My Magic Lights & Spiritual Orbs

By Peggy Weber

As a small girl playing on the banks by the river, in her little old village in Ireland, Peggy used to see what she called her magic lights. But little did she know, how these lights were actually spiritual beings, that would later become known as ‘orbs’! In a true love story between two worlds, this is a tragic and romantic story of Peggy’s life growing up in Catholic Ireland when ‘spirits’ were not to be spoken about!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Jan 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781982277673

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 Peggy Weber.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

The moral right of Peggy Weber as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Designs, and Patents Act of 1988.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

844-682-1282

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-7766-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-7767-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021924132

Balboa Press rev. date: 01/26/2022

17621.pngImage%20(1).jpg

My Magic Lights

CONTENTS

1 Earliest Memories

2 ‘Never Be Frightened,’ Said Mammy...

3 I was the happiest, proudest girl in all the world

4 ‘I was dragged under the swirling water....’

5 England Seemed A very long way away.....

6 Daddy’s Idea of an emergency wasn’t the same as mine!

7 Tony looked so handsome in his grey suit

8 I’d catch a bright globe like a shimmering bubble

9 I’ve got a present for you babe,’ said Tony proudly

10 Instantly I was transported back to the riverbank in Ireland

11 So What is an Orb?

12 Evidence Orbs & My questions answered Through The Lens

13 The Grand Children race with their Grandad!

14 Sacred Sites

15 Journey From Orbs to healing

16 Misty Images

Dedication

With Special Thanks

Acknowledgements

****

Testimonials

Summary

About the Author

IN DEDICATION TO....

In dedication to my wonderful Mother and Grandmother both of whom guided me well, from such a young age, at the start of what would become my spiritual journey.

Also, my dear Dad for teaching me how to use my spiritual insight wisely and always in an honourable way.

My wonderful husband and soul mate Tony, from whom I learned a lot about true love and of course, I especially dedicate this book to our four wonderful children, Teresa, Pat, Paul and Phil and our fantastic Grandchildren too, Charlie, George, Jaide, Danielle, Ruby and Tony, and great grandchild Callum.

Last but not least, in dedication to our very much missed and loved family members now in spirit, but clearly still with us!

WITH SPECIAL THANKS.....

Upon discussing the possibility of writing this book and not knowing where to start, I was introduced to a lovely lady called Linda Dearsley. During our first meeting, Linda filled me in on her background and casually produced one of the books she had written for ‘Doris Stokes’ (famous professional medium of the 1970’s/80’s. Doris was also the first ever medium to appear at the London Palladium, with ticket sales sold out within two hours).

After a very interesting meeting, when Linda had left, I had the feeling to try and communicate with Doris in spirit. In my mind, being introduced to Linda was no coincidence and I had a strong feeling that with the help of higher powers, Doris had helped put Linda in my path!

As a thank you, I just had to place Doris’s book ‘Voices in my Ear’ on the chair and take a photo to see what I would get.

This resulting photo on the next page and just blew us away!

What a wonderful sign I had been given.

Linda is now a dear friend and I can’t thank her enough for all her hard work, guidance and support she has given me in getting my own book produced!

Incredibly, the clear image inside this orb, is the outline of a person. during the first discussion to write a book about my spiritual experiences in collaboration with Linda Dearsley, could this seemingly be the image of Doris Stokes?......

Too many coincidences for it to be a coincidence perhaps.

Image%20(2).jpgImage%20(3).jpg

Image%20(4).jpg

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

With special thanks to my daughter Pat for the production and design of ‘My Magic Lights.’ With the support of both Linda Dearsley, for helping me to get my life story written and my daughter Pat, for the many, sometimes frustrating hours putting this book together. This journey had been a lot longer and tougher than we thought, but it really has been a labour of love too!

Also, not forgetting my dear brother Michael Nealis, who I sincerely thank for his unwavering support over the years. Michael, also took the lovely photo of the bridge where we grew up, used on the front cover.

Since this book went to production, sadly my dear brother Michael has passed to spirit. He was my true inspiration and I know he looks over us all - giving us signs of his love never ending.

We had many great laughs out late at night with ‘the lads’ during our trips when taking photos in the pitch black to see what we would get!

