(These posts are "strange but true" stories from my daily life. Names are sometimes changed or not mentioned, to protect privacy.  This post is long because, after having had so many patients with such terrible stories, this specially touched my heart.  I hope you'll see why.)

When I heard three gentle knocks at the door, I didn't realise the terrible tears and loving laughter to follow. A pretty young girl of about 20 stood there, downcast.  Her long, reddish brown hair was uncombed, her tops and jeans needed repairs and washing.  'May I come in please,' she said solemnly. 

'Why?' I asked. 

'Because I've searched the internet. Only you can help me.'

She's in genuine need. 'Come in,' I said in a kind voice.  Some have travelled from other countries for my help.  She looks hungry.  'I was just dishing up dinner. Would you like half?' 

'No thank you.' 

I saw hunger in her eyes, ignored her protests, went to the kitchen and returned with two plates of steaming stew.  She ravished the meal like a pack of hungry lions. 

As she licked the last drips from her lips, her eyes saddened.  'I need help,' she said.  'I'm the oldest of nine children.  They wait till we're 8.  On our 8th birthday, mum and dad let us smoke marijuana...'  Tears appeared.  'From the age of 6 they forced me to dress my brothers and sisters, and make their breakfast, and babysit when they went to the pub.  They yelled if I complained.  And hit me.  I was so afraid.'  Tears of fear fell.  'I escaped home at 16 to live with my boyfriend.  He beat me up.  I couldn't go back to my parents, so for three years he beat me up, even in the street, or supermarkets in front of people.  Look...'  She pointed to pock-marks on her face.  'Scars...  from when he hit me...'  

Floods of tears wet her top...  I passed a tissue and listened silently Samaritan style, with reflective body language, facial expressions and sounds, to facilitate off-loading her past.    

As she spoke she sobbed.  Some words I only just heard.  'When I was 19 I left him, but had no-where to go.  So I slept rough on the beach for two years.  I was homeless.  People don't treat you well if you're homeless.'         

I just nodded. I used to take homeless people into my home, and heard many horror stories.  

'While sleeping rough, I decided to change my life.  I went to a library with free internet, and applied to study at the top art and fashion design college in London.  They asked for my portfolio.  I didn't have one, didn't have anything.  I was still sleeping rough on the beach, with no money.  So I stole an art book and glue.  They caught me.  But when I told them I was homeless and applying for art college, they let me keep it.'  Her face lightened, like a faint rainbow appearing from a dark cloud.   

Tears came to my eyes. This girl had guts, determination, inner strength.  'That was wonderful for you,' I said.

''Yes it was.  I took the art book and glue to where I slept on the beach.  I glued designs of sand, stones, and driftwood.  But I had nothing to write with, so I mashed seaweed to make different coloured inks, and broke shells to make different sized pens.'  

Wow.  This girl is amazing.  

'The college accepted me!"  She smiled a beautiful smile.  

'So why aren't you at college?' I asked.

'Because they wanted £3,000 and I didn't even have £3.'

Gosh, the trials of humanity.    

'So I went to the library again, and googled ways to get £3,000.  I filled in loads of forms, and a charity agreed to give me the money.  I've got £3,000 for college!'  She beamed like the sun had just entered her heart.  

'You've done brilliantly,' I said, 'doing all that while homeless. But if you have the money for a place at college, why do you need me?'  

'Because my past has damaged me.  I can smile, but can't laugh.  I haven't laughed for three years.  Can you heal my past please.  Can you take away the hurts of my childhood, and of being hit and having my face damaged?'

'I can't promise, but will try,' I said.  Gosh, if ever there was a deserving case...  I'd so love to help this girl, fast.  

In my clinic, I use a range of therapies for mood and anxiety disorders.  Thank God I chose the right one.  Soon, dark lines of energies drifted from her chest and brain like ribbons being untied and thrown away.    

As the last dark ribbon departed she laughed, naturally.  A low gurgling giggle at first, rising to a pitch of golden angels. Angelic laughter sounds leapt from her throat, like being released from imprisonment, to lighten the air, and everything around. 

Ten minutes later, laughter became a grin.  'If you come again tomorrow,' I said, 'I'll assess what else you need.'

''I won't need healing tomorrow,' she said as she bounced out of the door.  'I feel great.  That's my first laughter in three years.  Thank you sooooooo much.'  She hugged me tight.  'I'll come and see you tomorrow anyway.  We'll always be friends.'   

A young lady stopped me in Margate shopping centre, and asked for £1.75.  'What are you doing with your life,' I asked.  

