So, let’s talk about guides.
The theory is that we all have guides around us that help and learn from us. Some people call them guardian angels, some call them angels. I call them guides, because to me, that’s what they are.
In my opinion, there is a difference between spirit guides and guardian angels. To me, guardian angels are big; they are much more evolved than your average spirit guides. They’re like the bosses, the overseers.
Spirit guides are more likely souls who will come back. They learn from us, they observe, they try to help. You’ll feel them more because they seem closer to us.
I saw my first guide when I was around eight years old. A lady had come to the house for a reading with my mom. I was used to people coming in and out of our house, so her being there wasn’t that big of a deal. But what caught my attention was the posse she walked in with. She had three or four “souls” accompanying her. And none of them looked like any spook I’d ever seen.
Even at that tender age I had seen my share of spirits. Each one had a different light around them, usually white or off-white, some even darker. And they all came in different shapes and sizes.
I didn’t like seeing ghosts, they gave me the creeps, but at my house they came with the dinner. Literally.
But the people that came with this lady were different. They weren’t creepy, like regular ghosts were; they seemed kind and loving. And their color was different, gold and silver looking.
When she came into the kitchen where I was, they seemed to fill the room. Each one had this glow to it, which resonated from its core.
They saw that I could see them and they all smiled, like someone would when they were genuinely glad to see you. I looked around to see if others in the room could also see what I was seeing, but judging by their lack of awe I assumed they couldn’t.
This struck me as odd, because these people were so amazing. My best choice was to chalk it up to my imagination; I had a good one back then and I didn’t mind seeing things that weren’t really there. Still, they really did feel real.
Before my mother started her reading I took her aside and told her what I saw. Instead of shooing me away, she asked me to describe to her what I saw, so I did. They were so clear and bright that it was easy to do, right down to the color of their eyes.
She asked the women if any of the people I described sounded familiar to her, like maybe I was showing that I had medium skills. But the woman shook her head and said none of them sounded familiar. So I let it go.
About a week after I saw her, the lady came back for another reading. She told my mom she gave some thought to what I said and what I described. She said she was certain that they weren’t people she knew that had passed, but my description of them seemed familiar to her. She said for some reason she felt comforted that I saw them around her.
Nobody really knew what to think of it; it was just another weird thing that happened at the house, but it did make me feel better that she was comforted. At least nobody made fun of me or took me away to a nice, quiet room.
As time went on, I saw these “souls” with the gold and silver lighting around them more frequently.
And I didn’t just see them when I was practicing readings. I’d see them when I was talking to my friends, my siblings, and even my teachers at school.
I was in gym class one time and Mr. Wood, our gym teacher, was trying to teach me the fine art of a proper burpee.
Mr. Wood hated me. He thought I threw a giant snowball at his favorite student, a girl named Jessica, and knocked her down. Sure, I had been known to throw a snowball or two, but those were at friends and moving cars. I didn’t know Jessica well enough to throw a snowball at her, but I liked her; she was sweet. The guy who did throw the snowball was a guy named Snot-Nosed Billy. He knew Jessica, and when I arrived on the scene, I saw him throw the snowball and run away. I was helping her up after he knocked her down, when Mr. Wood rounded the corner and saw her covered in snow with me standing over her. Wrong place, wrong time.
I wasn’t about to turn in Snot-Nosed Billy, because I really didn’t think Mr. Wood would believe me, plus he was nowhere to be seen. The scene looked pretty cut and dry. And I didn’t mind that Mr. Wood thought what he thought, because Jessica knew it wasn’t me and that was all that mattered. But since that time, he had it in for me.
So there I was doing burpees for God knows what reason this time, and I look over at Mr. Wood and see those people around him, the ones with the gold and silver colors. There were three of them, and just by looking at them I could tell they really loved Mr. Wood.
It was the polar opposite of how I was feeling at the time.
