Book 1, Chapter 1 - “I don't Want to Believe!”

‍“…in a tree by the brook there's a songbird who sings
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven…”

Stairway to Heaven, Led Zeppelin

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8-15-2004

‘‘He is here,” she declared.

I sat there motionless, staring at this middle-aged woman who had just told me that she could talk to spirits. More specifically, she claimed that she could hear, see, speak to, feel, and act as a messenger between the living and the dead.

“Who is here?” I asked.
“A boy,” she replied cautiously.
“Describe him,” I commanded doubtfully.
“Ten years old, hazel eyes, a mixture of brown and blonde hair, deep smile,” she relayed carefully.
“He is tall for his age,” she stated, and then more pause ensued.

I glanced nervously toward Christine, my wife of twelve years, who had suffered the loss of our only child. Her face was blank, intensely listening and fully focused on the spiritual lady. You couldn’t detect any emotions on her face as if she was just an observer of a parade of events at that moment.

For forty days and nights, she had cried with her eyes. When the tears evaporated, she cried with her heart, and the depression settled in.

The loss of a child is not a loss that anyone should endure. Yet, we had been awarded that ultimate punishment of a soul.

“He is motioning toward his lips as if he wants me to get his words out precisely as they come to him.” , the messenger described.

*****
DEEP IN MY THOUGHTS, I HEAR YOUR VOICE
IN MY DREAM OF LIGHTS, I SEEK YOUR EYES
WRAPPED AROUND MY HEART, I HOLD ONTO YOUR HANDS
IN SEARCH OF YOUR TOMORROW, I LET GO OF MY PAST

An hour earlier, the session had started very differently.

I stared at her, then looked at Christine.
The Messenger was uncomfortable. I didn’t trust her, and she knew it. I made her uneasy.

All my life, I had equated those claiming to speak to the other world to charlatans exploiting the uneducated and poor folks that needed to find a ray of hope to hang on to, but here I was now face to face with one.

I was here to please Christine.

She wanted me in this room with “her messenger” and I was here to support her.

Not exactly true…I needed a ray of hope to hang on.

The Messenger felt the negative energy and that bothered her… .

How could I believe in such power?
How could she expect me to believe in her?

“Session 1, August 15th. In search of Isaac’s sole.”

She tried to break the ice.
“I was brought up as a Catholic you know.
Yup, born and raised in Queens.
I was raised by Italian immigrant parents.”

She stopped for just a moment, looked down, then turned around and stared into my eyes. She demanded my attention and was going to receive it.

“Even as a child I felt the power to interact with the other side.
It wasn’t easy. I first felt it when I was four. Saw the shadows all over my bedroom.

Friendly ones, they followed me, they gestured and talked to me but only me not others with me or my family.

They weren’t scary but I had no interest in them either. I didn’t understand their purpose and even worse, I disliked their attention toward me.

Every time I passed by one of them, the shadow would smile or wink at me. I wasn’t scared but I was annoyed, so I ignored them."

She paused, turned away and took a few steps toward the kitchen. Then stopped, turned around, looked directly toward me but passed me and continued.

“One day, my best friend drowned in the Hudson River. We were young, brave and stupid. Jacky and I decided to swim across. No, we weren’t the greatest of swimmers, but it was hot and we wanted to cool off.

After just a few minutes of giggling and laughter near the shore, despite my protests, Jacky swam further into the river and the force of the water took her young and skinny body away. Her corpse was recovered the next day two miles downstream.

That night, while crying in bed, I felt a hand touched my shoulder, but no one was there. At least, no one living.

It was her – Jacky – that came and tried to console me. She made me understand that it was OK to communicate with her, with them, all of them, all those shadows.

She has been with me ever since, every day when I get up and sometimes in my dreams with her big smile, ready to guide me and protect me.”

The messenger certainly had my attention.
I had read someplace that to demand attention in a conversation one has to focus on the other person’s left eye when making eye contact. So, I did.

“How old were you when you started to practice your power?” I inquired.

“About forty,” she replied almost shyly.

“But you said that you knew you had this power since you were a child,” I challenged her.

“Yes, but I didn’t want to practice. My grandmother had the same gift and I saw how this power made life difficult for her. So, I was hesitant.”

“What was difficult about your grandmother’s life?”

“She was lonely, an outcast and on her own as many who knew that she understood the afterlife thought of her as a witch. We are talking 1930’s and like now, back then there was low tolerance among Catholics for Medians.”

“So, what did you do for living all those years?”

“I was a legal secretary, I managed a Law firm, I worked was as an information analyst in Newark, New Jersey. For the most part, I lived a normal life: worked, dated, married and had children.”

“So, why such a drastic career change after all these years?
Why did you start at the age of forty?” I asked earnestly.

“Because the spirits were visiting me on a regular basis from the other side. They all had stories to tell, loved ones to connect with, misunderstandings to clarify, or invoking my help to solve life puzzles.” I noticed a tear well up in her right eye.

“Then seven years ago, I left a comfortable life, and came out of the closet. I freed myself from the constant struggle of holding on to so much for so many of them.”

“Them?”

“Yes – the spirits. But you know, I always knew one day I had to do this, to do it out in public help people and do it so professionally. All those years I never stopped practicing but didn’t share the results with anyone.

This whole thing really did put a strain on my belief system as I was raised as a Catholic. I had to open up to new ideas.

One of the most important things for you to understand is that when we are in a session, a lot of information coming out of my mouth are from the passed loved ones … your passed loved ones. I am simply telling you what I am told, what I am gestured, permitted to express. I am their channel and I don’t always have control of what I say and how I say it.”

There she said it: my passed loved ones.

My passed loved ones.

One doesn’t expect to discuss the death of loved ones with a total stranger especially one that claims she is in touch with the “other side.”

Her eyes focused on me like darts about to hit the dartboard.

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*** Please go to Chapter 2 using the link below

https://www.myfreshperspectives.com/posts/the-three-kings-book-1-chapter-2-who-is-to-blame

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