Editor’s Note: Lorrie is one of the psychics certified by the Edgar Cayce Institute for Intuitive Studies (go to…) and has contributed frequently to our webazine. Lorrie has her own website at http://www.ilovemypsychic.com, complete with her own psychic newsletter and free weekly prosperity meditation.

When I was traveling in Ireland I had an odd experience, even for me. I'm used to TVs turning on and off or not letting me turn them on or off.

Lights flickering, or blowing out, an occasional pillow flinging itself across the room, and of course, the constant disappearance and reappearance of objects.

There are possible explanations for all of that. Power surges, misprogrammed remotes. Though the electrician, the handyman, and the computer repair person have all asked me if I have ghosts.

Just because I work as a psychic doesn't mean that I automatically assume everything is paranormal, even if some things are.

However, in Ireland I was caught off guard. Three hours after boarding the Dublin bus, I arrived at my stop in Northern Ireland. (This is without counting the hour standing in line because the bus was delayed by the horrendous traffic in which I’d just been stuck.)

Limping from a sprained ankle, though crutches still in hand, I firmly grasped the paper containing the phone numbers I needed to call so I could be met at the station and driven to my final destination. I also held several less important papers underneath it.

Thus I encountered the intricacies of Northern Ireland's public phone; the first hurdle being switching back from Euros used in the South to pounds and pence employed in the North.

If you’re more of a left-brained, linear type of thinker, the idea of a public phone posing a problem seems ludicrous. But for some of us it’s easier to read auras than contemplate an instruction card.

Juggling my shoulder bag, crutches, and firmly clutching the sheet with numbers, I stood in at the phone attempting to decipher which of the unreadable coins formed 30 pence, the amount required for a call.

Suddenly I felt a slight whoosh on my hand, as if something subtle had happened but I wasn't sure what. When I looked closer I saw that the page I needed was gone, as if the wind had carried it away, although there was no wind. The other papers were still in place.

Passengers waiting on nearby benches watched as I frantically searched the booth, the ground, even tramping across the street. I picked up whatever was strewn about but none was the magically disappeared paper. Now I couldn't call even if I figured out the money.

What to do? The first thing was getting over my shock. I reminded myself how many psychokinetic experiences I’ve had. Sure, this one was mind-boggling and no one would probably believe me.

It was so gentle and yet so odd. I couldn’t rationalize an explanation. And I still needed to get back up the winding hills to the home where I was staying.

I had the feeling that the friend with whom I was staying was close by and looking for me. I certainly felt like an easy to notice spectacle, dashing about—to whatever extent I could, given the injury to my ankle—trying to find that all-important paper.

I could feel his presence but I couldn’t see him. “You need to accept this and move on,” I thought. “It is what it is… whatever that is.”

And here I had to confront my feelings of helplessness. I was in a rural part of a foreign country. I’m used to the luxury of driving myself where I need to go, and on the opposite side of the road. Perhaps I live in the myth of self-reliance, but this self felt injured, baffled and over-tired.

Hadn’t I gone to Ireland to rest, receive more care, get my inner balance back? Staying in a beautiful home in the green hills was wonderfully restful but far from easy transportation. I felt dependent.

I’d rallied myself to go off to meet a psychic friend in Dublin, Dublin the city I’d considered the answer to all dreams. But Dublin wasn’t the same as I remembered from the year before.

It had become more densely populated, trees torn out, more building going on, an unbearable amount of traffic, and filled with people from every country, seemingly outnumbering the Irish.

Now back in the North, I stood by the phone and glanced over at a line of taxis. Here’s another admission: Cabs make me nervous--I’m not sure why—probably it started after a late-night trip in France years before when the cabbie wouldn’t let me out and I finally jumped out when he came to a brief stop.

In Ireland, I suddenly I had a sense and/or strangely remembered there was one of the very few buses scheduled around that time that could take me where I needed to go.

Fortunately, my feeling was right. Ten minutes and the bus would take me, and for very little money. I’d just have to trust my senses to help me know where to descend.

What could I learn from this? Everything was in perfect order even when if it didn’t fit my pictures. Certainly I was protected.

