‘I wasn't your average counsellor, I had a direct line to Spirit’
Elizabeth Robinson, 52, was working as a counsellor when spirits gave her a special mission to wake up the world
Elizabeth Robinson's connections in the afterlife gave her a special mission to awaken people's hearts and minds
‘I wasn’t your average counsellor, I had a direct line to Spirit’
Iwas clearing away dishes after Sunday lunch when the sharp trill of the phone broke the silence in the house. I jumped, sending a plate crashing to the floor and stared down at the shattered pieces.
It was a cold day, January 11, 2004 and
I’d been on edge all weekend at my home in Ashland, Oregon, where I lived with my 13-year-old daughter Jessica.
Ever since I’d finished work as a counsellor on Friday night, I’d been swamped by a feeling of despair. An irrational sense of impending doom that refused to budge.
Someone’s life was in danger. I felt as if I needed to protect someone. But who? From what? And why?...
I hadn’t been able to shake off this terrible feeling of dread. Then around lunchtime on Saturday, as I was taking out the rubbish, I had a sudden feeling of surrender followed by an overwhelming sense of peace.
The whole experience unsettled me.
Now, as I reached for the phone, the knot in my stomach tightened once more.
‘It’s Elise,’ said my friend on the other end. Her tone was unusually serious.
I heard her let out a long low breath as if she was struggling to collect herself.
I waited impatiently for her to continue. ‘It’s Shylo,’ she said.
My heart beat faster. Shylo was one of my clients. An 18-year-old college student that
I’d seen for a counselling session four days earlier. She was struggling with depression after suffering a head injury in a car accident. Intelligent. Beautiful. Capable.
I saw her in my mind’s eye in my consulting room, her soulful brown eyes fixed on mine as she searched for answers as to what new purpose she could find from the shattered debris of her life.
I was the perfect person to ask. I wasn’t your average counsellor, I had a direct line to the Spirit world. I saw, heard and felt them. I also had a spirit guide who gave me information about clients’ past traumas and family history going back generations that helped me advise them.
I’d built up a reputation within the mental health community, sharing my experiences at national conferences, and talking about the need to complement scientific medicine with ‘intuitive counsellors’ like me, who had extra help from an all-seeing spirit world.
The news was tragic
During one of our sessions I’d had a strange vision that Shylo was being prepared by beings in the spirit world for a different life. They’d visited her when she was in a coma following the car crash.
‘But what am I being prepared for?’ Shylo kept asking me every time we met. But I’d never been able to answer her question.
Elise took another intake of breath on the end of the phone.
‘I’m sorry… Shylo killed herself yesterday.’ For a second I couldn’t process her words. They flopped out of the receiver like useless shapes instead of sounds with meaning. As I watched them bob towards me like wisps of cloud they knitted into a rock-hard ball and hurtled towards my chest.
Pow! They hit me like a punch and I fell back into a chair from the unexpected force.
It turned out she’d taken her life at the same time as I felt that overwhelming sense of
surrender and calm. I just knew that it wasn't a coincidence. What I'd felt was her passing.
I felt a rush of anger. What use was my connection with the Spirit world when I’d never seen it coming?
I’d failed poor Shylo. There was no point to my gift if I hadn’t stopped this young girl from ending her life.
That night I crawled sobbing into my bed. Nothing had prepared me for the horror of this tragedy. A beautiful girl with a great future ahead of her – gone in an instant.
It must have been the early hours when I saw her. She was standing in a dimly lit corner of my bedroom, looking at me. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail like it always was, and she looked as real as she did when she was alive. I sat bolt upright.
Her brown eyes creased into a smile. ‘Hi Elizabeth…’ she said.
An unexpected visitor
The next few minutes passed in a blur. It was as though we’d seen each other only the day before, as though nothing was out of the ordinary. She chatted away as she usually did about what she’d been up to.
I listened mesmerized as she revealed she was in a period of ‘adjustment’ from the physical world, and that she had a mentor in the afterlife helping her. ‘This was the
‘life’ they’d been preparing me for when they visited me in the coma,’ she smiled.
