Yesterday I spent a few hours in the presence of a group of folks who attended an event at Soul, Body and Home Gifts , in New Hope, PA that opened a door to connecting with loved ones who had passed. Edward Tabbitis is a medium and grief counselor who has assisted many in soothing the pain of loss. It was an evening that included gallery readings which tapped into messages from loved ones, as well as guidance for issues occurring for those who were there. I had not heard of him previously, but when I saw the announcement, I knew I needed to be there. I have met many gifted psychics over the years. I have met others whose info was so vague that nearly anyone with a wee bit of intuition could have shared the same stuff. He is the real deal. One major measure of someone’s abilities is if they pick up on details that they would no other way of knowing than if Spirit had whispered in their ears.
He began by tapping his right hand and the pen he held in it against his leg in a manner that told me that my father was coming through, since Ed’s movements replicated Parkinson’s tremors. My father had died of the condition in 2008. He then mentioned the letter G and asked if it was significant. I referred to my maternal grandmother as Giggie, since I couldn’t pronounce anything resembling grandma and the name stuck. Everyone in the family began to call her that. Although my mother’s name was Selma, her nickname was Georgie, so bestowed upon her by her BFF Miriam who worked with her. My mom had been a switchboard operator for attorneys in her twenties and whenever she would put someone on hold, she would say “Wait a minute, George.” so Georgie she became.
Ed then began tapping his chest and said that it connected with the death of an aunt in Europe. That part didn’t ring true, but it came up a few times in the reading. He mentioned “You are all about love,” and that I needed to learn to trust others and myself and (he used this word) ‘demand’ more and receive more from others. He tapped his chest again. I informed him that he was reflecting the impact of the heart attack I had nearly a year ago. A collective gasp went through the room.
He mentioned books and asked if I had a lot of them. Laughing, I let him know that I have more of them than any other item in my home. I think they are in every room. He told me that I needed to write another book this year-not knowing I had already written one, in order to “move on to the next phase of your life.” Oh, and he reminded me to dust the books and bookshelves.
Another thing that jumped out at me, that I want to share here, had lopped over into my dreams last night.
He mentioned something about a train and wondered if it was significant. My mind immediately jumped to my favorite portion of the movie called Under the Tuscan Sun.
“Signora, between Austria and Italy, there is a section of the Alps called the Semmering. It is an impossibly steep, very high part of the mountains. They built a train track over these Alps to connect Vienna and Venice. They built these tracks even before there was a train in existence that could make the trip. They built it because they knew some day, the train would come.”
I use this as a metaphor for manna-festing my heart’s desires.
In the wee hours this morning, I woke up and laughed at the dreamscape in which I was on the back of a train, standing on the platform and there was no railing. It was moving so fast, that I fell off and started running after it. I jumped back on and this time, held on tight. It symbolized how I myself used to run after life and felt I couldn’t keep up. Whew~
One more round through the room, as he allowed us to ask a final question. I inquired about ways to surrender the impact of my ‘paradoxical marriage’ that ended when my husband died, in order to move on. He instructed me to write a letter to him and acknowledge what each of us had done to have created that condition and then ‘mail’ it by burning it. I will do that this week.
Through tears and laughter, a group of strangers in some cases- since a few of the women there knew each other, bonded in the process of honoring love and loss.
Read Previous Post
