One Night in Lily Dale
I’ve never considered myself to be particularly clairvoyant, but I do think we all possess certain abilities of intuition. That pit in your stomach that tells you to switch subway cars on your commute home, or those moments when you know who’s calling before you see their name appear on your phone.
I’ve had moments in my life when I’ve felt the presence of loved ones who’ve passed. A flash of a face, the warmth of a touch in the middle of the night- usually the sensation is gone before I even register what it is.
But when I went to Lily Dale last August for a weekend trip away it felt like the smoldering embers of my intuitive senses were set afire. Each inch of the tiny town felt infused with magic. Each person, animal, and plant seemed to hold some regal energy to it.
I decided to visit Lily Dale after hearing about it most of my Buffalo life, just an hour South of where I live, it’s known as the home of many mediums and mystics. Spiritualists whose calling is to communicate with the dead and offer messages of support to their loved ones. Knowing I needed a break from the day to day monotony of motherhood, I booked a weekend away and a class led by Elaine Kuzmeskus on opening your third eye.
The minute I drove onto the Lily Dale grounds I felt the world slow down. There was a peace and a calm that was palpable. White haired women in caftans sauntered around the empty streets, in the garden, and drank tea and coffee at the only restaurant in town. I stayed on the top floor of an abandoned coffee shop that was most definitely haunted. I attended the forest service where mediums gathered to “read” the crowd and tell them messages of hope and love. I walked through the streets as the light turned to night, a million humming birds appeared out of nowhere, and the gardens seemed to come alive with the evening glow.
The morning of my third eye workshop I tied my hair into braids on top of my head and had a hot cup of coffee by Lake Cassadaga. I felt grateful to have survived the night in my air b&b without any ghost sightings and was excited to get to my workshop. Inside the unassuming octagon classroom were about 15 other seekers. Nurses, ex-cops, reiki teachers, and me, a stay at home mom. Everyone was open to learning and listening more closely to their intuitive gifts. The afternoon which went from 9am-4pm flew by. We did a healing exercise, learned how to read the colors of someone’s aura, and even practiced sending messages telepathically to a partner.
During our class our teacher Elaine, a world renowned medium, would read the individuals in our class. She’d make comments here and there about things she saw or felt. While feeling stuck during an exercise where you had to ask your guide for an answer you’ve been looking for, she looked at me afterwards and plainly said “you won’t find the answer yet. It’s coming in the new year. Maybe even in November.”
It was such a unique and joyful experience to be amongst a group of seekers from all walks of life- trying to get closer to our higher selves. But I could feel an itch of anxiety and a heaviness creeping into my chest. During an exercise where we learned how to enhance our meditation practice with a candle I saw my grandparents faces and started to cry. When we each went around the room to share what we’d seen during our mediation, Elaine, our instructor, noted that my grandparents “don’t want me to be so sad.”
I felt like despite showing up and wanting to be fully present my postpartum depression was following me around. Like being stuck in the mud I couldn’t get out of. I felt defeated and cloudy. My heart was there but my body was somewhere else.
After the workshop I went back to the air b&b spinning with energy. I took a quick shower but while the water was washing away the afternoon a swell of the anxiety I’d been avoiding all day flooded over me and I started to cry. I could feel a panic in my chest climbing as I gasped in air trying to catch my breath. I let the emotion roll through me until I was able to calm myself down. After my panic attack I decided to surrender to where I was at and go home a day early. So I packed my bags and said goodbye to Lily Dale.
On the drive home I reckoned with the emptiness I was feeling. The pain of what I’ve been carrying, and the light that has been trying to come out too.
Maybe trying to keep it together all afternoon was too much for me. Maybe I just needed to let go and be where I was at in my postpartum journey.
While driving down the busy highway home I gathered my thoughts, some of which included seeds of when I would be able to visit Lily Dale next.
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A couple of weeks after my Lily Dale trip I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to find the space and time to meditate. While I’ve wanted to continue to practice strengthening my intuitive gifts, I know I’m in a season of my life where routine and extra time to myself are often out of reach, which can be frustrating. Once again I find my heart somewhere my body isn’t able to be.
But something I have been able to do for myself is continue with my exercise practice by taking a couple of spin classes a week. The time to myself is a welcome respite for me to get back into my body and try to be present for 45 min.
But something unusual happened during my last class. While I was riding the stationary bike bopping along to the hip hop beats, the instructor dimmed all the lights so just a soft candle could be seen in the center of class. A flooding sensation filled all my senses as I saw my grandparents dancing to the beat of the music. They were laughing and joking. My Papa was spinning my Nanny around in his cowboy boots, and they looked like they were having the time of their lives. The lights went back on and they were gone, but I felt the sensation of them still with me. Shivers went up and down my spine as I tried to understand what I had just seen but couldn’t articulate. Tears rushed to the corners of my eyes. I was absolutely floored. Maybe I had been subconsciously practicing the candle meditation I’d learned at Lily Dale during my spin class, and I had accidentally conjured my grandparents.
My heart ached with a kind of hope and knowing that I wasn’t alone. Maybe none of us are. Maybe this was a reminder of the intuitive power we all have to get help from the ones we love. Maybe for you they might show up in a prayer, in a cardinal sighting outside your window, or maybe if you’re lucky they will show up when you least expect them, dancing alongside you to the beat of your next spin class.
Until next time,
Erin
Things I’m Excited About This Week:
This Deep Dive podcast conversation about the labor of mothers & the power of rest hosted by June Diane Raphael and Jessica St. Clair (check out a clip of the episode on my IG feed here).
The release of Sal’s new album 2 Stressed 2 Be Blessed!!!!! Listen now on all music platforms- and check out my favorite song on the album Keeper.
Stay tuned for a new podcast series I’m doing about life’s “transitions” with Frank Schaeffer and EJ Gregg, coming soon!
