Can You Feel a Spirit TOUCH You? The Impact of the Shared Necklace

Can you feel a spirit TOUCH you? Can a spirit communicate in such a way that you actually KNOW it is touching you? For me, the answer is “yes!”

I want to tell you about a young man, a teenaged boy, who came to me during a reading I was giving to someone he was not related to. Sometimes, I’m just as shocked as everyone else when something quite extraordinary happens with spirits. This teenager REALLY wanted to push his way through – and he did!

This young man appeared to me over a year ago, while I was giving a reading for the woman who had notarized some of my readings. She became curious after people kept coming to her to have their affidavits of accuracy about their readings notarized. (I feel it is important when a reading is very accurate to have it notarized, if possible, so that others will know that there is validity to mediumship.)

While I was sitting with Betty, the notary, I was tuned into one of her relatives. Suddenly, I felt a “WHACK!!” across the back of my neck! My body thrust forward as I was pushed and whacked across the head! “Whoa,” I thought! “Someone is trying to break through!”

With that, a young man appeared to me. I told Betty that I had just been hit over the back of the head by this man, and he, obviously, wanted to get through, so I had to see what he wanted. I began to describe him: Tall, sandy hair, happy-go-lucky, and he insisted that I listen to him. I asked if she knew who he might be. At first she didn’t know. Then I started to receive information about his death: the curved road, the trees, the crash. I asked if she had ANY idea WHO this kid was???!

Finally, Betty said, “I think I know who it is. It’s David.” I asked who David was and why he would be here with her. She said that she couldn’t think of why he would be here, except that he dated her niece, and that she was his girlfriend. That was the only connection she had with him. She then told me about the car crash he was in three weeks after high school graduation. The crash on the country road in the middle of the redwoods. And I knew then that the impact I felt across the back of my neck was a simulation of the impact in the car crash.

David was quite animated! Quite a lively, and fun guy. He then began to show me his “girlfriend.” I expected that I was describing her niece. But…no. It was a girl much different in appearance, Betty told me. This girl was blonde; her niece was quite dark. He then showed me an engagement ring in regard to this blonde-haired girl. I assumed that he meant that he was serious enough to marry her. Betty was insistent that it was her NIECE who was his girlfriend when he died. But David kept insisting it was the blonde! It was funny how the spirit of David and Betty, the notary, were, basically, arguing with each other! Finally, Betty actually admitted that although he was still friends with her niece, that just before he died, he HAD started to date….the blonde!

I asked if Betty knew David’s mother, so that she might contact her for him. Betty said she really didn’t know her. I was stumped. I didn’t know what to do – David was trying VERY hard to break through and to communicate – he actually managed to have me FEEL his TOUCH! That IS unusual! However, I did not feel comfortable calling his mother and telling her he had come to me – I had no idea what she would think, I didn’t know this family, and this was the first time I had heard of this car accident. So, I let it go.

Several weeks later, I had a group reading at my house. About 10 people attended. As I was about to begin the group mediumship session, I explained that sometimes people who we are not expecting, or even don’t know, could show up. Then I began to tell them about David Maze and how his spirit had literally hit me across the back of my head.

At the end of the group session, one of the women whose daughter had clearly come through, approached me. She said that she was about to interrupt me when I began to talk about David, but didn’t. After her participation in the group mediumship session, she felt compelled to tell me – she knew David’s mother!! She asked if she might call his mother and tell her about him. Of course, I said “yes.”

It was about a week later when David’s mother showed up at my door for her reading. She was a lovely woman, wearing a long, flowing skirt, with long hair to match. I could see why David was so handsome.

As we went through the reading, David insisted that I practically relive all the different scenes from his short life. At one point, I told David that I needed to have “evidence.” I asked him to please quit reminiscing, and to please give me something to show his mother definitively that it was him.

At that point, David appeared about 10 feet from me dangling a gold chain. I could see from the distance that it looked like a locket, and was elongated in shape. He kept telling me that it was “shared” between him and his mother. It went from her, to him, from him to her, from her to him. I was very confused. I had no idea how it could be a “shared necklace.” So, I told her what he was telling and showing me.

At the end of the reading she said to me, “Would you like to see the necklace?” And she pulled a gold chain from inside her clothing. It was oval in shape and gold. It had been given to her after his death by her former employer. I still was wondering to myself how it was “shared.” Then she opened the locket….and inside were locks of her son’s hair! Certainly, a “shared necklace!”

So, you see, the dead CAN communicate with us! David clearly wanted to contact his family, and I was available. His determined pushing and knocking me across the head so that I was thrust forward with the impact, certainly made an impact on me!

The spirit of youth, the spirit of life, and the spirit of David, are all one. “Thank you, David, for knocking that into my head!”

5 Comments

Filed under Psychic Medium Sharon Tenney

A Visit From My Dad – Our Story

My dad, William Tenney, whom I called “Saint Bill,” was wonderful. I love him very much.

Dad passed away almost two years ago. He was 86, but still had swatches of brown hair amidst the grey. He never had a bald spot, and he walked a mile each day until the day of his last stroke.

Simply speaking, my dad lived a full life; a life filled with challenges, yet simple joys.

