My Encounter With Psychic Sally

Before I begin, let me state for the record: This is not a sponsored post. I would never have accepted a sponsored post from a psychic, because I do not believe in psychics. And I do not believe in psychics because psychics are not real.

Which made it all the more awkward when I met Psychic Sally and.... well... read on.

Sally and me

I didn't know who Sally Morgan was until a week ago. She appeared before me on The Daily Edition and did a reading for Tom Williams on air. She predicted accurately that his wife was pregnant - a fact he had not told anyone on set. He was astounded, his fellow panellists were thrilled to hear the news, there was much celebration, and the whole segment ran overtime.

As a result, my segment was cut short. I felt a little pissed at Sally Morgan.

On Tuesday, she turned up in the Green Room again. Apparently this week she was on after us (which was a relief). I still didn't know anything about Sally except that she was a famous British psychic. I know now that she's had her own TV shows, and has been personal psychic for the likes of George Michael, Natalie Imbruglia, and the late Princess Di. So that's kind of impressive.

Still, I don't believe in psychics. So I didn't care. I was convinced that Tom had told her the news of his wife's pregnancy before the show. I actually asked him, and he vigorously denied it, and to be fair, I did see him rush into a corner and call his wife on his mobile the minute the segment was over.

But what other explanation could there have been?

Back to Tuesday. I was sitting in the Green Room with Kayte and Beth waiting for our turn to go on set. Sally came up from makeup. To be honest, she looked like she wanted to be left alone. But we said hi. Literally, 'Hi'. Kayte asked how the tour was going and Sally said that she was off to Newcastle. She was used to much bigger audiences, she said. She's far less known here in Oz.

I hadn't intended to ask her anything. I don't believe in psychics, remember? But suddenly, I felt it burst out of me.

"Can you tell me anything about myself?" I asked.

Without skipping a beat, she answered.

"You're just fine, darling," she said. "You're coming out of four months of hellish stress, but you're just fine."

And then she started telling me things, describing my circumstances, and it was absolutely spot-on accurate. I gave her no information. NONE. It was an absolutely cold reading.

I wish I could repeat it all here but I can't. I can't because it was personal and involved other people in my life. But Kayte and Beth were there and they saw it too. I turned white and started to shake. It was the most bizarre experience of my life.

Sally picked names of people in my life, and told me things about them that I knew to be true. She gave me advice about how to handle a certain situation, which was absolutely perfect.

She used words that I use, phrases that resonate with me. "As for the finances," she said, and told me what was going on. Not only did she get it right, but she used the word I use. Finances. I don't say cash flow or financial situation or money issues. I say finances. And so did she. Unprompted.

"You are strong," she said to me. "You have it all in here." And those are the words my mum uses.

She mentioned my sister, briefly. She told me about my place up north - something to do with forestry? Well, yes. The place on the Central Coast is in the national forest. She told me how I feel when I go there. Calm and peaceful. She was right.

She made a couple of predictions. They were very positive. I hope they come true.

I don't know if I believe in psychics. But Sally Morgan did something on Tuesday and I have no idea how.

I'm putting her tour dates here. As I said, this is not sponsored in any way. But it was an extraordinary experience and I wanted to pass it on.

BANKSTOWN SPORTS CLUB - Thursday July 11, 2013 - Bookings: (02) 9722 9888

EVAN THEATRE PENRITH PANTHERS - Friday July 12, 2013 - Bookings: (02) 4720 5555

TWIN TOWNS SERVICES CLUB, TWEED HEADS - Saturday July 13, 2013 - Bookings: 1800 014 014

PANTHERS PORT MACQUARIE - Sunday July 14, 2013 - Bookings: (02) 6580 2300

BLACKTOWN WORKERS CLUB - Wednesday July 17, 2013 - Bookings: (02) 9830 0600 - 11.00am Show

HURSTVILLE ENTERTAINMENT CENTRE - Thursday July 18, 2013 - Bookings: (02) 9330 6222 - 11.30am Show

MOUNTIES, MOUNT PRITCHARD COMMUNITY CLUB - Saturday July 20, 2013 - Bookings: (02) 9822 3555

