Friday, 10 August 2012

The power of the Pen

Whenever I am fortunate enough to go to church, and witness a demonstration of mediumship, I always enjoy the challenge of paying keen attention to the words used in the messages.  Seeing people accept the words that are being spoken to them, as if they are of grave importance (excuse the pun) is really interesting.  The order of play in the spiritualist church of St. Cecilias in Leigh usually starts with a prayer, a hymn, another prayer, another hymn, time for the small gathering to acclimatise to each other and feel comfortable in each other's presence. After this the Medium steps forward for the 'Address', a little talk, again a passing of information, some communication, a sharing of understanding and knowledge.  Often, the Medium doesn't know what he/she is going to speak about until they find themselves standing in front of a room full of strangers.  This is one of my favourite parts of the service. 

It is in these addresses that little nougats of spiritual gold can be found and I have decided (in my infinite wisdom) to share the bits and pieces that I can recall.  I also find that when I am sitting in church, which feels like a tardis, a safe haven away from the stresses and strife of life, the information washes over me like spiritual cleansing and I come away feeling refreshed, but often no sooner am I out on my material path again, I have forgotten the kind loving words that have been spoken within.  

So, in an attempt to make amends for being remiss at not sharing the services prior to this day, I will try and recall my most recent visits to church, to share the knowledge that has been passed on to me.

Not in this blog, for each Address is worthy of it's own blog, as is the recognition of each medium who gave the message, but this latest prompting for me to write has come about by virtue of a message given, not to me, but to a lady I went to church with, a new friend who has become an instant companion and whom I am very grateful to have met.  My new friend was given a pen. Yes, a pen.  Not a literal pen, but a spiritual pen from spirit, in her message.  The medium decided that this means she is going to be writing a book.  Okay then. 

 Now, my friend hasn't put pen to paper and yet this is not the first time she has been given the message that she will be writing a book.  This was on Wednesday afternoon.  

Many moons ago, when I first started visiting this church, I knew the medium had linked with me whenever they mentioned books.  Mainly because I was selling books on ebay, whilst studying from a lot of books as I was working on my degree, and so I always knew they had the right picture of me. Sometimes, they offered me a pen. A writing pen, a spiritual pen, a golden pen, there was always a variation on a theme, but it involved writing.  Around the same time, I began to find pens. Yes, random pens, dropped pens, abandoned pens, sometimes people would walk up to me in the street and give me promotional pens. It was as if pens were falling out of the sky to get my attention!  Did I pay attention?  Well, yes, I did. In a way.  I started blogging, I practised Spirit Writing and I finished my degree.  Okay then, where is this going, I hear you ask. What is the point of this story? 

Well, two weeks ago I went to church with my new friend and I had reason to want to write my phone number down for another member of the congregation and I asked my friend for a pen 

'do you have a pen?'  I said, rummaging in my handbag
No. She didn't have a pen.  

Eventually I found a pen, but the significance was lost on me that my friend didn't have a pen.  Looking back now, with the benefit of hindsight, I should have picked up on asking her for a pen, it should have brought to my attention that my friend needs to be given a pen!  She also needs to be writing!  I am so dense sometimes.

The reason I have been reminded of this is because this morning (Friday, two days after the recent church visit) I went to the hospital for a blood test.  The works, you know, not eating anything for twelve hours beforehand.  I cannot remember the last time I went twelve hours without a cup of tea. But I managed it.  So there I was, a little light-headed from the loss of blood, walking home after hospital, pleased at the idea that I could have a cup of tea when I got in. Not wanting to be distracted from getting home to the kettle, it was with some irritation that I removed my earpiece on my ipod for some guy who was dithering on the pavement.

I actually thought to myself  'not now, this is not fair to ask me to help someone now, I haven't had a cup of tea for twelve bloody hours...look at my plaster....blood test, blood test'  but to no avail. Clearly my spirit guides don't care for my protestations of the need for TLC. No, there is a man on my path in need. What is he is looking for.  And asking me for?  That's right. A Pen.  

I don't just have a pen, I have a handful of pens in the outer pocket of my handbag, I reach into the depths of the deceivingly small holdall and return a clutch of pens.  Well, I was clutching them and I am not really sure what a group of pens is technically called.  There was the one that came to me from the bookie.  There was the one from the pound shop that someone had dropped, there was the one with the red diamonte on the end that an avon customer encouraged me to buy for 99p in a shop where I sell them avon, and some regular BiC Biros.  I happily gave him a pen and told him to have a nice day.  

So there you go, sometimes we are the finder of the pen and sometimes we the giver of the pen. 

Lots of love and light to everyone who needs it, and a loving reminder that the pen is mightier than the sword.

Tamasin x

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