Watching movies with spooks

Living with this capacity for psychic input isn’t all spirituality and personal growth. Sometimes animals or spirit friends have profound and startling things to say about life, the universe and everything, but sometimes they just want to talk about food, sex and entertainment. Wednesday was one of those nights.

To set this up, I’ll say that I’m not a film buff at all. I know what I like, and it’s generally pretty immature and low brow (so long as it isn’t stupidly racist or sexist. Ironically racist and sexist is fine.) I don’t like scary movies, and I really find that art movies are wasted on me. My movie / tv genre is comedy (or lightweight action/comedy.)

Now I’m not going to go and actually recommend any of these movies, because if you’re not a fan of stupid comedy, you’re not going to like them, and if you ARE a fan of stupid comedy, you will have already seen them (probably). One of my favourite movies ever is Forgetting Sarah Marshall. It’s about the boyfriend of a famous cheesy actress of a CSI-type TV show – Sarah, the star, dumps the protagonist, who spirals through the breakup-mourning process and hilarity ensues.

In this movie, a parody rock-star character appears as Sarah’s new boyfriend, Aldous Snow from the band, Infant Sorrow. He sings hilarious parody rock-star songs like, “Someone should do something!” (help mother earth) and “Inside of You” an utterly squicking over-the-top metaphor for the obvious.

This new-to-me movie, Get Him To The Greek, picks up Aldous Snow six years later after a typical train wreck rock star life. His career took a downturn after writing a patronizing and (ironically) racist song called African Child, in which he presents himself as a white African Christ from space. He copes with the resulting fallout by breaking his years-long sobriety and generally going down in flames.

The movie takes you through this larger-than-life insanity of the music industry, the merciless users and the nice guy caught up in what should be the job of his dreams turned nightmare. Sweetie actually knows a guy who works for Sony who is eerily like “Jazz Guy” from this movie. Part of what was so funny about this movie was seeing this setting and villainous record exec characters after hearing about all this crap from Kurt. Apparently, this movie isn’t much of an exaggeration.

The movie stands on its own for fans of Sarah Marshall and other irreverent comedies like the Harold & Kumar movies. In fact, the guy who plays Kumar is in this movie too, which is fun, and so are a lot of *actual* rock stars like Pink and the drummer from Metallica.

What was really fun about watching this movie was when Kurt decided to pop in and watch it with us, and it seems he brought Sid (Vicious) along. See, this is why there’s a disclaimer on the top of this blog – I can be rolling along all new-age normal talking about spirits and animal communication, then I say something unbelievable like “I was watching this movie with my Sweetie and the spirits of Kurt Cobain and Sid Vicious…”

So suspend your disbelief people, if you dare to read on!

It was Sweetie, myself and Happy the dog all crammed on our 1970s floral print velour couch, and “the boys” I perceived as sitting on the back of the couch. Convenient, since we had no other seating available to them, and for some reason spirits really do like to sit down when we’re having long conversations.

I wasn’t surprised to see Kurt, since Sweetie had already watched the movie and told me there were Beatles and Nirvana callouts throughout the film. I was surprised to see Sid, since we only spoke with him for a brief period of time many months ago and he seemed to have disappeared. Sometimes they do that, it’s actually quite exceptional that they’d stick around to form what I can only describe as a friendship, and very rare that they’d show up to watch a movie.

Their commentary added some extra fun to the viewing. The first that comes to mind was Kurt going, “Ahhhh! Ah hahahaha! Ahhh! It’s him!” Having this total fan moment the second Metallica’s drummer came on to the screen. Sweetie said, “Yeah, that’s really him!” and Kurt said, “I wrote that guy a letter once, to try and get him to drum for us (Nirvana). I never heard back,” and I got this feeling that Kurt was such a huge (somewhat closeted) Metallica fan.

At one point the record exec, after sending Aldous Snow on stage with a hideously broken arm, was ranting about how indestructible British musicians are, and how they never die. “Look at Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, British rock stars don’t ever die!” And then I hear Sid go, “Excuse me, dead British rock star right here. Hello?” And he and Kurt were having this giggle/snicker fest about it.

The funniest was at the end of the movie, when Aldous was teasing his friend who was wearing a large blue flannel shirt. “Is this your grunge look? You look like a lesbian!” My inner lesbian feminist went, “Heeey!” and a second later I hear Kurt: “Well, you DO have a shirt that looks like that!”

He’s right, I do. So much for indignation.

At one point, Kurt & Sid were energetically discussing who Aldous Snow’s character was based upon. It started with Kurt saying, “Can you believe this asshole is based upon me?” And then Sid goes, “Uh, how is he based upon you, he’s British. Mate.”

Thus ensued this background discussion about Aldous’ personality, his sense of humour, his dress, his accent, his crazy-making abilities (his love of de-railing and messing up the lives and plans of others), the style of his addiction (and I didn’t know that addicts have styles, but I guess they do.) Sid then pointed out that they actually PLAYED one a sex pistols song (I am an anarchist).

Sweetie, who didn’t mention whether she was aware of this background chatter, chimed in “I think he looks like Freddy Mercury.” That shut both the boys up pretty quickly.

Hey, Kurt, are you there? Did you want to say anything about the movie?

Yeah, I think they should do a movie with a blond rock star, (grin, smokes cigarette).

You want to see a parody based on Kurt Cobain? Yeah, people still take my life so fucking seriously. *I* didn’t take it that seriously, even when (teen spirit) was out and we had made it, we were these big rock stars, I would just laugh about it. I just couldn’t get over the irony, here’s me, this rock star. And I was just a kid, you know? I never grew up. Maybe I was in the right business after all (exhales smoke – okay I guess it wasn’t a cigarette, nice buddy.)

Kurt’s showing me this character parody of him, this big, dumb blond rock star who is, like, indestructible. Kind of like super-man, and he can withstand / keep up with the rock star lifestyle without it making him tired or sick or addicted to anything, and people can punch him and he just shakes it off. Kind of like a gorgeous Forrest Gump of a rock star, “But not quite that dumb!” Kurt qualifies.

Kind of like zoolander, but a musician, sans the huge ego. There’s this endearing, dumb ignorance of the industry, it’s corruption and how it’s supposed to destroy him, but it doesn’t because he’s this super-man guy who never gets hurt or tired or sees the bad in people.

That’s actually really sweet, Kurt.

Yeah, it’s about creating your reality, right? He’s participating in this crazy, corrupted world but he doesn’t see or experience any of the negative things, he just lives it, and loves it, and helps people by being around, bringing them into his perception of things. He restores the faith. A rock star Jesus for the industry!

Ha! Why doncha ask Jesus what he’d think of that?

He says the Christ spirit is in all of us. (Kurt didn’t miss a beat, and he’s got this smug smirk look on his face, he knows he’s got me.)

