Tabitha Nothaft was up against it. Near the end of last year the Center Moriches stay-at-home mom was watching her once successful
Internet business hurrying due south. She was going through a bitter divorce and heading into a brutal custody fight for her kids.
Paralyzed by stress, she
couldn’t predict how she’d handle going out into the work force to support herself and her children after being at home for years. Running on
empty financially and emotionally, she knew she couldn’t face it alone. She sought help.
A financial advisor? No. A shrink? Not a chance.
Nothaft sat down with a psychic. Read Article( size:679kb) / LIBN link to article
Last week I went for a “reading” with a psychic. It was, to say the least, an interesting encounter - who doesn’t like someone focusing entirely on you and your life? - with, I admit, one or two moments when the hairs on the back of my neck tingled. I’m not a skeptic when it comes to ghosts, the presence of spirits around us or communicating with dead people. A skeptic leaves open the possibility of being proven wrong. I am, without reservation, a firm non-believer.
Like everyone else, I’ve listened to sane, responsible people relate stories which seem to have no explanation other than … something OTHER controlling events. For example, I was in a near fatal car crash when I was 18 and the cop who responded reported his arrival to the twisted wreck on a country road at precisely 5:18 a.m. More than 100 miles away, my sister Peggy woke suddenly with an unshakable premonition that I was in mortal danger.
She looked at the clock on her bed table which winked, 5:18 a.m. Read Article( size:70.2kb)
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