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Is Being Psychic Contagious?
Yes, being psychic is contagious, though not many people will admit it. I’ve seen it happen over the years.
Everybody is born psychic. It’s called having a sixth sense.
As we grow, our other senses come into play: sight, hearing, smelling,
tasting, and touch. The sixth sense, the ESP, extrasensory perception,
is sometimes elusive. I think children have better access to it, but as
they grow and move into our various local societies, those impressions
are discouraged or, at least, not encouraged.
How often do you hear of kids who have imaginary friends?
When they get old enough, those friends disappear or are encouraged to
disappear by well-meaning older people.
That was real. Not imaginary.
I don’t remember having imaginary friends, but who is to
know? Maybe I did. Anybody in my life who might have known about it is
gone now. I was a kid and can’t quite remember all the stuff that went
on when I was younger.
The idea that being psychic is contagious is different.
People don’t talk about it much, but it makes sense. Somewhere along the
line, I remember Ram Dass saying to get psychic hang around psychic
people. Either he said it, or Wayne Dyer did. Both are good folk to
read, and although they don’t openly claim to be psychic and are more
spiritual in teaching, they are good writers to read.
The thing about being psychic is to be sensitive. To what?
Well, to everything. I found it was a journey that included moving
spiritually. Maybe it will be the same for you too.
I have a friend whose grandmother had the gift. People were
afraid of it then as they are now. What manner of information can be
received along that sixth sense? All sorts.
For myself, it is helpful when I get down in the dumps. I
could see where having access to a friend growing up would be fun.
Having a spirit guide is fun, too.
In the beginning, I worked to be psychic. A few oddball
incidents in my childhood and early adulthood might have been called
psychic experiences or laughed off as coincidences.
It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I had a moment that
occurred between being awake and being asleep. It’s never happened since
then, well, once, but I thought I saw my grandmother across the room
looking at my calendar that hung on the wall. I squeezed my eyes shut
and opened them again, only to still see her. She had brown hair in a
ponytail. When I closed my eyes a second time and opened them again, she
was gone. She didn’t look like my grandmother, who had white hair and
who had been dead for many years. But, somehow, I knew in my heart that
it was my grandmother.
In the morning, I told my mother about my dream, expecting
her to say I’d probably eaten something the previous evening that didn’t
agree with me. It’s what she always said when I had a bad or unsettling
dream. But she surprised me and said she figured that was my
grandmother. That’s when she told me of all the instances through the
years that Grandma had been able to see things and to know of things she
had no way of knowing.
One was that she would telephone Mom sometimes and, without
even saying hello, would instead ask Mom what was wrong. She knew when
my grandfather had crashed his plane at an airfield in Rhode Island,
even before the tower knew about it. He walked away with no scratches.
I can remember grieving so deeply for her. It was unusual
even for me. Other family members had passed during the 30 years I
grieved for her, and eventually, after they had died, I did not grieve
for them so horribly. I can remember driving home from work and missing
her so much that I burst into tears. Was that a sign? I don’t know. I’ve
never asked anyone, but not long after I learned to channel, she came
to talk to me. That was the day I stopped grieving for her. Everything
was all right.
It is that cessation of my own grieving process that I want
to share with others. Folks on the other side are okay. They are happy.
They are interested in life. It’s like one spirit guide named Emmanuel
said once, “Dying is like waking up from a nap.”
I’ve never thought about it this way. It took me to become a
psychic to experience the proof of it to my own satisfaction that I was
able to begin healing from a death. Don’t get me wrong. I still mourn
the folks in my life who pass on, but the mourning period does not
linger for 30 years.
Someone in Spirit just said to me, “There really is a rainbow at the end of it.”
Maybe becoming psychic is more like learning to draw.
The
drawing was there all along. You, the new artist, just need to learn to
see a little bit differently. Instead of looking at a landscape of
trees and thinking, “Oh, they look like lots of little broccoli standing up.”
And then drawing the trees to look like broccoli, you begin to see the
lines and shadows around the trees, seeking instead a different way of
seeing.
Being psychic is just being open to more information. It
doesn’t always come in as words in your ears. The other day, I walked by
my cup of coffee. It was on the kitchen counter.
There wasn’t anything particularly interesting about it, but I thought to myself, “Would it help to put some coffee into my houseplants that aren’t doing well?”
Then, I moved on to other things. The thought ended there. It was just
that. I didn’t think about it anymore. I was busy and had stuff to do.
The next day, I was channel surfing on YouTube. One of the
suggested videos for me to look at was a guy who prepared a solution
containing honey, aloe, and coffee to water plants that needed some
help. Even I, who is an openly declared psychic, was surprised. Imagine
that.
If you are interested in the YouTube channel, it is called Happiness Garden.
Thanks for reading. Being psychic is not unusual, and hanging
around with other psychics is definitely easier. At least when you
speak to them of the odd stuff that happens in your life, they will say,
“Yes, seeing butterflies in the garden who remind you of your mother could mean she is watching over you.”
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