I love you, man. Thanks for the visit, it’s been a while. (Shows me he’s been visiting Sweetie at work when she does laundry. Kurt’s really more Sweetie’s buddy. I think they understand each other.)

Kurt, did you bring Sid to the movie? Do you two hang out a lot?

Yeah, well, (shows me how much they have/had in common in the last rock star life, the anarchy, the subversive sense of humour, the rejection of culture.)

Last time I saw you guys together, it was like you were helping him, is that right?

Naw, we’re helping each other. We’re just friends. (brothers) (This is similar to when I asked Kurt and John what their relationship was, and I got this sense of love, and a bond, and the word “brothers”. I don’t exactly understand what that means, maybe it’s how you describe a long-term friendship of spirit.)

Who was that saying, “I am a golden god?” during the move last night?

Oh, that was me – it was (movie) “Almost Famous” – we’d like to watch that next.

Awesome. Guess we’ll have another spirit movie night coming up. (Oh, and High Fidelity!)

It’s entries like this that I’m glad this blog is not directly associated with my professional website. 😉

Happy Friday, everyone.


I was just about to post this when I got this email from Sweetie, referencing the piano we’re learning to play:

Okay. I have like a million (okay, a thousand) sheet music PDF files that actually work and are opening. And a lot of them are songs that I’d actually want to play, and pretty much all the songs that I *used* to know how to play are in there too, so I can re-learn them.

Oh, and there’s a lot of songs that you’d like to learn also… i.e. songs you like moreso than me, like Alanis and Harry Potter stuff. Hallelujah is there, and I want to learn that immediately; it looks pretty easy. Really awesome because I just woke up this morning thinking, "I need to learn that song". And there it is!

Oh and Metallica’s there, because apparently they keep popping up. (Of course Kurt thinks I should learn it… maybe I will… heavy metal + piano = funny).
Imagine is there too so I want to print that out right away. Bohemian Rhapsody… that’s pretty epic. A whole bunch of Tori Amos.

One side effect of talking to dead rock stars is they encourage you to play music. Okay guys, John, Kurt, George, could you please help us get a piano and a nice acoustic guitar to keep at home and learn on? We’d really appreciate it. I’ve been wanting to learn both for quite a while.

You see what you expect.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how John relates to other incarnated people, and how Kurt seemed to change a lot in how he related to me.

I think a lot of it has to do with how we relate to them, first.

I’ll be honest – when Kurt first came in, I thought he was kind of a pain in the ass.  I didn’t really know anything about him, and I expected him to behave a lot like how the pain-in-the-ass 15 year old boys behaved in middle school.  Sweetie has a knack of getting straight to the sweet, innocent inner boy with these types of people – one of her childhood friends is a huge drug addict who generally makes a colossal ass of himself in public, and his hobbies include a lot of life-threatening, thrill-seeking activities.  I can’t relate to this guy at all.

Yet, over the years, he never forgets Sweetie’s birthday.  He always sends her a message or a note, tells her he loves her.  And that’s endeared him to me.  At least, I understand their relationship a bit more.

So at first, I kind of saw Kurt as another one of Sweetie’s lost boys.  I had *no idea* who he really was.  When Sweetie first called Kurt in, I swear I saw him as an angel descending – wearing a white linen tunic thing (always with pants though!) with longish, blond, very clean wavy hair.  I asked “Who’s Kurt Cobain?”

“Oh, he was that guy in Nirvana.  You know, Smells Like Teen Spirit?”

And instantly my image of Kurt changed.  I thought he’d changed his presentation so I’d recognize him – he presented in a faded plain shirt, beat up combat boots, stringy, unwashed, dirty-blond hair.  Sadness, such sadness.  Ah yes, I remember this Kurt Cobain.  I remember when Nirvana was everywhere.

But now I’m rethinking this shift.  Perhaps Kurt just tuned into my expectation of him in that moment, showed me who I thought he was.  He reflected my image of him back at me.  He even comedically humped things around the house, like he was some crazed rocker on E, who couldn’t help but rub up against soft pillows, table legs, John’s head, whatever, in a stoned-out crazy way.  I just relayed his antics to Sweetie, chuckled / rolled my eyes and went about my day.

He called me “bitch” a lot.  In a playful way, but annoying nonetheless.  I finally asked him to stop, it was pissing me off so much (something Kurt can’t resist, really).  He and Sweetie were doing their own private work, so I figured he was there for Sweetie alone, and it made sense to me at the time.

And then one night, he stepped forward as my teacher during meditation.  In this state of meditation, I had set all of my personality, my expectations of myself and others aside.  I saw the angelic Kurt again.  I saw a gentle guy who loved people.  Who wanted to help.  Whose intentions were good and earnest.  And these meditative journeys into my soul’s past are changing my perspective on everything.  This is the most transformative period in my life.  So far.

With Kurt’s birthday present to me, I’ve become a Nirvana fan.  I’ll listen to the four albums we have back to back.  I find it relaxing, which is so odd, considering the intensity of the sound and lyrics. 

The only song Kurt discourages me from listening to is “Rape Me”, from the In Utero album.  Whenever it comes along in the playlist I’ll hear, “Skip this shit.  You don’t need it.”  Sometimes the track will skip on its own.  Thing is, I like that song now.  Yesterday, while driving to work, I got stubborn.  “I WANT to listen to it, damn it!”  In the first verse of the song, the adapter to the speaker fell out of the charger.  The music stopped.  “Don’t make me break your ipod.”    Big sigh.  “FINE.”  And I skipped the track again. 

That was actually a really impressive move, looking back on it.  It’s not easy to move things like that. 

Since we started our meditation together, Kurt has often called me “Babe” or sometimes “Angel” – just as he’s addressed Sweetie.  I started doing Kurt research and found out what a big feminist he was during his last life.  Kurt’s shown me a lot in my own soul’s history around rape-specific violence.   Last night, from the perspective of a man… understanding how this man (me in a past life) got to a point where he could see women only through eyes of possession and hate.  You have to see yourself with hate first.  This sort of violence turns back on the perpetrator, and it ripples ever outward.  Violence has saturated our culture.

This sort of learning is a very intimate experience, and I feel this super-close friendship-type relationship build between us.  He likes to call me “little sister” sometimes, in a way that feels like irony.  Whenever I’ve asked to see if there’s a past life connection between Kurt & I, I always see him as a young boy, and I hear “little brother” – so it’s like the younger brother calling his big sister “little sister” because here he is, taking care of me where once, I looked after him.

I remember a Courtney Love quote, on how needy Kurt could be:  That guy can’t catch a cab by himself! 

John too has talked about how high maintenance he could be in relationships.  When Yoko kicked him out, he said she was right to do so.

