Tag Archive | Paranormal Communication

See the Future – Tip 3

Question:  Are you psychic?

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Answer:  Yes, of course you are! 

I believe we all have psychic abilities to some extent, and our abilities can be explored, practiced, and enhanced.  Since we know that you have psychic abilities, why not learn about them, learn how to use them to your own advantage, and have a little fun at the same time?

In Tips 1 and 2, we learned how to focus and develop your psychic abilities.  Today, in Tip 3, we will test all of our senses and find out which ones are the strongest receivers.

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We can’t see all the information and messages that are swirling around in the very air we breathe unless we open one or more of our “receivers” to allow us to recognize and interpret them.

And we have many receivers, among them our five senses; sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell.  Although there are other ways to “tune in,” such as dreams, meditation and other methods, we will focus on our five senses to find out which ones are the strongest receivers.

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It’s just as easy as falling off a log!  Oh, and you might want to keep a little notebook handy in case you want to log some of your experiences.

SEEING AND HEARING

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TOUCH

           TASTE

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There is no need to change your daily routine for this exercise, unless you would just enjoy getting about and around more to enjoy it.  It’s all a matter of being in the moment and concentrating on one of your senses.

Let’s take sight first.  Do you really pay attention to what you are seeing?  As we go about our daily routine, maybe to work at the office and home after work, everything becomes so familiar that it all sort of blends together.  Have you ever driven right past your office or your home because you were thinking about something else?   I have done that one more than one occasion, and felt embarrassed and kind of amused about it.

But what did I miss seeing?  Lots of things; people walking on the street, an odd looking car, a beautiful tree…There could have been a robbery in progress along the way, and I would not have noticed.  When you really open up your sense of sight, you will see so many things you weren’t aware of before.  As you practice, you will open up your second sight, as well.  With time and practice, you may come to realize the car on the road beside you is a red flag for danger.  There may be criminals or maybe a gun in that car, and you will be able to change your path to get away from possible danger.

As you become more aware, you will know if or when a child or a dog is going to run out into the street, and act accordingly.  I call this having a “knowing.”

You can see how this awareness development works with sight, but you may be wondering how it works with the other senses.  Say you concentrated orn sight on Monday, and have chosen to work on hearing on Tuesday.

When you open your sense of hearing, you will become aware of pleasant sounds you did not notice before; birds chirping, rain falling, the hum of distant conversations.  It’s particularly interesting to listen to people.  You will become able to detect tones of anger coming from a smiling face, or sense hidden amusement or a disguised threatening sound.  You don’t even have to see the face.  The person behind you in a line at the bank will disclose information the moment they speak, or even with a cough or clearing of the throat.  If they are tired, angry, nervous, worried, or impatient, you will know.

Your sense of touch can be very instrumental in your psychic development.  You have most likely heard of psychics who helped the police in missing persons or murder cases by touching and holding a personal item, such as a watch.  I have my doubts about most of these claims, but I do know that some sensitives can do it.  On a smaller scale, it is certainly possible to perceive by touch.

Yesterday, I picked up a deck of tarot cards a friend had given me.  The minute I began to shuffle the deck the phone rang, and it was my friend calling from Florida just to say hello.  Practice by picking up, touching and holding small objects, and see what thoughts come into your mind.

I had a friend whose sense of smell was her primary psychic sense.  She could smell the smoke from a plane crash in another country.  If she walked by someone’s house and smelled gas or fumes or smoke, she knew there would be a fire or explosion.  This “talent” drove her crazy around New Years or July 4th.  She could detect the smell of gunfire, even though she did not see it.  Unfortunately, she died in a fiery car crash ten years ago.  She knew she would die in a fire.

And last, and probably least, is the sense of taste.  As far as psychic senses go, it’s kind of the runt of the litter.  It mainly works like Deja Vu by bringing thoughts of what happened in the past or what might happen in the future.

Our sense of taste is so strongly geared to tell us that the chocolate sundae tastes good or there is too much vinegar in the salad dressing, that it is difficult for it to do more.  But when you taste something that brings a vague recognition to you, its most likely attached to some event that happened in the past or will happen in the future.

I cannot tolerate the taste of apple pie.  I used to enjoy it, but many apple pies arrived at our house after the death of a relative.  Following that, each time I ate apple pie, someone died.  After I realized what was happening, I never ate another bite of apple pie, and try not to even think about it.  However, sometimes I can be enjoying green beans and they suddenly taste like apple pie.  Then somebody I know dies.

