Today, we have the pleasure of a blog post written by a professional psychic. In this post, she describes how she experiences psychic communication.
This woman goes by the title, “The Operator,” because she has a direct line to The Other Side. Here’s the post:
In the early days of receiving communications from people I couldn't see, I frequently telephoned a friend who is a mental health professional. Many times, we had the same conversation: I told her what had happened to me, she asked me some probing questions about it, and then she told me it didn't sound like mental illness to her. I found this greatly relieving. It gave me the confidence to go forward and continue to develop my skills. In our last conversation like this, my friend gave me the criteria I needed to diagnose myself in the future. She said, "If it's not causing you distress, it's optional for you, and it doesn't interfere with other things you'd like to be doing, I think it's fine."
Psychic communications have always been optional for me. I'm not the person who stands in her kitchen with a dreamy look and says to the dishwasher repair man squatting on the floor, "Has your grandfather passed away? He's here with a message for you." If I'm not working, I won't accept messages for other people. I tell any spirits who arrive that I'm not interested because I'm not working. If a spirit has arrived to communicate with me, specifically, I ask why. If I think their motive is selfish or destructive, I say, “No, go away.” My mental health is important to me. While having psychic abilities is fun, I'm not willing to let them interfere with my life.
Part of making sure that psychic communication stays controllable is being aware of the difference between psychic input and other input. The two are different, but unless you pay close attention, you might confuse them.
In my experience, psychic information goes immediately to memory. Here's what I mean by this. Imagine receiving a sudden, unexpected blow to the nose. The first awareness you have is the feeling of impact on your nose. This lasts for a fraction of a second. After the initial impact, you have a powerful memory of the impact. Even though that first moment is over, the blow still seems to ring through your whole being. There's pain in your nose, yes, but the memory of the blow itself is also still an intense sensation. This intense sensation of the blow exists only in your memory. Your memory asks, “Why did this happen?” “How did this happen?” Your memory tries to trace what happened before the blow to cause it. “Did I run into something?” “Was there somebody who wanted to hit me?” These thoughts are going on independently of the current sensation of pain in your nose.
I find that the part of my mind that processes the memory of something is the same part that receives psychic communications. If, for some reason, the spirit you're having me contact wants to give you the idea of a powerful blow to the nose, I'm going to have all the same memory experiences that I would have if it happened to me. Quite suddenly, I'll be hit with a memory of an intense blow to the nose. I'll wonder how it happened and frantically retrace the moments beforehand. I'll feel a tremendous amount of focus on my nose, mimicking the experience of processing ongoing pain in the nose. In other words, I'll have every part of the experience except for the actual, physical sensations of the initial blow and pain in my nose.
Of course, most psychic communication isn't this intense; usually, it's something gentler. For example, in my early days of reading professionally, one spirit wanted to communicate something to a client which was symbolized by the rear view of a grand house with a beautiful in-ground pool. I have my eyes closed when I'm reading for someone, so I obviously wasn't seeing the house with my actual eyes, overlaid on the client's face. Instead, in my mind, I suddenly had a memory of having seen this beautiful house and pool that I had never seen in real life. The feeling was of having seen it only a split-second earlier. The spirit giving me the image felt it was important and so gave it to me over and over again, which came through as memory after memory after memory of the same view of the same house, throughout the reading. I was grateful for the repeated communication, both because it made clear how important the image was to the spirit and because it gave me a refined opportunity to observe this sudden arrival of an image in my memory.
Now that I know for certain how it feels to have a piece of information arrive suddenly in my memory, I will never mistake a psychic communication for something that has actually happened to me. I also know that I'm not hallucinating, because my eyes and ears didn't register the input.
When an image, a sound, or a feeling suddenly arrives in my memory, I can choose whether to pay attention to it or not. This is my life, right here and right now, so I choose where my thoughts go. If I'm reading for someone, I scrutinize the input carefully and relay it to the client. When I'm off, I say, “No, thank you.” If the input is from someone who wants to talk to me, specifically, I either stop what I'm doing and pay attention or say I'll talk to them later. When it's a better time to talk, I say, “Okay, what would you like to communicate?” I know the input that then arrives in my memory is not my own but from elsewhere.
Awareness of how psychic communication arrives makes my psychic abilities a pleasure rather than any sort of burden. It keeps me from worrying about my mental health and enables me to relay messages to clients with confidence.