When we tapped into John and later with Kurt, both spirits powerfully communicated the emotions they experienced in their life, and deep empathy for those they left behind after death.  The emotion around John’s death was so strongly one of injustice, of a sense of wrong, I thought that perhaps John had died when he wasn’t meant to go.  Now I understand this as John sharing his overwhelming empathetic experience with the emotion created in response to his death.  He expressed terrible, torturous sadness at being separated, no ripped, from his family.

Kurt has also shared with touching intensity, the feelings of a young boy’s abandonment by his family, how he made a choice to strike out on his own (couch surfing, living the friends’ families) rather than submit to the foster system.  Being “in the system” terrified him.  “If my family, people who were supposed to love me, could treat me like that, what would strangers do to me?”  He also said, with heartbroken vulnerability, “Mothers are supposed to look after their kids.”

So why were our first conversations with Kurt & John so fraught with flawed human emotion?  Aren’t they spirits now?  Should they be above this, or over it?  (Huh, heaven is “above” – I wonder if that’s where this expression originated?)  Yet it seemed, in those moments of communication, that the pain was still real and present.

I asked Kurt about this the other day.  He says, “Well when you relate to us as tragic heros, that’s what we become to you.  When I relate to you as Kurt the kid, all that experience is still there for me to draw on, like, you just tap into it with the conversation.  It’s the best way to communicate, sometimes.”

I understood that it’s not like Kurt or John are *still* hurting right now.  They have this as part of their soul’s experience.  We all have past hurts we can tap into.  I was reminded that John & Kurt have also been many other people.  When I talk to Kurt, Kurt is there.  When I talk to John as John, there he is.  Occasionally, he’ll show up as figures from his other lives as well – and when this happens, I sometimes forget that there’s any connection between the two characters at all.

It reminds me of my Sea Urchin Lesson, which I’ve been returning to almost daily:

How fragmented our perspective, how fractal-like our bodies and our soul-journeys can be.  How easily a new consciousness breaks away from a single mind.  How joyous the return to the whole.

When you look at a sea urchin, what do you see?  A soulless plant?  A single animal?  A collection of many, linked Borg-like minds?  A soul collective? 

When you look at John Lennon, who do you see?

Kurt Cobain – Feminist

Found this great article on Kurt’s Feminism; from quotes about why he won’t deal with Guns n’ Roses, to wishing he was gay to piss off homophobes, to quotes about his controversial anti-rape songs such as “Rape Me” and “Polly”.  Again, due to subject matter, reader discretion is appropriate here.

The article is posted in this location:

But the website is so full of ads, I thought I’d save you the trouble and post it here:


If Generation X had a king it would be Kurt Cobain. His devil may care attitude arguably defined a generation of people. His haunting melodies and desperate screams spoke to youth disenchanted with societies’ expectations. He cared about a lot of things despite what his attitude projected. He was one of a handful of male feminists who reached enough fame to project their ideas on a mass scale. Through his songs and even in his interviews he repeatedly noted how much he detested sexism. Up until his untimely suicide in 1994 and despite his drug abuse and personal issues, he never wavered in his attempt to prove that men, even famous rock band having men, could be proud unadulterated feminists.

Kurt was open about his dissociation with the masculine ideal.  He was quoted as saying “I’ve always had a problem with the average macho man – they’ve always been a threat to me.”  His mellow nature defied traditional gender roles. ‘Territorial Pissing’ may have been in response to the disenchantment he had experienced with masculine behavior.  During his music video for one of his hit singles ‘In Bloom’ he donned a dress and also wore a dress during an interview with the Los Angeles Times noting “Wearing a dress shows I can be as feminine as I want.”

In junior high school Kurt noted that he was very into heavy metal but that he grew out of it. In an interview with Metal Express in 1994 he commented “I have nothing against heavy metal, except that some of it is pretty sexist”.  This was very different from the male prominent bands of the time, who made a considerable amount off of the degradation of women in music.

His progressive beliefs put him at odds with Guns and Roses, Axl called him a ‘pussy’ for not agreeing to tour with him. Kurt says he didn’t agree to tour with him because he believed him to be a racist homophobe referring to lyrics in his song ‘one in a million’ where he says “niggers and police” and “immigrants and faggots” and in ‘It’s so easy’ where he sings “Turn around bitch, I got a use for you”.

Whilst performing at a “No On 9” benefit, (supporting defeating of Measure 9 an anti-homosexuality measure that said homosexuality was “abnormal, wrong, unnatural and perverse and they are to be discouraged and avoided”) he was approached by a kid that suggested he and Guns and Roses patch thing up. He responded with, “No, kid, you’re really wrong. Those people are total sexist jerks, and the reason we’re playing this show is to fight homophobia in a real small way. The guy is a fucking sexist and a racist and a homophobe, and you can’t be on his side and be on our side. I’m sorry that I have to divide this up like this, but it’s something you can’t ignore.”

In an interview Kurt describes an encounter he had with Axl where Courtney jokingly asked Axl to be the god father of, then nine month old, Frances. He turned around and told her “shut the fuck up bitch” and instructed Kurt to “shut her up”. Cobain then told the reporter he had not encountered a situation like that since the sixth grade.

Cobain was against all forms of prejudice. In the liner notes of Incesticide he wrote “If you’re a racist, a sexist, a homophobe, we don’t want you to buy our records.” In high school Kurt was often called discriminatory names alluding to him being homosexual because he was good friends with an openly gay male student. Despite this, he began to embrace the taunts and acted as though he was gay saying he, “really enjoyed the conflict” He got arrested for spray painting “Gay sex rules” onto an Aberdeen bank and “God is gay” on a van. He insisted he was ‘gay in spirit’ and said “I wish I were gay, just to piss off homophobes”. No Alternative is a compilation album the proceeds of which went to AIDS Prevention to which he provided the song ‘Sappy’.

Good friends are hard to find but Cobain managed to find them. Cobain was good friends Bikini Kills’ Kathleen Hanna, a strong proponent of the feminist scene who no doubt was an influence on his views. She was the inspiration for his titling of the song “Smells Like Teen Spirit” after spray painting “Kurt smells like teen spirit” on his front wall. Toby Vail, the drummer from Go Team and collaborator with Bikini Kill and all around feminist activist, dated Kurt. She was also featured very fondly in his song ‘Aneurysm’ written during their relationship. He supported his wife Courtney Love’s band Hole and said that ideally he would quit Nirvana and be a guitarist for her band.  At the time Hole was considered a highly feminist band. Love used to pass out a guitar to a girl at the end of each concert to encourage young girls to enter the male dominated music scene.

