Maria Jones Intuitive Medium

Lately, I’ve had many people reach out feeling unsettled,
struggling to sleep, worried about war, and what it could mean for our country and the people they love.

There is a lot of noise right now.
A lot of fear.

But one thing I do know is this.

We will get through whatever comes.

Human beings are far more resilient than we give ourselves credit for.

History has shown us this again and again.

And often, in the hardest times, something unexpected happens.

People come together.

They look after one another.
They share.
They simplify.
They remember what truly matters.

Perhaps this is also a time to reflect on how we live.

To pull back where we can.
To spend with awareness.
To return to what is necessary, rather than what is excessive.

We don’t need as much as we’ve been led to believe.

What we do need, is each other.

Because when we get caught in division right versus left, fear versus fear, we lose sight of something important.

Our humanity.

And that is where our strength actually lives.

There are many things in this world we cannot control.

But we can choose how we show up within it.

We can choose to stay grounded.
To breathe.
To be present.

To step away from the constant noise and information that unsettles us.

And most importantly.

To be kind.
To care for one another.
To remain connected.

Because even in uncertain time,
that is what carries us through.

And no matter how things may appear

Light has a way of finding its way through.

Easter reminds us that even after the darkest moments, something beautiful can rise again.

A quiet honouring of renewal, of life, and the deeper journey of the soul.

And most importantly, I hope you are able to enjoy the family who are here, and gently honour those who are not.

For those who are struggling, I’m sending you love 🤍

The grief of losing a loved one can be one of the most painful experiences a person will ever feel.

It can hit in ways you never imagined.
It can feel like something inside you is being torn apart.

It comes in waves… and then more waves.

Concentration can feel fragmented.
Time feels different.
The places they once sat, ate, or simply existed can feel almost unbearable in their absence.

Even stillness can feel like a distant memory.

It’s an experience I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

But there is something I’ve come to know.

They may have left their vessel… but they don’t leave you.

They visit in the quiet moments.
In the subtle signs.
And sometimes in the most beautiful way… through dreams.

The doorway to feeling them, to sensing that connection, often comes through stillness and presence.

Because in that space, something shifts.

There can be a softness.
A sense of comfort.
Even a moment of peace.

And for those supporting someone who is grieving…

Please lead with kindness.
With patience.
With presence.

There is no right way to grieve.
And there is no timeline for healing.

Something interesting happens when we try to step away from it all.

When you put the phone down…
turn off the noise…
and sit in the quiet.

At first, it doesn’t feel peaceful.

It can feel uncomfortable.
Restless.
Even a little unsettling.

The mind starts searching for something to fill the space.
Something to do.
Something to distract.

And that’s the part many people don’t expect.

We’ve become so used to constant stimulation that stillness can feel unfamiliar… even difficult.

But that discomfort isn’t a problem.

It’s a sign.

A sign that your mind is beginning to slow down.
That your attention is no longer being pulled in every direction.

And just beyond that discomfort… something shifts.

The noise begins to settle.
The thoughts become clearer.
The body starts to relax.

And underneath it all… something deeper is still there.

Waiting.

Your awareness.
Your clarity.
Your intuition.

It was never gone.

It’s just been waiting for you to come back to it.

Sometimes the way back to yourself begins with sitting in the quiet… just a little longer than feels comfortable.

I’m incredibly grateful I grew up in a time before all of this.

If someone called the house and my mum answered, there was a good chance she’d forget to tell me. So they’d just call back the next day… or the day after.

There was no urgency.
No expectation to always be available.

People would just pop around without asking.
If you were home, you’d sit together, talk, laugh… and that was enough.

Dating felt easier too.
More natural.
You met people by talking to them… not through a screen.

Kids played outside for hours.

If someone got hurt, people stopped.
They helped.

Life wasn’t perfect, but there was a natural connection in the way we lived.

Now everything feels faster.
More urgent.
More demanding of our attention.

And something else has quietly crept in.

Endless scrolling.
Constant stimulation.
Content that rarely adds real value… just something to fill the space.

At times, I find myself questioning how much real value this has truly added to our day-to-day experience… compared to what it may have quietly taken away.

There’s even a term being used now “brain rot”, describing what happens when the mind is overloaded and overstimulated for long periods of time.

