The Robin Williams thing


robin williams


On the Happiness entry, Phoggy posted a link to a youtube video she enjoyed of a channeling of Robin Williams.   I haven’t listened to it yet, and I’m going to wait quite a while, which I prefer to do after someone (anyone!) dies.

I do this for a few reasons.


  1. I prefer not to be the target of accusations that I’m capitalizing on someone’s death.  And honestly, I’d have to look closely at my personal motivations if my first impulse was to try to get someone famous who had *just* died.


  1. I want to create a great circle of respect for the family and friends. Every time someone famous dies, there’s a big flurry of psychics posting channelings.  Some of them are bound to be fake, and how crappy would it be as a surviving family member to see frauds promoting themselves on the coffin of your family or friend?


  1. I prefer not to duplicate the work of others. I would rather wait a year and shine a new light on the ideas surrounding a person after their death.  You can see things better if you let the dust settle.


  1. Although there is no limit to the number of people a spirit can potentially speak with at one time, the weeks and months following their death are extremely busy times for spirit beings. Everyone is knocking on that door.  A medium is more likely to tap into what other mediums have channeled previously during this high-traffic time.  It’s almost easier to channel the channelings, or play the recorded message, than to get through all the chaotic thoughts surrounding this being and get to the actual heart of things.  It’s like picking up on a re-run than finding a new episode.

Besides, I’m sure he’s having a beer with George Carlin and other greats, and I’d hate to interrupt!

So I won’t go ask for Robin Williams any time soon, although I’d like to in a few years.  I actually saw him perform live in a small club on Church St. in Toronto, where he popped in to work out his new material.  It was *incredibly* raunchy.  It was awesome for me, but it sucked for my friend (who was performing) because he had to *follow ROBIN WILLIAMS*!   Poor guy, everyone was on a Robin high and no one would listen to his act!

So instead of Robin, I’ll go back to my list of folks who passed a year or two ago and see who’d like to chat.



Kurt Cobain Friday: Angel Training, Art and Spiritual Journeys

In an effort to “roll out the crazy” gradually, I’ll sometimes hold back ideas until they start to make sense in a larger context.  One of these ideas is Angel Training.

During one of the first readings I did for Sweetie, she asked, “What is the point of this?  Why am I here, living this life?”

The answer fell out of my mouth immediately:  “It’s part of your angel training.”

I’d run into the idea of angel training once before, when I looked into the deaths of two paramedics in our community who died together in an accident.  Those two were in angel training together, and they still are helping the hospital.  They’re usually riding along in the ambulances, comforting the injured, assisting in elevating them above their painful injuries, providing calm and clarity of mind to the newbie paramedics who took their place.  They assist in crossing over those whose bodies die before they can reach the hospital, and they occasionally prod awake a fatigued highway driver.

According to her guides, Sweetie was a very reluctant participant in this incarnation.  She had a long list of demands prior to even considering incarnation, which included the constant company of white cats.  She ultimately consented to this incarnation after her teacher, “Brian,” gently pointed out that if she truly desired to progress any further in her angel training, she really needed one more incarnation on earth.

So Sweetie is definitely on her last incarnation on earth.  Even now, she holds herself above and apart from the world.  She gets frustrated and angry quickly when topics like pollution arise, and she’s observing a broad judgmental side of herself that tends to simply condemn this whole planet’s fate.

It’s fucked, basically, so why would anything she could say, do or create make the slightest difference?

This has been her spiritual struggle, yet slowly, painfully, she’s progressing through it.  The lessons from John, over the years, have been helping both of us (some are chronicled in the John Lennon Friday entries) and now Kurt has come forward to continue the discussion.

