on becoming psychic.

the awakening.

For most of my life I believed I was invincible. Strong and capable. In charge. Until, that is, I wasn’t any of those things. When I became uncertain about anything? I started questioning everything. Eventually I found the clarity about life — specifically my life — I was seeking. Call it a spiritual awakening. Call it a homecoming. Call it woo-woo or whacky or a little bit out there. It took me some time to get comfortable in this world of thought, too. Throughout my discovery process, I was known to throw out my latest ah-hah moment to unsuspecting friends with this disclaimer: “I’m about to go all Shirley MacLain on you.” [One of the original queens of woo-woo, a personal hero, and someone I had the privilege of asking what her biggest bit of advice was for those of us newbies.]

I have learned for myself, with no small amount of wonder and awe, just how magical the universe really is. The intricacies of manifestation. How to get the answers you need when you need them. The power of intuition. And if it hadn’t happened to me? I probably wouldn’t believe what I’m about to tell you.

skeptic.

I was a skeptic wanting to believe. I had one foot on the ground with logic and analytics and the other in the clouds with wishes and miracles. Hope. I just needed a shred of hope. It was hope that had been stolen from me. Or rather it leaked out of me slowly like a huge blimp in the sky with a pinhole so small no one could have ever noticed so that over the course of many years, the floating beast that was my once formerly happy self had completely deflated into a puddle on the ground.

Without hope, despair sets in. That’s where I was at the end of my first big life crisis: a ten year journey to have a child. I had laid down the drugs and the science, having given up on the medical solutions that had been dangled in front of me in shades of pink and blue and invisible markings that never did appear on a pregnancy test stick. My body was battered, my emotional stability stripped raw and fragile, my marriage strained like a solid rope shredded to its very last tenuous thread.

I had nothing to lose, so I called the psychic that had been recommended to me. I was a gambler rolling the dice with what just as well may have been our last one hundred and fifty dollars. It felt like a reckless luxury of a bet.

Oh how little I understood about it all back then.

oxygen.

There were many important things that came out of this hour long phone call, but the only one that mattered to me at the time was this: You will not be denied a child. She will come to you in the most unexpected ways. Like an answered prayer.

These were the words I clung to. More than clung — they became my oxygen. These words brought me out of a deep dark place and gave me back my hope.

magic.

It would be five years after that phone call that our adopted daughter was born right before our very eyes. And it was an answered prayer. And she did come to us in the most unexpected of ways. And yes, there was magic all around it in such a blatant, demonstrative way that I was awestruck unlike any other time in my life. 

Still it would be many more years until I saw this monumental event for what it really was: a universal plan I had created manifesting right before my very eyes.

questions.

When I experienced my first big loss — the death of my father — I started my spiritual journey in earnest. I had felt so unprepared for it all: watching the spirit leave the body; the grief that ensued and the paralyzing feeling of thinking I was now completely untethered to the man who had been my rock all of my life. Death has a way of bringing forth everything you thought you once believed in and scattering it in the wind. I had zero peace or comfort or any true belief about what happens to the soul after the body dies. I needed some answers: Why are we here? Where do we go when we die? How do we know we are doing what we are supposed to be doing in life? What is our purpose? I had no idea where to look for my resolution; but I did know that I had not found it in the confines of any religious dogma.

answers.

In the thick of my grief I began to read everything I could to get some of the answers I was seeking. Michael Newton’s hypnotherapy work in Journey of Souls: Case Studies of Life Between Lives was one of the first to appease my analytical brain. The science of it all and how it collided so undeniably with the spirit world fascinated me. When I learned that the there was a woman trained by Michael Newton right here in Nashville, Tennessee, I was beyond thrilled. My session was over three hours. When I awoke and discovered what time it was, she grinned and said: “I couldn’t stop! It was so fascinating!”

