Mich Carpenter: Heart in Human Form

Little Mich

Mich Carpenter is a medium, channeller, energy healer and telepathic communicator based in New Zealand. Through her work, she supports families navigating grief, awakening and expanded communication, holding space with honesty, humour and heart.

Q. For those meeting you for the first time, how would you describe who you are and what you do?

First and foremost, I am a wife and a mother. And I’m learning to be a lover of life.

I would say I am a heart activator. I tune into the vibration of the heart, which is love. Our hearts know.

There are other labels people use for me, telepathic communicator, spiritual medium, channeler, energy healer. But for me, it’s really about being multidimensional, which we all are.

Q. Before the labels like healer or channel, who are you at your core?

That’s a great question. No one’s actually asked me that before.

At my core, I am light, having a human experience.

That’s it.

I’m learning to love life. To laugh. To be weird and wacky and funny. To not take things personally. To be as authentic and truthful as I can.

At my core, I’m just walking the journey of being human.

Q. What usually surprises people most when they really get to know you?

That I’m just real.

I’m normal.

And I have humility.

People sometimes assume I’ve got everything together. And when I show vulnerability, when I share that I still cry, that I still feel, that my husband and I argue, that sometimes life unravels, it surprises them.

I like sharing that.

Because life is a dance.

And the truth is, none of us have it all figured out.

Q. Can you tell me about your journey? How did you end up on this path?

My divorce set me on my path.

When I found out my ex-husband was having an affair, something in me broke open.

I went to see a clairvoyant. The one thing I remember him saying was, “You just don’t know how to love yourself.”

At the time, I didn’t want to hear that. I was furious. I wanted help with my anger. I felt like I wanted to annihilate men. That was the depth of my rage.

But I didn’t realise that anger had been living in me for a very long time, since I was a teenager.

Around that same time, I began to understand that sexual abuse had been part of my childhood. I hadn’t even fully recognised it for what it was.

I was 33 years old.

The clairvoyant suggested I go away for a healing weekend. I thought I was going for a quick fix for my divorce.

It became something much deeper.

Mich and her daughter Gabi

Q. What shifted for you on that weekend?

It was nine years after I had accidentally knocked over and killed a young girl.

That grief had never been processed properly.

The facilitator I ended up with was tough. I didn’t like her at first. But she was one of the greatest teachers of my life.

She pushed me to feel what I had buried.

I cried harder than I ever had. It felt like my head split open. I was hot and cold, confused, shaking. They put me to bed that night with headache tablets because my system was overwhelmed.

I remember thinking, “I came here to fix my anger.”

But something much deeper was happening.

That weekend began my real healing journey.

Q. What did that healing journey uncover?

It uncovered layers I didn’t know existed.

I had to learn to forgive my five-year-old self who had been abused.

That opened old wounds I didn’t know were still running my life.

I realised I lived in constant internal chaos. I was hyper-critical. I struggled with bulimia. My mother’s anger had shaped me. My father’s alcoholism had shaped me. There were patterns of affairs in my family. Intergenerational trauma was everywhere.

I began to see how much I had been living as a victim.

I was always fighting, especially with my mouth. I was reactive. I created drama without even knowing I was doing it.

My parents begged me to stay in my marriage. They even said they would support my ex in court. That was deeply painful.

Looking back, I can see my father carried his own trauma. He lost his father young. His father was an alcoholic. The patterns were there.

But at the time, it was hard. It felt conditional. It felt judged.

I was living in a small cottage on their property with my daughter. I remember being told to fetch her late at night in winter because they weren’t responsible for her. Those moments cut deeply.

But through it all, I kept investing in my healing.

Q. How did you move from healing yourself to becoming a counsellor?

I enrolled in a counselling skills course while I was in the middle of my divorce.

It was fourteen weeks of release.

I became almost fixated on healing. I realised how depressed I had been for years.

The universe has a sense of humour.

My first clients were all survivors of sexual abuse.

They were mirrors.

Every session was teaching me something about myself too.

Q. You mentioned attracting clients who reflected your own journey. How did that shape you?

At the time, I didn’t consciously think, “I’m attracting those I can help most.”

I was still deeply in my own healing. I was still going to counselling myself.

