There are no magic beans

I stopped believing in God on a Monday in 1967. The day before, the Sunday School teacher said we could have anything we wanted if we prayed to God.
This was a breakthrough.
Not only was God fun in fuzzy felt, he was also Santa Claus. What I wanted as a six year old child was a Jack-in-a-Box. So, I prayed. I even knelt by the bed like the pictures in Sunday School. Monday morning arrived, and no Jack-in-a-box.

Transactionally disappointed, I gave up on God.

It took the next thirty-five years to make friends with God again and believe in the power of prayer. Prayer is you talking to God, and intuition is God talking back. It’s disappointing to realise God/the Universe isn’t Santa Claus and the Divine is not dishing out treats to everyone who just wishes hard.
There are no magic beans, instant activations or shortcuts to enlightenment. Yet as adults we want to believe there are.

Maybe you’ve lost your faith a little

And there are no coincidences you wound up here – we’re fellow travellers on the spiritual path. Only I’ll bet I’ve made a few more mistakes than you and could probably open some of those invisible doors you keep banging your head on. Here’s what I know about you already:

There’s more to life than stacking the dishwasher, and you could care less about the Kardashians.

You’re super comfy in your skin – the hard personal work is paying off and you’re feeling good about yourself most of the time.

The nearest and dearest already know you’re psychic – they aren’t surprised if you come out of the broom closet. (Or not -maybe you like it in there just fine.)

There’s a curiosity about the unseen world

A fascination ever since you were a kid, and you’ve never really had words for what it was. (The disappointed six year old later became a ten-year-old with an Ouija board and Led Zeppelin’s Fourth album.
If you’re done with cookie cutter psychic training and ready to discover your psychic potential, we should talk. The magic beans are inside you and can never be given by an outside source. It’s time to discover yours.

Drop me a message and book a chat.

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Semi fictional story about me

In 1994, I had a midlife crisis, got a boob job and moved to Byron Bay.

Quickly realized there was nothing there but more boob jobs and white furniture, so I escaped faux-spiritual beach culture, went to Peru, and experimented with DMT.

While in Peru, fell in love with a Shaman who was really a plumber from Padstow, but stayed because of attachment issues.

After following a puma from the jungle, I holed up in a Scandi-style Air B’n’B and finally got enlightened.

Parts of this story are true.

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