Ghost Hunting Part Two – The Ghost That Followed Us Home

The tour guide was only half kidding when she said “We aren’t responsible if any of the ghosts follow you home.”  It brought back memories of The Haunted Mansion at Disneyland.  I could almost hear the sonorous tones of the heavy male narrator’s voice from the ghostly Disney ride override the tour guide uttering the same phrase.  She added cheerily, “but if they do, please call us, we’d love to come investigate!”

No need, the ghostly lady in the back seat wasn’t the first to hitch a ride with us, and I’m sure she won’t be the last.  I can see and talk to the dead, and help them cross the veil to the other side if they are earthbound.  Hub and I were almost home when she made her presence known.  Thin, willowy, but too heavily scarred by sorrow to be called beautiful, the dead lady kept looking longingly at my husband from where she perched behind him in the car.  “My husband?  Where is my husband, and my baby?”  She asked repeatedly.  She was confused, didn’t understand how she was suddenly in this strange carriage, didn’t completely understand she was dead, and far out of her own time.

It took a little effort to get her attention, she was fixated on Hub, mistaking him for her long dead husband.  I reached out, snapping my fingers in front of her face and calling sharply to her.  When I got her to finally look at and respond to me, I got her story in an instant.  Husband and baby both sickened and died.  She wasn’t sure of what, just showed them to me as feverish and coughing.  She answered “Marie” when I asked her name, but kept reaching toward Hub with her insubstantial hands.  Her pain was a tangible presence in the car, she’d died of a broken heart.

“He’s not your husband.  He’s mine.  Your husband and baby are dead, and you are too.”  She turned big, pale eyes to me, uncomprehending.  “You are dead.  You’re a ghost, stuck here on the earthplane.”  I told her.  By this time we had arrived home.  Hub got out of the car, leaving me alone in it after he parked it in the garage.  Just me and the ghost.  Outside the car door, my chickens began to stir and cluck uneasily in their darkened henhouse.  It felt dark and heavy in the garage, as if the lights weren’t bright enough.

“I miss them so.”  She whispered.  “Why can’t I find them?  How did I get here?”  She was full of questions.  I don’t know how other mediums communicate with spirits, but I find it easier and truer if I stick to emotions and images with minimal words.  I show them what I mean.  So you’ll have to forgive me for translating some of those images, emotions and thoughts into sentences.  It makes an easier read and description of something that is sometimes difficult to transpose into words.

I also work very closely with my guides and guardian spirits.  I ask them to come close and aid the spirits I work with, easing their transition across the veil to home.  There in my garage, sitting in my car, I called in my guides and asked them to help locate this woman’s loved ones on the other side.  Marie continued to stare around the car and darkened garage, she was starting to get frightened and tune me out.  “Where did the man go?  Is that my husband?”  She continued to fixate on Hub.

“Hey, Marie.  I need you to listen to me for just a moment.”

“No.”  Indignant.  She didn’t want to listen to some random woman, she wanted to find her family.  I could understand that, but she wasn’t going to find them at my house.  “Why should I listen to you?”  Disbelief, scorn.  She sneered.

“I can try to help you find them, Marie.”  Again she turned those big, pale eyes on me.  Anger showed in them.  “You don’t know my husband.  I don’t know you.  Where am I?”  She was starting to get agitated, the atmosphere in the car darkened more, and it was hard to see out the windows.

When the spirits get upset, the only answer to their fear or anger is love.  I powered up my heart chakra, and offered her pure spiritual love.  I showed her I held only compassion for her and real desire to help.  “I want to help you, I want to try, and my guides want to help you too.”  Her expression of anger slowly melted, as she took in that I meant what I said, and that I wasn’t affected by her anger.

In Reiki II, my class learned a technique called the Bridge of Light.  It is a spiritual energy bridge offered to one who is about to die, or to spirits who have not yet crossed over.  For the dead, and the dying it eases their transition, and connects them with loved ones already on the other side of the veil.  I showed Marie the bridge, and offered the energy to her.  I offered her additional Reiki energy to help her heal her psychic wounds, and to help her retrieve the parts of her soul that she’d lost along the way.

Anger and mistrust dissolved.  “Truly?”  She was afraid to hope.

“Yes.”  I told her.  “And my guides mean it too.”  Marie touched the Bridge of Light with one foot, and her whole being lit up.  She took two steps, and smiled tentatively.  Her lips stretched wider as she followed the path laid out on the Bridge, aided by her own guiding spirits who met her and welcomed her before she’d traveled halfway across.  Her spirit lit brightly as the missing parts of her soul flew home to join her as she fully crossed the veil.

With an nearly audible pop, the atmosphere in the garage lightened.  It had a bright and sparkly feel, and the hens uttered soft coos as they settled back into sleep.  Marie blew me a light kiss and a thank-you as she joined her family on the other side.  I smiled and got out of the car.

“Everything okay?”  Hub asked as he threw the ball for our Lab to chase.  It glows in the dark, so she can find it at night.  I took a deep breath and looked around our yard, then back into the garage.  No ghosts.

“Everything’s just fine.”  I told him.

I’m pretty sure Marie was hiding in this room on the tour.

 

Weird Weekend – Modern Ghost Hunting Part One

Hub and I went on a Ghost Tour last weekend.  I love that sort of thing, and his daughter gave us a gift certificate for the tour for Christmas.  We were lucky it wasn’t raining, but cold and foggy, which gave the perfect atmosphere.

Just the history part made the tour worthwhile, but we made multiple stops at various famous downtown Seattle landmarks.  Like the Smith Tower.

Security guards tell of hearing furniture being dragged across floors above them, even in rooms where there is no furniture.  Shadows are seen flitting across monitor screens, security cameras catching movement on supposedly unoccupied floors.  In both cases, when the guards investigate, no one is on the floor.

We went into the lower level of the Merchant’s Cafe, the oldest restaurant in Seattle.  I immediately felt the presence of many spirits, especially in the bar area and the bathroom.  I saw a lady, dressed in vintage clothing stroll down the hall to disappear into the bathroom.  I followed, snapping pictures, then returned to hear the tour guide saying how a woman is often seen going into the bathroom.  I wanted to say, ‘Yes, I know’ but kept quiet.  The bathroom pics were not that impressive, although a faint orb is visible in one.  I had better luck with the bar.  I got a few funny looks from others on the tour, but I whispered to the spirits that I knew they were there, and I was going to take some pictures.  If they would like to appear in the pictures, that would be much appreciated.   I took two pictures with nothing, then got this one.