Kurt’s sarcasm was tragically misunderstood. Along with his vintage acoustic guitar proudly having 1972s Nixon Now plastered on it for ironic effect, many of his songs were made to be so much that they weren’t. He was forced to re-iterate time and time again that In Utero’s hit single “Rape Me” was a song against rape. Kurt clarified bluntly, “It’s an anti-, let me repeat that, anti-rape song” Insisting that it was meant to be blunt so that people would not misinterpret it.  “It’s like she’s saying ‘Rape me, go ahead, rape me, beat me. You’ll never kill me. I’ll survive this.’”

Tori Amos, an open rape survivor, defended him on this point saying that the songs shocking effect was done on purpose, “It’s a defiant song… When I first heard it I broke out in a cold sweat, but when you get over that you realize he’s turning it back on people.”  Continuing to promote how truly against rape he was, he and Courtney Love preformed at the Rock Against Rape benefit in Los Angeles in 1993.

‘Rape me’ was not the only song that Kurt wrote to give light to the issue of rape. ‘Polly’ from Nirvana’s  Nevermind album is yet another anti-rape song. It retells a story he had read in the newspaper of a 14 year old girl named Polly who had been kidnapped by Gerald Arthur Friend in 1987 after a rock concert and tortured with a propane torch, then raped. He wrote it in homage to ‘Polly’ and re-imagines her daring escape from her captor. When he heard that there had been a group of boys that had raped a girl whilst singing the song ‘Polly’, he denounced them in the liner notes of his album Incestiside calling them “a waste of sperm and eggs” and said he “has a hard time carrying on knowing that plankton like that” were in his audience.

‘In Bloom’ addressed the disparity between the audience he wanted and the one he had. In the song he sing “He’s the one who  likes all our pretty songs and he likes to sing along… but he don’t know what it means” and ‘all apologies’ where he wrote “I wish I was like you, easily amused”.

Cobain was perfect by no means, but he did contribute to feminism in a great many ways.  Since Kurt Cobain’s suicide we are left to wonder what effect he could have had on today’s sexism.  With his undeniable ‘cool’ factor, could he have inspired more men to identify themselves as feminists? Unfortunately, we will never know. On the upside, his widow Courtney Love has talked seriously about producing a film about Kurt’s troubled life. Maybe some of his activism will show up on the silver screen soon. We’ll just have to wait and see.


Well there it is.  And another thing: Please write to the manufacturers of products who are using Kurt to sell their shit. 

Look at this:

Fender using Kurt’s image to sell guitars.  The Jaguar comes pre-scuffed for that “road-worn” look:

Sweetie says: More stuff Kurt is posthumously endorsing:

Not *one* shoe, mind, but a *line* of them.  Kinda made me want to barf a little bit.  Some shoes also come “pre-scuffed”.

This link is to a series of fashion photos based on Kurt’s “personal style” and song titles:

Which Kurt scoffs at, insisting he “always wore pants” (referring to the guy in long underwear leaning against a fire hydrant).
I reminded him that I saw him pull his junk out onstage while accepting an MTV award one time.  He just shrugged it off.  He *was* technically wearing pants at the time.

John, George & Kurt on Addiction

2015 02 george heroin

I try to keep the blog balanced between heavy stuff and happy stuff.  We’re a bit heavy on heavy stuff this week, please bear with us.

Sweetie & I had an intense conversation with George & Kurt yesterday on heroin addiction.  Once, when Sweetie had been listing off her grievances with regard to our stressful and failing business, George had quipped, “Well, you could just take up heroin.  That way you’d have one large problem instead of an assortment of small ones.”

We watched a few youtube videos about Kurt; you wouldn’t believe the string of heinous comments on some of those posts.  One comment that stuck in my mind was “He was a junkie and he killed himself, big surprise.”  I felt this huge wave of protest coming from Kurt as I read that comment.

It’s pretty well impossible to get through large-scale rock & roll success without getting into some sort of self-abuse.  The only thing that kept John from mainlining heroin was his near-crippling fear of needles.  He shared this with me when visited me at the hospital once (my work) as I tossed a syringe and needle into the sharps bucket.  I felt a physical shudder from him at the sight of the bloody sharp.

George, sadly, didn’t have any such fear to keep him from mainlining, and with heroin you’re pretty much addicted from the first hit.  George checked into rehab and detoxed.  He meditated a LOT.  Fortunately for George, he had built up a lot of spiritual strength before he had to battle addiction.

Kurt had neither advantage.  He, like George, was hooked from the first hit.  He took H in a desperate attempt to find relief from chronic gut pain and anxiety (screaming his lungs out on stage helped a bit, but not enough.)  Unlike George, Kurt had no spiritual education, no faith, and therefore no help.  He repeatedly tried to seek medical help to get off of heroin, but the doctors he went to patronized him, told him he’d be in constant pain during the detox period, told him he’d be battling urges to shoot up for a decade to come.  Well who the hell would sign up for that?  So he’d leave the belittling, dominating asshole doctor behind and return to his addiction, but feel all the more worthless.

As Kurt told us this story, I felt George’s anger.  This is the first time I’ve felt anything but Zen comin’ from George.  George shook his head in sadness and disgust, because Kurt had been denied the correct information intentionally.  Had Kurt found any doctor with a scrap of morals, or called a few rehab centers himself, he would have learned that methadone would prevent him from experiencing the worst of the detox effects.  And since he was a rock star and could afford all the medical world had to offer, Kurt even could have been kept sedated through the worst of the detox if he became too uncomfortable.  He could have gone somewhere secluded, dropped out of the rock scene entirely.  No one told him this.

Instead, I see stacks of money and a flash of a doctor telling Kurt the horrors of heroin detox.  Doctors who wanted this rich rock-star’s business for years to come.  You don’t offer a quick cure to someone who can afford a long one.  Kurt felt trapped, in so many ways.

I guess, every junkie feels trapped.  The word “junkie” doesn’t do justice to the humanity of the person suffering.

Meanwhile, Heaven opens another door…

On Saturday, while Sweetie & I went into town to do some shopping, a police volunteer came in with a flier of a missing girl.  The cashier announced the flier was posted at the register and could all customers please come take a look.

I’ve never tried to use my psychic abilities to find a missing person.  I asked George, “Should I try to help?”  The answer came roaring back “OF COURSE YOU SHOULD HELP!  Why do you think this flier arrived while you were here?”

Now, it’s one thing to be psychic and read for your friends and family.  It’s a step up to hang a shingle and hire your services out.  It’s another step again to teach.  I’ve taken all of these steps pretty quickly and I’ve been welcomed and supported, thank goodness.  But to out-of-the-blue contact a worried mother about her missing child?  There is a huge amount of responsibility there to do no harm.

Yet I trust my spirit friends.  Everything I’ve experienced told me it would be fine.  I went to far as to take down the mother’s information and I did a meditation to see what I could get…  I got quite a bit.  I wanted to pick up the phone and call, but I just. Couldn’t. do it.
Today I was thinking about it and I said to Kurt, “I don’t know if I’m ready for this missing persons stuff.”  I am the sort of person that when someone asks for help, I want to be able to give it to them.  But this situation had me doubting myself again.   What if I was wrong?  What if I told this poor woman that her daughter was fine, and maybe she turned up dead later?

