Julie was conservatively dressed. She looked about 45 years old and had a lovely, soft voice. She told me that her mother passed away a year ago and she wanted to make sure she was okay. I surmised that they must have been close.
As I do with all my clients, I asked Julie to say her mother’s name three times.
“Deborah Ann Warren Clay” she said. I closed my eyes and focused. As a medium, I never know what to expect. It could be a symbol that appears, like a large tree that gives me the sense of the strength of a deceased person’s personality. Other times, I feel a rhythm, like very fast talking and I have a sense of their demeanor. Still other times, I start laughing as I feel a lighthearted comedian whose words tease my client until she laughs in recognition of his familiar humor. Rarely do I perceive a visual of an individual.
This time was the exception. When Julie said her mother’s name, the image of woman appeared in rather unexpected clothes: She was wearing leather…and seated happily on a motorcycle!
“Dear God,” I thought. “I can’t tell her what I’m looking at.” I was trying to remember if I had something odd for lunch that day that would put me so off the mark. I have a pretty good track record and this looked like a record breaker to me.
I waited. Maybe the image would change and I could tell Julie that her dear mother was wearing an apron and wanted to make her cookies. (that’s actually shown up before). But no. The image smiled brilliantly at me as her curly blonde hair waved like there was wind on The Other Side.
Dismayed as I imagined Julie running out of the office, hurt and indignant, I decided to tell her what I saw. But just then, Deborah said “Julie, you gotta’ ride like the wind. You gotta ride like the wind!” Holy cow.
I finally said, “Julie, fasten your seat belt, you may not like what I’m about to tell you, but I’m going to tell you exactly what I see and hear. So I did.
To my astonishment, Julie said, “That’s my mother! That’s exactly what she would say! If she wasn’t sick for so long, she would would have gotten on that motorcycle and ridden west!”
As Deborah continued to encourage her daughter to take risks and to be fearless in life, I repeated everything I heard. Julie walked out of my office a different person.
Weeks later, I ran into Tess who referred Julie and she told me how wonderful Julie felt these days. I said, “Oh yes, I loved her mother!” Tess looked at me and said, “Oh, you don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” I asked.
Deborah was bed ridden for eight years and Julie took care of her. She forgot that her mother was full of life. Now she remembers and every time I see her, she said “You gotta’ ride like the wind!”
Deborah made an impact on me too. I remember her fearlessness and her absolute conviction that every moment we have is precious and available for adventure.