You have to understand that in my mind Mr. Wood was a tyrant—a pushy, mean, cold son of Satan who had no redeeming qualities except the ability to make me look stupid. He didn’t care about me and never showed me any real kindness, but watching these beings act so loving toward Beelzebub Jr. had me confused, to say the least. Why would these souls care so much about a complete dick?
But just as I was wondering that, these people started showing me a different side of who Mr. Wood really was.
I could see them looking at me and then at Mr. Wood. They adored him; they looked like they would do anything for this man if they could. But they could also see that I was puzzled, conflicted. One of them looked directly at me, and for a moment it felt like I was seeing Mr. Wood through their eyes.
I saw how hard he worked for his family, I saw his disappointment at how his life turned out. I saw how he wished he could have provided more for them. How kind he actually was, how noble he actually was. I saw his daughters. I didn’t think the man could get a date, let alone a wife and kids. But I saw how they looked up to him, how gentle he was, protective.
I couldn’t help but feel compassion for the man after that. I actually started to admire him.
I snapped out of my love fest with his guides when Mr. Woods caught me staring his way. With his veins popping out and his tongue on fire, he asked me rather loudly what I was staring at. Rather than tell him the truth and introduce him to his guides, I panicked and said, “Umm your face,” which was true. When he asked me again, this time with added vigor and spit, I thought it was a trick question, so I stuck to my original answer.
It was a lot of pressure on a young lad with HCICSG (holy crap I can see guides) syndrome. I really didn’t know what to say. I knew I couldn’t tell him what I just learned; I’d be chopped into little pieces and thrown into the loony bin—or worse, detention—but I didn’t want him to think poorly of me. So I shut up, a rarity for me.
Mercifully, he only made me sweep the gym floor with a paint brush, but it didn’t matter. I felt like I knew the real guy now, underneath the rotten, crusted, “drop and give me twenty” asshole I had come to know. He wasn’t that guy; he was trying to figure it out just like everybody else. After that day I liked him.
I still didn’t really know who those souls were, or what they wanted. They were all different, nobody was the same, but they all had that odd light to them.
I was happy with assuming it was my imagination. So many people were trying to single themselves out as unique, show that they were different (meaning better than the rest), and I didn’t want to enter the fray with stories of glowing people, so I kept it mostly to myself.
It wasn’t until my late teens, when I started doing professional readings, that these “people” started to make sense to me.
My preference was to do the opposite of what I saw growing up. The last thing I wanted was to be in a quiet room with thick drapes and creepy lighting. I needed loud and busy. I wanted the feel of the conversations I was having to be as normal as having lunch with a friend. So I met people for lunch.
This particular day I was doing a reading for a lady named Clare, a friend of my mother’s, at a busy delicatessen during the noon rush.
When she came in, it looked like she came in with three other people, only the other three had that light around them. My first reaction was frustration. I didn’t want to read four people, I didn’t want to be judged or watched by other people when I did readings. But as she got closer, I realized the other three didn’t have feet. Still, they were so vivid that I had to mention them to Clare.
I said hello and asked how she was; she seemed nice. But then I asked her if any of the people I saw sitting next to her were her relatives or friends. I knew I wasn’t supposed to ask questions like that; I was supposed to know who those people were, but these weren’t like the normal dead people your average Joe psychic sees.
I described what they looked like and a smile came across her face.
“Those are my guides,” she said, “your mother said you’d be able to see them. Can you tell me about them?”
I paused. “Guides?” I asked, “What the hell is a guide?”
If this had been a driver’s test the instructor would have kicked me out of the car and suggested I take the bus. There are only a few things you’re supposed to do when you do readings, but I was doing all the things you’re not supposed to do. Honestly, I didn’t know that I cared. I was seeing these people all over the place and now there was a lady coming to me for a reading and she seemed to know more about them than I did. I was already looking like a complete amateur and I probably wasn’t going to get paid, which meant I shouldn’t order that corned beef, coleslaw, and French dressing sandwich that I really liked, because I didn’t bring any money.
“Well,” she said patiently, “from what I understand from Birdie, they are our guardian angels.”
