You Decide

One summer in the 1990’s at a Spiritualist Camp in Wisconsin, I worked as a Medium. Was I a Medium? I had interviewed for the Massage Therapist position! But the manager needed another Reader. She handed me a watch and told me to hold it, and tell her what vibrations I felt. I don’t recall what I answered, but I got the job.

On days when I was scheduled to work, they put my name on a whiteboard in the front office, alongside #37, the number of my musty little Reading Cottage set among the towering pines. There were other Mediums at other cottages, with their names on the office whiteboard too. Most had been doing the work for decades.

But soon enough, this newbie found her routine. A client would approach, I welcomed them, and we sat at a small table in my cottage. I whispered my invocation, “I trust myself to channel to you whatever you need.” Then I breathed until my attention went unfocused. I let it blur and move around their aura to see who was nearby. I trusted what came, and spoke it. I don’t remember a single one of the messages. But the clients kept coming all summer.

The whole mountaintop had an aura that made the Medium job easier. From the native Ojibwe word, wonowag: they howl, arose the town name, Wonewoc. Timber wolves sometimes still howled in the evenings, and their message of belonging seemed to open our ears. The location had long been called Unity Hill. It was said that, before the English came, warring native  tribes could come together there in peace.

On Unity Hill, daily the dead appeared, and kindly remedied the living. The place gave deep shade in high summer, cooling the sweat of wanderers. Holy with oak and pine, the green of that camp caught each dream of breeze, playing it back and forth in the cathedral of branches. For over a hundred summers, the Spiritualist Camp had operated atop the town’s summit. For those who arrived seeking and for those like me who arrived by chance, it was a sanctuary that disarmed us of worldly burdens On that mountaintop in Wonewoc where oneness linked us, the living and the dead came together for healing.

Was I a Medium? For me, that long-ago summer was when I learned that maybe we each have that access within our invisible wiring. That link-up, that doorway to the cosmic allness, now more often called the Quantum Field. Who knows. You decide.