CASTLE HILL RSL CLUB - Wednesday July 24, 2013 - Bookings: (02) 8858 4800

SOUTHS JUNIORS CLUB - Thursday July 25, 2013 - Bookings: (02) 9349 7555 - 11.00am Show

SHOALHAVEN ENTERTAINMENT CENTRE, NOWRA - Friday July 26, 2013 - Bookings:  1300 788 503

THE ATHENAEUM THEATRE, MELBOURNE - Saturday July 27, 2013 - Bookings: 132 849

The Force Was With Us

Today has been absolutely exhausting. We have spent most of the day sitting on our balcony watching the City To Surf, the annual fun run from Sydney's CBD to Bondi Beach. Watching people jog and sweat has really taken it out of me. I should have done some training.

The race began with a trickle of runners, the serious sportspeople who would fight it out for the win. It was terribly exciting and the kids and I ran outside to cheer them on. We clapped, we waved, and I tried to go 'Woo hoo!' but had to stop after my son told me I was an embarrassment.



The Balcony Scene

Across the road, Boo's best friend, the delightful Sarah, appeared with her mum and dad, having walked up the hill from their home.

'There's Sarah!" cried Boo. "I want to play with her!"

"Okay, let me just get your coat," I said. I rushed inside and rushed out again.
"Alright, let's go."

Er... no. Slight problem. In that 30 seconds, about 20 billion people had flooded the road. They had come out of nowhere (actually, they had come out of the city, but that's just semantics), and were pounding the pavement, panting and grunting in a pumping wall of humanity. And there was no way we were getting past them in one piece.

"Sa-RAH!!!" my three year old wailed, reaching out pathetically across the road. It was tragic. So near, and yet so far. I tried to explain that we could simply not risk being trampled to death in the name of a playdate, but she was inconsolable.

Then beside me, an elderly woman appeared, dressed as if for church. She looked to her right, looked to her left, and then ran, ducking and weaving through the sea of joggers in her skirt and  hat like a pious Pac Man. It was inspiring. That, my friends, is what Faith will do for you.

Over the couse of the morning, we saw a number of interesting competitors. There were Smurfs, Super Marios, and a blue Avatar person. There were Spidermen, Supermen and a limping Batman ("I guess I'm not invincible after all," he told me sadly). There were a couple of wrestlers, many Bananas (some peeled, some whole), and a Colonel Gadaffi (don't ask). There were Lego pieces, a Stig, aliens, and an awful lot of tutus. And there were a couple of Wonder Women, looking more than a little tired. ("Wonder Woman! All the world is waiting for you!" I said. "Well it'll have to wait a bit longer," one of them replied.)

Can you see Elmo?

About half way through the race my daughter posted a sign. KEEP GOING! it commanded. And then the sign fell off.

"Do you think I should play my violin?" she asked.

"Well that will certainly make them run a lot faster," I told her.

My husband and I brought out stools, sat down and continued to shout out encouragement to the passing masses. "Less talking, more running!" I yelled to a chattering group of girls.

"Less sitting, more running!" one of them yelled back. I guess I deserved that.

"Go ducky!!!" I shouted to a runner in a duck costume.

"For god sake, Kerri," said my husband. "You're embarrassing me."

"Why?" I asked. "I'm allowed to cheer!"

"Because it's a chicken," he said, and rolled his eyes.


Still, by the end of the race, it was my husband who was embarrassing me.  "Disqualified!" he started calling out at random (although happily, no-one took notice). "Give up! There's no point! You'll never finish!" he said. And I dragged him into the house. 

Eventually, the sea of runners trickled to a stream. We went inside, and watched the end of the race through the window. But the best was yet to come. A huge group of Star Wars Storm Troopers marched past our house in full costume. It was awesome. It was almost spiritual. I hoped the church lady had seen them.

May The Force Be With You

Later in the day I got to thinking. If I started training now, I could run the City To Surf next year. I too could be one of those joggers. I could be a Smurf, or a Batgirl, or a Banana. I could be an Elmo, or a Star Trooper, or a Duck. (I could even be a Chicken, but then I'd probably get confused.)