Birdie was our teacher, my psychic mentor. She loved my sister and mother and tolerated me because she saw that I had abilities. I was always at odds with Birdie because I wasn’t comfortable with my gifts or the psychic world as a whole, so I always felt she was testing me, trying to get me to conform. I admired her for her strengths, even feared her because of them. She was the strongest psychic I had ever known, but I bucked her instructions as much as I could—my way of fighting the man.
Now my head was buzzing. Was this a test from Birdie, was Clare a mole? How did she know Birdie and why didn’t Birdie tell me about guides?
And could I at least borrow the money for that sandwich?
And then it hit me. Birdie did tell me about guides, but when she said guardian angels, I envisioned people with wings and harps. I didn’t think that meant normal looking people.
I started to think. When I saw these figures, they were always around other people, like Mr. Wood or people who came to get readings. Unlike normal dead people, these beings didn’t talk; they thought their words. Even then, it wasn’t just words; it was like they put you right in the person’s heart. It was simple yet complex, deep and light all at the same time. They were much more loving and more full than your average Casper, and their light was very different than Spirit.
I gathered myself and looked again at her guides, with the pressure of wondering if these were relatives or friends gone. I didn’t have to concentrate on the stupid stuff like whether they smoked or what dress they wore at their funeral. I could just listen to what they had to say. If it made sense, great; if not, maybe it would later on.
Her guides were patient with me as I stumbled to figure out who they were.
When I settled in they began to “talk” to me and with my worry filter gone, the words just flowed. I couldn’t get them out fast enough, and now more than one of them was talking. I stopped and asked if she had any paper and pen to write some of their thoughts down, but all she had was a pen. I grabbed a napkin and started writing all the things they were saying, or at least the main points of what they were saying.
I didn’t even look at her while I was doing this. I just kept writing and talking.
When they stopped talking, I stopped too, and I looked up to see if she was still there. She was, and she was crying. At first I wasn’t sure if it was because I said the wrong thing or if she was upset because she wasted her day on a semi-slow psychic. I asked her if she was okay and she shook her head yes. I asked if she needed me to explain what I just said and she shook her head no.
She sat in silence until finally she looked up at me and said thank you. She said she was blown away by the information and needed some time to process it. She asked if I would mind if she left. I said, “No, of course not.”
She stood up, pulled a fifty from her purse and said, “Here, thank you.”
I stood up, gave her a hug, and thanked her for the money. I reminded her that the cost was only twenty-five, but she insisted I take the fifty. She paused again like she was going to ask me a question, but then shook her head and again thanked me.
Wow, I thought to myself. Fifty bucks!
I still wasn’t sure about the guide thing. I understood that it made sense for Clare, and I understood the principle behind what they might be. These were different beings. But—and I mean no disrespect to the woo-woos out there—most of the people in the psychic community, or at least those that hung out at my house, would believe just about anything. You could tell them a unicorn was doing a jig behind them and they’d turn around and say, “Oh yeah, I see it.”
But I did feel better about my readings regardless of who these beings were, because the information came so clearly.
And as I did more readings, these “guides” became clearer. I was growing more comfortable with them and it seemed they were more comfortable with me. Every once in a while, someone would ask me where I was getting my information. If it felt right I would tell them I saw people around them, and they were giving me the information. More and more people were commenting on how they had also seen these people around them, so the idea was becoming less and less crazy.
And then this happened.
I started doing a reading for a nice, quiet guy I’d never met before. Normally when I do a reading, guides just show up and start telling me stuff, sometimes three or four at a time, so I have to try to pick apart what each of them is saying. It’s good that they’re talking, but a pain to figure it out. Anyway, this guy sat down, I sat down. I was waiting for someone to show up and start talking and I got nothing but crickets. I thought maybe I wasn’t supposed to give this guy a reading, which happens from time to time. But I could feel guides around him. Like when you’re lying down with your eyes closed and you can feel someone come into the room.