Here’s an email I received from Sweetie talking about a recent conversation with Kurt:

Hey Love,

Here’s a synopsis of the ideas I was talking about this morning.  Plus a couple of other things I was thinking about:

1)  Kurt’s been working on breaking down some of my cynicism.  Sometimes he talks to me, sometimes he plays his songs in my head, sometimes he drops whole ideas on me.  He may also be priming my mind while I’m sleeping to better receive these ideas while I’m awake.  Some of the conversations I’ve had with him lately:

a)  I was in the car listening to Pennyroyal Tea.  I wondered if emotional turmoil is a necessary part of angel training.
He said, “No.  Not necessarily.  I mean there are things you want to try to learn while you’re here but it’s only as easy or as hard as you need it to be.  You define your own experience”
Later “Lounge Act” came on, and these lines jumped out at me:

Don’t – tell me what I wanna hear
Afraid of never knowing fear
Experience anything you need
I’ll keep fighting jealousy
’til it’s fucking gone

Which is exactly the same point, just stated another way.  So, he understood this while he was alive.  I think he was more spiritual than most people realize.

b)  I’m pretty sure he has wings now.  Although he doesn’t usually show up in that guise.  Is he done angel training?  I swear he gave me a hug the other day and actually folded a wing around me.

(My answer to Sweetie:  The first time I saw Kurt, I’m pretty sure he had wings, and he definitely ascended from “very high up” which is a sensation familiar to me when talking with “known” angels, such as the one who watches over my mother.  Some psychics say that angels have the ability to appear as incarnated humans at times when needed; maybe, at first, we were seeing Kurt as he was in his most recent life, because that’s how we were able to best connect and relate to him.

Now we’re able to open ourselves up to other ideas of who Kurt has become since he left his last incarnation.  It’s similar to talking to John as John Lennon for a most of our conversations, even though we’re aware that he is not literally the person known as John Lennon, but the spirit who experienced the life of John Lennon, among other incarnations and other lessons on the other side.  Back to Sweetie’s email:)

He told me my back sometimes aches where my wings should be.  He told me that I shouldn’t sleep in my bra because my scapulae need a chance to spread out.

He’s taken to calling me “angel” lately, where before he was calling me “baby”.  Occasionally “bitch”, but only if he was feeling jokey.

c)  With regard to the things we were talking about this morning, he’s really been appealing to a spirit of rebellion and nonconformity in an effort to get me to look at the world differently.  Really trying to impress upon me that it is not necessary to go along with what everyone else is doing, not necessary to accept their version of The Way Things Are, and that I basically don’t need to go along with their bullshit.  Not only do I not need to participate in bringing about their vision of the world, but I don’t actually have to live in it, either.  I don’t have to suffer the effects of their actions.

Just think of politics as one big fucking pep assembly that you’re better off skipping. 

Think of World History as a class that you might as well drop out of, because at worst it’s a bunch of lies, and at best it’s one person’s version of the truth.

He dropped the idea of divergent realities on me as I was going to bed after watching the Bigfoot documentaries, after John told us the Neanderthals were still here.  It just suddenly all made sense.  The Neanderthals split off, the Atlanteans split off — that’s why we can’t find a trace of them.  Everything that goes along with their cultures exists on their vibration level, as well.  They probably don’t experience our culture either.

So, if that’s true, then we can probably split off as well, and choose not to experience the effects of the military-industrial complex and it’s agendas.

But it sounds totally crazy, right?  Isn’t that just denial, refusing to see the world as it actually is?

(I think we’re on to something here.  It’s common for ghosts, earthbound spirits who refuse to move on after their last incarnation, to see the world around them as it was when they were alive.  They would see the old ranch where now stands a Toys R Us.)

He described reality to me as being really fragmented, not this cohesive thing that we tend to perceive it to be when we’re incarnated.  It’s actually a fractal, it’s the whole and its parts, like the urchin consciousness.

(Recently, we had the opportunity to observe, communicate with and then eat a live sea urchin.  Urchins have been a food staple in our region for hundreds of years.  It was amazing talking with this creature, which could best be described as a collective consciousness like the Borg from Star Trek.  In the picture of the urchin, see how each spine waves individually?  Each spine is an awareness.  As the fisherman broke apart the living collective to access the roe, the edible part of the urchin, I was braced for the urchin to feel pain.

