Writing Creatively With Spirit

A journey of psychic discovery

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African Ancestry – The journey continues

Friday 15th March 2013

A few weeks ago I wrote about meeting my grandmother in a meditation which led to me start researching slavery and my ancestry.


I also wrote about the voice in the night which led me to Tom Seligman,


African Ancestry DNA kit

African Ancestry DNA kit

and ultimately to a company in America that uses DNA to find which African country my ancestors who were taken to the Caribbean in the Transatlantic Slave Trade were from. I ordered a kit which arrived yesterday.

Today I swabbed my cheeks and sent them back. In approximately six weeks I will know my roots.

If nothing else comes of going to circle I will know this. I don’t know why it’s so important at this time but there must be a reason for it, because I’ve never really been interested in genealogy. I don’t even know my grandmothers, both of whom died before I was born. With both my parents also dead and my last aunt from my mother’s side dying last year aged 101 my links with the past are quickly diminishing.

Maybe I’m about to discover some new ones!!!



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Invoking my creative muse

It’s Wednesday at 6.55 a.m. and I’m about to use the gift I received at circle on Thursday to invoke my creative muse.

Creative muse invoking kit

Creative muse invoking kit

I have my dried lavender flowers, lavender oil, yellow feather and instructions, all beautifully bound in a yellow bag. I have a bell and a compass.

The instructions read: Put you symbol by where you work. Rub a little oil onto it, sprinkle flowers over the symbol while you repeat the following words aloud.

‘Muse of art, muse of sound, muse of thought, gather round. I ask for power, for shining light, creativity in this rite. As I will, Blessed be!’ Face east where you work, ring a bell, add a feather.

I do all of the above assuming the feather is the symbol of my art. Only when the feather is soaked in lavender oil, has dried flowers sticking to every strand, and I’m a little more awake (the ringing of the bell I think) do I realise that I needed a different symbol of my art.

I repeat the whole thing, but this time with a pen as the symbol.

It’s a lovely way to start the day. Beautiful smell of lavender, sound of tinkling bell (a cow bell my son brought back from Switzerland for me) and gently music.

Nothing dramatic has happened. I have a feeling my creative muse has been with me for some time, and had put in a re-appearance yesterday when I began writing on Love is Not a Reward again after a week away.

I’ll face east all day, maybe a good thing to get my back off the radiator anyway, and see what happens.

I research the meaning of Muse and realise that I’ve been working with at least one for some time now. Nice to formally welcome them though. And how thoughtful of my circle friend to think of me.

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Session 20 – Mountains, desserts and rice fields

14th March 2013 – (Thursday)

Eleven’s been a fairly consistent number over the past few weeks and tonight was no different. Eight women and three men including Greg.

We began with a lovely chakra opening meditation which was just what most of us needed, as a few of us had rushed in at the last minute. In my case it was trying to fit in a quick trip to the shop and misjudging the queue.

Anyway, our main activity was photo reading, and I’d forgotten to bring one. Fortunately those more on-the-ball than me had thought to bring more than one, so despite four of us not having photos we were able to carry out the activity as planned.

We picked one from the tray, similar to the psychometry exercise. Greg’s instructions were to look at it briefly, hold it with closed eyes and see what pictures, names or other sensations we got.

My photo was a black and white one of a slim, very upright gentleman of about thirty five dressed in a suit, with short well groomed hair. As I held the photo a wave of chill ran through my body. I thought that perhaps he was no longer in the physical world, but when I later got the name Canada I wondered if perhaps he lived there in the cold.

I got a twitching in my right ear and muscle spasms in my left leg. Although he looked like a very prim and proper man I got a sense that he wouldn’t let much bother him, that he had a very easy-going nature.

The first person who did feedback was so accurate that I think everyone was afraid to follow. We ranged from people who got almost everything right to two who got nothing at all. When it came to my feedback most things were confirmed. The coldness was indeed because he’s deceased. He had a way of ‘deafing’ people out if he didn’t want to listen. When he died his legs swelled up like balloons, and he had a very laid-back approach to life. There was no Canada link.

Our next meditation was pretty much a silent one. After only a very brief guide into relaxation, and calling our guides in for help, Greg left us for about twenty minutes to go into the silence. I got three very distinct images.

  1. I was in a helicopter at the top of a snow-clad mountain. We stayed there for a while just hovering.
  2. I was in the dessert, the one where they do the land speed record. I was in the car, ready to take off. I could see for miles ahead. However, when I got the signal to go the car just went at normal speed.
  3. I saw a huge rice field. I observed it for a while before Greg call us back in to the room.

