Accidents and Sudden Deaths – My thoughts from a psychic perspective

“Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am that swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
~ Autumn Rain – Mary Frye, 1932

 

This is the next post in my Wednesday series on death and dying.

Many people have asked me what happens to a person if they have a sudden death through accident or illness.

I’ve sat holding the hand of people who’ve been suddenly and gravely injured and who have then passed away.

I’ve also been ‘visited’ psychically by souls whose life has suddenly terminated due to trauma, or I have connected with them through my meditations.

One of the strongest psychic experiences I have ever had was of sitting in my friend’s body and being aware of his thoughts in the hours before and after his death from suicide. Although that remains the most brutal experience I have had, it was also a supreme gift.

This is what I have come to understand…

Death that is sudden is a shock for the soul. We live on, and our capacity for thought and awareness lives on. There is a period after death where the soul must orient themselves to their new circumstances.

This doesn’t always happen the same way.

 

Some people die in trauma and there is a short period of nothingness – as if someone wiped part of a video. In this way the soul is spared the traumatic memories. There will be no trauma to process even if the circumstances of death were difficult. Sometimes the soul abandons the mortally injured body before death takes place. There is no suffering. Life just stops. In every instance the newly liberated soul is met and guided by loved ones who help to move the soul to a place of love and comfort. Later the soul may revisit their body or the scene of their death, but by then they will have disconnected from their life to an extent that the revisiting adds no trauma, only understanding and closure for the life they have just lived.

Some people die, and don’t immediately realise that they are dead. They may look down on themselves and be completely disoriented and confused. There is no physical pain. I liken this situation to when you awaken from a dream and are not sure where you are for a moment. Then gradually understanding comes as you orient yourself to the room you are in. This may take minutes or hours. There is never a situation of being trapped in the body, or trapped on earth. Instead there is a period of readjustment before the soul accepts their death and moves to wherever it is we go after this current life journey is complete. And wherever that is, it is ALWAYS a return to love.

My friend who suicided realised too late that he had acted from emotion in making the decision to end his life, and that he didn’t want to die. He was still alive when that realisation came but it was impossible to change his outcome. In the moments before death he experienced extreme regret and sorrow, and a deep awareness of the trauma he would now inflict on his family. After death he came to a place of deep love and acceptance for himself and his life. That was his gift to me. He showed me and allowed me to feel that love. I have never experienced anything as comforting or all-encompassing as that place of unconditional love his soul moved into after death.

Souls don’t remain trapped on earth, or stuck in some strange in-between place because of trauma, sudden or violent death. We always return to love.

The true suffering is done here on earth.

The energetic imprint of trauma, violence and suffering can remain in a place, and many psychics and empaths will pick up on that. They can tune into thoughts, emotions and even images that have been imprinted. This energetic residue is NOT a trapped soul. Lightworkers can bear witness to that low vibration energy, and use love and light to dissipate it and heal a space or place if that feels right.

 

Do we always die because it is our time? I would love to say that I am wise enough to know the answer. All I can say here is that while many people do indeed die because whatever experience they needed here is complete, there are instances of accident and mishap that can terminate our lives before we did all we came here to do and experience. Life is fraught with risk. We are biological organisms. It’s a crazy adventure that sometimes goes wrong. I do know that, no matter what happens, we return to love when we die. And everything we experience teaches us something and helps us to grow – either in this life or in our time between lives.

It is important to remember that the ones most affected by sudden death (be it accident, suicide or medical) will be those left behind in life.

 

I also had a question from a reader about organ donation that fits in very well with what we’re talking about here on the blog this morning. Here it is:

“My understanding is that taking organs when the person is brain dead, or just after their heart has stopped beating means their spiritual body hasn’t completely left the physical body yet. I understand that this can cause distress in the next world and maybe even problems when reincarnating with a spiritual body that hasn’t fully healed from having parts taken or damaged. have you had any experiences of this type of thing, or is it something you could enquire into? My only personal experience is living in a building where they did experiments on human eyeballs in the basement. I’m not scared of ghosts usually, but the corridor by the basement always seemed to be teeming with unhappy souls.”

 

A ghost is an energetic residue. Many empaths and intuitives pick up on strong positive or negative emotional energies that have been imprinted upon objects or places. I believe that the reader who posted this question is highly empathic and intuitive, and hence their ability to tune into old energies held within the building where they lived.

When organs are taken from a donor, the person is already brain-dead or their heart has stopped beating. There will be no possibility that this person could be brought back to any form of life. Life is sometimes artificially continued for a short period of time through the use of machines that keep a supply of oxygenated blood flowing through the body. These keeps the organs viable so that the donor’s wish to gift life to others can still take place. The soul of this person will have already detached from their body when the organs are removed.

A soul is never hampered in their journey after death because of what may have happened to their physical body before or after death. A soul would not experience difficulties because part of their physical body continued to exist. That organ serves no purpose for the disembodied soul. We exist as more than just our physical bodies, and we have no need for our physical body after death. Our physical bodies may continue to do good and be of service after our death though, through acts such as organ donation.