I know. Dust motes, it’s the quickest and easiest explanation.  Hub cleaned the lens thoroughly before we left for the tour, and it was closed unless I had it out taking pics.  I did get quite a lot of orb pictures, actually, and they are never in the exact same spot, so I’m quite sure it’s nothing on the lens itself.

I know.  It doesn’t preclude floating motes in the air.  With the three orbs in the picture above, I’m not 100% convinced they have a spectral origin.  These next two though, I’m pretty sure I captured the spirits who inhabit these portions of underground Seattle.

 

They are so bright and shiny, and I was actively communicating with the spirits in these locations at the time.  The only alteration I have made to these two pictures is to crop them to zoom in on the orbs.  The bar picture is completely untouched.

This was only my second time actively trying to communicate with spirits and capture it digitally.  I’ve had great luck so far and I’m looking forward to sharing them with you.  While nothing overt happened to Hub or I on the tour, I did make contact with several of the ghosts in the locations we visited.  Including the one that followed us home.  Stay tuned for that story!

My next time out, I’m going to try and capture some EVP’s.  What ever I get, I’ll be sure and share.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Weird Weekend – How Real Is The Paranormal?

It’s all just in your head.

You have a very active imagination.

You should pay attention to the real world and not a bunch of made up ‘stuff.’

I use the word ‘stuff’ here because the actual word involved male cattle and their end products.  I get that a lot of my interests are found on the fringes of normal.  I love a good conspiracy theory, and I read books that many would dismiss as pure fantasy.  I’ve been told everything above more times than I can count.  If you read back through my blog you’ll see that I’ve had plenty of encounters with the otherworldly.

When does a first-hand account matter, and when is it dismissed?  Is the only evidence necessary that which we see or feel?  Does something have to be measurable by current technology to be valid?

What happens when science starts to catch up to theory, or myth?

Have you heard of Michiu Kaku?  He is the co-founder of string theory which is said to bridge the gap between classical and quantum physics.  Dang, I sounded smart just there, didn’t I?  I’m not much of a physicist, so I rely on sites like this one to help me through.  Parts of string theory rely on the existence of other dimensions than the four we are used to; height, length, width and time.  I have to ask, if there can be extra dimensions, why couldn’t there be worlds, or intelligences that exist within them, just as we exist in the dimensions of the ‘real’ world?

Do you want to automatically say No?  Why?  Do you see the possibilities and also wonder?

What if our myths, legends and religious tales stemmed from breaks in those dimensional barriers, and those other beings crossing over?  What if some people here on Earth were able see through those dimensions, to the worlds beyond?

Have you seen a ghost?  What if tales of things such as demi-gods, werewolves, vampires, or other paranormal creatures like centaurs and dragons were glimpses into dimensions just next to ours?  Are people who report, and consider such things merely delusional?  Why have such stories persisted through the centuries?  Have you seen something you couldn’t explain, and didn’t report because you were afraid people would think you were crazy?  Will you share it with us here?  Were you peering through the walls that separate those dimensions we’ve not yet learned to measure?

Energetic Cleansing For Anyone

Do you ever feel just worn down?  Maybe it’s been a really stressful day, maybe you’ve been running around like your hair is on fire, chasing after kids or pets or errant employees.  Have you been sitting in a cubicle staring at a screen for hours on end?  It may be more than just physical or mental exertion wearing at you.

Is this how you feel at the end of the day?

As an energy worker and healer, I am especially sensitive to the emotional and energetic auras of the people surrounding me.  As a healthcare worker, and a natural empath, I feel an almost constant drag on my own energetic resources when I’m at my ‘day job’, and take extra steps to protect myself from being drained.  But by the end of the day, I usually find that I’m at a pretty low ebb, and it’s not entirely due to being on my feet for most of my work day.  I’ve developed a quick and easy energetic cleansing method to help remove any negative, or heavy energies that may be clinging to my own aura and energy field.

Negative energies?  What’s that mean?

Even if you don’t buy into the whole metaphysical and paranormal aspect of what I’m talking about, I’m sure you can all relate to these scenarios:

The co-worker who can suck all the life out of the room, just by walking into it; this person makes you cringe, internally at least, as soon you spot him because you know he’s going have something to complain about.  He’ll tell you how a work task went wrong and it’s not his fault, or just how generally terrible his life is.

The acquaintance who always has the disease du jour, and can’t wait to tell you every excruciating detail of her symptom progression.

That other acquaintance that dumps every emotional upheaval on you, cries on your shoulder, and is always in crisis.  But then has no time for you when you need to vent.

Have you ever noticed that after an encounter with one of these people, you suddenly feel less spring in your step?  That you feel, well, drained after being around them?  It’s not your imagination, they are sucking off your energy, and this is what’s making you feel so low.

The good news is, you can help yourself feel better, and you can do this very easily.  All you have to do is take a shower, something I’ll bet you do every day.

No need to stand under one of these, although it does feel amazing.

Really?  That’s all there is to it?

Not entirely.  For those not metaphysically minded, I’d be curious if you tried this experiment, and how it goes for you.  Stand in your running shower and still your mind.  If you need to hold some sort of image in your head, try for a clear running stream, or waves crashing on the beach, or you can just try for soothing blankness.  The idea is to still your mind, and halt the thousand odd thoughts jamming through it, just for a few moments.  If worries about paying the phone bill, or helping the kids with their homework intrude, just sort of gently push them away, and return to that stillness.  Take six deep breaths.  Try and imagine the air, packed full of relaxation, filling your lungs from bottom to top.  Count to four, slowly on each inhale, then exhale out for another count of four and imagine letting go of all your stress and tension.

Six slow breaths, while keeping your mind still and focusing on breathing calm in and stress out.  Does that really work?  Try it, and you tell me.  But if you want some science behind it to satisfy your left brain, then here it is:  Running water produces negative ions; a negative ion is an electrically charged particle, floating around in the air.  Natural settings, beaches, running streams, waterfalls are full to brimming with these negative ions, while indoor and city setting may have levels in just the hundreds or even zero.  Negative ions have been shown, in multiple studies, to have positive effects on human cognition and emotions.  When you breathe in during your shower, you breathe in these negative ions.  Once they hit your bloodstream they trigger the release of serotonin, the feel-good, mood elevating neurotransmitter.  Thank you, WebMD.  Now, you can go buy a fancy, spendy negative ion emitter, or use the free one you already have in your home shower.