Yet, I knew this was one door Heaven had opened for me, and I had promised to do the work.  I was so conflicted.

I felt Kurt’s reassurance.  “It’s alright.  Go look at the news.”
So I pulled up the latest newspaper article and lo, the girl had been found.  The brief details given in the article concurred with the information I’d gotten.  If I had called, everything would have been alright.  But, it was just fine that I hadn’t called too, because that was meant to be educational.  To show me I can do it.

“We’ll never ask you to do something you can’t accomplish,” says John with a smile.

Well, that’s comforting.

EDIT:  May 10, 2012

Further to this entry, please also read:

It talks in more detail about Kurt’s repeated attempts at rehab, which were more numerous than he’d intitially implied.  He used all sorts of medication prescribed by various doctors, some ethically, some inethically, and he obtained many tranquilizers illegally to supplement his treatment.  It was a much longer battle than he talks about here, and from the outside looking in, it really seems like everyone around him did everything they possibly could to help.

After listening to the biography, “Heavier than Heaven,” I felt like the version Kurt gave me of his battle with addiction was dishonest.  Rather than dishonest, really, it was simply incomplete.  It’s the story told from his perspective at the time, when he was incapable of seeing what everyone else was doing for him, or the impact he had on those around him.  You ask any addict to tell their story, they’ll usually blunt the edges.  It’s excrutiating to face the pain you have caused.

I have to give Kurt props for talking to me about addiction at all.  Neither George nor John has gone into detail, and I sense this “do not trespass” on the topic.  But maybe that’ll change in time.  We’ll see.

All Kurt could perceive was his own suffering; even when he acknowledged the impact he had on Courtney and would potentially have on Frannie, he used his guilt as self-flagulation to further amplify his own suffering.

Maybe we’ll have a more detailed conversation to clarify a few more points.

Kurt’s House Call

I’m locking comments on this thread for soon-to-be-obvious reasons.  Anyone with sexual violence triggers should skip this entry.  Please understand I do not want sympathy, pity or even empathy.  I wasn’t even sure if I’d post this entry publicly, but then I thought, maybe I’m not the only one.

Last night, I knew what I was in for.  It did not escape my notice that all of the past life regression / integration George & I have been doing in the past two days have involved my incarnations solely as women.  I knew I had (have) some shit to work out.

Last night’s meditation began differently.  Instead of George, Kurt stepped forward.  I honestly haven’t felt as close to Kurt as I have with John & George, I guess I always thought he was around for Sweetie.  Last night, he was there for me.

He sits cross legged in front of me and takes my hands and says, “I’m going to be right here with you, okay babe?”  There’s George, standing to the side.  I understood that George is support/backup, and that Kurt’s going to be doing the active facilitating.  “I haven’t done this before, is that okay with you?”  I then understand that this is part of Kurt’s training too.  This is work he needs to learn how to do, as part of his angel training, and George in this case is his teacher.  I’m learning too, students helping students.  I nod again in understanding and consent.

Here we go.

So, a part of myself that I’ve discussed with only four people in my life is this:  After I hit puberty, I began to experience vivid, flash-back style memories of being raped.  I didn’t remember exactly when or how this had happened.  The memories would come out of nowhere, punch me in the face with terror, and leave utter devastation in its wake.  They were incredibly real.  Once, I was on a public bus, and a flash hit – my mouth felt like it was full of semen, and I needed to throw up.  Random shit like this could hit anytime, anywhere.  For a few years, this phenomenon seemed to fade into the background, but in my 20s it came roaring back.  Usually once or twice a day.  For months.

I didn’t know what to do with these memories.  I wondered if some of these things really had happened to me, and I’d just blocked them out… but some of these flashbacks couldn’t have possibly happened to me.  I have a vivid, visceral experience of someone… Yeah, I don’t even want to write it.  Suffice to say, I know exactly what female genital mutilation feels like – but my own labia are intact and unscarred.  That couldn’t have been me.

I thought I was going crazy.  Once, I went to a psychiatrist and explained what was happening.  She got me to talk about what I was seeing for an hour, then “time’s up” and sent me back out on to the street, utterly raw and without one single tool to cope with these memories.  I felt so, so much worse that I did when I walked in.  That day I made a decision, to never talk about these strange and frightening memories ever again.

I was actually a healthier decision than it sounds.  Basically, I decided not to be defined by trauma.  I did refused to be either victim or survivor.  I chose to walk away from these memories, whatever they were, whatever they meant, they had nothing to do with who I was now, who I chose to become.  I set about putting the individual memories in mental Tupperware and stacked them in a corner of my mind.  I was able to do this only because I talked to a friend who had also, at one point, suffered from flashbacks of childhood sexual violence.  She assured me it would get better, and the memories would become like “watching a tv, rather than re-living it.”

I believed her.  And I think it’s because I believed her that it worked.  The relentless flashbacks dimmed in severity, then frequency, and then stopped.

But I knew they were still there, encased in Tupperware in the refrigerator of my brain – and cleaning this fridge out was a chore I hoped to postpone indefinitely.

So when I nodded in understanding and consent to Kurt, acknowledging that I am finally ready to examine the contents of those secret boxes, I anticipated a huge emotional purge.

I was surprised.  The process was almost academic.

Kurt was, well pretty damn genius.  And heroic too, I have to say.  I felt like I was being rescued, in a way, except that I never felt like I was in danger.

There was one memory where I was a young woman, 14 or so, and I was fooling around with this boy I liked very much.  I enjoyed everything we did up to a point, where I began to feel a bit nervous and uncomfortable, but I liked this boy and so I didn’t speak up.  All this, “remembered” as though I was re-experiencing it in this girl’s body.

Then, there was a moment when I said “Stop!” and he didn’t, and I understood what was going to happen – when discomfort transformed into terror – and it that precise instant, Kurt pulled me out of the memory.  Back in my current body, back in my bedroom, sitting in meditation posture, Kurt holding my hands in front of me.

“Alright?” he inquires.  “Yes.”  And I was.  It felt like I’d just mistaken a ball of lint for a huge spider, and for just a moment my adrenaline peaked.  But then I realized it was just harmless lint.  I was relieved.  Unhurt.  I almost felt like Kurt had pulled me out too soon.  Wasn’t I supposed to feel more than that?

“Absolutely not.  I will not let you relive one more second of violence.  You have done enough.”  In rapid exchange of questions and answers, I understood that not some – ALL – of these memories belong to past lives.

That bit of information I didn’t fully integrate until I shared the story with Sweetie.  In the re-telling, I reached an epiphany – I actually have not been raped.  Not in this life and hopefully, knock on wood (ha) never again.  Then the tears came – tears of relief.