But it looked like really hard work, and even writing this post has made me tired. I think I'll just stick to the balcony.

Caught Out?

My 11 year old son came running in triumphantly on Tuesday morning. Or rather, not quite triumphantly - kind of a mixture of triumph and anger, if that makes any sense. I guess if it was on your own child's face, you would recognise it.

"The tooth fairy didn't come!" he shouted.

I was utterly confused. "Why would the tooth fairy come?"

"Because I lost a tooth yesterday!"

I looked in his open mouth. And yes, it was true. He'd lost a tooth. He'd lost a tooth at school, he's brought it home in his pocket, he'd fetched a glass of water, and he'd put the tooth in the glass of water without telling me after I had gone to bed.

And the tooth fairy didn't come.

He looked at me, his huge eyes glittering. "The tooth fairy didn't come because you didn't know I lost a tooth! YOU'RE the tooth fairy!"

I was stunned. He was trying to catch me out.

I sat there, my mouth hanging open. I seriously had no idea what to say, which is very unusual for me. My son had thought of a hypothesis and falsified it by empirical observation, using true scientific method.

And I've always been crap at science.

I was racking my brains when my nine year old daughter ran into the room. "What happened?" she asked. "I heard yelling!"

My son held up his tooth. "I lost a tooth and the TOOTH FAIRY DIDN'T COME!"

"Oh no!" said my precious, innocent daughter. "Did you leave her a note? And snacks? She always likes to be left snacks."

"No," he said. "The tooth fairy didn't come because MUM DIDN'T KNOW I LOST A TOOTH!"

My daughter looked confused. "Why? Does Mum need to tell the tooth fairy you lost a tooth?"

"No," said my son. "Mum IS the tooth fairy!"

My daughter looks bewildered. I still couldn't speak. From the corner of my eye I saw my husband running into the kitchen in his boxers, rustling around in a cupboard. My son noticed, too. A second later, my husband emerged holding a glass of water with three coins in it.

"Why was this next to my bed?" he asked. Wow. The man is certainly quick. Quicker than me, anyway (which is probably not so very quick at all).

"Oh no!" I exclaimed. "The tooth fairy must have got confused and left your money on Dad's bedside table by mistake!"

My son looked at me with the withering glare he usually reserves for his Wii opponents. "Firstly, I SAW DAD GETTING THAT GLASS," he said. "And secondly, I STILL HAVE THE TOOTH. You guys are SO lame."

Bloody tooth fairy. Looked like she didn't exist after all.

Only the most amazing thing happened. When my son came home from school that afternoon, there was a package on his bed. It contained three Lego Mini-Figures, which my son absolutely loves, and a note.

"I'm so sorry for being late," explained the fairy. "I got struck by a huge kookaburra and broke my wing and spent the night in fairy hospital. Please leave your tooth again tonight and I'll collect it. Love, Your Tooth Fairy."

My son was thrilled, and his sister was no longer confused.

Science may have a lot to offer, but faith still reigns supreme.

The Day I Saw Jo

Yesterday I bumped into an old school friend whom I’ll call Jo (because it’s not her name). I hadn’t seen Jo for around eight years, ever since she became angry at me after I mistakenly fed her baby daughter the first animal products she’d ever consumed, in the form of a benign looking Salada biscuit.

Jo always stood out from the mainstream. She was earthy, vegan, anti-organised religion, anti-cosmetics, pro-animal rights, and non-conformist. She was also angry, moody, and more than a little rebellious.

But oh, how times change.

When I bumped into Jo yesterday, she was in Westfield shopping centre, not the place I associated with an angry non-conformist. It turns out her daughter attends a private, Catholic girls’ school, her son is enrolled in a private boys’ school, and she was heading off to have a facial. Presumably with cosmetics.

Now, I am not criticising Jo in the slightest for altering her philosophical stands. I simply found it fascinating that she has changed so much over the years. Twenty years ago I would have pictured her living on a commune with her feral children wearing hemp gowns, eating fruit that had fallen from the tree, with dozens of rescued animals gathered around her hearth.

