Everybody is Psychic

In the winter of 1973 at the Toronto Society for Psychical Research I was challenged over the coffee cups by an elegant lady: “Oh, so you think you are psychic, do you?” Somewhat taken aback by her vehemence, I replied, “Yes. I believe everyone  is.” Paul and I often felt that no one understood us better than the spiritual guides who spoke through my hesitant pen when we sat down to consult them with a blank piece of paper between us.

Relief from our searching came in April, 1974, when we read a gem of a book by one Howard Murphet about a Man of Miracles in India. Murphet, a respected journalist from Australia and a student of world faiths and holy figures, had met Sathya Sai Baba in person, and documented the essence of his teachings of love, and many of the healings and transformations attributed to him. For the time being, we lost interest in our quest to “find a good psychic”. Sai Baba stood head and shoulders above the finest psychics encountered in life and in our reading. Paul wanted to go right away to India. I did not. Travel to that exotic destination would have to wait until we “got settled”.

February 1977 found me in London, England, in what had appeared as a dream job and was fast becoming a nightmare on the material plane. Spiritual and psychic spheres came together like a dream. The following autumn our wildest dream of all would come true. Meanwhile, London bookstores abounded in books about Sai Baba, and I met people who had studied at his feet in India. At the British Society for Psychical Research I felt completely at home, sitting in the office of its kindly president, the late Paul Beard. After patiently listening to my doubts about my psychic abilities, he asked me if I had a spiritual master. To my surprise, I said, “Yes, Sai Baba.” Although Mr. Beard had not yet heard of this Baba, he asked me about the connection between us, and I replied that whenever I got worried or upset, I could mentally see his eyes, and calm down. “Keep up your telepathic contact with your guru,” advised Mr. Beard, “And remember: Neither less nor more.”

Rejoining husband and child in France, I spent an idyllic spring in the back country of Provence, while our daughter Mary returned to her one-roomed school and blended into grade six as if she had not been in Canada or the French Riviera for half a year or more. By August, however, we were enmeshed in the thick of a family crisis with no solution in sight - until our wildest dream took shape. Paul sent me to India while he held the fort on the home front. I arrived at the ashram called Prasanthi Nilayam (Abode of Supreme Peace) to consult the Man of Miracles on our family situation, just as a ten-day harvest festival was beginning. I remained through the holiest of Christmases imaginable, and many other auspicious occasions, for four glorious months. On the last afternoon of my stay, Swami called me in for a personal interview to bless me with “a beautiful job”. The beauty of it continues to unfold.

I returned to India five more times up to 1994, with or without husband and daughter. Subtly Baba helped me to develop my abilities to see, hear, feel and know beyond my physical senses. These abilities used to scare me, but they no longer do. Paul and I are the psychics we were looking for. Sai Baba is installed inside our heart of hearts as a loving teacher. I now belong to intersecting communities, world-wide, including followers of Sai Baba, students of the angelic realms under Doreen Virtue, Ph.D., writers, musicians, artists and people who still appreciate the beauties of the natural world. Fairies? Bring them on!