Rogue Wood Supply

Becoming Psychic

book of mirrorsVanessa Kunderman1 Comment

I've always been afraid of the word psychic. Calling myself psychic seemed to walk the line of egotistical and crazy. And as a writer, I believe words have a lot of power. The word psychic was a dodgy one to add to the vocabulary, because psychic conjures up images of people sneaking around at night, booking psychics without telling their friends or family and putting all their faith and future in this mystic's hands. In reality, this couldn't be farther from what it means to be psychic in 2015.

Let's be clear: I never saw blue spirits coursing through the yard as a child. I never heard voices whispering to me right before bed and I could NEVER read the minds of someone else. So let's get that all out of the bed right now. But being psychic has a lot of confusion around it, and a lot of it is unnecessary.

I wasn't particularly magical when I was younger. I was raised Catholic, and I only kind of went to church when my mom was really insistent on it. I had my first tarot reading as a kid and though I barely remember it, I do remember my interest being piqued. I had my first reiki session as a teenager when I was first diagnosed with cancer, and I passed out from the treatment. I definitely remember that event, but even still, my mom tells me things about that treatment that I don't remember. It was pretty intense.

I was exposed to some spiritual things, but nothing major. It was only when I looked back on these experiences as an adult that I realized their significance to my spiritual searching and where it would take me. When my early twenties found me, I had already been through some shit. I had lost a parent to cancer, I had had cancer, and I was getting over a nasty break up. I was feeling ALL the feelings. I had just made a big career change, and was scheduled for a major surgery (I clearly do everything at once) that would have me off work for a bit. I woke up from surgery... and things were almost instantaneously different. I started to smell... strange things. Yes, I thought I was crazy, or that something happened to me in my surgery, or that I had some crazy brain tumour messing with my shit. I was smelling hair dye and perm rods when I was alone in my car, cinnamon while I was in elevators, and cigar smoke in my living room. I would ask everyone I was with if they smelled anything funky, and I was always alone with the strange smells. 

So many of us are surrounded by magical things and we don't even realize it because they're just "normal" to us. After my dad died, my mom started collecting all these angel-like things. Maybe we always had them... I don't even remember! They were just always there. A pair of stone angels in an embrace sat somewhere in our yard or near the entrance. More were sitting on the fireplace. MANY lived in my mom's room. I don't think it's a coincidence that these surrounded us when our home felt permanently dark with the loss of the strong father figure.

There was the amethyst tree in the living room... the falling sand painting in the hallway... there were all these things that - now - I would have walked through that home and have been like, "There are wizards living here."

What's funny, is I would say my coming out as an openly spiritual person has done wonders for my family. My sister used to never want to hear about the spirits I was working with because it freaked her out. Now she has crystals all over her home. My mother is the same. And my aunt and grandmother are even more into it.

I found some of my journals from when I was going through chemotherapy treatment in my teens, and sure enough, I wrote about always smelling mac-n-cheese on the hospital ward that I stayed on with all the other sick kids. All my nurses always assured me no one was eating KD, and no one was mysteriously cooking it on other floors (I actually made one nurse check), but I had just chalked up that strangeness to all the medication I was on.

Actually, I had uncovered a spiritual gift. Clairscent is one of the less sexy "clairs" of people tuned into these abilities. I had always had it, but for some reason, my surgery was the catalyst to force me to be aware of it. Maybe it wasn't the surgery - maybe it was everything that had happened or everything that was happening. Clairscent is smelling something in the spirit world, usually the presence of a spirit. Where, clairaudient and clairvoyant are perhaps more common, there are actually a ton of other "clairs" out there. And now, it's easy for me to tap into all those other clairs, because they're all connected.

As we grow, change, and experience other events, things that are "normal" to us - so normal we maybe don't realize they're happening, suddenly feel foreign. We're suddenly aware of them, like my being able to smell things that others couldn't.

We're all psychic. All of us. We all have these skills, some of us just hone them more than others. Think of it like a skill: maybe you and your friend were both athletic as kids, but you didn't pursue it like she did, and she's now a professional hockey player. Arguably, you may have been able to accomplish the same feats she did, but circumstance, skill, and other factors maybe kept you from it. It doesn't mean you couldn't have. 

I also have a theory that you need to really go through some shit before you're fully attuned. We all experience tragedy at different times and varying degrees, (not everyone needs to go through cancer) but every tragedy or jarring transformation/change has the ability to shape us and teach us. I believe our spirits have chosen our lessons before we come into this human existence, and once we begin to fulfill some of those lessons, we become closer to our higher spirit selves, slowly revealing our true nature and our spiritual gifts. We begin to grow into who we're meant to be.

I have known a lot of psychics who had lead seemingly charmed lives on the outside, but their inside worlds have been full of turmoil, depression or self doubt. Lessons and tragedies come in many colours, and no one person experiences something worse than the other. I learned this lesson at 16, when all my girlfriends were calling me and crying about guy problems. I would get so mad because there I was with a chemotherapy drip in my veins feeling utterly terrible. I hated my friends whining about boys while I was dying! But those breakups were just as heart wrenching to my friends as cancer was to me. They had never experienced cancer. The breakup was the worst thing that had happened to them.

When a newborn stubs his toe for the first time, that is the worst pain he has ever felt. It is unbearable because he doesn't know any other pain. He has never experienced pain. Imagine pain for the first time? How confusing and unbearable! This is how I view the lessons that everyone else must experience. Not everyone gets cancer, but everyone gets something.

The word psychic shouldn't be shrouded in mysticism. Modern psychics are trying to show the world that we are normal people with a sensitivity to the others around us. We pick up on the signals and energy of everything that interacts with us when most people ignore it. We have learned the messages nature and our bodies leave us, and we know how to listen to our intuition. Everyone gets these flashes, but open psychics recognize those moments and know how to act on them. I wear Joe Fresh like it's going out of style, and I love red wine. I don't hover over a crystal ball in my cloaks and braids. When three birds fly into my window? I pay attention to it. When you learn to connect with this energy/vibration/feeling, its just like flexing a muscle. Once you've trained your legs how to squat, the squatting gets easier, and your muscles become more sculpted.

So yeah, your boss might totally be psychic - your kid's babysitter, or your best friend. Psychics are all around us. Even YOU'RE psychic.