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.
I haven’t posted about ghosts in a little while, and thought I’d share this encounter with you:
Hub and I went out the other night to a friend’s birthday party. It was being held at a club downtown, and the building is well over one hundred years old, lots of history and of course, ghosts! We got there early, and went upstairs and I looked around to see if any spirits were nearby. Hub took one look at my face and knew what I was doing.
I immediately got a hint of a female floating some ten or fifteen feet away. Her hands were on her hips, she had bright curly red hair, and looked disheveled. Her layered dress wasn’t very clean, and her face had the bumps and lines of woman who has lived a very hard life. She glared at me from across the room, and while to me, she seemed to be floating, from her perspective, she was standing next to a fire place. She was projecting a stubborn determination. The building had been remodeled since her time, but she only knew the floor she stood on, and the fireplace she stood by. Her arms crossed and she rubbed her shoulders and upper arms, she remembered being cold, and it was still affecting her. I said “Hi.”
“Yeah, what do you want?” She was surly, she didn’t like being talked to. She sneered and glared at me. I felt her anger like buzzing vibrations against my skin, that then focused on my forehead. “Want to stare at the dead whore? Is that it? Well this is my place, and I ain’t leaving it!” Her emotional vibrations began to give me a headache. She did not like people intruding on her space, did not like that I could see her. She resented being dead, but she also resented that some of the living could see her and treated her like a circus freak. She only wanted to be left alone and she wanted nothing more than to push my attention away.
“Alright.” I pulled back, and actually turned my head away from the spot she hovered in, rubbing the center of my forehead, which was still twitching and vibrating from intensity of her anger. Hub noticed and asked, “Are you getting anything?” “Yeah,” I answered, “But she’s not very happy. She’s over there.” I gestured and described the redhead and the fireplace. “She doesn’t really want to talk.”
“Oh really? Why not?” Hub wanted to know, and looking over he addressed the spot where she was still glaring. “We just want to talk a little. Nothing wrong with that, right?” I watched as a new look came over her face, surprise, and her anger started to melt.
“Who’s that?” She wanted to know. “Is that a man?” The spirit was suddenly interested. “That’s my husband.” I told her. Anger vanished and now she sparkled. She didn’t exactly become beautiful, but she did put on a smile and said. “A man! It’s been a long time since I talked to a man. Well, hello handsome!”
I don’t know exactly why this is, but dead cannot always see the living; maybe they’re too caught up in the memories of their lives. This was the first time I’d experienced a spirit not-seeing, then seeing a person next to me. Perhaps it was just a matter of her following where my attention went. Watching her transformation though, made me laugh, and I had to tell Hub what she’d said. I tried to mimic the lilt she put into her voice, which made us both laugh again.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us? That’s the polite thing to do, you know.” She demanded. I presented Hub, who waved and said “Hi.” He then asked me what her name was. “Ruby.” She answered. “He really is handsome, how’d you get so lucky? What a catch!” This really was a first for me, a ghost cooing over my husband. I described Ruby’s exclamations, and praise, which made us both laugh, and him glow. “Even the dead girls love me!”
Ruby’s whole attitude changed, especially when Hub joked with her flirtatiously. “Oh, I like him!” She forgot about her anger, but she still didn’t really want to talk to me. When I tried to offer to help her cross to the other side, she refused. “Nah! I’m okay here. Tell your cutie pie I said good bye.” Then she faded from my sight. Naturally I passed on her farewells, which made us both laugh again.
Not every spirit wants or is ready to move on, Ruby clearly wasn’t. I don’t try and force them, or make them cross over, in fact, I’m not sure I could. It’s always at the spirits own choice. Ruby didn’t put in any more appearances, and we left later on without any more ghostly encounters. But Hub was more than pleased that he’d finally spoken to a ghost.
There are spirits all around you. Your own Guides, your loved ones who have already passed (human and animal by the way) want to be near you and look in on you. My first dog, a big, shaggy black beast is always near me; he has quite clearly told me he would very much like to come back soon and live with me again.
The city of I live in has a rich history, and many old buildings with layers and layers of stories in their walls. It is not hard to find a wandering spirit on any given occasion. It’s been my experience that if they know I can see them, a few common reactions occur.
The Scary Dance
They try to scare me. If the being is carrying a lot of heavy energy and emotions, the only way he or she knows how to communicate is through anger, hate and fear. Also, they can often get a reaction out of the living by sending out such heavy vibrations. If they have enough energy, they may manifest: a form, moving an object, sounds. Spirits are sometimes a little like dogs or small children; any attention, even if it’s negative, is reinforcing to them. It makes sense too. Heck, if I could see and hear everything that was going on around me, but everyone ignored, or walked through me, I’d probably get annoyed and start throwing things too.
The “How I Died” Movie
Especially if the death was traumatic, they want to tell me about it. Make that show me. I’ve been shown being drowned, stabbed, shot, suicide, and being surrounded by family members saying goodbye.