As a kid, he grew up in Superior, Wisconsin. His mother had been married before with other children. My dad’s dad, whom I never met, moved from Missouri to Wisconsin and met my dad’s mom. She was Norwegian; my grandfather – my dad’s father – was Irish.  Dad moved to Buffalo after having been there with the Merchant Marines – when I asked him why in the world he would move from Wisconsin to Buffalo, New York, he said, “It was warmer!”

My dad was raised a Christian Scientist. He always had a positive attitude.  Although my three younger sisters, my mom and I, were night owls, he’d religiously call to us on weekends very early in the morning, whistling and singing, “Rise and shine, it’s a beautiful morning! The birds are singing, the sun is shining.” Then he’d be in the kitchen flipping pancakes and making scrambled eggs. He always had a full glass of milk with all his meals.

I came along first. My dad was 21 when I was born in Buffalo, New York. I have photos of him holding me as a baby. He always loved children. There was a delightful part of him that could become child-like in appreciation – the “oooohs” and “ahhhhs” when shown a new computer device that he knew nothing about, yet knew this was one of those “ooooh” moments. At the time of my birth we lived in the City of Buffalo on the Westside of town. It was a huge turn-of-the century brick building near Bryant Street and Elmwood Avenue.   Huge oak trees lined the streets, and it was a vibrant neighborhood. I had a wonderful old woman as a neighbor, and she played a grand piano. I remember going to her apartment often to listen to her play.

When I was seven, my first sister was born. I immediately learned how to change diapers and make formula and heat baby bottles. At first it was fun.

With the coming birth of my first sister, my parents decided to move to the suburbs in Cheektowaga, New York. To me, it was very sad, as I loved the city, and the tree-lined streets, and my friends. It was then that the wheels began turning in the opposite direction. It was the 1950s and families were expected to have about four children. That’s what my parents had – only they couldn’t afford them, and I think we all suffered for it. With the age difference between me and my three sisters, there was an invisible barrier that stood between us – they had their circle together, I had just me.

Our family moved to the suburban projects into a row-house that had a coal-heated furnace. The coal man would come and the truck dumped all those black cubes of coal into our coal bin. Dad would shovel it into the roaring furnace during those long, long cold winters. I’d pull a chair into the furnace room and sit in front of the furnace as if it were a fireplace. Living in an apartment in the city was one thing because lots of families did that. But renting in the projects in the suburbs and not owning a home was looked down upon. Obviously, it was the poor people who lived in the projects – ours was called Tiorunda.

When I was ten, my next baby sister was born.  I remember my little sister, the next after me, breaking the arm of the baby – she had tried to pull her over in the crib and that was it – poor little baby had a big cast on her arm. When I was 14, my last sister was born.  By then I remember that we were still in the projects, and our neighbors across the way had six boys — my mom just had our fourth girl.  I remember Dad carrying my youngest sister in his arms while he went to visit with the dad and his sixth son.  Dad and his sense of humor, held out my youngest sister and said, “Want to switch?”  They both laughed, but I guess dad did want that son.  With each sibling, the responsibilities grew. I learned all aspects of mothering. I had numerous responsibilities.

My dad worked at the Bethlehem Steel Plant as a foreman. It was grueling work and grueling hours. He worked shift-work, which meant one week he worked from 7 a.m. – 3 p.m., the next week from 3 p.m. – 11 p.m., and the next week 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. I don’t know how he did it. He was known to only sleep a few hours a night, yet he thought that we who slept normal hours, slept too much.   Because we had moved into the projects with the birth of my first sister, there were still two other sisters to be born. With each new daughter, my dad began working double shifts to cover costs. When he was 53, he had an accident at the Steel Plant and one of his fingers was cut off. I remember saying to him, “Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry about you losing that finger.” And with his typical positive attitude he said, “Don’t worry about it. I had it for 53 good years!” That’s how he turned things around.

My grandmother, my mother’s mother, had a big farm in Alden, New York.  Fifty-six acres of farmland.  She and our “grampa” raised Black Angus and gladiolas.  That was my time of respite.  We’d get to go to the farm and I could wander on my own out to the back of the acreage down to a creek with Johnny Appleseed apples.  I would see red fox in the distance, hear the cheep of birds, and the whistle of the breeze as it cooled my face in the humid summer.  My sisters stayed back at the house because they were much younger — I just walked and walked for hours in perfect silence.

Dad loved the farm, too.  During harvest season, we’d all ride up the silo while it was being filled with cut corn for the cows.  I remember the day that Dad was out in the pasture and the bull happened to be there.  Oh, boy, that bull caught sight of him and it started charging.  Even while hoping Dad would make it out of there, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight of him tearing through the pasture as fast as he could go and then “BOOM!” he leaped over the electric wire fence, and dropped on the wet ground just beyond the bull!  What a sight to see!  That was my dad.

Our mom had become ill and was in and out of hospitals for years. She had nine surgeries in ten years. As mother’s little helper, I took over with the kids, and after school, I cooked meals each night for six people, did the laundry, cleaned the house and did the dishes (no dishwashers then). I made my dad’s lunch each day. He loved cold baked bean sandwiches with a slice of onion on top and some ketchup. I kid you not. Although he ate them every day, I never did eat a baked bean sandwich.

