Psychic Sensitivity ~ Sensitive Children

Night Fears

I slept with my head hidden under the blankets until I was 12 years old. Why? Because at night, in the silence and the dark, I was keenly aware that I was not alone. I could sense the presence of something, or many things, by my bed. I could hear whispered voices; I could see shadow people; and often I could feel something unnameable trying to connect with me.

As a child, I didn’t understand what I was experiencing. I didn’t know that the presence I was aware of couldn’t actually harm me, and I didn’t know how to consciously protect and claim myself and my space, or how to consciously send these ethereal energies away. I didn’t even know that this was possible.

Like any child who feels afraid, my instinct was to hide. And this I did — under the covers.

When I was 12 years old, something happened. I think it stemmed from the fact that I was exhausted from these nights of fear and the lack of sleep. I was sick of waking up drenched in sweat. It may have been a new maturity and more insight coming with puberty. I was tired. I was tired of being terrorized at night. I was tired of feeling like I had to hide in order to be safe, and I finally got to a defiant angry place.

One night, I simply flung the covers back, sat up, and very forcefully said, “This is my room! This is my bed! If you want to come and get me, then do it… or Leave Me Alone!” That was all I needed to do. Little did I know that’s all I had ever needed to do.

1. I showed no fear.

2. I reclaimed my space by ordering the presence to leave.

Be sensitive to small children with night fears. Allow them what they need for comfort. And as is often the case, they need a way to block some of these entities and experiences, whether with a night-light that’s left on, some cozy time in bed with a parent (so comforting!), or someone just to sit with them until they feel calm. When most insensitive or ignorant adults chastise them, telling them that there is nothing there, those adults don’t know how wrong they could be.

Visions & Psychic Information

I’ve written before of a psychic vision that I had when I was 12 years old, some sort of coming of age time, this year must have been for me. On the day my Uncle died, several hours before this occurred, he was laying on the living-room couch listening to music. I was sitting across the room from him, and as I watched, the back of the couch closed over him, like a lid on a coffin.

As most children do, I thought that because I could see this, everyone else in the room could see this also. But as I looked from each adult face to the next, I realized that they were totally unaware of what had just happened. I also was too immature and not practiced enough to realize that this was a premonition, an omen of what was to be just a few hour later.

It would be six years, when I was 18, that I would first talk about this experience with my grandmother. Without an understanding of premonitions and omens, I had thought that by SEEING this vision, I had CAUSED this thing to happen. I spent those six years desperately trying to block any visions or information that came to me.

Be aware that young children do not have the mental faculties to digest the psychic visions and information that they are picking up. They may not understand the source or the implications of visions and other psychic information. And its very common for small children to think that everyone else hears and feels what they do. Children don’t realize that they have an ability and are experiencing something that most people do not experience.

The Empath

Any situation that puts an empath in a group setting can be a nightmare. It is not only an overload of other people’s energy, it is a flurry of knowing, knowing what other people are thinking. Your brain is rattled and filled with other people’s true thoughts. You can feel their sadness, their happiness, their boredom, as well as their dislikes.

The classroom is a horror story for a lot of very sensitive empathic children. What’s coming through in a flurry to your conscious mind is also making it difficult, if not impossible, for you to concentrate, to focus on what the teacher is saying. It makes it difficult, if not impossible, to digest the words in a textbook, to focus on a math problem, to stay in the present with clear thoughts. From my own experience, I have to wonder how many children are labeled with attention disorders, when actually, they are receiving an overload of data from the individuals around them.

The perfect classroom experience for the empathic child would be soft instrumental meditative background music. It would be a room filled with live plants, windows open for fresh air and bird sounds and sunshine, or the smell of rain. It would be rooms large enough to have ample space around each desk, around each child. It would be the quiet presence of an animal, a voiceless living thing, a cat or dog or bird or hamster. Until that type of classroom exists, the most we can do is to educate people on the topic of empathic children and what they need to function in this group setting.

Advertisements

Impending Death ~ Recognizing Its Salutation

Sometimes I know when someone is going to die. It happened for the very first time when I was twelve years old, and it’s only happened a handful of times in my 61 years.  It’s only revealed a family member once.  It is an active physical phenomena, and it is a mental clairecognizant event.

