The Eagle and the Rose (12 page)
As we pulled into the school parking lot, Mick remarked on the number of cars there were, but we were lucky and found a space. Naively I assumed that all those cars must belong to people attending night school classes, so imagine my amazement when we were ushered into the hall.
There were well over three hundred people in the place, all of them sitting there, waiting patiently for the evening to begin!
I could feel the panic rising in me, and turning to Mick, I muttered, “I can't go in there, not with all those people, Mick, I just can't do it.”
But his reaction was completely different from mine. Grinning from ear to ear and rubbing his hands together delightedly, he replied, “Don't be silly. Come on, this is great, just great.” And, grabbing my arm, he began steering me down the center aisle toward the stage.
He couldn't wait to begin.
We had entered the hall from the back, and as we headed forward, faces turned toward us and I could see people nudging one another and hear voices murmuring, “That's her, that's her, that's Rosemary.”
This just seemed to bolster Mick's confidence even further, but all I wanted to do was run away.
After what seemed like an eternity, we finally reached the stage, and I remember standing frozen to the spot, with my back to the audience, looking up into space, trying to find Grey Eagle.
“Help me,” I begged. “Please don't make me face all of these people. Make a hole appear. Make me disappear. Do something, anything,” I pleaded, “but don't make me face the crowd sitting behind me.”
But Grey Eagle didn't seem to be listening to my cowardly pleas, and I found myself with no alternative but to climb onto the stage. If I had run, I don't think I would have gotten very far before Mick hauled me back.
The chairman of the Parent-Teacher Association gave me a lovely introduction, and as I stood up to face my audience the applause was warm, sincere, and welcoming.
That should have made me feel better, but it didn't— nothing could, I was so intimidated by the size of the crowd, and it was with my knees knocking furiously that I began.
It took me less than ten minutes to give my introductory talk, to explain what we were going to do, who Mick was, that he was a healer, and that he would be giving a talk about his work.
I had raced on, my speech almost incoherent as I gave this information, and as my voice began to wobble and my nerve began to crack, I hurriedly handed over the proceedings to him. The audience was a little confused at first by my short outburst, but they soon settled down and gave Mick their full attention.
Gratefully I sank onto the chair, and relief flooded over me. The first part was over, and I had a respite … but not for long. Although Mick can talk the hind leg off a donkey, even he would have to stop soon, and after all, it was me these people had come to see. I was the one they had booked.
What on earth, I thought as I looked around this sea of faces, had possessed me to come?
I looked around at my audience again, and again panic seized me.
Oh, God, I prayed silently, Grey Eagle, don't desert me, please…. And in that moment I saw him as I always do, whenever I need him or when he needs to communicate with me.
Standing tall and proud, right at the back of the hall, was my guide, looking at me with sympathy and understanding, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Be still,” I heard him say to me in a voice loud and clear to my ears, “be calm and listen. There are those in spirit who want to communicate, and they need you.”
Mick was forgotten, my audience was forgotten, and my nerves were also forgotten as now I searched for those who were trying to reach me.
Within seconds I became aware of a young man standing on the stage beside me. He was tall and quite good-looking, with strong features and a determined look in his eyes.
“My name is Alan.” He spoke quite clearly, the determination in his voice matching the look in his eyes, making quite sure that I would hear what he had to say. “I passed over as a result of a car crash twelve months ago, and I would like to get a message to my wife.”
“Can you direct me to her?” I asked him silently, and he pointed to a lady sitting in the middle of the hall.
“That's her sister,” Alan told me. “Please, will you help me? I must let my wife know that I'm all right.” His voice then broke a little as he went on, “And the kids as well, my two babies.”
I listened intently to Alan as he expressed his thoughts and feelings to me, and perhaps I should explain to you, the reader, yet again that I will frequently make communication with those in the spirit world without any outward sign of doing so. I see and hear spirit people in many situations, in restaurants, bars, walking, and so forth. My “visions,” as you might call them, are a common occurrence to me. In this same way I see Grey Eagle, when I wake in the morning and throughout my day he visits with me. He will even help with the most mundane chore if I ask him, which I do. I ask him questions like Did I put enough salt in the stew? How long should I cook the roast? Does this need more sugar? My guide is great to have around the kitchen.
When I am by myself, my communication often will take the form of my speaking out loud, but it is just as natural for me to talk to those in the spirit world using thought … or mind talk, and this was how I was now communicating with Alan. My developed senses and sensitivity allowed me to “feel” his emotions as profoundly as if they were my own. I was able to hear him and see him as clearly as if he were still on the earth plane, and so the audience at this point was completely unaware that anything “out of the ordinary” was happening.
Mick talked for another fifteen minutes, but I wasn't really aware of him, for I was too busy listening to Alan, who was now very keen to get on.
Over and over, while he was waiting, he would repeat, as if to reassure himself that I could still hear him: “It's Alan, just say it's Alan.”
Finally Mick wound up and handed the stage back to me, and as I stood up, the jelly came back into my legs and for one brief moment I felt paralyzed.
Then a firm hand was placed reassuringly on my arm beneath the elbow (only those of you who have experienced real physical contact with someone in the spirit world will understand this), and I was propelled gently down the stage steps to face the eagerly waiting crowd. Grey Eagle was with me!
Once again I heard Alan's voice, and I looked to where he stood, beside a young woman with blond hair. Confidently now, I pointed to this lady and, as precisely as I could, began the message.
“I have a young man standing next to you,” I said, “who was killed in a car crash. He tells me that his name is Alan,” I continued, but before I could say anything more, this poor woman let out the most dreadful yell and promptly burst into tears.