On the day I graduated high school with a Regent’s Diploma (meaning I had done additional work to get a “higher” diploma granted by New York State), my dad immediately said I must go with him to the Steel Plant to get a job! I was horrified. As a poor kid and a girl, I was not expected to go to college, although I desperately wanted to go.  It was decided, though, that I would work, not attend college. I could not imagine working at the Steel Plant and I was panicked. Serendipitously, I had (apparently) taken a civil service test during my typing class in high school. That week I received a letter stating that I was number one on the job list, and to come to the State University of New York at Buffalo for a job interview. Thank goodness I was hired, and became a Clerk Typist.   I no longer had to worry about working at the Steel Plant.  My first job was in the Harriman Library at the old Main Street campus in Buffalo.  It was while working full-time that I took college classes at night.

It was a difficult time for me then, but also for my dad. He had many trials and tribulations, and these are just a few.

Now working, I finally moved out of the house. Ironically, I saved more money living on my own, because I had to pay half of my salary to stay at my parents while still caring for the kids after work, cooking for six, doing the housekeeping, and having little rest. I was able to save enough money to go to Europe for three months. I landed in London and traveled through all the countries down to Spain and then back up again to London. It was my dream to go to Europe, and I did it.

I would tell Dad of my travels around the world. He had traveled the world as a Merchant Marine. Because of poor medical testing in those days, he was denied the regular military because of “sugar” in his urine – but he never had diabetes. He still wanted to be part of the coalition that fought during World War II. He traveled all over with the Merchant Marines. He especially loved Italy, the scenery, the food, its people, and, of course, the beautiful women.

Each time I moved to another state, especially after my mother died, he would always make a trip out to visit me. He did not visit me in Arizona, and that was the year my mother died. When I later moved to Boulder, Colorado, he was there.   He loved Boulder! Never had he been in a town where they had actual leather on the bus seats and they weren’t all knifed up (kid you not). When partiers would walk around with bottles of beer at night, they didn’t toss them on lawns, or smash them on streets, they would line them up carefully in a row at the edge of a sidewalk, ready to be picked up by the garbage men. As we walked through the local mall with all the cars, he marveled that there was no rust on the cars! After all, he was used to Wisconsin and Buffalo – winter reigned and so did rust. With the amazing Flatiron mountains rising above the town where the Rocky Mountains began he was in total awe.

When my daughter was born, he immediately flew to Seattle to see her. I was so happy. He was such a proud Grampa. I was touched that he would come all that way to see Celene.

When I divorced my husband in Seattle, I came back “home” to Dad. He was a surrogate father to my daughter – we both adored him.   I realize now that he was about 67 when we arrived on the doorstep needing help. He welcomed us and my daughter, Celene, now had her Granddaddy. I went back to school to finish my college degrees. During those cold winters with ten feet of snow, and me at school, my dad would fetch Celene from the school bus after kindergarten. Although the house was only 3 houses from the bus stop, he drove with the car heated up, lifted Celene off the big yellow bus so she wouldn’t be buried in the snow, and shuttled her into the warm cozy car – then drove up to the drive way, three houses away.

At my college graduation, earning a degree in Communications, I had a plaque made up for my dad. He was unaware of it. During the ceremony, I had permission to ask my dad up to the podium. He had that child-like look of glee and surprise, and as he approached me, I spoke to the audience and handed him the plaque. I publicly thanked my dad for being supportive and loving and told him how much I appreciated him. The plaque read: To my Dad, Saint Bill, Thank you for all your support. Love, Sharon.” Everyone applauded and I swear I saw a tear in his eye.

When Celene was six-years-old, I tried to get a job that paid enough for us to live on, but could not find one in Buffalo. I couldn’t manage as a single parent there. I had a friend in Santa Cruz who said I could stay with his mother and get set up there. I figured I didn’t have anything to lose, so why not? I took a Greyhound Bus out while my dad watched Celene, and I checked out Santa Cruz. It was quite the contrast from drab, cold, snowy, rainy, windy Buffalo. Santa Cruz was a California beach town. So, I decided to move.

Eventually, we ended up living in the middle of the redwoods in Felton, just outside of Santa Cruz in the mountains nearby. My dad came out numerous times to visit. He always delighted in the little things. The ocean – the ocean on which he was a Merchant Marine, and was so beautiful to gaze upon. The majestic redwoods, tall and gigantic, overlooking all who stood beneath the towering forest. My dad loved it here. He adored it. He loved that all the houses were different, that each had its personal mark. How he loved nature! I think he was a natural-born Californian, but only discovered that in his late 70s.

As old age crouched on him, he began to lose his memories. Eventually, he was in an assisted living home. One of my sisters sent me a “letter” he was trying to write to me. I would send letters and post cards each week, always attaching a photo of me when I was about five-years old, because he no longer remembered the present. He had written on one of my envelopes in which I had sent a letter, and it said, “Dear Sharon, How are things in California?” By then, he didn’t know how to send a letter, but he certainly knew how to send a thought. I am very grateful to my sister who had the sensitivity to send that envelope to me to let me know that Dad was thinking about me – in the present. I still treasure that simple white envelope with my Dad’s writing on it.