She shook her blonde hair backwards.  A lilac stud glistened on her tongue.  'Trying to save the world.' 

'What, all of it?  Shouldn't you choose a niche?'

'I have.  If you give £1.75 a month, you can help keep gorillas alive on this planet.  "The Aspinall Foundation" saves gorillas and endangered species.'

Studs on tongues often show a naughty side, but her energy was purity and love.  'So nice to meet an angelic soul,' I said.  

'I'm no angel.'  

'Agreed, you're an imperfect young lady, and a bit naughty.'  She smiled, almost happy that I'd recognised she wasn't perfect.  'But that's life at your age, learning angelic lessons on the mountain of life.  You'll learn enough lessons to be an angel one day.'

She smiled sweetly, and said simply, 'I know.'  Then added with conviction, 'I WILL save the world.' 

Her angel's beauty and words touched my gorilla's heart and mind.  I'll sign up to her worthy angelic cause, and pray you could spread this good word too...        
http://www.aspinallfoundation.org/aspinall/adopt-an-animal

She said she'll contact me, to click on my book, Angels on Earth.  I do hope so.  The world needs happy young souls like hers to spread love on the bread of life.     

Regular readers may remember I met Gaynor on the Caribbean Cruise, when she kindly invited me to join lecturers at her "Halo Retreat".  See: http://www.nickyalan.co.uk/halo/hr_ad.html

Today I visited her London shop. Brilliantly impressive!  It's called 'Miracles and Magic', and lives up to its name.  See: www.miraclesandmagicbexleyheath.co.uk  

If ever I had a shop, it would be exactly like this!  Spiritual, healing, and psychic books and artefacts intrigue from every nook and cranny.  There's spaces for psychic readings, a room for healing, and a coffee shop at the back selling yummy cakes made with love.  The shop was crowded with people buying goods, drinking coffee, and booking sessions.  Joyful staff fed smiles to all who entered.  Here is a community spirit of angels and love, helping locals in need, bringing miracles and magic into their lives.   

One lady played a 'tarot' game with her husband over coffee.  It was designed by Gaynor and her friends.  As the couple were about to leave Gaynor asked, 'Are you pregnant?'  

'Yes,' the lady replied, surprised.  'How did you know?'  

'I see the baby around you,' Gaynor replied.

Sad tears fell to the lady's cheeks.  'We lost the last one,' she cried.

'You won't lose this one,' Gaynor said.  'The baby's with you.  It will be all right.'

Happy tears joined the sad ones.  The lady looked at her husband and they smiled happily as they left.  

Gifted mediums like Gaynor see wonders that most people will never understand, let alone ever see.     

If you're in the area, pop in.  It's worth the trip.  Who knows, a miracle or piece of magic might enhance your life too! 

These blog posts are often strange.  They offer teachings for enlightened souls, or those who wish to become enlightened.  

'Suddenly, last night, we felt huge protection was needed.' Sandra was on the phone, talking of her mediumship circle. 'We asked every master and guide above for big-time protection.   And prayed to the angels to heal.  We knew the need unconsciously.'    

Sandra's a brilliant medium.  Very accurate.

'The hospital called today.  Our best friend was in a car crash.  It was just when we asked for protection.  She's injured, but safe.'  

Lucky not to be dead.  

'Hospital staff might think someone looked down on her, protecting her from death,' I said.  'Good job!'              

I don’t hate much in this beautiful world, but I almost hate office work.  It’s one of those boring, human necessities.  I'd rather be helping people.  I long for the day when everyone can read each other’s minds, and make paperwork obsolete.  So I was relieved when the phone rang.  

It was Agrousta, one of my students, a young Moslem lady therapist from Turkey.  She's done well to start a busy clinic healing emotions, including her own.  ‘You helped me a lot last year when I had all those awful emotions,' she said.  'Now all I have left is anger.  But I can’t get rid of it.  Can you wave your wand or something?’

She’s a case.  Often asking for help with tiny things.  But anger is her toughest lesson.  Bet it’s genetic.   ‘How long have you been angry?’

‘All my life.’

‘Does anyone else in the family have anger?’

‘Yes, most of us.’

‘So you’ve inherited anger genes?’

‘I didn’t think of it like that.’

That’s the problem with our world – people don’t think.  In her 30s and never thought why all her family has anger.  Some would say that's stupid? 

‘You’re an intelligent girl,' I said.  'If I waved my wand and cured the anger from all your past problems now, do you think that would stop your genes from recreating anger tomorrow or next week or whenever?’

‘No. Can’t you heal the genes?’

