My Mother’s Day gift came a little late this year; or rather, I had to wait a few months to use it. My children went together and bought me tickets to listen to author and psychic Sylvia Browne talk about her books, her psychic ability, and about life in general.
She spoke July 10 at the Moon Bar at the Diamond Joe Casino in Dubuque. I was thrilled when my daughter, Lori, said that she wanted to go. Like me, she thought it sounded interesting and wanted to see what she was like in person.
I was first introduced to Sylvia when I bought her book, “Lessons for Life,” at a Goodwill Store (a great place for used books!). It looked brand new and I was intrigued by the title. How could such a small book, 136 pages, contain what I needed to learn about life?
I knew of Sylvia Browne; she had been on the Montel Williams Show long before John Edward appeared on the late-night TV screen, conversing with spirits from “the other side.” However, I had always been a bit skeptical of her psychic abilities. Was she for real?
But I found her books to be extremely interesting. They were about Sylvia’s life, how she met her spiritual guide, Francine, and what she has learned about life and “the other side.”
The one thing that Sylvia always writes in her book, (and also mentioned when she spoke in Dubuque) was, “Take what you want and leave the rest,” which she said means that if we find something we can use, great. If not, that’s OK, too.
I have found Sylvia’s books to be fascinating reading, but it still leaves me wondering, is it be possible to communicate with the dead? Do we really go to another place after we die? A place where life is perfect, where there’s no negativity, and we’re all 30? Is our life here on Earth for the purpose of learning lessons that we take back to the other side and teach others what we’ve learned?
I guess that all depends on what an individual chooses to believe. In all honesty, I’m still exploring that realm.
But Lori and I did have an interesting time listening to Sylvia. She sat in as easy chair on the make-shift stage in the bar and those who had an extra ticket to ask a question, lined up on either side. There was also a drawing for those who didn’t have that extra ticket, but unfortunately, Lori and I were a few minutes late and lost out on that one, too.
Nevertheless, the questions were very interesting, and included one man who asked if his business would thrive. She told him, “You’ve always been able to pull the rabbit out of the hat at the last minute. You’ll be fine.”
One woman asked if she would ever find happiness, to which Sylvia replied, “Yes, but you have it find it inside yourself.”
OK, that one was a given, but Sylvia did answer questions that were specific to that individual. In the middle of the questions, Sylvia stopped and asked if anyone knew a Tom or a Thomas, who had died with a head injury. A girl raised her hand and Sylvia told her to go to the microphone. “He’ll drive me crazy if I don’t acknowledge you,” she said, to which the audience chuckled nervously.
The girl said that her friend Tom had been killed in a car accident a few months ago and she had recently dreamt of him. “He wants me to tell you he’s OK,” said Sylvia. Lori and I looked at each other wide-eyed, and though we didn’t say anything, I think we thought the same thing. “Did that just happen?”
While we waited in line to have my book signed, Lori asked me, “What question would you ask her if you could?”
I thought a long time about it, and finally answered,” I’m not sure I’d want to know anything. What fun is life if you know what’s going to happen?”
It also made me wonder how many of the nearly 100 people, who had the chance to ask a question, will use the information Sylvia gave them. To many of them, she gave hope. Some, she gave closure, and still others, the opportunity for acceptance. How many will actually abide by her suggestion to lose weight, get medical attention, or practice patience?
I’m not sure I’d want the power to see the future, even if it was someone else’s. What if it was something unpleasant? I don’t think I’d like being the bearer of bad news.