The Purpose Of Mediumship
To Pick Winning Lottery Numbers, Discover New Cures And Find Missing Cats?

By Bob Olson

A common pet peeve of psychics and psychic mediums is the constant jokes insinuating that psychics are omniscient. Many people erroneously believe that psychics should have insight about every little thing. Why do psychics get into car accidents? Shouldn’t they have known about it before it happened? How could a psychic lose jewelry? Don’t they just psychically know where it is? These questions are best answered by an example, a true story that recently happened in my life.

Melissa’s family is really big on cats. By that I mean they absolutely love cats, they have always owned cats, and they shower their cats with buckets of love. Therefore, as one might expect, when one of their cats is missing, they kind of freak out. In the story I’m about to tell you, Melissa and I had two cats missing at the same time. You can probably imagine that Melissa’s world was turned upside-down.

Melissa’s sister, Caroline, and her husband, Daniel, had gone on a trip to Ireland for two weeks with both their parents (Melissa and Caroline’s parents and Daniel’s parents). This meant that Melissa and I were taking care of Melissa’s parents’ two cats along with Caroline’s two cats. All four cats were at Melissa’s parents’ home only a few minutes from our house. Our job was to go over to their house in the morning to feed the cats and let them outside, and then return again in the evening to let the cats inside and feed them for the night.

Sure enough, only three days after they flew off to Ireland, Caroline’s oldest cat, Daisy, didn’t come home. We didn’t panic (at least I didn’t) right away because cats do this sort of thing often and almost always come home a day or two later. But two days later, Daisy was still missing and suddenly one of our own cats, Pesky, decided not to come home, which was unusual for Pesky. At this point Melissa started to panic.

Melissa and I started handing out posters with Daisy’s and Pesky’s pictures on them. We handed them out around both neighborhoods (Melissa’s parents’ neighborhood and our neighborhood). Melissa began knocking on doors and talking to people at the beginning. Some people were genuinely concerned and shocked that we were missing two cats at the same time. A few men, however, took this opportunity to inform Melissa of all the possible ways that cats get killed: foxes, coyotes, fisher cats, cars. Not surprisingly, this shallow mindset caused Melissa to worry more, so she began dropping the posters inside the door rather than talking to people.

After covering all the bases—animal shelters, animal control officers, public highway department, police department, local veterinarians, and every house within a two mile radius—there was little left to do but wait. Unless, of course, you happen to know several psychic mediums!

The first medium we talked to was Vicki. We happen to be in phone contact with Vicki because I would soon be speaking at her upcoming mediumship demonstration. After I talked to Vicki about the seminar, Melissa told Vicki about the two cats missing. Vicki will always reveal any messages she’s getting for us without being asked; so when Vicki didn’t relay any messages in response to the missing cats story, Melissa assumed that nothing was coming through psychically. Melissa knew Vicki was a little stressed about all the details of her upcoming demonstration, so she didn’t want to add any undue stress on her by prying.

That night Nancy called to say goodbye before she left on a trip to Japan. She wouldn’t be leaving for a few days, but she was calling while she still had time to chat. This time Melissa specifically asked Nancy to see what she could get on the cats using her gift of mediumship. Melissa was feeling desperate and knew Nancy had experienced success with one pet incident in the past. She hoped Nancy might have a special connection with pets. Nancy kindly attempted to connect with the cats. She said she only did this sort of thing once or twice before, but she would give it her best effort.

After raising her energy, Nancy said her results were vague. She sensed that one cat was close to home and would return soon, and the other cat was farther away but still alive. She tried to get something more concrete, but that was the best she could get for now.

Nancy, a sensitive and caring woman, was now quite concerned for Melissa and the cats. She called the next day to see if the cats had returned and to tell Melissa she would put the question to her students of psychic and medium development that evening. Then she told Melissa about her friend, Elizabeth, who coincidentally also called Nancy about her cat that was missing for three days. Nancy told Elizabeth that she believed the cat was alive and would be coming home soon. Within hours, Elizabeth’s cat came home.

That night, about ten o’clock, Pesky came strolling home. She was perfectly healthy, but gobbled up two plates of food in seconds flat. The next day, Nancy called to say that on the prior evening, her students received the same message she was getting: one cat was close to home and would return soon and the other cat was farther away but still alive.

I was relieved that Pesky had returned, and I could see that some of the new wrinkles in Melissa’s face had disappeared, but the dilemma was only half-solved. Days continued to pass with no sign of Daisy. We continued to check the animal shelters and pass out more flyers. Telephone poles were lined with Daisy’s face. Nevertheless, nothing was happening.

