? What in the hell is he doing now?”, I asked myself, once again gazing with longing at the front door. But I calmed down, and the reading proceeded.

I had almost lost that feeling of “I will shat my pantaloons if I don’t scram” when he pronounced,” There is someone standing behind you.” AHHHH! WTF? Apparently it was Granny. Cautiously, I peeked behind my chair. Phew! I couldn’t see anyone! Don’t know why that wigged me out-not like Granny was going to be standing there with a sheet draped over her head like one of the ghosts on Scooby Doo.

I wanted to kiss the sidewalk leading to my car by the time it ended. Good gravy, I hadn’t expected all that!

My clients know what to expect during their times with me. I encourage them to tell me if anything I do frightens them, or they simply don’t understand what I am doing. Energy work of any kind should be therapeutic, not make it necessary to change trousers.

 

 

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