Now I was confused. Were these souls going to talk to me or not? And if not, what the hell were they doing in the restaurant?
I asked them, not out loud but more to myself, like “Hello, anybody home?” Then I saw these alien-looking creatures standing over this guy, kind of smiling. I say kind of because they weren’t like smiling like you and I smile, but I could just tell they were happy. Their eyes were huge, their mouths were tiny, and they were really tall. They didn’t have a hair on them and very little muscle structure, but they felt powerful. They also oozed love and pride for this guy, like he was one of them.
I had heard stories of people from other planets coming here to learn since I was a tadpole, so it wasn’t a complete shock, but it was still a pretty good shock.
They didn’t talk, but I could hear them clearly. It was like speech got in the way; they could communicate words and emotions at the same time. I could feel their love and concern for this guy all at once. It was a pretty amazing experience. After the initial shock wore off, I found it easier to communicate with these beings than with humans.
They told me all about him, how he felt so alone and detached from humans, how he struggled to fit in, and that he was tired of trying. They went on and on about what his mission was and how he could achieve it. They wanted me to reassure him that he wasn’t alone and suggested a way to open the conversation. They said all these things within seconds of their appearance and I was amazed at how efficient they were at communication.
I had to smile and laugh at myself. I had finally gone over the edge. Soon I’d be eating apple sauce with a safe spoon at a quiet rest place for insane psychics. “I blame my mother,” I thought. “No way can I tell this guy he’s an alien.”
Most people get a little iffy just meeting me for lunch. Telling them they might be from the Planet X doesn’t instill serenity. I checked back with the ETs but, as sweet as they were, they didn’t seem obliged to hold my hand, so on I went.
I looked at the man, who was fidgety by now, and apologized for taking so long, though in reality it was only a matter of minutes. I did what they said and told him that I knew he looked at the stars and missed home. When I did, his eyes filled up and he began to cry. “Thank God,” I thought to myself, “I don’t have to be locked up and wear pajamas for six months.” We began the reading.
This wouldn’t be the last time I saw “alien” spirit guides around people; in fact it started happening more and more as I got used to the idea. But still, it was odd to see these beings around people. Most of the time the people they were around seemed relieved when I told them about their guides, like it made sense to them.
Guides, no matter where they come from, seem to love us deeply. They only want us to succeed and be happy.
I can just hear the skeptics: “Is this one of those Tinker Bell, ‘I believe’ type deals?” No, it’s not. Guides are around us whether you believe in them or not. Ask them to show you! That’s what our old teachers taught us. Ask for a sign. You can, it’s part of the deal.
My mother used to put a piece of paper and a pencil by her bed at night and ask them to write something down. Sometimes it would take days until she got something, but she always did. This was before we learned about earth-bound spirits and how they wanted our attention, so it was more than likely something from them rather than a guide, but still, my mom got excited.
What you can ask for is guidance, but for God’s sake, be clear on what you want.
If you tell your guides you want to be happier, you’re in for the ride of your life.
A woman I’ve done readings for for years came to me pissed off because in part of the reading I told her to ask her guides to show her happiness. I did warn her that the path isn’t always what we want it to be, but she didn’t hear that part.
She said shortly after asking her guides, she started seeing all the people in her life who were bad for her. Then they showed her how empty and hard her job was. Then she said money problems started happening. They were doing cutbacks at her work and rather than be let go she agreed to a pay cut, but she still worked the same hours.
Then her moods started to change. She lost her patience with people, she started to get weepy at odd times, frustrated, anxious. So when she came back to me, she was ready to ask for a refund. Not only did she not get the answers she was looking for, but since she asked, life had gotten considerably worse.
But, here’s what she didn’t see. Every one of those things was an answer. The people they showed her were bringing her down and wearing her out. The job she was at did suck, it wasn’t the right place for her at all. And of course the money sucked; if the money was great, she’d be less likely to leave. This way she was much more able to walk away if she wanted to.
As I explained this to her, her expression turned from “fuck you” to “hmm … okay.” I continued.