After Daisy was missing for six days, we got an email from Caroline in Ireland. She and Daniel had found a cyber café where they could send us an email. Caroline was worried about her cats. She said she had a bad feeling that something was wrong and requested that we respond to her email to verify that her cats were okay. Melissa started sobbing when the email arrived. I was surprised she hadn’t run dry of tears by now because she had worried herself sick about telling Caroline the sad news—she knew Caroline would be devastated. After careful consideration, I returned the email that night saying everybody was fine.

I hate lying. It doesn’t sit well with me, especially if I have to lie to loved-ones. But Caroline is the type of person who would have been distraught by Daisy’s absence. She might have cried the rest of the trip, and this lifelong vacation memory would have been tainted. A two-week trip to Ireland may only come once in a lifetime. Since they still had a week remaining, I made the difficult decision to save their vacation with a lie and hope that Daisy returned by the time they got home.

As if that weren’t difficult enough for me, Caroline and Daniel called the next morning. Apparently I’m not a very good liar by email. Caroline was not convinced of my claim that “Everyone is fine. Jack and Daisy hope your vacation is two paws up!” I had hoped that silly message would be enough. Obviously, it wasn’t.

“Hi, Bob, this is Daniel in Ireland,” said Daniel.

I coughed, squirmed and choked upon hearing his voice. “Oh, hi Danny, how are you guys doing? Having a good time?” I spoke with my happiest tone of voice. I knew I was in deep doodoo.

Daniel skipped the small talk and jumped right to the point. “Ya, we’re having a good time. Look, Bob, Caroline’s having a bad day. She’s got this awful feeling like something is wrong with one of the cats, so we’re calling to make sure everything is all right. You know how Caroline is with her babies.”

I hesitated so slightly. I really wanted to pour my guts out to Daniel and make him bear the burden of the lie. But I knew that was selfish. So I took a deep breath.

“Sure, the cats are fine,” I said. “Melissa’s over the house feeding them now.” [That was actually true, but Daisy wasn’t there.] “Why is she worrying about them so much?”

“Well, I guess she’s had this feeling like something was wrong, so she prayed for a sign. Then she saw two dead birds, so it added to her fear.”

I was amazed at Caroline’s psychic abilities. I wondered if she was feeling Melissa’s fear or if she knew something about Daisy that we didn’t know due to her connection with the cat.

“Gee, Danny, that’s awful. But the cats are doing well. I think Caroline’s fears are getting the best of her. She shouldn’t let it ruin her vacation.”

“That’s what I told her. Here, I’m going to let you talk to her. Here she is…” And he handed the phone to Caroline. I could hear her in the background. She didn’t want to talk to me. She was afraid to hear my voice. She was afraid I would be as unconvincing on the phone as I was by email, and that would just make her feel worse. Daniel forced her to take the phone.

“Oh crap,” I thought to myself, “I’d better pull this off.”

“Hi Bob” said Caroline in a soft timid voice.

“Hey kid. Sounds like you’re having a bad day, huh?”

“Ya, well, I just saw a couple dead birds, and I’ve been getting a feeling like something’s wrong…”

I took another deep breath. “Carrie, Jack and Daisy are fine. You’re being silly. You always worry about stuff. Don’t let your fears ruin your vacation. We’ve spent a lot of time over at your parents’ house, so the cats haven’t been alone all that much” [This was true, too.] “Last night, we watched television over there with them. So stop being such a nut and go enjoy yourself.”

“I know. You know me, worry wart. I feel better now that I’ve heard your voice. I’ll be fine now.”

After we hung up, I felt like a big fat liar. But I also felt strongly about not making Caroline worry while she was on another continent. There was nothing she could do even if she were home that Melissa and I, and other family members, were not already doing.

Later that day, I mentioned to Melissa that maybe we should call our friend Joe. With all these mediums in our life, it was silly not to use every resource available. “I was thinking that myself,” said Melissa. She ran to the phone to call Joe.

I knew there must be a lesson in all this, so I didn’t discourage Melissa from calling Joe. We never call our medium friends for this type of thing, so I saw no harm in making an exception if it might ease Melissa’s anguish. She was dreadfully upset. As soon as she opened her eyes in the morning—her head still on the pillow—the first words out of her mouth were always about Daisy. Plus, Melissa has never been one to pray much, but now she was praying herself to sleep every night. Sometimes she would wake up several times in the night and continue praying until she fell asleep again. She was using every possible tool within her means, and Joe was her next hope.