The physical phenomena is accompanied by a physical “freezing” in place.  For several seconds I literally cannot move.  It is accompanied by a whisper that I believe is inside my head, though it could be an external whisper and I’m just not interpreting it as such.  The voice says, “Look, look at this person, look again.”  And I have to look, I have to stare, usually for several seconds at the individual, and I’m unable to turn away.  During the handful of these experiences, the voice has always said the exact same thing.

The clairecognizant event is accompanied by a solid definite “knowing” that this person is going to die very soon.

I have never actively tried to make myself knowledgeable about such events, not even with tarot reading.  I have never sought to learn how to know this thing.  I have never wanted to have this knowledge; it is inflicted on me without my knowing in advance that it’s coming, and without my desire to know.  It is something beyond my control.  I have never tried to approach someone with this pre-cognizant knowledge, or to inform anyone in any way of my experience, or the premonition concerning them and their life and imminent death.  I have spent decades of my life trying to deliberately block this information from coming through, but have been unsuccessful.  I sometimes think that my attempts to block it out may be the reason that I’ve experienced it so infrequently, with only a handful of events.

Below are descriptions of three of these “events”.

T H E _ C O L L E C T O R

The first event occurred when I was 12-years-old, and it is the only event that involved a family member, my uncle.  It is also the only event that didn’t follow the “pattern” of all the subsequent premonitions.  I’ve actually written about this very first life-changing event because, as a child, I didn’t understand what happened, and I believed for a very long time that I caused my uncle’s death by seeing the vision.

Easter Sunday 1969, when I was 12…

It had been a horrendous winter. My Aunt & Uncle had been snowed in for months. We were only able to have Easter dinner with them by driving a long route and coming in from the east as opposed to the more direct west route. Even then, we had to park our car on top of a hill and walk part of the way to their farmhouse, down a hill, across a small valley, and up over the next hill.

It was after dinner. The women were still in the kitchen chatting. My uncle and grandfather were sitting in the living room listening to music, along with my sister and me. We were both perched on the edge of a long piano stool.

I looked across the room at my Uncle, who was stretched out on the sofa, one arm behind his head. As I watched, I was startled and fascinated to see the back of the sofa suddenly swing forward and close over him. I realized that I was seeing my uncle in a coffin with the lid being closed. I shook my head and blinked my eyes to rid myself of this vision.  I looked at my grandfather and my sister to see what their reaction was, and I realized that I was the only one to see this thing.

Later in the afternoon, my uncle left the house to go outside and check the water levels in the driveway, where the melting snow was beginning to cause flooding. My sister and I were standing in the dining room window, watching him walk up to the house.

We turned away.

A second later we heard a muffled noise, and my Aunt came hysterically screaming from the kitchen doorway, “Mom! Mom!”…calling my grandmother.

My Uncle had stepped into the entryway off the kitchen and collapsed.

They called for an ambulance—which came in the wrong way, the way that was still blocked with deep snow banks, and they had to turn around to come in the same way we did. They also had to walk a gurney the same path we took, across the valley. It took so long for help to get there.

My uncle died that day.

It wasn’t until years later, in my late teens, while having a conversation with my grandmother, that I revealed to someone for the first time what I saw and how I believed that this vision caused the event.  My grandmother emphatically told me that what I saw was a premonition, and that this vision was a foretelling and had nothing to do with causing my uncle’s death.  It was at this point that I finally understood.

The young man at the Halloween party…

It was a beautiful October evening, and my then-husband and I were guests at a friend’s outdoor Halloween Party.  There was a young couple there, dressed as a bride and bride-groom, but the characters were turned around.  The young woman was dressed as the groom, and the young man was wearing a wedding dress.  During the first part of the party, I felt compelled to take a picture of this couple sitting together in a swing.

A buffet was set up in the garage, and I went by myself to fix a plate of food.  The only other person in the garage was this young man.  He had his back to me, across the room, intent on the table before him.  I was just going to pick up an empty plate, when I froze, and I heard the voice… “Look, look at this person, look again.”  I had to look.  I looked at the dark curls of the woman’s wig he was wearing flowing to his shoulder blades.  I looked at the open back of the dress, a diamond shaped cut-out revealing the  center of his back.  I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t take my eyes off this spot for several seconds.

I knew.