An ideal negative ion generator

I’m going to move on to the metaphysical and paranormal aspects of energy cleansing now, so I’ll say goodbye to the strict left-brainers and thanks for stopping by!

A clean energy field leads to a happier, more balanced you!  We all know the energetic vampires of our acquaintance, and if you’re actively engaged in energy work, spiritual healing, mediumistic or other paranormal activity, keeping your aura clear is of paramount importance.  Bits of psychic detritus will be attracted to you and cling, just as you go about your daily life, even when you’re not doing psychic work.  Humans, both living and dead can and do attach lines to your energy field and will drain you.  Many spiritual traditions draw a direct linkage between energy drainage and physical sickness, so it is important to cleanse yourself of these energetic attachments to maintain your overall health.

Removing these attachments requires your focused intention.  It’s not enough to just jump in and rinse off, if you have significant attachments that have burrowed deeply into your aura or physical body then they will need a little boost to get them to release.  The other thing to remember is this; on some level you have given permission for this attachment to form, it could not attach otherwise.  This happens on a conscious as well as unconscious level.  When we share our feelings, when we empathize with another, when we give an ear to a friend, we help shoulder a little of their burden, we lighten their load temporarily, but we are not obligated to bear it indefinitely.  So while you do, on some level, give permission for attachments to form, you can also withdraw that permission, and that is key to energetic cleansing.

Focus your will and attention.

Before I begin my energetic cleanse, I take a moment to ground and center myself, and take the cleansing breaths I described above.  I bring my full attention into my body and aura, and let outside cares drop out of my mind; this moment is wholly for me and my health.  I take the time to reconnect with my body by focusing on every part, from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head; I let my attention ‘look’ at every part.  I also let myself feel every sore spot, ache and pain, relaxing the grip I have held on suppressing these sensations through the day.  I take full ownership of my body; it’s joys and pains.  Then I direct my attention outward to my aura; I’ll even put out my hands to feel it’s gentle curvature as it surrounds me, and feel for any rough spots.

Once I am fully connected to my body and aura, I then state my intention, I use this phrase:  “I completely remove from my being any and all attachments that do not contribute to my highest healing good.”  I hold this intention firmly in my head, and let the water cascade over me completely; ducking under the showerhead is a great idea, but you can also pass your hands over your head and face if you don’t want to get your hair wet.  I visualize the water removing every piece of heavy energy; everywhere the water goes it removes those attachments.  I hold this image, along with my intention for several breaths, imagining a curtain, or veil, travelling down from crown to feet, washing away that heavy energy.  You’ll feel it when that last bit washes away.

Next, if I sensed any gaps in my aura, I’ll seal and smooth those over with a little Reiki.  I like to hold one hand over my heart chakra and the other over the gap while I’m offering the Reiki.  I take a few last moments to visualize all the attachments being carried down the drain by the water, holding my intention of release until they disappear.  By the time I step out, I feel like a new woman!  Little aches and pains are usually swept away and I feel renewed and energized.

Remember these key points:

Hold that intention!  If your attention wanders and you begin to fret about the day you had, or the one still to come, you are not cleansing.  Refocus your attention back to yourself and repeat your intention:  release those attachments!

It may take some practice get the feel of holding your intention and focusing your attention.  Give yourself permission to make mistakes, this is how you learn; just remember to keep trying and it will get easier.

Breathe deeply!  Move that air and circulate those negative ions, get as many into your bloodstream as you can.

Take a moment to really feel yourself free of that heavy energy, notice how much better, how much lighter you feel.  When you step out, clear your mind and ‘check in’ with your body and your aura, feel it completely whole and shining.  Tell yourself this is your body’s natural state!

I find that this exercise, used daily, highly beneficial.  My psychic senses are clearer and my stress levels greatly reduced.  If I’ve had a hard day on the job, and just want to turn in to a slug, this cleansing will restore me.  But don’t take it from me, try it yourself; I’d really love to hear how it works for you.  Drop me a note and tell me how you felt before and after.  Try it for a few days, then hold off for a few, and see if you notice a difference.

Waves and beaches are natural energizers

Get Back UP

 

I wrote about inspiration a week ago, and boy did I need to find some.  I don’t normally like to say this, but it’s been a bad couple weeks.  Everything’s relative I guess, no one died, I didn’t find out someone’s deathly ill, but everything just went to blah.  The weather was dreary and wet, and I was hurting on multiple levels.  Even my favorite songs couldn’t lift me up; I needed to dig deeper.

 

It started with slamming my hand in the car door.  BAM!  Great, now I can’t write.  So while blog posts, and plot twists and new stories swirled and jumbled in my head, I couldn’t get them out.  Frustrating!  The pre-holiday rush at work slowed after the New Year started, and then a massive snowstorm took even more hours away from the paycheck that covers the mortgage.  That’s why there’s a savings account, right?  But it still makes me sweat.

 

Friday, February 3^rd would have been Dad’s 79^th birthday.  He died on May 1^st 2010 after a long, slow and painful slide downward.  It was the kind of disease progression that makes you long for the person to die and end the suffering.  And then you feel like a horrible daughter.  You might think that being a mediumistic psychopomp, and able to talk to the dead would give some relief from the grief and sense of loss that his absence makes, but no, it doesn’t.  Even though I know that Dad’s spirit is alive and well, I miss being able to hug him, and hear his voice.  I broke down again last night, while Hub held me close; the void that was Dad’s place in this world still hurting because I couldn’t call and wish him Happy Birthday.

 

It gets better, it gets easier, but sometimes, I just have to cry it out.

 

Then, a miracle happened.

 

I was starting to seriously consider seeing a doctor to fix my hand.  A hard lump that ice and ibuprofen had no effect on, pain, and that whole not able to write thing, had me on the edge of freaking out.  Oh my god!  What if I can’t write anymore?  Yeah, I know, hyperbole, but when you’re having this conversation inside your head, things always seem horribly final.  When I poked and prodded at my hand, testing range of motion and pain, I thought it possible I’d dislocated something, but wanted to give it a little more time.

 

Enter my friend K.  K is a powerful woman in all respects, a businesswoman, singer extraordinaire, and amazing friend.  She grabs my hand, all unknowing of my injury, and squeezes, doubling me over.

 

“Oh my god, what’s wrong, what did I do?”  She was instantly concerned, so I told her what had happened and tried to reassure her.  “You didn’t know; it’s okay.”  I said while trying to calm the waves of pain flowing up my arm.