And the impact of that is deeper than we realise.

It creates an internal fragmentation.
A kind of disconnect within ourselves.

Where our thoughts are scattered…
our attention is divided…
and our inner navigation becomes less clear.

And when that happens, our ability to feel and trust our intuition becomes more fragmented too.

And somewhere in all of that… something important feels like it’s been lost.

Not completely gone.

But quieter.

Over the years people have asked me,
“Maria, do you think the zombie apocalypse will ever happen?”

From what I can see… in many ways it already has.

People walking through life looking down instead of up.
Filming instead of helping.
Texting instead of talking.
Sitting together while being somewhere else entirely.

The constant distraction quietly pulls us away from something sacred ‘presence’.

And presence is where intuition lives.

So much of what we interact with today is designed to keep us constantly engaged, but in doing so, it can fragment our attention and disconnect us from our deeper self.

The most dangerous addiction of our time isn’t drugs, it’s distraction.

But there is a solution.

Put the phone down.

Look up.

The world hasn’t lost its magic, we’ve just been looking down.

I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on how much life has changed in the last few decades.

Before smartphones… before constant notifications… before everyone carried a screen in their pocket.

There was something different about the way we connected.

People knocked on doors instead of texting.
Conversations lasted longer.
And many of our favourite memories happened when we were simply present with each other.

I’m curious about something.

What’s one thing you remember from life before devices that you miss today?

I’d genuinely love to hear your stories.

Never underestimate what you mean to the people who truly matter in your life.
Never underestimate how deeply you are valued by them.

So often we question ourselves, wondering if we are enough, if what we offer is seen, or if we really make a difference.

But the truth is this: the very things that make you ‘you’, your presence, your kindness, your way of caring, are often the exact things the people who love you treasure most.

You matter more than you realise.
Your presence has value.
Your energy leaves an imprint.

And sometimes the people who love us see our worth far more clearly than we see it ourselves.

Not all actions are created equal.

The same words can heal, or harm, depending on the intention behind them.
The same behaviour can uplift someone… or quietly try to bring them down.

We have far more power than we realise in how we move through the world.

Sadly, many of the dysfunctions we’ve been exposed to are now playing out in alarming volumes. In Australia, tall poppy syndrome is one example, cutting others down so no one rises too high. But when did diminishing someone else become a measure of our own worth?

Before reacting, before criticising, before speaking, pause.

Ask yourself:
Is this coming from insecurity? Comparison? Ego?
Or is it coming from clarity, care, and truth?

We can be the reason someone feels encouraged.
Or the reason they shrink.

Choose wisely.

In a world that feels fractured, distracted, and disconnected, love is the one thing every soul is truly seeking, whether we admit it or not.

Not just romantic love.
But the love within family.
The love between friends.
And the sacred connection we hold with ourselves.

When love is real and present, it heals.
It acts like a superconductor to the spirit world.
It deepens our connection to God, the Great Spirit, or whatever name you give that higher source.

Love isn’t weakness.
It isn’t naïve.
It’s power.

And when we align with it, truly align, everything shifts.

As promised, here’s the next one, since many of you have been asking when it’s coming

Discover open and honest methods to harness your intuition and deepen your connection with your inner wisdom. Learn how to communicate more effectively with your spirit guides and amplify your intuitive abilities.
This workshop will be held over two consecutive Saturdays:
Part 1: March 21st 11:15 AM - 4:45 PM
Part 2: March 28th, 11:15 AM - 4:45 PM
To sign up, please visit the Spirit Guides Workshop page.

http://www.wea-sa.com.au/46033

If the link doesn’t work, please visit the website directly for more details.

https://www.wea-sa.com.au

In the end, we reflect not just on what we did, but on the intention behind our actions.
How could I have been more in service? More selfless? Loved more wholly?
What impact did my energy leave on those I cared for most?

This life is fleeting. But love, presence, and the imprint of our kindness, that’s what endures..

The moment we leave the vessel that carries the soul, we take nothing with us. Everything here is borrowed: the house, the titles, the clothes.

What truly matters is how deeply we loved, how kindly we treated others, and whether we made the people who mattered most feel seen, heard, and safe.

The biggest regret I hear from the other side is not about money, success, or achievements. It’s almost always this:

I wish I had been kinder. I wish I had loved better.