The last time I visited him in Buffalo I brought Celene – unfortunately, he did not remember visiting us in California and when he saw her he exclaimed, “The baby?!” “Yes, the baby, Dad. She’s all grown up.” Such a sad moment it was to realize that twenty years were gone from his memory. I managed to “sneak” a video recorder into the home, and took a good twenty-minute movie of him talking about his life. By then, I knew he did not remember more recent events, so I had created a photo book for him that had old photos of our mom, his sister, other passed relatives whom he would remember, and even managed to get photos of Superior, Wisconsin, and put those in. I got a great photo of one of the “Meteor” whaleback ships from the 1800s there still perched in Superior! My dad regaled us with stories about the ships, and the Merchant Marines, his time on the boats. He told stories of “riding the rails” of trains while he was a teenager. We talked as far back as I could remember.

With his last stroke, he collapsed during one of his daily walks. It was madness after that. The hospital, the various homes until one was found next to an old monastery. Infections, paralysis, sadness. By then, he had lost his house (which he finally bought when I was 18 years-old) and he had nothing. Just as he came into this world with nothing, he was going out with nothing.

It was a conscious decision for him to die when he did. It seemed that the closer he came to death, the more his mind became intact. I will never forget the moment that I feel he decided to starve himself. My sister who had lovingly sent me that envelope on which my dad was trying to write a letter to me, took me around to some yard sales and we bought some pretty hand crocheted afghan blankets. We took them back to my dad, and he looked at them, and now being paralyzed on one side and no longer able to walk, he said, “They look like they would work for a wheelchair.” I knew then – I just felt it – that he knew he would never have his beloved walks. This was the turning point.

The next day he refused to eat. As my sister and I tried to hand feed my dad, he pursed his lips together and shook his head “NO!” We tried to get him to drink. He refused. He rarely said anything at that point, but as one of the nurses came to give him a shot, he screamed out, “No more needles!” He had made his decision.

A week later, family and friends gathered around him in the nursing home bed. We took turns sitting next to him and holding his hand. My dad was deaf since he was a teenager and he read lips. Although I was not as close to the bed as the others, I still could reach his hand and I had a good view of his face and he of mine. Knowing he read lips, I “talked” to him silently. I kept clearly mouthing, “I love you,” and “You’re doing a good job.” He continued to stare at me – we were talking while all around us others were talking, but not to him. We were in silent conversation.

At 12:28 a.m. on November 19th, 2012, my dad passed. He was awake until the very last breath. He wanted to be present for his own death. No matter how much morphine they gave him, he did not close his eyes. He knew this was a pivotal moment of his life, and he wanted to be conscious for it.

With the passing of my dad, came the passing of our family. We were not a perfect family. Me being the oldest and in a different generation from my siblings, it was hard to communicate. I don’t think my sisters actually understood me, except for the one who sent the envelope to me – she knows I’m different but she accepts me. I was always the square peg in the round hole.

Joyfully, I end this on a happy note. My dad came to me several months after he died!! Yes! I saw him in my house! I was in my bedroom and looked into my hallway during the morning. I saw my dad leaning against the wall of the hallway, with a smile. He was dressed in his favorite white cable knit sweater with the leather trim, he had on his khakis, and his brown tied shoes. He held but did not smoke a pipe in his right hand. He looked at least thirty years younger. His hair was full and brown again. My dad had vitality. He was happy. I couldn’t believe that I saw him! He was there for about ten seconds and then gone. Oh, but I saw him from top to bottom and the smile of love on his face.

Dad, I miss you so much. I love you.

Leave a comment

Filed under Psychic Medium Sharon Tenney

“Bring in Your Tape Recorder” & Pay Attention to Your Intuition!

Now that I am retired, I want to relate an unusual experience that actually helped me during a very difficult time during my work in a local organization.

I HAVE had some very unusual experiences in my life, and in some ways I have felt guided. Are there Spirit Guides or not? Or are there spirits on the Other Side who just happen to have your interests at heart, and pop in as needed? I have never quite figured out how to separate them, and maybe they don’t need to be separated. Just keep an open mind, and wherever the “information” comes from, just be glad you get it!

I was working in a large agency department here in town, and I worked closely with the head of the department. My life had been very up-turned at that point, and I was clearly hypersensitive. Things had happened that made me quite emotional and sometimes I’d become teary-eyed without an outside obvious reason. However…. I always got my work done, and then some. My work ethic was very strong, and although I did a lot, I did not talk about it all – in retrospect, I probably should have because I know people were unaware of the many tasks I had taken on.

As I am mediumistic/psychic, I do have experiences spontaneously, as well as during a reading. In this case, I got “outside” help — prior information, and a stern warning!

I was walking into my office one afternoon, and suddenly, out of the blue, I heard a male voice say out loud (I couldn’t see him, but could clearly hear him). He said, “Bring in your tape recorder!” Well, even to me that sounded kind of nutty. But I had heard it loudly and clearly! “BRING IN YOUR TAPE RECORDER!”

So I did.

I had NO idea why. But having had unusual experiences before, I thought I’d better listen. Besides, so what if I brought in my tape recorder – it could sit at work, as well as at home.

A month went by. I still had no idea why I had to bring in my tape recorder, and I had no idea who the person was who told me to do so.

About a week later, I was called into the office by the department head for a “meeting.” Suddenly, I just “knew” I was to bring in my tape recorder. From the door of his office, I could only see him and a file cabinet. So, I said, “Let me get my notebook and my purse.” I did get my purse, and I ALSO got my tape recorder! I turned it on and put it into my open purse. As I walked into the office, I saw that another person was there. She was a “big-wig” in the department, but known for not being very nice. In fact, she was known as “The Hatchet Lady.” That should give you an idea of what I was in for.

