There’s a balance to being Empath who has psychic experiences and yet tries to be remain objective to what is going on.
To say that I’ve had more than my share of interesting experiences would not be an exaggeration. To say that many of these could not be explained away somehow would also be correct.
Some of them can’t. Some things that happened would require either a shared delusion, or timing and circumstances so contrives that it would make the most blatant Hollywood blockbuster script look disjointed by comparison.
I suppose it would be easy to ignore everything that doesn’t fit, but I also feel that would be doing myself a great disservice.
For instance, if someone tells me about having the same types of experiences as me, I need to consider if they had them before they met me or read any of my works, or if they arrived at the same types of conclusions independently.
Fact is: We, as humans, have a tendency to make stuff up, or change the facts ever so slightly to make it fit our stories.
I noticed this in my mother from a young age. She would adapt her stories and just put a small little twist into things to completely change the meaning.
She would tell you about her own psychic experiences, but only after she got your version. Then, mysteriously, it would match.
Or she would have the answers to puzzles that she claimed she already knew, but only after she was told the answers.
I never called her on these things, and really, I didn’t see the point to doing so, but it did make me very much aware of just how easy it was to make something into whatever you wanted it to be.
I do a lot of research and listen to sceptical podcasts because I learn a lot from them. (Plus, I find their observations hysterical at times because they are true.)
Problem is that it’s at the other extreme of the spectrum.
Where the true believer seems to accept everything they are told, the sceptic seems to refute anything they are told.
There just doesn’t seem to be a balance.
We need to be able to think critically about things. If something doesn’t seem to fit, look closer at it. It may not appear to fit because it does not fit.
Next: Fact or Fiction.
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Many Light-workers consider themselves as spiritual warriors. They see the darkness, they spot the enemy, charge in with their shield and sword, strike it down, and the day is saved.
The enemy is vanquished by taking a stand and defeating the darkness, hopefully for good.
The day is saved and all is well.
Right?
Wrong!
In actual fact, attacking what we perceive to be evil, dark, and negative is possibly the worst thing you can do.
In fact, all you are doing is empowering and enabling those things.
It’s like fighting a fire by throwing fuel on it and then wondering why it’s growing stronger, rather than going out.
It is also the very opposite of what a Light-worker actually does and what they stand for.
You cannot change the energy of something by feeding it the same thing it feeds on. You have to introduce something else.
As mentioned, I spent a good part of my life under psychic attacks, and up to the age of 20, I was fighting a daily, but losing battle.
At the time, it didn’t really occur to me that this wasn’t normal. It was just something I just had to put up with in my everyday life.
I’ve faced down a lot of attacks over the years, but this type of attack was different to the ones that came later.
It’s hard to describe what it was like. Best I can do was that it was an overwhelming, clawing sensation in my mind. The pain was more mental and psychic, than physical, but it was there, it was strong, and it was unmistakable. I felt that if I gave in, I would lose myself, or possibly go mad. (It was only many, many years later that I understood what was actually going on there.)
I didn’t tell many people about it, but those I did pretty much told me that it was the devil trying to take my soul, and that I needed to resist and ask God for help.
It was actually pretty useless advice, because it only helped in the moment, and the moment I took my focus away from asking for help, the attacks would return just as strong.
But I had nothing else to go on. There was no information out there, and even those who were supposed to be psychic and knowledgeable were completely clueless.
So for many years, I was determined to beat old Satan, and I would ceaseless fight him, and attack back, while avoiding any references to his name, lest it draw him and give him power.
Needless to say, the battle did not go well.
It was a silent, private, daily battle that I was surely losing. Yet the thought of giving in or even losing was, to me, unthinkable.
Each day, little by little, the attack would become stronger and I knew something would have to give, though I did not know what would happen to me if I gave in.
Then, one day, in 1984, I was at lunch when I suddenly found myself reasoning that I had spent years fighting this thing, with no success, and it appeared that my hate and anger was making it stronger. If that was the case, then maybe sending it love and peace would help.
So I sent out a message that whatever was attacking me could join me, as long as it was in in peace and harmony. I also sent it thoughts of love instead of anger.
It was in that instant, the attacks ceased completely. It was as though someone had flicked a switch. They say that what you resist persists, and what you make your own disappears, and this was certainly the case here.
My life changed from that day onwards.
The biggest lesson, which I carry with me to this day, was that the only way to overcome such attacks is to not engage them and be of a higher and loving energy.
Bless them, send them love and light. Give them peaceful thoughts. Be compassionate because those who are attacking know not what they do.
Over the years, I’ve come across many attacks: Some on me and some on others. The ones on me have been more a nuisance factor than any series danger or problem. I’ve always come out of it better and stronger for it. (Though, to be fair, there were some close calls, but the answer was always given to me on how to overcome them, which may not have been the case if I had just attacked back.)
What has amazed me is that nearly every time I come across someone under attack, their method of dealing with it is to attack back, and with as much hatred and force as they can muster. They also tend to pull the ‘victim / poor me’ card, which also doesn’t help anything.