Later that evening, this couple had an argument and she left the party.  He was extremely angry and upset,  and he was ready to go find her.  For several minutes, family members were either trying to physically prevent him from leaving, or they were trying to talk him out of it.  Eventually, he got away from them and left in his vehicle.  One of the ladies at the party, his Aunt I believe, grabbed my wrists and looked desperately and deeply in my eyes.  “He’s going to get hurt tonight!”

I wanted to tell her, “No, he’s going to die tonight.”, but I was physically unable to do this.  I felt that strange kind of “frozen” at this moment, and was unable to speak those words to her.

The next morning we learned that in the pursuit of finding his girlfriend, this young man’s car had been hit by a train.  He did, indeed, die that night.

The man in the little green truck...

For a while, my schedule coincided with his, and magickally at 3:45 pm we would meet at the top of the overpass on northern Broad Street.  I always noticed the truck, one of those very small pickups, a pretty turquoise green-blue, and the driver was a young man.  It became a routine expected sight, and one I didn’t think much of, except to know that when I saw this truck I was precisely on time, as was he.

The man in the small green pickup on the overpass still haunts me. I drive this route everyday, this location where one day when we meet, everything seems to start moving in slow motion, and the voice says,  “Look, look at this person, look again.” , and I do, with that strange fixated frozen intensity.  I can’t stop looking. I really look at the driver for the first time, seeing details, as we’re both moving in opposite directions, but in that strange slow motion.

I see a young man in his late 20s or early 30s. I see the red baseball cap and the soft brown hair around the edges of it. I see the thick-lensed black-framed glasses and the white t-shirt. I see his hands on the steering wheel and a look of concentration on his face. I stare at him until we’ve passed, and then I watch his vehicle in my rear-view mirror until he disappears over the hill.

I knew.

Up until this event in my adult life, I had never spoken about this odd sense of premonition to anyone before, but I did after this experience. I told my daughters. I told them that I wish I knew who this young man was. I told them that if I knew where to find him, I might try to find enough courage to approach him, knowing I would sound like a crazy woman. I would tell him to take a different route, at least for a while. I told them that something awful was going to happen to this young man.

And it did.

One day, on my day off, we were outside in our front yard when the neighbor came home. He got out of his pickup and approached us, looking absolutely stunned. He said he’d just come home on the overpass, and that there had been a terrible accident. He said that a white van had plowed into several vehicles at a great speed. He said there were bodies and mangled vehicles everywhere, and it was the worst thing he’d ever seen.

The over-pass is only a few blocks from our home.

We got in our vehicle and went to the edge of the highway east of our house, where we could see the overpass clearly, we were so close. And to my shock, there was the young man’s small pickup, the driver’s door flung open, sitting cross-ways in the highway. When he was hit, he had been thrown from his pickup, at the top of the overpass, and had landed on the railroad tracks below. He was one of many casualties from this accident.

I think about this young man every time I drive over this hill.

So, being able to recognize impending death, is it a gift or a curse?  What good is seeing the future if you cannot altar it?  Why is this knowledge revealed at all?  Could the young man have been saved from his fate on Halloween night if he would’ve left that party a few minutes before or a few minutes after he did?  Would the man in the pickup have listened to me if I would’ve been able to give him a warning?

 

 

The Voice Says “Look” ~ And “Look Again”

It’s happened only a handful of times in my lifetime. It’s happened for family members, it’s happened for an acquaintance, it’s happened for a stranger that I would see on a daily basis from a distance, and now it’s happened for a location, which I never anticipated possible.

First, you sense a strange physical sensation, it’s very subtle, and then the voice says, “Look”, and so you do. And then it says, “Look again”. And you can’t help turning to stare with morbid intensity and fascination at the individual in question. You watch as they walk past you, drive past you, going about their business in total obliviousness. It feels like a pivotal life-changing moment. And it is, for them.

They all leave an indelible impression, but there are some who stand out more in my mind than others…two family members; the young man whom I hardly knew at a party; there was the total stranger I would meet at the same time everyday as we drove across the overpass; and finally, there was not an individual, but a location.

What does this strange phenomenon herald?

Death.