But it didn’t happen.  All that happened was the collective consciousness separated into its parts – now there were half a dozen singular collectives where once there was one.  The message came “Put us back!” and the image of returning some of the pieces to the water formed in my mind.  I understood that this would seed future whole urchins.  I also understood that when many hundreds of sea urchins are together, they form a singular collective consciousness too, almost like one huge animal.  The moment a single urchin is removed by a human, otter, crab etc for food, this portion of the collective is simply unplugged from the larger one, and simply becomes it’s own consciousness.  It was so fascinating and instructive, talking to urchins.  It makes you wonder about the sheer nature of consciousness. Back to Sweetie’s email:)

We each have our own tiny realities, and there are larger shared realities.  And there is a lot of crossover but it’s not exactly one immutable thing.  He showed me a string of translucent beads, three in a row.  And then showed them to me end ways so they overlapped.  That’s the world, in essence.  It looks like one thing, but that’s where divergence can happen.

I’ve had Stay Away in my head often, lately.  Or part of it:

Monkey see, monkey do
(I don’t know why)
Rather be dead than cool
(I don’t know why)

It’s serving as a good reminder that other people’s bullshit is other people’s bullshit.

d)  He’s been talking to me about art, understanding that part of the problem I’m having is in seeing art as an act of altruism in a world that does not wish to save itself.  He said it’s okay, that I don’t need to fix that.  I don’t need to be a perfect spiritual being, I don’t need to love everyone in the world and want to help them.  I don’t need to want good things for everyone in the world, including Mike, Monsanto, and the Bush family.  I don’t have to be altruistic.  I don’t even need to be happy — although he’d *like* it if I were happy — it isn’t necessary.  The only thing that matters is that I know how special I am, that I matter, and that any art that I might choose to make is okay.

So, I thanked him for that.

2)  Yesterday, someone convinced me to read Oscar Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Gray”.  (It’s a story about a man and his vanity — he becomes obsessed with his own portrait, in which his image is mysteriously aging).  I’m not really sure who thought I should read it.  But anyway.

It begins with a 4 page essay of Wilde’s, in which he describes the role of the artist in our society.

Wilde says that art is a mirror: it’s completely objective and can only be judged on the basis of its form rather than its content.  Essentially it’s the viewer that is the spectacle; people who dislike “realism” art can’t stand to see themselves reflected back, people who dislike “romanticism” art are vain, and aren’t interested unless they’re seeing themselves reflected.  It actually reminds me of Yoko’s work, now that I think about it.  Perhaps it was John who thought I should read it.

But I’m only in partial agreement.  I was like, “Okay.  Let’s suppose I accept the premise that the artist is creating a 100% objective reflection — which I don’t, but I’ll set that aside for now — the artist is still an editor.  He or she chooses to represent or omit things as necessary.  It’s impossible to represent everything; there needs to be a focus.  That focus creates a subjective reality.  You can choose to paint a rose bush growing beside a dumpster and omit the dumpster, or paint the dumpster by itself.”

And then I heard a bit of a smug, “Aha!  See, you *do* care about the artist’s role in society.  You *do* want to participate in this, after all”.

Ah, crap.  Well, touche.  All right, you got me.  Busted. :p

Wilde’s take is that art is neutral.  There’s no “good” art or “bad” art, “moral” or “immoral” art.  Art just is.  Everything else is criticism.

I think we still live in a world where the powers that be are afraid of what might happen if people wake up to the idea that spirituality is simple, accessible and powerful.  As though spirituality can be 2 of these things at once, but not all 3:

Simple and accessible, but not powerful.  Like Yoga at the Y.
Accessible and powerful, but not simple.  Like a Course in Miracles.
Simple and powerful, but not accessible.  Only for the Buddha.  Or maybe some Tibetan monks.

Yet on a gut level, we know that spirituality truly is Simple, Accessible and Powerful.  The trick is truly, whole-heartedly taking in this knowledge with certainty.

Ethics & the Big Goodbye

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.

John Lennon

A really cool thing about being psychic is being able to talk to dead people – even famous dead people.

Many people whose lives had a huge impact on earth continue to do their work from heaven.  John Lennon is one of them.

