Sitting at the dining room table, my back to the doorway I hear my name called. Odd, because I know I am the only one home. Turning to see who it is, I find no one there. What on earth? The time I wet the bed and Mom said I was not a baby anymore and that at eight years old I was too old to be bedwetting. I had seen something in the room and she just dismissed me mumbling that I was always making up wild stories. None of us can deny the time the front door slammed shut in the middle of the night after grandpa had locked and bolted it before going to bed. It had to be Dad visiting. When he was alive, he used to come home from work, walk around the house making certain everything was OK and came in. Perhaps the door had slipped out of his fingers as he closed it?

Children should be seen and not heard, how many times had I heard that growing up or when I tried to tell Mom about what I had seen or how I just knew things. She always told me to shush. I am starting to believe that Mom is actually scared of me so I will have to stop telling her stuff, I think maybe it will be best if I just don’t tell anyone anymore. If I do not, then maybe Mom will love me as much as she does Tracey.

Looking back, I understand now that that was how I unconsciously made decisions. Mom was just doing the best with what she knew and understood from her perspective. What I was experiencing as a child was beyond what she understood and when faced with the unknown, we exhibit fear. My curiosity could not be silenced forever, because with my first mid-life crisis I began to renew my interest in the unexplainable. Meditation became part of my daily life as did going to breakfasts where the speaker explained how our soul and angels send us messages in our dreams. I booked sessions with Intuitive’s and Reiki healers fascinated by what they saw or heard for me. I also spent an entire year and a bit with a soul coach navigating the dark spaces within; shining light on them to find that the monsters in the dark were actually just the towel hanging over the bathroom door - not nearly as scary as I had led myself to believe.

Slowly I started to hear messages, in the words on the pages of a book, the lyrics of a song playing on the radio or just a snippet of an eavesdropped conversation. I saw as well, “Where is that old man I saw in your kitchen?” I asked. “I live alone,” the response. Instead of embracing what I was opening to, the old fears began to surface, and I began to close. Justifying it to myself, saying: I am going to work as an Engineer now, none of this fluffy stuff because these men will say that I am away with the fairies and I will never get promoted.

The Universe clearly has plans and its own timetable because I eventually got booted out of Engineering, not once but twice, deciding it was time for me to come home and get down to my real work. And then it happened, completely out of the blue. My teacher asked me to take the class showing the ladies how to conduct a full Kinesiology balance while she ran some errands. Without understanding why it was so; I was particularly interested in balancing the one lady. Halfway through I started crying and an overwhelming feeling of unconditional love enveloped my body. I explained to the young woman that the emotions were not mine but rather those of her mother who had recently passed. She was crying because she was just so happy to be sharing this time with her daughter again. We managed to finish the balance and afterwards I went outside to ground myself. A soft rain began to fall, and the feeling of unconditional love once again overcame me. This time I knew it was her Mom saying thank you.

I tell this story over and over because it was in this moment that my fears around this dropped away, as if they all packed their bags made their way down out of my body and into the grass upon below. The hollow space they left behind quickly filled with courage. My soul knew this was going to happen because I permitted it despite the ladies being a different culture. Their honouring of this moment gave me the permission to allow my vulnerability to be exposed and my gifts to be seen.

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