My Life As a Medium

by Betty Shine

  When I explained that mind energy can reduce to the size of a pin-head, or expand ad infinitum, and that there are many Universes, a look of amazement passed over his face as he tried to take it in. ‘Crikey,’ he said, ‘I’ve never thought of it like that.’

  I also told him that there were worlds within worlds, and that people were being reincarnated every second.

  He scratched his head. ‘Now you’ve lost me.’

  ‘Well, you see, it’s all about progression, and what we wish to achieve in other lives.’

  ‘Sounds like a bloody lot of hard work to me,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d done my bit here.’

  When I had stopped laughing, I said, ‘I must admit, it is difficult to take in all at once.’ As soon as I’d finished my sentence, I heard a voice say, ‘I want to speak to my brother Tom. My name is Edie.’ Fortunately, Tom knew that I was a medium, so I was able to pass the message on to him.

  He sat bolt upright, ‘Do you know, I’ve been waiting for weeks for you to give me a message. Well I never, my sister Edie. I can’t believe it.’ He told me that Edie was only twenty when she died.

  ‘She’s telling me that Marge and Joe would like to speak to you too, so we’d better get on with it.’

  What followed was quite incredible. At least twenty people were mentioned, and about ten of them gave me personal messages – which were extremely evidential – to pass on to Tom. I was thrilled for him.

  When it was time for him to leave, he said, ‘That was the only way you could have convinced me that there is life after death.’ He was a very happy man, and the reunion with his family and friends gave him a new lease of life.

  I firmly believe that mediumship and the afterlife should be spoken about more openly on the radio and television. There are thousands of elderly people who so fear dying that it takes away the joy of living. They are also afraid to mention the possibility of life after death for fear of being subjected to ridicule.

  The mediums in this country are much sought after world-wide, and yet the media still ignore this very considerable talent. Whilst this state of affairs continues, the older members of our communities are living in fear of the unknown, and are not receiving any kind of help.

  The waste of their talent also angers me. I have been fascinated by so many life histories and by the variety of jobs that these elderly people have had during their lives, by the stories of their apprenticeships and the pride in their craft. Because of modern technology, many of them lost their jobs long before retirement age. The irony of this is that when that technology fails, for whatever reason, it is these same men and women who are called upon to save the situation. Surely it would be more sensible to give these craftsmen a part-time job teaching youngsters the basics, for no matter how advanced technology may become, we do still have things like power cuts, and machines do regularly break down.

  One example of this is the computer industry. Seeking help from a variety of establishments, I am constantly being told that the computers have gone down and the staff are unable to help until they are restored.

  Time and time again I have watched the humiliation of a young salesperson when they have found that the battery of their calculator is dead and they are unable to do simple mental arithmetic.

  I am sure my readers have a thousand and one examples of the mindless way that some of our industries are run, and how they could all be improved by having wiser and older men and women passing on their wisdom and craft to the younger generation. The waste of their knowledge is criminal, and the nation is the worse off because of it.

  This does not and could not happen in mediumship, for we are entirely dependent on our spiritual teachers for the knowledge and fine-tuning of our talents.

  I get very angry indeed when I am made aware of the terrible injustices in the world today, and the way people treat each other. Any kind of softness is so often taken for weakness, and those who were born to love and give are usually used and abused. I have seen so many people born with a loving nature, subjected to abuse because of that nature. They gradually become brutalized, and try to change their personality, to toughen themselves – and this is the key to why so many are suffering mental distress. Children – especially boys – who have a gentle nature, are ostracized and tormented by bullies who in turn have been brutalized by being subjected to violence in addition to the cruelty often depicted on many television channels. I have spoken to hundreds of these children, and in many cases have only been able to bring about a successful healing by asking their parents to screen their children’s programmes.

  It can be extremely difficult for the parents because over the years, the gentle family comedies – which we can all appreciate – have been replaced by a modern concept of comedy. It may be fashionable, but it is very often distasteful and cruel.

  Young people look for role models, and if they happen to choose the wrong one, they may turn into offenders against society. This is sad. I have dealt with many of these youngsters and have found that there is still a child waiting to get out and enjoy the life that they are entitled to have.

  I believe that the way to keep children healthy and happy is to keep them active. Children sit down for hours in school, and when they get home they either do their homework or watch television. If only they could be taken to a leisure centre or pool for just half-an-hour when they leave school, we would have a healthier community.

  The majority of parents obviously want the best for their offspring, but there are many who simply do not think about their physical and mental health. The child is part of a family, and must live as the rest of the family lives. But every human being is unique, and needs nurturing – not necessarily in the same way as everyone else. If only a fraction of time could be given to each individual, for their particular needs, then young people would be made to feel ‘special’. When they have that feeling, they are able to accomplish so much more in life.

  I am a parent myself, and I think it is the most difficult job on earth. Our offspring are with us night and day for what seems to be an eternity, and even though there are times when we’d like to send them to the far corners of the earth, we can’t stop loving them, and always want the very best for them. When they eventually leave home we miss them, and worry about how they are going to manage by themselves.

