Psychic Children: God's Eternal Miracle – Part 2

Taken from the book Psychic Children by Sylvia Browne & written with Lindsay Harrison

Following on from yesterday’s post, more about Psychic Children.

We Incarnate with specific goals in mind and to ensure our success we write an incredibly create specific, meticulously detailed chart, planning every aspect of our trip to earth. Yes, we literally write a chart, on parchment scrolls, in Aramaic, our native tongue on the other side. In that chart we choose our parents and siblings. Which is exactly what we’ll look like. We choose the place, date and even the time of our birth our E, we even map out our own astrology charts before we come. We choose our friends, lovers, spouses, children, coworkers, enemies, passing acquaintances and post life reacquaintance. We choose our career paths and our missteps, our various moves throughout our lives, our health fluctuations and crises, our best and worst character traits, our talents, our area of weakness and incompetence and a special mental and physical challenges. There is not a single bit of trivia we overlook in our chart as we ensure our success on this brief visit to earth. And the more difficult the chart, the more advanced the spirit who wrote it. Please, please never look at another physically or mentally challenged person, child or adult, and think God is punishing them, or that it’s a sign of bad, from past lives catching up with them. Remember that they had the courage and exceptional spiritual insights to choose those challenges themselves, for some great purpose in this life and regard them with the highest respect.

We choose our spirit guide from among the spirits around us on the other side before we depart for earth, to be our constant companion, helpmate and life coach while we’re here.

We recruit the specific angels who will watch over us with special attention, although the whole powerful legion of angels from all eight levels of that sacred, singular species is around us all and protecting us all throughout our lifetimes.

We even choose a totem which is a member of the vast animal Kingdom on the other side that we ask to guard us and comfort us on our rough journey. Never doubt that animals are held in utterly reverent esteem at home and we wouldn’t dream of leaving without one of those pure, unflinchingly loyal spirit creatures at our side.

And finally, off to an audience with our Messiah and a brief, divine glimpse of Azna, the materialised presence of the mother God, we lie down on a smooth, comfortable table in a room in the towers, where we are eased into a twilight sleep.

During which, to quote Angelia, we get little.

To summarise, then, in the simplest possible terms: every child born on earth is psychic because they arrive directly from the spirit world of the other side. They’ve turned to the spirit world because they’ve just been part of it. It’s no more peculiar than our being most familiar with and most easily recognising, the people and language of our hometown for quite some time after we’ve moved on.

And of course, just as we inevitably adapt to new surroundings after we’ve left the familiar comfort of home, children inevitably make the transition from the spirit world and acclimate themselves to the gravity challenged confines of living in a human body on earth. Some will maintain a conscious connection to the spiritual world throughout their lives and grow into psychic adults. Others will gradually lose that connection before they reach puberty and forget it ever existed. There is no average age at which a child either hits some kind of psychic peak, begins to lose their spiritual connection, or decides to retain it into adulthood. Every child is unique, every child’s progress is unique and every child’s chart is unique. The one common bond you can count on is that every one of them is psychic because they’re still more a part of the spirit world they’ve just left behind then they are a part of this world on earth. All the adults you know, all the adults you see around you were once psychic children. You were once a psychic child, Whether or not you remember it or ever communicated it to anyone around you.

Throughout this book, by the way, you’ll be reading letters from parents, relatives and friends of sakic children and you may notice that a lot of the psychic children referred to are three years old. Please don’t get the mistaken impression that the majority of children are at their most psychic when they are free. The only reason the age of three comes up as often as it does is that most 3 year old children are simply better able to cohesively verbalise their thoughts than they could when they were younger. If and when a child’s ability peaks, fades away or continues into adulthood isn’t determined by averages or median ages. It’s determined by the actually unique chart they wrote before they came here.

So now, in addition to knowing what’s been going on in the eternal life of the supposed blank slate called a newborn in the hours and eons before you caught your first glimpse of it, you also know why I have a hard time keeping a straight face in any heated genetics versus environment debate. Every child, including you when you were an infant, chose each minute detail of each circumstance of their lifetime to propel a meticulously orchestrated agenda while they’re here. There’s nothing haphazard about it, or about anything in God’s creation, no mysterious fluctuating percentage of genetics and environments that’s invariably a euphemism for we don’t have a clue, no whimsy or luck of the draw. One illegitimate child grows up to be Leonardo da Vinci, one of the most brilliant artists, inventors, teachers and scholars the world has ever known. Another illegitimate child grows up to be Ted Bundy, one of history’s most prolific serial killers. One abusive father raises the genius composer Ludwig Van Beethoven. Another abusive father raises John Wayne Gacy, who killed 33 young men and boys before he was executed. Why? Because da Vinci, Bundy, Beethoven, Gacy and all the rest of us carefully dictated the genetics, environment and countless other factors that would satisfy our unique destinies not the other way around.