Greg asked if I understood the messages of the images. I said I thought the dessert one was about me being impatient and wanting to go off at breakneck speed, and this was a reminder that life wasn’t a race. He added that sometimes we need to enjoy the journey, stop and smell the roses. I’ve certainly not been doing that recently. The journey has frankly felt like a slog, but I’m taking steps to put that right, one being only doing one circle a week, alternating Monday and Thursday.

The helicopter at the top of the mountain he said symbolised the heights that I can reach, and the fact I’m in a helicopter and not an aeroplane means that I will have time to savour it. It will not be a flash in the pan.

The rice field he said meant I would have enough to sustain me. Another member pointed out that rice is grown on terraces and that it could mean that my progress will be in stepped rather than linear.

When I got home I looked up rice fields and found images of amazingly beautiful terraces. It is most certainly a beautiful way to develop.

Check out this link to a beautiful rice field.


I’m writing this on Friday, and having taken on board everything from last night found a new sense of calm and fun. I keep looking into the mirror as if I’m meeting myself for the first time, and asking myself the question ‘when did you begin to think that working with spirit was a task to be endured and not enjoyed?

As you know I’m always interested in alternative takes on my meditations so please feel free to add a comment.


Session 19 – Lengthening our strides

11th March 2013 (Monday)

Due to a little misunderstanding with Tim I headed to Oak House on my own today. We were back in the shed (I mean Log Cabin) again, not because of any poorly animals but because it was such a success last time.

There were nine of us including Mary and Zoe and a new lady who had come all the way from Nuneaton. Mary told us that Zoe will be taking the circle for a while.

PICT2217The room had almost a holiday feel with the candles and flowers and bright radiant heaters.

After the opening prayer Zoe said we were going to try sitting in the silence for a while and we all closed our eyes and found our silence, managing eventually to disregard the howling winds outside. ‘A while’ turned out to be about forty-five minutes. Several times I sneaked a peek to see if everyone else was still in the silence, and felt a little guilty when I realised they were.

Eventually Zoe said, ‘bring yourself back into the room,’ and I wasn’t the only one stunned when she said ‘I only did a short meditation today because of the time, and I wanted to give us enough time for feedback.’

‘Short!’ a couple of us spluttered.

Now it was Zoe’s turn to look surprised as she explained that most good mediums sit for at least an hour a day, and very often for much longer. She said that it is in the silence that spirit are really able to speak to us, or more accurately, that we can hear them. Much of the work we do with props, cards, colours, tea leaves, crystal balls does not require direct connection with spirit, but that pure mediumship does.

We were given the option of doing these longer meditations or the more psychic work with shorter meditations. I’ve favour alternating weeks, as I’d like to develop both sides. I think the jury is still out as some people were missing.

When we came to feedback I realised that one of the drawbacks of the length of sitting was that I’d forgotten the images I’d got at the beginning and could only remember the ones at the end. I wasn’t the only one experiencing this problem. Zoe said that if we asked spirit to show them to us again, that they would – and indeed they did.

My first images were of me in an attic where there were many old style rounded top chests with silver and brass fastenings and decorations. At the end of this row of chest was a huge mirror with a thick gold frame covered in a dark cloth. I pull the cloth down but was too afraid to look into the mirror. I got a sense that I wouldn’t see myself, but someone else.

In another scene I saw a huge expanse of land – almost prairie like, arid and cracking. As I looked I saw tiny yellow and purple flowers push up through the earth fully formed. These appeared in small clumps near where I was, but didn’t cover the whole ground.

In another I saw a torrent of words appearing in the air, as if being typed but not on paper, as if being typed in the air. When there was a big chunk they folded into a paper aeroplane and flew off.

Again the images and messages were many and varied. One person was flying in on a golden eagle which changed into a white horse while another saw flocks of butterflies. Some got names while others got place names.

Both Mary, Zoe and other members offered explanations and possible interpretations for our various experiences.

Zoe tried to instil in us the importance symbolism, and asking spirit to help us make sense of what we’ve seen so that we can accurately pass on a message. For example, one of us had seen a camel. She said it was no good telling a sitter that we’d seen a camel. We should be able to interpret the meaning of the camel for the sitter, and to remember always that we can and must ask spirit for the meaning for that person. For instance, a camel could mean a trip to Egypt or to the desert or to the zoo. It could also mean that you have the hump with someone, or that you were going to have to survive for a long time on very little, making sure your resources stretched for the duration of the journey.