Every single person in the hall seemed suddenly to sit to attention, some craning their necks to get a better view of what was going on. Apart from the sound of heartrending sobs coming from the lady I had been attempting to give a message to, you could have heard a pin drop. Everyone sat with bated breath, and the air was electric.
After waiting a few seconds, I tried again to give Alan's sister-in-law her message, but she was too upset. I heard Mick's voice behind me.
“Go somewhere else, Rosemary,” he said, “and then come back later when she's calmed down a little.” That seemed like a good idea to me, so I started to cross the hall to the far side.
But Grey Eagle and Alan had other plans.
When a medium is working and, as in this case, giving a demonstration, he or she is directed by her guide and can't decide herself where she should go, whom she should go to, or what messages to give. And no matter how sensible it seemed to suggest that I go somewhere else, it simply wasn't going to work that way.
“No matter how traumatic and upsetting this may seem to you to be, you must go back and continue with the message,” I was told by my guide. “But don't worry, everything will work out well.”
Trusting that Grey Eagle would know of the need of this family for a message from Alan, that no harm but only great joy would come from this, I was reassured.
So back I went. “I'm really sorry,” I said, “but I'm afraid I have been told to try again. If you would prefer me not to, then I won't, but if you would like me to continue, then perhaps you would say so and we can get on with it.”
Tears still streaming down her face, the young woman looked at me and with desperation said, “Please, please don't stop. I know I'm upset, but this is terribly important to me, and I really would like you to carry on.”
So I continued. Alan told me how his wife, the sister of the lady I was giving the message to, had often nagged at him for driving too fast. Many times, he told me, she would say, “You'll kill yourself one day, and then what will happen to me and the kids?”
“Well, that's exactly what happened. I drove too fast round a bend in the road, and here I am!”
Alan went on to say how sorry he was that he had left his wife to fend for herself and his two young children, both under four years old. His main concern was that his wife should know he had survived death, and he was with her, and that he would be helping her and his children in any way he could.
The last message that Alan gave was to his children.
“Please, let them know that I'm not dead, and that I will always be around to guide them. And please,” he begged, “please tell my babies that Daddy loves them.”
The rest of the evening progressed rapidly and went extremely well. There were many messages given by me to various members of the audience via those in the spirit world. Occasionally the response would be slow because it is not always the most obvious person who has died who wants to give a message. Sometimes it might be a grandmother you know of but have never met because she died before you were born, or it could be the son of a neighbor or friend, unconnected to you in any way, someone who sees you as a way of letting his family know that he survived death and is okay.
There are times when the person trying to reach you from the spirit world is someone you have never even heard of, but he (or she) will let you know by the things he will relay to you that he knows you. Then he or she will ask that you go home and check with your family to verify his (or her) identity. This is what happened with Martha, a story I relay later on in this book. And of course there were those in the spirit world, like Alan, who were immediately recognized.
Overall the evening was a great success, the response from the audience amazing, and dozens of people came up to me afterward. Some came to tell me how much they had enjoyed it, some to ask for my phone number, and there were also some who came just to look at me. One or two just wanted to touch me, to hold my hand or stroke my arm.
I had, on that night, with the help and love from Grey Eagle and my spirit friends, inspired many, and we had been able to give hope and comfort where before there was none.
Since that time I have given hundreds of demonstrations, both in England and abroad, and although I am often still nervous, I have learned over the years that those in the spirit world ask only that I give my best, for that is enough. Now when I stand before an audience, no one would suspect the trembling beneath my skirts.
The reason I give these talks is not, as most people would suppose, to prove that there really is a life after death. Nor is it especially to give evidence of survival. Indeed, I often begin these occasions by stating that if anyone has come to see me hoping for or expecting absolute proof that what I believe is true, they will go away sadly disappointed.
It would be impossible for me to provide such evidence in the short time it takes to give a demonstration.
But what is not impossible, and what I try my best to achieve, is to give people just enough evidence to make them think. My one hope is that my audience will go away from a demonstration having been given food for thought; that they should then go forward on a journey of discovery toward a new awakening, a new awareness that there is more to life, more to death, and much more to God's plan than we mere mortals see.
All I do, basically, is to sow little seeds, good seeds. To plough the field and scatter the good seeds on the land, and then I pray that with God's help, those seeds will be fed and watered.
What I hope is that the people who come to see me, having listened to what I have to say, will go home wondering, “Is it possible? Could she be right? Perhaps there is some truth, somewhere, in what she says.”
And from those questions, maybe just a few will feel the need to find out more.
Ask, and it shall be given unto you. Seek, and ye shall find.
S
ince time began, psychics, seers, and sensitives have talked of the “aura,” the energy field that surrounds not only humans but every living thing, every plant, every tree, every creature on this earth. Many scientists and skeptics have poo-pooed the very idea and laughed openly at those who professed to see this energy field. Then a Russian-born husband-and-wife team, Valentina and Semyon Kirlean, invented a camera that is able to photograph the “aura.” This method is known as Kirlian photography. The Kirleans began their work in 1939, but they had to wait to perfect their invention until 1960, when the Russian government made state money available to them.
The “aura,” or energy field, manifests above and beyond the surface of the skin and surrounds the human body for a distance of meters. There are many layers, colors, shapes, and patterns to the aura, and the characteristics of the aura change according to the mental, physical, and spiritual, or inner, state of a person. Simply put, the aura is the mirror image of the being.
Then we have the etheric body. The same size and shape as the physical body, but unlike it, the etheric (or spirit) body cannot be destroyed, is more real, more solid.
The etheric body is the one we use, those of us who go astral traveling, and many people around the world who have had “out of body” experiences recount looking down at their physical body while still in body form—this form being the etheric body.