What I came to realise is that while stories of sexual abuse are different for each person, there is a shared thread: shame.

No matter who I worked with, there was this common feeling of, “I should have known better.”

But I was five.

That’s when I began inner child work. I had to forgive my younger self. I didn’t even know that was a thing before.

Q. When did you first become aware of your intuitive or mediumistic abilities?

It happened gradually.

When I was around sixteen or seventeen, I lost my best friend. She died in hospice in Johannesburg. I remember watching a counsellor support her parents and thinking, “How is this woman surrounded by death and not devastated? How is she holding it together?”

Years later, when I was training as a counsellor, something happened that changed everything.

A client was sitting in front of me. I suddenly saw a little baby girl in her arms. I described her dress. I described her hair.

The woman looked at me and said, “How do you know this?”

She told me she had had a stillborn daughter.

I hadn’t known that.

I just saw her.

That was the first time I realised something was happening beyond normal observation.

Q. Looking back, had there been signs earlier in your life?

Yes.

As a child, I would blurt things out. My mother would say, “How do you know that?” and tell me to stop.

It wasn’t constant, but it happened enough that I learned to suppress it.

I also seemed to have a strange radar for affairs. I could sense when something wasn’t aligned between people. I didn’t always deliver that truth tactfully, especially when I was hurting.

But the awareness was always there.

After that first experience with the baby, more “drop-ins” started happening.

Q. What do you mean by “drop-ins”?

Spirit would drop in.

Sometimes it was pictures. Sometimes words. Sometimes just a strong knowing.

At night, I would sense presence. Sometimes I would physically get chills.

In South Africa, we used to say, “It feels like someone is walking over my grave.” That shiver.

I would get that sensation, and then a message would come.

People in supermarkets would start telling me their life stories. My husband would ask, “Why do you give everyone so much time?” I didn’t know. It just happened.

I realised I was deeply empathic.

I also came to understand that as a child I had imaginary friends. Later, I questioned whether they were imaginary at all.

But I still resisted labels.

I didn’t walk around announcing, “I’m psychic.” I assumed everyone could do this. I thought it was normal.

The messages came through pictures, sensations, sometimes words.

And over time, I began to trust it.

Q. You mentioned you could sense when something wasn’t aligned in others. Was that about seeing inauthenticity?

I never framed it as seeing inauthenticity because that can sound judgmental, and I certainly had judgment in me at the time.

But I did value truth.

In relationships I would say, “Just tell me honestly how you’re feeling.” And yet, as human beings, we’re fickle. We say we want truth, but when we hear it, we struggle with it.

Looking back, I didn’t realise how depressed I actually was. I played the part.

Dancing helped with that. You show up. You’re on stage. You perform.

But internally, I was carrying a lot.

Q. Was there a pivotal moment where you felt you had truly turned a corner?

There wasn’t one dramatic breakthrough. There were many smaller moments.

I started noticing lightness in my body. I started laughing more. I realised people felt lighter after speaking with me.

If life is a mirror, and others felt lighter, then I must have been starting to feel lighter too.

But life still brought intense highs and lows.

I had two serious bicycle accidents. The first one nearly killed me. I had severe concussion and lost three months of memory. In South Africa, you just get up and keep going.

My son was born, and two days later my mother-in-law died.

There were constant extremes.

I remember thinking, “When do I get a break?”

Q. What changed when you moved to New Zealand?

Moving to New Zealand over nine years ago was probably one of the biggest shifts.

For the first time, it was just me, my husband, and our children. No extended family. No familiar identity.

And I fell apart.

I felt alone in my marriage. We were financially struggling. I remember the first time we could afford a $40 McDonald’s meal four months after arriving. We took a photo and sent it home like it was a luxury restaurant.

People judge places like that. But to me, it symbolised hope.

After about six months, I had a moment.

I remember sitting there thinking, “No one knows me here. I can reinvent myself.”

That didn’t mean my past disappeared. I brought all of my history with me. But something shifted. I realised I could choose differently.

Q. Was that when you decided to become a medium professionally?

Not at all.

I was still in fear.

I went back into counselling first. That was my safety zone. Then I returned to bodywork, but it felt heavy. It wasn’t aligned anymore.

Then I started sitting alone more.

I began hearing different voices. I was shown, “It’s time.”

