I have been using white light for protection since about 1983. My sister will phone me, nervous before a plane trip, and say: "Kathy, white-light me please!" I white-light my children; I white-light my garden vegetables and flowers and houseplants and the crops on our farm with a white-light blanket, when I hear raindrops turning into hail. When I feel worried about anyone, I white-light them. When I see horrific news stories on TV, I white-light the victims and yes, the perpetrators. I white-light the earth, the universe, the past, the present, and the future.

In the early days of my use of white light, I lived in a tiny town in northern Saskatchewan. One evening I had invited two young gentlemen over for supper. One of them had arrived, and the other one was on his way, driving over a curving highway. The road was slippery with spring snow and slush, and the second young man was late, so my guest and I decided to put our heads together and white-light him as a little insurance.

When the second fellow finally arrived, he told us that he had been coming around a dangerous curve when his vehicle started sliding straight for a deep ditch. Then, suddenly, it straightened itself out and carried on as if it had never gone awry. My first guest and I looked at each other as our jaws dropped, mutually calculating that the time he had been at that curve was the exact moment we had been white-lighting him.

It was a small but powerful reinforcement on a physical level that yes indeed, white light has a tangible effect on life as we know it. You could say it was a coincidence. But we didn’t think so at the time, and I still don’t.

I’ve been a whitelighter ever since.