And how fucked up is that?  To be so damned relieved that I haven’t been raped THIS TIME.  That all of those memories belonged to other lives, other bodies entirely.  I felt a huge unburdening.  Nothing is wrong with me.  The memories are real (not delusional, not crazy) but they did not happen in this life (I do not have repressed trauma.)

How many times did this happen to me?  “48.”  Fourty-eight times.  Fourty-eight memories, all tangled up in a giant yarn-ball of trauma to be slowly, carefully, unraveled.

Kurt, George tells me, is a sort of specialist in healing this type of trauma.  I spent a few hours today learning just how much of a feminist Kurt Cobain was.

Here’s a video of Kurt in concert.

Of this video, Kurt showed me he could see this young woman in the mosh pit getting pressed up against the gate by this groper dude.  Generally you don’t mind your personal space in a mosh pit, but this guy was pressing up against her in a really invasive way, and tried to feel her up while she fought him off with her elbows, but she was trapped against the barrier and couldn’t get away.

Kurt sees this brewing and in the few moments he waited before intervening, he had hopes that the nearby OTHER GUYS would notice and do something about it.  But they didn’t, so he stopped the concert and dealt with the guy himself.

Today, I came upon this documentary – the rise and rise of Kurt Cobain.  The whole thing is worth watching if you’re interested, but I’m going to post the second part, and if you skip to 2 min 40 sec in, you’ll see what I mean.  Part of Nirvana’s mandate was to teach men not to rape.

(It’s late and I can’t figure out how to embed youtube videos, so screw it, you can click on the link.)

I think he was also teaching men how to respond when they see another man being a dick.  I think the band’s approach was brilliant.  “Yeah, we got a lot of practice,” Kurt says. “A lot of dickheads go to concerts just for the mosh pits.”

Intervene, embarrass, point, laugh.  I’ve used that approach myself when some dude tried to feel me up on a crowded public bus.  “EXCUSE ME, but did you get a good enough grope of my ass there buddy?”  Dude backed right off but protested it was accidental.  “I don’t see you pressing your dick against any of the guys.”

He got off at the next stop.  I shaken and angry.  And why hadn’t one of the dozens of people on board stepped forward to help me?  Not one person spoke up.  That’s part of the problem.

Kurt says, “When I was 13, I had this friend.  She was like, my best friend.  One night we were just talking and she just disintegrates and told me she’d been raped by this guy we both knew.  I was just in shock, I couldn’t believe someone would do that.  My friend was just destroyed, and she never recovered from that.  She started using and just self-destructed.  We weren’t ever as close after that either, because she didn’t trust males at all, and who could blame her.  I felt like a piece of shit for even being in a male body beside her.  Just getting too close to her made her cringe.

Gradually, as we grew up, I found out that more girls I knew had been hurt.  I eventually found out that every woman I cared about had been raped – every one.  And I understood why feminists were so angry.  They should be, and so I became a feminist.  I was fuckin’ pissed off that these macho, ignorant, self-interested meat-heads just take what they want in one moment and wreck someone’s whole life.”

Kurt, quiet, calm, sincere:  “I want you to know that I am going to keep you safe. ”

Even so, I find myself procrastinating about tonight’s meditation.  So here I am, writing a blog entry when it’s almost midnight and I have to be awake in five hours.

This whole thing is so surreal.  It’s trauma, it’s actual memories with a real, accumulated affect upon my physical, emotional, psychic and spiritual health.  It’s necessary and I welcome this healing.  Even though I know it won’t hurt, I understand it will take time.  Kurt is very careful, and these are not memories to be purged en-masse, like I experienced with George.

“We have a lot of time,” Kurt (re)assures me.  “There’s no way to rush through this, we just take it one at a time.”  All fourty-eight.  One at a time.

So if I don’t blog for a while, you’ll know what I’m doing.  I decided to post this entry, on the off chance, just in case, I’m not the only one haunted by past life sexual violence.  Maybe I’m not the only one.


Here’s some other Kurt / Nirvana feminist findings I wanted to share, but couldn’t work into this entry.   watch this video of Kathleen Hannah and her story of Kurt, feminism, vandalism and Smells Like Teen Spirit:

a great article on Nirvana’s “secret” feminism

A link to a webpage of Kurt’s art

An example: (I particularly enjoy how he wrote in “fart” behind this guy in the first frame)

John Lennon Friday: The Next Step

So I have recently gotten my paws upon Lynn Grabhorn’s book “Planet Two.”  I found it in the spirituality section of a hugely magnificent second-hand bookstore, right next to Machaelle Small Wright’s “Behaving as if the God in all things mattered” – which is a book that’s been on my list for a long time.  It’s often referred to in the “first generation” of animal communication books written by Sonya Fitzpatrick and Penelope Smith.

Well right off, Lynn starts to talk a lot about Machaelle, which tickled me that I bought both books together.  Actually, I heard John’s little whisper “Oh, get those two, they’re good.”

There’s a gentle, cosmic good humour in that John Lennon himself is mentioned more than any other person in Planet Two (except Machaelle, perhaps.)  It’s so funny that John guides me to what I’m calling “his books”.  Not only is John mentioned particularly, but the first mention is Lynn talking about the book that John wrote himself via medium Jason Leen “Peace At Last”.

Notice how close in name they are?  Jason Leen and Linda Keen?  Huh.

“Peace at Last” is a book I haven’t read yet, but Lynn uses it as a perfect example of death experience, how John describes his death in that book. 

Later in “Planet Two” Lynn starts talking about things that John has brought up to us directly, and really, Kurt has shown us as well.  Lynn talks about three “earths” existing in the same space (more or less) on different frequencies.  Well that’s another way of explaining what Kurt showed us in the angel training entry:  three beads on a string, now turn the string and see how three beads overlap and look like one.

It actually occurs to me that this “angel training” as I’ve been calling it, could also be another way describing this energetic ascension people are talking about so much in these 2012 days.

John has also talked about the “White Brotherhood”, which he is either in or working with very closely.  We asked about whether there was a sisterhood and he said, “Of course!” and shared a lot of details about that, which, I can’t remember because I was in “medium mode”.  Thank goodness for sweetie, here’s her recollection:

Well, that the White Sisterhood is a parallel to the White Brotherhood (apparently the girls can get boisterous, like at the Women’s Temple 😉 )

Emily and Meret Oppenheim I *think* are in it, and Benazir Bhutto.  There was a woman with a viking helmet (maybe a Norse goddess?) and a fighter pilot who may or may not have been Amelia Earhart.  They’re my council, essentially.  The women’s council.  They’re basically one and the same.

