Why I obey a mys­tery voice

A dis­em­bod­ied voice guides me through my life

Chat It's Fate - - Contents -

Shov­ing my jumper into my bag, I glanced at the time.

‘Crikey, I’m go­ing to be late col­lect­ing my friends,’ I gasped aloud.

I dashed out­side and bun­dled my bag into my car. I was off to the Fairy Fayre at Glas­ton­bury for the first time, driv­ing a few friends down from Glouces­ter with me. I was so ex­cited – we were in for the best day ever!

Twenty min­utes later, I was on the dual car­riage­way. All around me, my friends were talk­ing and gig­gling.

Just as I ap­proached the first exit, I heard a loud voice over the din.

‘Go home. Turn around and go home,’ the voice told me.

‘No way,’ I thought dis­mis­sively. ‘I’ve been look­ing for­ward to this event for weeks.’


You see, it wasn’t one of my friends talk­ing to me.

I’m clairsen­tient which means I hear spirit. And this was a di­rect com­mu­ni­ca­tion from spirit.

I’d heard this voice a few times be­fore. It was nei­ther male nor fe­male but al­ways very clear in its in­tent.

This time, though, I was de­ter­mined to go to Glas­ton­bury, so I ig­nored it.

‘What can hap­pen? Ev­ery­thing’s go­ing to be fine,’ I thought.

But just a few min­utes later, as I ap­proached the next exit, the voice came again.

‘Turn around. Go home,’ it in­sisted.

My friends were chat­ting hap­pily amongst them­selves. They were as ex­cited about the Fayre as I was. There was no way I was about to an­nounce, ‘We can’t go be­cause a voice in my head told me not to.’

So I ig­nored the voice for a se­cond time - and then a third time. By then, it was shout­ing in my ear!

But after that, the voice went si­lent.

‘There,’ I told my­self. ‘It’s all fine now.’

Head­ing home

We had a great day at the Fairy Fayre, and we ex­plored the town and the Tor, which meant it was dark by the time we set off for home. I’d for­got­ten about the voice’s mes­sage. Ten min­utes into our jour­ney, the car in front of me sud­denly stopped. I was do­ing 45 miles an hour, and there was a big gap be­tween us, but even though I slammed on the brakes, I couldn't stop quickly enough. My car crashed into the ve­hi­cle in front. The driver be­hind me didn’t have time to stop, ei­ther. She went straight into the back of me. I was jerked pain­fully for­ward as her car hit mine mine. I suf­fered se­vere whiplash, whiplash but luck­ily, none of my friends were in­jured. in­jured M My car, how­ever, was a write-off. ‘I should have lis­tened to the voice,’ I grum­bled when I ar­rived home hours later. I’d been warned

It's nei­ther male nor fe­male

some­thing bad would hap­pen if I didn’t turn back, but I’d ig­nored the spirit guid­ance.

You would think I’d have learnt from past ex­pe­ri­ence, be­cause a few years ear­lier, a sim­i­lar thing hap­pened. The voice told me not to drive my car and yet I still got in it and was in­volved in an ac­ci­dent that

wasn’t my fault. That time, I’d gone out to buy milk and seen a huge truck hurtling to­wards me on a nar­row street. The driver was on his mo­bile and I knew he hadn’t seen me so I edged in be­tween two parked cars. Un­for­tu­nately, the side of my car was stick­ing out. The truck’s wheel nuts opened the side of my car like it was a tin of sar­dines. But now, after two warn­ings, I do lis­ten. More than once, I’ve been on dates and the voice has said, ‘No, he’s not the one for you.’ I haven't wasted my time, just made a po­lite ex­cuse and left. The voice has also helped me with my writ­ing. The ti­tle for my lat­est self-help book Where’s my F**in­gu­ni­corn F**ing Uni­corn came from the voice. I woke up with the words flow­ing and had to write them all down quickly, be­cause I knew if I didn’t, they would have floated away and I wouldn’t

re­mem­ber them.


I reg­u­larly do a writ­ing meditation, and I find that I can hear guid­ance from the voice more clearly when I'm writ­ing. It doesn’t mat­ter if I type out the words or hand-write them, as long as I ex­press what I am hear­ing in some way. Of­ten, these scenes and ideas then form the sto­ries in my nov­els.

I’ve still no idea who the voice ac­tu­ally be­longs to. Is it a spirit guide? My in­tu­ition?

I don’t know, but I trust its ad­vice. It’s never told me to do any­thing bad – if it did, I would go straight to a doc­tor! I’m well aware that hear­ing voices can be the sign of an un­der­ly­ing health prob­lem, but this is noth­ing like that. The voice is pro­tec­tive and looks out for me.

Even so, I make sure I clear my psy­chic en­ergy ev­ery day with a sim­ple tech­nique. I lie down, take a few deep breaths and imag­ine a pow­er­ful white light, like a sonic boom, com­ing out of my heart chakra flood­ing my body and my home with pro­tec­tive cleans­ing en­ergy. It’s al­ways a good idea to do this if you’re work­ing with spirit.

I be­lieve we could all do with a bit of guid­ance, and whether it’s an an­gel, spirit, or just my own psy­chic in­tu­ition, I’ve al­ways got an ally by my side.

Lucky me!

I've no idea who the voice be­longs to

Michelle Gor­don, 34, from Glouces­ter

Where’s My F**ing Uni­corn: A guide to Life, Your Uni­corn & Ev­ery­thing by Michelle Gor­don (Am­monite Press, £7.99) is out now.

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