I didn’t understand what that meant.

I was guided to trust the messages coming through. So during bodywork sessions, I would ask clients, “Can I share what I’m sensing?”

Often, they wouldn’t come back. They had booked for massage, not messages!

There was still fear in me.

But I realised something: I was comfortable holding space while people cried. Deeply cried.

People would sit in front of me saying, “I’m not here to cry.” And yet they would.

Not because I made them cry, but because they were finally safe enough to feel.

Some people started avoiding me because they’d heard, “She makes you cry.”

But what was really happening was resonance.

I was feeling their energy. I was discerning what was mine and what wasn’t.

That became the deeper work.

Q. You spoke about crying being healing. Can you expand on that?

Crying has such a negative label.

We’re told, “Don’t cry.” As if crying is wrong.

But crying is release. It’s allowing.

For me, crying was part of healing. Nobody told me that at the time.

When my daughter was born in the UK, I had one friend. My ex-husband was doing his own thing. I sobbed alone a lot. No one said, “Mich, I think you might have postpartum depression.”

I didn’t even know that was a thing.

I would cry, wipe my face, pick myself up and keep going.

And what I’ve realised over time is that those of us who keep picking ourselves up develop enormous resilience. Incredible inner strength.

But sometimes that strength is exhausting.

Sometimes you just want someone to pick you up.

Sometimes you just want to be held and told, “It’s going to be okay.”

Q. When did you begin to step more fully into calling yourself a medium?

It was gradual.

My tears became less. My joy became more.

I started thinking, “What am I going to call myself?”

So I did another course, partly for confirmation.

Then I started saying, “Okay… I’m a medium.”

I never resonated with the word psychic as much. Medium felt aligned. It felt like I could help people shift, hold space, and receive messages at the same time.

But the real reset wasn’t the label.

It was helping my body feel safe.

The calmer I felt in my nervous system, the clearer everything became.

Sometimes that calm started with something as simple as watching a candle for five minutes.

Just breathing.

I didn’t even know I had PTSD until someone in New Zealand asked me.

In South Africa, you just get up and keep going.

You don’t analyse it. You don’t label it.

But when I finally allowed myself to feel held, when I stopped resisting the possibility that I was depressed, something softened.

And the gift expanded.

The more I released, the lighter I became.

The lighter I became, the more receptive I became.

Mich and Brent

Q. Do you think becoming lighter made you more open to receiving?

For me, yes.

The more you let out, the more space there is for light to come in.

But I also learned something important about discernment.

A clairvoyant once told me in front of a group, “Your aura is very dark.”

It was said bluntly, without compassion.

And it hurt.

Later she apologised, but that moment taught me something.

Truth needs compassion.

You can be truthful without being cutting.

That became important in how I work.

Release is healing, but so is discernment.

It’s not about crying endlessly. It’s about allowing, releasing, and then returning to presence.

Q. When did you realise there was something bigger calling you?

The calling was always there.

I just didn’t believe in myself enough to see it clearly.

But there were two defining moments.

One was in 2020.

A woman handed me the book Awesomism (By Suzy Miller) and said, “Mich, I think you’re going to be working with autistic children.”

That stayed with me.

My calling has always involved children. I’ve always been childlike. I had a music and movement business in South Africa. Music has always lived inside me.

When she gave me that book, something stirred.

I didn’t fully understand it at the time.

But it planted a seed.

Q. You mentioned 2020 being a pivotal year. What shifted for you then?

There’s always a bigger picture.

I don’t always know what it is, but I trust there’s one.

Forgiveness had already been a huge part of my journey. Forgiving my divorce. Forgiving my dad. Forgiving my abuser. Forgiving my mum. My brothers. Friends. Men. Myself.

Forgiveness was a thread running through everything.

In 2020, I went back to South Africa to place my mum into care. That was incredibly hard. My dad didn’t believe she had dementia. My brother didn’t either. My mum didn’t want to see me.

There was so much grief.

While she was in the home, there was a non-speaking woman who would come and stand in my mum’s doorway. She would just stare. My mum, confused and afraid, would shout at her to go away.

One day I walked up to her and took her hand.

We walked to the door together. I looked at her and, telepathically, I said:

“I see you. I know you’re in there. Now you need to let my hand go.”

