Meeting my children
To me, there is no gift more beautiful than that of a child. To welcome a soul into your life and share that journey with them is the most magical of all experiences. My role as a Mother has been my biggest joy, as I am sure many parents around the world would equally attest to. It has not always been an easy road, yet the sacrifices surely outweigh the smiles that glow upon their little faces and the pride that comes from watching their achievements.
My own introduction into Motherhood was not the most traditional start, but it is one that I have always been honest about, learning and growing from the child that launched me into the adult world. She was my guide from one phase of life into the next and even still she continues to teach me things that I never could have learned without her. Each child that followed seemed to do the same, leading me forward holding my hand and building the bridge between a life that I knew into a brand new existence. However, much unlike some Mothers, I got to meet my children years before some of them arrived to this earthly plane to join me. Getting the privilege of preparation is something I have always been very grateful for and when these little souls arrived I knew how special they all were going to be in their own unique way.
My first child decided to arrive into my life at a time when I was still trying to figure out exactly who I was and who I wanted to be. It was only about a month before my sixteenth birthday when I discovered that Motherhood was meant to be a part of that bigger picture of who I would become. While I knew like most girls that I wanted children sometime down the line, I must admit I wasn’t expecting it right at that moment. Yet somehow I wasn’t shocked either, I let the news wash over me and began to adjust to what was essentially an entrance into the unknown. There was no sense of panic, only a plan that I knew I had to form to prove to myself and those around me that I would not become just another statistic. My primary focus just a short walk away from finding out that she was coming, was to finish my education. I knew nothing about the sort of Mother I was to be, I only knew at that moment in my life the kind of Mother I didn’t want this child to have. I didn’t want her to look up to a Mother who had no example to set and no means to provide for her. The rest I knew we would simply have to learn together. I remember asking the powers that be to give her the gift of forgiveness and compassion, so that perhaps any failings on my part may be overlooked through her eyes and in return I swore I’d do whatever it took to ensure she was happy.
Perhaps Spirit decided that I could use a little more preparation, or maybe I was reaching out subconsciously to the universe to see how this whole journey would turn out. Either way I remember laying in my bed not long after the news that I was with child, looking down and with a hand on my stomach I began to converse with this little soul that was making her way to me. Instinctively I knew I was having a girl, I recall just knowing that as some sort of fact regardless of the reality she and I were only weeks into our time together. I made a lot of promises to her that night and laid there wondering if there were more children one day that might want to join us. I wasn’t ready for an entire family experience, but the whole process of being launched into this place made me curious about her and whether she would get to share her experiences with other siblings. As I drifted off to sleep, my Spirit Guide decided to pay me a visit and allowed me to see the others that were destined to arrive. This dream has been a memory recalled many times through the years and I still remember it like it was yesterday.
My dream began with me walking toward a big purple tent, which sat alone in what looked to be a grassy, wooded area. I went inside and before me sat an old Gypsy woman, dressed in all the attire one would expect from some sort of movie scene. This woman would later appear to me again in time, as she has been one of my main guides through my lifetime. I sat down at her table and she looked up at me in the dream and asked me to cross her palm with silver and she would tell me my fortune. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a huge silver coin and placed it in her hands. She took the coin and then simply said You are here about your children, so I shall tell you. The first is a girl, an independent child filled with strength and light. She is here for you. The other two shall carry my bloodline, Romany Gypsy and these two shall be born under the same Father. The next image I recall in the dream is a photograph of three kids standing together smiling. The eldest girl stood in the back, her hair was blonde and she looked around the age of 15 or 16. To her left stood a boy, who looked very different to his sister and I knew somehow he would be the spitting image of his Father as he bore less resemblance to me. He had short dark brown hair, big eyes and was quite slim. He appeared to be around the age of 9 or 10. The final child stood to the right of the photo, she looked very much like I did as a little girl with long light brown hair, beautiful eyes and a sweet smile. I guessed her age to be about 3 or 4. This photographic image in my dream was so amazingly vivid and seemed to just sit there while I studied it in awe.
