The Psychic Friends’ Network

Photograph by Koi Kramer

No, I’m not talking about Dionne Warwick’s “Psychic Friends’ Network” informercial-driven psychic telephone hotline.

Though, I did steal the name for this phenomenon from that infamous money-making enterprise. It is a funny, lighthearted name for something that has been an enduring part of my life since I was. a kid.

I’m talking about the thing that happens when you have a group of family and friends who are closely connected. At the risk of sounding hokey, I’ll say, deeply connected on a spiritual level.

(I’m not fond of the word, “spiritual.” It sounds so……woowoo. But, in this case, it fits.)

It’s a weird thing and when it happens, it can be subtle, or it can hit you like a hammer. It’s the kind of thing where you’re minding your own business, cleaning the house, or working on a painting or teaching a class or something and you get a niggling feeling that something isn’t quite right somewhere “out there.”

And sometimes, that’s where it ends.

You get a weird, uneasy feeling and before you can figure it out, you get a text or a phone call from your best friend that someone you both care about is sick.

Or it’s more specific. You get a feeling and then you just know one of your friends is in trouble, because you see their face or “hear” their name in your head and you call them and find out that their apartment’s on fire and they’re running out the door.

Or, you’re on the way out the door to go on a road trip and the phone rings and you almost don’t answer it because you’re on the way out, but something hurts in the pit of your stomach and you answer, and you find out from your best friends’ partner that they’re in a coma.

Or, in a lighter vein, you’re doing genealogical work on your family and find the exact Bavarian town your great-great grandparents were born in. You don’t tell anyone except your husband because it’s right before bed. The next day, a friend posts a photograph of a cuckoo clock museum in that very town on your Facebook page, because she’s right there visiting it, and she thought of you.

Or, you’re the one who’s having a hard go of it and out of the blue, you get a message on Instagram with a video of the cutest little fennic fox you’ve ever seen, sent by your kid who just knew you needed to see it right that very minute.

That’s how things happen in my world. (Yes, all of these things have happened with my circle of family and friends.)

I think it’s because our energies coalesce together, and we just—-we psychically click. We know each other so well that information flows back and forth on a subtle non-verbal, long distance communication hotline, and it keeps us connected.

Sometimes it’s scary. Sometimes it’s sad. Sometimes it’s funny.

Mostly, I find it comforting.

But at least with my group of friends and close family, it’s always there. It’s the etheric glue that holds our relationships together. And it works whether we’re getting along or not—thought it’s glitchier when you’re not in sync with each other emotionally. I also find that it extends itself outwards every year. I’ll meet a new friend and pretty soon, they’re on the Network, and I’ll think of them and bam—there’s the email they just sent. Right in my inbox.

I suspect it’s more common than most people think. I know I have not only the examples of my own personal Psychic Friends’ Network, but have heard of and read of examples from other peoples’ lives.

The most recent iteration of it for me was between my husband, Zak, and I.

Zak’s a soft skeptic. He knows things are weird, but he’s not as apt to experience the strange as I am, and he’s not as likely to credit psychic things like the ever-present Network. I mean, he knows its there, he’s seen it work, but he doesn’t talk about it.

He had a doctor’s appointment early in the morning. He left without waking me up. And, once he got to the doctor’s office, he realized he’d left without his insurance card. So, he called me, but I had my cell phone in the other room on “Do not disturb,” so it didn’t ring.

Since it didn’t ring, I didn’t hear it. I was only half asleep by that point, so I was drifting comfortably along when I heard a meandering line of melody, very soft, played on Native American flute. It wasn’t in my head. I swear I heard it with my ears.

Zak plays that instrument.

I woke all the way up, rubbing my eyes, thinking he must have been home. But of course, he wasn’t.

I got out of bed and felt compelled to see what time it was. So, I crawled out of bed, padded to the living room, picked up my phone, opened it and saw a missed call from Zak from five minutes before.

I called him and he said, “Oh, there you are. Hey, can you give me my insurance number for the doctor? I left my wallet at home.”

And I gave him the information and then blinked and said, “I didn’t hear the phone, you know. I heard you playing flute.”

He laughed and said, “Psychic Friends’ Network.”

I laughed too, and shook my head.

Saying goodbye to him, I went to make coffee, with a smile on my face.

You see, the Psychic Friends’ Network works, even if you don’t particularly believe in it or take it seriously.

As Morganna later said to me, “Well, the Psychic Friends’ Network believes in you, even if you don’t believe in it.”

Yeah, I find that pretty darned comforting.