She released my hand.

There were no words spoken aloud. But everything was communicated.

That moment stayed with me.

It felt like a doorway.

Q. You also mentioned reading Awesomism. Did that connect to this shift?

Yes.

Standing in customs in 2020, with the world in chaos, I was guided to pull the book out and hold it to my heart.

I read a few pages. I looked up. I read a few more.

It wasn’t about understanding it mentally.

It was about feeling it.

I was always taught that everything is vibration. Everything is feeling.

But 2020 made that real for me.

Something in me knew: this is happening for us, not to us.

Q. You’ve spoken openly about your own mental health. How did that shape your mediumship?

For a long time, I didn’t want to admit I was depressed.

In South Africa, you get up and keep going.

You don’t label things. You survive.

But when I finally allowed my body to feel safe, everything changed.

I realised how much trauma I had carried physically. Bronchitis. Heavy cycles. Constant illness. My daughter would get sick too.

Our energy fields were entwined.

When I began calming my nervous system, everything softened.

The clearer I became in myself, the clearer my connection became.

Q. What has been one of the most powerful mediumship sessions you’ve experienced?

There have been many.

One that stays with me was a healer who came to me because she was supporting a grieving mother. A teenager who had taken their own life kept coming through, urgently wanting to speak.

The young person spoke about confusion around identity, about feeling unable to express who they were.

Later that week, the mother also booked a session.

The messages aligned.

Those moments taught me that spirit doesn’t just “drop in” randomly.

There is intention.

There is orchestration.

And there is deep compassion.

Spirit trusts us with information that needs to be shared. And I say “us,” because this applies to you too.

Q. Do you feel your work brings closure?

Yes.

Especially for families navigating suicide.

And interestingly, spirit often comes through with humour. There’s lightness. There’s personality. There’s no sense of ongoing suffering.

One man came through describing exactly how he had left his body. The way he spoke about it was very much in his character, even humorous in tone. When I relayed it, the client said, “That’s exactly him.”

What I’ve learned is that once they’re no longer in physical form, they are not in pain in the way we imagine.

There is perspective.

There is understanding.

And often, there is humour.

Mitch and Star

Q. Let’s talk about the Council of Eight. How did that begin?

In a hypnosis session, I was shown they had been with me since incarnation.

That felt big.

But if I’m honest, I had always sensed voices or guidance long before I named it.

I just didn’t speak about it.

When I moved to New Zealand and had more time alone, things intensified. During sessions, my body would physically respond. I would shake. My nervous system felt like it was being rewired.

After two or three sessions, I would crash completely.

I had to learn pacing.

Symbolically, even my body needed rebalancing. As a ballerina, I had a certain posture. My knees eventually swelled, and I had to literally relearn how to stand, how to walk, how to ground.

The work was integrating energy into a physical body.

We are matter. We are in a body.

Bringing in expanded consciousness requires the body to feel safe.

Q. How did your channellings evolve from there?

Music was a key.

They began asking me to introduce music into sessions. Songs like “Shallow” would play repeatedly. At first I laughed. I thought, this is ridiculous.

But it was opening my throat.

It was helping me find my voice.

Toning and tuning began naturally. I started speaking in a different language. My hands would move in unfamiliar ways. I would become intensely cold during sessions, sometimes needing multiple layers and blankets.

It took years to regulate that.

A big lesson was learning not to push through. I had to give myself recovery time. Early on, I would work, then try to be mum and wife, then collapse in tears.

My husband would say, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

He was right.

The body must be included in spiritual expansion.

Q. How did you manage to overcome the exhaustion?

Sue Tobin.

She came for a mediumship reading after her sister passed. At one point I said, “I think I need to channel for you.”

She listened deeply. She trusted the messages. She walked what was given to her.

Watching her trust strengthened my own.

It showed me this wasn’t about performance. It was about partnership. Physical and non-physical. Seen and unseen.

The Council of Eight helped me find my voice.

But it was my job to integrate it.

To stay humble.

To stay grounded.

To remember I am still just a human being living a human experience.

“We’ve been led to believe we’re not capable, yet we’re all born with it.”

Q. What do you think people misunderstand most about channelling?

That they don’t have it.