But then I got to thinking.... We all change, don’t we? If we looked back in time ten, twenty or thirty years, how far would each of us have moved from where we began?

As a teenager I was desperately insecure. I worried terribly about my appearance. I spent hours contemplating the meaning of life. I ached over boys who would never like me, instead of boosting my confidence by dating boys who did. I felt unsure of myself, uncomfortable in my own skin, and lacked any sense of who I was and what I could offer my friends, family and the world around me.

In my twenties I moved through studies, various jobs and relationships, projecting to the world an air of assurance and vivacity, but without the self-confidence to back it up.

At 30 I became a mother for the first time, and all felt right with the world for the first time. I knew how to care for my baby. It was easy and instinctive. I became the earth mother I’d always dreamed of being. I lost weight, I returned to study, I began writing, and I felt more confident and happy with myself than ever before in my life.

And then everything changed again. My second child was born. I couldn’t cope with two small children. Moreover, as my son grew, I realised that being an earth mother with an easy baby was one thing. Being an earth mother with a challenging toddler / pre-schooler / child was completely different. I lost my confidence, felt anxious, became, once again, the insecure teenager who didn’t believe in herself or her capabilities.

Now, at 40 (using ‘40’ in the sense of ‘very slightly older than 40, but who’s counting’) I believe I have finally come into my own. I’ve taken responsibilities for my mistakes and am trying to do better. I’ve also forgiven myself because I know I’m not perfect, and want only to make the best of my life that I can. I understand that I can’t control everything in my world, but try to make the best decisions I possibly can. And I take pride in my achievements, of all forms and sizes – my children, my writing, the chicken dish I made the other night after the first attempt failed.

Life is a journey. We are fluid as we move along its path. We change. We develop. We experience highs and lows. We fight ourselves and accept ourselves and push for change and change without meaning to.

I was stunned by the changes in Jo, not so much because of her embracing cosmetics and religious schools, but because she had lost her anger. She seemed happy, calm, and comfortable in her own skin. And though I haven’t quite got the calm thing down yet, I’m happy and comfortable too.

I’ve seen girls grow from lonely social outcasts to confident and attractive women. I’ve seen average students become spectacularly successful business people and lawyers. I’ve seen wild teenagers develop into wonderful mothers. And I’ve seen people recover from grief and loss to begin new lives.

For all of you who have achieved positive change in your lives, well done. Be proud. And for those still struggling, have hope. Life is long, and you cannot possibly imagine what changes are in store for you.

My 17 year old self would have been stunned to learn how she evolved. And, I imagine, so would Jo’s.

Faith. In Something.

Last night I had quite a profound revelation.

It started with the discovery that one of my best friends - a highly intelligent, sensible woman - believes the moon landing was faked.

Now, this surprised me. A lot. What else don't I know about my friend? Is she a Scientologist? Does she believe in colon cleansing? Does she have a third nipple? A well-hidden conjoined twin?

Now I've seen all the documentaries claiming the moon landing was faked, and to me, they have about as much credibility as the claim that a non-photoshopped Jennifer Hawkins represents 'real women' (sorry, can't seem to let that one go). But it's what my friend believes. And no amount of argument will change her mind.

What's more, it turns out she also believes that 9/11 was a brainchild of the U.S. Government. When I discovered that, I began to think my friend was a bit strange in the head.
But here's the twist.

I don't believe in god. Never have. I wish I did, but I simply can't. The concept doesn't make sense to me; it just doesn't ring true. And up until last night, I didn't understand people who had faith. I had none. Or so I believed.

But then my friend questioned me about why I believed in the moon landing, and why I believed in 9/11 as an act of external terrorism.

And I had to admit: It wasn't because of any empirical evidence. I can read the newspapers, I can watch the TV reports, I can see the footage, but ultimately I wasn't there. I will never know 100% whether the information I am being fed is true.

No, the reason I believe in the moon landing, and in 9/11, is because I choose to believe. I don't wish to believe in wide scale fraud perpetuated on humanity. I don't wish to believe in acts of terrorism perpetuated on a government's own people.

So that's faith, right? It may not be faith in god, but it's faith in people.

And for me, right now, that's enough.