‘Not if you must learn your lesson, the opposite of anger.’  I’ll pause to let her think. 

‘So… I must learn about peace?’

‘Under all circumstances.’ 

‘Impossible.’

‘Simple.’

‘So how do I stop anger simply?’

‘Delete from your life the main thing that makes you angry.  The healing will ripple out.  Then you can practice peace.’

‘There isn’t anything specific that makes me angry.’

I can see her bedroom, red carpets, red wallpaper, and red duvet.  An angry red, everywhere… There’s an angry red in the lounge as well.  Some might say that's stupid too.   ‘What colour in your home would give you peace?’

‘Pastels.  Pinks or lilacs.’

‘And what colour could give you anger?’

‘Re… Oh…  I see.  My lounge and bedroom are both red.  That’s where I spend most of my time.  Red gives angry feelings doesn’t it?’

Phew, this is hard work sometimes.  ‘Yes, you see how simply you found how to have peace?’

Agrousta sighed a yes as she put the phone down.

She was hard work, but easy compared to office paperwork.  Ah well, back to boredom.  I hope the phone rings again. 

Yesterday Tony, my cousin, questioned the effectiveness of Reiki.  Today I met him at my father's bungalow on the cliff-top overlooking Westgate Bay.  After I'd shared buffet food from the writing conference I'd had fun at earlier, and the three of us had cheered Manchester United's 1-2 away win at Arsenal, Tony reignited the conversation.  'I do trust doctors,' he said.  

'And so we should for many conditions,' I replied.  'But what can doctors really do for asthma, eczema, back pain, arthritis, rheumatism, migraine, and countless other chronic conditions?'  

'Not much, except give drugs that often damage the patient.'

'Exactly.'  Tony's a highly intelligent, logical man.  He may appreciate stats.  'But did you know healers have worked in doctors' surgeries?  Research shows healers help up to 81% of those chronic conditions doctors can't help!'  

'Really?'  

'And did you know similar research in different doctors' surgeries with different healers, shows some healers help only 71 or 72% of the patients doctors can't help?'

'Still good results.'  His intelligence means he accepts stats fast.   

'There's vast research out there.'  I mentioned research doctors names, and offered research links. 'Here's one of the first studies, begun in 1994.'    
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1296636/pdf/jrsocmed00026-0013.pdf  
'Dr Michael Dixon showed 81% of patients improved with healing, compared with the non-healing control group who mainly either stayed the same or needed more medication.'  

'I see,' said Tony.  I believe he did see, and hope others see this link, and quote it to others too...   

The full-day writing conference run by Jane Wenham-Jones and Maggie Harris was successful.  Chocolate eclairs were amazing!  They had to be.  "Mrs Corbys Tea Rooms" always offer high class old-fashioned food and good service.  You taste special ingredients in all her food - KINDNESS and LOVE!  Which is maybe why she won a 2011 tourism award and cafe employee of the year.  See www.corbystearooms.co.uk/reviews.php   This isn't tongue-in-cheek - it was tongue around the lips.

But to drag myself away from the cream cakes, the writing day produced significant applause at the end.  Over 20 budding writers had been egged on their literary careers in gentle, caring ways, and asked me about publishing their eBook for them.  I was pleased that Jane's hilarious book, "Wannabe a Writer?", sold out.  As did Maggie's insightful book, "Kiskadee Girl", on Caribbean life.   

My recent Caribbean adventures still turn up "co-incidences".  On the cruise I met Gaynor, who asked me to lecture at her April conference.  At today's event, I met one of her friends, who will also lecture there.  As they say, it's a small world, connecting us in ways we may only imagine. 

Perhaps I could pop down our writing tasks, to give a non-chocolate eclair flavour of the day?  

First, we had to write the opening of a book.  So the following may open Book 2 in my trilogy, "The Cosmic Corporation". (Book 1 is downloadable from the homepage.)  

"It was another one of those Monday mornings.  Michael hopped out of bed, smiling as usual.  Another happy day to look forward to, he thought.  His eyes sparkled like see-through azure sea.

"Texts and emails showed his first jobs.  A lady abused by her husband wants to kill him.  A mother whose child is out of control wants to throw him out.  And a couple whose baby died have entered a suicide pact. 

"Hmm, which to help first...

"As Michael started his God-given tasks for the day, he combed his sun-blonde curls, and unfurled his pale blue wings..."

Next we wrote 12 poetic lines about our family in 10 minutes, repeating part of the first line.  Here's my attempt.  

