It’s taken years to even begin to get accustomed to knowing the difference between acting on my thoughts and following guidance. What I now call my Intuitive Guidance System, or IGS. So when I ask a deliberate question and get—you guessed it—a whole lot of nothing, well, it feels like something’s gone awry. Like in a really big way.
This is what happened last night. I’d headed back to the Oregon Coast to do one of my metaphysical Afterlife Meetups, which had begun several years ago in the tiny coastal town where I lived with my husband and after he made his transition to the Great Beyond. After moving to Washington State a few months ago, it felt like it was time to head back, to see as many as I could in my beloved community, and maybe even put a little bit of a period at the end of that decade’s sentence. I asked my team in the Great Up There to support me in whatever way was in the best interest of everyone: me, all the participants, the friend with whom I was staying, Source, the drivers on the road…you get the picture. I also asked for some suggestions—a good solid download would be nice—on what to talk about. I mean, I assumed I’d be doing some mediumship because that was always in the cards (so to speak), but what would I talk about? What did I have to say that might be inspirational, that might get minds, bodies, and souls up and doing a little jig?
I asked the week before. Then every day up through my landing at my friend’s house the night before go time. At that point, only the tiniest of little red flags was only beginning to show up on the horizon. As I unpacked my suitcase, I wondered why a room full of people would show up (sans masks for the first gathering of its kind in over two years, I might add) if I had nothing to say?
I was sharing that fact with my friend and expressing that I was still waiting—patiently, I thought, IMHO. She only laughed and said, “It’ll come to you. It always does. You just have to trust it.”
Duh. I sighed. Maybe it was a good time to send up a little white flag instead?
It’s like the old Gerry Seinfeld show: a show about, you guessed it, nothing. And yet, it turns out, nothing can not only end up the basis of a gazillion or so seasons of one of the greatest shows ever, but the basis of, you guessed it, everything.
The way having “nothing” to talk about until the last minute can reveal exactly what’s been on your mind or in your heart or soul.
Or maybe how it can reveal your ego side, the one that’s screaming, “I’m not good enough. What am I doing here? I thought I had something worthwhile to share?” …And demand you look at it.
Or how there’s more in the “nothingness” than you could ever have imagined.
Maybe it’s even where, if you settle in, your mind takes a break and your spirit gets to shine. Where, if you’re willing, you can find and trust—your true, highest, Self. And where, if your IGS is invited to steer the car for you, you can actually relish the ride.
This article is a reprint of an article published in the Eden Magazine and Sherri Cortland's Windows of Opportunity Newsletter.
First, let’s set the scene. Sherri Cortland (the amazing author and coach) is my guest speaker for tonight’s online Afterlife Meetup. I’ve been hosting meetups like these for several years, the last two on zoom, where I offer mediumship, meditation, and guided music. Sherri and I had met right up through the day before, and had fully agreed on our intention, presentation, and zoom-related elements. Everything should go off without a hitch.
Yeah. That’s what I said.
It seems the Spirit World had a different idea entirely. No matter how many links I sent, Sherri couldn’t seem to join the meeting. No matter which computer she tried, she couldn’t access the class. Finally, using her phone, she made it in, but couldn’t see any of the participants other than me. She couldn’t share her PPT presentation, nor could she play the flute music I’d sent her as background for her meditation.
Fortunately, given our knowledge of the perfection of the universe — even when it feels as if we’re being thrown overboard without a life preserver — we plowed ahead, and Sherri facilitated all of us, sight unseen, through layers of guided chakra meditation and automatic writing, her tools for direct communication with Spirit. And we all LOVED it. Especially me.
Being mostly clairsentient, I don’t think of myself as someone who does “automatic writing.” And yet, here I sit yet again, having the words flow through my fingers as if they were written already and I’m just typing them into the computer. As if I’m hearing them for the first, and yet not at all the first, time. Before I do a mediumship session with a client, I sit quietly and write down all the things that come to me, no matter how strange, unsettling, or crazy they may appear to be. I get song lyrics, names, visuals of all sorts of things that don’t make sense to me, but always, in some shape or form, make sense to the client. I’ve had to learn to trust that in order for me to receive validation, I have to have the courage to speak the information out loud. Not an easy thing to do until you keep doing it…and doing it…and doing it.
At the meetup with Sherri, after listening to her incredibly articulate explanation of how auto-writing works and we’d watched as she demonstrated her process first-hand (pun sort of intended), we got to give it a try ourselves.
What I didn’t expect is what happened, of course. Not only did I receive information in the same way I do prior to seeing a client where words, thoughts, and pictures come through my pen, but Jeremy, one of Sherri’s Spirit Guides, made his presence known. I argued with him that he was Sherri’s not mine, but he insisted he was “on loan.” Five minutes later I had words like “speckled hen” and “thumbtack,” along with a very loving message reminding us all to know how magical we are. To know and own our own magic and share it with the world.
I don’t know about you, but it was the speckled hen-and-thumbtack thing that really got my attention. Not that it made any sense at the time. But, like I said, the stranger the information, the more certain it is that it means something important. In this case, to my new client today, who had just lost her husband. The look on her face when I mentioned the hens (she works in a gift store with lots of ceramic hens) was sheer incredulousness, but when I got to thumbtacks (her husband used to tack endless notes up on the wall to himself), and there’s no way to describe her reaction.
The upshot? Use automatic writing. Use meditation. Use any tool that feels good.
Just keep doing it.
(As always, if you're interested in a personal reading, customized healing music, or grief counseling, I'd love to hear from you!)