Owls and Orchids

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“Happiness lies ahead for those who cry; those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.”   Anon

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I pick up just after the first tour with Cherylane. During the two week hiatus I recuperated and alternately dreaded the next tour. She called, complaining about Robyn but not willing to do anything. I didn’t feel inclined to be too nice.

The next tour went well. Everything followed the same pattern as before. Each show was great, book sales going well and a full house. On one particular night, she heaped insult on insult, adding to injury as they say. In the audience was a very well known psychic with whom I had worked  through Hay House.  A lovely person, a very kind and gentle man. When she saw us talking she motioned me to go to her.  She then demanded to know who he was, insisting I bring him back to her “room” at the venue so she could speak with him, in private, after I introduced her. She went on to do several tours with him at a later date as a result of that introduction. She also told me I wasn’t to speak with him again…. very interesting. (Another gentle pointer).

That tour finally ended and we made it back to Brisbane. I had two weeks to recover before the next tour. I needed every minute of every day just to recover enough to face the next onslaught.

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Each tour was an almost identical repeat of the first and I was getting really tired of the language, being treated like a servant and frankly not really well paid for what I was doing. My back and neck were suffering from hauling more and more books around, being perpetually cold and not eating enough. Then came the show that caused a major crisis. We were at Mildura, it was freezing and neither of us had enough warm clothes.

However, after the show, the audience didn’t want to leave. The club finally asked us to leave so they could close up – smart people! Everyone who hadn’t received a message wanted to talk to her, just in case someone came through. I can’t hazard a guess at what she was thinking, normally it was “no money – no ‘show'”. So, here we are in the parking lot, no coats, freezing our butts off so she could… pretend she was caring and concerned, whilst I huddled near the car because she had the keys and wouldn’t make eye contact with me. Was I stupid, I guess so. (Another not so subtle hint). However, in my opinion, she wasn’t caring or concerned, every person had their names and addresses collected and payment details to buy her book.  Very late, freezing cold and feeling ill we finally got back to the motel which was like a freezer chest.

The next morning I awoke with a cold which caused an eruption of major proportions. Swearing and cursing at me because I might make her ill I was told to stay as far away from her as possible, get plenty of flu medication and wear a mask. A wonderful start. A fortune in medication which made me so dopey I couldn’t drive earned me another mouthful of abuse. We arrived at our next motel and followed the preset pattern. It went very well, as they all did. Jekyll and Hyde had nothing on her.

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The tension was palpable as we arrived at the cold motel. Dinner was a few crackers, a shared can of salmon and tomatoes.  Not the fare to warm you up or even keep the wolf from the door, but by then I felt too miserable to care. I just wanted this to be over with. I seriously thought of going home.  I could feel the energies swirling round. I was getting fairly good at picking them up, even though the teaching she promised had never eventuated. Thoroughly disillusioned I crept outside to call my friend, the psychic I had originally introduced her to. I needed some clarification in relation to her odd behaviour every night which flew in the face of everything I knew. (You can turn off the connection when you need to, such as when you sleep!) Everything I thought was confirmed. I didn’t say I was working with Cherylane although I’m sure he knew. However, it could never be said that I had directly accused her of anything.

The rest of the tour progressed in frost silence unless we needed to talk. It was more than uncomfortable. It was an immense relief to get back home. Once home again I spent most of my time in bed, getting well and ready for the next tortuous trip. My decision to talk to Cherylane and find a solution or an end to this madness was solidifying.

At last I was acknowledging that I deserved much better treatment. I did my part of the work well and I could talk to the audience members about spiritual matters, after all I did have a PhD in Metaphysics. Whether I was ready to admit it or not I was psychic and getting better all the time, I just didn’t get the encouragement which would have let me see that. Not that it appeared to count for much with Cherylane. Yet to me it meant I wasn’t a rank novice and I knew what I was talking about – and picking up from the people there.

The two weeks flew past and we were off again with even more books. The days passed in a blur of tension, but dragging along at the same time. The evenings were hectic until the show finished. I think I wore a hole in my shoe from running the microphone so much. (Just one more little task for me to occupy my unfilled time). Two days into the last week she came bursting out of her room, in an absolute fury. We were in separate rooms thankfully.  She had spoken with ‘our’ friend and was suspicious that I had been speaking with him. I was told that I was forbidden to speak with him whilst I worked for her, that they were planning a tour together and it had nothing to do with me. (Lesson number three and I was listening!)

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I decided I was going to talk to her once we got back and tell her that she could find someone else to do the shows with her. I had a beautiful soft explanation, rather than telling her she was an absolute bitch, so full of her own importance she couldn’t relate to anyone as well as having the morals and vocabulary of a fish wife, or an alley cat, but the cat has a reason for being cranky. I decided to wait because i refused to be accused of doing anything to mar the trip or the shows.

Beaten to the punch yet again, on the way home she announced that “This wasn’t working out. It was costing too much having to have separate rooms and she would have to let me go. She would get back in touch when finances were better and we could start again.”  (Shades of Anya but at least I had been paid something). This was delivered a few minutes before we reached my home where I was going to tell her the same thing.

Was it relief or disappointment that I hadn’t been the one to pull her up short? It doesn’t really matter. I had made the decision to leave and I felt a surge of approval from Spirit. Even though she said the words to end our association, I had already decided to do just that.

My time of working with another psychic was well and truly over.

Next week, A new circle and tragic news.

Blessings, Susan xx

© Susan Jamieson