Practical Advice for the

Spiritually Curious & Magically Inclined


Krishanti's Blog

My Story, Part 2

,

There’s something I should add to my story about becoming intuitive, or psychic. And that is this: I believe I was psychic when I was little. There are clues here and there that I remember which lead me to think this. There is also the general belief among the new age community (one I firmly ascribe to) that all children are highly intuitive and psychic, but that adults shut them down when they’re very young because that sort of thing is just not accepted – not even willingly recognized – in our modern society.

My intuitive faculties shut down when I was about 5 or so. A lot of dramatic things happened after my birth, which was in and of itself both perilous and miraculous because my mother had cancer when she was pregnant with me. My mom survived, but divorced my dad, who came from India and left his whole family behind to marry her, when I was three. I loved him with all my heart and was devastated when our little family broke up. I remember that. But I was resilient. As I was when my mother met Mildred, an old African American woman who babysat me while she worked as an ESL teacher. Mildred, whom I called Nana, took care of me, and watched over me, but I don’t know that she was good for me. She had a heavy hand, and was somewhat abusive. Okay, somewhat is a nice way of saying it. Anyway, Nana and my mom became friends. My mom was looking for a mother figure, and Nana was looking for a pupil, or a follower (she was an ordained minister who believed in metaphysics and all that). So their friendship evolved, and they decided to be roommates when I was about 5 or 6. This worked out for my mom because Nana babysat me all the time when she was at work. But this sucked for me, because Nana was very controlling and heavy-handed. She was all about her metaphysics and all about being black and all about how the world had wronged her. And she was determined to whip me into shape. I was constantly afraid of her, and I became, in psychological terms, hypervigilant. Always on the alert. Always watching and worrying about what was going to happen next. Now I know that that vigilant state was the emergence of my protective analytical mind on overdrive, drowning out the soft, dreamy, happy go lucky side of my intuitive self. It’s neither good nor bad; it was a protective state, a survival thing.

I never knew what kind of mood Nana would be in when I got home from school. I never new if she’d want to beat me or verbally berate me or take away all my toys for some phantom of a reason she made up in her twisted mind. Meanwhile, who knows what my mom was thinking or how much of this she realized was going on. A few years after we were living with Nana, when I was ten, my mom got sick again. And she fought and struggled against Hodgkin’s Disease for five straight years after that. I watched my mother, whom I loved with all of my heart and soul, suffer excruciating, debilitating pain as this cancer consumed her body. And my hypervigilance grew even stronger. I was all about survival: my own, and that of my mother. Will the radiation work? How much codeine will she need tonight? Will she throw up from the chemo treatment? How long will it take before all her hair falls out? How can I help her? Will God answer my constant prayers that he spare her this pain and suffering? Will she get better? Will she survive? Because the cancer went into remission and returned a couple of times, these fears were constant.

In New Age terms, all of this non-psychic hypervigilance formed me into a classic empath, because I’m so compassionate when I am trying to help family, friends, and clients that I can literally feel their pain. It’s not a great thing to be or have on my part, though, because it really hurts, and it’s born from the unconditional love I felt for my mother as she suffered so miserably before she died at age 39, when I was 15.

The bright side of all of this is that it primed me to be a very good intuitive, and a very good helper for those who need my assistance. As I work with my intuition more and more, I find I can be less involved, more detached, but still extremely loving, understanding, and helpful. It amazes me, how precious our intuitive faculties are, and how wonderful it is when we’re able to use and express them. We have so much more power locked into our psychic centers than we do in our ordinary analytical minds, which work so hard to protect us, but are so trapped in the flight or flight paradigm that not much else is allowed for. It’s not easy to see this until you’ve experienced working in the trenches with both sides of the psyche, as I have.

It took me a long time to re-discover my intuitive side, to realize that I really am psychic. I didn’t even think it was possible. But the process of this re-discovery is so exciting and new that I wouldn’t change that experience for all the world.


My Story

,

I always thought it would be SO COOL to be psychic. To know what was going to happen, what people were really thinking, if embarking on some new endeavor would be good or bad in the long run. I never really thought I was or could ever be psychic, though. I thought psychic people were born knowing they were psychic. Born seeing weird things no-one else saw, knowing things no-one else knew. I kind of assumed psychics were people with a “special gift”, people descended from a long lineage of psychics or something like that.

I’ve always loved the idea of magic and fairy tales and the possibility that there was “something more” to everyday life. But whatever that “something more” was, completely eluded me. I went to school, went to college, got jobs, got married. It wasn’t until my friend paid for me to have a clairvoyant reading when I visited her in Boulder, Colorado, that I realized what that “something more” was. I’d never really had a big-time reading – just visited a couple of storefront psychics with friends. So this was a new experience for me.

The reading happened at a place called Psychic Horizons, where, my friend said, they taught people how to access their intuitive powers. The reading only cost $20 because it was given by students of the program.

I went in with only one question in mind. I wanted to know what the purpose of my life was. I wasn’t allowed to verbally state this or any question, but somehow the two people doing the reading picked up on it. And they started talking about what it was I was here to do, all in wonderful kind of allegorical ways, speaking in terms of imagery and feelings and colors and, believe it or not, roses. I didn’t care. They were on to something. The reading lasted over an hour and by the end I felt completely transformed. I knew, and yet I didn’t know…and then again, I did know and I felt really, really different, and very good. It’s almost too difficult to explain. But something definitely shifted. I felt it, and they felt it. It was really magical. Seriously.

The next day, we went to the Boulder library and I stumbled upon a book called “The Psychic Pathway” by Sonia Choquette. I started reading it and showed my friend, who checked it out from the library. I returned home to LA two days later and told my aunt about the reading and the book, which she happened to have a copy of (I had no idea!), and which she she sent to me. I read the book from cover to cover, and started to do the exercises in it.

And believe it or not, I became psychic. Or, to use a term I’m more comfortable with, Intuitive. I found more books and more resources, including my very own teacher, Debra Katz, who taught me how to work with my clairvoyance, clairsentience, and clairaudience. I started giving practice readings to friends and family, and then branched out with strangers. I’ve gotten more rave reviews and positive feedback than I could ever imagine. I’ve recounted the past, restated the present, and predicted the future thousands of times, and I’m still thrilled as could be – and a little bit amazed – when the information I’ve given is verified. I love this work.

So this blog is about my stories, experiences, tidbits and methods. It’s an adventure, and I’m delighted to share it.