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Posted @ 11:06:28 on 31 January 2008

A few months ago I started some Psychic Development classes at the College in South Kensington. Part of me went out of curiosity to see what it was about, and part of me wanted to go as I was desperate to get some sense of what was happening to Mum now. Originally I went with two friends, but gradually they both dropped out as they found it wasn't for them, but I kept going. If nothing else it has been really useful background research for the book. As I don't prescribe to the organised religions but instead follow my own tradition, I don't have those pictures of the god with a beard sitting on a cloud looking over heaven to fall back on. My path doesn't have a prescribed vision of the afterlife, so I was curious to see what other people do.

Well, I am now three weeks into my third (and possibly final) term of Psychic development classes. The thing is I really don’t know why I am there, other than that during divination with an upturned glass, someone asked “who should sign up for intermediate level?” and the glass shot straight over to me. That was just after I seemed to have a silent conversation with my "guide" as they would not allow me to ask any questions out loud. It seems they felt they did not wish to discuss anything with anyone else in the room but me, so I had to ask the questions silently and then they would give me an answer… And several other people keep telling me I should be doing it.

But every week I go and sit in the class, hope no one talks about my Mum and makes me cry and wonder why I am there. It is literally like having constipation, as nothing gets through. I strain and strain and nothing comes out except a feeling of panic every time we have to do any practical work. I love the talking, I have infinite respect for my teacher and I am learning loads from her in terms of life stuff, I just don’t get on with the bit where you have to try and be psychic.

This week, I finally decided I had had enough.

“Right then, you lot,” I instructed as I took my seat. “I can think of a million and one other things I would rather be doing than going through the excruciating mortification of psychic constipation. Either something happens tonight, or next week I will be at home watching America’s Next Top Model.”

The strangest thing happened… As soon as we opened up, I could feel someone standing with their hand on my left shoulder. This week the exercise was to start with some psychometry. As I sat with my class partner, she made me burst into tears by immediately telling me that my Mum hadn’t wanted to leave me either, and then after I had mopped myself up and sat holding her watch, I had a sense of someone lifting up my chin and giving me a big hug, so I told her,

“I get a sense that someone is saying keep your chin up and giving you a hug,” and it worked. She nodded and replied that it made sense to her.

The second part was then to stand up in front of the class and do a platform reading. In the end I just got up and told myself I was just going to see what it looked like from up there. It was weird, but all the faces went misty except one, and I ended up blurting this message to him. And he took it.

So what is that about then? I only hope I don’t have to go back to straining for it next week. I think I would quite enjoy being a bit more plugged in on this side…


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