Some Experiential Examples of How Clairaudience Works

I was a teenager when I had my first clairaudient experience. I was in my hometown, walking alone, at night, in a quiet, empty park. All of a sudden, by my left ear, I heard a soft, kind voice. “Look up, and you’ll see a shooting star.” The vaguely masculine-sounding voice, I knew, was not my own, nor was it exactly that of another person, either. It felt like it was coming from an external source, but at the same time, I knew it wasn’t that of a flesh-and-blood person. Still, it felt completely natural and reassuring. I looked up, and at that very moment, a beautiful shooting star streaked across the sky.

Apart from lucid dreams, that was one of the few times I’ve ever had an unplanned clairaudient experience, and one of only two times in which the voice seemed to be coming from an external source. Let me make this clear: Healthy clairaudience is not the same thing as the kinds of uncontrolled hallucinations that plague people with schizophrenia. (Some psychics do feel that there is some overlap between this kind of mental illness and being clairaudiently susceptible to interference from lower-vibration entities, but as I, luckily, have no experience of such disturbing phenomena, I cannot say for sure.) While this isn’t always the case, the most common form of clairaudience feels almost exactly the same as thinking verbally, in your head. You will hear your own voice articulating a word or a sentence that can be verified as objectively true, or meaningful in some other way. However, instead of actively formulating a thought, you are passively allowing the thought to come to you. If you are practicing your psychic skills with a solid foundation of well-grounded discipline, you should be able to switch it on and off at will through consciously tuning in and out. Everyone can do this with practice.

My clairaudience picked up in a more structured way quite recently, and has, for now, become my strongest, most reliable clair-sense. I realized that I had been activated in this way one evening when I was attending a psychic development circle, fairly early on in my studies of evidential mediumship. We were sitting in meditation, seeing if we could pass on any messages to the people who were present. A gifted woman sitting across from me in the circle had communicated a message, from a male presence, to a man sitting next to me. The man suspected that the spirit coming through was his neighbor from a previous home, but wasn’t quite convinced. “He says you own some plaid shirts you inherited from him,” she said. Yes, this was correct. As this conversation was happening, within my meditative state, my thoughts suddenly formed the name “Katie,” and then, what I thought was “Karate-Katie.” Then, I saw a woman with her hair in a brown bob, wearing the uniform of a flight attendant. My inner eye wandered through the plane in which she worked, like she was giving me a tour. I felt the energy of a person who was very playful and fun to be around. “Is there a Katie?” I asked. “Because I’m seeing a woman with a brown bob, named Katie, possibly nicknamed Karate-Katie, with a playful personality, who works as a flight attendant.” The man sitting next to me perked up. “Wait, is she alive or dead?” “I don’t know, but since she’s coming through, it would make sense that she would be dead, no?” “I’m asking because that’s my neighbor’s wife. But her name is Kristie, not Katie, and she’s still alive.” I had picked up on additional information the neighbor in question had been sending through to identify himself.

At the time this happened, I felt somewhat frustrated that what could have been such specific evidence had gotten garbled in transit. I had had experiences before, in lucid dreams, in which I had precognitively heard snippets of the names of people I would encounter for the first time the following day, along with claircognizant impressions pertaining to them. (An example of this was knowing that a taxi driver whose cab I would ride in had the name of a Roman emperor ending in -“ius.” It turned out to be Julius.) I wanted to get full names! I wanted hard proof! My instructor told me to relax. Why get frustrated with this one little glitch, when I had also been able to bring forth an occupation, a personality and an appearance? I still wanted to do better.

Sometime later, I was experiencing a psychic growth spurt after having figured out how to do clairaudient dictation. One day, while on my lunch break from working on a film set, I was sitting in a quiet corner, practicing my writing. My thoughts drifted back to the seance in which I had brought through Kristie’s garbled name. I thought to myself: “Next time, I’ll just ask outright: Can I get a name?” Now, I didn’t mean to actually ask the question at that moment, but immediately, my thoughts responded clairaudiently, as if answering it: “Alvarez.” Taken aback, I tuned back into my inner voice. I guessed my guides were still on the line. “OK. Alvarez who?” I asked. “Lou. Pilot.” I wrote it all down. It all seemed to come so out of the blue. How could I know if it had anything to do with an actual person?

Since I had no other way of verifying anything, still on my lunch break, I decided to google the information that had come through. I discovered that there existed a man by the name of Luis Alvarez, who had won the Nobel prize in physics. He had been an avid pilot, and among many other things, had developed breakthrough innovations in aircraft navigation. (Again with the airplanes!) He had also made use of cosmic rays to search for hidden chambers in an Egyptian pyramid, and was famous for his theory about an asteroid collision leading to the extinction of dinosaurs. This guy was certainly extraordinary, but, I thought to myself, all this could certainly be chalked up to confirmation bias. There was no way to know for sure. It might just be a coincidence.

I turned my thoughts back to the mediumistic process and clairaudience. Somewhat randomly, I thought to myself: “I wonder if answers ever come in the form of questions?” Again, the answer, unsolicitedly, instantly formed itself in my head: “How are we doing?” I smiled to myself. My guides seemed to be having fun treating my inner monologue as dialogue.

Thirty minutes later, my lunch break had ended, and my foreman walked up to me with a new prop he was preparing for a scene. We were working on a period piece set in 80s New York City, and the prop was an old newspaper with a picture of Mayor Ed Koch on the front page. My foreman said: “What’s that thing this guy was so famous for saying all the time? How am I doing? Yeah, that’s it!” He shifted his voice into a throaty imitation of the politician: “How am I doing? How am I doing? How am I doing?” he repeated. I had to take a moment to stop my jaw from dropping on the floor.

Since these experiences, my track record with bringing through complete names on a first try has gotten better. When they do come across garbled, it’s usually the middle letters that are swapped out, or the pronunciations that are slightly off. (”Tom” can sound like “Tim,” and “Marie” can sound like “Mary.”) The whole process is fascinating to me. As I’ve written before, learning to tune in clairaudiently is like learning to tune a radio to a specific frequency and tune out the interference. When what we hear is getting slightly broken up or scrambled, it is good to be able to back it up with other psychic impressions that are claircognizant, clairvoyant, clairsentient, etc.. But the key thing I have learned is to be patient with my development and appreciate every bit of information that comes through. Every little step of progress adds up in the long term.

Have you ever had a precognitive or clairaudient experience that seemed irrefutable? Did it change the way you thought about intuition, and the precision of the information we have the ability to bring through?