Mum (Channing) and dad (Sweeney) 
(a tongue-in-cheek poem of personal 'memories')

Channings made cakes to die for;
Sweeneys meals made you want to die.                     

Channings loved kids, as many as their stomachs could hold;
Sweeneys made kids their life purpose, but couldn’t stomach them.

Channings were Jews, but prayed to be atheists;
Sweeneys loved business, and saved pennies like Jews.

Channings were mostly happy, and gentle;
Sweeney’s almost learned genteel happiness.

Channings played games, sung and had fun;
Sweeneys fun came through games of life.

Channings taught lessons of nature;
Sweeneys fraught lessons of nurture.

(Tongue-in-cheek.  Really!)

‘I’ve been reading about healing and Reiki,’ Tony said.  ‘There are countless systems, but it doesn’t matter which you learn.’

We sat outside a beach café near our homes, on curved Westgate Bay.  Wind-surfers’ coloured sails leapt to the sky above white foam seas.  It was cold, windy, and beautiful.     
( See http://www.northdowns.plus.com/kentcoast/images/minnismargate/minnismargate-006.html )  My grandmother had 13 children; they each had 3 or four.  Our families would take over a local beach or park with football, baseball, cricket etc.  Sunny days meant happy daze.  Tony is one of my 40+ cousins.  He’s spiritual in nature, and philosophical in mind.  ‘It doesn’t matter which Reiki you learn,’ he repeated, ‘because they all get the same results.’

‘I agree,’ I replied.  'Many "different" systems with different names are not much different.  They just regurgitate other teachings.  But some teachings are truly different, with better results for some illnesses.’

‘That’s not what I read.  I haven’t found better results anywhere.’

A towering wave surged towards the wind-surfers.  Just before the wave hit, they somersaulted high, hanging in the air under parachutes.  After the wave passed, they landed on calmish water like a small flock of birds.  But the wave hit one wind-surfer.  He floundered in the sea, struggling to pull the sail up again.

‘That’s the analogy,’ I said.  ‘Not all wind-surfers get great results.  Some can’t somersault.  Some sink.  Some give up because results aren’t good compared to others.'  

‘It’s the same in everything,’ Tony said.  ‘Some plumbers get bad results, so do some landscape gardeners, even some doctors.  My local doctor has bad results.’

Two more wind-surfers floundered badly.

‘Maybe it’s about trust,’ Tony continued.  ‘Trust is the second greatest gift we can give someone.  The first is love.  But love without trust is not perfect love.  How can I love and trust a Reiki healer to be better than other therapies?’

‘Check academic research?’ I suggested.  ‘Find validated outcomes.  You’ll see not every system achieves identical results.’

‘And your system...?’

‘It’s unethical to discuss cures with patients.  But I try to cure where possible.  After over 30 years in this field, I can’t help some conditions.  Others I may philosophise on an approach.  But others, I’m confident on curing.  I have better results than orthodox medicine with, for example, emotions, depression, ADHD, grief, PTSD, fractures, even some cancerous tumours.’ 

‘So I need to love, and trust, you?’ Tony asked.

‘Trust comes from experience or research.  If you experience a plumber's great job, you trust.  If a terrible job, you don’t trust.  Or, you research his results before you employ him.  With me you can see before and after X-rays of fractures I’ve resolved, letters from patients whose tumours shrank, PhD research that over 90% of ADHD children are helped inside three weeks.  And so on…’

‘I trust doctors,’ Tony said.

That's the therapy world.  Why isn't academic research trusted evidence for intelligent minds?  Perhaps few people want to know where to look. Trust truly is the second greatest gift.  As if in agreement, as we said goodbye, trusted parachutes danced in the sky. 

Love for a landlord rarely lasts in most tenants.  But Natalie and Ted are rare.   They are tenants in one of my properties, and made of total love.  They’d invited me to dinner for the seventh time. ‘I know a tenant shouldn’t invite a landlord to dinner,’ Natalie said, ‘but we look on you as a friend.’ 

‘Me too you,’ I agreed.  ‘It felt uncomfortable at first, but you’re such beautiful people it’s good to be here.’ 

I tucked into a huge English roast dinner, with seven vegetables.  ‘We like the number seven,’ said Natalie.  ‘It reminds us of God.’

‘This house reminds us of God too,’ Ted said.  ‘The energies you left here are peace and love.  Everybody coming here feels happy.’

‘Yes,’ I said.  ‘That’s just how it is.  If you’re house-hunting, different houses may feel angry, sad, or depressed.  Previous owners leave behind energy imprints of their lives.’