Be kind to yourself, and those you meet. We never know what is going on within another, and this is often a hard time of year remembering those we have lost.

Much love to you, Nicole <3 xx

 

What Happens When We Die?

“There once was a girl who found herself dead.
She peered over the ledge of heaven
and saw that back on earth
her sister missed her too much,
was way too sad,
so she crossed some paths
that would not have crossed,
took some moments in her hand
shook them up
and spilled them like dice
over the living world.
It worked.
The boy with the guitar collided
with her sister.
“There you go, Len,” she whispered. “The rest is up to you.”
~ Jandy Nelson, The Sky Is Everywhere

 

Welcome to the third post in my Wednesday series on death and dying.

Last week I talked about the end stage of life, and what you might expect as a loved one or carer. Today, I’d like to discuss the moments after death, and what happens for the person who died.

Let’s start with Antoinette, a friend of mine who lost her life to breast cancer at age forty-two, leaving behind a loving husband and two little girls. Antoinette had battled cancer for a number of years. She was the first friend who ever contacted me after she died. Let me share her story…

 

Antoinette

When Antoinette’s time came, it came quickly and she went downhill very fast.  She did not want to die in a hospital, so her family brought Antoinette home, arranged for medical care, and went about their lives with her firmly in the midst of it all.

My friend had been ravaged by cancer. She was bald, skeletal, and frail as a bird, with a hugely bloated stomach and a deep pallor. As I sat holding her hand in the days before her death, my friend would whisper to me about what she was experiencing as she faded in and out of consciousness.  It was very beautiful, she said, and her Dad had come to help her (he had died some years before)  but she was very afraid.  There was a beautiful garden and people dancing, and she really wanted to join them there.  She was tired and couldn’t keep fighting, but she felt so guilty to be leaving her family when her job with them wasn’t finished. 

As her body began to shut down Antoinette’s words became slurred and incomprehensible to others, but I could still hear her voice as loud and clear as a bell. Her mum and husband would come into the room, and her physical aura would immediately strengthen as she tried to be strong and stay with them.  When they left the room her physical aura became instantly weaker and her etheric aura (her soul energy) grew bright again.

The day of her death a strong pink and gold light descended upon Antoinette, and the whole room was filled with a Divine presence.  I don’t often work with Angels or people who have passed over but my friend’s room became filled with Angels that I could physically see.  As soon as they arrived she began the journey of letting go, and became more and more peaceful.

We all gave Antoinette constant attention and love, and told her that it was okay for her to go to the Light.  My friend was leaving a young family behind, and she resisted death with every breath while the living were in the room with her.  Finally a beautiful moment allowed her to begin the process of finally letting go.

I saw the spirit of a charming man, perhaps in his forties, just as if he was really in the room with us.  I couldn’t hear him, but Antoinette could.  “Dad’s here”, my friend whispered, but she was also distressed – she knew her life was coming to an end.  I had never met Antoinette’s father, and did not know what he looked like.  When I described the man I saw later to her mother without saying who I thought he was, she said – “oh yes, that’s my husband’’.  He’d been much older when he died, but he appeared to Pinkie at an age when he was strong and handsome.

 

Then the spirit of an older woman turned up – my Guides explained that she was a relative from Antoinette’s husband’s family – who had died before Antoinette or her husband were even born.  Her presence soothed family members, even though they could not see or hear her, and did not know she was there.  I watched this older woman standing unseen to all but me in the energy field of Antoinette’s husband, strengthening and supporting him, and witnessed the most moving scene as he then began to recall how he and Antoinette had met, and some of the special moments in their lives together.

Hours before Antoinette’s death, the spirit of a physically stunning blonde young woman turned up by her left side.  Antoinette’s eyes widened in amazement and delight.  “My friend’s here, my beautiful friend.  I don’t believe it.  She’s here!” cried my dying friend.  I watched this beautiful girl lean over Antoinette’s broken body and stroke her cheek, whispering to her, and as she did this Antoinette’s physical aura became paler and paler and her breathing laboured.  Then her etheric aura completely disengaged and floated to the top of the room, held by the most slender and delicate silvery cord.  I left then and went home, so that my friend could share her final moments in privacy with her family.

Even though I knew Antoinette was meant to be leaving us, and would be well guided and looked after, I was very upset at losing my friend, and found it hard to sleep that night.  Just after I finally dozed off I was woken by a bright light in my bedroom, which was filled with the fragrance of sweet flowers. My beloved friend was standing at the end of my bed in a pink dress, and with raven hair down to her waist held by a jewelled head band.  She looked years younger and radiantly beautiful.

“Thank you, Nicole,” said my friend, smiling widely.  “I’m okay, and I understand everything.”  She then gave me some short messages for her Mum, husband and family.

