I did a reading for a friend of mine, Sara, who was understandably skeptical. That’s OK. I’m cool with healthy skepticism, so long as it comes with an open mind.
Sara wanted me to read for her boyfriend’s dog, who had passed on. She wasn’t sure if I could get a read on the dog, since it wasn’t her dog, and she had never met him. I asked why she wanted to do the reading, and she said, “To get to know my boyfriend better.”
I said it’d really be better if her boyfriend came in too, so that the dog understood he had permission to talk about him. That was a pretty cut-n-dried ethical call, I think.
So instead, for fun, we decided to do a past life reading for Sara.
I prefer to work with a person’s spirit guide or a loved one on the other side, so this person can give me messages relevant to my client. I haven’t yet figured out how to read someone’s acashic records for myself (Sylvia Browne uses this term to describe a person’s life plan and records) and honestly, I think it would be too much information to sift through. I think it’s better for me to consult someone on the other side who has the client’s best interests at heart.
I asked Sara, “Is there someone on the other side, or a spirit guide who could help us?”
Before she finished saying “My grandfather,” he was there. He was wearing a red shirt and making small things out of wood. I described him and asked if that’s what her grandfather looked like – Sara shouted “YES!” and burst into tears.
At the time, I thought I was seeing the “tears of truth” – it’s completely normal to suddenly feel like crying during a psychic reading – it’s our bodies and emotions giving us confirmation that the connection is real.
A few days later I was talking to Ellie, with whom Sara had discussed her reading after the fact. Ellie gently suggested to me that it would be better to give people a chance to adjust to the idea of talking with a deceased loved one before putting them in touch.
See, Sara and her grandfather were so close, and she’d never completely processed his death. Some people look at death differently than I and my family has – death is an end, a finality, the Big Goodbye. It was utterly wrenching for Sara to talk to her grandfather without having had even thirty seconds to adjust to the idea of the possibility – and to suddenly be confronted with such indisputable proof that I had *indeed* contacted him. How else would I know about his favourite red shirt and his favourite hobby?
In my family, and my mother in particular taught me this, we have always believed in reincarnation. My mother talks about our Great Aunt Ruth who watches over all of us from heaven. I haven’t experienced the complete gut-wrenching grief when a family member has passed on, and I’ve been incredibly blessed to not (yet) have to endure the passing of someone I’m *really* close to. I have to remember to be careful and sensitive around this issue, approach it carefully.
I did endure the sudden and tragic deaths of several friends when I was a teenager – there was a horrible rash of suicides at this time. I went through a dark period of depression and felt suicidal myself, but again my mother saved me – she got me to a great therapist STAT.
And then, there was the shocking passing of Ben. I’ll tell you, I was so happy to get back in touch with him this month.
Since moving away from our home province, Sweetie and I have made many new friends. We love them dearly. It’s just that there’s something about hanging out with people from your home town, people you’ve known since you were 15, people who know your history, your thought processes – it’s just so grounding. We miss our home town friends, and the idea of being able to talk with Ben whenever we wanted was utterly gratifying.
But in the past two weeks, Ben’s grandmother, who is also on the other side, got in touch with me. She explained that Ben has been procrastinating, that he died accidentally and needs to reincarnate in order to move forward with his life plan. But Ben, horrified of the pain he caused his family with his premature death, scared of the possibility of doing it *again*, refused to move on.
It became clear over the next few days that Ben was not really *working* like most spirits on the other side, who have completed their life plans and have taken on new tasks such as protecting loved ones who are still incarnated, or whispering inspiring ideas into the ears of our scientists. Ben was sort of stagnant. He asserted he was inspiring rebel graffiti artists, and showed me an incredible creation on the side of a water tower. But this is not what he was supposed to be doing, and he knew it.
I asked Ben if he would consider crossing over completely and reincarnating on Christmas night, Dec 25th, the ghost party we’d invited him to. Ben’s grandmother informed me that there is a new baby boy coming into his same family, and that he had the opportunity to reincarnate as his mother’s grandchild. He said he’d think about it.
Christmas night rolled around, and all the spirits we’d invited showed up. We watched the Simpsons, the Sound of Music, enjoyed coffee with Bailey’s, fireball whiskey and Yagermeister. I narrated the thoughts that popped into my head as the conversation slowly meandered around various topics, until we finally landed upon Ben.
“What would it take, Ben, for you to feel okay and safe about reincarnating? How many angels? Do you need an additional spirit guide?”
Ben expressed again his fears of repeating history, dying too early again and inflicting so much grief on his loved ones. He shared with me his mother’s extreme grief. He showed me his own grief and paralyzing anxiety.
It was an hour or so of working through all this with Ben. The emotions were so overwhelming I cried myself most of the time – not racking sobs, but a slow, continual leeking of tears from my eyes, and the need to control my breathing and direct the emotion out my feet in order to stay focused.
Eventually, the other spirit guests in the room, Ben’s guide and Ben’s own grandmother convinced him he was protected. Accidental deaths rarely happen twice in a row, and Ben would return to his family as a new baby, but fortified by an additional spirit guide and a small army of angels. This little boy will be so well protected.
And then he left.
And then I really started to cry. Because then it hit me – I will never talk to Ben again. Damn, even as I type this I’m tearing up again. This is what it’s like to say the Big Goodbye. And while I know I’ll see Ben again in heaven, it won’t be the boy from my hometown.
I am so happy to see him go, and so sad to feel him gone.
So this is an experience to bring forward, to help me be compassionate and aware of my client’s feelings before reintroducing them to a loved one on the other side. Some people have already said the Big Goodbye to their loved ones. And now, I can begin to imagine what that is like.