The Operator
brightclearjoy@gmail.com
(505) 321-1256
This woman goes by the title, “The Operator,” because she has a direct line to The Other Side. Here’s the post:
In the early days of receiving communications from people I couldn't see, I frequently telephoned a friend who is a mental health professional. Many times, we had the same conversation: I told her what had happened to me, she asked me some probing questions about it, and then she told me it didn't sound like mental illness to her. I found this greatly relieving. It gave me the confidence to go forward and continue to develop my skills. In our last conversation like this, my friend gave me the criteria I needed to diagnose myself in the future. She said, "If it's not causing you distress, it's optional for you, and it doesn't interfere with other things you'd like to be doing, I think it's fine."
Psychic communications have always been optional for me. I'm not the person who stands in her kitchen with a dreamy look and says to the dishwasher repair man squatting on the floor, "Has your grandfather passed away? He's here with a message for you." If I'm not working, I won't accept messages for other people. I tell any spirits who arrive that I'm not interested because I'm not working. If a spirit has arrived to communicate with me, specifically, I ask why. If I think their motive is selfish or destructive, I say, “No, go away.” My mental health is important to me. While having psychic abilities is fun, I'm not willing to let them interfere with my life.
Part of making sure that psychic communication stays controllable is being aware of the difference between psychic input and other input. The two are different, but unless you pay close attention, you might confuse them.
In my experience, psychic information goes immediately to memory. Here's what I mean by this. Imagine receiving a sudden, unexpected blow to the nose. The first awareness you have is the feeling of impact on your nose. This lasts for a fraction of a second. After the initial impact, you have a powerful memory of the impact. Even though that first moment is over, the blow still seems to ring through your whole being. There's pain in your nose, yes, but the memory of the blow itself is also still an intense sensation. This intense sensation of the blow exists only in your memory. Your memory asks, “Why did this happen?” “How did this happen?” Your memory tries to trace what happened before the blow to cause it. “Did I run into something?” “Was there somebody who wanted to hit me?” These thoughts are going on independently of the current sensation of pain in your nose.
I find that the part of my mind that processes the memory of something is the same part that receives psychic communications. If, for some reason, the spirit you're having me contact wants to give you the idea of a powerful blow to the nose, I'm going to have all the same memory experiences that I would have if it happened to me. Quite suddenly, I'll be hit with a memory of an intense blow to the nose. I'll wonder how it happened and frantically retrace the moments beforehand. I'll feel a tremendous amount of focus on my nose, mimicking the experience of processing ongoing pain in the nose. In other words, I'll have every part of the experience except for the actual, physical sensations of the initial blow and pain in my nose.
Of course, most psychic communication isn't this intense; usually, it's something gentler. For example, in my early days of reading professionally, one spirit wanted to communicate something to a client which was symbolized by the rear view of a grand house with a beautiful in-ground pool. I have my eyes closed when I'm reading for someone, so I obviously wasn't seeing the house with my actual eyes, overlaid on the client's face. Instead, in my mind, I suddenly had a memory of having seen this beautiful house and pool that I had never seen in real life. The feeling was of having seen it only a split-second earlier. The spirit giving me the image felt it was important and so gave it to me over and over again, which came through as memory after memory after memory of the same view of the same house, throughout the reading. I was grateful for the repeated communication, both because it made clear how important the image was to the spirit and because it gave me a refined opportunity to observe this sudden arrival of an image in my memory.
Now that I know for certain how it feels to have a piece of information arrive suddenly in my memory, I will never mistake a psychic communication for something that has actually happened to me. I also know that I'm not hallucinating, because my eyes and ears didn't register the input.
When an image, a sound, or a feeling suddenly arrives in my memory, I can choose whether to pay attention to it or not. This is my life, right here and right now, so I choose where my thoughts go. If I'm reading for someone, I scrutinize the input carefully and relay it to the client. When I'm off, I say, “No, thank you.” If the input is from someone who wants to talk to me, specifically, I either stop what I'm doing and pay attention or say I'll talk to them later. When it's a better time to talk, I say, “Okay, what would you like to communicate?” I know the input that then arrives in my memory is not my own but from elsewhere.
Awareness of how psychic communication arrives makes my psychic abilities a pleasure rather than any sort of burden. It keeps me from worrying about my mental health and enables me to relay messages to clients with confidence.
The Operator
brightclearjoy@gmail.com
(505) 321-1256
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