Writer Poet Wordaholic
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Last updated: 06 Jun 2015
There are a plethora of books on the market about Mediumship. Not so many, however, that cover the more niche area of Physical Mediumship. This is where all who attend a demonstration can see and hear everything - it does not rely on the interpretation and presentation of the Medium alone. Of those that are in print, the vast majority are historical tomes.
It is refreshing, then, to stumble across this contemporary work. The author clearly wants to illustrate what it is like to be a Physical Medium. Warts and all.
Having worked in this area for over 40 years, he brings a wealth of knowledge to the page and effortlessly takes the reader with him as he recounts his experiences. A very enjoyable and readable book.
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For a moment, she had thought she was on the verge of waking up. But then she’d gone again, back into the warm arms of deepness. She was running. Not in fear, not from anything. Just jogging along. The road turning slowly into a grass track. To her right she thought she caught glimpses of blue sea and impossibly golden sand. To her left, cows grazed. Unfazed. The next second, she was jogging in the field between them. Large black and white Friesian grass cutters just intent on doing their job. They took no notice of her.
Rune was comfortable with the jogging. Maybe her subconscious mind was simply reminding her she needed to have more of a think about her exercise regime. Or, rather, complete lack of one. The chances were high that full-contact shopping didn’t actually constitute a sport.
It was pleasant though. Nice and warm. And sunny. And, oh, not so sunny. She hadn’t really noticed when she’d entered the wooded area. That she had was in evidence all around her. She glanced about quickly as she ran. Big trees. Denser trees. The path she was following began to meander more. Becoming a little harder to see and pick out. Her pace slowed a little. Everything was ok still. She knew she was dreaming, she was always aware of that when it happened. Although she couldn’t quite put her finger on when everything had turned to greyscale. The colour seemingly seeped out of her mind’s picture. Leaked and leeched and limped away.
It had become a little colder. A chill had settled into the place. Lack of sun? That would do it. All those shadows. Moving shadows? No. She was moving, although her steady jog had diminished to a slightly faster than walking trot. Picking her way a little more carefully on the twisty path. Avoiding tree roots. And clumps of arrogantly coarse grass. And brambles. And nettles. And somewhere in the back of her mind a question mark was being created.
She slowed to a walk. Out of the corner of her eye she was sure she saw some sort of movement. Fluctuation. Were the brambles growing as she walked? Inching towards her? Trying to out pace and encircle her? Her heart skipped a little beat. Shouldn’t she be waking up about now? …
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This will be a showcase for video work based around illustrating my spoken verse. Each piece will be an average of 3 to 5 minutes in length.
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