I heard from the family the next morning that Antoinette had passed away ten minutes before I saw her.

A girlfriend rang later that day to see how Antoinette was.  I told her of our friend’s passing, and the things I had experienced with her before her death.  This girlfriend had gone to school with Antoinette and knew her very well.  From my description she immediately identified the girl who had come to Antoinette’s bedside as a childhood friend who had died tragically in the company of Antoinette when they were just eighteen.

My girlfriend asked if I would be prepared to share what I had seen with the family of the girl who had died so many years ago.  I was able to share my experiences with that girl’s family, who took great comfort from the fact that I had seen their long-lost daughter and sister, and that the girls were together again, looking after each other. A photo they showed me matched the girl that I had seen exactly.

I’ll share with you with the final thing Antoinette said to me on the night of her death as she stood at the foot of my bed.  “Don’t worry Nicole.  God is everywhere.  It all makes sense when you get here.  It’s really okay, and so am I.  I love you.  Tell them all it’s okay.  It’s all just love.”

 

And here’s another reassuring story, although this one is very different.

Angela

When my friend Angela died, in the early hours of the morning, her spirit stayed in the hospital room for a long time afterwards. At first it was hard for her to believe that she was truly dead. There was quite a period of adjustment for her until she could finally feel a deep love for herself, and for her body. In life she had never felt beautiful, or good enough. In death she looked down upon herself and her loved ones and felt only love.

As dawn approached she slipped out of the room, and understood that with her thoughts she could travel freely. She gave me a running commentary as she travelled from the confines of the palliative care ward in Lismore. Angela spoke with joy about what it was to feel free. The world was so beautiful. She flew back over her home, and visited her dogs and her garden. She flew down to the coast to watch the sun come up over the lighthouse in Byron Bay. She could see dolphins! She could see so far, and the dawning morning was one of the most precious gifts she ever received. She was euphoric.

Angela’s spirit came backwards and forwards to our realm until her funeral a few days later. She was calm, joyful and completely at peace in a way she had never been in life.

Image by micahkiter

Image by micahkiter (The link takes you to great drone footage of the Byron Bay Lighthouse)

 

And this final story is of a stranger.

The Motorbike Man

I witnessed a terrible road accident a few years ago, involving a motorbike. It had just happened when we came upon it. There had been two people on the bike, but I only saw an empty helmet, and a rider who still wore his helmet, but who was horribly injured. As I sat in the car in the middle of the traffic jam, waiting for the emergency responders, a man in motorbike leathers came to the open window of our car. He asked me to help his friend. I poured all my love into the injured man, and prayed for him. I called upon his Guides and Angels and Ancestors. I prayed for the paramedics who were working on him, and I asked for the outcome for the Highest Good for all.

It was only much later that I found out the young man I’d been speaking to had actually died in that accident, and he’d stayed because he wanted to make sure that his friend would live. By an uncanny twist of fate I later met this friend again, at a cafe in Brisbane. You can read more about that here.

 

In every instance that I have sat with the dying, and with their body afterwards, their soul has left their physical body and stayed for at least a short while with their loved ones here, or taken a final tour of important places.

Wherever our soul travels to after this life, I know that we reunite with loved ones who have already passed, and that we feel nothing but radiant joy, love and calm. We return to love and we are never alone.

Whenever I have communicated with souls after their passing they have been at peace. Anger goes. Shame goes. Fear goes. Pain goes. All that is left is love.

Image from tatamom78 at www.photobucket.com

Image from tatamom78 at www.photobucket.com

I also know that love gives us ability to reconnect with and visit our loved ones in small ways, once we are no longer in a body.

Haven’t you ever felt the presence and love of someone dear to you who has died? We might not talk about it often, but it is a common occurrence.

I certainly don’t have all the answers to the mysteries of life and death, but I have seen so much that goes beyond what was ever taught to me or held as true around death and dying that I cannot but believe that we go on, that love goes on, and that love is all there is.

 

 

Thanks for reading. Next week I’ll be talking about suicide and also about grief. If you have any questions you’d like me to cover in this series, please contact me here on the blog or at cauldronsandcupcakes@gmail.com

Wherever you are, go in peace today, and know that you are in my thoughts, prayers and meditations. I’m wishing you well. I’m sending you love,

Nicole❤ xoxo

Accidental Angels

Magpie-in-a-tree-703x469

“A magpie can be happy or sad: sometimes so happy that he sits on a high, high gum tree and rolls the sunrise around in his throat like beads of pink sunlight; and sometimes so sad that you would expect the tears to drip off his beak.
This magpie was like that.”
~ Colin Thiele

 

I’ve had a restless night.

Pain. Broken sleep. Fevers.

But I came back into my body after a few hours of snatched sleep, and as I lay there with my eyes closed I heard angels singing.

It pleased me, and I nestled down in the pile of blankets and pillows, listening to their music.

