My Life As a Medium Read online

  Her husband telephoned that night and told me that his wife was very upset and that I ought to be locked up, or something worse. I could not tell him that she was betraying the trust shown by her boss when he had given her the job of looking after his financial affairs. She was, quite simply ‘cooking the books’.

  Her husband visited me a year later, to apologize. He told me that she had been found out, and had lost her job. Her employers had decided not to prosecute but the shame had destroyed their marriage and he had asked her to leave. I told him that I had only spent a very short time with his wife, but it had been enough for her to realize that clairvoyants can actually ‘see’ what was happening, and she hadn’t enjoyed the experience.

  ‘What did she actually say to you that evening?’ I asked.

  He sighed, ‘She told me that you had accused her of being a thief and also of being unfaithful to me.’

  I told him that I had not mentioned anything of the kind, and had only told her that she would be in trouble later, through her own actions. Although I knew perfectly well what I was ‘seeing’ I did not tell her this because it would have been unethical to do so. I also told him that their marriage was never mentioned.

  ‘How can you bear to do this job?’ he asked me. ‘Let’s face it, people could twist every word you say if they want to make a point.’

  He was right. Why should I leave myself open to abuse? I loved the healing. I made the decision not to give any more clairvoyant sittings.

  My friends were extremely angry at my having been made a scapegoat and tried to persuade me to carry on as usual and not allow one maladjusted person to affect me in this way. But I was adamant. I argued that I truly did not want this kind of aggravation in my life.

  ‘But you are so good,’ cried one friend. ‘Just look at the help you have given people.’ She indicated the group. ‘Us included. You can’t give it up.’

  ‘I really am sorry but I have made my decision,’ I insisted.

  In many ways I had been delighted to find that I was psychic, as this explained why I had felt so vulnerable all my life. It is the sensitivity and fine-tuning of the personality which makes a good medium and healer. Like the diamond, every facet has to be cut and polished before it can sparkle like a star. The process can be painful, and there are times when one is tempted to opt out. For me this was one of those times. If one particular facet was to remain unpolished, so be it. But, like a number of my resolutions, this was not to be.

  I was having lunch with an acquaintance one day when I ‘saw’ a house with water swirling around it. I asked the man sitting opposite me if he was buying a house.

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I’m looking at one at the moment.’

  I told him about my clairvoyant vision, and he asked me why I was being given this picture.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied, ‘but if you give me a minute I may be able to tell you.’

  I sat quietly for a moment, and then I told him that I could see water pouring down a hill through a ravine, and overflowing into a garden.

  ‘That doesn’t seem possible,’ he said. ‘Although there is a hill and a ravine at the back of the house I’m hoping to buy, it is quite a way from the property, although I must admit that the ravine does curve toward it slightly. In any event, I’ve only ever seen a trickle of water running through to a stream below.’

  ‘Have you ever seen this property in the winter?’ I asked.

  ‘No! My wife and I have spent quite a lot of time in the area but not, I hasten to add, on this particular property.’ He looked puzzled. ‘Are you sure there is a problem?’ he asked.

  ‘Absolutely,’ I replied, and then suggested that he look into the situation, if only for the sake of my reputation. Then added, ‘We’ve been having some pretty foul weather this winter. Perhaps now is the time to have another look before you make your final decision.’

  ‘Betty,’ he said. ‘You do realize that you’re asking me to go all the way to Wales?’

  ‘I still think you should go and take a look,’ I replied.

  When he told his wife about my clairvoyance, she agreed that they should check it out.

  When they arrived, they were horrified to see the front of the property surrounded by water. The ravine was flooded, and there was a lake in what should have been the garden. When they asked around they were told that this happened once or twice every winter and spring. They decided to opt out of the deal.

  They later found a beautiful cottage in Devon, and regularly sent me photographs of the garden. On the back of one they had written, ‘None of this would have been possible without your intervention. We would have lost everything.’

  I was torn, I really didn’t want to give clairvoyance on a regular basis. I preferred to teach others to see clearly for themselves. After much thought I decided that I would only help close friends. It was during one of these sittings that something extraordinary happened.

  I was giving clairvoyance to Charlie, a friend of mine. We had been sitting together for about an hour, when we heard clicking noises coming from the tape recorder. Then we felt an icy draught around our feet, accompanied by the sound of whispering. Neither of us spoke during this time, but just looked at each other in amazement. The phenomenon lasted about ten minutes, then it stopped as suddenly as it had begun. I looked at the tape recorder and said, laughingly, ‘Do you think they’ve left us a message?’

  ‘You are joking, aren’t you?’ my friend replied.

  ‘Yes I am, but I’ll play it back anyway. You never know.’

  As usual there was a lot of interference, and we had great difficulty in hearing the conversation. Then as clear as crystal, a voice said, ‘Charlie, Charlie, I love you.’ I looked at Charlie, and said, ‘It’s for you.’

  He was dumbstruck, ‘That was Elle,’ he said, ‘I don’t believe it, that was Elle.’ Tears were streaming down his face.

