I was only 16, yet I was intensely curious about the spiritual realm. A second cousin on my father’s side, Lyn, smiled shyly when I requested a reading. She took my hand with her tender, slim fingers. She had platinum blond hair, freckles and fair skin. She was a kind, pretty and gentle woman. In the course of some family gathering, someone had prompted with great urgency, “Lyn’s giving palm readings in the restroom. Go see her!” So I did. Only later in life would I come to appreciate the contribution of that brief encounter to my psychic development.
Cousin Lyn told me things about my future — very specific predictions, one after another. Then she shook her head, stating, “I can’t see anymore. It’s all gone black.” She seemed apprehensive; still, she kept me there a few minutes longer. All the other women had since left the room. Lyn spoke to me like a benevolent grandmother to a neophyte.
“I don’t tell this to everyone,” she said, “but I don’t really need the palm to read; I hold the hand to have a connection to the person. I see pictures behind people’s heads. It’s like a movie — like little films going on. It’s a gift from God, do you hear me? I never ever charge for it.”
She added to her frank admonitions. “I don’t tell them anything really negative. I see my job not so much to warn people, but to prepare them for what’s to happen — do you know what I mean?” I nodded compliantly. “Just remember: three fingers pointing out, three fingers point back; but the good that you do multiplies and returns to you tenfold.”
Lyn was the real deal. She was kind and loving, with abilities that really weren’t in vogue at the time she had done my “reading.” Not everyone is required to offer readings for free: it’s not a rule or law for everyone. That was just for Lyn; it was her particular relationship to the universe. There may have been something karmic that her guides were helping her to fulfill in this way. I don’t judge those who charge — especially those who have dedicated their lives to helping others with their specially focused awareness.
It is partially a function of soul age; still, I sense intuitively that everyone has access to extrasensory awareness. Some of us are simply more assiduous: we are attentive to details. Through time, we are free to either cultivate or neglect our latent abilities. I have learned I am able to detect the presence of negative, disambiguated spirits, as well as some of the more enlightened ones through the sense of smell. The more negative ones have been present in the closets of apartments, in the aisles of thrift stores, and in certain hallways at school. I feel drained in the presence of these spirits.
I also have learned to sense the presence of a new Spirit Helper. Psychic Medium Robert Baca affirmed that Wildflower, a Lakota woman, was assigned to help me. I sense her presence by a beautiful floral smell, like a small field of gardenias. Sometimes in the middle of a conversation, a person will remark, “What’s that smell? It smells really pretty,” so I know she lets others feel her presence, too.
My encounter with Lyn was almost a half a century ago, yet I remember every prediction she offered, and all of the advice she gave so freely. We barely knew each other; and to this day, I ponder why she offered these disclosures. I find myself wishing she had not made her transition so soon; sadly, she died of cancer at a young age. She was such a person of light. I have so many questions for her. Still, I marvel at and am grateful for our meeting in the way we did.
In that brief encounter, I was enhanced psychically and spiritually by her loving example.
