Superstitious? Yeah…I am

ImageI know it sounds crazy and perhaps improbable but I think I have a clairvoyant side.  I’m serious.  Or I have an inflated view of my natural instincts and am prone to reading more into simple details than I should.  Who knows?  A slightly clairvoyant bent sounds better and… it’s my blog so we’ll go with it.

A clairvoyant is defined as someone who may have a perception of events from the past, or they may have a precognitive ability to “see” events in the future or an ability to communicate with the dead.  As with everything in life, I strongly believe in varying degrees of skill.  While someone may be a master, others may possess strength in one area and not at all in the others.  Or… they may have the tiniest glimmer of “just knowing” like myself.  Confusing, right?  I’ll try to explain my take on my supposed claim.

I can’t tell the future or read into past events, nor can I commune with the dead. However, I feel a “heightened awareness” occasionally that I can’t deny feels symbolic and powerful.  Crazy?  Perhaps.

If I were to have a medium, it would be music.  Music is and always has been very important to me.  I particularly love beautiful melodies teamed with well crafted lyrics.  Elvis Costello may not be much to look at, but damn, he is an amazing writer.  “History repeats the old conceits, the glib replies the same defeats, keep your finger on important issues with crocodile tears and a pocket full of tissues” (Beyond Belief, Elvis Costello).  Another is Van Morrison.  When my father died we played “Into the Mystic” at his Memorial service.  How poignant the lyric “let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic” sounded.  

My father liked that song.  I don’t know that he would have considered it an anthem of sorts for his life, but he would have appreciated the Celtic melody and the lovely words calling him home.  He had a poet’s soul.  He would have known.  A couple of months after he passed, we were in the lobby of a hotel having a drink before we headed over to see a play nearby.  My husband and I are season ticket holders but we hadn’t been to the venue since my father’s death.  And the previous time we’d been was with him.  Some time had passed so I wasn’t overly emotional.  I still felt his loss keenly, but it was easing a bit.  We walked from the bar through a hotel corridor to get to the theater beyond and guess what was playing on the lobby speakers?  “Into the Mystic”… No lyrics, just music.  

It may be nothing but coincidence.  I may be guilty of placing significance where none was meant.   I understand.  However, I chose to believe it was something.  Something very special.  A warm embrace from beyond in a non-threatening, non-scary way.  My father’s spirit was there.  I knew it.  I shared my thoughts with my husband who kindly hugged me and agreed.  He wasn’t denying my assertion but that didn’t mean he bought it either.

When my grandmother, my father’s mother passed away, there was a song on the radio that was popular at the time but for whatever reason resonated for me then.  It was Live’s “Lightning Crashes”.  The lyric that got me was “Lightning crashes, an old mother dies… the confusion that was hers belongs now to the baby down the hall”.  I was sure…positive… that somehow my grandmother was speaking to me through the radio.  Whenever I heard it, I was moved.  In the days and months after her passing, it brought me to tears.  But in later years, it made me smile.  

It’s not played all that often any longer, but I heard it the other day.  And I knew without proof of any sort, she was there in a spiritual sense.  Like a hand on my shoulder or fingers through my hair.  It was comfort and gentle affirmation from someone who once offered sweets and unconditional love on a full time basis.  It’s been years since she passed.  January 1996.  It doesn’t matter.  She was there and I knew it… somehow.  

Maybe I’m loopy, gone around the bend… whatever you want to call it.  Could be.  But it helps to think loved ones are “there”.   That they remember us as we remember them.  In a way my brushes with the “other side” help keep me grounded to reality and serve as a reminder to cherish everyday and not take a moment for granted.  Or at least to make a good attempt.  

I can’t be the only “semi” crazy one out there.  Does anyone else ever experience moments of heightened “cognitive awareness”?  Share please.  It helps to think we’re not alone. 

Published by lanehayes

I'm a M/M author, an avid reader, and chocolate and tea lover too!

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