The more we sit in the silence and get the symbols, the more we will become familiar with the way spirit wants to communicate with us and to use us.

It was quite sobering for me, realising that I will need to do more meditation. To be honest, since I started the circles I’ve been meditating less, working on the belief that I was getting enough in the sessions. Obviously not!

Zoe then went into trance and her guide spoke to us about the importance of making time for meditation, that it is in the stillness that we find the answers.

We then spent a few more minutes trying to get messages from spirit. Again we had success in varying degrees. Someone saw a ladder for me, a sign that my climb will be rapid. I will be making progress in leaps and bounds.

I saw a kiwi fruit, a coconut and palm trees, and got a splitting headache. I thought it related to the new lady and that there was a New Zealand link. She couldn’t take it but someone else said she had a brother in New Zealand who wears glasses. I said maybe he needs to have them changed, trying to not just give the symbol but an interpretation.

Any thought on what my meditation meant?

How long do you sit each day? Have you noticed increased ability with increased time?

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Session 18 – Little Cottage in Negril

March 7th 2013 (Thursday)

I arrived at Oak House feeling a little wrung out from the week’s activity. (See posts Spirit Speaks – Message in the night). My head was still full of ordering an ancestry test when we sat down. We had one new gentleman who sat to my right. Our eleven was made up of four men and seven women, and as I’d got there with little time to spare we were into the first meditation before I’d got the round of greetings in.

Greg began with an opening prayer then asked us to focus on the flame of the candle in the middle of the room while he led us into the first meditation. Once we had drawn the light from the flames into our bodies and asked our guides to draw near he asked us to close our eyes and began the meditation.

‘You are in a room,’ he said, ‘any kind of room you want. In the centre of the room is a table. On the table is a jug.’

I found myself in a small room in a small house in the Caribbean around a small wooden scrubbed table. It’s the way I’ve always pictured the room from the song Cottage in Negril. The vase was one of those old porcelain water jugs used in bedrooms to hold water for washing.

‘On the wall you’re facing is a rack with containers of various lotions and liquids in various shapes, sizes and colours.’

Out of my wall emerged a rack the size of the wall on which was various shaped old style vials, porcelain pots and jars. There were also bunches of herbs, many of them tied at one end and looking like miniature brooms.

‘You sense or see you guide in the room. He or she goes to the wall and takes various containers off the rack, brings it to the table and pours the contents of the containers into the jug. Notice the colours, individually and collectively.’

Emerging out of the wall was an older black woman. I’m beginning to recognise her now. She’s the same one that was on the beach who took me down into the sea. This time she was dressed in a white calico head wrap and a white dress with short cap sleeves. She took four or five containers off the wall, along with about three clumps of herbs. She walked over to the table and silently poured them into the jug, not looking at me, instead being totally focused on what she was doing. All the liquids were clear and colourless.

‘Bring the jug to your face and inhale the vapours,’ Greg instructed. ‘Within the vapours is everything you need right now.’

Even before he told us to inhale the vapours I’d already begun to do so. It felt like the most natural thing to do, and I could see the steamy vapours streaming up my nostrils.

‘Allow the vapours to circulate within your body, healing any part of your body that needs healing.’

I have a little issue going on with my left wrist and my left ankle, so I allowed extra time at these points. While I inhaled my guide walked to the back of me and gently massaged my shoulders. She placed her hands on the back of my head and I felt the healing heat from her hands.

‘Now place the jug back on the table and thank your guide for his or her help,’ Greg instructed.

As I put the jug back my guide walked around to the front of me, took both my hands and placed them in the prayer position. She kissed the back of each one, then walked backwards and disappeared into the wall.

‘Release the rack from the wall and see the wall as it was before the rack appeared,’ Greg said, ‘then come gently back into the room.’

During feedback Greg offered no opinion/interpretation, and while I’m becoming a little more confident with my own interpretations I’d welcome any thoughts you have on what happened.

I’d had an emotionally challenging week and felt my guide wanted to offer me some tender loving care and some healing, almost a ‘I’m please with what you’ve done and I know its taken it out of you.’ I’m not sure what, if anything, the kissing of the backs of the hands signifies.