  Not so long ago, all parents had to worry about was whether their children were going to get pregnant or smoke. Now, they have to worry about gluesniffing, fast cars, Aids, and a variety of mind-blowing drugs as well. The thought that their child might be harmed is forever in the mind of a parent when their teenage children are out late. This is not because they are being over-dramatic; it is happening with everincreasing frequency. The list of dangers is endless.

  When these dangers can seem too great to be coped with by an individual family, they may be able to do some small things to help, such as taking their children to Judo or karate classes. This would teach them self-defence, and possibly help teach them some spiritual values too. And it would help cut down their television viewing time!

  I have included these remarks in this chapter because I have seen what can happen, and have been broken-hearted by the waste of such young and beautiful lives.

  In many countries throughout the world there are still storytellers who move from village to village, entrancing the children with their stories. These people are natural philosophers, and teach the children how to be successful within their own society.

  We all need to listen more, especially to those people who have something worthwhile to say. It is only when we have lived to more than half of our life-span that we acknowledge that we do not, and never will, know it all.

  I remember giving survival evidence to a man in his fifties, whose mother came through and chided him as though he was still a child. We both saw the funny side of it, but were impressed by what she had to say.

  ‘You were always headstrong,’ she told him, ‘and you haven’t changed at all. I’ve been watching you.�
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  At this point her son interrupted, saying jokingly, ‘I hope not.’

  Mum continued. ‘You never look before you leap, and you’re doing it again. I’ve come to tell you to stop before it’s too late.’ There was a pause. ‘You know what I’m talking about, and I don’t hold with it.’

  ‘Do you know what she’s talking about?’ her son asked me.

  ‘Yes, you’re thinking of leaving your young family.’

  ‘My God!’ he said, ‘you’re all in it!’

  His mother then told him a few more home truths and left. The man turned to me and said, ‘That woman could always read me like a book, and yes, I am thinking of leaving home.’ He went on to tell me of the problems he was having with his wife.

  I urged him to give it more time. ‘I think your mother may know something that you don’t. You are obviously headstrong. Perhaps you should listen to her advice.’

  We talked for some time, then he left.

  I saw him again later that year, and he told me that he had been able to patch up the differences he’d been having with his wife. The family had stayed together.

  ‘My mother always was a wise old bird,’ he said.

  When I was young, we were taught to respect our elders. It seems that there is very little respect these days, and yet it is the young who are missing out, for they could learn so much from the older generation. Let’s face it, who do they run to when they are in trouble? It is usually their parents, but when they’ve been sorted out, they are off again, paying no heed to the good advice they have been given. This is the lack of respect about which I am writing.

  Like so many people in this life, they have not learned that very valuable lesson, and one which could save them from many moments of anguish. The ability to listen.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  My daughter Janet was very concerned about my living alone since the separation with her father, and she presented me with a beautiful tortoiseshell cat. I named her Sally.

  I had lost my previous cat, Sadie, when I left Spain, and this had broken my heart. I was not particularly keen to acquire another, but when I saw Sally it was love at first sight. She was so beautiful. Alas, her beauty belied her nature, and from the moment this tiny kitten entered my home all hell was let loose. As one patient put it, as Sally flew from one armchair to another in the waiting room, ‘That thing is a cat from hell’. Well! He obviously did not like cats, but she was a menace.

  Nothing escaped her teeth and claws, not even my hands. She found my new carpets irresistible, and she tore at them. My furniture was given the same treatment. She walked precariously in between my ornaments, and I watched in horror as she defied me to remove her, staring at me with a look that said, ‘Touch me and I’ll break the lot.’

  I longed for the day when the necessary vaccinations had been given and I could let her out into the garden. But when that day finally arrived, she proceeded to attack all the birds. Fortunately, I was able to throw the birdseed out of my bedroom window to a ledge she could not reach – though not for want of trying. I found her one day, hanging upside down on the windowsill, daring the birds to take the food. However, she had enough sense not to let go, as she would surely have been maimed if she had dropped from that height.

  Why am I writing about my cat in a book on mediumship? I will tell you. On looking into the hall one day from my bedroom, I saw Sally, back arched, leaping around a specific spot. I walked into the hall and saw a spirit entity. It was a man, holding a stick of some kind. As it was transparent and not a full materialization it was very difficult for me to take in any detail, and it disappeared before I received any message. But it was obvious from Sally’s actions that she could see it too.

  Every other animal I had known had always backed off from any kind of unusual energy. But not Sally! She had been poised for attack, and had been quite prepared to take on the intruder. I found it quite laughable, and it was this ‘have a go’ streak in her that eventually won me over. She confronted spirit entities on a day-to-day basis.

  Sometimes she would prepare for attack in a crouching position, or leap into the air trying to touch the spirit, and there were times when she stayed in the air so long I thought she had levitated. There were also occasions when she would freeze, and stare into space, looking at something I was unable to see. I often wondered what it was that she found so worthy of her time, and then one day I was given the answer.

