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Don't Blame God

22 March 2013


Born in the British Midlands in the 1960’s to abusive parents, Alexandra assumed there was no way out of the living hell that was her childhood. Raised by a mother, father and later stepfather who were later prosecuted for their child cruelty, Alexandra unwittingly discovered the spirit world, initially as a means of escape to avoid the horror of her formative years. Not realising until she was in her early twenties that her experiences were far from ordinary, she then began a personal quest to discover more about the after-life, direct from the source. In particular, why and how the departed had chosen to save her life and make themselves such an everyday, integral part of it.

An up front and brutally honest account of forty eight years of living with spirit; why it is not a party trick and the cautionary tale of how uneducated dabbling in the spirit world almost destroyed her as much as it had saved her. Alexandra tells the often tragic and sometimes hilarious true story of her interactions with those she refers to as ‘the Others,’ and why it is vitally important we all understand the real reason they communicate with the living and the effect they have on the choices we make. 



Throughout the ages, any form of divination, prophecy, soothsaying or spiritual mumbo jumbo has been greeted with an ever seesawing tradition of acceptance or rejection. We crucified a man named Jesus Christ, yet bestow our unbending faith upon him today. We burned the so-called witches at the stake, as we appointed astrologers to the king’s court, lauding them for their wisdom and guidance by the stars. In this, the twenty first century, we eagerly seek out the modern day witches for their predictive prowess, flippantly dismissing the science of astrology as nothing more than entertaining flim-flam, destined for the back pages of women’s magazines or a column alongside the comics in the Sunday newspaper. We have worshipped and killed each other in the name of our beliefs; unseen Gods and personal truths. Science battles blind faith
for the ultimate accolade; proof of life eternal and the completion of us. Louis Pasteur once said;

“How do you know that the incessant progress of science will not compel scientists
to consider that life has existed during eternity and not matter? How do you know that
in ten thousand years one will not consider it is more likely that matter has emerged
from life?”

In more recent times, greats such as Cayce, Moody, Monroe, Conan-Doyle, Tesla and Tolstoy have all publicly mulled over the truth of being, as Bach penned the tale of Jonathan Livingstone Seagull in an attempt to help us understand. An ordinary man named John Edward kicked in a new door to revisit life after death. A century long lull intermittently peppered with quaint Victorian stage shows part séance part magic trick, imploded when Edward entered stage right and delivered the message ‘showbiz style’. Drawn by the pizzazz and glitter we duly soaked it up; loyal disciples of the new Jesus. With accomplished authority, a middle finger and a “meh” for the critics, Edward tabled in-your-face proof of life eternal, delivered in a fashion the average media-saturated person could comprehend. Any level of fakery and the ‘big reveal’ would have been as sensational as the existence of soul-life itself. Had the twenty first century’s most infamous medium stooped to peddling snake oil, he would undoubtedly have been outed by an onlooker with their hand out for a handsome interview fee or a passer-by, in return for their very own fifteen minutes of fame.

We believed in John Edward only to sharply detour, we stopped wanting to hear John Edward and started wanting to be John Edward. The promise of fame, riches, public recognition and the perception of a perfect life became more important than the meaning, as we allowed ourselves to be swept away on the new wave of a new age. But what if we didn’t get the message before we made the egotistical detour to hear the crowd roar? Until we dispose of the lights, camera, action and ego, so they tell me, we will not move on to knowing fully. Live and unplugged; this is their story as much as it is mine, a tale that may well have been engineered by the other side for the telling or something so truly remarkable that they became the hitchhikers of my own personal galaxy. Whatever the answer, it is about the truth of life without the audience, the party favours and the champagne. The disturbing account of a stolen childhood, a broken adulthood and a search for answers in another world, in the wake of a shattered faith in humankind. A truth that resoundingly proves they are not the fortune tellers of our bidding, paraded to amuse and enthral the masses, but an integral and necessary part of the completion of our being.

If this turns out to be a terrible story, it’s because the truth got in the way.