This is the third post in the blog series of stories of The Unexplained from my own life.

These two stories don’t have anything to do with each other except that both happened when I was 11 years old. At least, I’ve always assumed they were unrelated events.

The first happening was witnessed by many people who still talk about it 30+ years later.

Our farm was a dairy of about 400 holsteins. The cows wore numbered ear tags to identify them. Number 222 was the favorite cow on the farm. I kid you not, numerologists. For real, on her ear tag three twos were printed in black permanent marker. None of us knew anything about angel numbers back then. This was central Maine, not California.

Here are two more stories of mysterious, unexplainable happenings from my childhood.

My little brother is only a year younger than me and we used to play outside unsupervised starting at a tender age, which was normal back then. We grew up in a farmhouse built by our ancestors on a river basin in central Maine. A bubbling brook ran past our home and emptied into the Piscataquis River a couple fields away.

We spent most of our playtime on the banks of the brook, even in the winter when we were strictly prohibited by our mother from going down there. We were usually obedient children so what lead us to break this rule?

I’ve enjoyed listening to Telepathy Tapes and Otherworld, both podcasts having to do with experiences that defy materialist explanations—the paranormal, supernatural, and otherwise unexplained. My earliest memory is supernatural and as a child it wasn’t unusual for me to have pre-cognizant dreams and other experiences of non-ordinary reality. I used to keep these stories to myself, not only from fear of people not believing me, but because I used to not like it when people imposed a meaning on these experiences.

For years now I’m at a place where I don’t care if people believe me or not, nor do I care if they feel the need to interpret my experiences a certain way.

I’m going to tell you how I met my mentor. Within this story I hope to give you an idea of the following:

1) What I look for in an intuitive professional and therefore,

2) Who I strive to BE as an intuitive professional.

Ten years ago I was coming out of the most dark and difficult time of my life. A friend told me about the healing she and her husband had experienced after going to a spiritual medium in England. Her husband was devastated and struggling to cope after a series of sudden deaths in his family. The medium described in incredible detail these family members and relayed their messages of love, hope, and encouragement. My friend witnessed a transformation in her husband. Though he continued to grieve, he was able to move forward with his life.

Last week I was sitting at my little table on Main Street in Belfast when a woman emerged from a shop. I could tell she was a great lady the moment I saw her. I don’t see auras like some people do but I could feel the goodness and moral beauty emanating from her.

She looked up and our eyes met. Her delicate features were unusually symmetrical. She smiled brightly and approached me, saying, “It’s been years or maybe decades since I had a tarot reading but I feel like I’m being pulled right over to you!”

I had lived twelve radiant, healing years on the Mediterranean coast of Spain and the reverse culture shock I experienced coming back to the States had me tense, oversensitive, and more reactive than usual. I was outraged at the outrage. I was at war with the culture wars. I wasn’t in a constant state of indignation, but there were days that the anger and disgust threatened to take over my inner world.

Oh, how I love to explore the possibilities! I’m a dreamer so it comes naturally to me to find joy in envisioning potential paths.

This is one of my strengths and dreaming big has enriched my life in myriad ways. A powerful imagination has led this rural Maine farm girl into fascinating worlds of beauty, pleasure, and spiritual opulence. I also use this gift to help others dream big for themselves.

Our strengths live on one side of the coin and our weaknesses on the other. I’m so comfortable with liminal space and so protective of my freedom, postponing decisions to live in my dream world can feel better than taking a definitive step forward that would close the door—at least temporarily—to other alluring paths.

In the language of Human Design, I’m what’s called a Splenic Projector.

That means my intuition doesn’t operate through emotion, occasional flashes of insight, or long reflection. It operates through the Spleen Center, which in Human Design is associated with instinct, pattern recognition, and moment-to-moment awareness. Splenic intuition is fast and quiet. It tends to arrive as a subtle knowing — a quick perception of what’s healthy, what’s aligned, and what isn’t.

Intuition defies logic, space, and time to arrive at accurate, useful information not otherwise available through the physical senses. From a materialist perspective we can’t explain how it works, and the good news is that we don’t have to explain it to enjoy the benefits.