A CONVERSATION WITH THE RECENTLY DECEASED

T.S.: Died 3 August 2005, 17:20 PDT

(Please note: this is the second draft, heavily revised from the first. )

I always say “I’d rather shake the hand of an honest man than a rich man.” I knew from the moment I met T.S. that he was an honest man. I didn’t know him that well, or for very many years, but certain shining characteristics are so rare that, like diamonds to cut glass, they are instantly recognizable as superior. That he was (is) so beloved by so many only increases my estimation of his worth.

He was a solitary man who kept his own counsel. He was tough, smart, and a hard worker. He liked to tell jokes and have a good time. T.S. wasn’t so much cynical as he was dry; not sarcastic but sardonic. He had a sly sense of humour and excellent timing, and he wasn’t afraid to use either of them. He was always honest with himself. He could be proud and stubborn, especially if he felt that he was being compromised or his integrity was being questioned.

T.S. was an alcoholic with an often blatant disregard for his health. I felt that there were some who thought of him as weak and incapable of fully comprehending his choices. But I believe he always acted consciously, and with full understanding of the consequences of his action, even if they weren’t always the “right” choices. And this, I believe, is one source of his beauty, of his honest diamonds.

He was human and he had weaknesses. That did not make him less beautiful, in many ways it made him more. Everyone is, in the end, lost to their weaknesses, whether they are of the physical or the spiritual. The tragedy lies in the shortening of T.S.’s time here on earth, with us. His weaknesses did not diminish him, in my eyes.

T.S. himself told me once, some time ago, when he was still living, “You can sit in a bar next to someone for their whole life and never really know them.” After he died he amended that to “Even if you sit in a bar your whole life, make sure you know yourself.” And I understood that to mean that you must know yourself thoroughly, not just including your weakness, but especially.

We see ourselves in the mirror of another’s eyes. Whatever you have projected onto another is probably a disowned part of yourself, whether it is an admiration or condemnation. And as your Light goes with you into the next world, so do whatever problems you avoid in your lifetime here.

Cancer has been called “the Saint’s disease” because it is the cause of death for so many of the Saints. One writer, I cannot recall who right now, attributed this to cancer’s early silence. Especially in the days before modern medicine, cancer is a disease which must be recognized and acknowledged in order to be conquered.

Very few saints will trouble others with their problems until it is too late. T.S. was not a holy saint, but perhaps he was a sort of secular one. He never wanted to cause any trouble or be any bother. He always discouraged anyone making a fuss over him for any reason—whether a birthday party or a ride to chemo, whether joyful or sorrowful.

T.S. died of cancer related illnesses, after surviving surgery and chemo last year. I have felt since I saw him last- at Christmas- that this was his last year in this incarnation. I believe in death, as in life, T.S. kept his own counsel, and chose his time to leave us. Astrologically, T.S. passed when Mercury was retrograde and the moon was void. The two times when initiating an action has the least consequences. In other words, he died when it would be the least trouble.

The day before he died his spirit dropped in to see me-- I think just to make sure that death wasn’t a dark oblivion. It was if he was just reaching out to see if he could still feel the living through death’s veil. And then something or someone (Angel, spirit, Doctor, Priest, Higher Self, I don’t know what) reached out and pulled him back away, lest he step too far out.

I felt so profoundly honoured that he would contact me, and that he talks to me still, as he is very busy right now, and very needed for many people. I know that much of it is that T.S., or any human spirit, once gone from this world, exists forever in points of consciousness, outside of time and space-- as a thought, a word, a name, a memory, or a whisper of air. So it is not that he, or any spirit, is always necessarily reaching out to me, specifically, but to any who can hear the dead and who will listen.

But I did feel that Tuesday’s visit was to me specifically, perhaps wondering if it were true, that I could talk to spirits, and if he could reach me. And Wednesday night, about six hours after he died, he visited me again, and he showed me a lot of really beautiful things and mysteries “from the other side.” Basically he let me get a peek into what the first part of the journey looks like.