It was only after a long while that I came to realise that it wasn’t angels, but magpies. They were sitting on the powerline just outside my bedroom window, deep in song.

I had no idea what time it was. Only that it was early, and dawn was a mere suggestion in a scrubby sky of low cloud and streaky stars.

 

Feathered angels.

What a blessed start to my day.

Here are some rather bedraggled magpies who sound a lot like the ones who sang for me…

Mini-Retreat Day 2 – Connect to Your Guide

“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”
~ Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

 

We’re deep into our inner work, here at retreat. The shifts for my students and myself have already been profound, and there is so much more to come.

Yesterday we worked with the energy of our Higher Self.

Today we’ll be connecting in with a Guide, Angel or other energetic being who can help us to understand ourselves, and provide insights and answers to our current situations.

The Universe only ever speaks to us through love. Sometimes that might be tough love, as we face up to something we’ve been avoiding or some truth we didn’t want to hear. But the guidance will always be encouraging, supportive and kind. It also offers us new perspectives and an opportunity to see situations from a different angle.

Our Guides and Angels are always with us. Sometimes we may know that they are here because of a feeling of peace or enveloping love that comes over us. Some people who are quite energetically sensitive may even feel gooseflesh, the sense of a breeze or gentle touch on their skin, or have the experience of curtains moving gently or a candle flickering in a room where the windows are closed tight.

I’ve recorded a short guided meditation for you, to help you connect to one of your Guides or Angels.

Stay open after the meditation. Pay attention throughout the day. Trust the your Guide or Angel will do all they can to help you know that they are here and with you, and that they love you.

To complete today’s activity in our mini-retreat you’ll need

  • A crystal or stone you can hold comfortably in your hand (you can choose a different one to yesterday if you wish!)
  • A journal
  • Some pens and pencils
  • A deck of your favourite oracle or tarot cards that you have chosen just because you love their pictures.
  • A little time set aside just for you. The meditation requires 10 minutes and you’ll need at least another ten for journalling. If you have the luxury, allow an hour. Take more time if you have it, and are ready for a big dose of love and guidance.

Guided Meditation for Connecting with Your Spiritual Guide

To do the meditation, hold your chosen crystal, and then sit or lie comfortably, close your eyes, and follow along to the sound of my voice:

 

 

Journal and Card Activity

Hold the stone that you used in meditation while you work with your cards and journal. It will help you to maintain a strong energetic connection to your Guide or Angel.

Journal Prompts:

Use your time to explore the following questions in your journal. Write the question at the top of the page, and then close your eyes for a moment, and feel back into your connection with your Guide or Angel. Feel the incredible unconditional love, acceptance and guidance that is available to you. Then open your eyes and write your response.

*Important – make sure that when you finish writing your answer, leave space to write one more response below. Give yourself half a page or a full page if possible.

The questions to ask are:

  • How can I love myself better right now?
  • What activities will bring me joy and happiness?
  • Which relationships in my life are supportive of me?
  • Where can I best express my talents and gifts?
  • How can I improve my financial security?
  • What do I most need to know right now?

Write as much or as little as you need. You may feel like you are making it all up. That’s okay. Keep writing. Trust the process.

2015-07-25-17-30-00

Using your Oracle or Tarot Cards

When you have finished journalling, take your cards, offer up a small prayer that whatever you do be for your Highest Good, and then shuffle the deck, asking that your Guide or Angel continue to guide you.

Now go back to the first question. Read the question again, but not your first response.

Shuffle the deck again, asking your Guide or Angel What else do I need to see in relation to this question?  Choose one card. How you choose is up to you. Split the deck. Fan them out. Top or bottom. Dive right in. There is no right or wrong.

Now look at your card and hold your crystal in your non-writing hand. Really look at the card. Don’t use the book or the ‘proper’ meaning. We are being intuitive here, people! Trust the guidance of your Angel or Guide. What stands out for you in the picture? What thoughts and ideas do the images provoke? Take a minute or two and write those thoughts down. You may want to use a different coloured pen for this part. I know, you might still feel like you’re just making it all up. That’s okay. Write anyway. Trust that there is a part of you that is wise and that has been waiting for this chance to speak with your conscious mind.

If you need to, draw up to five cards to gain further insight and clarity for this situation.

Then move to the next question and repeat the process.

$_3

Gift yourself this important time of connection and reflection today, and if you can, spend some quiet time outside in nature. Silence helps us to consolidate changes and integrates the energetic shifts we are experiencing.

Tomorrow we’ll be doing more focus work and planning for our mini-retreat, so stay tuned because there is more to come.

Thinking of you all, and sending so much love to you from our retreat, Nicole xoxo

2015-12-27 12.20.24

Can You See My Baby Brother?

Image from Vk.com

Image from Vk.com

“For truly we are all angels temporarily hiding as humans.”
~ Brian L. Weiss

*Note – all names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.

Last year Beth’s mother brought her along to a session with me because Beth had been insisting on seeing that lady.