It wasn’t just that Daisy was missing that churned Melissa’s inner distress. It was the thought of telling her sister the news, and knowing how Caroline would be drawn to tears that added to her torment. I hoped that Joe could be of assistance in some way. His demeanor is so full of compassion and love that I knew he would have something caring and spiritual to impart for Melissa’s sake even if he couldn’t offer guidance for locating Daisy.

I suggested that Melissa ask Joe to connect with spirit rather than trying to connect with Daisy. Nancy thought she was connecting psychically with the cat, so I wanted to experiment with something different. Joe immediately connected with a man from the spirit world, but he didn’t explain who the man was. Joe was in a rush to go to a Little League game, and Melissa could hear his children running around screaming in the background. Everything was fairly rushed because Joe only had a few minutes to offer. Despite the chaos from which he worked, the information Joe gave Melissa was quite detailed.

Joe was shown by the spirit that Daisy was alive and located near two trailer homes and a slate-blue raised-ranch. He added that he saw something white in the front yard, and thought it might be a wishing well. He said this was located within a three-mile radius of the house. He added that he felt Daisy was lost and couldn’t find her way home. Then Joe had to go.

I was shocked at the detail Joe offered in only a few minutes. Melissa was frustrated that Joe didn’t have extra time to get more. After all, there are a lot of trailer homes in the Kennebunkport Beach area, and a three-mile radius is a humongous space to cover. We jumped in the car and started searching based on these new leads.

After a few hours of searching, Melissa and I found some places that sort of fit the description that Joe gave us, but not entirely. We called and called for Daisy without success. I finally had to go back to work, so Melissa continued the search with her sister, Deb.

One woman whom Melissa and Deb talked to recommended they check out a house where a lady lived who often takes in stray cats. The house was up the street from Melissa’s parents’ house. Shockingly, the stray-cat lady didn’t live in a house at all; she lived in a trailer home. In fact, it was next to another trailer home and a slate-blue raised-ranch. The only problem was that there wasn’t a white wishing well in the front yard; but there was a white electric water tank that was sitting in the driveway of one of the trailer homes. Was this the white thing that Joe saw? Who knows? Joe was in a rush. Mediums misinterpret stuff. It was white and it held water. Needless to say, Melissa and Deb were pumped with excitement at the matched details to Joe’s clues.

The stray-cat lady wasn’t aware of any new cats in the area. After calling and searching the woods around her property, Melissa and Deb came up with nothing but mosquito bites. In a weird coincidence, Deb’s daughter, Erin (our niece), called Melissa the next day to find out if Daisy had come home overnight. She asked Melissa if anyone had looked up by the trailer homes at the end of the street! Now, nobody had told Erin about what Joe said or where Deb and Melissa had looked the night before. It was summer vacation and Erin was sleeping over a friend’s house when Deb got home that night, so Deb didn’t get to tell her the story. Needless to say, since Melissa and I pay attention to coincidences like this, we rushed back to that area so I could give a few pints of my own blood to the mosquitoes. Regardless, once again, there was no sign of Daisy.

Melissa was getting as frustrated as she was defeated. Here we had asked three extraordinarily gifted psychic mediums to help us find a cat and they came up short. Plus, her prayers had gone unanswered. Melissa’s faith was being tested. We were both learning lessons.

On the eighth day that Daisy was missing, the stress was wearing on Melissa. She looked tired and she knew it. That evening was Vicki’s medium demonstration, and we needed to get dressed up and looking spiffy. Melissa decided she’d get a haircut to make her feel better. Unfortunately, she never got that haircut.

Melissa hadn’t left for the hairdressing salon more than ten minutes when she called me from her cellphone. She had found Daisy on the side of road, apparently killed by a car not far from her parents’ home. She didn’t want to see Daisy in that condition so she was coming home to pick me up. I would have to retrieve Daisy from the road.

I got a cardboard box, an old towel and a shovel (just in case Daisy was in bad shape) while I waited for Melissa to pick me up. Melissa, of course, was devastated and crying uncontrollably when she arrived. On the way to get Daisy, Melissa expressed how angry she was that Daisy was dead. She knew Daisy was hit overnight because Melissa had traveled that road the day before and would have seen Daisy if she were there. Melissa thought it was unfair that she had prayed so hard and that Daisy had to die when she was so close to home.