 

“No, no, no!”  She was insistent.  “I do that!  Why do I always do that?  I seem to have this sense that knows wherever someone is hurt and I grab it.  Why is that?”

 

“You’re a healer, so you’re drawn to where people hurt.”  The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them.  K was pleased, like the concept hadn’t occurred to her before.  “Do you really think so?”  I nodded, shaking and flexing my hand, which was no longer throbbing, and we moved on to other topics.

 

Later that night, I ran my thumb over my injury and did not feel the large lump that had been there.  Really?  It can’t be that easy.  It was.  The lump was negligible, the pain almost nonexistent, and…I could write again!  I had to tell K she had fixed my hand, and she was thrilled.  Hmmm.  Will have to check and see if she’d like a Reiki I attunement…

 

These weeks have been a great reminder that life is a rollercoaster, not a flat track.  Exhilarating, funny, and wonderful, but also scary, sad and painful.  I had to remind myself that when the coaster takes you down on a plunge, there will be an upswing on the other side.  But you may have to get up and go looking for it.  Don’t try and deny or repress the sad, it will only eat you up from the inside.  Get it out, let it go, however or whatever that process is for you, and you’ll find the courage to pick up and keep going.  Remember also to be kind to yourself.  There is no time limit on grieving or healing, it is it’s own process, and it’s yours alone.  Take it, own it, and learn from it.

 

Today is a beautiful sunny day.  I’m writing, I have my home, my family, and life is good.  I hope that you are all doing well.  Drop me a line and tell me about it!

 

Pictures taken by and under copyright to me.  Please ask permission before use.  Thank you!

Helping Spirits Get Home

Sunny's favorite place

I’ve always been in contact with ‘the other side.’  To varying degrees, true, but the ability to perceive it has always been there.  I had never heard the term ‘psychopomp’ until just a few years ago, while taking my Reiki II class.  It was then that I also found out that I am a psychopomp, although I can’t say I was surprised.  Every place I’ve lived, and most of my workplaces have had resident spirits, and during my time there, that resident spirit has moved on.

Ghosts like me; several have told me they’re ‘drawn to’ me.  My friend and teacher explained it like this:  being a psychopomp means there’s something in my energy signature, or aura, that is a big bright shiny beacon to spirits.  I’m easy for them to ‘see’ both earthbound spirits, and those on ‘the other side.’  I work very closely with my Guides, who have taught me how to use this shininess to help those who are stuck here.

I’d never been to my friend’s apartment, and as soon as I walked in my skin started to crawl.  It’s a tactile sensation that brushes across my shoulders and arms, even my face; depending on the spirit’s energy this can be pleasant, painful, ticklish…it varies.  This time, it felt prickly, warm and angry.  My shoulders tensed and I felt a tingling line trace up and down my neck.  This place did not have a happy feel.

“How long have you lived here?”  I’m sure my tone came out sarcastic and critical, because I was thinking she’d been there too long already, an emotion that was coming through from the spirits I was sensing.  We’d already talked about paranormal subjects, and I knew she was open to them so I didn’t hesitate.

“You know there’s at least one spirit here, right now?  Have you been having any problems?”  She was taken aback by my directness,  “Well, yes!”  She sounded both relieved and exasperated.  I asked if I could walk around and get a feel for the place.  The bedroom was a windowless corner in the basement apartment, and the fulminating presence made the room even darker.  Passing my hand in front of the doorway was like touching a wind made of deep anger.  Oh, she is pissed, I thought.  Out loud though, I told my friend,  “It’s in here, she’s in here.”  Still standing in the living room my friend only nodded and then told me, “I can’t sleep in that room, I can’t hardly stand to be in it, it just gives me the creeps!”

“Really?”  But I knew she was telling the truth, the bed was piled with clothes and boxes.  “So, you sleep, where?”  I asked.  “The couch.”  She waved her arms at the large, comfy looking black leather loungers.   “Look, we’ve gotta go, or we’re going to be late.”  The spirits were amping up their energy in response to my psychic poking around, and neither one was happy.  It spilled over onto my friend and she was anxious for us to get out.  It was a few weeks later that she asked me to come over and see if I could do anything.

There were two spirits sharing the apartment with my friend, and they were not getting along at all.  One was attached to my friend, something she addressed in the ensuing weeks, but the other was attached to the residence.  This resident spirit was a woman in her 40’s who showed me images of the sun, and beaches, when she finally calmed down.

But right now, these two were like feuding roommates, and my friend was caught in the middle.  She was practically vibrating in response to the tension being generated between the two spirits.  The spirit attached to my friend was primarily concerned that I would try to separate him from my friend; he was very protective.  I reassured him and asked him to move back and away, then I turned to the other one; at that time all I could determine was that the spirit was female.

She was in the doorway of the bedroom, wailing and complaining.  “This is my place!  He can’t push me around like that!  He is all over, telling me what to do, and this is my place!  My room!  I can’t even keep him out of my room!”  I let her go on for a few minutes, tried to get her to calm down and couldn’t.  She did not want to listen, just wanted to make everyone else around her pay for her misery.  So I separated them.

I made it clear that either could chose to move on at any time, I showed them the veil and invited them to cross.  But when both quite rudely refused, I told the woman,  “You cannot continue to fight, here, and upset my friend.  So for now, go to your room and stay there.”  My friend had some sea salt, so I sprinkled a line across the doorway to the bedroom and told the woman.  “Stay in there, or cross the veil.  It’s your choice, but stop fighting with the other guy.”  I was equally firm with the male spirit, he could move on, or remain near my friend, but he could no longer antagonize the female spirit.  The sea salt would keep him away from her as much as it would keep her in.

I knew though, it was only a temporary fix, and that the salt wouldn’t hold them forever.  I didn’t intend for it to.  I told my friend I’d come back soon and we’d all have a longer chat.  Sure enough, she reported a few quiet nights.  When things started back up, they weren’t quite as angry, but both were definitely still present and generating intense emotions.

I went back, and walked into my friend’s unused bedroom.