As I sat through an hour and a half of berating, humiliation, and insults – one of which was that the department head’s desk was messy (not mine, mind you, but his) and I should keep his desk clean! For those of you reading and know where I worked, you’ll immediately recognize the situation!  (It’s okay to laugh!)

I had a memo that was handed to me which outlined my “weaknesses,” one of which was my over-sensitivity (hey, I’m a medium people! I am sensitive!).  In addition to my boss’s messy desk, there were little things added in, one of which was  that I might consider some counseling about my “sensitivity,” which I had already begun. (I knew I was fragile, and someone as sensitive as myself can always use a person outside work or family to talk to.)

Now, the other part was, I knew about Personnel – as I had worked in that section for a number of years. I knew that this initial “memo” was the beginning of how they get rid of someone. Although each item that they covered had already been taken care of, or was in the process of being taken care of, it shook me to the core. But…I had taped that entire hour and a half! The person/guide/friend/family – whoever he was, had prepared me for this moment.

I went home and put the entire conversation between the three of us on a CD. I now had ample evidence to support my claims against theirs. Enduring an hour and a half of put-downs, criticisms, humiliations and also being told I should clean my boss’s desk (I already washed his lunch dishes and silverware for him, not to mention that I frequently dropped off the forgotten wallet or keys that lay on his desk numerous time to his house!).

I was rightfully upset and outraged. And I knew “The Hatchet Lady” intended to cut me. There were other cuts falling all around me, and things were changing – I knew I was part of that falling – but…I was not about to fall for things I had not done wrong! THAT was where my CD had every, single word on it.

Yes, I did use the CD to show my “real” side of the story. There was no way to dispute what was said. Eventually, I started thinking about early retirement. I had all the proof I needed, and I used it. However, I also knew that being as sensitive as I am (I mean, how many people have someone who is “invisible” tell you to bring in a tape recorder beforehand, and for a very good reason?), that I should think of just extricating myself from that situation.

The whole CD was transcribed and typed out. It was handed to the officials who needed it. Fortunately, I did not have to go before a board or anything, but I had real proof, verbatim, of what was said. Every…Single…Word!

Are there Spirit Guides, is it our unconscious, and are there spirits looking out for us? I think so. I don’t run around and name any spirit guides, but I’m aware of spirits, in general, around us. I didn’t recognize his voice, so I have no idea who it was, but he clearly wanted me to be prepared. “How” did I know that was the day and that was the time I was to use the tape recorder? It was at a very basic gut level. It can be compared to the simple example of how we just “know” who is calling us, or we are thinking about someone and a few days later they contact you out of the blue. It’s a gut level of intuition that “talks” to you.

Pay attention! That is the key! Pay attention to those people, places and things around you. Allow yourself to relax, even momentarily, so that you are receptive and sensitive enough if someone wants to let you know something.

For me, it brought me much solace to know that “someone” out there could “see ahead to the future,” and “knew” what was coming up – knowing that I did not have that information. So, he did the best he could – he warned me, I got the message and I brought in my tape recorder! Boy, am I glad I did.

Sometimes that “little voice in your head,” may just step outside and tell you clearly and loudly, that it is there! Don’t ignore it – you never know when that “odd voice,” or “gut feeling” will tell you where to go. Trust your intuition and inner (or outer) voice. Pay attention!

“Thank you” to the spirit who so kindly helped me! I am grateful! (Oh, excuse me, I think I hear someone talking to me again…lol…you never know when they will show up!)

 

 

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Psychic Medium Sharon Tenney

LIFE AFTER DEATH EVIDENCE – Spirit of Louis Unexpectedly Jumps into Reading – No One Knew He Was Dead!

I want to give an example of why I believe life after death exists. Although I have had many psychic/mediumistic experiences, I am still skeptical. For me, I need to have what I consider “proof.” The following is an account of a reading that I did last year for someone who lives in the same town as me. The evidence was even hard for me to ignore. See what you think.

I was reading for a woman I will call “Suzie,” a married woman with several grown children, and was with her father in spirit who was on my left side. Frequently, spirits when talked to “on command” (not spontaneously) will communicate through the mind telepathically and in the mind’s eye with pictures. This was the case with her father.

Suddenly, a man “jumped” in next to me on my right side — I could even feel the “thump” next to me. He shouted quite exhuberently into my ear: “Tell her this is her ex-husband, and tell her that I love her!” I was so startled and I assumed that Suzie, herself, had seen and heard him, but she hadn’t!

I relayed the experience to her, and she stared at me, and asked “Louis?” I said, “Who’s Louis?” Suzie responded: “I was married to him 25 years ago.” I asked when was the last time she had contact with him and she said it was over 20 years ago. I asked if she knew if he had died — she had no idea, although if he were dead, he would have had an untimely, early death and would’ve been probably in his 50s.

I suggested we do an internet search to see if we could find any obituaries about him — we did and none were found. At that, we assumed he was still alive and that my information and experience were invalid.

A year later, Suzie called me to tell me she had had some vivid dreams where she was talking to Louis and she was now ready to finally find out if he was indeed alive or dead.