Afterlife Message Service
“Tell my family…” As much as I would love to pass on every ‘I love you, I miss you, I’m okay’ the reality is often the family isn’t even present on the earth anymore to give a message to.
For those who have passed over, and even for those who haven’t the message is the same: They’re okay. They still exist, their personality survives even though the body may be long gone. And they love you.
Time To Go Home
What I can do for spirits is offer to help them cross the Veil.
There’s lots and lots of ways to conceptualize this, ‘going into the light,’ ‘crossing over,’ etc. Basically it’s when a spirit that is bound to the earth releases that binding and steps into the next realm, the true home of our spirit.
Spirits that are stuck here on Earth cannot move on for any number of reasons, traumatic death, unfinished business, an inability to let go of life, the list goes on and on and on. It includes the ties of loved ones among the living who refuse to release the one who has passed on.
Not all of them want to go. Some are fully aware that they’re dead, that home waits on the other side, but they want to stay attached for a time.
Crossing the Veil releases that binding; it is always by the being’s own free choice. I don’t ‘make’ a spirit cross; I only point the way, although sometimes that process of pointing and explaining can get quite involved. My Guides assist; they help by calling in the earthbound spirit’s own Guides and loved ones who show the bound spirit the way home.
Some of the most wonderful crossings I’ve ever seen are those of the darkest entities I’ve encountered. These beings are filled with pain, fear and hopelessness and frequently project quite intense feelings of hate or anger. When they cross the Veil, they release all of that heaviness and become once again their true, light selves. It’s almost like an explosion of love and joy; the whole energy of the room changes, going from dark, prickly and uncomfortable to almost unbearably beautiful.
All photos are taken by and under copyright to ME! Please ask permission before use. Thank you!
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!
I need to say a little bit now about Reiki, because it really has transformed my life. Reiki is amazing, Reiki is healing, and Reiki is simple. About 4 or 5 years ago I took a class in Reiki, and received my level 1 attunement. It was truly a life-changer, but I didn’t know that at the time. Last year I completed my Master/Teacher training; Reiki is something I’m still discovering.
What is Reiki? You can find it defined all over the web as ‘universal life energy’ or ‘life force energy’. It is a form of spiritual energy healing, or you can think of it as a very intensely focused prayer. Reiki energy is said to flow through the practitioner and into the recipient. Reiki can promote healing on 4 levels: emotional, spiritual, physical and mental. Practitioners and clients both claim to have experienced various physical sensations during a treatment, including; heat, light, cold, pain relief, nausea relief, muscle relaxation as well as energetic flows, emotional releases, a sense of deep peace and stress release.
Reiki is generally thought to be energy, universally accessible to all, channeled through a practitioner to a recipient. There is some question as to whether a formal Reiki attunement is necessary to be able to channel Reiki. The practitioner does not generate Reiki from within; rather she acts as a channel for the energy to move through her to the recipient. Reiki is offered, not given or otherwise imposed onto another; acceptance of Reiki and its potential to heal is strictly at the choice of the recipient.
I’ve used Reiki personally to control chronic pain, offered it to friends who were suffering the same, to spirits to help them cross to the other side, and to animals that were distressed or in pain. I’ve felt its effects personally, heard them echoed by the people who’ve received it, and watched animals visibly relax, even fall asleep, under its influence.
More than the immediate pain relief or relaxation, Reiki provides me with deep, personal satisfaction, and an abiding sense of peace. I use Reiki every day, and over the years I’ve found my attitudes changing on certain issues. I find that things that used to irritate me before: too long a line at the grocery store, whining, crying kids, or petty, mean spirited people, now I find it much easier to step back, and see people and situations with greater compassion. I stress less about the little things, and the bigger things too. I used to be a hardcore conservative and now I’m a complete lefty liberal. Go figure.
Reiki encourages it practitioners:
At least for today:
Do not be angry,
Do not worry,
Work with diligence,
Be kind to people.
I am very far from perfect when it comes to accomplishing all of these every day, but I try, every day. I am constantly astonished at how very good it feels.
Have you ever had a Reiki session? Are you a Reiki practitioner? Let me know what your experiences with energetic healing have been!
All pictures in this post are taken by and under copyright to ME! Please ask permission.
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?
But don’t think I’ve run out of things to say. Quite the contrary. I have been busy finishing my first novel. Yes, I write fiction also.
The ghost and spirit stories I share with you here on my blog are all true accounts of my life as a psychopomp. I think, however, I’ve mentioned before that writing has become like breathing to me and this first novel grew from a short story. The characters were compelling enough for me to develop them and full-length book around their initial tale.
Right now, I am in the final editing phase, making sure there are no spelling or grammar errors. In less than a month (ideally) I’ll be putting it out there. Then, I’ll get back to detailing my paranormal life for your here.
So, stay tuned! More ghost stories to come.
Any literary agents or book publishers want to read a paranormal romance featuring werewolves like you’ve never seen them before?
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.
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.