I asked Melissa if she was sure it was Daisy. She said she didn’t get a close look, but she just knew it was her. I felt so bad for Melissa, for Caroline, for Daisy. I tried to understand the lesson that this whole experience held for Melissa. I realized it was beyond my comprehension, but trusted there was some purpose to it. A friend recently told me that chalking things up to “a greater purpose” is the easy answer. I think it’s the hard one. It takes a lot of faith and trust to believe in it. When it comes to illness, death and suffering, the closer the person affected is to you, the harder that answer is to accept.

Daisy was in unusually good shape for a cat that had been hit by a car, notwithstanding the fact that she was dead. Only the left side of her head had been hit. Her body was quite stiff, so I knew she had been dead for quite some time. I picked up the poor girl, wrapped her in the towel and placed her body in the cardboard box I brought. Then I placed the box in our trunk.

When we arrived back at Melissa’s parents’ house, Melissa had stopped crying. Our niece, Erin, was at the house and she wanted to see Daisy. I was surprised because Melissa couldn’t even get herself to look at Daisy, and Erin was only fifteen years old. But Erin explained that she had seen a few dead cats in the past and it didn’t bother her. So I let her look at Daisy. Her first reaction was, “I don’t think that’s Daisy!”

“What, are you kidding me?” I asked.

“No. I’m pretty sure that’s not her, but I’m not positive” said Erin.

“For crying out loud, we have to get some pictures to know for sure,” I said.

The problem was that we didn’t spend much time with Daisy. Caroline and Daniel lived in Connecticut; we lived in Maine. So we looked for some pictures that Melissa’s father might have taken of Daisy. He’s a photography buff, so we knew he would have some. It turned out that he had about ten photos.

The next thing I know, I’m holding this board-stiff cat in the air, with Erin and I comparing it to the photos. You’d think it would be easy to match the cat to the photos, but you have to take into account that this cat was dead and had been hit by a car; it wasn’t the same as looking at a live cat. Erin and I found many markings that were close to identical, yet there were some differences as well. One big difference was that Daisy has some freckle-like spots on her nose. This cat’s nose didn’t have any spots. We wondered if the spots might have disappeared because the cat had died.

Erin suggested we make sure the cat was the correct sex. I just looked at her and laughed.

“Okay, we have to do what we have to do,” I admitted. Oops, another problem. The cat’s legs were too stiff to get apart.

“We’re going to have to ask a veterinarian to look at this cat,” I told Erin, “this is ridiculous.” Erin nodded with a grossed-out look on her face; I don’t think she was familiar with rigor mortis.

In the meantime, Melissa called her sister, Deb. Deb left work at lunchtime to come see the cat and help solve the mystery. She arrived with her friend, Hank.

Once again, I had to hold up the stiff cat—to the right, to the left and upside down—so Deb and Hank could compare it with the photographs of Daisy. Again we arrived at the same conclusion: it sure looks a lot like Daisy, but there are some minor markings that don’t appear to match. We admitted that we better let a veterinarian decide.

We brought the cat to the vet who charged us thirty bucks to tell us we had a neutered female. Daisy is also a neutered female, so that didn’t really help. I pointed out the freckles on Daisy’s nose in the photographs. The vet told me that such pigment would likely disappear upon death. He recognized some discrepancies between the photos of Daisy and the deceased cat, but found some distinct markings that were so similar that he was convinced the cat was Daisy. He told me, “I’m sorry, but that’s definitely your cat.” I left his office unconvinced.

Upon arriving back at Melissa’s parents’ house, I said to Melissa, “Look, you know Daisy better than anyone. Can you possibly get yourself to look at this cat?” She agreed that we had no other choice. Caroline and Daniel were not due home for days, so we couldn’t wait for them to identify her. We had to do something with this cat before it got nasty.

By this time it was three o’clock in the afternoon, about five hours since Melissa first found Daisy on the side of the road. I had to give a speech in front of almost two hundred people in four hours. And we still didn’t know for sure if this was Daisy or someone else’s cat. In three seconds flat, Melissa looked at the cat and said, “Oh, that’s definitely not Daisy.”

“Are you sure?” I asked—partly relieved, partly annoyed.

Melissa compared the photos to the cat that I—once again—had to hold, twist and turn while she inspected it. “I’m sure,” she said.

Okay. We finally put one problem to rest, but a new problem was born. If this isn’t Daisy, who’s cat is it?

