Chosen

He can smell the weather, sort of like a snake can detect smells with its tongue. I intuit his intuitive abilities far outreach mine. He can speak and understand, on some level, any language, any language, human, alien or animal. He is a divining rod for deceased people. He can’t stop the frequency he emits and they flock to him by the hundreds. They look like settlers from the 1800’s and they say they are there to protect him and the land.

This man, this externally average Joe is anything but ordinary. He is, I am told, the Elite of the Elite. There are about 20 of his kind in the entire World. Let me put that into perspective; out of 7.5 BILLION people, he is one of twenty.

Each time I’ve worked with him, the Land (I capitalize it as it is a proper title to these folks) is first and foremost during his sessions. “You must purify the Land” they say. Some of his cattle and dogs have died from no apparent reason. When he asked about this, I was told for him to check the water supply.  He did so and nothing was out of the ordinary. And yet, still more cattle perished.

Lights go on and off in his home, he hears noises that don’t have any obvious sources. He replaces the smoke detector batteries more often than you can say “Put nine volts on the shopping list, will ya, hon?” Items will appear or disappear. Temperature changes are a constant. He has built his newer home on land that has been in his family for centuries.

His wife is resentful of what she doesn’t understand but both his boys are aware and accepting. He is, understandably, very protective of his family. He, truly, just wants to be left alone, to be “normal” but that is not to be. He can no more stop what has been started then we can ask the sun to rise in the West. He has been Chosen but, in truth, he signed up for this.

Day and night he sees/feels them. Day and night they come, these settlers. They are building a community there, at his home. They call it “Canyon Falls.” I’m shown a vision of people peacefully and politely strolling on the wooden planked walks of their dusty astral main street.

There are Native American spirits there, as well. They hold to the outer edges of the property and are very respectful of him as they practice the “old” ways. They, I am told, are waiting for him to grant permission to perform their Spring Rite and to help sanctify the Land. I can see their fires and he states he often sees them as well. With that image, I am no longer standing in my office. I am at his farmstead, as it is in reality and as it is with an opaque overlay.

There are two powerful Braves/Warriors standing on either side of his home’s entryway. They are in full headdress, wearing war paint; their lithe bodies are tense, coiled, and alert. Their eyes are vigilant. They both take their post seriously; there is no room for failure.

A strawberry blond little girl wearing braids and a pioneer bonnet softly takes my hand. I intuitively know she is mute. I look at her beautiful, freckled face and she smiles a smile that is years older than she appears to be. She silently turns to the West, extends her other arm/hand and points towards the setting sun. I gaze at her profile which is warmed and enhanced by the orange glow. Her gentle smile reflects complete trust. She is showing me something, giving me a message, but it’s meant for him to decipher.

I sense something from a shadowed outside corner of his house. An inky black, wrinkled, leathery hand emerges. The little bonneted miss holding my hand is gone and I am floating about five feet above the dusty ground. I am not whole, but see-through, like an apparition. I watch as a charred and blackened humanoid face materializes of out the darkness. Something akin to a snarling smile flashes revealing yellowed teeth tapered to points. His two eyes are large, larger than any human I’ve ever seen, more like Dobby from Harry Potter. The sclera is a dingy, dull yellow with a black circle for the lens and pupil.

He says something to me and I think to myself, “Should I be frightened of him?” He does frighten me but I do not fear him. I sense he can’t touch me; he can’t harm me as my energy is much, much higher than his. I tell him we all have good and bad inside of us and he gets to choose what he’d like to be.

I wonder if this is one of or the one that is killing the hapless cattle and causing other negative issues. He tells me he will wait for his time, alluding to upcoming malice. Before I can respond, I hear hundreds of voices speak as one, “The People of Canyon Falls will not allow it. We will stone him.”  With that, his visage slowly retreats into the shadows.  I had this thought that the man who lives here should buy a million floodlights and illuminate his entire farmstead from here to Kingdom Come.

In a blink of an eye, I’m standing in my office again, but the People still hold my attention. They tell me it is imperative that he purify the Land, make it clean again. I ask him about organic farming and he says that’s an option. I tell him it’s not his entire acreage they want purged, but a small portion. That portion is to grow an elite crop of what appears to be wheat. I get the sense that the wheat will feed more people than all other farms combined. It’s pure somehow.