My Sweetie first told me about her contact with John a few weeks into my practice talking to dead people.  John first came to her when she was 15 and attending a catholic high school, just before her confirmation.  She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to be confirmed, and she and John had their first conversation about religion.

Today, Sweetie sends me an email – she had another conversation with John.  I’ll cut and paste it:

I think Sunshine is a bit exasperated.  After you left this morning I told her that since you were going to work we’d have to finish the conversation about Bali another time.  So she said, “Well, *you* could talk to me.  You talk to John all the time”.


Which is not exactly true, in any case.  It’s more like he’s been talking to me.  Ever since Sunshine mentioned that he’s been hanging around (which I sort of suspected, I thought I felt him around but I wasn’t sure and I guess she wanted to confirm that for me) he’s been popping into my thoughts.  Which is ok, it’s not really freaking me out or anything.

And you know what he wants to talk about, of all things?
Like, seriously.
Although it’s not yet clear to me whether he wants to *learn* about 3rd wave feminism, or if he just wants me to know that his own understanding of the subject has broadened since he was alive in the 70s.

I was listening to this old Beatles song called Run For Your Life — one of his — which is just this really toxic mix of sexism, jealously and a broad lack of self awareness.  He pops in shaking his head.  He’s like, “I don’t believe that.  I don’t think that way.  If I felt that way at the time, I certainly don’t feel that way now”.

And I’m like, “Oh, it’s ok.  I get it.  I get the 60s, I’ve seen James Bond movies”.  (‘Cause I don’t know.  What does one say to that?).

Last night before my nap I was looking through the track listing for Shaved Fish, which has this song called Woman is the Nigger of the World.  (Check out the lyrics, it’s really not what it sounds like).

At which point I whispered out loud, “Ohhhh man, that song makes me cringe”.
And he says, “Why?”
I’m like, “I hate that word”.
And he says, “But that’s the point”.
And I say, “I know.  But.  I *really* hate that word”.  And then I think for a moment.
And I say, “It’s more than that.  Some people are black *and* women.  It’s different for them.  This song doesn’t consider what it’s like for them.  No one makes them “paint their face and dance”, like you say, some people don’t consider them at all.  You’re only talking about a certain kind of woman, of a certain status.  So it’s kind of classist, also”.
And he said, “Oh.  I hadn’t thought about it that way”.

And then he got quiet and I felt like he was *really* embarrassed, and I didn’t understand why.  I’d expected him to defend it, or something, but instead there was this embarrassed silence.  Like a total overreaction.

But then it dawned on me — oh!  He’s English.  The whole class thing is a huge hairy deal over there.  And he’d built this career on *being* working class, keeping what is still considered to be a low-class accent when most performers learn to talk like Londoners, writing that song Working Class Hero, wearing a shirt that said the same thing, etc.

Oops.  I guess that was kind of a slap in the face.

So then I started back pedaling.

“Well, it’s ok, don’t worry about it.  Everyone still loves you.  You took a lot of chances in your work, you can’t get it right all the time…”

So this morning I asked him, “Why the interest in feminism?  I thought you didn’t believe in ‘isms’ “.
And he said, “It’s not that.  I don’t believe in mindless dogma.  I think you should think for yourself. …I mean, *people* should”.

Also, I won’t be that surprised if I hear, “You know, you should listen to your white cat”.

John Lennon.  Still a really cool guy.

He likes to talk to people – anyone interested in talking to him should just ask.  He’s just as much into dialogue now as he ever was, and he makes time for people because he believes that every individual is important.

He is still working for world peace.


I had a really long conversation with my mother on Saturday.  We got in touch with her grandmother, her mother’s mother’s mother.  Great Grandmother emigrated from England to Canada, in order to marry.  She already had one child at the time (scandal!)

Great Grandmother (GG) never returned to visit England or her family again.  My mother was always very curious about this, and how GG must have felt to be rejected by her family.
Well it turns out, GG was the one who rejected her family.  She describes her first love as a mistake.  She fell in love with this man, she thought the way she felt was going to last forever.  But when she discovered she was pregnant, he didn’t want to marry her, and so in the eyes of the family, GG had been disgraced.

