A psychic locked eyes with me from across the room.

I wiggled in my seat.

A ‘spiritual groups near me’ search lead me here, to the Liverpool Spiritualist Church. If you’re new here, I investigate spiritual and paranormal phenomena then document. It’s my goal at all times to dispel misinformation around these subjects and share with authenticity.

Did I know anything about Spiritualism as a religious movement? Not really. But I was there to find out. Also, I like going to church. I had no idea a medium attended every service. But hallelujah. My people.

“You in the blue sweater.” 

My dumb ass looked left and right though I knew he was talking to me. Reader, I felt it. 

“I’m hearing . . . Jenny?” He paused. “Jennifer? Do you understand, love?” His Yorkshire accent was so thick I barely understood but omg, seriously? Also— shit. I have very mixed feelings about being read in public.

I nodded.

And he locked in. 

I know he locked in because I did, too. 

He closed his eyes. —I didn’t. I like watching other mediums operate.

And what do I mean by ‘locking-in’?

When I’m tapped in the world goes a little hazy. I slip into a bodywide daydream while information settles in my conscience. Believe me when I say it’s a loving physical takeover. And that’s what I felt, sitting there. Except I wasn’t giving the message. But it let me know Spirit was present. And I was a little nervous. Please don’t embarrass me, I prayed.

The man opened his eyes, and the room fell away. It felt like we were at opposite ends of a narrow hallway, with a energetic line of white light between us. That’s the best way to explain it.

“Spirit steps forward for you, love. They’re showing me a Confederate Flag.”

Gasps behind me brought the room back. Also my mouth fell. 

“Does that make sense to you, love? The flag from Dukes of Hazard?” 

“I’m from Texas” I said, probably unnecessarily.  But I couldn’t have the room thinking I was racist. “I don’t support what that flag represents.”

The teacher in me wanted to stop the reading and explain to these wide-eyed Scousers that Spirit uses identifiers, unique words and symbols that resonate, so you know the reader is legit. 

And this reader was legit.

My reading continued. I didn’t super love him channeling my somewhat private business to a room full of people. But such is the nature of a mediumship gallery.

Did I know this was going to happen? No. Was I into it? Absolutely.

The modern Spiritualist Church is a holdover from a 19th century movement, made popular in Victorian times, whereby one could speak to loved ones and divine beings on the Other Side through (legitimate) mediums. Their basic tenets embrace God as loving source energy with emphasis on personal responsibility and karma as we’re all connected, and ‘continuous existence of the human soul’ via eternal energy. 

Spiritualism does not exclude Divine masters like Jesus, Mohammad, and the Buddha. It merely provides spiritual comfort and proof of ‘life after death’ through ‘direct communication’ with deceased loved ones, alongside what you personally derive through prayer. Jesus and Grandma are together on the other side. Why not talk to both?

But religion is full of greedy opportunists, Spiritualism no exception. Legitimate, biblically sanctioned ’discernment of the Spirit’ devolved to seances, charlatans, and cheap parlor tricks. Modern, mainstream religions could easily dismiss this as quackery, but that’s why I was there. To find out.

“You see them, don’t you, love. Spirits. The living, too,” he continued. “See them. Feel them. You walk down the street feeling him and her and them over there.” He gesticulated wildly. “And you can’t turn it off. It’s 24/7 isn’t it, love.” His eyes fixed on mine but also past, into me somehow. “The Divine says you must learn to shut it off. It’s draining you. You pour energy into others leaving little for yourself.”

OK mister. That’s quite enough. This is why people pay for privacy. 

Tears pooled in my lower lids as he moved to the next person. I felt naked. Vulnerable. Seen. And I say it all the time. Spirit tells you what you need to hear. Not what you want to hear. And yay for this church that embraces what I know to be true.

I dug quietly in my purse for a pen.

An unexpected door just opened in Liverpool.