  I smiled at him. ‘I know. Nobody could forget her voice.’

  Although we listened to the rest of the tape, that was the only message.

  ‘Betty, how did Elle’s voice get on the tape? I don’t understand,’ he said.

  ‘I have no idea,’ I replied. ‘But it is proof that she has survived.’

  ‘I must confess that I’ve never believed in life after death, until now.’ He sat holding his head in his hands for a moment, then looked up and said, ‘I’ve been feeling guilty about my forthcoming marriage, because I felt I was letting Elle down.’

  ‘Well, I think she has given her approval, otherwise she would not have made the effort to leave the message.’

  ‘Betty, rewind the tape and let’s listen to it again,’ Charlie asked.

  We listened to the tape three times, but the voice of Ellen had disappeared. Although we were both disappointed, nothing could take away the joy of having heard her voice once more.

  When Charlie had gone I thought about his wife and the terrible shock it had been to us all when we heard of her sudden death. It was now three years since that day.

  I was to meet Charlie and his new bride a year later, they were extremely happy. They told me that Elle’s photograph had pride of place in their living room and that they spoke to her often.

  It was at this time that I read an article about a medium in Germany who had received several spirit voices on tape. I was fascinated, and decided to use the tape recorder more frequently.

  Six months later I was giving healing to a man in his forties. Like most of my patients, he fell asleep as soon as I had placed my hands upon him. I woke him when I had finished and asked whether he would like to hear the interference that the energies wrought on the tape. He was very interested, so I began to play it back. At the beginning of the tape was the sound of a man with a terrible hacking cough. My patient turned to me and said, ‘That’s my father, I would know that cough anywhere. He died of emphysema.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I asked.

  ‘Definitely, it was my father.’

  We list
ened to the rest of the tape but there was nothing but the waves of the energies – which sounded like the sea crashing against rocks.

  We tried to listen to the cough again but it had vanished.

  I could not understand why a spirit entity should go to so much trouble to make a recording only to have it wiped out after one hearing. However, although this was a complete mystery, it did not take away the magic.

  Voices were not the only things that were recorded. At various times I heard music, tapping, singing – albeit very faint – a humming sound, a dog barking, a bell ringing. I was never sure what I was going to hear next. I became a tape recorder addict.

  Throughout the whole of these years, the phenomena I had experienced from the beginning were still there and, I must admit, there were times when I thought it was all too much. I could not understand why the spirits were still so active; after all, I had given in long ago. I simply did not have the time to give each individual happening my utmost attention. For instance, I would have liked to be able to pay more attention to the funnel of light in my hall that appeared almost every day. Why was it there? Who were the entities that sometimes appeared inside it? What did they want? I needed an answer to all of these questions. And especially to the most important question of all. Where was it all leading?

  Like the ever-changing faces on the walls I too was changing dramatically. There was a light in my eyes that had not been there before and, for the first time in my life, I was at ease with myself. Although I had never been obsessed by the fear of death, there had obviously been times when I had thought about it, especially when I had been critically ill. Now I no longer looked on death as an end, but simply as a re-birth, mirroring our physical birth. There are people waiting to hug and love you when you finally emerge from the dark birth canal into the light and it is the same when one spins into the dark tunnel and goes toward the light. There we are met by our friends, relatives and our spiritual guides.

  Although I had taught hand analysis, and vitamin and mineral therapy, I had never thought that I would be talking about spiritual matters but had, quite unconsciously, assumed that role. I was asked so many questions that it became unavoidable.

  I must confess that there were times when I had to laugh at my ever-changing role in life, and I asked myself over and over again, where it was all leading?

  I had to leave all my questions in abeyance as the relentless phenomena continued. Whilst healing, my attention was frequently drawn to the limbs of my patients, which were being manipulated by unseen hands. Very often the patient was asleep, but there were times when they themselves drew my attention to this. It was fascinating to watch, and the recipient could actually feel the hands that were controlling the proceedings. There were times when I could see the hands, but I was so drawn to the physical manipulations that my spiritual vision was blocked. It became a regular occurrence for a friend or relative of the patient to feel spirit hands on parts of their own body whilst they sat waiting. It was wonderful in so many ways, for it brought a tremendous amount of laughter to my healing room. Very often, someone would say, ‘I can’t believe this, someone has their hands on my legs.’ When this happened I would receive a diagnosis. At other times people would arrive for healing in groups and were amazed as they watched each other being manipulated simultaneously. They could all feel the hands at work and, at one time, seven people were receiving this treatment. So obviously there were seven spirits working together. It never ceased to amaze me.

