It is a lovely spring day, emoting summer. The warm air is oh-so-soothing to my soul. It is a time when I feel truly blessed as I absorb my surroundings. Ugh! The ordinarily harmless sound of the gardeners across the street (half way down the south side of the block) cutting hedges and mowing a neighbor’s front lawn is irritating. I refuse to have that destroy my reverie; I disregard it and enjoy what’s there for me.

My home appears peaceful and quiet, but I am suddenly in the living room of my neighbors to the right, who are unconsciously violating my living room space, arguing. When I check my radar, I am thankful they are almost finished. My client is looking at me, waiting for me to become comfortable again. As it sometimes happens – like any normal person – when I am unnerved by the amplification of the outside world I take a few seconds to momentarily sit in silence, removing myself and determining how much better or worse the condition will become.

I readjust, making a greater effort to concentrate – to go beyond any present or future interference. As I am working through this, I detect a UPS truck delivering a package to a neighbor across the street. Another unidentifiable heavy diesel slowly creeps, squeaks and sputters along a few feet away from the UPS truck. It stops and starts many times, allowing a few cars to pass by (two fairly new American compacts and one older and small, feisty foreign sports car). I hear the woman two houses south of mine talking to the mailman.

Another neighbor joins in the conversation, making an inquiry. There is a hammer pounding north of me from the first house around the corner. A large dog is barking from the west, directly behind my sweet yet invaded sanctuary. I appear calm, but I am screaming out of my mind. I look towards the small, but effective portable fan on the floor for consolation. It is blowing lightly, facing the open window. I originally placed it there to drown out the noises outside while accommodating my own rising temperature later on – something which automatically occurs when I give a reading. I wait for a couple seconds. Fortunately, the woman I am reading has received many readings with me throughout the years. She knows me and realizes that I have a sensitive personal process to contend with. I decide to indulge myself and scream (for only a few seconds and not loud enough). She nods and waits patiently. As I gloom, I am not surprised to discover the original energy I was operating on at some point merged and became hers. I am aware of my physical presence, yet more aware of hers and how she feels. I have become warm rather quickly. I stop and take a few seconds to readjust the fan on the next speed, aiming it directly on me. The sound of the fan has the same calming affect for me as the ocean. I am relaxed, conducive to receive and to deliver the remaining information that is there. I am aware I am carrying it to and from the fan. I realize what will be said next and why. It is a good, clear connection. I resume working. My client has shifted outside of our connection. Suddenly, she begins looking at me strangely, saying, “Gee, how did you know that?” I look at her in disbelief and think, It’s my job! I choose not to answer her, since I don’t want to interrupt the information – the flow of the reading. Instead, I choose to ride the connection until the session is complete. She understands.

After the reading, she asks, “How does it work? What is the psychic process like? Is it one of feelings?” I respond, “It is like electricity. After you get connected, you turn on the switch and the light is on, to see and comprehend information.”  I also add, “It would be easier for me to write a cook book rather than explain the psychic process and how it works.” As she laughs, my beloved cat uses my left leg as if it were a scratching post. He is hungry and expects her to leave. I think, I will feed my baby, meditate and plan a trip to the desert in the near future for some much needed peace and quiet.