The man in the small green pickup on the overpass still haunts me. I drive this route everyday, this location where one day when we meet, everything seems to start moving in slow motion, and the voice says, “Look”. And I do. And it says, “Look again”. And I do, with that strange fixated intensity; I can’t stop looking. I really look at the driver for the first time, seeing details, as we’re both moving in opposite directions, but in that strange slow motion.

I see a young man in his late 20s or early 30s. I see the red baseball cap and the soft brown hair around the edges of it. I see the thick lensed black-framed glasses and the white t-shirt. I see his hands on the steering wheel and the look of concentration on his face. I look at him until we’ve passed, and then I watch his vehicle in my rear-view mirror until he disappears over the hill.

I have never spoken about this odd sense of premonition to anyone before, but I did after this experience. I told my daughters. I told them that I wish I knew who this young man was. I told them that if I knew where to find him, I might try to find enough courage to approach him, knowing I would sound like a crazy woman. I would tell him to take a different route, at least for a while. I told them that something awful was going to happen to this young man.

And it did.

One day, when we were outside in our front yard, the neighbor came home. He got out of his pickup and approached us, looking stunned. He said he’d just come home on the overpass, and that there had been a terrible accident. He said that a white van had plowed into several vehicles at a great speed. He said there were bodies and mangled vehicles everywhere, and it was the worst thing he’d ever seen. He was so pale, and breathless, and he looked dazed.

The over-pass is only a few blocks from our home.

We got in our vehicle and went to the edge of the highway east of our house, where we could see the overpass clearly, we were so close. And to my shock, there was the young man’s small green pickup, the driver’s door flung open, sitting cross-ways in the highway. When he was hit, he had been thrown from his pickup, at the top of the overpass, and had landed on the railroad tracks below. He was one of many casualties from this accident.

I think about him almost every time I drive over this hill.

Premonitions ~ Why do some people experience them? Is it odd that the experience is not necessarily a one-time thing, but something that can occur a number of times? What good is the ability to have a premonition if you can’t do anything to create a positive outcome? Where do premonitions come from? Who’s voice do I hear?

Psychic Oil ~ What is it? How do I use it? How do I make it?

Hello, from Hedgewytch Hollow! I’m tucked in bed this morning with my computer and a fresh cup of morning coffee (my first one, actually).  My ipod is singing to me in the background (an Indian/Yoga/Relaxation chant), and if I remember, I’ll tuck it at the bottom of this blog post so you can listen to it, too.  I have tons of stuff to do on this holiday weekend.  Where, in earlier years, I would spend weeks preparing for this end-of-the-year holiday, I’m going to do it all in ONE day this time– today!  But my kids are thrilled that we are ALL off work and home at the same time, so I’m going to chill, and we’re going to “wing it”.  This is going to be a warm and fuzzy huggy weekend; I can see it coming. 🙂

Anyway, on to the business at hand– Psychic Oil!

First, all about oils…the following opening paragraphs are an introduction to the section on oils in my book, The Spiritual Feminist.  (There’s lots more in this book, very goddess-centered, but the back of the book is actually a grimoire, and this was the source for info on Psychic Oil…You might want to purchase your very own copy.  Just click on the title and you will be magickally transported to my Amazon Author Page.  Know that you can also purchase my books at Barnes & Noble, or any fine bookstore near you.)

Book Cover-- The Spiritual Feminist

Magickal Oils

I’m going to include in this section my own personal recipes for the following magickal oils right out of my very own Book of Shadows, or “De’ Big Black Book”, as I like to call it.  The ingredients are mostly mundane plants, herbs, spices and such that you probably already have on hand in your kitchen cupboards; but don’t be thrown by a more exotic ingredient.  You can usually pick up an unusual herb or item at any local new-age pagan shop.  And if you aren’t lucky enough to live near a magickal shop, you can try finding such items online.

The base for these oils:  There are a lot of people who insist on using the most expensive oils they can find, but the truth is that this doesn’t matter, not really; and if pinching pennies is a must, then go with a cheap bottle of all vegetable oil from the grocery store.  If you choose, you may use olive oil, or mineral oil, or almond oil, or grape seed oil, or even some other oil that you feel a special affinity towards.  In my world, pinching pennies is a necessity, so I opt for the cheap stuff, and it works with absolute gusto, I can assure you.

