Margaret Anna is just one of those guardian angels who has changed my life forever. The fact that she was a real person, who actually existed in the ‘real world’ before her death in 1899, undoubtedly provided proof of the continuity of life. She is now sharing her wisdom with humans on earth, and I have no doubts about her existence. But life in spirit is something very different from life on earth, and Margaret Anna has been hugely influential in defining and explaining that world. I can’t hop in and out of the spirit world in order to carry back shoals of information. Fortunately, there are evolved and generous souls like Margaret Anna who want to lift the burden of fear from us by telling us what to expect when the time comes for us to move on. Through Margaret Anna and to a lesser extent my other guides I have learned a great deal about the ‘next life’.
By the time I came to write this book I had been used to the idea of Margaret Anna as one of my spirit guides for many years and I certainly wasn’t slow in asking for her help when I found myself, as I often did, in challenging situations. I didn’t bother waiting for answers. I just asked and trusted that the answers would come in their own good time, which they invariably did.
Collaborating with Margaret Anna on a book was a different, perhaps more immediate, type of experience. My communication with her wasn’t like having an ordinary conversation with another human being. She didn’t come and sit beside me and I didn’t see her or visualise her. (Later on I saw photographs of her in her older age, but at first I had no idea what she looked like.) The only way I can describe the communication is that I felt her presence – a warm, comforting, humorous sort of feeling – so I knew when the communication was happening and when it wasn’t. She wasn’t using words but, rather, conveying impressions to me that I expressed in my own words. It was a seamless type of experience that, I suppose, could be regarded as similar to telepathy, although that’s an inadequate description. Even though it would have been easier for me if I could have just written down words coming directly from her, it was more fulfilling for me to use my own words – and, of course, that helped me to raise my level of consciousness.
I was also reassured by the fact that she wouldn’t let me get away with any misinterpretations. How did I know this? I just did, in the same way that I knew when she was communicating with me and when she wasn’t. In our first session Margaret Anna conveyed that she’d like to talk about her own experience since she passed on. I could hardly wait to hear more about that. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that what happens after the death of the body is a ‘burning’ question; certainly it is for the people I have met over many years. I suggest that even the ‘when you’re dead, you’re dead’ brigade have some niggles of curiosity about it from time to time.
I personally didn’t have any doubts about the continuity of life. I never kept any records of my individual sessions with people, as it was vitally important for them that they could trust in the confidentiality of whatever transpired at our meetings, but occasionally something memorable emerged, which stayed in my mind. I didn’t have any particular agenda when people came to me; obviously, spontaneity was an essential ingredient in the whole process.
I preferred to concentrate on communication with guides, and to address career or relationship issues – or generally philosophical matters. But my meetings were always different, and the tone and the content were guided by the needs of my visitors, and the communication with the guides. In the early stages I actively hoped that messages from ‘dead’ relatives didn’t come through, mainly because I didn’t want to risk misleading anyone. I wanted to be absolutely sure that whatever connection I made in such a sensitive area was 100 per cent genuine. I suppose also that I didn’t fully trust my ability as a communicator. But some readings undoubtedly had a mediumistic element – where the communication was coming from a relative or friend of the person seeking the reading. The readings took place in an intimate setting (a small room) devoid of any distractions, the main feature being two comfortable chairs – one for myself and the other for the sitter. The duration of the readings was approximately two hours. What happened within those two hours was largely beyond my control.
Working with my guides was altogether different from trying to connect with somebody who might be totally new to that type of communication. But, as time went on, and almost in spite of myself, I got messages and information for many people from relatives or friends who had passed on. The nature of the information was such that there could be no doubt about the authenticity of the experiences. Sometimes what I was receiving from my contacts in spirit made no sense to me, but when I plucked up the courage to convey it to the people concerned it was invariably significant for them.
Two sessions in particular spring to mind. I have altered the names of the sitters to protect their identity. I don’t like the word ‘medium’ but, as I can’t think of a better alternative to convey the sense of a bridge between the physical and the spirit worlds, it will have to do.
Becoming a medium
One day, many years ago, I had an appointment with a woman called Josephine. While I was waiting for her at my home, a man’s name kept repeating over and over in my head. This was unusual for me, as I never asked for or received any advance information before a meeting. When Josephine arrived, I mentioned the name to her and she reacted instantly. The name I had heard was that of her husband, who had died many years previously. Immediately I felt him coming through to me, telling me that he had died while he was tying his shoelaces. I know ‘coming through’ is a strange sort of expression to use, but I think it’s a more accurate way of saying that I felt him ‘telling’ me, as we weren’t actually ‘talking’ as such.
I hesitated about saying this to Josephine, because it sounded so strange, but the voice was insistent, and so I said it.
‘Oh, yes,’ she said very matter-of-factly. ‘He was out in the yard bending down to tie his shoelaces when a tractor backed into him and killed him.’
After that there was no stopping him; he gave her all sorts of information and advice about various personal and business matters. At this stage I have no recollection of what they were; in any case, they would only have been of interest to her. I remember, though, how delighted I was by the session with her. She was obviously very pleased about the contact with her late husband.
A few months later I met a woman named Anne. Once again I was visited by a communicator, who absolutely insisted that I pass on a message. The message or, more accurately, the instruction, was: ‘Tell her to play a piece of string.’
This seemed completely nonsensical to me. I was thinking of ‘string’ being a slender rope of some kind. However, when I eventually took a chance and told her, Anne lit up immediately. The spirit was a friend of Anne’s, and she had been wondering what music to play at a memorial service for him. She knew exactly what he meant – music played by string instruments. She didn’t seem to be surprised – but I was.
These and other experiences have provided me with plenty of incontrovertible evidence of continuing life. My communication with Margaret Anna has, therefore, always made sense to me, and I’ve never doubted that the details she has provided about the spirit world are accurate and believable. In many of the experiences I had provided information that sounded superficial to me, but was deeply moving or important to the people receiving the messages. However, the very fact that it was possible for both sides of the physical and spirit dimensions to make contact was comforting, particularly because it was obviously genuine. I was eager for more information – and a wider discussion of life in general in the spirit dimension – and that’s where Margaret Anna came in.
Living after death
Like many others, I was often wrenched by agonising self-questioning. In most of my communications, when people