‘You left an imprint of peace and love,’ Ted said.  ‘This house has made me a better person.  Before, I tried to be love but got angry sometimes.  I can’t be angry here.  The love and peace of the house just takes over.’

I’ve heard this before. ‘Yes,’ I repeated.  ‘That’s just how it is.’ 

‘And the books you left made us better persons too.’

‘Great.  They’re classic self-help books.  It’s a shame more people don’t read such books.’

‘The books helped us understand everyone can feel energy.’

‘Not everyone,’ I said.  ‘I’ve had about 12,000 students, and two couldn’t.  One became a fabulous teacher of energies.  She couldn’t feel energy, but trusted, and achieved great results.  It’s not feeling energy that’s important.  It’s getting good results or not.’

They’re leaning towards me, deeply interested.  Here we go.  Impromptu teaching… ‘Stand up,’ I said.  ‘Hold your hands shoulder width apart with palms facing each other.  Tell me, what sensations can you feel in your hands?’

‘There’s cool on the outside of the left hand,’ Natalie said.  ‘And heat in the centre.  The right hand feels mostly electric, with coolness in the two smallest fingers.’

Wow!  Experts rarely feel so precisely, let alone a beginner.  She could be brilliant.  ‘You’re not bad,’ I said.  I’ll double-check if she’s a maestro or not…

Ted shook his hands.  ‘I felt burning heat,’ he said.  ‘And a bit of a breeze.’

Wow again!  He could be brilliant too.  ‘You’re not bad either.’   I'll double-check him as well.   They both beamed happily.  ‘Now bring your hands slowly together, and say if you feel sudden changes, such as sudden cool, heat, or electric.  We’re made of electro-magnetism, so you may sense the electric side of the spectrum.’  They look excited.  ‘Or,’ I continued, ‘you might feel pushing or pulling from the magnetic side.’

They called out in astonishment.  ‘Cold spot…’  ‘My hands can’t move, there’s a barrier.’  ‘Electric shock…’  ‘Burning heat…’  ‘There’s a ball between the hands…’  And so on…  Their expressions were of sheer delight.  

They are both amazing.  ‘You’re both quite good,’ I said.  ‘With amazing potential…’  They could do much for our world.  ‘Shall I teach more, each time we have dinner?’


I love chocolate.  But the yummy Belgian chocolate desert was less of a pleasure than helping two such gorgeously loving, and potentially brilliant, souls.  

‘My brother’s giving me £10,000 to start a new business,’ Masa said on the phone.  ‘Can you advise me?  I want to open a shop selling Serbian and English foods.’

Terrible idea, I thought.  ‘Good idea,’ I said. 

We discussed it over coffee.  Masa is a loving Serbian man, with a loving Serbian wife and children.  Rich in love and family, he’s poor in everything else.  He was excited.  ‘You used to be a business consultant, yes?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I said.  I was trained in a UK government scheme to help businesses start a new division or whatever. My first job was to start a conservatory division for a successful double-glazing manufacturer, from research and development to hiring workforce and designing brochures.  On my second day I told the MD his problems – he intended to offer a 10 year guarantee, but I found seals holding glass to frames only had a 5 year guarantee.  It helps to be psychic.  He offered me a directorship.     

‘So,’ Masa said, ‘can you help me?’

Hmm.  I charged £1,000 a day in the 1980s.  He’s poor but loving.  ‘Yes,’ I agreed.  ‘No charge.’

‘I need to know about licences for a shop, import duties for food from my country, and tax.’

‘OK,’ I said.  ‘But first let’s do approximate costings.’

‘I don’t want to do costings.  I just want to open the shop.’  

Oh dear.  A total business novice.  'I'll do costings anyway,' I said.  Ten minutes later, rough start-up and first year operating costs were on paper.  ‘It depends on the size of your shop,' I explained.  'It may cost more than your brother’s £10,000, just for property deposit, advance rent, stock, shelving, signage, vehicle etc.  If you want to open 11 hours a day, 7 days a week, your first year’s costs including staff is over £80,000.  If you don’t sell much fast, how will you survive if you only have £10,000 to start with?’

‘But my brother doesn’t mind if I lose the money.’

‘So what will you do if you go bankrupt?  Go on the dole again?’

‘A similar Polish-English food shop is successful.’

I folded the paper with rough costings and gave it to him.  ‘And three others have closed,’ I said.

Too many people starting businesses think like the Nike ad – they can ‘Just do it.’  Then go bankrupt.  Business consultancy tries to bring realism to dreams.  In this case, I suspect my free consultancy is outweighed by Masa's profitable dream.