Thursday, 4 August 2011

A white cloud, a white feather, being asked for directions and a trip to Spiritualist Church

What a day!  Don't get me wrong, a lovely day.  A really, really, hot, humid, muggy midweek day that was not comfortable enough for gardening. My arms and wrists still aching from the tree hacking exercise I got seriously involved in earlier in the week.  No, this Wednesday afternoon called for a bit of exercise (but not too much), a little walk to church perhaps?  Yes, that would do it, a twenty minute walk, an hour and a half of hymn singing, prayers, listening to a medium and feeling part of some form of community.

Earlier in the day, as I was deciding how to spend my glorious day, I stood in the garden trying to decide if I could tidy the leaves up that are now scattered haphazardly across the grass, and a little Robin flew down and sat on the fence post. It just looked at me.  I am always reminded of my brother Robert when I see a Robin.  Both because of the name and because Rob loved nature and he used to paint birds onto plates as a hobby.  Both my Mum and I see the Robin as symbolic of my brother who killed himself when he was fifteen.

So, I head off to church, walking slowly, plenty of time, I stop at a newsagent to read the adverts. You never know what you might find.  I see an ad for Houseclearance. No, not the spiritual type, the 'I can get rid of your old stuff for a small fee' type.  As I take the number down on my mobile, a man approaches
'is there a cashpoint around here?'
I don't need to pause for breath, or engage in small talk, or even stop typing in the number I have already committed to memory.  I look up and make eye contact with a pair of beautiful blue eyes, in the middle of an aged face, craggy, lined but with silver hair and car keys dangling.  My Sherlock Holmes power of deduction takes over, I deduce he is retired, late 60s, young looking, fit, well enough to still be driving, and from London.  Nice accent. 
'Tescos.  Up there on the left'.  I gesture with my still open mobile and then to finish the scenario off, ie, for the sake of completeness, I stop tapping in the number and point with my free hand to describe the number of traffic lights he will need to go past to find the cash point.  I also explain that otherwise he can go back to Leigh. 
Now, because I am in the middle of tapping in a mobile number, he apologises for interrupting me and takes his leave.  Maybe it is because I am hot and a little bothered by a feeling of thirst, maybe it is because I am thinking of getting to church on time, whatever it is, I forgot to engage in conversation.  I have promised myself that next time I am asked for directions to anywhere, I will attempt to find a common link between the person asking, the place they need to go, and myself.  I forgot.  Next time.

I arm myself with a drink from the newsagents and I notice a little white feather at my feet as I leave the shop.  (I have just made myself a cup of tea and Blogger saved my draft for me at 11:11).  Lovely.  I love synchronicity, symbolism and all manner of little reminders of spirit in my material world!

Church brought a medium I have never seen before.  Steve Chitty.  I am sure I could probably blog to the tune of 500 words about the service he gave.  If anyone gets the chance to attend a demonstration by Steve, I would recommend it.  Have I mentioned on my blog before how I often get a message at church indirectly?  You know, all the people who say 'no,no,no' and I don't mean Amy Winehouse? 

You know when a Medium says 'I have an Anne' and the person says 'No, I don't know an Anne'.  Well, quite often, the names that the people can't take, are meant for me.  It is not often that I get a direct message from a medium in Church where the person gives me names. I do get readings, don't get me wrong, but not of the named variety!  So, when Steve Chitty was in the middle of a reading for a woman who has just come back from America and who has a Dad in Spirit who died from a heart-attack and he starts giving her names that she cannot 'take', my ears prick up.  'Fred?'  'no' she shakes her head, 'Mary?' 'no, not that I can think of' 'Lily?' 'maybe my mum would know'.  Well, my Granddad was called Fred, my Dad's Mum was called Mary, my Mum had an Aunt Lil. I am only surprised he didn't say Vi as well and then there would have been a complete set.  Anyway, time marched on, Steve gave messages to these two women, who were together and then with ten minutes to go, the guy on the podium reminded him that time was running out.  Steve went on to offer two further messages one to a woman who could take everything he said except for a 'Rose' (my Dad's sister) and a the last message to a woman who could take everything he said except the name Robert. A young man who fell to his death from a tall building.  I actually felt like someone had prodded me with an electrical prong somewhere on my left side.  Robert!  oh boy.  I knew it had to be my brother.  The woman was shocked and her hand went to her mouth, as she definitely rejected that, she didn't know of anyone called Robert who died like that. No. Definitely no.  The guy on the podium called 'Time'.  Time up.

Afterwards I had a little chat with Steve Chitty and tried to explain the importance of the work he is managing to do, and although it may seem to the audience that he had a lot of 'no' amongst his messages, it wasn't because he is doing it wrong, or not connecting.  I do believe that the information a medium gets has to be given to a whole room, because sometimes there are people who do not want to 'go public' and have to talk about people who have passed in tragic circumstances.  Even explaining to Steve that I had a brother called Robert who climbed up an electricity pylon and jumped off at the age of 15, is quite a shocker, both for the medium and the people listening.  Spirit do work in mysterious ways, that is for sure. 

Another litte coincidence that I enjoyed, during the Address that Steve gave before the demonstration, he was reminded to tell the story of White Cloud. A spirit guide of his, when he was younger he asked to be given the name of his guide, as he looked out across Southend Seafront on a beautiful blue sky, a white cloud floated across in front of him.  The next day, or soon after, he went to a spiritualist church where a medium said to him, you have a guide, called White Cloud.  Lovely.  The coincidence, for me, is that the day before, I had been on Twitter.  You know, the website/social networking site for compulsive chatterers, like me.  EVERYONE (well, a lot of people) were going on about the weather. I tweeted that 'it was beautiful sunny day in Southend on Sea, just a cool sea breeze and a few white clouds'.  My little tweet was re-tweeted by Tony Blackburn the Radio D.J.  I am pretty sure that in all my 12,000 tweets (like I said, compulsive) I have never used the words White Clouds.  Why would I? 


Thanks for reading my blog which has turned into a virtual novellette.

Love and light to everyone who needs it.

Tamasin x

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