These people are here to protect him, but he feels smothered. It’s hard for him to concentrate and finish tasks and Spring planting is upon him. He has found me (with their help, he says) and has asked that I help communicate with them, quiet his mind and validate he is not going insane.

He is the Chosen and is one of twenty.


Melissa’s Note: I had this humble farmer and big brother Corey (Kyle blog) back to back. I slept until 11:30 the day after our sessions. Those dead people really know how to parrrtayyyy.

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Kyle

When Corey tried to schedule a session, I didn’t have any openings until the end of June but I had a suspicion I’d get a cancellation. Sure enough, the next day I had an opening for mid-May and then within a few more days, I had another for the following week. Evidently “someone” had pulled some powerful strings as Corey was able to see me the week after his initial phone call. That’s virtually unheard of.

Corey tells me his brother, Kyle, has been appearing in his dreams and most recently, at the foot of his bed. Kyle said, “You’ve got to call her.” Corey replied he’d do it when he was ready. Kyle, in a voice that brooked no discussion said, “Now” and so Corey did. He laughs and says when Kyle used to say “jump” he would respond, “What boots do you want me to wear?”

Corey’s younger and only brother died in a tragic auto accident over two years ago as he was just beginning his adult life. He was going to college, had a girlfriend and wanted to farm the land. He was just 20 years old when he left us.

Before Corey can verbally ask Kyle says, “There was no pain.” Corey’s eyes widen and Kyle says he was unconscious once his head hit the ground. As he begins to tell me what happened, I feel a blinding headache and then all sensation from my neck down is gone. I feel paralyzed. Kyle validates my empathic feelings by telling me he remembers a sudden bad headache and then there was no feeling after that. He said he wasn’t “there” when the weight of the vehicle crushed his spine.

Corey begins to ask more questions about the accident but Kyle has had enough. He gets a bit testy and says, “No more! I’m done answering questions about my death. Move ON!” This elicits a smile from his older brother who responds, “Typical Kyle.”

Corey was a flight paramedic but left that job for something emotionally safer after Kyle’s death. He tells me he did it because he wanted to be closer to his parents. Kyle snarls and I relay, “You fucking pussy.” And then to me he vehemently says, “Don’t let him by with his lying bullshit.”

The reality is Corey developed PTSD after Kyle’s accident and he started to doubt his own ability to help others. He also admits he feels dead inside. Kyle, in no uncertain terms, is NOT happy about Corey’s decision to hide and to stop living.

Corey asks Kyle, “What is it I’m supposed to do?!” and Kyle answers, “Follow your passion, what’s in your heart and head, man?” And then I’m shown an image of a premature, tiny baby. I ask Corey about this and he makes a grimacing face and chokingly says he’s afraid of babies.

I continue to see images of him holding wailing, distressed babies and them calming instantly because of his energy. I hear he is maternal and has an innate gift of knowing what needs to be done. He says he has no interest in working with babies. I tell him I may have uncovered a seed for him but it’s up to him to see if it will grow.

Kyle tells me a name, “Shep.” It’s the same name I’ve heard for all three of his family members. I thought it was a dog but Corey tells me there’s a doctor – a PEDIATRIC doctor – he used to work with by that name. Hummmm…

Kyle moves on and teasingly confides in me that he hasn’t forgiven his brother for pushing him off the roof. He admits to totally pranking his older brother by having books tip over, the garage door open and repeatedly knocking on walls.  Corey says with a smile, “I KNEW it!” and then good naturedly admits yelling at Kyle to “knock it the fuck off.”

This is brother stuff. Teasing, bugging, irritating and pushing buttons but the comradery and love between these two hasn’t dissipated one ounce because one of them has changed appearances. Kyle compassionately says, “Tell my brother I love him, I respect him and I’m proud of him. Tell him he was the best brother I could have hoped for. Tell him to keep going and to get in the game. Tell him to start living.”

Kyle tells me that there is no anger where he is and so for us to keep housing anger is just bullshit.  I’ve been told this by angels, but hearing Kyle say it, in the manner in which he SAID it, makes me smile. Corey admits he is still working through some anger. Kyle then says, “Forgive” and smiles while he jokingly says his name should be, “Friggin’ Kyle Forgiveness.” He then dramatically raises his arms out to his sides and up over his head while theatrically breaking into the song, “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina.”  Corey looks incredulous, cracks a smile and says he JUST watched that movie. Of course you did, Corey.  Uh huh.

