How Psychics Have Fun (Part 3)

Last weekend, I had the privilege of hosting Mark Macy (www.spiritfaces.com) and his Luminator (more on that machine later), for a couple of parties, where he described his research into instrumental transcommunication (www.worlditc.org), i.e. using electronic equipment to talk with the 'dead'. The reason I say 'dead' in quotations is that once you've seen his research, you can never again believe that the spirit that leaves a dead body actually dies. His evidence includes computer passages, typed from a computer which was turned on without anyone physically in the room, and which included information only known to the 'dead' woman and her still living husband, and a message left on Mark's own telephone answering machine from a colleague who was 'dead'.

While Mark's presentation is clear and convincing, the best examples of transcommunication he shows are the ones provided by the audience itself. With the Luminator running, he takes Polaroid photos of audience volunteers, and many of the photos have faces completely different from the physical ones of the photo subjects. (I've included 3 of my photos -- one of me (as me, not the best photo, oh, well), one of me that is clearly not me (as there maybe two faces, and at least the nose and mouth aren't mine), and one of my paternal grandmother, who might be the face in the second photo (or maybe not). The only alteration to the polaroid camera is that black tape is place over the light sensor so that the flash doesn't go off, because the spirit faces need a low light situation to be seen on film.

Even more fun for me was getting to hang out with the Luminator. This machine seems to change the electromagnetic field in an area at least a hundred or so feet in diameter. Another clairvoyant who was there described it as changing the energy of the space in my home to that of the borderline between the worlds ('here' and 'hereafter'). At first, I was really taken aback by its power -- it felt like my body was on some kind of speed, or having an adrenaline rush, though my mind was completely normal. As I got used to it, though, something amazing happened. I was 'shown' what happens when you 'die'. I did not have the experience of the tunnel that most near-death experiencers describe (not that I was near death in any way), but doors opened from my heart and I came out on a beautiful landscape, which I was told was different for each person. After a few moments of enjoying that, I was showered with a beautiful green light that permeated me, and then a beautiful yellow or golden light that did the same. After a while, that faded away, and I was back in the beautiful landscape, but this time, there were thousands of 'people' there. (I think this is the welcoming party that everyone talks about.) I was at a distance, hovering in the sky, looking at the assembled group, but I noticed that if I asked for someone, they'd sort of come to the front of the group, or perhaps I zoomed in to them. I was given to understand that in a way, this 'party' is somewhat holographic, as if each soul sent a hologram of a part of itself that I would recognize, not necessarily that the whole soul was there.

A while later, a reproducible way to talk to 'dead' people occurred to me. All I need to do is go back into my heart, open the doors out onto the landscape, be cleansed by light, come out at the party -- and then ask for a particular 'person'. So I tried it with my husband's father, who 'died' when he was 15. I learned some things about him that my husband could verify, which believe me, I didn't know, and others that made sense to him, though he could not actually verify them.

The next day, I happened to be teaching my day-long 'Psychic Skills Workshop', and offered a guided meditation of the process to the participants as a bonus session after class. Everyone stayed, and everyone got to their landscape, and everyone found a person -- not always the person they had thought to contact, but someone they knew! Because it was the first time I had ever done the meditation, I didn't leave enough time for people to have satisfying conversations with those they contacted. Oh, well, that's how you learn.

Boo Hoo

I felt awful because I'd missed Charlotte's leaving of her body, as if, had I been there, I would have done enough for her, or been complete with her somehow. I desperately wanted to apologize.

I'm not a reliable medium under the best of circumstances -- sometimes 'dead' folks come through very clearly, and sometimes not at all. And this was definitely not the best of circumstances. What to do on a Sunday night? I called my friend, Kat, with whom I trade readings and NLP work regularly, and asked, "How are you as a medium?"

"Pretty good right now," she replied.

So we got into it. And actually, she had had one phone conversation with Charlotte, several months back, when Charlotte wanted a reference on a healer with whom Kat had trained. So perhaps that made it easier.

I knew she 'had' Charlotte, because when I asked Charlotte (through Kat) if she'd seen Boo (Charlotte's cat, whom I loved, who'd crossed over about 6 months before Charlotte, eaten by a coyote -- and that never happens in Mill Valley), she replied in a very flat tone, "Boohoo". This was the title of an email Charlotte had sent me announcing Boo's crossing, which I'd thought was wonderfully funny, even as I missed Boo. And it was something I'd remarked to Charlotte about more than once.

So I apologized to Charlotte for not being there when she left her body -- and she told me she hadn't wanted me to be there! At which point I realized a few things:

** Grief over someone's death has a few separate components:

1. Missing the person, which is partly your own habit body, and partly cords dissolving
   
• Your habit body likes things to stay the same. Maybe this is your neurology, which can't handle paying attention to too many things at the same time, or perhaps its the etheric body. It's the part of you that likes to know if you call a certain phone number, you'll hear a certain voice.
  