The Instruction: Living the Life Your Soul Intended by Ainslie MacLeod was another big piece of the puzzle for me. There were many more: Jill Bolte Taylor’s TedTalk, My Son and the Afterlife by Elisa Medhus, M.D.; the work of Abraham and Hicks; Mike Dooley’s daily inspirations. I was a sponge and a student. But I soon discovered I could read about it all I wanted. Knowing it — feeling it — remained just outside my periphery. I was thirsty for a more tangible validation of just what I was here to accomplish, and that led me to a psychic named Frank.

more answers.

Just like the aforementioned session, I had a specific topic I wanted to know about: how to transition from being a “marketer” to a “writer”. By this time I had already been inspired to outline an entire new venture in my head and I was eager to reinvent myself. So when Frank started talking about books and what they would be like and how they would be published, I was both holding my breath and hanging on his every word.

Mostly, I wanted to believe it all, but I held it out in front of me like a shiny trinket in my hand. Sure, it looks pretty. But is it really mine for the taking? I would waffle back and forth between: It is TOTALLY mine for the taking! And: ….I’m not so sure. I waffled HARD. Despite the fact that shortly after meeting with Frank I was accepted as a blogger for the HuffPost and lest I forget about the circumstances that brought me the baby girl I had been dreaming about for over a decade.

I listened to my recorded session with Frank over and over again. And again. And again every day for the next year. Each time soaking up the words in my heart and in my mind until I really did start to believe them.

Then, bolstered with this new (albeit faltering) confidence, and the (mostly) 100% conviction that I was on the right path, I took a wrong turn and a job. Because: It’s downright scary to take a leap of faith, so the security of what was dangled in front of me seemed much more comfortable at the time. Of course the job turned awful because it wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing, and when it imploded I knew I had reached my now or never moment to begin crafting the life that lived in my head. Right around this time I was introduced to another psychic, an astrologer named Rachel. She gave me a lesson about my chart and what it meant to be an Aries with so much Mars influence; and then she proceeded to repeat many of the themes from my reading with Frank. Lastly, she gave me invaluable and pragmatic steps to transition into what she called my “karmic destiny.”

Over time, like the pieces of a giant puzzle or the chapters of a compelling mystery, things started to fall into place and make sense. I began to shed my “I’ll believe it when I see it” challenge [Read: doubt] about it all. Frank and Rachel, gifted with some kind of psychic insight, were clearly tapped into something that was giving them the answers to guide me.

becoming psychic.

The following year I returned to psychic Frank. Building on the foundation he had previously laid for me, he painted a picture like he was scripting a movie and by the end, my mouth, covered by my hand, was wide open in amazement. “You are being psychically awoken,” he said. Followed by words that had appeared in all of the books I was reading. Words like: channeling, intuitive, empath, medium, spirit guides. He talked about how we each have our own unique language with the universe and that I would be shown mine. “You will be invited to things and your job is to just to say yes — to all of it.”

Which is how I came to find myself in a workshop led by astrologer/psychic Rachel and Colby the Psychic Rebel, called “Connecting to Intuition and Spirit” on a beautiful October day in 2015. I took a seat in the center of the semi-circle and cracked opened my laptop so that I could take good notes. They began with a detailed explanation of the difference between intuition and psychic abilities and mediumship, touching on all of the “clairs” — clairvoyant, clairaudient, clairsentient, etc. I typed fastidiously, thinking to myself, wow, they are really going deep into all this psychic stuff.

We were led through a beautiful guided meditation during which we were asked to connect with our spirit guides to feel their love. I had written in my notes afterwards how intensely I felt the presence of my guides and how the love that they exuded permeated me to the core. How it was unlike any other feeling of love I had experienced before — even for my child — and how it made me cry in gratitude. I didn’t want to leave their presence.

At some point thereafter Rachel posed this question: “Who among us here already knows they are psychic?” I smiled as I turned my head to the left and the right — everyone in the room had their hand up but me. Interesting! I thought to myself. My understanding of “being psychic” at the time was that you were born with it; these “gifts” as I thought of them. You either were or you weren’t. When everyone raised their hand but me, I found myself wondering whether or not it was hereditary.

Alight! Let’s have some fun now!” I heard Colby say from the front of the room.

