Oh dear, Sylvia

Until recently, I had never seen a media psychic. I mean, aside from having caught a couple of John Edward’s Crossing Over episodes, or having seen Sylvia on Montel, or the show where Ted Danson played James Van Praagh. I had an interest in doing it sometime, just to have the experience of seeing a colleague work in this manner, but the opportunity didn’t present itself until this summer.

the show

A friend of mine and I decided we’d try to make it over to see Sylvia Browne when we heard she was going to be in the area. Things fell into place so that could happen in a rather odd sort of way – the kind of way that left me trying to think of what could be so important that I see her. I wasn’t sure, but though it was possible it could be even more interesting to see Sonia Choquette, who was the opening speaker.

It was interesting observing the presentations, and I felt like I was going to come away with a fairly positive impression. Sonia had done an excellent job of “priming” the audience to sit thru another 90 minutes of talk, and Sylvia broke up some of her ranting and raving to drop in bits of information from her Secrets and Mysteries book. It impressed me that she was willing to take questions from as many people as she did. But then….

witness

I knew something would occur that I’d be there to witness. As Sylvia opted to call on more audience members to approach the two microphones set at opposite sides of the stage. This was in order that they might each ask one question of her. My friend hoped they would call my number to go up there. I told her it wouldn’t happen, as I didn’t really have anything to ask of her and even if I had it wouldn’t be something like what these other people are needing to know. I was right – that I didn’t end up at the microphone. But another woman did, she was an older woman who simply wanted to ask about her brother.

She stood at the mic, facing Sylvia and started to speak. “We have not heard from my brother in four years and I want….” With that, without the courtesy of letting the woman even finish her question, Sylvia cut her off and forcefully exclaimed, “He’s dead!” and with that said, she turned right around to her left and asked for the next person in line to give the next question. Moved right along: no compassion, no respect, no concern. The woman nearly collapsed to the ground in her overwhelming grief, but for a complete stranger in the audience who jumped up to hold and comfort her as she cried the tears of someone whose hope was just ripped from her heart in that one moment of callousness, by one woman who ought to know better. I sat there in disbelief.

compassion

I know that my outlook on death is very different now. I know that my way of addressing grief or managing that sadness is very different. But again, as anyone who puts his or herself out there to invite others to speak to us about their innermost concerns, or to learn about the continuity of life, it is our obligation and responsibility to not forget that the people who come to us would not likely be asking for help if they had the same perceptions and understanding of life, death, grief, or sorrow. It’s our responsibility to hold compassion for others and respect for their situations at highest priority. It makes me very sad to have been witness to that. On the other hand, I’m grateful for the reminder to just “Be kind.”

as simple as reassurance

I wasn’t really surprised Sylvia would act in such a way, because I have seen her brazen attitude displayed on television previously. What did surprise me was that I actually saw it with my own eyes and saw in that instant that she has lost all compassion. To leave any person who comes to us for council in a more dire state than when they came in is reprehensible. That woman could have been so distracted through her tears she could have walked onto the street five minutes later and been struck by a bus. And what would it have taken to alter that? Addressing the same question in a different way.

Allowing the woman to be able to ask her question without being abruptly cut off. Only a few words of kindness perhaps. Saying something like, I’m sorry, but he has passed away….or passing along a message of reassurance to her from the brother… or just simply reassuring her and reminding her the life does continue… or telling her how her brother lets her family know he is still with them. In well under five minutes, the entire interaction could have been very different. I could go into how there might have been information or other staff (or even some of Sylvia’s grand ministers) there to provide some “after shock” care…but good grief.