I told her the mood swings she was having were helping her make decisions. She was no longer bound by what she thought other people would think was right, because now she was thinking for herself.
I told her she was ready. She was clear-headed, she was pissed off, but she was willing to step through the doors she wasn’t able to in the past.
She seemed to get it.
She gathered her things and we walked toward the door. I hugged her goodbye, and as she walked out the door I quickly mentioned that she would probably get fired in the next week or so, but not to worry because it was all a part of the plan. Sometimes I like to wait until the last minute to share things like that, so I don’t have to deal with the aftermath.
The last thing I heard was, “Wait … what?” Until a month later when she confirmed that she did indeed get fired. But the story does have a happy ending. She was scared for a week or two, but then started looking. She applied for a job that a year ago she would have never applied for. But because she was so pissed, she thought why not.
She was calling me to tell me she got the job, and she was really excited to start her new life.
All of this wasn’t my doing, it was hers. She put herself in the position to change, which her guides helped her do, just not in the way she was hoping they would.
This also works for you negative types too. If you’re the kind of person who only sees shitty things with shitty people and shitty jobs, guides can accommodate you as well. In fact, it’s way easier.
If you think you’re too stupid to be in the job you want, they’ll help you find a stupid job. If you feel more comfortable around asshole people, they’ll surround you with asshole people. If you complain and complain, they’ll help you find things to complain about. They don’t judge, they just want you happy. If you’re happy being miserable, consider it done. All your dreams will come true.
It’s not a punishment, it’s just simple reasoning.
That’s the thing about guides: you ask them for something and it’s always a surprise how they answer it for you.
You ask for patience, they park you behind a lady going twenty on the freeway. You ask for money and you find a five in your pocket. You ask for a lot of money, you get a check in the mail from someone who owed it to you, which happens to be the same amount you owe someone else. You ask for unconditional love, you find a lost puppy.
Everything is about learning.
A guy I like, Mike, came to me for a reading a few years ago and his only questions were about whether he was going to be a cop. He’d been a security guy for years but he really wanted to be a cop.
His guides agreed; they felt he was supposed to be a cop. But everything they were getting from him said he just wanted to stay a security guy. He wasn’t applying for schools, he wasn’t checking out leads, he was just talking to people about how great it would be to be a cop.
When I told Mike what they said, he came back with more excuses than a politician. The schools he liked didn’t accept him, money was too tight, he didn’t want to work in Florida. On and on this guy went with reasons why he couldn’t be a cop.
Finally, I told him to just stay a security guy and see what comes up. Needless to say, I didn’t get a tip.
I ran into Mike a few weeks back. He’s still a good guy and he’s still a security guard, but the ironic thing is that most of the time he works side by side with real cops. As he’s gotten to know some of them he’s found out that a lot of them had worse qualifications than he did. Some really struggled getting into school, some had to go to out of state to get work. All the excuses he gave me, these people had faced, but they kept going.
So he was surrounded by living reminders of what he wanted to become and should have become. Some of them even said to him, “Too bad you didn’t want to be a cop, Mikey. You’d be a good one.”
Guides can’t make you do anything, but I know they try.
The old psychics believed that the reason you got the new car or new job or relationship you wanted was because that was the car, the job, or the person you were supposed to get.
Meaning they knew you were going to need a new car and they knew a Mustang in your price range was going to be available. The old psychics believed Spirit would make you want a Mustang, so you would look for one and voilà!, there it was.
This theory always confused the hell out of me, because it seems like it has a lot of holes in it, but what it boils down to is that sometimes we want certain things because we are going to get those things.
Yes, I know the doehays out there are thinking, “Well what if I want a million dollars? Ha ha!”
Well, there have been a ton of people who had that desire, and a lot of them have seen it come true. There’s story after story of people writing checks to themselves and later being able to cash them.
But there are also tons of stories like Mike’s. You chose which way you want to go.
Guides aren’t genies, they don’t grant wishes. But they do help you obtain yours.