“You were really rude!”  The woman, who called herself Sunny, complained as soon as I sat down on the bed.  I’m not sure if Sunny was really her name, or just her favorite thing, because a big, warm sun always accompanied images of her.  “You threw salt at me!  Rude!”  She was right.  I don’t like pushing spirits around, but I’d been short on time; they’re still people and deserve to be treated with respect.  I focused on slowing down and giving Sunny my full attention.  “You weren’t exactly listening to me, or helping the situation, but you’re right, it was rude and I am sorry.  I really am here to help.”  I told her, while I looked around my friend’s bedroom, it was dark, and the air felt tight and hard to breathe.  Sunny’s presence swirled around me, and my skin and face tingled.  She was angry still, but at least now she was willing to talk.

“Help, how?  Why?  I was happy, lying on the beach…” Sunny filled my head with warm golden days, and I saw her as she last remembered herself.  She had curling gold hair shot with grey, and the slightly leathery, perma-tanned skin of a woman who has spent a lot of time in the sun.  She saw herself lying on a towel, gazing out across the water; an older, but still trim bikini-clad body lay with toes pointing toward the shore.  I heard the music she was listening to; a crackly radio played the Beach Boys, Led Zepplin and Boston, and I felt the heat of the sun as it hung low in the sky, sinking into the west.  Sunny spoke again.  “Then she moved in, and he’s here, and everything’s gone to shit!  Why’d he have to harsh my high?  I just want to lay here in the sun.”  She drifted a little, losing herself in her memories of life.

I reminded Sunny that she was dead, and she snapped back.  “Yeah, I know!  This is it, I’m stuck here in this apartment.”  She was bound to this place for some reason, and so spent her time lost in her happier memories, until jarred out of them.  She was constantly disturbed by my friend’s male spirit, and so made her displeasure well known, because it kept her from her dreams of life and the beach.

“You do not have to stay here, Sunny.  You can move on, go home.”  Sunny just scoffed.  “What, go to heaven?”  She rolled her eyes.  “Right!  Just leave me alone, let me go back to the beach.”  She drifted around the room, retreated into the back of the closet and sulked.

Sometimes, they need to be shown; they don’t know there is a home to go to.  I asked my Guides to bring the veil in closer.  But where is home?  What is the veil?  I don’t know, really I don’t.  They are convenient terms and labels I use to describe places and states that are difficult to put into words.  As I have experienced it, ‘home’ is the place where we reconnect with Spirit, capital ‘S’ Spirit, the Big One.  Heaven, Valhalla, ‘the other side’, ‘into the light’ take your pick, I use ‘going home.’  The veil is what separates ‘home’ from ‘here.’  I see it as a large, shimmery wall that feels soft, like fur or cashmere and kind of tingles when I touch it.  When I ask my Guides to bring the veil in closer it makes the veil more apparent.  I don’t know what the physics of it might be, but it makes the veil and what’s beyond it more discernible, to me and to the spirit I’m talking with.

When the veil appeared, Sunny focused her attention on it.  “What is that?”  Her emotions were a blend of fear and awe.  It was beautiful, but she didn’t know what to expect from it.  I did my best to show her, that she could cross the veil, go home, and she would no longer be stuck here.  “You can lay on the beach forever if you want, and never be disturbed again.”  I told her.  She only scoffed, and retreated further into the closet, more fearful now than interested in the veil.  She turned her attention away from me, sinking back into her summer dreams.  I asked my Guides to see if they could find any of Sunny’s loved ones who were in spirit, or her Guides, and reconnect them with Sunny.  At that time, they could not, she’d been disconnected and lost in her memories for so long my Guides could not immediately locate Sunny’s Guides.

“Here’s the deal Sunny, you can do whatever you want.  Go home, or stay in this closet, it’s your choice.  Take your time to think about it, and I’ll have a chat with the male spirit, and ask him to leave you alone.  You’ve been here so long, you don’t know if you want to move along, that’s okay.  If you change your mind about crossing the veil, I’d like to offer you something to make it easier for you to find.”

In Reiki II, I learned an energy medicine technique called the Bridge of Light.  This is an energetic bridge between the earth plane and home, made using Reiki.  I then ask my Guides to bring any of the spirit’s loved ones or Guides to the Bridge, to help when the spirit decides to cross.  I offered the Bridge of Light to Sunny; she looked at it with suspicious curiosity.  “You can cross at any time, or never.  But, please, for my friend’s sake, tone down the heavy, scary vibes.  I’ll ask the male spirit to leave you alone, tell him you don’t mean any harm.”  I stood, and brushed at my arms and legs, sweeping away clinging energies.  “Are we good, Sunny?”  She turned her back on me, but nodded in assent.  Her emotions were quieter now; less angry, more speculative.  She sank again into her own thoughts, fading from my view, and the mood in the room lifted.  Even though I’d left the lights off, it suddenly seemed brighter in there.

I checked in with my friend, and Sunny a few days later.  My friend was happier because her invisible roommates were no longer fighting, and Sunny was more curious about the Bridge, but still wary.  I was pleasantly surprised then when a week later Sunny came and visited me.  She’d decided to cross the veil and had come to say thank you, and goodbye, disappearing into a dark gold sunset.

I waited a few weeks, and then asked my friend how things were going at her apartment.  “Quiet, it’s been amazingly quiet.  I’ve been very happy!”  There was no more emotional turmoil from her spirit roommates, and she could no longer feel Sunny’s presence.  The last thing she said was the best news I could have heard.  “I’ve been sleeping in my bed for the last two weeks!”  She declared happily.

 

All images are taken by and under copyright to ME!  Please ask permission before use.  Thank you!

Friends In Unexpected Places

I’ve worked in a few hospitals, and as you might imagine, they are just full of the spirits of the deceased.  People pass suddenly, people pass silently, and people pass into spirit surrounded by their loved ones at the end of life.  Some move on right away, but some stick around for a while.

One night I went off to take my break.  Since all the other break/sleeping spots were full of napping co-workers, I chose an empty room and stretched out on one of the beds.  Not something I normally did, nor something I repeated after this night.

He rose up out of the floor as soon as my head hit the pillow.

“That’s my bed.”  He hissed, crouched at the foot.  His hands reached and clutched at the covers, but he stayed hunched down on the floor.  I could only see half his face, long and grey, with wispy, flyaway hair.  His eyes were incredibly sad.

“That’s my bed.”  He repeated, with more conviction now.  “Get out of my bed.  It’s mine.”  He seemed to be struggling weakly, and with this odd doubling of my vision, I was suddenly seeing two scenes.  The darkened room as it was, with the covers still neatly tucked and pulled tight, and overlaid on that, a vision of a rumpled bed.  With exposed sheets pulled down over the end of the bed, and my hissing friend on the ground, tangled in them.  His legs were so wound up in them that he couldn’t get up.  I tried reasoning with him; it had worked before with other spirits.