Psychic attacks do happen, and there are a number of ways to counter them, but never, EVER, attack back. Never give the source any more energy to attack you with.
This particular topic might well come across as controversial, (though, by now, you’ve probably come to expect that from me) but those who have experienced it will tell you that they are real, and those who haven’t will more than likely scoff.
The subject is psychic attacks, and, like Empaths, sounds like something lifted out of either fantasy, or the horror genre.
However, let me assure you that they are real.
But what is a psychic attack?
In a nutshell, it’s an attack on a psychic level that attacks your weakest points. Supposing, for instance, you feel guilty about some action you have taken, the psychic attack will magnify that feeling to the point where you will bring your life to a standstill.
The key to stopping the attack is identifying the source, and the source can either be human, or something on the astral levels.
If the source is human, it’s often done with deliberation. As surprising as it may seem, the attacker knows exactly what they are doing, and they are doing it maliciously.
Due to the work that I do, and the reasons I am here, I’ve made some people rather upset, and I have certainly experienced attacks on me. These entries will not be about those attacks, though.
On the astral levels, the kind of beings that attack you may be negative entities that sees you as a threat, or negative astral beings that uses the negative energy generated to feed themselves.
This is a topic that all Empaths, and especially those who consider themselves Light-workers, should be aware of.
Psychic attacks lead to energy drains, depression, exhaustion, and a sense of hopelessness that there is no point to anything.
Do not be spooked by them, though. As devastating as they can be, and as scary as they sound, they can be dealt with, and they are also amazing opportunities for growth and identifying your weak spots that you may wish to work on.
This series will take a look at what types of attacks there are and what you can do about them.
I’ve discussed two incidences where songs I remember were never produced in the way I remember them to be.
Now, it is reasonable to put such things down to faulty memories, and let’s face it, who hasn’t mis-remembered something they swore they knew happened?
However, this particular incident is very hard to explain away.
There’s this rather famous book by Joan Lindsay called Picnic at Hanging Rock. It’s about the disappearance of three girls back in Woodend, Victoria, Australia, back in the early 1900s. During the 70s, it was made into a movie.
Hanging Rock is a real place near Woodend, and is a tourist destination. It is a large rock, which can be climbed and explored.
I used to go there a lot during the late 80s and early 90s and it’s fair to say I’ve had my fair share of unusual experiences there.
I would usually go at night with my best friend at the time, Paul. Like me, he had a fascination for unusual places.
Hanging Rock had two main roads on each side of it. Both continued straight from the highway to the dirt roads on the other side.
Me and Paul would go up there at night: Sometimes by ourselves, sometimes with friends.
One night we drove there and the trip was uneventful as it normally was. It wasn’t until we started to drive up the road leading to Hanging Rock that I began to feel that something wasn’t quite right. Something about the road didn’t seem to be real and I commented on it. Paul felt it as well.
The night was mild, the moon was waning, but it still shone plenty of light.
There are huge steel gates that allow entry to the park where Hanging Rock is, and you can’t really miss them, but somehow we did.
We kept on driving and soon came across a dirt road instead of the sealed one we were driving on. It took me by surprise since I had come a lot further than I thought I had. In fact, I went straight through a give way sign.
“Oh well done,” said Paul, “But, I suppose it’s late.”
“I didn’t think that we’d come this far,” I said. “Did we pass the gates?”
“We have, but I didn’t see them. Nor did I see the sign saying 100 meters to Hanging Rock. This is the dirt track that I once went up with some other friends. We went up it three time and we still couldn’t find the gates.”
We drove on for a bit and I decided to turn back since the road didn’t seem to be going anywhere of interest and Paul was feeling a bit uneasy about continuing. Instead we decided to go back and find the gates.
And find them, we did as we went back down the road. They were closed. Sometimes they were left open, and we’d go in and climb the rock. (Even if it was at night.)
Paul suggested we check the other side to see if the gates were open there, and I agreed, so we did. However, there was something totally wrong about the road.
“This is a dirt track. It should be a sealed road,” I said.
“I know, go on,” replied Paul, rather calmly. “Continue up it.”
I saw the sign that said Hanging Rock Tourist Road, and soon after we came across the gates on the other side. They were also closed.
As I continued down the road that led from the gate back to Woodend, I saw a car coming towards us in the distance. It then turned and disappeared. About 30 seconds or so, later, I got the where the car had turned. Now I had been up that road many times. It’s a straight road with barely any turn-offs. Paul, who was far more familiar with the layout of the area also knew that, too.
“Left turn, Gary,” he said.
I stared incredulously at the road. “There is no ‘T’ intersection on this road,” I stated.
“I know,” he simply said.
“So why is there one now? And what road was the car on that was coming towards us?”
Paul had no answers, but he was unnervingly calm about it, too. Mind you, from his own stories, this was not the first time something like this had happened to him.
I turned to the left and the soon made a right hand turn and found myself on the proper road again.
