It was April in Iowa, which means the kind of weather that can't make up its mind. I slipped on my jacket before heading to my friend Katie's house, and before I left, I did something I hadn't told anyone about.
I took my mother's pearl necklace, a simple strand of cream pearls with a tarnished clasp tucked inside a small suede bag and slipped it into a pocket of my jacket.
Katie had told us ahead of time that the medium we were going to see, John Baca, had a suggestion. If there was a loved one you hoped to hear from, bring a personal item of theirs. He said it helped him connect. So, I brought the necklace, but I didn't tell Katie I had it. I didn't tell anyone in that room.
This was the only way to see if it would happen organically.
There was a dozen of us sitting in a big circle on a variety of furniture in her living room. John stood in the middle of us and would simply turn to whoever had someone coming through for them. One by one, people received their messages. It was an emotional experience.
I slid off my jacket when I got there, laying it on the couch behind me. The necklace was still tucked away in the pocket.
I was one of the last people John turned to.
Most of us have something we keep because getting rid of it feels wrong. An old sweater. A coffee mug. A piece of jewelry tucked away in a drawer. What if those objects are holding more than memories?
Objects Absorb the Energy of the People Who Love Them
When John turned to me that afternoon, he said he had someone coming through. Female, on my mother's side. My grandmother.
"She said you have a necklace of hers with you." As I reached back for my jacket, I thought to myself, well it's not my grandmother's necklace, but impressive that there was a connection to it.
But before I could pull the necklace out, John corrected himself. He said, "She said, no, it's not her necklace, it's your mom's."
I laughed out loud. That was one hundred percent my grandmother. Not rude, just wonderfully precise. The kind of person who would absolutely interrupt to make sure the details were right.
I held the suede bag out and John took it in both hands. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked right at me and said, wow. She was an amazing person.
The tears immediately flowed down my face.
He had never met my mother. He didn't know her name. No one in that room knew I had brought the necklace. And yet he held a strand of simple cream pearls inside a little suede bag and felt her. Her personality. Her presence. Her love.
That is what an energetic imprint is. The people we love don't just touch our lives. They leave something of themselves behind, absorbed into the ordinary objects that passed through their hands, sat on their dresser, rested against their skin.
The necklace wasn't expensive. I don't even know if the pearls are real. But it was hers. And that was enough.
An Energetic Imprint Can Be Felt, Even by a Stranger
There is a word for what John Baca does. It is called psychometry, the ability to read the energy stored in a physical object. And while not everyone can do what John does, the principle behind it is not mystical. It is physics.
Last week we talked about how everything is energy, how atoms are mostly empty space and pure vibration, and how nothing is as solid as it appears. That same principle applies here. When a person interacts with an object over time, their energy becomes part of it. Their emotions, their habits, their love. It gets absorbed the way warmth gets absorbed into a stone left in the sun.
That is exactly what John felt when he held my mother's necklace. Not a memory. Not a guess. The frequency of a woman he didn't know, absorbed into those pearls worn on special occasions, touching them, keeping them close. The object remembered her. And he could feel it.
The Objects You Keep Are Keeping Something for You
Something else happened that day at Katie's house that also felt profound.
Near the end of my reading, John saw my mom holding a cake. A symbol of someone's birthday. A few weeks earlier, my daughter had celebrated her birthday, so I mentioned that. He passed along she was saying happy birthday and we moved on.
But something in my gut didn't quite settle. Despite the special bond they had, it didn't feel like my daughter was who my mom was celebrating.
When I got home, I opened Facebook. My mom's sister had just posted photos from her youngest granddaughter's first birthday party. Little Sophia, who was born a few years after my mom had passed. The party was happening that same weekend.
My mom was there. Celebrating her great-niece.
Objects hold what we cannot always carry ourselves. The grief. The pride. The love that doesn't stop just because someone is gone. And the things you can't imagine giving up, they are not clutter. They are connection.
You don't have to be a medium to feel it. You just have to be willing to pay attention.
This week, I invite you to pick up one object in your home that belonged to someone you love. Hold it. Be still with it. Notice what comes up, what you feel in your heart, what memory comes up.
That is an energetic imprint speaking. It has been waiting for you to listen.
What are you keeping, and what is it keeping for you?
In The Driver's Seat Podcast
Every week I show up on my podcast the same way I show up here, with real stories, honest conversation, and the kind of talk that makes you think about your life differently. Come find me wherever you get your podcasts.
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