“Look, I just want to rest here for a bit.  I won’t bother you, and I’ll be gone soon.”

“No, it’s my bed!”  He was adamant, and now looked petulant.  “I want to get back in it!”

I sighed, and got up, wandering off down the hall.  “Fine, it’s your bed.  I’ll leave it to you.”  I told him.  But as I walked off, he looked frankly puzzled.  A few minutes later I was back in the room, there wasn’t another place to go rest and take my break.  I dragged a chair over to the window so I could prop my feet up.   I slouched down and told the spirit curled on the floor,  “Okay, it’s your bed, but I need to rest and this place is it.  So, I’d appreciate it if you’d be quiet and keep to your bed.  I’m going to nap!”  So help me, he shut up, still with that puzzled look on his face.  The rest of my break passed uneventfully.

I didn’t talk with my co-workers about my encounter in the room at the end of the hall, but one night the discussion of ‘worst death you’ve ever seen’ came up.  Yeah, late night talk brings up some morbid subjects, but I was so new I had nothing to contribute.  Not so my fellow late-nighters.  One described finding a patient on the floor, tangled in bedding.  She pointed and said, “It was in that room at the end of the hall.”  Of course it was.

A few nights later, my new friend found me, as I was trying to nap in one of the break rooms.

“You saw me, you talked with me.  No one does that.”

There would be no sleeping this night; grumpy spirit had turned into chatty Kathy.  He wanted to know how, and he wanted to know why.  He would find me most nights that I worked, even if it was just to pop in and say ‘hi.’  He told me he found talking to me “comforting.”

Several times I told him, “You know you’re dead, right?  You are stuck here in this hospital, and you don’t have to be.  You can go into the light, move on; you can go home.”  He refused.  At one point, I asked him, why not?  Then, he did something completely unexpected.  I was lying down on a couch, and he moved so that he was standing at my head.  Very gently, he placed both his hands on the crown of my head.  It went instantly cold.

“You’re the only light I see.”  He sounded a little sad when he said it.

It was a very odd moment for me.  He wasn’t trying to harm me, he wasn’t trying to do anything at all, but I could sense he’d become fond of me.  In that odd instantaneous communication that sometimes happens between a spirit and myself I saw what he meant.

He couldn’t see the light; he didn’t know which direction was home.  I was the one bright spot in his afterlife because I was the only one who acknowledged his continued existence.  Any other living person ignored him, either willfully or because they just didn’t see him.  I knew then, that it was incredibly lonely for him, and it broke my heart.

“I am not the light you are seeking, I’m just someone who knows you’re still a person and is not afraid to talk with you.”  I told him.  “It is your choice to go, or to stay here, but you do not need to be this lonely and sad.  You can go home, you can go into the light and be with your loved ones again.  But you have to turn and look for it.  Your loved ones will be there to help you find your way.”  We had this discussion a few times over the course of the months I worked there.  He was afraid, initially, to look around.  Being stuck on a hospital floor was boring and lonely, but it was at least an existence, of sorts.  To try and search out the ‘light’ and ‘home’ that I spoke of was an unknown, and scary.

The reasons a person gets stuck on the Earth plane are as varied as human existence.  While it is true that everyone has spirit guides, it is also true that conditions here in the physical realm can cause them to lose sight of you.  Any number of mental or physical conditions (drug abuse, depression, are just a couple I can think of) can make it difficult for those in spirit to find or connect with those they love who are still incarnate here on Earth.  In an ideal world, when a person’s body dies, their guides and loved ones in spirit are right there to help them with the transition.  But, as we all know, death (and life!) situations are not always ‘ideal’ and a spirit becomes Earthbound.

That’s where I come in; as a psychopomp, it’s my ‘job’ to help get the Earthbound unstuck.  Working closely with my guides, once I’ve established contact with a spirit I can reconnect the Earthbound spirit with his or her own guides and loved ones.  The best way I can think of to describe this is, I ‘light them up’ energetically.  This energy goes out like a beacon that draws in helpful spirits and guides.  I should emphasize that this is always at the Earthbound’s choice, and I have some very powerful guides and allies who ensure that everyone plays nice.

My night-shift friend did eventually find his way into the light, he waved happily as he crossed over.  The love and light he projected in thanks was beautiful.

Have you ever feared or dreaded something, only to find once you were on the other side of it, it wasn’t frightening at all?  What used to scare you, that now is dear, or familiar?

 

 

What Proof Do You Have?

I don’t think proof of the afterlife or the survival of our spirit will ever come at the hands of current science.  The scientific method of inquiry is not suited to studying matters of the soul.  It will by its very nature and a person’s own perceptions, culture and beliefs alter accordingly.

Instead proof, for me, comes in the form of serendipitous connections between events.

One of my last retail jobs kept me working until ten or eleven at night.  My homeward trip took me past the shores of a small lake; a restaurant, a public beach and private homes circled this little piece of water.  It was a peaceful drive because no motorized vessels were allowed and at night the moon and stars reflected in the black water.  I loved to drive past slowly, savoring the gorgeous sight.  Usually I was the only one on the road at that time.

He just appeared one night in the late fall/early winter.  Like Steve the jumper this spirit was soaking wet, shivering and lost.  There was such confusion and pain on his face.  He didn’t appear every night and didn’t catch on right away that I could see him.  He’d just stand in the gravel and peer desperately up and down the street.

The section of road where I saw the young man wasn’t a good area to try and stop my vehicle and it wasn’t a place I wanted to park and walk back through late at night, so my best option was to drive really slow (late, no one on the road, hey it worked) and try to flag him down.  It took a few nights before he picked up on my attention but once he did he was there every time I drove by.

“Please!”  At first that was all I could get from him, then it became “Please help me!”  He didn’t understand why he couldn’t get away from the shoreline.  He didn’t understand why he was just standing there or why I wouldn’t stop and give him a ride home.

“Do you remember the last thing you were doing?”  I asked him.

Images of swimming, laughing and joking with friends that turned to unease, then fear, then panic as he lost them in the dark.  Thrashing, increasing cold, a spreading heaviness and sinking away from a dimly seen surface along with incredible sadness all came through from this spirit standing at the road’s edge.

“I need to go home!  Can you take me home?”  It became his nightly plea.