This road had appeared out of nowhere. It didn’t look new, and even if it was, it had been put there in a matter of weeks. If you know anything about Victorian roads, it takes months, or even years for anything to be completed.
Somehow, the layout of the area had changed around us.
What was even more interesting was when I asked friends who were familiar with the area about that road; they would describe the T intersection. They didn’t remember the road being straight.
There are some things you just can’t explain away with logic.
So, I decided to go looking for a music video that I had seen back around the year 2000, that I wanted to see again. While YouTube certainly has many detractors, one can’t deny that it’s a wonderful source for finding those obscure and lost songs you thought you’d never hear again.
When it was released, I saw it while I was waiting in the waiting room of the doctor’s office where the television was showing the top 40. Video was average, but I liked it.
So much so, that the next week, I was back in the same place, same time and I waited for the video to be shown, and it was. So I watched it and enjoyed it and Say My Name was firmly cemented in my mind.
But wait a minute, Gary, you might be thinking. Destiny’s Child sang Say My Name, not the Spice Girls. You must be mistaken.
And normally I’d agree with you. However, when it comes to music, which was an obsession of mine, I do tend to remember songs pretty clearly. I associate memories and feelings with songs. Every other memory I have of music videos and songs is accurate.
When I heard Destiny’s Child’s version of Say My Name, I thought to myself that I liked Spice Girl’s better. They somehow had put more into it. I also assumed that The Spice Girls had done a cover version, as it was clear that the song was attributed to Destiny’s Child.
So, as I was watching something on YouTube, Beyoncé was mentioned, which reminded me of the video I liked, and so I did a search for it… and came up empty.
No problem, I thought, though I did have a sinking feeling that something wasn’t right. So, I searched every possible way to try and find even a mention or vague reference to it. There was nothing. I checked out the official video by Destiny’s Child, but that was nothing like the one I saw, and of course, didn’t sound like the version I remembered either, plus I was certainly I had not seen that video before either.
I know my memory isn’t that bad when it comes to music. I can remember words and songs from when I was a very young age, and should I look them up, I find I remember them almost verbatim.
Upon further investigation, I found the song Holler, which contains that video, but the music is different.
In fact, I do not recall ever hearing that song before.
I mused that maybe both videos followed each other, but the release timing seems to be out for that, at least for two weeks in a row.
As a one off situation, I would put this down to faulty memory.
But… is it a faulty memory or something more? I’m prepared to say, yeah, faulty memory, but then, there were other incidences in my life that make me wonder… and that leads to some intriguing stories.
Those will be explored next time.
Next: Memories of something that didn’t happen.
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For an empath, I’ve had surprisingly few supernatural experiences and most of them occurred during my younger years.
By supernatural, I’m talking seeing things and hearing things and things that are just unexplained.
I do wish, however, to make the distinction from my empathic experiences, as they are countless, and also any mind travels that I’ve experienced. (What might be termed as remote viewing.)
There are four main paranormal incidences that come to mind.
The first was waking up on two separate nights, and hearing footsteps walking up and down the hallway outside my bedroom. I would have been around 7 or 8 years of age. Everyone was asleep, and even if they were up, they would not have continued for what seemed like hours.
I didn’t have the courage to get up and look, and really, even today, I wonder if I would be happy doing so, but there were footsteps, of that I have no doubt.
The second one occurred also twice, and around the same age. I woke up in the middle of the night, and on the wall across my bed was a perfectly round light about 3 inches in diameter. It had no apparent source, and kept on moving around on the wall. It stayed mostly in the one spot.
If it had been someone shining a torch into my room, I would have to question as to why they’d bother doing it for hours, how they could get the angle from a ten foot drop, and why there was no beam of light connecting to it.
I don’t remember what I did the first time, but I eventually fell back asleep. When it happened a second time, I hid under the bed covers.
As an interesting side note, a lady once slept in that room, and she woke up hearing her name called, and the word ‘ouch’. There was a light on her finger, and it left a burn. (At least according to her.)
From time to time, I would sense something negative in that room, even after I changed to another bedroom, however nothing major occurred.
The third incident was extremely minor. I had set up a film projector up in the lounge room and somehow it managed to turn itself on. That was an one off event.
I wasn’t the only one who experienced things in my mother’s house. My mother once saw a hooded figure staring at her upon waking up in the middle of the night and then walking backwards through the wall. I was a baby at the time. This same figure had been seen by my step daughter many years later. I never caught sight of it myself.
The last one happened when I lived in my grandmother’s house when I lived in Holland for half a year. I was nine, and one night, I woke up when everyone had gone to bed. Downstairs, I could hear a song playing which sounded vaguely like the Everly Brothers’ song Dream. Except it just repeating what sounded like a couple of lines, and it continued on for many hours until I fell asleep again.
While none of these experiences really scared me, I can’t say they made me comfortable either. As I few older, and into who I was, such things stopped happening, and I had the odd impression that it was avoiding me. At least for the most part.
Does anyone have similar experiences they’d like to share?
There’s a balance to being Empath who has psychic experiences and yet tries to be remain objective to what is going on.