She came over to my house, and we did another internet search, gathering all the names and numbers of Louis’s in the area where they had lived 25 years ago. We called the various numbers with no success. At that, she remembered his brother’s name and the state that he lived in. Another internet search revealed the phone number.

As I called the number, Suzie began feeding me various details so that his brother would know quite conclusively about whom I was talking when I mentioned Louis.

His brother came to the phone and I asked him if he knew of a man named Louis who was married to this woman named Suzie, and supplied all the details so that he would know exactly about whom I was talking.

He paused, and then said: “I HAD a brother named Louis who was married to her…..but he died five years ago of brain cancer!”

At that, Suzie grabbed the phone from me and began excitedly talking to Louis’s brother. To say we were all surprised, is an understatement. Truly, Louis had managed to communicate quite clearly!

Thus, although I have had many experiences, this one, in particular, was something which neither I nor the person for whom I was reading knew anything. It had been 20 YEARS since she had had contact with Louis. And, yet, he was able to “find” her, to know when she was using me as a tool, and to clearly communicate who he was, his identity, and what he wanted to tell her.

His animation, his “thumping” next to me, his clearly shouting his message — all were unmistakable.

To me, this illustrates not only life after death, but some basic premises of life after death.

First of all, we DO survive. Secondly, we seem to maintain our personalities. Third, we are able to, somehow, “know” when someone we love is using a medium, and to somehow be able to travel to them. We are able to communicate our messages. Now, Louis WAS unique in that way. It takes a very strong spirit to manifest nearly physically, and that IS unusual, which is why it was so evidential to me. Why some seem to be able to break through easily and others have a difficult time, I do not know why.

However, it is evident that the spirit does indeed survive death. And what does that mean for us??

Most of the messages I receive indicate two or three things: 1) that the spirit is “okay,” and 2) that they “love” the individual they are communicating with, and 3) in some cases (such as suicide or hurtful relationships), that they are “sorry.”

Because the physical “things” and material possessions do not travel over to the other side with the spirit, one is then left with the basics of life and personalities: love and forgiveness.

Thus, spirits seem to want to talk about and convey the most important messages: that they love the people left behind, and, in some cases, are sorry how they treated them. I don’t think the spirits actually knew they would survive death. Once that realization is achieved, it becomes important to convey feelings of love and ask for forgiveness.

As for some lovely fantastical after-life — it doesn’t appear that way to me. It appears that those on the other side live in some parallel universe making their lives and relationships similar to here. Only now, they have an illuminated awareness of what is truly important when one does not have or need money, objects, or status — the bottom line is how we treat others. That seems to be it. To me, it gives clear guidelines on how to live our lives here. Status, money, aquiring “things” seem to be incidental — it IS truly about our actions toward others that matter. Therefore, honesty and generosity of heart are most important.

So, for now, I leave this experience with you. It has impacted me with the essentials of life. I do not have to achieve some “angelic” status in life, nor do I have to strive to be the best or the biggest. What I need to do is to give myself honestly and completely to those I love, especially my daughter. My “importance” in life will not be judged by what I HAVE, but, rather, by what I DO.

I hope that this helps you, too.

1 Comment

Filed under Psychic Medium Sharon Tenney

Aunt’s Face Transfigured on Others’ Faces — A Synchronistic Intuition Clue

Greetings. We all have some intuitive sense. Just like with music, where some seem to pick it up more quickly or are naturally adept, so it seems to be in the psychic world. Some people just seem to naturally have the “gift,” others can be trained to work with latent abilities, but not attain the same level as those who seem to be more naturally-inclined.

However, although there are varying degrees of ability, we still have SOMETHING with which to work. I often use the analogy of prehistoric days: If there was a huge sabertooth tiger around the corner, one should better be able to sense that, or one would be dead. Thus, I do believe our intuitive capabilities stem from the beginning of time, and as technology grew, our intuitive abilities diminished — they just weren’t needed as much. However, we can still recognize them and “practice” them.

Because I have had many psychic experiences throughout my life, I am sometimes more alerted to intuitive bursts than I would normally be. Let me give you an example of intuition which might normally be pushed aside.  This “phenomena” that happened is called “transfiguration,” although at the time I did not know that word.  It was pretty amazing to me.

When I worked at the University of Colorado in Boulder, I would take pleasant walks alongside a calm lake. These walks were very soothing to me. This particular day, I walked over the bridge of the lake, and someone else passed me by. As I looked up at them, I saw the FACE of my AUNT super-imposed on THEIR face! Well, you can imagine my surprise. Of course, I figured I was just imagining it.

The next day, walking on campus under beautiful shade trees, the same thing happened! I looked up at the person passing me, and saw my aunt’s face super-imposed on theirs! Well, I began to think I was having a problem.

On the THIRD day, I was again walking through campus, enjoying the calmness, and as someone passed me, again, I saw my aunt’s face super-imposed on theirs. Well, that was too much.

I realized by the third day that it couldn’t have been an accident. I hadn’t seen this aunt for at least 10 years, nor did I have any contact with her. I had seen spirits before, so suddenly I thought, “Oh, my gosh, she must have died and is trying to contact me!” I really couldn’t figure it out. So, I went to the local library, took out a Buffalo phone book and looked up her address. I was too embarrassed to call.