From the daytrippin’ website’s description of John’s “Peace at Last”: 

After explaining the seven different heavenly realms, she explains that since John was such a powerful spokesman for the world, he is being asked to continue his work with humanity. She assures him that the world will listen. He learns that the earth is about to awaken, but that first, humanity must awaken and arise. He will be one of the spirit beings to interact with people on earth to get this message across.

Which is basically the message in Planet Two, and basically the message we’ve been getting from John from my first conversation with him in November 2011.  (And BY THE WAY!  I just noticed the “7 different levels of heavenly realms” again – which would be the third psychic who’s heard from John that there are 7 levels to heaven.)

I’ll tell you some of the strangeness that’s settled into my heart as truth:  I believe I’ve been tapped to help people with the transition that’s happening.  This transition definitely involved raising our vibrations, and a part of this is becoming more psychic.  Everyone.  And in order for people to become more psychic, more comfortable with psychicness, to be healthy and psychic in this world as we all struggle with “ascension” (raising our vibes, evolving, remembering who we are etc.) we need teachers.  Me.  I’m one of them.

Since I started talking to John, George and Kurt, I’ve put my complete trust in them, and they have not and will never lead me wrong.  Aside from these friends, I have my own spirit guides and relatives, who are all milling about in the background, but I don’t seem to converse with them as much as I do John, George & Kurt.  They got me to the concert at the Humanity gallery, thanks to which I made the contacts I needed in order to work in that space.  Last weekend was the second “psychic Saturday” where I give free readings to those who need it.  Every. Single. Person. Who showed up on Saturday.  Is struggling with psychic awakening.  Every. Single. One. 

All of them cried when I told them they’re already psychic.  Already doing it.  There are things they can learn which will make it easier and better. 

Most of them carry with them burdens from past life trauma, and burdens from childhood which put them in conflict with their psychic abilities and experiences right now.

Just in time, I’m launching my first class, “Reconnecting with your Intuition”.  Every time I reach out my hand, asking for help with this mission Heaven is offering to me, every. Single. Time. The person I’ve reached out to has taken my hand in friendship.

Dear, dear Linda Keen has offered her full support and blessing for me to teach the lessons in her books, Intuition Magic and the soon to be published sequel, Intuition Magic: 25 Years Later. (Linda, I hope I’m not spilling the beans on that one.)  If you’re in self-study mode, you can get her books from

I tell you, the first email reply I received from Linda jerked the tears straight out of my eyes, and I had no idea why.  It’s just one of those physiological, gut-wrenching reactions you have when your body is telling you something is true, correct, right. 

The story of how and why I contacted Linda is pretty neat:  I didn’t contact her over the “john thing”.  I figured she must have had hundreds of people contact her since the book was published to say that they’d been talking to john too, and that most of them would be crazy.  I don’t know why I went there, but that’s what was going through my mind at the time.

I contacted Linda because *I* had been contacted by a spirit visitor, an older, classy, dignified lady with a warm heart.  I thought her name was “Madeline” but I have a difficult time hearing these things correctly, so it could have been something close to how that would sound if heard over a muffled microphone, or shouted over a great distance. 

Anyway, Madeline shows up in my living room one night, and I’m very tired, so I ask her to please go away and come back tomorrow if she would like to talk with me.  She showed up again, very politely, and waited until we had finished with talking to John before I could greet her.

Madeline explained that she’d come for help because she used to be able to talk to her grandchildren (picture of grandkids pointing up at grandma and playing with her ethereal presence.)  But now her grandchildren are older and no longer see her.  (Sad feelings shared.)  They need the psychic school I’ve been thinking about.  I should contact “the woman who wrote John’s book”.  So I promised I would, and I sent Linda Keen an email out of the blue.

That was probably one of the stranger emails I’ve sent in my lifetime.  It basically went, “Hi, you don’t know me but a spirit named Madeline said I should contact you about a psychic school.”  It turns out that Linda had developed her own psychic skills by attending a school in Oregon (did I get that right?) in the 60s.  She then moved to the Netherlands where she and her husband established a school for intuitive development that is still running today.

I had NO IDEA Linda had written any books other than Across The Universe / John Lennon in Heaven. 

So yeah, Linda knows how to teach what I’m teaching, and she’s been doing this for years.  She was the perfect person to contact about all of this.  It did come up pretty quickly that my sweetie and I have been talking to John too, and we’re beginning to realize how much all of these strings are getting tied together, and how much is John is doing the actual tying!  I am so grateful for Linda and John’s help in all of this. 

In Linda, I feel like I have the experienced support I need in order to muster the audacity to teach psychic arts at the tender young age of 33.  I mean, come on.  Isn’t this the sort of thing you teach as a dusty, wrinkled, half-mad oracle who has one foot in heaven?   I’ve barely come out as psychic in the community and now I’m teaching?  But I swear, that’s the way Heaven wants it.  It’s pretty darn clear to me, and I feel so taken care of right now.

On June 12th, I’ll be a guest on Karen Hagar’s radio show, “Out of the Fog”.  I’ll be talking about animal communication among other things, and doing animal readings on the air.  We’re all hoping that this show will result in a few more paying clients for me, which will help in a multitude of ways. 

I initially contacted Karen Hagar before I’d received a reply from Linda.  I was casting around for a teacher, and I’d asked Karen if she’d be interested in allowing me to listen in on her classes in exchange for some animal communication?  She got me on the phone and told me she hadn’t been “guided” to teach me because I am beyond her scope of teaching.  (Holy crap.)  She then told me I’d be a great radio guest, based upon our conversation, and she invited me on the show!  She said that doing on-air readings could help with the cash flow shortages we’re experiencing right now.  I feel Karen’s warmth and positive attitude whenever I think of her.

Yesterday, John came to visit me at work.  He said “So love, are you ready to go to the next level of work?” 

“Uh, sure.  Yes.  What’s the next level?”

“Well you will soon be done with the hospital work.  You’ve done what you needed to do here.  A lovely job you did with those two, by the way.  (Two spirits I’d crossed over yesterday.)

“Soon you will be travelling a lot.  Are you ready for that?”

“Yes.  I need Heaven and you guys to take care of my finances though.  I need enough money to pay for our rent, our food.  I’ll need a better car soon, especially if I’m travelling more.  You take care of the money, I’ll do Heaven’s work.  I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?”


“You’re positive?”  He smiles, the warmest, loving smile.  At this point I see him clearly in a purple embroidered jacket, like a smoking jacket but snazzier.  It looks like it has long tails.  He has sort of 80s hair, a la David Bowie, dark, shortish, kind of spikey.  He’s wearing his round, rose-coloured glasses. 

“Yes.  Do it.  I’m ready.”

So off we go then.  I’m not sure exactly what it is that I’ve agreed to, but I trust John, I trust Heaven to take care of Sweetie, me and my animal family.

It shouldn’t surprise me anymore.

