Nearly ten years ago, I traveled to do some teaching and readings in what some people call “The Bible Belt.”
I had been teaching long enough at that time that I didn’t feel an enormous amount of trepidation about bringing my rather “out there” information to an area of the U.S. that many people assume is closed to certain spiritual forms that are outside the norms. By this time, I had connected with spiritual seekers from all over the world, many of whom lived in areas that were considered extremely conservative, so I had been gradually letting go of personal biases about regions of the country/world and spiritual outlook.
I did have an interesting experience with one private reading client, though.
She arrived with that particular look in her eye that I’d seen before on hard-core skeptics. When we tuned in and began, before she’d asked a single question, then-Carruch volunteered a series of images and energies that we’d received during the tune-in. These images were extremely specific, and Carol watched from within as the client’s narrowed eyes opened wider and wider with each sentence.
There was no way we could have known this information — when she’d booked the reading, I had only her (rather usual) first name. We’d never met, and I didn’t know anyone who actually knew her — she’d heard about my visit from the friend of a friend of a friend.
I actually like knowing nothing about a client before I read for them — pre-integration, I sometimes even enjoyed the phone sessions I did more in that regard — not seeing the person actually made it less likely that I might overlay any of my own assumptions on them as I was reading (based on their clothing, appearance, age, etc.).
It was clear from the look on this particular woman’s face that we had just read her with an accuracy and detail that simply defied “ordinary” understanding.
At the end of the session, she said to me (once Carruch had “gone”): “I hope you don’t feel offended by me saying this, but — honestly, I didn’t believe that people like you existed — that anyone actually had abilities like the ones you have.”
I assured her that I was not offended, and told her I hoped that what we had shared with her was helpful to her.
When I returned from my trip and recounted this story to a friend, he responded with: “That’s funny, really, because I find it hard to believe that people like her exist — people who don’t believe in this stuff.”
Over the years, I’ve met with many people who arrived at their session, or a class or circle with an attitude of extreme skepticism. I hold discernment as a vital aspect of personal psychic hygiene, and actively encourage anyone who sits with me to “hold on to their skeptics hat.” In fact, I request and prefer that people not continue sitting with me if they have any sense that the information I give isn’t in integrity or alignment for them; whether they think of me as a fraud or the information simply doesn’t touch them. I think it’s more expansive for all if each individual prioritizes their own internal guidance rather than adopt external guidance which isn’t a “fit” for them.
That said — in the past, I was sometimes surprised at how often the most spontaneous, specific, and “uncanny” information actually came through for clients/students who arrived in a state of extreme skepticism. I believe that, in many cases, this occurred precisely because their own soul had a deep desire to open to something “beyond the ordinary”, and so, willingly revealed information to us that the intellectual mind might have normally defended itself from (had it not arrived in a form that seemed to defy”ordinary” explanation).
Over the years, I’ve spoken with thousands of different people; in terms of their openness to spiritual concepts, these have ranged from those who some would call “guru chasers” (people who practice no discernment at all, to the extent that they subvert their own guidance completely to whatever seeming spiritual authority-figure appears) to those who have simply arrived at a session to play “test the psychic,” (even though their minds are already made up and that wouldn’t be shifted even if I managed to materialize a full-grown elephant into the room).
In between these extremes, of course, there have been all manner of variations and degrees of mind-sets and understandings, and a vast array of motivations for why someone would spend time sitting with a chubby little woman talking in a hard-to-identify accent.
One thing that is fairly consistent, though: If you ask someone why they first came to sit with me, they will usually say that they were intrigued by the thought of interacting with something unusual or “out of the ordinary”.
Which seems funny to me now, in a way. Even before integration, “Carol” had been living in the realm of what many people think of as “extra-ordinary” (channeling, psychic abilities, practicing daily psychic hygiene and alignment with Cosmic Law) for so long that it had become, in many ways “ordinary” for her.
Two of my favorite Then-Carruch quotes are:
“You pray and pray for the miracle, and then when it appears, you say ‘That’s so Weird!”
“You come to see the psychic and then you’re surprised when they’re psychic.”
On my walk yesterday, I was very aware of one of the delightful effects of this blending of the oversoul and soul constructs that I’m naming as Conscious Integration: That the extra-ordinary has become deeply ordinary, and the ordinary — profoundly extra-ordinary.
From my current state of consciousness, contemplation of the parade of past incarnations that I’ve taken through time simply seem sensible and orderly. Of course I would have chosen to incarnate in this or that particular time and place, so that I could meet this or that soul and form agreements about our “later” interactions. Of course time and space appear as a grid for us to pass over (even though this barely touches the true nature of each) — how else could we have the peculiar experience of sequential Nows?
Yet as I navigate this grid of sensible immediacies, I am brought to amazed stillness as I hear a garter snake slither away through the dried grasses — stunned by the concurrent distance and proximity of mountains showing off their newest snow-robes — surprised at the mellowness of an old acquaintance’s voice as they greet me.
The hunger for the miraculous is within every human being. We want to be astounded and impressed-upon and lifted out of ourselves — it feels wonderful, and energizes us. We crave magic.
Some find it in science, and eschew any notion of divinity. Some find it in religion, judging rationality as limiting and unenlightened.
The magic in these polarities, though, is this: If you look long enough, from enough perspectives, you eventually find everything everywhere — after all — we are the ones who have created the seeming paradox of our existence. There can be no “extra-ordinary” unless we declare the ordinary — no unusual until we define what is “usual”.
We can look all we want “out there” for this magic, and we will never find it, unless we realize that what we are seeking — when we visit the psychic, or peer into the microscope, or fold our hands in the pew — is ourselves.