  I had been sitting on the stairs in the large hall, observing one of Sally’s staring periods, when, as quick as lightning, a black cat ran past me and down the long corridor that led to the bathroom. Thinking that it was a live cat, I ran after it, knowing it could not get away as the bathroom door was always kept closed, and it would be trapped. But when I reached the end of the corridor there was nothing there. It had disappeared. I walked back into the hall and Sally leapt toward me, playing in her most seductive, kittenish manner. She was, for the moment, quite normal. As I stroked her, I realized that the reason she was never afraid of spirits was that she had her own spirit world, and the staring episodes were an obvious fascination with the spirit world of cats. Maybe some of her past friends were visiting her. Who knows? She certainly held court often enough.

  I felt that Sally had been sent to protect me, and this was confirmed one day when I was carrying out an exorcism. I never enjoyed this experience, but, from the time my patient appeared, Sally flew around the hall, hissing and clawing the air. She was obviously distressed. As soon as the exorcism had been completed, she was calm again, a good indication that her protective instinct was intact.

  On another occasion, I had just shown a lady into my waiting room when Sally walked in. As soon as she saw the woman, she jumped on to the top of one of the armchairs and proceeded to leap from chair to chair and along the back of the couch where my patient was sitting. The lady assured me that she was not frightened, but I still removed Sally from the room. I did not trust her. It was only when I began healing that I realized that the woman was suffering from severe mental stress, and the unusual energies that surround people in that state had disturbed Sally so much that she had tried to frighten my patient away.

  I had seen the same behaviour pattern with Smokey, a small bitch I had once owned. A friend of my husband had decided to pay us a visit. Unbeknown to me, his wife suffered from deep depression and had been in and out of mental hospitals for some time. When the introductions had been made, I prepared some snacks and we all sat at the kitchen table. We had been talking for about thirty minutes when Smokey ran in from the garden and jumped on my lap. Smokey’s hair stood on end as she came face to face with my lady visitor across the table, she bared her teeth, and tried to attack her. Fortunately, with the table between us, I managed to grab her and locked her away in another room until they left, but we were all shaken by this totally unexpected event. It was quite obvious that the dog had linked into the disturbed nature of my visitor, and had been affected by it.

  Smokey was the first bitch I had ever owned, and I loved her dearly. Although ninety-nine per cent of the time she was a lovely family dog, she did have one particular hate. As a young puppy she had managed to jump over the gate in the front garden, and had dashed around with glee on the pavement, enjoying her moments of freedom. Unfortunately an old man was passing at the time and, irritated with the animal’s behaviour, he hit out at her with a stick. When I picked her up she was in considerable pain and was whimpering. I took her to the vet, who told me that she was quite bruised, but would be all right, and after a week’s pampering she was her old self again. Or was she? She may have recovered physically, but not mentally for, whenever she saw an old man with a stick, she would fly at him. When we took her for walks we would scan the horizon, and if we saw an old man carrying a stick, we put her on the lead. The extraordinary thing was that she did not attack young men with sticks, so how could she differentiate, especially at long distances? It remained a mystery until I discovered and studied ‘mind energy’ decad
es later, and realized that the mind energy, especially in animals, is always way ahead of the physical. Smokey was able to detect her enemy before he had even come into sight.

  Smokey scaled the fence one day while she was on heat and, following this escapade, I was faced with a lovely golden retriever lying on the doormat in the porch every time I opened the door. Smokey was pregnant now, and I had to assume that this was the father. I was advised by friends not to feed him as this would discourage him from returning home. It did not work however, and so after two days I gave in and offered him food. He refused it, much to my amazement, and only condescended to drink a little water from the bowl I had placed before him. When he was still there after three days I became extremely anxious, and decided to call the police. They told me that they would take him to the dog pound. I was adamant that they should not have him put down if he was not claimed; I would find a home for him myself. Fortunately, his owner claimed him and the police kindly gave him my address. He called to see me and, after I had told him the story, he agreed that his dog should be controlled for its own safety. After all, he had crossed many main roads to get to my house, and could easily have been killed. The owner explained that the dog had crawled through a hole in the garden fence. All was well until Smokey had her litter; on that same morning I opened the door to find the same dog lying in the porch, with the largest bone I had ever seen. The frantic owner called an hour later, and told me that his dog had been in a terrible state, pacing back and forth all night; exasperated, he had let him out into the garden at four o’clock in the morning. When he called him thirty minutes later, the dog had gone, having gnawed his way through the fence.

  I have studied energies for so long that I can now make sense of many things that had happened in my life. To those people who repeatedly tell us that there is no such thing as a mind that is separate from the brain, and outside of the body, all I can say, is let them explain away these stories. That dog lived three miles from my home; he knew the day and the time that Smokey was giving birth, and was there for her as soon as she had produced the litter. He would have made a devoted father and I would have loved to give him a home, but he already had loving owners, and they would never have parted with him. Something that has always puzzled me. Where did he get such a huge bone at that time of the morning?