I want to mention here, if you will bear with me, that after reading the first draft of this, it occurred to me that many of the visions I received were answers to questions I, personally, have about death. Further, as I have heard from other spirits and entities that much of life—this one and the next—is determined by our personal beliefs, I wonder now if these visions weren’t tailored for me. In other words, if beliefs and religions are God’s languages, then what T.S. would show the good Father at Saint Francis would be quite different from what he would show to a witch? Moreover, my questions are different from a priest’s—or anybody else’s.

Finally, let me explain some basic structures of the after-life that I understand (and, again, as I have come to understand it, through my own way of understanding these things) that may not be apparent to someone that has no experience with the “supernatural.”

Firstly, there are many components to what we call the human “spirit.” I see the soul and spirit as separate. The spirit of us that exists outside of this world also exists outside of things like heaven, because this is part of the journey as humans, here on earth, in this dimension. Also, all physical things retain a certain aspect of consciousness. That is to say, not all of our body consciousnesses “die” at the same time. Don’t worry, this isn’t like you are being buried alive or tortured, but for roughly 36-72 hours after you “die” you are still pretty heavily tied to your body. This is one of the reasons the spirit is so “busy” right after death. Your travels are restricted somewhat because you are not completely free of the mortal coil.

Secondly, while you are still “here” after you die-- even after your body has been buried or cremated—and your consciousness still exists, you are no longer able to translate certain experiences. That’s why the joke in the movie DOGMA about the dead watching the living taking a shower is only half true. The dead do stay near the living, but the earthly things—the salt of tears, the pain of wounds, the excitement of sex—are not available to dead. They are memories, echoes, just as the memory of the deceased is only an echo here.

Thirdly, I believe that we all have a Body of Light and also “wings” made of light. I believe we have these with us here on earth but that our mortal eyes cannot always “see” them. I also believe in – and “see”—chakras and auras. I have in the past seen different spirits and entities attached to people’s chakras (especially addictions to the second chakra, something I struggle with myself quite a bit). I don’t want to scare anyone, but alcoholism is a dark spirit. It’s not like a demon, but it’s definitely one of Marley’s chains. It binds your Light and continues to need healing in the after-life. T.S. confirmed this, but his is not the only spirit to mention this. Addiction will weigh you down in both dimensions.

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The first thing T.S. told me when I saw his spirit after he had died was “How I wish I could tell one more joke in the bar.” (This is a direct quote.) In death as in life, T.S. understood that the mundane pleasures and ordinary interactions were the source of great and lasting joy. Also, and this is not something that was clear to me until two days later, where the joke was told, and/or who it was told to, was not the important thing, so much as the pleasure it created between the two people. Laughter and friendship create a kind of light, a lasting light. It actually creates it. And it benefits everyone, not just the two people who are sharing the joy and laughter.

When T.S. told me this he was following his body through some sort of procedure. I think perhaps it was in the hospital morgue or at the mortuary. When I first saw him he looked like he had just gotten up and left the hospital bed, but he was becoming golden and fuzzy and indistinct around the edges. He showed me that there is an instant realization, an “aha” that occurs. Basically, that he had avoided God and religion because he didn’t agree with the religion he’d learned as a child. And that not having a more fully developed spiritual life had closed him off to some of the things that would have been helpful during this process.

For some time after you die you are close to your body. This is several days, usually until after the funeral. It’s always easier if the death is resolved on both sides, so it is very important to the living that there is some sort of ritual or ceremony, whether it’s a funeral or memorial service, or even just religious rites. This is for the living, for the door to be closed from this side. Even just the careful notation of the time of death by a hospital attendant can make a difference. I understood this to mean also that some spirits, or parts of spirits, can get trapped here because the door was never properly closed behind them.

However, this should not be misconstrued to mean that if you haven’t attended a funeral for someone that there is still a doorway open between the two of you. If you are part of a community certainly it is important to gather together and honour the deceased. Also, the dead like to celebrate their life with the living. But talking out loud to the spirit, lighting a candle, gazing meditatively at their photograph, or any other ritual that you perform is fine. The more you speak out loud or take action—lighting a candle, dedicating a flower or piece of fruit—for the dead, the stronger the connection will be. The love and prayers you share with the spirits continues to make Light even after they are dead.