I need to see that lady. I need to see that lady. I need to see that lady, Beth chanted over and over again as only two-year-olds can.

What lady? Beth’s mum asked.

The one who saw me before I was borned.

Yep, that would be me…

Beth’s mum has been a client of mine for fifteen years, and I’d connected to the soul who would become her daughter in our very first psychic session, before she’d ever met her future husband, Beth’s dad. Beth was a bright little bubble of light in her mum’s aura.

Beth’s mum was skeptical that first day. She had PCOS and had been told she would never have children. Over the next  decade I saw Beth’s mum a few more times. She met a wonderful man. They fell in love and married. They tried everything, but there was no baby. They resigned themselves to being childless and adopted two small dogs instead.

Then, at the age of thirty-six, she became pregnant. They’d long ago stopped using any form of birth control. She didn’t realise until she was nearly six months along, such had been the erratic nature of her cycles, and then three short months later Beth was born. A healthy baby daughter. They’d been worried she might have had problems – Beth’s mum had been on aggressive drug treatment for acne when she fell pregnant, but Beth was fine. In fact, she was thriving. Beth’s mum sent me a long email and lots of photos of their adored little girl. I was thrilled for them.

Last year, Beth and her mum came back to see me. Beth’s mum booked in for a top-up session, and cleared it for her to bring her toddler along. Just for a visit. Beth’s mum promised me that her daughter was very shy, and would sit quietly in her lap, or play on the floor with her toys.

Um… no. 🙂

When the doorbell rang, and I opened the big old wooden door, a tiny person charged inside, her mum hurrying to catch up with her.

Hello, said this little poppet, looking up at me with her big blue eyes. I remember you. Do you remember me? I’m Beth, but my proper name is Grace-Margaret. The way she said Grace-Margaret, the tiny girl sounded like a Southern Belle. That’s my last-time name, she added, but Mummy didn’t know. It’s okay. I don’t mind being Beth this time. It’s a nice name.

Beth’s mum looked at me, confused. I gave her a hug and assured her that everything was fine. Meanwhile her little daughter had walked into my reading room and had climbed up into the chair meant for her mother.

We need to tell Mummy about Will-iam, said Beth in her baby, sing-song voice.

Who’s William? Beth’s mother asked, completely unnerved.

I pretended as if conversations like these happened all the time around my dining room table.

Is he your Guide, darling? Beth’s mum prompted. Or an Angel? Beth’s mum was very into Angels.

See! Beth said, looking right at me.

What shall we tell Mummy? I asked brightly. But I knew…

He’s coming, Beth announced proudly. Will-iam is coming to stay. He’s going to be my brother. And then she rolled her eyes as if the joke was hilarious. Again! she said. Will-iam is going to be my brother again. Like last time.

Image from Bumble Button

Image from Bumble Button

No, Beth’s mother said gently. Mummy isn’t having any more babies. You are my one miracle.

See? Beth said to me. She won’t believe me. You tell her. You can see him, can’t you? You can see my baby brother like you saw me?

But before I could say anything, Beth’s mum held up her hand, and her eyes filled with tears. Please, she whispered, can we talk about something else? The doctors had assured her there would be no more children. Ever. No matter what she tried.

Beth hugged her Mum hard. It’s alright, Mummy. He won’t be any trouble, she said. And then she sat down on the floor with her colouring book while her mum and I talked about other things.

In February this year, Beth’s mum left a message for me on facebook. She was pregnant again.

Last night I received another long email from Beth’s Mum. Attached were several photos of Beth proudly holding her little brother, William. Another healthy child.

Image from Red Rose Mummy

Image from Red Rose Mummy

William looks quiet and wise, and very peaceful. The love between Beth and her brother shines bright in every image. It’s so fulfilling for me to see the souls I have met firstly as energy, now made human in their form once more. Especially in the presence of so much love.

Life is the most amazing mystery, isn’t it? I take great comfort from that. Great comfort, indeed.

 

No Angels Wear Pink Pyjamas

Image from Chakra Centre

Image from Chakra Centre

“I do believe we’re all connected. I do believe in positive energy. I do believe in the power of prayer. I do believe in putting good out into the world. And I believe in taking care of each other.”Harvey Fierstein

 

Yesterday I went to a favourite cafe in New Farm. It’s the first time I’ve driven myself to a cafe in over a year, and I was really looking forward to the opportunity to sit on my own in a quiet corner, writing and enjoying a good coffee.

I arrived very early, just after six, put in my order and got to work. While I wrote, completely absorbed in my story, the place filled up. It was a typical wintery raining morning in Brisbane, and there were couples, family groups and lycra-clad cyclists at all the outdoor tables.

After a while I had a strange feeling, and realised that a man a few tables over, sitting with a small group of his friends, kept staring at me. If I looked up he looked away, but as soon as I returned to my laptop he was staring again. It made me feel quite uncomfortable.