Thing is, GG never took on the disgrace.  She felt she’d made a mistake and learned from it, but that her mistake was not a reason to be ashamed.  She was very practical.  She refused to be contrite, or to hang her head.  She embraced the opportunity to leave England and start a new life away from the stuffy traditions of her old family.

Since she refused to be ashamed, she was not motivated to return to England.  Her family would expect her to be contrite, to wear the colours of shame, and GG was disinclined to do so.

GG was full of advice for my mother, my grandmother and my sister.  She visits a particular grandchild, Jennifer, who has recently moved to Austraulia, and enjoys her great, great grandchildren.  She told us that my mother’s other grandmother, her father’s mother, is preparing to incarnate as Jennifer’s next child, and will be a girl again.  She’s practicing childhood in heaven, practicing how to play, how to run with joy, how to climb trees with wonder.

I get the impression that this will be her last incarnation, and that she’s coming in specifically to practice childhood, and might die around the time puberty kicks in.

Which brings me to ethics.

There’s information that I get as a psychic which is not necessarily beneficial to pass along.  And, the future is always in motion – it can look one way and change after a year of people making different choices.

I will never tell my cousin that I think her coming baby, her youngest child, may have a short life.  I ask if there is something that can be done to change it?  I haven’t gotten an answer on that one yet.

There are a few different schools of thought on the ethics of passing on information to which psychics are privy.  Christopher Reburn has said several times on his podcast that if you have the information, it is sacred information  from God and you are meant to pass it on.

I feel more in line with Echo Bodine’s philosophy.  You must be compassionate.  You must use your head as well as your heart.  You can ask your guides and angels for the wisdom on whether and how to deliver certain information.

I’m developing my own interpretation of ethics in psychic arts:  If there could be an accident, a travel warning, any way to prevent harm from coming to a person, pass it on.  If the information will cause only worry, pass on only what is needed, and keep the rest.

Last night, Courtney (with the gangsta ghost friend, Lyle) called me asking if I could see any information relating to a splitting psychic migraine she’d been slammed with an hour before.

I had to play 20 questions with our guides.  We determined it was concerning a young man, and I got a general travel warning.  I asked Courtney to call her friends who came to mind, in particular her brother and her friend Shane (the one she brought sand for from Egypt).

About an hour later, I was talking with my cat Sunshine.  Sunshine said, “It’s a car accident.  It’s already going to happen.  Catastrophic head trauma, but he may not die.  You’ll find out about it on Monday.”

So I texted Courtney and said, “My cat says it’s a car accident – text travel warnings to everyone, please.”

Sweetie and I then sent out a protective bubble and asked our angels to place it around the person Sunshine was talking about, the person Courtney’s headache was tapping into.

I did not tell Courtney that my cat said, “It’s already going to happen.”  I will call Courtney later to see if she found anything out today.

This is another reason I’m going to keep this blog anonymous.

I like to try to end readings on a positive note, so I asked her pug (dog) Tuna to tell me something.  He showed me chips.  I said, “Oh, Tuna wants chips.  Regular – wait, salt & vinegar chips!”

Well it turns out that Tuna doesn’t eat chips at all, but he was simply reporting that Courtney had some salt & vinegar chips in her cupboard.  Funny, all these animals reporting their people’s dietary indiscretions to me.

(I feel obligated to clarify that the picture in today’s post is NOT my Great Grandmother.  She thinks that picture is ugly.  I think it’s funny, so I’m posting it anyway – it came up in my search for a “wise woman”.)

Ghost Dog Pee

I did a phone reading for Ellie’s friend, Liz.  Liz has been going through a difficult time lately, and I learned a few things in doing a reading for her.

I learned that someone elses’ state of mind can really affect the effort of a reading.  Most of the reading was heavy subject matter, stuff that caused her pain to think about.  The pain seemed to constrict my reading somehow.  I didn’t quite realize what was happening until we got as far as I felt we could get with the heavy stuff and asked if she had an animal in mind to talk to.