We’ve been led to believe we’re not capable, yet we’re all born with it.

It can be as simple as a mother placing her hand on her child’s forehead when they’re sick. Or rubbing their stomach when they feel unsettled. That intuitive knowing, that sensing, that tuning in, that’s telepathic attunement.

But we’ve been taught to dismiss it.

Through certain institutions, through fear, through being told it’s not acceptable or not real.

It was demystified, sometimes even shamed.

And so people stopped trusting themselves.

Q. What stood out to you when you first began connecting with nonspeaking children?

Their individuality.

Every single one has a distinct personality. They are sharp, precise, and incredibly on point with the information they deliver.

It blows my mind every time.

They don’t communicate to diminish people. They lift people up. Even when they share something challenging, it’s delivered with purpose.

And their gifts, the depth of their perception, it’s extraordinary.

But over and above everything, what strikes me most is their humanity. Their humour. Their awareness.

They rise people.

Q. Do you feel you’re following your true calling now?

One hundred thousand percent.

As a little girl, people used to tell me I was a bright light. I didn’t understand it. I just loved laughing. I loved being playful.

Life dimmed that for a while.

But when I look back, I see the thread. I’ve always loved children. I’ve always noticed children with additional needs in a crowd. I was drawn to them.

It feels like I’ve gone full circle.

When I closed the Council of Eight portal, under their guidance, I was shown in Egypt: Are you ready to walk your spiritual journey?

At the time, I didn’t fully understand what that meant.

But I was told they would now come through the children.

The portal closed.

It’s time to walk with the children.

It feels like a baton being passed.

Q. This work carries a lot of energy. How do you care for your nervous system and emotional wellbeing?

By speaking openly.

I realised recently that people don’t always understand how much energy it takes to communicate at frequency level.

When I’m in session, I’m holding a lot. Afterward, I need recovery time. Sometimes two hours.

I used to push through.

Now I don’t.

After sessions, I’ll walk. Sit in the sun. Lie on my therapy table. Be in the ocean. Take magnesium. Move my body.

And most importantly, I speak up.

I don’t “protect” my energy in a fear-based way. I believe we’re interconnected. But I’ve learned that if I don’t regulate myself, I pay the price physically.

Being in service to self is not selfish.

It’s necessary.

If I’m depleted, I’m not serving anyone.

Q. When you zoom out from this whole journey, what makes you laugh?

How ridiculous we are as human beings.

How complex we are.

How much we overthink and over-assume.

When you zoom out, it’s almost funny. The more wacky and weird we are, the better.

Children are the perfect reminder of that. They don’t overcomplicate. They try something, it doesn’t work, they try again. Or they laugh and move on.

There’s purity in that.

When I watch Kody, or hear Aron’s determination and humour during our conversations, I’m reminded to stop taking life so seriously.

Sometimes the deepest wisdom is simply being a kid again.

Q. What gives you the most hope when you look at the next generation?

How many people are choosing themselves.

How many are deciding they are worthy of love. Worthy of healing. Worthy of showing up consciously.

I see it in you. I see it in families. I see it in the children.

Every person who heals a little changes the field for their family.

It’s that pebble in the lake again.

And when I look at my own children, I’m in awe. Not because of me, but because of who they are.

That ripple effect is real.

Kayd, Mich’s son

Q. What are your intentions for this year?

To see my dad one more time before he passes.

Beyond that, I don’t focus heavily on “accomplishments.”

If I can laugh every day, that’s an accomplishment.

If I can sleep well, that’s an accomplishment.

If I can show up peacefully, even while still navigating anxiety or PTSD, that’s an accomplishment.

Of course there are business plans unfolding. But life can change in a heartbeat.

So my intention is presence.

To ride the changes.

To trust.

Q. Is there anything your heart wants to leave us with?

Let’s focus on love.

Not the dramatic version we’ve been sold. Not the giddy fairy-tale version.

But the steady, grounded presence of love.

Compassion.

Humility.

Let’s stop being harsh with one another. There’s enough of that in the world.

We all know what it feels like to hurt. To grieve. To carry trauma.

If we can hold space for each other in those moments, that’s real change.

Sometimes when someone is angry or reactive, there’s something much deeper underneath.

If you can hold space for that, you are a gift.