When it began to speak through me

In 2005, I noticed that I could write automatically. Not because I decided to, but because my hand simply started moving on its own. Shortly after that, I also began to speak automatically. To be honest, I found that… strange.

It wasn’t that I was unfamiliar with other forms of perception. I could communicate with trees and animals. I felt things in people’s bodies, could smell illness, sense tension without anyone saying a word. I was in contact with the deceased. All of that had already become part of my reality.

But the fact that something — or someone — could speak so directly through me felt different. More confronting.

The voice that spoke was oddly melodic. Almost robotic. Not emotional, not personal, but very precise. And the content… it blew my mind. Entire narratives came through about planets and alignments, cosmic bodies, the cosmic human. About connections I didn’t know, concepts I couldn’t yet grasp.

I found it fascinating. And at the same time, unreal.

Life continued, regardless

At that time, I had three young children. Two still in diapers. I was on the verge of separating from the father of my oldest children and was mostly focused on keeping my head above water. Life was intense, practical, raw.

There was little space to truly integrate these vast transmissions into my daily life. I simply couldn’t do much with them then. And yet, they kept returning. Not constantly, but every year, a few moments at a time. I would feel a sensation in my brain and know: now I can transmit.

Looking back, the first real contact with this collective actually happened much earlier, in 1997. While on holiday, I had an experience I can only describe as a revelation. I felt one with the cosmos, with the collective, with all the information that exists.

I felt extremely light — literally and figuratively. As if weight had fallen away from me. I had the sense that I could ask any question and that all answers were available. My arms moved on their own. My face shifted without effort.

A friend who was with me felt a powerful energy. I was able to answer many of her questions, effortlessly, without thinking.

In the years that followed, the channelings returned. But I had also become very good at being “normal.” At adapting. At sharing this part of my reality with only a few people I deeply trusted.

We channeled regularly together, even though I didn’t understand everything that came through. That was perhaps the most frustrating part. I had to translate the transmissions into human language, into a world where we are used to thinking small.

How do you explain vast cosmic concepts when our consciousness here is so dense? So focused on daily life, on survival, on structures and methods?

I don’t mean that in a judgmental way. It’s simply what I observe: we use only a fraction of our conscious capacity. I sometimes find that painful to witness. And, honestly, lonely.

I long for connection on a level of consciousness.

For many years, I moved within other energetic fields. When I participated in the Dutch TV program The Sixth Sense (RTL4), I communicated with murdered individuals. Several times, they attempted to speak through my body. It caused me physical pain.

After some episodes, I needed months to recover.

At the time, I didn’t fully understand what was happening. Now I know that I am a fusion medium — I can make my body available as a vessel. But I have also learned that not every form of contact is nourishing.

The healthiest and most supportive form of communication is with the highest level of consciousness I can allow. That recharges my body. It does not hurt.

That is why I no longer communicate with the deceased, unless there is genuine urgency. And I no longer involve myself in murder cases. I feel that I can contribute more by opening myself to transmissions from a higher order.

And by higher, I do not mean better.

I mean more conscious.

Like a child in grade eight is not better than a child in grade one, but has developed further in certain areas.

At the same time, I find that comparison interesting, because learning knowledge and structures often distracts us from what is essential. From intuition. From nature. From feeling.

Structures and methods can be helpful, but they can also hinder our higher consciousness.

And perhaps that has been my path all along: learning when to listen, when to transmit — and when it is enough to simply be human.