I was fortunate to become aware of Mediums, Seers and Sensitives when I was very young, being attracted by their light.
It’s something that all children have, this innate knowing that someone either has “it,” or not.
If you’ve ever become aware of babes in their pushchairs giving you that special Look, you‘ll know exactly what I mean.
They’re checking you out. I remember doing much the same, myself.
Dogs and Cats also know these things.
In some ways, as each generation comes and goes, we leave much, of what I will call Earth Knowledge, behind. It’s instinctive, and it protects. I’m sad about that.
When I was a child I ran around in what seemed like a Garden Country. Sometimes, I was alone and happy enough as I looked about me and feeling closely connected to Mother Earth.
Sometimes, we ran in almost feral packs, responding to our collective consciousness this way and that; peering and seeing before swooping over paths almost hidden by hedgerows and wild plants but revealed to us by an innate navigation system.
In the same way, we instinctively knew when it was time to seek out berries and stems filled with succulent juices, when tiny creatures were at the point of being born, when we would discover something rather wonderful.
Whenever school ended, given the season and the weather, we’d be gathering like a gypsy tribe, following our own rules, and freed from the shackles that adults liked to place on us.
When danger threatened, as it sometimes did, when those best avoided crossed our paths most of us were protected by guardian angels, unless some of us were having a very bad day.
Nothing’s perfect but I remember enough of magic moments to recognise that the majority of us dwelled in The Kingdom of Childhood.
Every so often some of us became aware of other dwellers in other kingdoms, having extraordinary freedoms, philosophies, and knowledge.
For me these were epitomised by the Gypsies, the voices emanating out of the Wireless; and the Mediums.
I couldn’t have wished for better mentors.
The gypsies moved in mysterious ways, not always predictable; sometimes travelling on a whim but always reappearing when work like hop picking or potato gathering was on tap.
In the winter months they would be whittling branches into mock chrysanthemums, painting them in bright reds and yellows or making scraps of lace, unless they had managed to buy it, factory-made, to sell to the naïve.
And, then, there was the Fortune Telling, their annual calls to their customer bases.
I liked the Gypsy Woman who came to us, plying her trade. Sometimes my mother would invest two shillings in a having her cards read, which may have engaged my early interest in such things; and me, eavesdropping.
I read, in the kind of scientific article I much prefer (with a willingness to take on board such thing) that a child brought up in a dysfunctional household is more likely to develop our latent psychic gifts, than one reared in a conventional one.
I will vouch for that, because it was via my mother‘s emotional
Volatility, and her frequent visits to Mediums, that had me learning from them, for future reference: as I also learned from the Gypsies.
Many years later, when I was experiencing of those ’challenges’ that, every so often, emerge from the Grand Design of our Lives, it had been two very different ones (one, who’d crossed over a busy London Street; and another who was living in a caravan, parked outside my house, when I was living not far off from Appleby-in Westmorland, in the weeks of its Gypsy Fair) who had said, pretty much the same words: that I was repeating a lesson I should have, already, learned.
Quite right, too!
Sometimes, I think about my childhood and how I was allowed to run wild and free; and how beautiful was our countryside.
Right now, many of Us have other lessons to learn: and much of that is associated with protecting Mother Nature.
As well as recovering ancient wisdoms, in Its ways of Healing.
My father was one who had a natural instinct for how certain foods would bring relief from some minor ailments. I like to think that, somewhere along the ancestral line, there was Gypsy Blood.
And I’m honouring that, now.