The perfection of finding that last bus was empowering and let me know that I could get around the countryside, at least to some extent, on my own.

I was reminded by this simple upset that there was a power greater than myself at work. I was taken care of in ways I didn't plan. It was also a reminder about being in the moment.

When I reached my destination, I was greeted by my friend who, it turns out, had searched for me, just as I’d thought but we somehow missed seeing each other.

Later, I emailed my friend Sue, a medium working in Dublin, and told her my phone booth story.

"That is called an apport, isn't it?" she emailed back. She may have even added lol to remind me not to take it too seriously.

"Someone else would have had the paper appear and are probably scratching their heads too," she said.

So what exactly is an apport? Does it come from the French word, apporter, meaning to send? Ironically, some of the best definitions come from the skeptic websites. They are certainly the websites that come up first in google's list. And truthfully, I'd be skeptical too if it hadn't happened to me.

From skepdic.com: "An apport is an object allegedly materializing during a séance. Believers see apports as signs or gifts from spirits. Skeptics see them as evidence of conjuring.

Good magicians and good mediums can produce objects seemingly out of nowhere and nothing. They can also make objects seem to disappear. When a medium does this it is referred to as a deport."

"Teleportation is the act or process of moving an object or person by psycho kinesis. The term originated with Charles Fort, though he used it to describe magical transport between Earth and the heavens."

That site even refers us to a book called The Psychic Mafia. Ah, finally to be part of a group! (Actually, I’ve since read that book and have an article on it forthcoming.)

The next logical question is what does it mean? Why does the TV turn on at a particular time, why was that paper whisked from my hand? I'm not a conjurer. I've always avoided magic shows because I hate to be fooled. What's the point of watching something that looks real and isn't?

Certainly apports, or any form of telekinetic energy, tell us that reality is far greater than we may ordinarily perceive. In the shamanic sense, it tells me that everything is fluid, movable, not static.

When I have a lot of telekinetic experiences, I take it as an opportunity to slow down and manage my energy and become more balanced. In this instance, I also took it as a cue to develop and expand my mediumistic skills.

“You don’t mean me,” the youngest child in fairy tales often says. And yet it’s that least-expected child who ends up saving the realm.

We expect that only some people are chosen for greatness, but we live in extraordinary times, and maybe it’s up to all of us to realize and develop our own possibilities.

We can always become more consciousness. If you’re like me, you don’t like to do things until you can get them right. I’m often waiting until I have time, inspiration, and of course when it comes to articles such as this, my issues of perfection play against deadlines...

But maybe extraordinary times call us to remember who we truly are and that a higher power can and does express through us.

“Thoughts are things,” Edgar Cayce said. Also, “Use what’s been given and more will be added.”

“Not me,” Moses said to God, “I can’t speak to people. I’m a stutterer.”

Clearly imperfect, yet the right person for the job. And he didn’t do it alone. His life had been preparing him for the very journey he would take.

We may never be Moses, or a leader on that level, but that story was passed down to us and we can extract meanings from it that teach us how to live our lives today.

Remember, it’s not generally the most able in fairytales who bring s back the treasure; it’s often the least likely…and what does that tell us?

In the Omagh station I’d retreated into my isolated but perfectionist section of the emotional universe. Some people would have (a) learned the pound system beforehand, or (b) tossed in whatever coins they had and made the call. But I was trying to do it right, and then the paper was gone, and I couldn’t do it at all, so doing it right didn’t matter.

The loss of the numbers brought me back to present time and certainly raised the issue of connectedness.

It tells me to surrender my mind, to be present in the moment, and if I “use what’s been given…more will be added.”

Even when I judge my life skills as not good enough, I’m still in the game, and I assume I’m here for a reason.

Our thoughts, prayers, and ideas have vibrations. Something disappeared the paper, moves objects, flicks on TVs. It could be some part of me, or the ghost of my mother.

And just maybe it’s a wink from the Universe saying none of us is ever alone. So much of what we stress over doesn’t matter.

We can risk looking foolish, unprepared. “Nobody’s ever ready,” Werner Erhard, founder of EST, once said.

Perfectionists believe they will be.