I felt my anger about her death drain away. Of course, Spirit always had a master plan!
It wasn’t my fault I hadn’t saved her. She had a bigger mission that I couldn’t have foreseen.
‘But if I had my life over again on Earth I wouldn’t have ended it,’ she confessed. ‘Not if I’d known the pain I’d cause my family.’
When she left 20 minutes later, I felt comforted and so happy she’d sought me out.
I was getting ready for bed a few days later when she visited me again with more revelations from the other side. ‘You choose how to be of service to the physical world after you die,’ she revealed, settling herself comfortably on the bed.
‘You can support a family member left behind, or go into service for the benefit of humanity – so if there’s a major ‘catastrophe’ you can help people cross over – or work with newly arrived souls.’
I started to look forward to Shylo's visits every couple of days, curious to learn more about her new ‘life’.
The next time she appeared as I was nodding off to sleep, it was to tell me I had a mission too. ‘Me?’ I said amazed.
‘You,’ she smiled, amused. ‘Your mission is to tell the world what it’s really like in the afterlife.’
After she left I worried about what she’d said. Telling the world would mean raising my head above the parapet. I was known for being an intuitive counsellor in my work community but admitting I see and talk to spirits to thousands of people… that would be a step too far. My spiritual awakening
had already torn my
marriage apart. I didn’t want my life ripped to pieces again.
I thought back to October, 1992 when I’d had a past life flashback that opened the floodgates to my sixth sense and connected me to the Spirit world. I’d been teaching Jessica, then two, how to swim in a pool when I lost my footing and slipped under the surface. As I sank down, I was flung back to an earlier life where I was a Mum, struggling to save me and my son from drowning in a shipwreck. Instead of the calm water of the pool, I was tossed around in the violent currents of the ocean, my long, heavy dress dragging me down, as I desperately tried to keep us afloat as the waves buffeted us.
I’d been terrified of water all my life. Was my fear down to a past life? One that I’d been shown that day in the pool?
My logical-minded engineer husband
Mark didn’t want to know about that terrifying flashback – he thought I was hallucinating, going crazy.
But weeks after the experience I started to hear Spirit – information popping into my head about friends and family that later turned out to be true. An ill family member… a surprise divorce… a job loss…
It was hard to explain
Two months after the flashback, at home doing the hoovering, I saw in my mind’s eye a man from the Middle East in a white turban. ‘I’m your spirit guide,’ he announced, to my surprise. ‘I’ll be by your side to support you on your spiritual journey.’
If I struggled to compute what was happening to me, my poor husband didn’t stand a chance.
In bed that night after my spirit guide’s visit, Mark looked at me like I’d gone gaga. ‘Are you for real?’ he said aghast.
I was no longer the rational, straight-talking woman he’d married.
However I intuitively felt this new world made more sense than my old one and I wanted to find out more.
I started to spend time browsing the shelves of New Age book shops to understand more about the spiritual world.
The distance between Mark and I widened. He wanted an ordinary life, an ordinary wife, someone to take on holidays, share a home with, indulge with nice clothes.
‘That’s enough for me,’ he said tearfully one night as I told him about my latest ‘download’ of messages from the spirit world.
But, however much I loved him, a curtain had been pulled back and my old, material world now seemed so meaningless.
Mark and I struggled on for a few more years but, unable to bridge the chasm, six years after my awakening we divorced.
When my spirit guide appeared one night in 2002 and suggested I moved to America with Jessica, I didn’t question it. ‘A new life awaits you,’ he said.
Then when Jessica was offered a school exchange trip to the States a short while later, I knew it was a golden opportunity to do as my guide had urged me.
Once in Oregon, my reputation as an intuitive counsellor with one foot in the spirit world grew.
But although I was happy to be known for being unconventional in my work, I was still feeling reluctant to take on my mission from Shylo and reveal our chats about the afterlife.
Shylo continued to visit me at least one night a week. ‘You’ll tell the world all about our conversations. You’ll see,’ she’d encourage before disappearing again.