I don’t mean to scare anyone.  It is perfectly harmless to practice enhancing the various psychic receivers.  My own experiences are due to an ability that runs in my family, and goes way back to some seventh daughter of some seventh son way back in the misty past.

I hope you will try the various practice techniques, and I feel that you will enjoy then,  At the very least, you will become more aware of the world around you.

Bye for now from Sweet Nan.yellow_bird

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The Vanishing of She Who Smokes

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We’ve known one another for a long time, although we have never actually met in person.  She is my neighbor who lives across the way by the alley. She is a middle aged lady who comes out of the house to smoke cigarettes.  She is neither tall nor short; she is neither fat nor thin.  There is nothing remarkable at all about her appearance.  You could pass her a hundred times in the grocery store and never remember seeing her.

I don’t actually see her most of the time.  In the beginning, I would catch glimpses of her as she came out of the ramshackle rental house right by the alley.  She would come outside about once every couple of hours.  She would walk around a little bit, and then sit down in one of those old plastic lawn chairs with raggedy ribbing.  Her face remained expressionless as she lit up her Marlboro or Winston or whatever it was.  There was no appearance of pleasure, relief, or enjoyment.  She just sat there and smoked, as if that was her life’s work. After she finished her cigarette, she would get up in the same leisurely, yet matter-of-fact manner, and go back into the house.

Her little trips outdoors to a weedy patch that would like to be called a yard rarely varied, although I have seen her pick up a piece of trash and put it in the trash can.  It seems she might linger just a little bit when the day is very nice, but for the most part, the time remains the same.

She looks clean, which surprised me at first because of her residence right next to the dirty alley.  She seems to be always dressed properly for the weather, too.  Another constant about her is that she projects an aura of sadness.

Gradually, I began to sense her presence.  I might be in the back of the house where I could not possibly see her, but I knew when she was there.  I would go the front kitchen window where I could just barely see her out of the far corner of the pane, and there she would be.

I gradually came to believe that she know I was there, too.  Even if I could only see a glimpse of her from my window, I think it would not be possible for her to see me.  She could probably see a little part of my tinted window, but with reflections and glare, no more than that.  Yet, she often looked right directly at me.

As the seasons changed, even as little as they do in Southern California, she seemed to come outside a little less often,  She would be wearing a jacket and a scarf to cope with the wind and the chill it brought along with it.  Still, we were in strong communication.  Wrapped up in warm pajamas and fuzzy slippers, I would rush to the kitchen window as if summoned.  And through the gathering darkness and drizzle, she looked back at me,

Winter had come, and the cold and rain along with it, day or night.  I began to worry about her.  She would still come out in the wind or drizzle or pouring rain, day or night, and sit in that old plastic lawn chair and smoke her cigarette.  She still never appeared to be distressed, but only projected that mild aura of sadnsss.

Naturally, my imagination went wild.  Why did she live in that slum?  She had decent clothing and could afford to smoke.  Most people had to give it up a long time ago as cigarettes became more and more expensive and the health do-gooders were shaming everyone with graphic advertisements on television.  Yet there she was, looking up at me while she drew on her smoke.

I wondered who she lived with.  Did she have a mean husband who made her go out into the rain to smoke?  Had she been taken in by relatives who were less than pleased to have her there?   I had visions of Cinderella scrubbing the hearth, and I swear I felt her laughing at my nonsense.  I am certain she was feeling my puzzlement, as well.

There came a time when she came outside less, and I failed to rush to the window when I knew full well she was there.  It seems that our communication was slipping away somehow.  A void appeared and grew like a crack in the alley.

I realized that I was no longer feeling her presence.  I was feeling an echo of her presence.  I was feeling her absence.  She was gone.

I saw some furniture stacked in the alley this morning.  That’s what happens there when someone moves, gets evicted, or dies.  The property manager takes the best of the stuff left behind and puts the broken lawn chairs and other trash in the alley.

I hope she has moved somewhere and is still alive and having her cigarettes in a better neighborhood and that she is being treated kindly.  But the absence of her presence is strong.  She has vanished.

There is just one last thing that is strange about my communication with the lady.  I asked several neighbors about her, and they said they had never seen her.  I saw the property manager out in the alley where she had lived, and I left my gated community, went across the street and into the alley where I approached him with my questions.

He first said that he had taken nothing from his tenants that did not belong to him, and then he told me that no such person had ever lived there, and further, that I was either mistaken, blind, or crazy.

I confessed to all three.  Vanished, but I can sense her laughter as she smokes.