Eventually I caught his eye, and we just held each other’s gaze for a minute or so. I had a sensation of the most intense recognition, Now I was sure that I knew him, but I couldn’t place him at all. I smiled, mentally wished him well and sent him some love and went back to my writing.

As I was getting into my car an hour later, a young woman came over to me.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” She was nervously screwing the edge of her jacket between her hands.

“Sure,” I said, throwing my bag into the car.

“My boyfriend thinks he knows you,” she said, her words tumbling out in a hurry.

“The one from the coffee shop?” I asked. She had been sitting with her back to me, so I’d never seen her face.

“Yes, the coffee shop and from the Highway…” She said it like a challenge.

And then I knew. Slowly I sank down onto the driver’s seat of my car. “The man on the motorcycle,” I whispered.

Brisbane is a small place. If you lived here you’d know that we’re always joking about how the rest of the world may enjoy seven degrees of separation or connection, but in Brisbane it’s only two.

Last year, very very early, Ben and I were heading back to our farm at Possum Creek, about two hours drive from Brisbane. It was about 4am, rainy, and I was incredibly ill from my Lyme drugs. That’s why we had decided to drive home at such an hour. After some sleep, and before my next round of meds I was hoping that it would be a vomit-free trip.

Image from Transgrediendo

Image from Transgrediendo

We’d only just entered the Highway when a motorbike screamed past us on the empty road, going so fast it made it look like we were standing still. I was overcome with the blackest of dreads.

“Slow down! Slow down!” I screamed. I wasn’t sure who I was even talking to, my husband or the bike.

My husband slowed the car, and put his hand on my leg. “Are you okay? Are you going to be sick?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

I couldn’t even speak, I was so upset, but I shook my head to indicate that I was okay. We drove on for less than ten minutes and then the traffic came to a stop. There had been an accident. It was the bike, as I’d known it would be. Debris was strewn across the road. A solitary motorbike helmet sat in the middle of a lane like someone had casually placed it there. The traffic banked up behind us.

An ambulance was already there. More arrived. Police cars came. I was trembling with shock. To calm myself I closed my eyes and went into meditation.

And there I saw it all, as though I was looking down on the accident from above.

“That’s my friend,” said a man beside me. He was wearing a motorbike jacket. “Can you help him?”

His friend was on the ground, badly injured. Ambulance crews were bent over him, trying to get him stable, trying to stop the bleeding. His leg was hanging by sinew and denim. He was distressed and awake.

I poured my love into the man on the ground. I called on God. I asked all of the Angels, Guides and Ancestors to help him and to hold him safe. I prayed for the paramedics, who were fighting so hard for this man. I asked for the best outcome for all.

Image from tumblr

Image from tumblr

Eventually the ambulances left, and the police and fire crews cleared a lane so that the traffic could creep past. The sun hadn’t even come up yet.

The twisted remains of the bike had been pushed against a concrete wall. The car involved had already been towed away.

I cried.

When we got home to the farm I couldn’t stop thinking about the accident. I searched the online news and police reports, but found only the briefest mentions. In the end I lit a candle for all involved, and included them in my daily prayers and meditations.

“My boyfriend is sure that you’re an Angel,” the young woman said, bringing me out of the past and back to the carpark. “He says you came to him in the accident, and you were wearing pyjamas.”

I had been wearing pyjamas that morning. Pink pirate pyjamas and fluffy purple socks.

“It’s because of you that he believes in God now,” she said. “He comes to church with his mother and me.”

“I’m no Angel,” I said, trying to smile, deeply embarrassed at what she’d said. “What Angel would wear pyjamas? I’m just a person. I am a meditator, and when the accident happened I was in a car nearby, and so I prayed for him, and sent him love and light in my meditation. That’s all.”

“It’s been a terrible time,” said the girlfriend. “He lost his leg you know, but the worst thing is the guilt. He’s been so depressed about his friend.”

Now I understood. The man in the jacket who asked me to help his friend that day had been riding pillion. He’d been in the accident too. “I’m so sorry, for you and all your family,” I said.

The girl nodded, tears rolling down her face.

“Hey,” a voice behind her said. It was the man who’d been staring at me. It was the man from the crash.

I extended my hand and shook his, and we introduced ourselves. And then I stood up and gave him a hug. He was thin and frail under my arms. I could feel how tenuous his will to live still was.

“This is your second chance,” I whispered in his ear. “Make it count. Make it count for you, and for your friend. You’re still here for a reason.”

He cried. I cried. We hugged again. And then we said goodbye and I came home to my little house in Brisbane, pulled myself together and began a day of psychic readings for clients.

Truly, there is no such thing as an Angel in Pink Pyjamas, but I do believe that we are all connected, and that with our thoughts, intentions , love and prayers we can make a difference.