I wrote her a nice letter inquiring about her and the family and giving my regards. (I did not mention my experience.) A week later, I received a reply from her! She wrote to me, “I was so surprised to receive your letter, but so glad. Your uncle and I were going through the attic and we found a poem you had written about your mother [who had died] that was in the “Buffalo News” and we thought you would like to have it. But we didn’t know where you were! Then, suddenly, I received your letter and now I know where you are!” And she enclosed the clipping of my poem about my mom.

So, you see, sometimes we may be thinking of someone very frequently, or seeing books in stores that seem to “jump” right out at us. These can be “clues” that something or someone is trying to give us information.

The moral of the story is that one should be on the alert for intuitive “hints.” Although it is advised to not look at every single little thing and interpret it as a spiritual sign (THAT could be a real problem), we also want to be aware that we never know when our feelings about someone or something may really have significance. Using balance and weighing the event, you should be able to get a feel for if it is “real” or not. And, as you see, I try to “test” out if my experience is real or not. That’s why I wrote to my aunt. I figured if it meant nothing, then at least I would have written a nice letter. But I never would have known if I hadn’t tried to reach her — and I’m glad I did because it was fruitful for each of us.

As always, please feel free to comment and look over the other entries (you can see them all by title and topic by clicking above). Please let me know what you think.

With that, I urge you to “tune in” and listen to your intuition and your heart.

Leave a comment

Filed under Psychic Medium Sharon Tenney

Rosemary, Timothy Leary, Bob Dylan and the Muslin Cloth

Someone was talking to me the other day about celebrities. I’m not much into celebrities, although my cousin through marriage IS Bob Dylan – really – my father’s sister, married his mother’s brother [Bob’s uncle]. And…one of my sisters won a Bronze Medal in Gymnastics in the 1977 World Games in Moscow, Russia – 3rd place in the WORLD! Which, is actually the reason I’m not overwhelmed by celebrity status. My sister, Denise, was a World Gymnast – yet, we shared the same BED!! She used to do flip-flops into the bed and make it shake so much, I couldn’t sleep!! We had our fights, and were like any other people, so it’s hard for me to get all starry-eyed about celebrities. I think they are lucky to have the publicity and connections to get to do what they want, and to get paid a lot for it – that’s what I admire most. I get more starry-eyed over personalities – no matter what the person’s background, celebrity or not. So..… talking about celebrities made me think of a reading I did for someone close to a celebrity (how’s that for a lead in??:D)

This was a group reading I did for a friend from work, who happened to be the roommate of Rosemary, the ex-wife of LSD guru, Timothy Leary. Ro, as she was called, was a beautiful woman – I mean, very physically beautiful, even in her 60s. She had the classic model face of cheekbones and jawline. Her chin-length hair smoothly framed her face. And sweet – she was so sweet and soft-spoken.

At any rate, there were about 8 people there, and I had no idea with whom I would connect on The Other Side. There were a couple of people I connected to very strongly. One was a friend of Rosemary’s – a woman who had died about a year or so before. She came through quite clearly, wearing a vest and hat. As I walked over to Rosemary, I could feel this woman stroke my cheek and I knew that this is what she would do for Rosemary. I told Ro that she would lay her head against her friend, and she would stroke her cheek to calm and comfort her. Rosemary’s eyes were filled with tears and she quietly affirmed. After the group reading, Rosemary came to me with a 4”x5” photograph of her and her friend – with Rosemary laying her head on her shoulder and her friend stroking her cheek! What immediate confirmation!!

The other person I remember quite clearly was a man (I’m sorry, I don’t remember the names, often) who was a friend of a married couple there, Valerie and Mike. I could feel that Mike had a lot of psychic energy coming from him, and I later found out that he was aware of the fact that he has this effect. I told him that I was “working off” his energy, and hoped he didn’t mind – but the plain fact was that I actually could read better standing nearer to him because I could literally feel his energy – sort of like an extra power surge.

As I stood there, I looked at Val and Mike and explained whom I was seeing. I remember the man quite clearly. He had a hat on, and he described the celebrations on the beach, and other various personal confirmations. But what struck me the most was what I FELT. I could literally feel this man placing a fabric over one shoulder on me. It felt like a serape, or some blanket. It felt like a heavy muslin. I was somewhat confused because it seemed to be draped over only my one shoulder. I explained what I was feeling – how he was literally placing this on me, how heavy the material was, seeing the hat he was wearing. I had no clue what it meant.

Valerie and Mike merely nodded and said nothing else. Afterwards, though, they came up and thanked me. Then I was handed a manila file folder. I opened it. And here, on an 8”x11” photograph was this man wearing a cowboy-type hat – with an orange heavy muslin blanket/serape draped over one shoulder!! I couldn’t believe it – exactly as I had described!! And to think that this spirit had somehow found a way to allow me to literally feel the fabric being draped on me!! It was very gratifying.

Unfortunately, several months later, Rosemary died of complications of heart disease. However, I was glad that she was able to have confirmation of her friend before she, herself, passed over. I feel it is a great gift to hear from someone already “over there,” before one dies. It gives comfort and knowledge that we are not alone – and will not be alone when we go, seemingly, alone over to the Other Side.

Although I sometimes don’t see what I do as a “gift,” I need to recognize it more as such. It’s just such a natural thing to me, that it’s like my blue eyes – they just are. Hearing confirmation from others, and having the physical sensations, or literally “hearing” spirits speak, is amazing. I appreciate so much any confirmation people give me, because it helps to reinforce that maybe this really is a gift – all wrapped up in this tiny body of mine.