The herbs:  I’d like to say that when I create my magickal oils, I include the very special power of “3”.  I use at least three types of herbs in each of my oils.  You don’t need anymore than that, really.  Of course, if you want to include herbs not only for your magickal intention, but also an herb for the planets, I would add three more herbs to the oil for a total of six.  If you choose to include corresponding herbs to the Element you’re working with, then add three more for a total of nine…the ultimate magickal number (By the awful awesome Power of 3X3, so the incantation goes).  But remember, this oil is your creation, go with the flow, follow your instincts, don’t be afraid to create your own unique magickal oil…Let the Spirit move you.

Some people follow the practice of heating their oils and ingredients just until you catch the scent in order to raise the vibrational energy of the magickal potion, right before adding it to a glass bottle, sort of like giving it a “jump start”.  Other people simply add the oil and ingredients to a bottle and cap it off.  I’ve done both.  To tell you the truth, I’ve noticed no magickal difference; however, if you believe that this extra step will also imbue your magickal oil with extra strength or direction, then by all means go for it. Experiment with the process and see if you notice any difference for yourself.  One last thought…some practitioners will sit their oils out to bathe in the moonlight, or the sunlight, depending upon the energies they’re trying to catch.  Keep this in mind.

Can you simply go out and buy these magickal oils already made?  Yes, you can actually, but I suggest that you learn to make them for yourself.  There is no doubt that the personal energy you put into crafting such items adds to their potency, their power, and their effectiveness.  All the experience and expertise in the world can’t give a love potion as much “oomph” as the creator’s own steaming hot lust.  Remember, witchcraft is all about energy and the successful manipulation of energy to achieve your desires.  The more personal energy you add to your own spells, the more powerful you will be, and the more successful are your magickal endeavors.

Psychic Oil

Most people think that psychic abilities come naturally and just kick in with no warning, much like they see in the movies and on tv.  And this might be true for a few super gifted individuals in the world, but for the rest of us, who may have spent a lifetime ignoring that little voice in our head, we have to give ourselves a little extra magickal oomph to pick up this information. The average individual does not get two to three minute flashes (in Full Technicolor, no less) of intuitive information.  In actuality, it can be extremely subtle and extremely easy to overlook with all the “brain chatter” that we have going on.   Psychic Oil is simply meant to help us focus much needed energy on this aspect of ourselves, on our efforts to see what most people never will, on our ability to hear that barely perceptible murmur.  Once you’ve used and strengthened your psychic muscle, you’ll find that you’ll need this tool less and less.

Anoint your third eye chakra with this oil before doing divination of any kind.  Anoint your pendulum, rune stones, divining rod, or any other divination tool that you’re using.  If it happens to be tarot cards, or some other card deck, don’t damage your cards with the oil, but add a touch of the oil to the bag or box where you keep your cards.  Anoint and burn a lavender candle dressed with psychic oil to call up and strengthen your psychic powers.

Correspondences & Ingredients
Day: Monday (the Moon)
Candle Color: lavender (preferred color), blue (the Moon)
Moon Phase:  waxing, or the dark Moon (connected to divination)
The Base: olive oil, vegetable oil, or grape seed oil
The Herbs: for divination– strawberry, thyme, valerian, vanilla, yarrow (arrow root); for prophetic dreams– jasmine, marigold, mugwort, onion, rose; to strengthen psychic powers– bay, celery, cinnamon, eyebright, grass, lemongrass, lavender, marigold, mugwort, rose, anise, thyme, yarrow (arrow root); to increase psychic awareness– anise, bay, cinnamon, cloves, gardenia, lemon grass, lilac, marigold, nutmeg, rose, anise, thyme, yarrow (arrow root); for astral projection– dittany of Crete, cinnamon, jasmine, sandalwood

My Recipe
3 pinches of lavender,
3 pinches of rosemary,
3 marigold blossoms

c96c1-6
Did you know…I sell magickal oils at my website, The Witch’s Corner, just click on the link and you will be magickally transported to my world, where you’ll find a list of oils available, as well as some videos on the subject.  Be sure to explore this website, there’s lots to see and read…The Witch’s Corner is a project always in progress.  There’s a very large purple menu right under the banner at the top of every page.  Have fun.

Amythyst 20
6

And I remembered!  Here’s the background music I was working to during the preparation of this blog post…enjoy!