My life took a left turn into the mystical in early 2025—the kind of unexpected detour where your cat barfs on your computer, your tea spills on your favorite work pants, and suddenly you’re… talking to dead people. Not exactly on my 2025 bingo card, but apparently the universe had other plans. Big, sparkly, “this-can't-just-be-perimenopause-right?” plans.
I had previously been a major skeptic—the kind of skeptic who lived in spreadsheets, research articles, and the serious halls of a PhD program in Vermont. Several of my classmates had met with a local medium, and as the resident cynic, I decided to treat the whole thing like a science experiment. I interviewed all of them, convinced I could prove she was cold reading them. Except… all of their readings were completely different, eerily specific, and accurate. Not ideal for my debunking agenda.
Naturally, I had to test it myself. So I went full undercover spy: weird phone, fake name, different car, cash only, zero jewelry, sitting stone-still like a highly skeptical gargoyle. The medium barely even looked up and immediately started nailing impossibly specific evidence. First hit: “777,” which has been my number for life and lives on my license plate. Then she identified the exact spot of my migraines with aura—the same place I had literally sketched for my neurologist the day before.
And then came the sacred connection: she brought through my cousin’s wife, who had died in a car accident the month before, delivering details so accurate that there could be "no other explanation". When I called my cousin to share the message, he started to cry — he was holding flowers to place on her grave, because it was her birthday. I still get full-body goosebumps writing that. I received the full impact of how reassuring and healing mediumship could be.
It was also the moment I went from “this is total crap” to “holy crap - it's real!”
I went back at least six more times, each time writing down exactly who I hoped would show up and what signs they’d give (a smell, a car, a very specific inside joke). Most, not all, intentions landed, and I always received the information I needed to hear at that time. And that’s when my scientific-brain short-circuited and whispered: “Okay, something is going on here.”
Fast forward to the aftermath of the 2024 election. The collective dread and hopelessness felt like a psychic pothole I kept tripping into. I didn’t know mediums could learn their craft. I assumed you had to be born with some kind of cosmic VIP access. Turns out: nope. Anyone can learn, even later in life.
Then, as if cued by the universe’s comedic timing, an interview with Suzanne Giesemann randomly popped up on my phone while I was driving—and refused to turn off no matter how hard I smashed the buttons. Suzanne, a left-brained military commander turned medium, pulled me in instantly. Her story—especially her desire to connect with her stepdaughter across the veil after she was struck by lightning while pregnant—felt like someone had cracked open my ribcage and whispered, “Pay attention.”
As a linear-minded daughter of an engineer, Suzanne's shift from logic to intuition hit home. And like her, I wanted to reach my dad (who had Alzheimer’s) and several friends who had died by suicide.
And then the obsession hit. Once my curiosity wakes up, it behaves like the robot from Short Circuit: “MORE INPUT!” I devoured quantum physics. I took Joe Dispenza’s course on Gaia. I inhaled books. I transformed my office into an art room and rode a wild wave of creativity like it was my new emotional support animal.
The early-bliss stage arrived next: waking up from 3–5 AM every morning, connecting with spirit like some sort of ecstatic mystic-in-training. Then came the shadow work—my very own “dark night of the soul” where the universe said, “Cute enthusiasm. Now here’s all the trauma you buried.” Enter Erin Tullar (Rose Quartz Mediumship) and her somatic work, which rocked me straight out of fear and fully into my body for the first time ever.
I had a QHHT past-life regression that I initially dismissed as “wow, my imagination is really talented,” only to have the Akashic records validate it later.
Once I emerged from the "void", it took months before I could even say the word “medium” without choking on it—much less imagine leaving my speech-language pathology career for this utterly unexpected path. But the call was clear.
I started a Spiritual Avengers group—made up of colleagues who are secretly woo between faculty meetings. We’ve shared channeled poetry, made spiritual art, visited a sacred forest, journeyed shamanically, and connected deeply with the earth.
A trip to Lilydale, NY with a friend to see Suzanne Giesemann’s documentary Wolf’s Message lit another spark. We immediately registered for her immersive workshop at the Omega Institute in July 2025, which hurled me down the rabbit hole like a joyful cosmic cannonball.
At Omega, magic struck again when a woman from Erin's somatic course recognized me and introduced me to medium Nicole Pope—a straight-talking, sweary, ride-or-die guide who understands late-in-life mediumship like nobody else. I knew instantly she was my person. And if you’re looking for someone like that? Run, don’t walk, straight to Nicole.
Like a good witch, I’m now part of two mediumship communities (also Kathy Scace's Angel Whispers Intuitive Healing), trained in Level II Usui Reiki by Jessica Lantos (Rose Healing Arts), obsessed with crystals and oracle decks, and soaking in courses from folks like Lee Harris. My YouTube and podcast feeds are basically a woo buffet.
I’ve learned about galactic connections. I’ve trance-channeled ancestors. I’ve received Light Language downloads in the middle of the night. I’ve been told I’m a pattern-breaker in my family line—honestly, that checks out. I talk to a tree every day and tickle its “armpits.” (Yes, I stand by this.)
But there has been loss, too. Some of my closest friends could not walk with me into this chapter. It makes sense: I was a lifelong science person, and now I’m over here chatting with spirits and hugging trees. I’ve been told I must have brain damage, that it’s arrogant to believe I can talk to spirit, that my joy is “too much.” The grief of that has been real.
But the gift? A soul tribe—open, curious, loving—who sees and celebrates this version of me.
Today, my alignment is crystal clear. I know we are light beings. I know we are connected to Source. I know the universe is love. And I know the only thing in my way is the stubborn part of my brain that insists on thinking when it should be receiving.
So welcome. Truly. If your soul has been nudging you, whispering that something new is emerging, you’re in the right place. I hope I can help jumpstart—or amplify—your journey.
With love and gratitude,
Danra 💖
Owner, Reya Bean Creative & Soul Illumination with Danra