She told me about Benji, her dog.  Benji was a yorkie who died a few years ago.  Right away I got Benji’s cause of death (kidney failure) that he had a blue collar and a blue coat.  He loved when people would call him handsome.

Then I got a picture of him on Liz’s lap, teeth bared, and lunging like a little land shark at someone else.

“Uh, did Benj get snappy sometimes?”

“yes, all the time!”

Then I saw him parading all around the house, lifting his leg everywhere.  “Uh, did he pee on things inside?”

“Yes!  Oh god he peed everywhere!”

Turns out, Benj was a little tyrant.

The kicker?  He still visits Liz, walks around the house and pees on things.  “Do you still smell pee sometimes?”

“Yes!  Especially in my studio.”

“Yeah, that’s Benj.  He’s still peeing on things.  When you smell pee, it’s him saying hi!”

It’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard of a ghost animal doing.  I’ve heard some people smell their dead grandmother’s perfume… well lucky Liz gets to smell her dead dog’s pee.

There’s an argument for getting dominant behaviour like that under control while the dog’s alive – you might end up getting haunted by his bad habits from the other side!


Yesterday, I started writing a post and accidentally deleted it before it “posted”.  I wouldn’t mention it except this next post I need to write refers back to the deleted one, so I’ll quickly summarize what I’d written:

We had a ghost come to visit my sweetie in our warehouse while she was working.  While Sweetie works, she listens to music from her laptop computer.  She noticed a food scoop swinging on its hook, right next to other scoops which were not moving.  She said,

“Okay, if that’s a spirit, keep that scoop swinging until the end of this song.”

The scoop continued to swing, prodded by an invisible finger, until the end of the song.  The song ended and the computer turned itself off.  You know, just in case there was any doubt there was a ghost in da’ house.

I went to the warehouse later and got in touch with him – the spirit likes to be called “Bush Man” or “Forest Man”.  He did not need help finding heaven, he has heaven right here.  He looks after all of the animals and trees in the bush, along his traditional trail.  He showed me baby birds in a nest, hidden mink in their burrow.  I understood this is exactly what he loves to do, but like any being, it’s nice to have others aware of your existence.  He was just coming in to say hello.

Sweetie was telling a friend of our’s about this little incident, and here’s the thing – it turns out our friend Gord is completely psychic!

Sweetie said, “Oh and our warehouse is haunted.”

Gord replied, “Oh you mean that place next door?”

“No, the warehouse – wait, what’s wrong with that place next door???”

We have a boathouse next door to our apartment that is utterly creepy.  Gord says that bad people used to hurt men in that boat house.  We haven’t asked for more details, yet.  Damn, there is just so much work that needs to be done on our (rented) property.

Thus begins the dialogue.  I can’t believe this guy we’ve known for fifteen years has been completely psychic and it never came up in conversation before.

Gord then started talking about Ben, another friend of ours who died a few years ago when his motorcycle hit an oncoming transport truck.  Ben went to visit Gord and showed him how to have out of body experiences at will.

I can’t believe I didn’t think of trying to contact Ben myself.

So last night, while putting up the Christmas tree, Ben came through.  He always had a dark, teasing sense of humour, and I think being a spirit has made it worse:

“So, I think it’s awesome you guys are lesbians now,” he said, by way of a greeting.  He had died about six months before Sweetie & I had gotten together.

He was full of these sorts of teasing things.  “Yeah!  I totally watch you two having sex now!”

OH MY GOD!  You do not!

I know he hasn’t, but all the same, next time we go to bed we’re casting a *privacy* energy curtain.  I would not put it past Ben to pop in just to be a tease.

“Yeah, I get into strip clubs all the time, now I get lap dances for free!”  He showed himself sitting on the lap of a biker getting a lap dance.

It’s so funny, I knew he was thinking up all these things to tease his feminist lesbian friends.

Still fumbling with the Christmas tree, I grumbled, “You know Ben, we’re trying to get this tree up.  You could help us.  Any suggestions?”

“Get a man to do it!”

OH,  HAW-HAW BEN!  What a bugger.