In our hearts we are all one. Let’s help each other wherever we can.

weareallconnected

The Voice

“Sometimes beautiful things come into our lives out of nowhere. We can’t always understand them, but we have to trust in them. I know you want to question everything, but sometimes it pays to just have a little faith.” 
~ Lauren Kate, Torment

Yesterday afternoon I lay down for a nap and fell into the deepest, dreamless slumber.

A deep male voice woke me up. It was authoritative. And loving. It said this:

“Remember this. This is the sickest you will ever be. This is lowest you will ever be. Look at yourself. Remember this. Tonight you shall turn the corner.”

I felt so calmed by that voice.

Staggering out of bed I went to the bathroom and peered into the mirror. Here I was. Sick, fat, dumb-headed, exhausted, miserable.

The words kept echoing in my head, tonight you will turn the corner.

Still half asleep I slipped on some shoes and wandered down the paddocks to the cattleyards where Ben was feeding the weaners. Sitting beside him on a hay bale I told him about the voice.

“Better take some pictures,” Ben said. So he pulled out his phone and snapped a few. “This time in a year we’ll be able to think back from some holiday somewhere and look at how far you’ve come.”

This morning I woke up and so much was still the same. I’m exhausted, sick, sore. I still have my little window of ‘me time’ before I take the first drugs of the day and descend back into hell.

But something inside me has shifted. The only way I can describe it is as a spark. There is a spark of golden light inside my chest, comforting and restoring me.

I can’t explain why, but I trust that voice. I feel that spark.

So.

Onwards…

A Little Bag of Comfort!

Image from ZingTravel

Image from ZingTravel

“There’s a sorrow and pain in everyone’s life, but every now and then there’s a ray of light that melts the loneliness in your heart and brings comfort like hot soup and a soft bed.” 
~ Hubert Selby Jr., Requiem for a Dream

Right now I’m pushing through an aggressive round of drugs and herbs to treat my Lyme disease and various co-infections. Oh goodness yesterday was tough. In fact my misery had started late in the afternoon of the previous day, from which time everything deteriorated.

At first I meditated. Then I tried to distract myself with a thoughtful gift from a friend who had packed me a little bag full of prompts, sounds and smells to take me on a journey through France, all from the comfort of my bed.

Eventually though, my physical pain and discomfort became too much for those kinds of imagination games. My very bones ached, my head throbbed as if it might explode, my skin burned, it felt like a million monsters were scratching and biting at me. Nothing I did seemed to reduce my suffering. How was I going to cope with weeks more of this same horror?

I needed some help.

Reaching over the side of my bed I groped around in my ‘Lucky Dips’ bag, and pulled out the first one my fingers found.

Here’s the little Love Letter I chose for myself. Perhaps it will have a message for you too…

My Lucky Dip Bag #1. All of the items inside were chosen randomly and placed in bags ready for when I might need them. Because of the way I put these packages together I have no idea what the contents will be.

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Lucky Dip #1 contents:

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An Oracle Card from Doreen Virtue’s Goddess Guidance Deck:

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A random note of encouragement from me:

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A Kimberley Amethyst I picked up many years ago in the company of my Aboriginal Aunties:

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I hugged that rock to me all day and used it as a focus point while I meditated.

‘It will all be worth it’, I reminded myself.

‘My prayers have been heard and are being answered.’

I slept with the crystal under my pillow. I slept! This morning I woke up feeling a little better. Less pain. More optimism. 5 weeks, 3 days to go…

Whatever challenges you’re facing right now, I’m encouraging you to keep going. It will be worth it! You’re in my thoughts, prayers and meditations.

Much love to you, Nicole xx

Wrong Numbers and New Friends

Image from www.Radio2.nl

Image from www.Radio2.nl

“Sometimes wrong numbers are the right numbers.” ~ Cecelia Ahern, The Time of My Life

 

Late yesterday afternoon I tried to call my sister. My new drugs are kicking in and so my eyes were all twitchy and I was having problems seeing. Somehow I put in one wrong digit.

“Hello?” An older woman’s voice, surprised, answered the phone.

“Mum?” I said. I’d been expecting Simone. What was Mum doing there? Was it even Mum? It had to be Mum… Trying to place the voice against the background noise of a blaring television I tried again. “Hello? Mum, is that you? Can you hear me? It’s Nicole. “

There was a pause, and then the woman spoke again. “That’s a beautiful name, darling. Nicole did you say? That’s French isn’t it?”

By now I had worked out that this definitely wasn’t my mum on the other end of the line, but something made me keep talking.

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, you can call me Mum, sweetheart,” the old lady said. “I’d like that very much.” She asked where I was calling from, and I explained that I was here in Brisbane for a few days but that I normally lived on a farm.

Well, ‘Mum’ was away! Telling me all about her days growing up on a farm on the outskirts of Toowoomba, and then later the animals she kept at her little house in Brisbane after she married and when her children were growing up. She’d had ducks and chickens and a lovely big vegetable garden, right here at Mount Gravatt. Of course as she’d gotten older she’d had to let all that go…

Photo by Erika Stardig

Photo by Erika Stardig

“Ducks,” I said. “Good eggs, duck eggs. Great for cooking.”