Kyle, now switching gears and becoming very earnest says, “Tell him I love him. Again. Tell him again. It’s important he hears it.”

As I am finishing his brother’s session, Kyle reveals to me why he had to leave this earth. He softly and quietly whispers there was a baby who needed him. He says he always wanted children. My eyes widen and I sense that this baby was worthy of giving his own life for. What I felt was the unfailing and unquestionable love of a parent who unselfishly and unhesitatingly gives their own life for their child’s. Kyle didn’t even question it when he was Called; he just folded his cards and left.

Kyle is clearly just as alive in death as he was in life. He is funny, quick tempered and a prankster. He calls me a “cool chick” and tells me he wants to hang out with me even when his family isn’t around. His energy is big and he easily fills my head, overriding anything or anyone that wants to appear or talk. As Corey said, the party begins when Kyle arrives. Yes, as in life, as in death. Kyle is, again, proof positive that life doesn’t end just because we die.


About 2 weeks after I published this blog, Kyle started telling me to tell Corey, “You’re picking up what I’m LAYING DOWN.”  I poo-poo’d Kyle as I don’t like to do my Work outside of session.  This morning Kyle had enough of me saying no so I text Corey.  Here was Corey’s response:

“Yesterday I had an ambulance call for a baby having a seizure. When I got there, the baby was not breathing and unresponsive. I was able to get the baby back and awake.

When we got to the ER, he was snuggled up in my arms. He didn’t like the nurses and just screamed and screamed when I gave him to them. I then picked him up off the ER bed and he immediately stopped crying and laid in my arms….

Before bed last night I was thinking of that call and it came to me what you said about me calming a crying baby. I called my mom and said, ‘Holy shit! It happened!’ Just unbelievable.”

So now it makes perrrrfect sense why Kyle was being such a Kyle and wanting me to tell his brother exactly that.

 

Kyle has appeared many times in both his mother and his brother’s sessions. He most recently became very agitated towards his mom for “not moving on” and made no bones about it. He is often in my personal life and I welcome his appearances. If you’d like to read about how he helped me with a personal issue, read “Sober.

Dick

I have a client whose deceased husband has been coming to her sessions, almost without fail, for about two years.  Their love for each other has clearly transcended boundaries and it continues even while one of them is no longer in human form.

Dick is a joy to communicate with. Sometimes he is quiet and takes everything in, other times he is all smiles and eager to talk.  Sometimes he does energy work on his wife right alongside of (or through) me and sometimes he lets me have the floor.

He is respectful, courteous and polite and has a fabulously dry sense of humor which brings happy tears to his wife’s blue eyes.

He shows up in human form or as the color orange. Sometimes I don’t see him but he telepathically talks to me. Sometimes he shares quips about his life with his beloved and sometimes he tells me information about the spiritual realm.

In life, Dick was a scientist and a professor which made him naturally analytical/logical. He preferred to do things that didn’t involve people. His wife, on the other hand, loves helping people and Dick didn’t understand this need. He also didn’t believe in his wife’s ‘hunches’ and he most certainly would never have given Reiki or channeled messages the time of day.

But now, in death, he tells me he has been ‘awakened.’

Last month, right around the time we were learning about downed air crafts, Dick briefly popped into session and seemed excited but worn-out and rushed. This was a far cry from his normal calming, sedate and respectful manner. It was kind of as if he was overwhelmed with the enormity of something.

He said he couldn’t stay as he had a lot of work to do. He said he and others were helping newly deceased souls find Home.  He popped in and out of my client’s session that day. He was clearly torn; he really wanted to be with his wife and to have me communicate his words, but he had obligations elsewhere.

During my client’s most recent session, Dick returned and he was enthusiastically excited.  He said he has been tasked to work with people. He, and others, were helping souls leave their physical body and return to energy, just like him. He told his wife he didn’t realize how tiring dealing with emotions could be. His wife of 40 years laughed and said that dealing with emotions was NOT his specialty. She found comfort in the knowledge he was learning to do so.