Our next exercise was aura reading. As we moved into positions for paired work one of the other circle members, Jen, brought me a small gift in a clear yellow pouch. She said, ‘I made you this to help with your creativity.’

‘What is it?’ I asked a little taken aback. I haven’t developed any particular friendship with anyone in the group, and haven’t even had many discussions with Jen.

‘I thought it might help with your writing,’ she said.

‘Thank you very much, but what is it?’ I was pleased but intrigued.

‘There’s some lavender flowers, a small bottle of lavender oil a feather and a yellow candle. Yellow is the colour of creativity.’

‘What do I do with it?’ I asked.

‘I’ve written the instruction on a piece of paper,’ she pointed out to me, and I noticed the neatly folded piece of paper in the yellow chiffon bag.

‘Thank you very much,’ I said hastily as our working partners were waiting.

I had a measure of success seeing my partner’s aura. I could see the white outline but no colour. She got very excited when she thought she saw indigo, almost verging on black around me. I told her that some years ago I had a colour reading that said about this time I would be coming into my indigo phase. She was very happy with her confirmation, and me with mine, that I am indeed in my indigo phase. It would be interesting to have an aura photo taken soon.

After the exercise I got chatting to my partner about her son whom she believes is a crystal child. I told her I knew more about indigo children as I once thought one of my sons was an indigo child. We traded maternal guilt for not being able to understand our children’s gifts at the outset, and the loneliness and terror we could have saved them in their early developing years. Then I reminded her that we needed to forgive ourselves, because we were only operating from our point of consciousness at the time and believed we were acting in their best interest.

When Greg came to check how we got on I mentioned my experience with the voice and Tom Seligman. (See Spirit Speaks) He said I was obviously working with the law of attraction. The more of this work I do the more I’m getting out of it.

Our final meditation was a chakra grounding one where we sent roots deep into the earth in order to pull up the colours into the chakras. The instructions naturally began with red.

‘Take note of the colour of the red,’ Greg said, ‘this will be important later.’

My red was scarlet, vibrant, and not my favourite red which is more the cherry red. Then we did orange, again vibrant. By the time we got to yellow I could feel myself drifting, and I don’t remember anymore till I heard Greg say, ‘and when you’re ready you can open your eyes.’

I could tell from the feedback that the meditation was about taking in clear bright energy on the way up and on the way down draining away any negative energy. For most people the downward colours were less vibrant, more washed out and pallid than the upward ones.

After our closing prayer I quickly found Jen for a bit more information. She said to follow the instructions on a Wednesday as that was the day of creativity, to face west when I did it and if possible to face west when I write.

It was only when I was sitting in my car about to drive off that I realised the link between my first meditation and the gift she’d given me. My guide had used a combination of herbs and liquids. She had given me a combination of both.

I switched off the engine and ran back inside to share my excitement.

‘I know,’ she said, ‘I was amazed when you shared your meditation. I knew then that I’d been guided to prepare the gift for you.’

I was gobsmacked!!!

Even as I write this I’m still shaking my head in amazement.

Do you have a view on anything you’ve read in this blog? Have you had similar experiences? What do you think the hand kissing means? Do you face west when you write?

The irony is that with all this psychic activity I’ve not done any writing on the book. I hope it was all about clearing the way for a more productive week next week.



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Spirits Speaks – Messages in the night

Wednesday 6th March 2013

I went to bed last night exhausted from my day’s research into the transatlantic slave trade. On Monday night I had dinner with two friends and told them of my thinking; that if we are all linked then I need to speak to my white as well as black ancestors. All of this was still swilling around in my head as I drifted off to sleep.

At some point in the night I was woken with the name ‘Tom Seligman.’ I heard it very clearly spoken. I thought it an odd name and made a mental note to remember it in the morning. As I drifted off to sleep again, by now thinking maybe I’d dreamt it, I heard the name again, ‘Tom Seligman. Get up and write it down. You’ll forget in the morning.’ I got up, scribbled the name on a piece of paper and went back to sleep.

In the cold light of day I began to doubt what had happened in the night, and wondered if this might have something to do with a Jewish connection as my mother’s maiden name is Benjamin.

Hours later I sat down to research the name. Two people with that name came up on Google’s first page. One was a young British conductor and the other, Thomas K Seligman was the ex director of the Cantor Centre for Visual Arts at StanfordUniversity in the United States. It was only when I got the part of his biography that said, He subsequently specialized in the arts and culture of the Tuareg people of the central Sahara, and has organized a major exhibition and catalogue entitled Art of Being Tuareg:Sahara Nomads in a Modern World (2005-2008) that I sat up and took notice.

