It is a curious thing to hear a woman discuss the mechanics of the afterlife with the same flat, procedural tone one might use to explain a pivot table. Before Francie Soito was a bridge to the dead, she spent twenty years submerged in the binary rigor of market research and data analysis. She dealt in black and white, in the measurable and the certain. Now, her office is a room where the walls have become porous.
“I’m a facilitator,” she tells me. She doesn’t reach for the dramatic robes of the Victorian occultist. She speaks of mediumship as a translation job. If the dead are speaking, Soito is simply the one with the diplomatic headset on, relaying the message.
The origin story is one of suppressed thumping. Soito grew up in a house she describes as full poltergeist, a domestic theater of slamming doors and flickering lights. Her Catholic parents, perhaps as a matter of spiritual survival, enacted a policy of strict denial. Footsteps thundered down the hallway, and the family simply looked at their dinner plates. This silence did not extinguish the phenomena. It merely drove Soito’s awareness underground, where it sat dormant for two decades of corporate life.
It took the death of her mother to tilt the axis. The rigidity of high-tech data could not account for the vacuum left by grief. She turned to Reiki, and then, slowly, the clairs began to click into place.
In conversation, it becomes clear that mediumship is only one aspect of her experience. Her worldview stretches into places most people treat metaphorically. She tells me about what she calls the healing incubator, where souls undergo a process of recalibration. For those who exited life through the jagged door of trauma, such as alcoholism or suicide, divine beings help them to heal, rest, and defragment.
“Just because you die doesn’t mean you’re all of a sudden healed,” she explains. She describes these restorative spaces as spiritual clinics where angels help spirits put themselves back together, like repairing disparate parts of a Swiss cheese slice. In these instances, Soito often finds herself daisy-chaining communication. She speaks to a healthier ancestor who acts as a medium for the spirit still in recovery.
Yet, she is no love and light escapist. She is firm on the existence of the dark. False, she says of the spiritual claims that lower frequencies do not exist. She recalls a creepy encounter with a spirit who, in life, had been a child molester. He was not in an incubator. He was, in her words, still “reveling in the shit he did as a human.”
When she consulted her guides, the answer was simple: The Law of Free Will. Some souls choose not to evolve. Some even choose to de-evolve. It is a stark reminder that in Soito’s cosmos, the moral agency of the individual does not expire with the pulse.
There is a refreshing lack of theatricality in her description of the extraordinary. She speaks of Arthur Findlay College, the grand English estate often called “Hogwarts for Mediums,” where she studied and watched instructors paint portraits in a trance with both eyes closed. Her own process is more visceral. To build a link, she feels the phantom constriction of a heart attack or the heavy fog of a stroke. It is a brief, somatic handshake with the deceased.
This groundedness serves her well in her work as a psychic detective. Trained in Controlled Remote Viewing (CRV), she applies her analytical background to missing persons cases. In one instance, she narrowed a search across state lines to within a single mile of where a body was eventually found. She mentions this without fanfare, as if describing a commute she happened to navigate well.
When the conversation moves toward the ethics of the craft, Soito is careful to distinguish between the message and the messenger. She notes that mediumship must come from a place of service and love rather than ego and fear. In her view, the personality of the medium can often become a distorting factor. She observes that some practitioners allow their egos to take center stage, becoming aggressive or showing off rather than facilitating healing for the person sitting across from them.
For Soito, the clarity of a reading is inextricably linked to the medium’s own internal work. She believes that any internal conflict or unhealed trauma acts as a form of interference. This is why she emphasizes the importance of a clear practitioner. If you want the external world to be a reflection of peace, you must first address the conflict within yourself. In this way, the medium is less of a star and more of a pane of glass: the cleaner the glass, the more accurately the light shines through.
When the subject of famous psychics like Sylvia Browne is raised, Soito approaches the comparison with a clinical neutrality. To her, such figures serve as a point of reference for the unique filter every practitioner carries. The accuracy of the message depends entirely on the practitioner’s ability to step out of their own way.
Soito describes her current existence as 5D, a term that signifies a cellular change. It is the transition from a lifelong high school education into a sudden, unannounced master class. In this state, the mundane is haunted by the helpful. Her ancestors act as a celestial pit crew, offering advice on everything from yard work to navigating professional hurdles.
Her clients experience their own extensions of this multidimensional reality. She works with infants in utero, helping them adjust to the energies of birth when their mothers are anxious. She also works with children with ADHD or sensory overwhelm. Many of these children, she believes, are not troubled but simply too open. They are already 5D, she says, and they are absorbing everything. She teaches them how to create boundaries, not because their sensitivity is a problem, but because it is unfiltered.
Her animal clients reflect a similar pattern. Horses in particular respond with a level of energetic intelligence that still surprises her. She tells me about a pair of near-death cats whose bladders, which had been non-functional for days—released during remote Reiki sessions, an event that baffled their veterinarians. She explains the Rainbow Bridge work, which is mediumship for pets who have crossed over. Animals often greet their humans in the tunnel of light, she says, crowding toward the front like joyful relatives racing to meet someone at the airport.
Perhaps the most iconic detail of her practice is the ritual of the memory wipe. After each mediumship session, Soito performs a clearing to consciously break the tie with the sitter. She describes a light mental clearing performed by her guides, ensuring she does not retain the heavy energies or traumatic imprints of the spirits she encounters. It is a necessary boundary, an energetic rinsing that allows her to be fully present for the next person in need.
As our conversation ends, a monarch butterfly drifts past the window. She notes it with a smile, as if acknowledging a message or perhaps a messenger. She knows who she is, why she is here, and that at least part of her purpose is to help people, in her words, “become more whole with a W, not an H.”
For more info on Francie Soito and her offerings, please visit FrancieSoito.com or follow her on Instagram @franciesoito.