After several phone calls to animal shelters, we found the name and phone number to a person we believed to be the owner. It was a nearby neighbor who lost a cat that fit the same description as Daisy. The cat had been missing for three weeks. After calling the woman on the phone, she told me she didn’t want to identify the cat in person. She preferred not to deal with it. She said it was easier to believe that her cat had gotten into someone’s car, as it would often do, and was now with a new family.

I buried the cat, made a nice little wooden cross and got ready for Vicki’s event. Needless to say, I was exhausted from the emotion of the day and didn’t present my best performance that evening. If Vicki noticed, and I’m sure she did, I hope she understands.

The next day, Saturday, we discovered a voice mail message from Vicki. On her way home from her demonstration the night before, Vicki and her family drove past Melissa’s parents’ house to look for Daisy. We were moved by their kindness. They saw three cats down the road from the house. Vicki called Daisy’s name and one of the cats—an orange and white tabby (Daisy’s colors)—started to come to her, but changed her mind and ran off with the other two cats. Vicki called to ask what Daisy looked like because we never told her Daisy’s colors.

Vicki also said that they saw the cats around mailbox number thirty-four on that road. Unbeknownst to Vicki, that was the location where the stray-cat lady lived in her trailer home by the slate-blue raised-ranch and the other trailer home with the white water tank in the driveway. Interestingly, we had never told Vicki about the messages Joe had given us.

Was this a coincidence or a divine clue? After everything Melissa and I have been through in the last few years—much of what is reported in this book—we rarely brush off anything as mere coincidence anymore. I believe that life’s synchronicities are little red flags waving for our attention.

Another search of the stray-cat lady’s property turned up nothing. This time we were with our other niece, Tatum (Erin’s younger sister). Me, Melissa and Tatum spent the best of that Saturday in the woods calling Daisy’s name. This time, we made sure to buy mosquito repellant (at least I learn from some of my mistakes). Melissa, being the most persistent person I have ever met, decided to call Joe again to book a thirty-minute reading with him. She figured if he got all those original details in only three minutes, he could probably get a lot more in thirty minutes. She left him a message on his answering machine hoping he would return her call soon.

Sunday morning, about thirty-six hours before Caroline and Daniel were due home, our friend John called us on the telephone. Since John is another extraordinarily gifted psychic medium, I told him the story and asked if there was anything he thought he could do. He explained that, for him, his gift doesn’t work in this way. But he asked to speak with Melissa.

John talked to Melissa and filled her heart with hope. Unlike most men from whom Melissa had received only negative messages without compassion, John instilled Melissa with thoughts that Daisy was alive and well and would be coming home safely. He offered these thoughts of comfort as a friend, not a medium. He told Melissa his efforts were better spent praying, and that he would do exactly that after hanging up the phone. Melissa hung up feeling comforted by John’s words. To me, it was a great lesson of how we don’t need to be extraordinarily gifted in order to be of service to our fellow man. John set his gift of spirit communication aside and helped Melissa with a gift that we all possess—love.

When Monday arrived, I wasn’t sure how Melissa would hold up. This was the day she would have to tell her sister that Daisy had been missing for eleven days. After working all day on OfSpirit.com’s magazine, we planned to make one final search before it got dark. Caroline would be calling around seven or eight o’clock that evening from her home in Connecticut to see how the cats were doing. She would arrive in Maine the following morning.

Before beginning our search, we stopped to feed the other cats at Melissa’s parents’ house. Every time we pulled into their long driveway, our hearts raced with anticipation that Daisy would be waiting by the door. Every morning and every evening for eleven days we were disappointed. This particular day was no different. As we drove into the driveway, there was no sign of Daisy.

I walked to the back of the house with equal anticipation. Even as I called Daisy’s name, I wondered why I bothered. I felt stupid calling her, but I couldn’t stop myself. I did it for Melissa and Caroline. So there I was again calling Daisy’s name on the night that Caroline was returning from Ireland.

“Daaaaaisyyyyyy,” I yelled, “Daaaisyyyy.”

My eyes darted around the edge of the back yard waiting for Daisy to come pouncing out of the woods.

Again, I yelled, “Daaaaisyyyy.”

Then I heard, “Meow.”

My heart jumped and I almost choked on it. I felt stupid again because I remembered there were three other cats there. Then it occurred to me that we stopped letting the other cats outside because it would have been much too difficult if Caroline’s other cat disappeared as well.

So I yelled again, sort of questioningly, “Daisy?”

And again, a response, “Meow.”