“Oh, do you like to cook?” she asked.

We chatted for a few more minutes, and she told me about her son who had gone off to fight in Vietnam and who came home and tore the chook shed down after his father’s home brew kit, kept in a lean-to beside the shed, had exploded one hot summer’s night and scared the life out of them all.

Eventually I excused myself and hung up so that I could call my sister.

Just before I went to bed last night my phone rang. It was still early so I answered it, thinking the number was my sister’s.

“Hello, Nicky,” the voice said, “it’s Mum again. I have my own Mum’s recipe here for Duck Egg Sponge. I knew I had it somewhere, and I thought you’d like to have it. She cleaned up at the Show every year with that sponge. You can probably get duck eggs down at your farm so maybe you could give it a go.”

I carefully wrote down the ingredients and instructions.

Image from Dann Good Cake

Image from Dann Good Cake

“Are you okay, love?” she asked as I began coughing violently – a side effect of the evening’s drugs.

I waited for a wave of nausea to pass and then briefly explained that I was unwell and starting on new medications which made me feel sick.

“How about I call you in a day or so?” Mum asked. “Just to see how you’re getting along. Would that be okay? You know I’ll worry about you if I don’t. And don’t you go making that sponge cake yet. You should really be having a shower and hopping into bed. Go on then, off you go. Sleep well, Nicky love. And I’ll ask Saint Peregrine to watch over you. And Raphael too. He’s my favourite Angel. I’m a lapsed Catholic dear, but I’m still very fond of some of their Saints and Angels.”

I just love the synchronicities and everyday miracles of this life, don’t you?

We are, all of us, so very much loved, and connected in magical ways we’ll never quite understand while we’re down here living out our days.

Image from Epoch Times

Image from Epoch Times

Unexpected Blessings

Original image source unknown

Original image source unknown

“Women are never so strong as after their defeat.” 
~ Alexandre Dumas

I admit it. Yesterday, for a moment (or perhaps a little longer) I wondered how I would pick myself up and keep going.

I cried.

A lot.

My doctor wants me to continue with another full course of the horror drugs which had me counting the days and hours til I was done with them.

Six more weeks.

And this shall then be followed by more drugs which I’d previously not got on well with, in different combination.

Oh. My. Goodness.

So – drugs. I needed to buy more drugs. Yesterday, after my doctor’s appointment, Ben dropped me out the front of a shopping mall because it was crowded and he needed to park the car a great distance away. I am not up to walking far right now, and my progress is a snail’s pace. I wasn’t even half way to my destination – the pharmacy – when he had caught me up. I cried a little when he did. He had already been to the pharmacy and was doubling back to look for me. “God, you worry me,” he said, his face so sad and filled with compassion. He took my arm and steered me on my way.

After we’d dropped in my fistful of scripts and bought some supplies for our few days in Brisbane we headed back outside, where Ben left me in the shade of the front entrance while he went to fetch the car.

I felt fragile; so tired and weak, as I wondered how I was going to do this thing.

And then, out of nowhere I was enveloped in the biggest of hugs. A client, who is also a dear friend, had spied me as she sat in a cafe. Behind her other friends and her partner followed, all of them with hugs and kind words.

Their love lifted me up.

Image from Travelling Yogi

Image from Travelling Yogi

At home I changed into my pyjamas, ready to lie down and rest. As I took off a bracelet and placed it in a bag, something fell out at my feet. A little medallion.

I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. And began to laugh.

A few days ago I was talking to my sister about our family tree. ‘Did you know we have a Saint in the family?’ she asked. Of course, I didn’t. As we talked I googled her: Saint Margaret, the Patron Saint of Scotland. ‘You can get her prayer card,’ Simone said. ‘But I don’t know if she has a medal…’

Not being Catholic neither of us knew much about this whole Saint thing at all.

We both then agreed that it would be handy to have a Patron Saint. I googled Patron Saints for the rest of that afternoon, quickly becoming overwhelmed, and finding no-one that really jumped out at me.

The medallion that fell out at my feet?

My Saint Peregine medal

My Saint Peregrine medal

I found it on the ground outside a pie shop in a little town called Childers about four years ago. It was worn and grubby, and I had no idea what it was, but I slipped it in my pocket and brought it home, where it’s lain forgotten ever since.

It’s actually a Saint Peregrine Medal. Saint Peregrine is the Patron Saint of serious illness, cancer, AIDS and so on.

I said a little prayer, and I’ve placed that battered medal on a chain around my neck. It seemed like the right thing to do. It makes me feel that somehow, everything will turn out just fine.

So, out of a difficult day I received more Blessings than I’d ever expected. Isn’t life the most wonderful adventure?

Image from Hatke Quotes

Image from Hatke Quotes