I didn’t know his name but I did know how to help him get home; I told him he could ‘go into the light.’  Actually, I sent it as a visual image since lengthy explanations as I passed him were difficult.  Most of our communications were through images or emotions, although I tend to write them out as verbal sentences for clarity.

He refused.  This was a surprise because it was one of the first times a spirit had not wanted to cross the Veil.

“No, home, my house!  My family needs me.”  He clearly communicated that he needed to be with his family.  Which confused me, as the months went by, how could his family not know what happened?  It was a small lake, he went swimming with friends and his fate seemed obvious.

So it went, through the long winter.  In the snow, in the rain, in the breathtakingly clear cold he was there at the water’s edge.  Once he understood he was dead and not just weirdly unable to leave the lake his confusion left him but the sadness remained.  He’d glumly lift his hand as I passed; we ‘spoke’ less and less.

Each time I pointed and said, “You can go into the light whenever you want” his refusal was stubborn.

In the spring, his body floated to the surface of the lake and was recovered.  The local news covered it briefly; a young man went swimming last year and never made it out of the lake.  Because of the cold, his body sank and didn’t rise until the warming waters brought it back up.

The next time I saw him, he was glowing and for the first time I saw him smile.  His family had him back and he felt free to cross the Veil at last.

“Thanks for talking to me.”  He was grateful I’d taken the time to acknowledge him in his loneliness and confusion.

His farewell wave was joyful as he disappeared, freed from the bindings holding him to the earth.

A Psycho What?

 

Psychopomps deal with the dead.  With death.

Dying.

Whether we want to admit it or not, each of us is fascinated with death.  Death touches us all.  Whether it’s the horror of our younger self upon discovering our first expired little gold fishy or the screaming, tearing, aching loss of a beloved.  The kind of loss that makes you long for death too.  Yeah, you know that one, don’t you?

Some of us are obsessed with our own death:  denying, avoiding it, welcoming it, and embracing it.

Religions of the world comfort or terrorize us with their versions of the afterlife.  Teenagers are constantly on the brink of expiring, as in:

“But if you don’t let me go to the mall with my friends I’ll just die!”

At some point, everyone has (or will) truly wanted to die.

Clinically, death is defined as the permanent cessation of all vital bodily functions.  Thank you MedicineNet.com.

Does that mean we just stop, cease to exist?  Is it truly just like flicking the proverbial light switch?  ON:  you’re there.  OFF:  blankness, nothingness.  If all you’re considering is the physical body, then the answer is yes.

But what about that vital part that is you; the part that dreams and thinks, talks and loves?  Your mind, your personality, your soul?  According to all the spirits I’ve spoken with, physical death of the body is only one transition of many.

I’ve been in ICU’s; I’ve seen death firsthand.  I’ve held my beloved animal companions as the pink juice entered their veins and eased their final pains.  I’ve also killed animals to make food.

I’ve watched spirits cross the veil and shine brighter than the sun with the joy of finally going home.  When they turn back to smile and wave at you in thanks, it feels like being swept up in a loving, grateful hug and the very atmosphere sparkles and vibrates.

I can tell you this; that vital spark that is you, your essence, your soul, is eternal.  The part that is ‘you’ will continue to exist when the body that currently carries it is nothing but drifting dust motes.

In that sense, we do not die.  We only use a body for a while to experience the physical plane.

Think of a body like a car.  Maybe you’ve a pretty good one right now; sweet, fast and oh so pretty to play with.  But as the years go by things break down and that glossy paint job starts to oxidize.  Eventually, you’re going to want to trade it in for another, maybe an SUV this time instead of sports car.  Before you know it, you’ve forgotten all about that old junker and are busy playing in your shiny new SUV.

Yes, I mean reincarnation.

What about god, heaven, hell or the Bible, Koran or Torah?  Of the three, I’ve only completely read the first and someday I’m sure I’ll go into my opinions and experiences with religion.  Right now though, I’ll say; religion is a great comfort and spiritual fulfillment for many and I fully respect that.  So if Jesus and his camp, or Mohammed speak to you and satisfy you, then rock on!  I celebrate with you!

Are you Buddhist?  Do you resonate with Native American beliefs?

Everyone should experience the numinous.  Really, everyone.  The world would be a better place if all humans would take the time to allow the divine to shine in their soul.  It is our birthright.  The instant that light illuminates you, it changes you.

To know the spark of the divine within you makes it nearly impossible to look at another human being as anything other than your brother or sister.  It  gives you the compassion to look on other beings and see past their negative actions to the core divinity we all possess.

Psychopomp, from the Greek psychopompos literally means ‘guide of souls.’  A psychopomp is one who guides spirits to the afterlife, whatever that might be for the spirit.  Psychopomps can be non-bodied, purely spiritual entities or flesh and blood physical creatures.  Like me.

I didn’t know I was a psychopomp until a few years ago, had never heard the term, even though seeing and talking to ghosts became quite common.  I did notice though, where I had regular contact with a resident spirit, they would eventually ‘move on’ and I would no longer be able to sense the being.

My old lady friend in my parent’s house moved on sometime in my early twenties.

What makes me a psychopomp?  My friend and teacher says it’s in my energy signature, it’s easier for disembodied beings to ‘see’ me.  I’m sort of like a lit-up sign in the astral plane.

Once they find me, I point them toward the veil and call their loved ones on the other side to come and help them cross.

It really is very cool.

I get asked ‘aren’t you afraid?’ a lot.  It’s true from time to time I encounter beings who are doing their best to be big and scary, but typically my answer is, no.  Ghosts, spirits are still people, still related to me on the most fundamental level.  The beings that I help cross are often themselves scared or frustrated, lonely or confused.  It’s a joyful and beautiful thing to watch that fear and confusion drop away, revealing their true self as they cross.

Everyday Ghosts

A shade was hanging out in the corner of the elevator, looming and angry.  It was a short ride up from the parking garage and before I could get a good look, the doors opened on my floor.  A couple waited for me to exit, so I bid the hovering spirit so long.  I knew I’d see that ghost again; he was filled with pain and longing.

His name was Steve.  I saw him several times in an underground parking structure and the elevator.  He was always dripping wet, cold and shivering; sodden hair that looked black streamed down his thin, narrow face that held equally dark and suspicious eyes.  It took me a little while to get to know Steve.  He didn’t entirely comprehend that I was actually talking to him and that I could see him.  He’d been ignored or run from for some time and his thoughts were angry, frustrated and mistrustful.