I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. I thought maybe one of the other cats was in the window. So I called her again, and the cat responded again. Suddenly, I looked down and Daisy was there! She came out from under the lawn chair, which was directly beside my feet. I couldn’t believe it. I burst out in excitement, “Daisy!” But my excitement must have scared her because she took off into the woods.

“Oh my God!” I thought to myself, “What did I do?”

I started yelling for Melissa. And she came bolting around the house and saw Daisy in the corner of the woods. When she went over to Daisy, the poor cat got scared again and ran deeper into the woods. Apparently she was spooked after being in survival mode for eleven days. Finally, after a lot of sweat and coaxing, Melissa got her in the house. The fiasco was over. And Caroline called minutes later. They just got home from Ireland.

“How are my babies?” Caroline asked.

“Oh they’re fine,” said Melissa, smiling at me when she said it, “everybody here is fine.” Then she told her the story. To my relief, Caroline said I did the right thing by not telling her about Daisy in the email or on the phone. It would have ruined her and Daniel’s vacation, she admitted.

The next day, Melissa called everyone to tell them the good news. When she talked to Joe, he had a confession to make. He didn’t call Melissa back to make the thirty-minute appointment because his guides told him not to call. He said it was very strange that they would tell him that. They said she had all the information she needed and that everything would be fine. He felt guilty not calling but trusted his guides.

What can we make of this story? First, I learned a lesson about trust. Melissa wasted a lot of energy and time, and caused herself a lot of stress due to her worrying. Even if Daisy had not come home, she needed to trust that there was a greater purpose behind what was happening that might be beyond her understanding.

Second, I learned a lesson about control. We cannot control the outcome of certain things, regardless of how much effort we make or how much we pray for a particular outcome. Does this mean we should not pray? Of course not. This means that we can pray once and trust that our prayer is heard. Think of a prayer as a phone call to God. How would you like it if someone called you several times a day, day after day for a week, to ask you the same favor? We must trust that our prayers are heard the first time and will be answered if they are meant to be.

Third, I believe there is a lesson about the purpose of mediumship here. Psychic mediums do not have their gift to help anyone choose the winning lottery numbers, to discover the cure for incurable diseases, or to locate anyone’s lost watch or missing cat. This does not mean that such messages are not possible—there are unique exceptions to every rule—but this is not the purpose for which mediums have been granted their gift. This I am sure. Otherwise, there would be a lot of Nobel Prize and lottery winning mediums out there; and, yet, I don’t think there is one.

With that said, I am aware of several readings that have provided messages concerning insight about the causes of health problems, warnings about people with ill intent, and other guidance that has proved extremely useful. Yet these are the minority. In most cases, the information received could have just as easily been obtained through one’s inner knowing—their intuition. Mediumship should never be used as a substitute for listening to one’s own gut instinct. Psychic mediums can prove to us that spiritual guidance exists. Then it is our job to learn how to tap into that guidance system on our own, and not become dependant upon mediums for this insight.

Perhaps asking about the purpose of a medium’s gift is parallel to asking about the purpose of an artist’s gift or a musician’s gift. Must they have a purposeful meaning, or is having the gift unquestioningly sufficient enough? Having the gift is probably enough; but since I’ve spent the last few years of my life researching this subject, I’m going to offer an educated guess on the key purpose of mediumship.

Based on my own experiences, I would say that the key purpose of mediumship is to convey one message to the world: “We don’t die!” Anything that a medium gives us above and beyond that message is simply a bonus.

As a general rule (which, like most rules, is occasionally broken), mediums do not provide us with profound wisdom from spiritual masters. That level of communication is more often associated with channeling (where spirits, usually enlightened masters, take over a person’s body to speak to us with a more direct channel). There are mediums who are also trance channelers, but that type of mediumship is less common. The most common mediumship provides messages from our deceased loved-ones; messages that bring us hope, peace, love and comfort from our grief. To me, these types of messages can be equally as valuable and powerful as wisdom from spiritual masters.

As I have mentioned elsewhere in this book, spirit communications conveyed through mediums often turn out sounding simple, silly or unconvincing to anyone other than the person who is receiving the messages. This is because the messages come through for one person at a time—the person who is getting the reading. For that one person, even the simplest or silliest message from their deceased loved-one can have a profound, philosophical and reflective meaning. But the reason this deeper meaning results is due to the fact that these simple and silly messages are evidence that we and our loved-ones “survive death.” Again, the message that “we don’t die” holds the key to life-changing effects when a person adopts it as truth, as a knowing.