I pushed it to the back of my mind and got on with my work and bringing up Jessica.
Then one afternoon, September 27th, 2004, the phone rang.
As I reached for the receiver, I felt a piercing pain in my right shoulder and arm.
‘Arrgggh.’ I screamed. Then, just as suddenly as it came on, it vanished.
It was a friend of a colleague. ‘It’s about John E. Mack,’ he said in a shocked whisper.
Our friend and colleague, a Professor of Psychiatry, parapsychologist and Pulitzer-prize winning biographer, had been killed in a hit and
‘I was squinting into the light and John stepped out and into
run a few hours earlier after walking home from a lecture he’d given in London. The driver had been arrested at the scene.
‘He was hit in his right shoulder and arm.’ I went cold – that was the same place I’d had an unexpected pain moments before the call.
We had work to do
John was an important mentor in my life. He did research into the afterlife and it was through him that I’d been invited to speak at mental health conferences.
‘You add a new dimension to our work as healers,’ he’d tell me. And now my friend and supporter was dead.
I stumbled up to my bedroom and sat in the dark, numb, thinking I’d never see him again.
It must have been two hours later when I noticed a faint glow on the other side of the room. As I looked, it grew brighter and brighter until I was squinting into the light and John stepped out and into the room.
‘Just touching base,’ he said, a mug of coffee and a sticky bun in hand, like he always had! Next minute we were chatting away, the same as I did with Shylo.
‘At the moment I passed, I heard these amazing angelic voices,’ he told me.
I wasn’t surprised my beautiful friend had been accompanied by angels at his parting.
‘By the way,’ he said, turning to step into the light. ‘Me and you’ve got work to do. We need to tell the scientific world that it’ll benefit from working with more people like you.
‘We need to share this evolutionary message for humanity that desperately needs to awaken.’
With that he vanished into the golden glow.
For the next month, John and Shylo would appear regularly at different times. Shylo to tell me more about her life in the afterlife, John to dictate a new way to unite the scientific and spiritual worlds to benefit our wellbeing.
I’d make myself available to them any time of the day or night. Sometimes
John would materialise with American psychiatrist Elisabeth Targ, who died in 2002, and also specialized in psychic phenomena.
‘Remember your mission,’ nudged Shylo after one of her visits.
It was becoming clear that I was being called on to be a spokesperson for those whose lives continued on the other side. I opened my laptop. If it was my mission then it would be a good idea to make some notes!
In October, I was at home in my study writing up John’s latest dictation on his scientific and spiritual healing system when I got a private message on my computer. A young school friend of Jessica’s back in Australia had died after a suicidal cry for help.
My blood ran cold. Mia was only 14. Devastated, I gently broke the news to Jessica when she got home.
Then two days after her death, Mia appeared and sat down on the bed next to me.
I accepted my mission
‘Do I speak first, or do you ask me questions?’ she asked hesitantly.
My heart leapt. She looked just as she did when she was alive. Glossy brown hair, big brown eyes, cute dimples.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. ‘Darling… god it’s good to see you.’
‘I’ve got a message for Mum and Dad. I don’t want them to blame themselves,’ she said. ‘Will you please tell them for me.’
And then she was off chatting away about her new life. A keen animal lover, she was delighted when she saw pets on the other side.
‘There are dogs in the afterlife!’ she laughed. So, when Shylo reminded me of my mission the following week, this time I acted on it.
I started to record all of my conversations meticulously. After all, I was their voice on this earthly plane.
It took years but gradually I’ve summoned the courage to tell the world there are no goodbyes and I’m proud to take on that mission.
My greatest wish is that by sharing Shylo, John and Mia’s stories among others, I’ll awaken people’s hearts and minds, just like their spirits did for me.
ELIZABETH’S BOOK There Are No Goodbyes, is published by Hay House, priced £12.99
At my home
Shylo was such a beautiful young girl It's my job to share the message
Me with my friend and mentor
John E Mack
(left and below)