Up until Dick’s recent communication, I thought once you died and became a soul you’d live on Heaven’s easy street. You know, nothing to do because it was already done. You were free from all pain, you took a vacation from all this spiritual learning crap and you played golf/cards or fished/napped all day until you reincarnated. But Dick’s revelations about his continued learning left me questioning all of what I thought.

Dick knew what I was thinking because my brain was instantly flooded with a whole bunch of telepathic information concerning this. For instance, I knew Dick was helping individuals who died en masse by guiding their ascending souls from earth.  I knew it wasn’t just Dick doing this; it was a large group or ‘pocket’ of entities (200 or so) who had banded together to help and they’re very happy doing so.

I learned that once you physically die your work or maybe more appropriately, what you need to work ON, doesn’t stop. You are given opportunities to learn and grow by taking, ummm, let’s call them classes.  As is the case with Dick, he was given the opportunity to spiritually advance – after his physical death – by learning about and dealing with the complexities of human emotions.  The last piece of knowledge I remember is that there are literally thousands of courses you could enroll in.

After our session ended, it once again occurred to me how fantastic this gift of communicating with the deceased (and the Ascended) is.  It also, once again, reminded me of how limited my human brain is.  I believe strongly at one point my brain knew all of this information as I had literally been there and done that.  But in order to not overload the circuits, I (we, really) had to forget some stuff so we could eat, drink and be merry.

I love these sessions with my client and her deceased husband. It reminds me that there IS more out there, that love doesn’t stop just because one person has left the physical plane (right, Angie?) and that death ISN’T the end.

How fabulous is that?

Medium

“Tell her about my comb” he said while sitting in a chair a few feet from me. I raised my eyebrows and said, “He wants me to tell you something about a comb?” My client starting laughing and said, “Melissa! He didn’t have any hair but he always carried a black comb in his pocket! It was a running joke in our family!!” and then she became quiet as tears streamed from her eyes. She had lost the man who was sitting in front of me, her husband, to an insatiable cancer just a few months prior to our session.

On another day and with another client, her (deceased) husband was in session with us once again. He showed up during our first session and re-appeared often during the following sessions. Sometimes he is in human form and sometimes he’s a glowing ball of orange energy that roughly resembles the human shape.

I was over this client’s stomach when I intuited the words, “butter cookies.” I told her it appeared her tummy wanted butter cookies. She, with a slow smile spreading across her face said no, it was her husband. She said she had talked with him on her way to our session and had asked him to make a reference to butter cookies. Evidently, once upon a time, she had made butter cookies and brought him a plateful. Her intent was to finish up a few things and then share the cookies with him. When she returned, the plate was empty and her husband was grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

Another story has the granddaughter wanting to know about her recently deceased grandmother. I instantly saw a rose and at the same time, heard the word. I asked her if her grandma’s name was Rose. She said no, but she placed a red rose on her casket. Grandma didn’t appear in my office but said she was “too busy to stop by as she was playing cards” and “could we reschedule?” My client said, “Yep! Sounds just like grandma!”

I’ll share one more story and it’s about a client’s long deceased grandmother; a woman whom my client had never met. This soul wanted my client to know she had a lineage in dealing with healing herbal remedies. My client told me herbs had always resonated with her but she never knew why.

Some of these deceased individuals tell me they’ll be ‘moving on’ soon as they have ‘work’ to do. This is code for they’ll be leaving behind the ability to make their presence known either to me or their loved one. Some thank me profusely for being open to communicate. Others say nothing and request I not let their loved one know they are there as they don’t wish to be a distraction. Still others wish to help with the Reiki session itself.

These deceased souls are thrilled to have someone to communicate through. Each and every time I’ve been a part of these exchanges, they have been filled with gentleness, compassion, love and reassurance.

One deceased husband conspiratorially told me he was ‘pulling strings’ for his wife but he had to be careful as he could upset the balance if he went too far. He assured me, and I assured her, he was doing all he could to help her. Then he approached her side, put his energetic hand over hers, bent slightly forward and gazed so gently and lovingly into her eyes that I felt like an interloper. I was moved to tears by what I saw and felt. It was as if he was capturing her image – or drinking it in – one last time.

The unconditional love these – and countless others – have shared did not diminish with one of their deaths; it transcended.

Melissa’s Note: For those of you who still physically have your loved ones, a regret openly expressed by those who remain is they wish they could have hugged their loved one again. You have the opportunity to do just that.