When I awoke the next morning, I was overcome with a sense of peace. I sat upright in bed pondering over the details of it and working out what I believed to be their ages in the picture and the things she said to me about the children. It seemed that each of my three children would have about six years between them all, and the order of course was a girl first, boy next and then another little girl. When the news was broken to my parents that I was expecting, the shock later turned to waves of support with the excitement and acceptance of a new family member that was so overwhelming. I recall my Mother telling me that I was going to have a boy, as she had always wanted a son herself and hoped that her first grandchild would give her that opportunity to enjoy a little boy around. Due to her persistence I remember being at my ultrasound appointment and her joking with the sonographer that she felt she was having a grandson. I looked up at the woman and quite plainly said to her Could you please tell my Mother that it’s a girl, because she keeps insisting it’s not and I already know it is. I was right of course. My eldest was the first born daughter to the men in her Father’s family in what I believe is about five or six generations. She is a very special girl indeed. For the years that followed I was always open to others about the sex of each child that was to come, the years that would be between them and the faith that somehow they would all find their way to me when the time was right.
This dream turned out to be a valuable clue to a major life decision that I made years later, which is another story for another time. I have gone on to have each of the children that was shown to me in this dream. My son came into my life six years after his sister and he does indeed resemble his Father perfectly. Six years after him, a little girl arrived who looks almost identical to me as a child and oddly enough both of those children have come through Romany Gypsy bloodlines just as my Guide had said all those years ago. Yet, these were the children destined to me, but there was one more that I choose to bring into this life. A child not destined from the beginning, but one I also met before he was even conceived. His story I feel should be told all on its own, not because he is any more special or unique to the others, but because his story has taught me some very powerful lessons.
Of all my guides in life, these souls are the ones I have been the most grateful for. To have been given the deep insight into their lives ahead of time was a gift I shall always feel thankful to have received. I can see now that the journey ahead was filled with so many twists and turns that perhaps without the knowledge of those few key things about them, things may have not shaped where I am in life and how I’d get to these points. From the moment I had that dream, I held onto that photographic image as though it already existed and the wondrous way in which they all came to bring me here still makes me take a step backwards in sheer amazement. Yet it also helped me to form some of my deeper ideals about this journey of the soul and my belief that perhaps we do indeed make soul pacts amongst each other well before we even begin the journey through life itself.
At times I am asked if living a psychic life is any different from the norm, if I somehow am given the steps to my journey ahead of time. Most of the time I smile, and simply say that once I had the greatest pleasure in meeting four powerful teachers and that each one has eventually given me the honour of calling me their Mother.
Read MoreThe Gift
A little boy comes into his Mother’s room, in his hands he carries a small shoebox lovingly decorated with childlike drawings of hearts and scribbles. He beams with pride as he sits down on the bed next to his Mother and hands her the box.
”What’s this?” She asks ”A gift, just for me?” The little boy smiles nodding and encourages her to open it. As she lifts the lid, she finds nothing inside. Looking up at her smiling boy she waits for enlightenment. ”I put all my love for you in there Mommy” As her heart sinks, she tightly hugs her little man and kisses him on the forehead. She closes her eyes and wipes a tear away.
On his Graduation day his Mother stands beaming beside him. Tearful to see her son on the brink of adulthood, eager to see the man he’ll become. Cameras are flashing in every direction and he looks at his Mother ”Just one of the two of us?” She places her arms around her son and smiles proudly for the picture.
Now a man he stands nervous awaiting his bride. All eyes sit patiently smiling, flowers cover the room and he looks at the front and smiles at his Mother. She sits armed with tissues, watching her little boy become a married man. Her heart leaps right out of her chest when he kisses his bride, never more proud she cries knowing he’ll become a loving husband.
The phone rings, at the news she catches her breath and says nervously ”I’m on my way”. When she arrives at the hospital she sees her son standing with a wide smile. ‘‘Its a boy!” She screams with excitement and he takes her to the room where Mother and child sit exhausted. His wife smiles and hands her the baby. ”He looks just like you did” She says to her son. ”Poor kid” He says jokingly and she flashes a grin. Her son, now a Father, no more proud could she be.
As the years pass by, two more grandchildren arrive. Her home filled with pictures and memories of her family. Her body grows slow, her mind ever sharp and she sits thankful for each blessing she’s had in her life. Heartbroken, her little boy sits by her bedside. She gazes up at him and smiles ”I want you to have something” and she points to the shelf of her bedside table. Her son pulls out an old shoebox, faded now are the hearts and scribbles, but still he can see. Confused he looks at his Mother and lifts the lid. Inside sits an envelope, with his name lovingly written on the front.
My Dearest Son,
One day I sat in my room alone, worrying. It was two days before your 7th birthday and I had very little money to buy you a present. You came into the room holding this box, I’ll never forget how proud you looked to give it to me. When I opened it, there was nothing inside, you looked at me and quite simply said it had all your love for me in it. It was the best gift anyone had ever given me.