  Naturally, stories of this phenomenon spread, so much so that my answering machine simply could not take the strain. In those days they were not as efficient as they are now. Also, the strain on my own energy resources began to take its toll, and the only way I could refresh myself was to spend Sunday morning in bed. What a joy! But something always seemed to interrupt my reverie. One Sunday I heard water trickling down the wall behind my bed. ‘Oh no!’ I thought. ‘A tile must have come off the roof.’ Then, as I listened more intently, the trickle turned into the sound of rushing water, I sat up in bed and looked at the wall behind my bed. It was completely dry. I made my way up into Janet’s bedroom, which was above mine, but there was no water, no leaks of any kind. Still in my dressing gown, I went into the attic. Turning on the light I was able to see that my fears were completely unfounded. I stopped at intervals, as I made my way downstairs, to see if I could still hear the water, but there was nothing. I went back to my bedroom and sat on the bed. The noise had stopped, so I jumped back into bed – but after a few minutes the trickling noise started again and became a gushing sound as though a tap had been turned full on. What on earth did it mean? I was completely nonplussed. I often had some idea of why I was receiving a certain kind of phenomenon, but not this time. Rather irreverently, I played around with the idea that as I was a Piscean, someone was providing water for the two fishes in my star sign. If it were not for my sense of humour, I really do not think I could have put up with the continual interference in my life.

  Then I thought of my father, who had drowned when I was only sixteen. Why did his memory suddenly seem so vivid? He had been dead for over thirty years, and I had not thought about him for a long time. Perhaps that was it! He did not want me to forget him, and he was manifesting the sound of water, as it was so significant at the time of his death. I remember, about six months after his death, waking up and finding him standing by my bed. I screamed and my mother came in and comforted me, assuring me that it was only a bad dream, but I knew otherwise. He was as solid as he had been when he was alive. Thinking about this experience now, I realized that he was just trying to show us that he had survived.

  Although his mother was a brilliant medium the subject was never brought up in our home as my mother was, quite frankly, terrified of the idea.

  I will never really know whether my assumptions about the sounds of water were correct, but it comforts me to think that it was my father, and from that time I promised myself that I would never forget him. As I write these words I can feel his presence.

  This was the first of many such events that I was to experience on my so-called day of rest. Always on a Sunday could have been my theme song!

  I was horrified to find one morning, on waking, that I could not move my body, and that my arms and legs were paralysed. My first thought was ‘don’t panic’, but I did. Immediately, I felt the familiar tingle of energy rushing through my body and then my limbs were alive with ‘pins and needles’. I tried to get out of bed but standing on my feet was agony, so I waited until all the sensations had gone. Eventually my body returned to normal and I was able to walk around freely, although I still felt dizzy and had an ‘out of body’ feeling.

  I decided to tackle the housework – for me a boring, soul-destroying task, but one that ensured that I would stay earthbound. It worked! Nevertheless, the memory of my temporary paralysis still invaded my thoughts at times. ‘Would it happen again?’ I asked myself. Why had it happened? These thoughts and many more were dancing around in my head. I wondered whether the psychic part of my life was damaging my physical body. For the first time ever I was afraid to go to bed that night for fear of what might happen when I woke in the morning. My fears, however, were unfounded.

  Two weeks later, whilst I was meditating, my spiritual teacher spoke to me and explained what had happened.

  ‘When you are in a deep sleep, your mind leaves your body, and, although it is still attached to the physical by an energy umbilical cord, it is free to travel. If the journey has been long, you may awake before the mind has fully returned to the body. That is what happened to you.’

  ‘Supposing the umbilical cord breaks?’ I asked.

  ‘It can only be severed by the total breakdown of the physical body,’ he replied.

  I was delighted by this short explanation, and it laid to rest the fear that I still felt before going to bed.

  At last, everything was falling into place, and it had begun to make such good sense. The realization dawned on me that
it was, in fact, a psychic science, bordering on physics. It was an exciting idea.

  But there was something else that was bothering me. I was working so hard that I seemed to be more out of this world than in it. I decided to have a gathering of the clans, so to speak, friends with like minds who would understand my need to ‘let go’ and earth myself for a few hours. After I had made a few phone calls, the date was set for the following weekend.

  Meanwhile, I had been practising remote viewing. I had an urge, one day, to paint the inside of a circular tin tray with black paint and prop it up on a small table where, in my quieter moments, I would just sit and stare at it. Nothing much happened for about two months, and then one day I saw the tray fill with a white, swirling energy. Within minutes, this had turned into a vortex which fascinated me so much that I lost all sense of time and place. Eventually the vortex opened up, and before me was a tunnel with a light at the end. It was as though I was looking through binoculars. And then, to my amazement, I could see one of the friends I had invited to my party. He was wearing an old dressing gown and worn slippers, and looked thoroughly down at heel. He walked through a door with a cup of tea in his hand. Then the energy evaporated and I was left looking at my black tin tray. I could not believe what I had seen. I knew this man extremely well, and he was one of the best-dressed men in my circle. It was inconceivable that he would walk around indoors looking like a tramp. I decided, for a bit of fun, to bide my time and challenge him with the picture I had received.

  The day of the party arrived, and everyone was having fun. Later, when we were sitting around talking about our lives, I turned to the man and described what I had seen. Everyone laughed, and said that I needed more practice, as it could not possibly have been him.

  ‘You must be joking,’ one friend said. ‘He’s the best-dressed man I know.’ Turning to his wife, she said, jokingly, ‘It’s your duty to defend him.’