Sweetie found this beautiful website of a lady named Elisa, who channels her son Erik.  She and Erik had a couple of conversations with:

Want to guess?

Kurt Cobain.

I think this is the first synchronicity that hasn’t thrilled me, probably because most of the confirmation comes from the details around Kurt’s death.

That Courtney was leaving him for someone else, someone close to them.  That his suicide was a “fuck you”.  That he was incredibly spiritual while he was alive (which wasn’t really known about him, or the subtelties of his songs was lost upon our uber-sarcastic generation.)  That he incarnated as Kurt to experience the deepest sorrow (my understanding of this is it was a needed experience in order for Kurt to progress with his angel training.)

That he swears a lot.  A LOT. 

That he still feels defensive sometimes, or at least he re-dons that persona when he’s talking as Kurt.  There’s this sense that he trusts you if he’s talking to you.

Thanks for sharing that, Elisa.  I really appreciate it.

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.

Another Musician Friday


Today, a local art gallery is opening a “Humanities” community art show.  People are invited to come, share their art, the theme being humanity. 

George asked me to go and sing the song he gave to me.  Oh yeah, I picked up the ukulele maybe a month ago, and I’m performing a song in public.  Well, we’ll see how that pans out.  I’m happy to do it, of course.  I hope I can do the song justice.

Last week I found reference to another psychic blogger who spends a lot of time talking to famous people on the other side.  It was really cool reading her blog and seeing some synchronicities with some things I’d heard too (the entry on Jim Morrison’s sweetie confirmed for me that this blogger seems like “the real thing”).

There’s an entry on Kurt Cobain, and I found it because John Lennon is mentioned in it, though briefly – that Kurt met John, and it “wasn’t what he expected”.

So I asked John, “What was he expecting?”

“He was expecting a guy who had it all figured out.  Instead, he got me.”

Sweetie has been moving through an existential crisis in the past weeks, a lot of emotion is involved.  Where I have never really been a big music fan (I have difficulty with names and bands, and I can’t tolerate loud sounds or very complex sounds like organ music or punk rock.)  Sweetie, though, is a true rocker, and when Kurt Cobain died, it broke her heart. 

One thing that’s been coming up consistently in her spiritual discussions with her guides and teachers is working through her cynicism, her sense of “What’s the point? Why work for a better world when we’re on our way out, anyway?”  It’s a heavy creative block she’s been wrestling with, and yet she has to work through it before it can be left behind. 

The past few days, when I return home from work, I often find Sweetie has been working through this on her own with her spiritual company.  Despite how painful the process can be for her, she’s getting more and more psychic every week. 

Last night she said, “I kind of had it out with Kurt yesterday.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I sort of yelled at him.  I was crying, and said Of COURSE I’m cynical – my hero killed himself!”

I didn’t know Kurt Cobain was a hero of my sweetie’s. 

Last night, we watched a video of Nirvanna’s “unplugged” concert at MTV.  He recommended the unplugged version so I could actually listen to it.  Over the course on an hour, I was drawn deeper into Kurt’s experience at this time, and he explained to me, and Sweetie, the intense depression he was enduring.  I recognized the stillness with which he’d hold himself – when you’re in that much emotional pain, even certain movements hurt. 

He was wearing a fuzzy green cardigan – there was some connection with Courtney and with a grandfather there.  He was feeling vulnerable at the time, and the fuzzy green sweater helped him feel protected.  Buffered. 

As the Kurt in the video sang a song, the Kurt in spirit would send me the images and feelings he was experiencing at the time.  This one song, “Drinking pennyroyal tea, still the life inside of me,” there was such a spike of despair.  I asked him how much longer he’d lived after that concert and got about a year and a half.  So much of his life was an endurance run, a brutal exercise and experiment to see just how much emotional pain one human being could live with.

At this point, Kurt shared with me a small part of the painful sadness he’d experienced.  In the past, whenever a spirit has shared emotion with me, it’s something I can allow to run through my body.  My eyes may be watering, but I’m remembering to breathe, to move it through my body.  Kurt gently held my body and created a ball of emotional pain that would not run out my feet, but built and built until I said “Stop.”

Having coped with serious depression in the 90s myself, this is a feeling I know well.  He was suicidal for a long time.  “No one cared,” I heard him say.  “If I died, there’d just be more records sold.”

This is the second time I experienced psychic exhaustion.  My stomach shook inside my belly and I had a good cry myself.  In the end, Sweetie made hot chocolate for everyone.  It made us all feel better.

Sweetie in has particularly been enjoying talking with Kurt, and it’s interesting the slight difference in communication between Kurt and John.  John never really *got* sarcasm for a while there.  There’s a cynicism and a culture referenced in 90s-style sarcasm that didn’t exist when John was alive.  Kurt loved the idea of Napster “Yeah, because I really give a shit if the record companies get their cut.  Fuck that.  After an artist dies, all of his work should be free.”  I realized this was the first time I’d heard a sarcastic statement from a spirit. 

In response to Sweetie’s despairing remark, “Why create art?” he responded, gently, “Because art endures.” 

“But art doesn’t endure.  People destroy it.  They burn libraries and tear down sacred temples.  They kill each other, why should I create something that’s just going to be destroyed?”

“Because it will endure for a while.  That’s the point.”

Today she sent me this email:


Hey, I know you’re planning a Kurt entry, so I wanted to say something else.

I woke up feeling really sad last night, I had some crying to process.

Yesterday I realized how happy I was to have him around, and I realized that it was because I actually *really* missed him.  And then I felt this huge sense of loss.  And then anger, because the loss felt so unnecessary. 

And at the time I couldn’t reconcile my hero being dead, so either he was not dead, or he was not my hero.  I think I went from one to the other: a) he’s not dead, it’s a media hoax, you’ve all been had, I’m not crying over this shit, crying is for suckers.  And then b) well maybe he never asked to be a hero anyway, maybe I and everyone else just put that on him, hero worship is for weak minds, you need to be your own hero.

So I felt sad, cried a bit, thought about Hey Jude:
“For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder”
I know exactly what that means.  I tried to allow some of the crunchy layers around my heart to dissolve.

I went to sleep, and I woke up with Chicago’s “If You Leave Me Now” in my head this morning:

I’m like, “…Kurt?”
He laughs.

(When I was talking to him about my Existential Crisis the other day he sang Kansas’ “Dust in the Wind” to me — badly.  I’ve come to recognize it as a signature of his, using cheesy 70s AM radio ballads to dissolve tension).

“If You Leave Me Now” is, on the one hand a song about asking for forgiveness, but on the other hand, in context somewhat dark — a *slightly* cruel song to sing to someone in mourning.  So I had to laugh.

He stretched out beside me on his side with his head propped up on his hand:  “Forgive me?”

I nod.  “I’m working on it”.


We love you, Kurt.