So, a great big hug and thanks to all the spirits out there who so graciously allow me to connect with them – and equal thanks and gratitude to those who allow me to read for them. It is an honor. It is to you I owe my thanks for your gift of sharing. Thank you.

Leave a comment

Filed under Psychic Medium Sharon Tenney

The Gypsy Fortune Teller & The Palm Reading

Gypsies. Yes, gypsies. That’s what I’m going to tell you about today. The gypsy fortune teller.

Last summer, my friend, Julie, and I decided to go see a local fortune teller — a gypsy. Her name is Janet. She and her husband have a little house not far from where we work. The little white stucco home has a little white picket fence around it.

A bright blue neon palm hangs in the window. Yes…just like you see in movies. The blue neon palm hangs wide open, fingers extended — palm up — just waiting for our money.

I knew she was a gypsy. How many “real” psychics have a blue neon palm hanging from their front window? That bright blue sign just begged for my money.

Julie and I left work at noon one sunny afternoon. She quickly drove us to the blue palm and white house, where we parked outside. Dubious, yet anticipatory, we sat in the car debating if we should really go in. It was only $10.00 for a palm reading. I was embarassed. After all, I knew it was a gypsy — I didn’t want anyone to see me going in there. Actually, Julie wasn’t about to advertise the fact that SHE was going in, either……but we did.

Climbing out of her car, we strode to the door of the little white stucco home. We knocked. The screen squeaked open and there stood Janet — just like a normal person — with her little 2-year-old son. In what sounded like an Eastern European accent, she asked what we were wanting — we said the palm reading. We entered directly into her small living room, cramply filled with a wide-screen tv, and an expensive audio system. I took a seat on the couch, while Janet, as she introduced herself, immediately led Julie into a small adjoining room.

I was left with her son. The little tot wanted to play. I guess I was elected babysitter. He tossed a ball around, and hit several pieces of furniture. I really had no choice but to join him on the floor to keep him quiet.

Julie and Janet were deep in her reading. About 20 minutes later, Julie emerged, gave me a sly look, and took her turn at babysitting. I entered the small room.

The room had one small, but high window in it. The room was a buffed beige color, and there was a Catholic altar at one end with candles on it. Statues of Mary abounded. A computer sat in another corner.

There were no dim lights, and I took a seat on a small couch where Janet joined me. She took my hand, turned my palm up and began to read. She told me of a service man in my life — that part WAS true. I don’t really remember much else, to be honest — so I guess it wasn’t terribly revealing. After twenty minutes I was finished. Janet and I left the small enclosure to join Julie who was still playing with her son.

Julie and I gave each other silent looks of “Well, what did she say??” to each other. Quickly we left her home and clambered into the car.

Julie seemed to feel that Janet was pretty accurate with her. She was telling Julie about love in her life. But Janet also cautioned Julie that she should have her aura “cleansed” by the gypsy. Julie was concerned — did her aura really need cleaning?? I assured her that I would clean it for her for free, if it really needed it. (I think the gypsy wanted to take her to the cleaners!! Ha, ha!!)

It was interesting and amusing. Well, several weeks later, Julie wanted to go again to see Janet. This time we were met by her “associate,” a young lady who was about 20. She, too, had that odd accent. Janet remembered us. She began talking to this associate, I shall call Lydia, in their strange-sounding language. Then they approached me and Julie. Looking at Julie and then at Lydia, Janet talked again in their language. Lydia was doing the readings today.

She ushered Julie into that same room. After Julie left, Lydia read for me. When I asked if she could tell me more, give me more specific information, she merely said, “For a LIFE reading, you must pay $100.” I decided I didn’t want to know about my life THAT badly.

After we left their house with the blue neon palm in the window, Julie was upset. Why, she exclaimed, that Lydia told her the same things that Janet did, and added information that Julie had already revealed to Janet! Janet had remembered her and told Lydia all about her! Julie was quite fraught.

Shortly after our encounters at the gypsy palm house, we saw an ad in the local paper for yet another gypsy — another blue neon palm, but in another location. This gypsy had an ad for a palm reading for only $5.00 (with the coupon!). For $5.00, we figured, “why not?” So, Julie called.

The gypsy responded — “Oh, no, THAT was a misprint…it is really $25.00 for a reading.” So, we never did go. Another woman we know saw the same ad, only months later but in a different newspaper. She called for her $5.00 reading — only to be told that, “Oh, no, THAT was a misprint….” Hmmmm, seems funny how that SAME misprint keeps appearing exactly the same.

Maybe Julie and I ought to go and read THEIR palms. Let’s see, that’s only $5.00 a reading from us. Oops, sorry, now that I have you here, I meant to tell you that it’s really $50.00 a reading. What? You mean you didn’t know ahead of time? Well, let me see your palm, and I will tell you the future …. if you cross my palm with money, you will be sure to make us rich!

Sometimes when I drive down the street at night I see that blue neon sign bright as the sun in the dark sky. The finger beckoning me in….”Come and I will tell you your fortune…just $5.00 for a reading”….and I keep on driving by until the blue neon sign is just a faded blue blink in my rearview mirror.

Leave a comment

Filed under Psychic Medium Sharon Tenney