• We all have energetic cords between our chakras, and the chakras of those we are close to. These cords dissolve when a relationship ends (e.g. a romantic relationship) or when someone dies. That's not fun, because we still have the ends of the cords to deal with, like an umbilical cord which is cut but not tied or clamped off -- the ends are just left raw and open.
  
2. Feeling badly that you hadn't done right by the person. But you really can't judge what was "doing right by" someone else, at least not on this plane, because you can't know what his or her soul actually wanted. All you can do is live the best you can up to your own standards, and give yourself the benefit of the doubt, when you do something uncharacteristically forgetful, or even nasty, to someone else -- perhaps you were doing something his or her soul needed you to do.

Charlotte was apparently showing Kat some other plane of existence. Charlotte kept saying it was "so vast" and beautiful beyond description, and that it was cold, that she was cold. It was "not like there (on earth)" and Kat had the impression that Charlotte was fine, but a little lost. So I asked Charlotte, through Kat, what I could do to help, feeling sheepish at the offer, because I didn't think there was anything I could do. But Charlotte said, "send angels -- angels can help."

"Let me see what I can do", I answered, and then silently asked all the folks (some would call them archangels, but I'm not personally clear on their titles) who assist me in readings to help Charlotte. Almost instantly, Charlotte said, "I'm warm" and Kat said she could literally feel her own body get warmer. For me, this was verification that the folks do indeed hear me, and do respond. Way cool! (Or I suppose that Charlotte 'heard' my intention from whatever plane she was in.) But somehow, I did do something. That felt pretty amazing, and Charlotte told me that she wanted me to know how powerful I am, even on one of my worst days.

Thank you, Charlotte, for your kindness and our concern, even after you've left Earth. I'm glad you made a compassionate choice for yourself, and wish you well on your way. Come see me when I cross over (hopefully a long time from now.) And than you, Kat, for you assistance.

So this angel walks into a bar...

Sometimes my life feels like a bad movie -- so trite that you almost can't script it.

Scene 1: Clearing the Clutter

Yesterday, I had a great day, working on cleaning out more clutter from the house and the garage, culminating in a trip with a very full car to Goodwill in mid afternoon. I was supposed to be working on my audio equipment, getting it to work reliably, but that seemed really hard, and I was having fun (!) moving things into the car, and reorganizing the garage, so I kept putting it off. Finally I had a carful, went to Goodwill and dropped it off.

Scene 2: Phone Call

On my return, guilt led me to my desk, where I happened to notice the message light blinking on my phone.

There was a message from a friend, several hours old, saying that a mutual good friend, whom I'll call Charlotte, was in the hospital on her death bed.

Flashback:

Charlotte was the soul of compassion, and the essence of grace, a beautiful spirit in a beautiful body. Though she had not lived a particularly easy life, a single mother who worked really hard at a variety of businesses (from running an in-home day care so she could be there for her toddler, to a jewelry store, to a small therapy practice) and jobs (HR and office support) to support and raise her wonderful (now grown) daughter, she left everything she touched more beautiful and more peaceful. She always knew exactly what to say to ease suffering, always had a smile, a gentle laugh and a positive, philosophical attitude for the more difficult parts of life -- the broken hearts, the illnesses, the financial hardships, including her own. At points when I was low, I always knew I could call her, and I'm sure her other friends knew that, too.

I knew Charlotte was sick, had, in fact, been increasingly sick over the last 10 years. But I'd seen her a few weeks ago, and she'd been in good spirits, saying she was getting better after a real scare.

Scene 2, continued

Though I returned the call immediately, it was too late. Charlotte had already left her body. Had I heard the phone ring, I would have barely had time enough to get to the hospital (an hour away) to say a brief goodbye.

Apparently she had left her body peacefully, attended by a Tibetan Buddhist lama and several good friends. And I know, given the state of her physical body, that it was a good choice to leave now, and gift of compassion to herself. Charlotte, who was always so giving to others, had finally given herself the gift of freedom.

I could only have a short conversation with Ann, the woman who'd called me, because she was too teary. Ann is a very strong woman, and I could hear her trying to stay strong and practical -- but she couldn't. The pain was too fresh. We settled on me calling the next day to get Charlotte's daughter's phone number to see how I can help.

Scene 3: Conversation in the kitchen

So I came upstairs into the kitchen, where my husband was seated at the kitchen table, reading email on his laptop. As I entered, he said cheerily, "Hey, I've got something to show you," to which I replied, "Charlotte died." I caught him up on the news, and then he said, "What I was just about to show you is kind of the opposite of that." There were photos of his cousin's brand new baby girl!

So that's when it hit me... life on earth is kind of like this big saloon. You enter through the swinging doors (take a body), have a drink, some food, hook up, break up, maybe play a game of poker, or pour a beer for someone else, watch the dramas unfolding around you, and leave again through those same swinging doors. Life is not about the tables and the chairs in the bar (clearing the clutter), it's about the angels who come and go.