∞CHAPTER 1∞

EARLIEST MEMORIES

It was an exciting day! I was four years old and we were moving out of my grandmother’s cottage for the very first time and into a home of our own, a brand new council house, in the nearby village of Ballyragget, Kilkenny.

Mammy piled up the big old Silvercross pram with our belongings and off we went down Cool Lane and into Moate Road, me and my younger brother Richard, holding tightly to the side of the pram.

Mammy was in a happy mood as we trundled briskly along, the old pram springs squeaking over the pot holes, with my brown-ribboned plaits bouncing off my shoulders and Richard’s little feet running to keep up. Past the sugar beet fields where Mammy often worked, we went on, beside the green meadow with a huge grey water tower in it.

Up and up into the sky, the water tower rose and my wondering four year old eyes went up and up towards the clouds with it. Then I gasped, my feet dragged and I let go of the pram. All around the top of the tower were the loveliest lights with lifelike people, a man in rich red robes with some sort of head-dress on his head, a woman in a beautiful blue gown with a veil on her head and other brightly coloured people all hovering around the top of the building like glorious glowing butterflies! ‘Oh Mammy, look at all the lovely people on top of the tower’. I said. Mammy looked warily from me to the top of the tower and back again. ‘Where?’ ‘Up there, on top of the tower’, I said, pointing. ‘There is a man and a lady and lots of others, some standing, and some kneeling down like this’. I dropped down on my knees in the dust to imitate them. Mammy pulled me up and put my hand firmly back on the pram. ‘Now that’s enough Peg’, she said. ‘Come on, pick your feet up and not a word to anyone, do you hear?’ And on we went again, with me looking back over my shoulder at the lovely people, until the water tower disappeared from sight.

A few weeks later, now settled into our new home, Mammy took my brother Richard and I to the local Church. Christmas was approaching and a nativity scene had been set up in front of the altar. A donkey and some dear little sheep immediately attracted my eye. Then I noticed the other figures standing with them in the straw. ‘Oh look Mammy!!’, I cried in delight, ‘that’s the people from the top of the tower’, except they were not moving in the Church like they were in the tower and later on I knew these to be nativity characters.

‘Whished’ (sshhhush) Peg for heaven’s sake!’ said Mammy, ‘The Priest’ll hear you.’

You didn’t argue with Mammy, so I bit my lip, but it was difficult as there were so many things you weren’t supposed to talk about.

I was born Margaret Nealis on July 10th 1944, the oldest of thirteen surviving children, born to my Mother Bridget and my Father Hubert. (Poor Mammy had seventeen children I am told, but lost four). The story goes that we were originally called ‘McNealis’, but my grandad was so afraid of the ‘Banshee’, the legendary Irish wailing ghost - that he changed the family name. Apparently, according to ancient Folklore, legend has it, the Banshee followed all those with the name ‘Mac’ and if her awful howling cry was ever heard, one family member would die within three days!

My grandfather was so scared of the Banshee following him, that he dropped the ‘Mac’, from his name to throw her off the scent and we became the ‘Nealis’ family from then on. It seemed to have worked, as none of us ever heard the Banshee! For some reason, Daddy never called me Margaret, but always Peg and that name stuck too. But then we had a lot of nick names in our family. Mammy was known as ‘Diddle’ ever since Daddy bought a little apron home from the army, which had little characters on the front depicting the famous nursery rhyme, ‘Hey Diddle, Diddle, the Cat and the Fiddle’, when the cow jumped over the moon. I expect he jokingly shouted out at Mammy the name ‘Diddle’ and that stuck too! Richard became Dick and my grandparents were lovingly known as Muddy and Daddy Cool, because they lived in Cool lane. Though her real name was Bridie and his was Ned.

Daddy was a sergeant in the Army and lived away initially at the army base in Kildare. He later moved on to Custom Barracks, Athlone, Co Westmeath. So for our first few years, Mammy, Dick and I lived in Cool Lane with Muddy and Daddy Cool in their tiny thatched cottage, a few miles from the village. It was idyllic and surrounded by lilac trees and climbing plants with a little vegetable patch.

There was no electricity or running water and one of my earliest memories was of Dick and I, when we were very small being put by the fire in two old fashioned tea chests to use as play pens, Dick in one and me in the other.