How Controversial Should I Be?

“But I know, somehow, that only when it is dark enough can you see the stars.” 
~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

I was working with a client a few days ago, and the topic rolled around to suicide.

She had been suicidal once, at a truly difficult time in her life. With therapy and support her life has now moved beyond the worst of the pain and back to a place of balance. But there is no-one to talk with about what happened, she said, now that she no longer pays a therapist to listen. And she worries people will think she is still in that space if she tries to talk about it with friends or family.

‘I understand,’ I said to her.

‘How could you?’ she answered crossly. ‘Only people who’ve been there understand. I mean REALLY understand.’

‘I can feel into your body, and step inside you where you met that pain head-on. So yes, I can understand it from inside you – as a psychic,’ I said, ‘but I also understand. Me. I understand.’ I said those last words more slowly this time, weighting each one.

‘No way,’ she said. ‘You? I don’t believe it.’ She looked genuinely shocked.

‘It’s true.’ I looked her in the eye. ‘I have stood in that place twice, and both times it was unexpected. Each place was a different planet I hope never to go back to. Both times I found a solution that ultimately kept me here. And you’re right. No-one ever talks about this stuff.’

We were out of time, and this was about me now, not about her.

‘Maybe you could blog about it,’ she said to me as we finished up. ‘I would have found that useful, to have known someone like you could have had feelings like me. I mean, I was so f*cked up and broken and ashamed…’ She paused. ‘To have read that, to read that now, would still be helpful. So, could you?’

What do you think, dear Tribe? I’ve written about being psychic and being incontinent and all other manner of personal over-sharing. Should I break this taboo too?

I’ll be guided by you.

Much love, Nicole xx

Catching my breath…

“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.” 
Robert Frost

 

Hello, Lovelies.
It’s been an emotional few days for me. One of our community lost her partner to suicide on the weekend. Another, her teenaged son. Two unexpected deaths. Two families left behind, broken and powerless and emptied out of reason and hope. And I have done my best for them, to bring comfort and support and to be there as friend and witness. To hold them in my meditations and prayers.

With the energies of the past few months, and the intensity of the full moon, it’s been hard for many sensitive souls. It’s been harder than usual for people with mental illness. So I’ve been busy. My psychic senses have been working overtime. The past two nights I’ve woken suddenly in the early hours and somehow found myself at my computer, or on the end of a phone, talking to clients who were suicidal. Reaching out to others too, who I knew were doing it tough.

Each time I woke unexpectedly, with someone on my mind, and sent a message out into the world so I could check on them. There the person was – in a world of pain and darkness, ready to end things except that now I was talking with them instead. Talking and holding space and helping them come back to themselves, helping them to know that their feelings were momentary, and not worthy of a permanent action they would regret.

Fulfilling work but exhausting too.

So this morning I will walk on the beach, I will sit beneath tall trees, I will let the sunshine and rain fill me up and empty me out. And I will read Bukowski. Many years ago this poem helped me through some of my own dark days. We all have dark days. It’s part of being human. Know that they will pass.

Bukowski was right. Bless Bukowski, and bless all of you.
You are precious and dear to me, and your life matters. I’m here for you.
There are many others who are here for you too. Seek them out. Ask for help. Talk to someone. Connect with someone. Know that things will change, and that you can change too.
Sending so much love, your friend, Nicole ❤ xx

‘The Laughing Heart’ by Charles Bukowski

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvellous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

The Unexpected Phone Call

Image from gentogenym.com

I’m in Brisbane this week doing psychic readings. I don’t normally take phone calls on my office phone – I let them go to message bank and my wonderful PA, Nicky, deals with them.  But today, as I was sitting at my desk the phone rang, and I picked it up without thinking.

“Hello,” I said automatically, “this is Nicole.”

There was a moment of silence on the line and then someone cleared their throat. “Um, Nicole, could you come downstairs a minute?”

I hadn’t heard the doorbell ring. The dogs hadn’t barked. But I went downstairs anyway and opened the old stained-glass door.

A young man stood there. His mate sat in a car out on the street, the motor running.

“I’m Pete,” he said.

But I knew that already, although we’ve never met.

Both our eyes filled with tears. He is older now, but I recognised him from photos I’d been shown some years ago. We moved towards each other and embraced.

Pete. The son of one of my clients. Judy lives in Melbourne, but she has come to many of my courses, and I’ve know her for years. As mothers do, she’d shown me photographs of her family in some of our consultations.

About six years ago I was eating dinner one night when I got a blinding headache.  I excused myself from the table, and went and sat in the lounge-room, closing my eyes against the glare of the lights. In the darkness a wave of nausea and panic came over me. Huge emotional pain. These aren’t my emotions, I thought to myself.

I felt a familiar feeling that I often get when I am channeling. It’s a feeling of disconnect from me, and connection into something else. My heart began to pound, and the nausea and panic increased. In my mind’s eye I peered down at a pair of hands, (the perspective making it look like they were mine) knotting together a length of rope to make a noose. I felt myself begin to hyperventilate as I deeply connected into the mind of a troubled youth.

Oh my god, I thought. He’s going to kill himself.

Somehow I knew that it was real. As his eyes looked up I saw a noticeboard above a student desk. A photo of a pretty young girl was pinned in the middle, and I knew that this was the reason for this young man’s actions.  His eyes came to rest on a photo tacked in one corner amidst all the other papers. A family photo.  And in that photo I recognised Judy, her husband and children.  In that instant I knew. I was in Pete’s bedroom.  I was in Pete’s mind.

I raced upstairs to the office and yanked open the filing cabinet, desperately searching for Judy’s details, spilling papers everywhere. Then I ran to the phone and called her home number.

She was so surprised to hear from me.  She told me to wait because she was about to take a basket of folding upstairs, and then she could talk to me from the study where we could have a bit of privacy.

Trying to keep my voice steady, I asked her to put the washing basket down and go up to Pete’s room.

“Why?” she asked.

“Just go. Please…”  I urged.

What happened next was awful. Judy kept making small talk as she walked upstairs and then dropped the phone and I heard her screaming. Her husband came running. “Hold his legs,” he yelled. “I’ll cut him down.” As the scene played out I was watching it as if I was floating in a corner of the room. I heard his sister screaming. Then I heard Judy’s husband tell her to call an ambulance.  The phone went dead…

I didn’t know what to do. I burst into tears, and told my concerned husband what had happened. Good man that he is, he gave me a hug, made me a cup of tea and put me to bed.

I didn’t hear from Judy until a few days later. Pete was going to be okay, although he would remain in hospital for many weeks, and under the care of a skilled therapist much longer. My call had saved his life.

And here he was today, six years later, standing on my doorstep.

After the longest, most soulful hug, he pulled away. “Thank you,” he said, gazing into my eyes. “I’m a  teacher now,” he added as he turned to leave. “And I’m getting married in September.”

I couldn’t speak, I was so choked up. I nodded instead. And in an instant he was back in the car, and away down the street.

Living as a psychic is sometimes hard. I cannot turn off from what I am, or from this flow of information, and often it impacts my life in ways I don’t enjoy and can’t control.

But to hold this young man in my arms today, to feel the life-force in him, to know his gratitude for a second chance…    that makes it all worthwhile. ♥