I began to research the Tuareg people which eventually lead me to uncover the extent of the Arab world in the transatlantic slave trade as well as the Jewish interest. Also the way Christianity, Islam and Judeism have justify the transatlantic slave trade. It gave me an understanding of the background to the current conflict in Mali.

I obvioulsy have to do my own personal journey on this one, because for the first time I comprehended the full extent of black Aricans in the slave trade. Although many have pointed out that no-one on the African continient understood the full extent of the burtality that would be meted out to the slaves once they were taken on board the ships, all this now rests withing the collective world psyche. This is not just a European/American/African issue. It is a world issue, and if we acknowledge that we are universally linked then the world will not be free till slaves are truly free.

I began to understand why I’ve been finding it so difficult to write the story of black Caribbean parents. It cannot be divorced from the experience of slavery, because so much of what happened then still exists today.

I think my ancestors – all of them – want the stories told, but I was ill equipted to tell them. My experience of being raised by Caribbean parents is only part of the requirements.

There may be some of you going, ‘Oh not that old chesnut again. When are they going to stop blaming slavery?’ And in truth I was one of them, but that was from a point of ignorance. The fact that our Caribbean parents have no firm ancestral anchors is a massive handicap.

One of the outcome of this for me is that I’ve decided to take one of the DNA test that will tell me where in Africa my people hail from. It’s obviously important, otherwise why would spirit go through such lengths to make sure I found this information.

Here’s a question. Has spirit ever spoken to you, and if so what did they say? What actions did you take and what was the outcome?

This is truly a fascinating journey.


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Session 17 – Spirits in the shed

March 4th 2013 (Monday)

Tim’s back from his hols, on time and eager to share his pictures, his news and his tan. We arrived in time to find our seats taken by two new people, a young man and a young woman. The centre of the room was occupied with a beautiful display of flowers, candles and crystals. It looked beautiful and an air of excitement was already building.

PICT2186 As we settled into place Mary announce that Zoe would be taking the circle. We didn’t quite whoop, but were all very pleased. This would partly leave Mary free to attend to a new puppy she’s caring for till he can be found a new home. As he was scratching at the door we decided to bring him into the room.

We were only a couple of minutes into the opening prayer when he vomited on the carpet. I shan’t bore you with all the gory details but just suffice to say that it seemed to be coming out of both ends of him, and as he kept moving around he was leaving a trail which Mary was struggling to keep on top of.

It became obvious, even after liberal sprays of Febreeze, that we couldn’t work in the room. But there was an alternative. At the end of the garden at Oak House is a purpose built meditation shed. It would need a bit of heating but the general consensus was that we decanted down there instead. I had often seen it from the window but never really thought about it as a meditation space.

PICT2188  It was decorated inside with pictures of Native Americans, dream-catchers, and other totems, with chairs already laid out in a circle. It took only ten minutes with a couple of very efficient heaters to get it warm enough for us to re-convene. Without Mary, who decided she would stay and attend to the ailing puppy, we began with a prayer for its healing.

The focus of the session was to concentrate on each of the seven of us in turn to get message from spirit for a) our spiritual development and b) our everyday life.

It must be a measure of the frequency of my participation in these groups that I’m much more relaxed about accepting what comes into my head; skiing in Mount Blanc, a motor bike, one member putting down a crutch and walking away from it, another dressing up in a blonde wig while still another reaching for the salt to add to her meal then changing her mind. All of these things meant something to the people for whom I’d got the messages.

The messages I was given all centred around writing, having more fun, and being protected by spirit. One in particular saw me with a shield against which toy arrows were being aimed, but were just bouncing off. As this was related to writing I took it to mean that I’d be able to cope with any criticism of my work. This was an important message for me because I really struggled with one of the stories I had to write last week. At the back of my head was the thought of how it would be received by my community, some of whom could well see me as naive at best and a traitor at worst.

Unfortunately, given the late start and the individual nature of the messages, we ran out of time for Zoe to do another trance demonstration. I was really hoping for this, as she says sometimes when its dark enough people have actually seen the guide overlaid over her face. We had the right lighting conditions but alas no demonstration.

The two new people are very experienced, and I do hope they keep coming.

And the puppy? Apparently he’d eaten a whole tub of fish food that had fallen onto the floor. He was fine once it had all come out.