Wednesday 25 January 2012

I'm Not Spiritual, I'm Simon

Someone commented on a friend's wall on FB questioning why healers and mediums charge for their services. His argument was that spiritual teachers should teach through example and have faith that the universe will provide. He mentioned Buddha, monks, and shared a philosophical story about an old lady and a bag of precious stones.

The post was promoting one of my links, but I didn't join the fray. My friend and a couple of others spat chilli sauce in his eyes – she doesn't cook, so I was surprised she had some with her – and carved oi, oi, oi into his chest with a nail file, and he confessed that he had spent the last three years being fed and housed by strangers. He repaid those people by doing household chores and impersonating Oliver Twist, “Please Sir, I want some more.” In Australia, we call that free-loading, and if the chores aren't being done it's called raising teenagers.

My friend unfriended son of the highest, and in the spirit of, I beg therefore I am, he bombarded her inbox with accusatory messages. Sadly, this behaviour in varying degrees is common in the spiritual community. Come on, be honest. We've all talked about or judged another's behaviour. No one's innocent.

I appreciate that he thought I was a teacher, but he was mistaken to believe that I'm spiritual. I'm not, I'm Simon. By definition I work in a spiritual field, but I'll never confirm to the ideals of spirituality. I'm human. My views about spirituality and religion are the same: I won't suffer the guilt of not adhering to an impossible manmade and self-imposed dogma.

The business of spirituality is as cut throat as any other business. I've mingled with, and entertained hundreds of spiritual people, and it's rare to find genuine humility, compassion, honesty, and generosity. That rare breed will smile when they read this, the rest will chatter about the ego mind, not realising that that darkest of human traits – I feel sorry for Eddy Ego – is what's making their lips move.

I don't pretend to be anything I'm not, I'm perceived to be something I'm not. I'm the guy that people love or hate, there seems to be no middle ground, and I'm fine with that. I unsettle a lot of healers and spiritual people because I break all the 'rules'. I'm fine with that also.

There isn't a day or a healing that I'm not grateful for. I feel blessed that spirit has chosen me for this, and they did choose me. Sometimes I wonder if they chose the right person. I know that I'm an exceptional healer and teacher and every day I learn something new about myself, spirit, life, and healing.

I also live in a country where economy governs. No one called it an energy exchange when they payed me for unblocking their toilet. I'm still that guy. This guilt that everyone feels about charging for spiritual work needs to be quashed. Call it what it is: a business.

This isn't spiritual work, this is my career. Energy healing isn't a divine gift, it's not a gift at all, it's an example of potentiality, and that resides in all of us. This may be a tough observation to hear for someone who has studied a modality of energy healing, but the best healers I've found are those who've had no prior knowledge or interest in metaphysics or spirituality. You don't need a diploma to heal and communicate to spirit.

In this field accreditation doesn't guarantee professionalism or expertise. I'm sorry, it doesn't, and how do you accredit being spiritual? I regularly see savvy business people offering accreditation through universities and colleges they've created themselves. I could join a dozen organisations for a fee, and they all are worthless. It's a business people.

I'm in the business of story telling because that's all I'm certain of. This industry is filled with uncertainty, mystery and never ending questions: how, why, what? It's terrifying and liberating to not know. My life is filled with joy and wonder, and I'm not spiritual. I'm Simon.

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Monday 16 January 2012


M had two experiences with a spirit throwing a ball last week. The first was that a bouncy ball, the size of a soccer ball, was carried or kicked from the kids room down the hallway, a distance of 6m, and into our closed bedroom door. The other incident was that a tennis ball was thrown against the glass sliding door on the back patio. We live in a high-set, a two storey, home and the ball had been laying in the yard. M was home alone.

That is quite a feat for spirit to do. Not all spirits are capable of moving objects and the objects are usually small. It requires a lot of energy for spirits to move physical objects and the process is similar to telekinesis. They manipulate consciousness, the 'residue' energy of intention and action. I have children, they throw balls, so that energy is available for spirit to use. Potentiality. The energy of children is easier to connect with because their consciousness usually has less fear than an adults.

The spirit trying to get M's attention was a young boy. He wanted to go 'home – into the light. I don't often talk about this aspect of my work. Hollywood shows like Supernatural – man-crush on Dean – and Ghost whisperer have sensationalised the lost and damned. It's Hollywood people. There aren't thousands of spirits roaming our streets looking for hosts to terrify. Spirit brought the boy to me because spirit knows I can move him into the light. The balls were thrown to get my attention because I wasn't listening to my guide, Gegu. Essentially we're the light, whatever that may be. My intention to help a spirit makes the light visible – I'm not certain how spirits sense the light – and the spirit goes 'home'.

Most people react to spirits fearfully so they believe they are or their homes are haunted. The fear can create a haunting. This is not the same as a haunted location. In that situation an event or period of time can replay over and over. It's not always a spirit, but a 'slice' of consciousness. Yes, there are ghosts that choose to hang around or return to a location and this saddens me. If we heal a location or an event the vibration isn't present for the spirit to 'exist'.

By healing spirit, we're healing our souls and humanity. We're cleaning the field of consciousness.

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Saturday 7 January 2012

2012! I'm back … News & Updates

Happy New Year everyone! I hadn't intended to take a break from blogging, but I've not had the time or enthusiasm for it. I've also been quiet on FB and twitter. For most of my adult life I've never been settled over the holiday season. Bah humbug! It does my head in. Next year I'm going to book a cabin in a rain forest and holiday with Maree and the kids.

I'd planned to write, but the Grinch stole my muse. I dated and seduced the bastard, but to no avail. Finally, I surrendered and ate tim tams and watched favourite movies and cricket in my spare time. “Sorry writing career. It's not you, it's me.”

I did enjoy a night of karaoke over the holidays. Australia does have talent! 

I've had to postpone my events and healings in Chicago and Rochester. I apologise for the inconvenience. I want to thank everyone who shared a link on FB and twitter. US friends and supporters, I'll be back!

Thank you to everyone who came for a healing and reading in 2011. I'm grateful for your trust and faith.

2012, crazy start to the year. I haven't seen a zombie or a mummified Mayan yet, but I have noticed a lot of friends and colleagues are experiencing career changes and emotional turmoil. Me too! Lots of posts on FB, “Wow! Did you feel that.” Uhm, no. It's not that I'm cynical, I just don't react to lunar cycles or solar flares – big sigh! I am stockpiling canned food, water and Johnson's baby wipes, just in case the rapture grows a set and man's up.

A highlight of my break was going fishing with a friend and my son. We didn't catch anything, but we saw lots of beautiful critters. We also saw a snake in the water, schools of prawns and potty mullet. It was peaceful motoring down the creek and funny when the outboard wouldn't start. We paddled for thirty minutes, took a wrong turn in the labyrinth of mangroves and went in a circle. Thankfully the outboard started and we made it back to the boat ramp without loosing any Christmas cheer. “Dear Santa, abs, not slabs!” Never trust a man in red pants!

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