This box has seen me through all the hardships in my life and gave me strength anytime I needed it. Whenever I would sit in my room worrying, I sat holding this box remembering your little face. I’ve watched you become a man, a Husband, a Father but always, always you were my little boy.
That day you filled this box with every bit of love for me, so I’ve spent the years filling it with all my pride for you. Your love saw me through the darkest days. There isn’t a thank you worthy enough for this gift, so I will simply say
I love you with all my heart.
Mom
Read MoreDiscovering the Tarot
There are points along this journey of mine which were particularly key moments in my transformation into being a professional psychic. The beauty of these moments for me now, where that none of them were forced or sought out, they just transpired and appeared into my life without any prompting at all. I hold onto the belief that they were all meant to be, that somehow in the scheme of the bigger picture the universe helped to shape all of this into a divine plan. I am still in awe each day with how things manifest in this life of ours, how Spirit can reach a hand out and guide you when you are too far off the beaten path. Somehow we all end up back where we are meant to, with each little twist and turn more adventurous than the next. It is when we look back that we truly see the real power in what took place and this is exactly how I see each little piece of my own puzzle when I reflect and look at how it all fit together in the end. It is nothing short of amazing when you stop and think about it.
The tarot has been a very integral part of my path to this point, as it was the tool that helped me begin reaching out to others and start reading for them. I have one person for this introduction to thank and if I had one wish in my life it is to truly let her know that a thank you does no justice to the feelings of gratitude that I hold for the gift that she bestowed onto me back then. For what she gave me turned out to be a key to the life I am now living. I wish in a way I could show her and help her understand the magnitude of that, because since that time I have literally been invited into thousands of lives over the past 18 years.
Her name is Denise and I met her back when we were in middle school. We danced around one another’s lives for those precious years of growth, at times being very close friends and other times our lives were lived parallel to one another experiencing different things. I knew even then she was a special soul, she was someone that often radiated a positive vibration even if she felt that life was a struggle as we all did. When we were both 16, I recall her discovering her interest in reading the tarot through a friend of hers and I remember her asking me if I wanted a reading. Naturally I did, I was curious and had never before seen anyone truly use the cards and I sat there with an open mind to see what she had to say. To be perfectly honest, I cannot remember what came out of that reading and all the little details, I just remember her looking in her book and her asking me to forgive her because she was still learning all the meanings to the cards. She had the Hanson-Roberts tarot deck and a lovely little blue book that she was flicking through reading all the meanings for me and putting her new skills to good use giving me a reading. From the moment she laid out the cards, I had this overwhelming connection to them and I just remember thinking to myself I have to do this, I have to buy a deck. When our reading was over I expressed these feelings, I told her that I was eager to learn and buy a deck for myself. She smiled and said I should, but she told me that traditionally someone was to gift the first deck to me that I wasn’t supposed to buy them. I must have had a look of disappointment on my face, because she looked at me and said it should be perfectly fine, that I should just get a deck anyway and see what happened. She told me all the things I must do to keep them, buy a cloth to read upon, get a little box to put them in and sleep with them under my pillow for 7 nights to establish a good connection.
That day I went straight to my then boyfriend and told him that I wanted to run out and get a deck of tarot cards, thankfully he was very supportive. Within a few days I remember us both being out looking in the little shops of our town in the places we thought we might purchase a deck and finally came upon one that sold everything that I needed. I picked up the same deck as Denise had, the Hanson-Roberts tarot deck, a little piece of dusky pink silk cloth to keep them in and a hand carved box just the right size for the deck to be stored in. When we got to the till my boyfriend smiled at me and very unexpectedly said Let me buy them for you, as a gift. There it was, tradition kept to and my first deck given to me by someone very special at that point in my life. I did everything she had told me to do, I slept with my new deck under my pillow for 7 nights and got them out each day to start teaching myself the meanings of each card, using only the tiny little booklet that came inside the box with the cards.