Imagine what he said when I complained the screws for the tree stand weren’t long enough.

Turns out Ben was psychic when he was alive too – he said he could see all the spirits around Sweetie at the last New Year’s party we’d all been at together.  He said he was impressed her spirit friends were so cool.  I think that Sweetie’s Uncle, the greaser who was murdered, just looks really bad-ass and invited a few of his friends to the party.  To most people it looked like Sweetie was sitting on the couch by herself, watching the party, but Ben saw her surrounded by a crowd.

At some point I got tired and had to send Ben home.  We invited him for Christmas.  He asked if we’d put a glass of wine out for him, and we will.

I feel so happy to have another friend back.

The Creator, God, Goddess, Mother Earth & Angels

Remember how in a previous post I talked about Christianity, and how something in me rails against this Christian consensus in psychic culture?  So many psychics talk about Christian saints, Christian angels, and speak of one God.

Well, Sylvia Brown also talks of the Goddess, Azna, who is a powerful mother.  She’s the only psychic I’ve encountered who talks of God sometimes in female terms, but in general when someone dies, she says they have “returned to God”.

I’ve talked before too of how I have experienced spirituality in nature.  I think of God as The Creator, and have also, along the way, incorporated Azna into my prayers over the past fifteen years. 

But, when I went camping and slept on the sparkling-pink quartz and granite boulder by the lakeside in Northern Ontario, this was not God, the Creator or Azna who I slept upon – this was Mother Earth, or Gaia.  I felt her like an infant senses her own mother. 

Recently, since I have started sensing and speaking with people who have passed on, I have called heavily upon the help of Angels. 

Angels are spoken about in great detail in Christian tradition, and I haven’t encountered anything angel-like in other religious teachings.  Most other religions leave plenty of room for the Ancestors, which Angels are.  But Angels are different from spirits or ghosts.  They’re powerful and do great work. 

I hadn’t had much call to really ask Angels to help me before.  If I felt threatened, I’d ask them to guard my bed, but now, it seems we’ve welcomed all kinds of spirits into our home.  They move around at night, our little dog Bonus growls at them, and it disturbs our sleep.  So now, every night, before we go to sleep, my sweetie and I light a candle, call the angels, seal off the borders of all of our rooms with white light, as though leaving a trail of salt.  We ask angels to be posted in areas where we’ve felt a lot of activity (lately spirits have been walking from one room out the front door).  We finish by visualizing the house filling up with white light, like water fills a fish bowl.

We sleep much better this way.  I’ve never spoken to angels so much in my life before now, and I don’t know what we’d do without them.  I think our night times would be quite scary.

Recently, my sweetie asked about two paramedics that used to work at my hospital.  They both died a year ago, together, while working.

While talking with my guide Aries about these two paramedics, the message came through, “They are angels in training.  God called them home.”

You know how, when someone dies, sometimes it’s said that “God must have needed another Angel”?  Before now, I’ve always felt this was a stilted statement, over-Christian-ized, inappropriate to foist upon someone mourning the death of a loved one.

In this case, it’s perfectly true.  In fact, these two were training to be Angels long before they came into this last life.  Being paramedics and all the work they’ve done in the community put them in the ideal position to get experience.  They comforted people in crisis, they helped bring babies into the world, they witnessed people leave their bodies.

You know what?  They are still working.

They are STILL WORKING.  Here.  At This Hospital.  They sometimes ride along with the new paramedics, who are still nervous and in training themselves.  Sometimes people will wake up in shock after a trauma, and see the white shapes above them – these are the angels that I & J are becoming.

They pop into the hospital to help people cross over – those people who perhaps don’t have loved ones right there to take their hand. 

They are helping us is so many ways, it’s so incredible.

And I can’t tell anyone!  Argh!  They were so loved here, they are so missed.  I would love to be able to tell everyone at the hospital how I & J are still working along side them.

And also, how their death was planned.  That was the end of their lifetime.  Their death, so sudden and tragic, sent shock waves through our community.  But it was one of those things that was meant to happen.

God needed a couple more angels, and so he called them home.

Christianity did get some things right.