We were asked to stand up, walk up to the first person we see, and use our psychic intuition to say the first thing that comes to our minds. Whoa, hold on a moment. I slowly closed my laptop, tucked it into my bag and considered if I should just leave now or merely sit this exercise out. Either way, I couldn’t participate because I wasn’t psychic. Didn’t they see that I hadn’t raised my hand?

“Everybody up!”

Oh gosh. This is embarrassing. What the heck am I going to do?

“Ready? Let’s go! You can do it! Don’t filter yourself!”

And with that a woman walked up to me, looked straight into my eyes and said: “Welcome home.” It struck me for a moment and I didn’t want to turn away from her. I wanted to know more. Then before I could stop myself I was blurting out the first thing that popped into my brain to all twelve of the other women in the room, consoling myself with this thought: “Well at least they’ll be getting what they need from the real psychics here.”

As the afternoon went on my understanding of just what a psychic is and does expanded exponentially. I learned that we are all born with psychic abilities (for starters: intuition, gut feelings, et al.), but we lose touch with it over the years unless it is nurtured and supported. And that just like a muscle, you can work at your abilities and strengthen them with time — some will come naturally and easy to you, some you can develop and work at.

“Now! Let’s read for one another!” Rachel exclaimed exuberantly.

Fear struck me in the heart again as I looked for a place to hide. This time, I went straight to Rachel and pulled her aside: “Look,” I whispered to her, “I’m not a psychic. I must’ve misunderstood this whole thing! I don’t belong here.To which she laughed out loud and replied: “Kerrie, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t belong here.”

I let that bounce around in a confusing way about my brain until I found myself sitting across from a lovely young woman looking at me expectantly: “You want to go first?” She smiled. “Um, yes, I guess so,” I stammered.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and when I opened them, I found myself looking beyond her, above her head and to the left because I was actually hearing things in my brain. I started speaking. I have no idea what I said, but this woman across from me was nodding her head and had huge tears forming in her eyes, saying, “wow” and “yes, that’s true.”

OK! Now we are going to up the ante just a little bit with these!” said Colby, waving blindfolds in her hand.

She walked right up to me and put on my blindfold, positioning me in a chair in front of the person I was to read for.

“Remember if you are the one being read, give them feedback by tapping their leg to validate as they go along!”

I had a hard time calming myself down and drowning out the voices all around me so I put my hands up to my ears and tried hard to concentrate. In just a moment I saw in my minds eye a library, with a shadow of a figure standing in the middle. I stared at it, wanting to make sure I had it right. The more I silenced my mind, the more vivid the picture became.

I slowly started to speak: “You are surrounded by knowledge. Anything you want to know is right at your fingertips.”

Then the library morphed into a semi-circle of other shadow figures that felt like guides to me.

“And you have experts, many experts, right behind you, ready and willing to give you advice, all you need to do is call on them and listen.”

I don’t remember the rest of what I said, but I know it continued on for a few minutes more before we were instructed to stop and remove our blindfold.

I gasped out loud. Oh my god! Sitting across from me grinning her huge and beautiful grin was none other than Colby, one of the psychics leading the workshop. “I can always tell when someone has a pure connection because they take their words so seriously; YOU, my dear, have a pure connection,” she said.

I drove home that day physically exhausted. And elated. And dumbfounded. What just happened to me? This is CRAZY. I thought to myself. Then: Michael (my husband) is NEVER going to believe this.

Over the course of the next few days I had the opportunity to practice working with my new tools: With one of the girls from the workshop who asked me to lunch the next day. With my hairdresser who was in crisis with her boyfriend. In fact, I found it hard to shut off for awhile.

changed.

How this changed me and my life would (and has) filled hundreds of pages in a detailed journal I keep of it all, marking the huge landmark times when something so completely magical and incredulous happens in bold, so I can flip back to see how it all unfolded. The thing is, it keeps unfolding and keeps getting more magical and incredulous. My perspective and appreciation for all things “woo woo” has reached places I didn’t even know existed. And like I said at the beginning of this post: if it hadn’t have happened to me, I would never have believed it myself.


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