Woo Woo

By Pauline Evanosky

Yes, being psychic is contagious, though not many people will admit it. I’ve seen it happen over the years.

Everybody is born psychic. It’s called having a sixth sense. As we grow, our other senses come into play: sight, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touch. The sixth sense, the ESP, extrasensory perception, is sometimes elusive. I think children have better access to it, but as they grow and move into our various local societies, those impressions are discouraged or, at least, not encouraged.

How often do you hear of kids who have imaginary friends? When they get old enough, those friends disappear or are encouraged to disappear by well-meaning older people.

That was real. Not imaginary.

I don’t remember having imaginary friends, but who is to know? Maybe I did. Anybody in my life who might have known about it is gone now. I was a kid and can’t quite remember all the stuff that went on when I was younger.

The idea that being psychic is contagious is different. People don’t talk about it much, but it makes sense. Somewhere along the line, I remember Ram Dass saying to get psychic hang around psychic people. Either he said it, or Wayne Dyer did. Both are good folk to read, and although they don’t openly claim to be psychic and are more spiritual in teaching, they are good writers to read.

The thing about being psychic is to be sensitive. To what? Well, to everything. I found it was a journey that included moving spiritually. Maybe it will be the same for you too.

I have a friend whose grandmother had the gift. People were afraid of it then as they are now. What manner of information can be received along that sixth sense? All sorts.

For myself, it is helpful when I get down in the dumps. I could see where having access to a friend growing up would be fun. Having a spirit guide is fun, too.

In the beginning, I worked to be psychic. A few oddball incidents in my childhood and early adulthood might have been called psychic experiences or laughed off as coincidences.

It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I had a moment that occurred between being awake and being asleep. It’s never happened since then, well, once, but I thought I saw my grandmother across the room looking at my calendar that hung on the wall. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, only to still see her. She had brown hair in a ponytail. When I closed my eyes a second time and opened them again, she was gone. She didn’t look like my grandmother, who had white hair and who had been dead for many years. But, somehow, I knew in my heart that it was my grandmother.

In the morning, I told my mother about my dream, expecting her to say I’d probably eaten something the previous evening that didn’t agree with me. It’s what she always said when I had a bad or unsettling dream. But she surprised me and said she figured that was my grandmother. That’s when she told me of all the instances through the years that Grandma had been able to see things and to know of things she had no way of knowing.

One was that she would telephone Mom sometimes and, without even saying hello, would instead ask Mom what was wrong. She knew when my grandfather had crashed his plane at an airfield in Rhode Island, even before the tower knew about it. He walked away with no scratches.

I can remember grieving so deeply for her. It was unusual even for me. Other family members had passed during the 30 years I grieved for her, and eventually, after they had died, I did not grieve for them so horribly. I can remember driving home from work and missing her so much that I burst into tears. Was that a sign? I don’t know. I’ve never asked anyone, but not long after I learned to channel, she came to talk to me. That was the day I stopped grieving for her. Everything was all right.

It is that cessation of my own grieving process that I want to share with others. Folks on the other side are okay. They are happy. They are interested in life. It’s like one spirit guide named Emmanuel said once, “Dying is like waking up from a nap.”

I’ve never thought about it this way. It took me to become a psychic to experience the proof of it to my own satisfaction that I was able to begin healing from a death. Don’t get me wrong. I still mourn the folks in my life who pass on, but the mourning period does not linger for 30 years.

Someone in Spirit just said to me, “There really is a rainbow at the end of it.”

Maybe becoming psychic is more like learning to draw.

The drawing was there all along. You, the new artist, just need to learn to see a little bit differently. Instead of looking at a landscape of trees and thinking, “Oh, they look like lots of little broccoli standing up.” And then drawing the trees to look like broccoli, you begin to see the lines and shadows around the trees, seeking instead a different way of seeing.

Being psychic is just being open to more information. It doesn’t always come in as words in your ears. The other day, I walked by my cup of coffee. It was on the kitchen counter.

There wasn’t anything particularly interesting about it, but I thought to myself, “Would it help to put some coffee into my houseplants that aren’t doing well?” Then, I moved on to other things. The thought ended there. It was just that. I didn’t think about it anymore. I was busy and had stuff to do.

The next day, I was channel surfing on YouTube. One of the suggested videos for me to look at was a guy who prepared a solution containing honey, aloe, and coffee to water plants that needed some help. Even I, who is an openly declared psychic, was surprised. Imagine that.

If you are interested in the YouTube channel, it is called Happiness Garden.

Thanks for reading. Being psychic is not unusual, and hanging around with other psychics is definitely easier. At least when you speak to them of the odd stuff that happens in your life, they will say, “Yes, seeing butterflies in the garden who remind you of your mother could mean she is watching over you.”