If you’re familiar with my work at all, you’re aware that I don’t pull any punches with any of you. And I’m sure that’s why many of you refuse to put any punches let me either. Which is one of countless reasons that an e-mail from a woman named Janie meant the world to me and why I’m so eager to share excerpts of it with you at this particular moment in this chapter. I’ll dictate it to you all you just read the above account of our lives at home and dismissed it as the most inane, improbable bunch of blather you’ve ever heard:

I’ve read sylvia’s books for years, but I’ve always had difficult time with her description of the other side and I finally put her books away. I hadn’t given it any thought again until my father died a year ago. In my grief I still didn’t reach for those books, but I was desperately searching for some kind of comforting sign.

Shortly after my father’s death I took my 12 year old son, Stuart, shopping, trying to distract him because he was suffering the same loss as I was. As we wrote along in the core I asked him as casually as I could where he believed granddad was. Stuart had attended Catholic school since he was five years old and I expected to hear a few words about heaven or hell, nothing more.

Instead he instantly became so excited and nervous that he couldn’t sit still. He had said he knew where granddad was, but he wasn’t supposed to know any of this, wasn’t supposed to tell and didn’t even know how he knew from it that it was coming from somewhere else and not from him. He then started telling me all about it talking a mile a minute, and I wrote it all down in the minute we got home, if only to let him know that I was taking him seriously and cared very much what he had said. I put it away in a journal I was keeping of signs from my dad since his passing and left it there.

Many months later are turned on the TV and there was Sylvia on the Montel Williams show. I didn’t pay much attention until I heard her say something about a grassy Meadow where we first arrived on the other side. It rang A faint bell, although I wasn’t sure why and I eventually ended up digging out my journal and reading Stuart ‘s words again.

The more I read the more I knew I had to get out sylvia’s book laugh on the other side, that I’d found so unbelievable. I was amazed when I compared sylvia’s description with Stuarts. Here is what I wrote down that day in my son’s own words:

When you go you go see a grassy Meadow.

It is another world like our world and it’s right beside us.

We wait there until God says it’s OK, then we come back as another body and do it over and over again.

We have physical bodies here and spiritual bodies there. The atoms and molecules are different.

They can see us but we can’t see them.

They can come to us in dreams. Grandad comes to you in dreams.

We can see them sometimes in the shadows like when dad sees a shadow in the corner of his eye.

Granddad is a Carpenter there like he was here. He builds bird houses.

From what you are there you bring your skills here. When you go back you can be the best there at what you do

there is no religion there; There is a temple where everyone goes.

We stay the same age

when people here see the person they knew they’re the same age you remember them.

We come here to learn fully we take back what we learn to God.

We can have whatever kind of house we want.

We are not supposed to remember all of this. There is no hell.

God accepts everyone’s. He didn’t learn that in Catholic school!

Granddad is right here with you wherever you go. He follows you around.

If all that wasn’t enough to make me think I had misjudged sylvia’s book, I remembered what I thought was maybe the most ridiculous statement in life on the other side and decided to ask Stuart about it.

I asked him where this place heaven, or the other side, was. I pointed at the ceiling and asked if it was up there. He said no, it was here and he held his hand up just past his knees. I tried not to act surprised and said, oh it’s off the ground? And he said, yes, about three feet.

It’s nearly a year since my son shared all that information and I’m sad to say that he remembers very little of it. He did say a few months ago that granddad was reborn as a little boy in China, but I told him to stop being ridiculous. Maybe this time he was making it up.

Remember, Janie, you put your life on the other side away because you thought it was ridiculous and that I was making it up. Then your son confirmed it all, with no help from me. Since that somehow failed to keep the word ridiculous out of your vocabulary, let me return the favour for Stuart: your father was reborn as a boy in China a few months ago you owe your son an apology.