Do You See Spirit?

As a Spirit Artist the question I seem to get regularly from a great many people is how am I able to draw Spirit? Are they actually in the room or is it all just in my head?
​
To answer this month’s question I want to begin by recounting a story about something that happened when I was quite young.  An experience that I’m sure, changed the course of my life – although I didn’t know it at the time.

It was an early Christmas mass at St. Mary’s in Scituate, Massachusetts, 1963

From the ninth pew on the right hand side, we rose to say “praise to the Lord, King of heaven & earth”.  Eager to be the first to check out the toys under the tree, my grandfather & I would make our hasty exit to begin the walk home. 

I was seven.  My grandfather, a decorated World War one hero, would not see his 77th birthday.

That Christmas would place three unforgettable images on my impressionable young mind and would begin a year that I would later call the year of ‘Three Johns’.  That year I would be thrust from boyhood to perpetual philosopher and questioner of both God and man.

Three of the four most important men in my life –  John Mclintock, better known as grandpa,  Pope John XXIII and JFK would all leave this world in parade-like fashion to enter heaven.  
​
Dad remained the fourth man in my life that I had great regard and appreciation for.

The heart attack struck swiftly

The trek home from church that day was long and arduous for my grandfather and mayhem ensued immediately upon our arrival.  My Dad reacted quickly to my screams for help, lifting me by one arm and tossing me to the corner of the kitchen. My grandmother was inconsolable. My mom and my sisters frantically trying to make sense of the horror that was unfolding before them. Their screams and shrieks of pain pierced my brain and still ring on to this day. My soul jumped in fear that in my haste to get to my precious toys, I had somehow caused this devastation.

Grandpa lay convulsing on the kitchen floor, his skin turning purple.  Dad leaned close to his ear and whispered the ‘Our Father’.

A couple of years would pass after Grandpa John’s death and every now and then my sisters would report that they had sensed him close.  Back then I thought they were just being silly but a few years later I would have a precognition of my mother’s death and would earn notoriety as the family “weirdo”. 
​
I was teeming with guilt.

I heard the closet doors squeak open. Startled, my eyes darted across the room.

As dusk settled late one summer’s evening, I climbed into bed, slipping under a single cotton sheet.  The doors to my closet, I’m embarrassed to say were faithfully shut tight to help still my fears of the boogeyman lurking inside! My bedroom door closed securely – a mandatory requirement in case of fire. This was the customary routine night after night - without exception. A bit compulsive perhaps, but tonight these two consistencies would be the only tangible proof of the encounter that was about to occur.

The tears came as they did every night but tonight in the room’s amber light, I heard the closet doors squeak open. Startled, my eyes darted across the room to the closet door, now open about six inches, no more.  Through the opening and seemingly right through the door, a man emerged. Panicked and fixated, I reached for a pencil on my nightstand, the only thing I could grasp to protect myself.  The man drew closer appearing somewhat semi-transparent.

Was it possible? Could it be? ​

Now pressed tight to my headboard I somehow mustered the courage to say, “Who are you?” and shouted for dad. The man drew closer and leaned down, grabbing the footboard and it was then that I recognized him. Was it? Could it really be? It was! Right there before me - my Grandfather!

He repeated the last words he said to me as he lay dying on the kitchen floor that horrific Christmas morning…. “Joseph, don’t cry. It’s going to be okay”. ​

I asked, “Are you there with mom?” to which he replied, “Yes. It’s okay”.  Then I told him “the Red Sox won today, three to two” - I knew he’d want to know! “I know” he said, “I caught the game”. “Are you going to stay?” I asked. “I’ll be back time and again to check on you. Be a good boy”.  I told him that I was trying but I was sad. “Don’t be sad. It’ll all be okay” he assured.

And with that he raised up and waved then floated towards the bedroom door. He opened the door and turned back, smiled then disappeared into the hall. 
​
I quickly turned on the light on my nightstand. Thrilled and still in disbelief, I turned my attention to the doors – both were open! I knew it was true.

Not just my imagination!

I ran down the hall to my dad’s room and knocked on the door, yelling, “Dad, Dad, wake up”. “What” he grumbled. “Grandpa was just here. We talked about the Red Sox.  He saw the game!” ​

​Irritated now, my father barked back “It’s nothing. You shouldn’t have had those pickles after dinner. It’s just your imagination. Now, go back to bed and stay there”. 

Dad’s dismissal surprised me and crushed my excitement but I was absolutely convinced of Grandpa’s visit. 
​
I’ve had several more from him over the years, each one as vivid as the first. And he has been especially helpful during some of my more difficult readings.

So how does spirit show itself?

Of course, not all Spirit communication occurs with such clarity. Most of the time mediums, myself included, must interpret & decipher a myriad of signs, symbols and sensory stimuli in order to discern information about spirit’s appearance, characteristics and personality traits, their life’s experience and their relationship to the client. Spirit is also not always so cooperative in sitting still for very long, so drawing them certainly has its challenges. Most show themselves only fleetingly, others not at all and prefer to impress themselves upon me instead – somewhat like automatic writing.

But then there are those encounters when the richness of detail leaves me awe-struck. The intensity of Spirit is so powerful that their presence is unmistakable and simply undeniable. These are truly some of the most miraculous, moving and indeed, most spiritual experiences I have been blessed to be a part of in my work as a medium. 

This holiday season, my wish for you is that you may experience the miracle and the love of spirit. Know that they are with you sharing all of the joyous moments and wrapping their arms around you during times of heartache and strife.

​Peace,

Joe

© 2019-2020 Joseph P. Shiel III

Categories

All
Newsletters