Not long after I got my new deck, I was at a school lesson with Denise and I brought the deck to show her everything that I had gotten. Having some free time on our hands she looked at me and asked me to do her a reading, see how I was getting on with my new cards. I was nervous, I told her that I wasn’t all that clued up on each of the cards just yet and that it would probably be a very off base reading. She just laughed and said we all start somewhere, bless her. I laid everything out, I shuffled and did a celtic cross spread for her and worked through the reading. I remember her just sitting there and what she did after is forever etched in my memory, because it has been another truly defining moment in my life from that day. She looked up at me, her face looked probably the most serious and sombre that I had ever seen it to that day and she simply said You are so good at this, I’m never reading my cards again. I just laughed her off and told her not to be so silly. She reached into her bag on the table and pulled out the blue book she had been using and handed it to me Here, take this I want you to have it. You are supposed to do this Mesina. I couldn’t accept it, I told her I’d buy the book myself and it wasn’t necessary that she’d need it. She insisted and I reluctantly took the book a little stunned, I didn’t quite know what I had said that made her believe I was any better than she was. I looked down at the book now in my hands and read the title, Tarot Unveiled: The Method to its Magic. The picture on the cover was of a card I’d seen in my Hanson-Roberts deck, a gypsy woman holding back a green curtain revealing a darkness behind it. You see, one year before that I had a dream with a Spirit Guide of mine that has come to me over the years since, a Gypsy woman that these memoirs will in time share with you. So to see this image at that moment was hugely significant to me.
I still have this very book in my possession; it is now tattered and worn with the front cover having come away a few years ago from being opened so many times. It is and always will be a treasured item in my life, a memento of a special moment I shared with a very dear friend. I haven’t used the book in many years now, but it was my teacher, my silent mentor in the new world of Tarot that I was discovering. From this book I taught myself to read, I began to understand the meanings of each card, exploring and developing until finally I managed to put the book away and let it rest. While my original deck has retired, I still keep it in the box that I bought for it, the dusky pink scarf wrapped around holding it like a little secret. All the pieces are tired, the cards showing lines of the many shuffles they did for me, each one a little memory of the learning process I went through. I think of all the people those cards spoke about, of all the stories they’ve told me.
I still use the Hanson-Roberts deck even today, though I tried a few other decks along the way it never felt right. For me, using the same style deck is my way of honouring someone very dear to my heart, like an eternal thank you. If there is anything I have learned in my life so far, it is that gratitude is the biggest key to the journey of developing. When you really absorb the moments of thanks in your life, you never miss a single blessing that comes your way.
For everything in my life, I am forever grateful that I didn’t miss hers.
The many faces of Honesty
Imagine for one second, your life without honesty. Honesty enters your life in many forms, has been there from the time you arrived until the day your last breath is taken. Think about it, you don’t have to look that hard to see.
Somewhere today a Mother is laying her eyes for the first time upon her newborn baby. After many months she is finally able to see the shining face she’s longed for. Nothing exists in that room except that child and she cries. That is the beauty of honesty.
Sometimes honesty comes wrapped in a tiny package, presented by a grown man who gets down on one knee, exposing himself vulnerable to the woman he loves. Inside a little diamond is beckoning her to marry him. That is the love of honesty.
Honesty takes the voice of a little girl, who clearly and confidently announces that she hates little Billy down the road, because he’s full of cooties. That is the innocence of honesty.
Inside every airport in the world, honesty is present in thousands of faces there every day. Faces of friends, families and lovers saying hello after long periods apart, greeting one another with such force they cannot even speak. Saying goodbye with long embraces, tears and sadness and promises of return one day. In every face there is honesty’s devotion.
A man sits down after a long hard day, he gazes out the window in contemplation, with so much on his mind he struggles to relax. As he looks down, his dog’s head rests concerned on his lap and he smiles. Right there, is the loyalty of honesty.
In a dark room a woman sits alone staring at her wedding photo. She hears the sound of her husband’s footsteps as he walks out the front door. As the door slams shut, she’s forced to go on in her life without him. That is the pain of honesty.
A young man stands at the doorway of his parent’s home, taking a deep breath before the door opens. He comes to bear his soul about all that he truly is and to say that there could never be the perfect woman for him. His heart belongs to another man. That is the truth of honesty.
A chopper sounds loudly in the sky, on the ground many troops are moving swiftly to safety. Gunshots are heard in every direction, as the men look up they see an explosion not too far away. Every Officer takes stock of who’s still with them, seeing only the memories of those who no longer are. That is the price of honesty’s freedom.
Eating away at a woman’s heart is a secret she keeps in silence. To unleash it would change the life she knows. She tries hard to confront the door she keeps tightly closed, she opens her mouth so many times to give it away but only silence ensues. That is the fear of honesty.
An old couple lies in bed each night, instead of chatting endlessly about nothing at all, they smile lovingly at one another. Pictures of their children and grandchildren scatter the house, a life long together, they’ve seen so much holding hands. That’s not just love and devotion you’re seeing, it’s honesty’s trust.