When he did talk it was with a sullen, depressed air; he’d tell me he drowned in the nearby canal which didn’t make a whole lot of sense.  No one swims in it; it’s kind of a nasty place with lots of big ships passing through.  This spirit was reluctant to talk about the cause of his own demise because whenever I’d try to get longer conversations going his energy would get prickly and irritating, right before he disappeared.  Then one day I saw him standing in a dark corner across from my truck.

“Hey there.”  I said, cautiously.  He hadn’t yet told me his name.  He grabbed anxiously at his left elbow, a reflexive tic and glanced furtively side-to-side.

“Hi.”  It no longer held a sullen tone, but was still cautious.  “You really can see me.  No one else can.  It’s weird.”

I shrugged.

“It’s sort of what I do.”  I said.

“I can tell some people know I’m around, but it scares them, and they don’t ever look at me or talk to me.  Sometimes they jump.”  That brought on a tiny, spiteful smile.

“That must be pretty frustrating, all these people around and no one wants to be near you.”  He just nodded, now looking hurt.

I am pretty straightforward with the dead, because there’s just no way to soft-pedal it.

“Look, you do know you’re dead, right?”

His dark eyes locked on mine, and I could tell he wanted to deny it, but it would only be a half-hearted lie.

“Yeah, I drowned.”  Instead of trying to get out of him what he was doing in the canal, I just nodded.

“Okay, but are you getting tired of hanging out in this parking garage?”

“I can’t leave.”  He said it with definite finality.  “I’m stuck here.”

I laughed.  “No, you’re not stuck at all.  You just think you are.  Would you like to get unstuck?”  He frowned at me, disbelief once more crawling across his features.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you want to go home, get out of here and go join your loved ones?”

“You mean like, Heaven?”

“Sure, if you like.”

“I can’t, I don’t deserve that and I’m afraid if I leave this garage of where I’ll end up.  This kind of sucks, but it beats frying for eternity.”

At this point, he was still across the driveway from me.  I took a moment to consult with my spirit guides and call them in for assistance.  I felt their loving presence surround me and support me.  I then invited the spirit to come closer, to join me in the car.

“It’ll make it easier to talk and I have to get on the road before traffic hits.  You can ride along with me, and decide if you want to cross the veil or not.”

He blinked once or twice and blinked out.  I felt the familiar astral wind of a passing spirit and then a ghost was seated next to me in my car.  This close I could see the drops of water beaded on his face.

“Do you want to tell me your name yet?”

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”  He was almost indignant.  “If a ghost had talked to me, or jumped into my car I’d’ve freaked the shit out.”

I started the ignition and turned to face him.

“Because you’re not the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.  You just look lost and lonely and like you could use someone to talk to, so I’m offering to talk, but I’m driving out now.  You can come along or not, it’s your choice.”

His head cocked but his attitude changed.  He didn’t smile, but his energy lightened and he warmed up to me.  I drove out of the garage and he looked around.

“Wow!”  Yeah, he really said that.  “I forgot what the sun looked like.”  He was quiet for a few seconds, watching the play of sunlight on clouds and water passing beyond the window of the car.

“Steve.  My name is Steve.”  We were pulling around the corner and up onto the riser of the bridge crossing the canal. It’s quite tall and famous for it’s suicides.  An image formed in my head, of climbing the rail, looking down and the sickly sensation of plummeting.  A few moments later, Steve confirmed he was one of its many victims.

“Never thought I’d see this view again.”  He said it conversationally, almost lightly but I could hear the strain in his voice.

“You jumped?”  It wasn’t exactly a question.

“You know, I really thought the impact would have killed me.  It’s so high!  I was so high.  It kinda sucked, the drowning part.  I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Why’d you do it?  What was so horrible in your life that you thought ending it would solve it?”

Now he turned angry eyes on me again.

“I was a bad person, okay!  I stole from people, I did drugs, and I hurt people.  I hurt my family.”  The last was a mutter and he went quiet, jaw set.  Steve never did tell me why, but that’s his prerogative.

Talking with a ghost isn’t like a having a conversation with your BFF.  They don’t always use words.  Instead they will often project an image, a sensory feeling or an emotion.  He didn’t so much tell me what he’d done as show me.  He was right; he really wasn’t a very nice guy in life.  However, escaping the body means escaping the worries and hang ups of mortal life.  Trouble is, some people don’t let go after they die and that can keep them earthbound.

He rode silently for the rest of the drive, fading in and out, but by the time I got home he was still around, perched on the passenger seat.  Steve followed me into the house, looking around, amazed to be out of the underground garage.

“How’d you get me out of there?”

“You got yourself out.  I just reminded you that you could.”

I went into my meditation space and looked at Steve.  He was prowling around the room, looking out the windows and peering at my knickknacks.  He didn’t seem to notice my spirit guides standing near me at first.  With one exception, my animal spirit guardian, a large black dog who paced to always position himself between Steve and myself.

“I don’t think your dog likes me much.”  He was back to semi-hostile.

“He’s just doing his job and he is kind of protective.  He won’t hurt you though as long as you’re not trying to hurt me or mine.”  I projected trust and confidence with my next words.  “I’m sure you’re not thinking anything of the sort, right?”

Steve relaxed fractionally and became curious.

“What am I doing here, anyway?”

I lifted my hands in a shrug.

“Whatever you want to do.  It’s your choice.  You can wander around this neighborhood, you can go back to the garage or you can go home by crossing the veil.”

I asked my guides to bring the veil in close and to call in Steve’s loved ones, family that had already passed, spirit guides and guardian angels, to come and assist him across and home.

He didn’t want to go.  He saw it and the angels there to help him and kind of freaked.  Still fearful of wrathful deities because he’d done bad things in life, he backed away from crossing.

I asked my guides to pull the veil back and calmed Steve down.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to frighten you.”  I told him.  ”Relax; you’re perfectly safe here.  Nothing’s going to harm you, I promise.”  I did my best to project soothing thoughts but Steve was not listening.

Frightened, he disappeared but was back the next day.

“What’s ‘crossing the veil’ and did I really see an angel?”

We had a little chat about what he had seen; that he didn’t have anything to fear and that his loved ones truly were waiting for him on the other side.  No punishment, no judgment, just welcome home.  It took him several days, but eventually he chose to go and join those waiting for him.  He passed through the veil, waving to me and wearing a smile bright as the sun.  A day or two later he came back to say thank you.