The Clairsentience Experiment: A Guide to Experiencing and Understanding the Unseen

Chapter 1. My Personal Awakening. A Journey into Clairsentience

Childhood: Sensing the Unseen World

My journey with clairsentience began in childhood. From a young age, I felt the world around me was incredibly alive. Growing up in a windy town, I’d listen to leaves swooshing and couldn't shake the feeling the place was full of spirits. Looking at the moon felt like connecting with an ancient goddess; even my own shadow seemed like a companion. By age eight, a part of me knew this was likely my imagination, and that others didn’t share these perceptions. Yet, I chose to enjoy it anyway.

At night, I’d hold conversations in my head with these “spirits” and with people I knew had died. Seeing a photo of a cousin who passed away at eleven, I felt an immediate link to her and searched for her spirit in my aunt’s house. Logically, it made no sense, but the feeling that her presence lingered there was hauntingly real.

Learning about angels in school only deepened this sense of a hidden world, always present and waiting to be noticed. I also learned a early, crucial lesson: what I felt was real and important to me, even if it was subjective and others might dismiss it as imagination. This was my first understanding of a "dual truth."

The Seeker’s Path: Exploration and Return

Around fourteen, I slowly set this intuitive world aside. It felt pointless to nurture an internal reality that the external world didn’t reflect, as if I were outgrowing it. My teenage and young adult years became a time of spiritual exploration. I dipped into the Law of Attraction, returned briefly to Christianity, and developed an interest in Eastern religions like Hinduism and Buddhism.

A beautiful pattern emerged. I felt a divine presence in a church, and I also felt it in my meditation room at home. It seemed that whenever I opened a window in my mind, something spiritual would enter. I learned it didn’t matter which path I used to connect; each one led to enriching experiences. This curiosity led me to study New Age philosophy, chakras, Reiki, the I Ching, and tarot, each adding layers to my spiritual understanding.

This period of study culminated in a shift. No longer a child, I decided to consciously tune into the invisible—not through childhood imagination, but through disciplined spiritual practice. This meant meditation.

Meditation: The Doorway Reopens

My deep immersion into meditation in my late twenties reawakened the ability I had as a child. For almost eight years, I committed to this practice, sometimes meditating for three hours at a time. It calmed my mind, not to erase thought, but to become a better listener—to hear what reality might be whispering.

About four years in, my practice evolved into what I now call “clairsentient explorations.” Instead of meditating on silence or the divine in general, I began consciously tuning into the spiritual layer of my daily life. I would focus on a specific person, place, or situation and ask, “What do I truly feel from this?” I held onto the principle of dual truth, mindful that my feelings could be completely wrong, but I proceeded with curious attention.

A Life Revolutionized by Feeling

This simple shift revolutionized my life. In conversations, I paid less attention to people’s words and more to how they made me feel. At events or new places, I checked in with my internal sense of the environment. I evaluated job offers by asking, “How do I feel about this?”

This practice led to significant awakenings. I saw how shallow some of my relationships were, realizing attachments I mistook for mutual friendship. I also discovered comfort in grief, often sensing a comforting presence or an echo of a loved one’s voice, which provided solace regardless of its “realness.”

I started to verify these feelings against reality. Often, they were accurate. I would know things I seemingly had no way of knowing. Once, I touched a parcel sent to my husband and immediately felt it was from his mother, a fact I only confirmed later. These moments of validation taught me to trust this internal sense as a genuine, guiding faculty of its own.

Chapter 2. Navigating Dual Truth. The Impact of Clairsentience on My Life

Learning to See the Internal Split

As my sensitivity grew, the people closest to me began to notice. I would share an intuitive thought, and later it would prove accurate. When I started reading tarot, I’d caution that it might not resonate, but others insisted I had a gift. I, too, felt the readings were often correct. My trust in clairsentience grew so strong that I began to rely more on my internal feelings than on what others told me. This revealed a profound split in human interaction: what people say and what they truly feel are often different.

I started an internal experiment. I would listen to the feeling I received from a person while still honoring the words they spoke. I made a personal rule: I would take people at their word. If someone insisted a situation was “A,” I wouldn’t argue for my intuitive sense of “B.” I respected that they had their reasons for their narrative. Yet, within myself, I held the dual truth—their stated “A” and my felt “B”—until reality might eventually reveal the deeper layer.

This taught me that people often speak a socially acceptable truth while concealing their inner reality. I was sensing the gap between persona and interior self. However, I continued to honor their spoken word. To claim I knew their feelings better than they did would be presumptuous. My practice became to accept what was said outwardly while quietly noting my internal impression for later reflection.

Distinguishing Energy: Connection vs. Contraction

Of course, some people are exactly what they say they are. I encountered individuals whose words carried a cruel or dismissive energy. As someone inclined to see the good in everyone, this was a difficult lesson.