The best kind of honesty is one sliced up and shared among friends, where even at age 42 you admit that you’re still singing into a hairbrush to your favorite song at home alone. Where women can laugh about even the most embarrassing situations, swap stories and give advice to one another. That’s honesty’s comfort.
On the train a woman sits alone quietly crying. The man sitting opposite her reaches in his pocket and hands her a tissue asking if she is ok. She smiles and nods thanking him for his concern. They talk and laugh the rest of the journey until she reaches her stop. He could have ignored her, but he choose not to. That is the compassion of honesty.
Honesty will enter your life, sometimes through an act of kindness, sometimes through the face of someone you love. It comes from the ones we are closest to, from strangers we will never meet again and at times you will give honesty to others. It doesn’t always feel good and sometimes we sacrafice so much in order to live our lives honestly. But compare that to a life lived dishonestly and I assure you it is better to face the pain than live a life of lies.
Many times I sit with people who are desperate to find honesty in their lives. They hold within them a deep belief that it simply does not exist, they have lost faith in others, been hurt, seen honesty’s pain and suffering. We focus so much on the negative, if we just opened our eyes for one moment to see how honesty truly touches our lives every day, we’d find it in the most obscure places.
A world without honesty, simply does not exist.
Read MoreFrom the beginning
There is always a place where something begins. Where things are realised and thoughts occur in the knowledge that there is a direction to move forward to. Sometimes we remember that place, other times the moment when it all came together is forgotten.
I remember my moment, at least I recall it being a defining moment for me that I was touching on a subject I thought was very ordinary and the realisation came then that it wasn’t. I was seven years old and I had just met a woman only a few short weeks before who was to become my future Step-Mom. I cannot tell you what possessed me to ask this question, but it seemed I had things swirling in my young mind that needed answers. She looked just like the sort of woman who might have them to give me. She was folding laundry at the kitchen table and I was standing near the sofa just deep in my thoughts and I very casually asked “Do you believe in Spirits?” Just as soon as I asked and I am not exaggerating a single word of this memory – a musical carousel ornament that was sitting on a shelf near the sofa began to play on its own and did a complete circle round.
I remember looking up at her, thinking that was strange but eager to hear her answer to my question and her face was frozen just staring at the carousel then back at me again. She responded with a yes, she did in fact believe in Spirits. It was after she finished folding the laundry and went over to the musical carousel to inspect it that I realised I had just had an amazing moment in my life. When I asked why she was inspecting the carousel, I remember her looking at me and she simply said “That carousel has been broken for many years, its not played in a very long time.” She was right, she showed me and tried to get it to play and it just couldn’t. It was then I knew, I knew in that brief moment in my life that I was going to get closer to my answers that had been burning deep inside me. I don’t know how long those questions were there if I am honest, I really couldn’t say.
My poor Step-Mom was to become my Spiritual Guru over the years, the starting place for me to explore all of my obsession with Ghosts and Spirits alike – I cannot tell you the amount of sleep that lovely woman missed out on because I would keep her up all night asking questions and wanting to hear stories of the Otherside. She was so patient and I couldn’t get enough. We talked for many nights over the summers, often until the sun came up and I recall at times her face would seem baffled at the amount of questions I had. Years later I would learn that it was also the sort of questions, she said she had never seen a child so young asking about things she considered quite deep. It must have been difficult for her, me not being her own child and yet she always said her personal beliefs were that if a child was asking they deserved to know. Begin with the basic answer and when that is not enough you move on with something more complex. This was her approach to my questions and I have often been puzzled myself over the years as to where they all stemmed from. I did not grow up in a home that was focused on such things, yet there I was delving into the deep with no end in sight. I believed in my own mind that everyone had these sorts of questions, to me it was perfectly normal.
I had no idea back then where this journey would take me, I was just embarking on the first steps. Yet asking her that fateful day if she believed in spirits is a moment I will never forget, forever etched in my mind. Had she answered no would the path have changed? Would I be here now writing this to you and having come this far? Perhaps, then again perhaps not. All I know is that I am forever grateful for that day, to have had the guidance to the person I truly needed the most for this to develop. I have always said to people when they ask me if I feel I was “chosen” or “special” – my answer is no, I am not. I was simply lucky to have had someone who was willing to sit down and devote so much time to my natural interest, to help me evolve.
Lucky, not special.
Now lucky to have been privileged to encounter so many amazing people along the way because of that moment.
From the beginning, right through to the end.
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