Then I was apologizing to T.S. for some things that had worried me but that I could not discuss with him while he was alive. He showed me that during the time that the spirit is still very close to the body is a time when many things not resolved during the person’s life can be worked out very quickly. Because the dead are given what looked like a vessel of gold light. This amazing light can heal anything, but it must be poured out by the spirit to the living. (So it’s best if the person still living speaks out loud any problems or issues that are left between them.) It’s a good time to say you are sorry. Then the deceased can pour some of this amazing healing light onto the situation between you.

Of course, this is all a substitute for resolving these issues when you are in this life. Then that cauldron of beautiful healing energy can be used to help heal the pain of separation and the loss of a loved one. I didn’t think to ask then, but wish I had, if this meant that the vessel is limited. It seems that God would be unlimited, but maybe the vessel is determined by what is created here by your spirit on earth. I don’t know on this. I am just speculating.

There is a lot of paperwork after you die, if you have unresolved karmic issues. Death isn’t to be feared so much as not doing what you needed to while you were here. It’s the “oh shit” of the after life. Your problems are not miraculously solved after you leave this existence. And it’s now more difficult to work out the resolutions. This was shown to me as T.S. holding up a slip of paper which I understood to list several unresolved issues. (Which is why Mediums are more popular with the dead than with the living, I believe.)

Also, what goes onward and upward, beyond your human life, and even beyond the ghost that you leave here—the ghost in echoes, at gravesites, in memories and mementos—is also a kind of beautiful light. It surrounds you like a bell shape and your wings hold it up all around you. A lot like those Sunday school pictures of angels—but the white gowns and wings are this beautiful pearlescent light. I understood from this, also, that all the inconsequential stuff burns away, leaving only the light. But the rattling chains and the paperwork are that which is not inconsequential enough to burn away, but not strong enough to have kept you here physically. (Oddly, pure love between you and other spirits is what creates the strongest connection to this life—indeed to all of life—much stronger than all of Jacob Marley’s lockboxes and chains, and with none of the “dead weight.” This part was partially explained to me by one of my other spirits.)

As T.S. showed me how more of the ghostly image of his body was becoming surrounded by this light, in true T.S. form he joked that he preferred these “fruity wings” to the hospital gown that kept gaping open. And another joke here about, “wearing clean underwear [in case of an accident] takes on a whole new meaning.” His voice, by this time, had lost most of its cancer hoarseness, and sounded much the same as he had when I first met him.

The fruity wings and the amazing light come from all the things you experienced in your life that resonate in Heaven. The more honest, feeling, yearning, giving, grateful, healing, loving, forgiving, and the more of your own special divinity that God gave only you that you brought into the world, this is what that beautiful light is made of. This is your life eternal, a quilt of moments. And here a patch of anger, and here a patch of love, but only what endures in either. A smile or a frown, a sweet smell or a sour one; each moment and sensation of your life spread out as an infinite tapestry.

T.S. showed me parts of his quilt: a joke told to a good friend at the end of a long day. The dark, cool interior of a bar, and the first sip of Courvoisier. The sweet smile of a young friend. A smoke outside on a dark night, alone in the parking lot, with the bar band blaring from the cracks in the building. Whatever brings truth and joy and harmony to your life. Whatever lifts you up and elevates all of human existence. Which I understood to also mean that even though alcoholism continues to be a problem he is dealing with, it did not prevent him from creating beauty. God is everywhere that there is laughter and love. So is T.S.

The sky above, the earth below, the waters around, and the firmament of Heaven within and without. What we create here lives on. The highest spiritual reality can be found here, in this lifetime, as easily as in the after-life. Or perhaps I should not say the “after-life” but quote the famous holy Saint, “It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.” Further, let me quote T.S., the secular saint, as he would finish his cigarette in the parking lot and prepare to re-enter the pub: "I'll have to try this again later."

As a final note, T.S. will be at his funeral and his wake. Someone asked me to pass on a message to him, and I explained that he can hear you just fine. If you are too embarrassed to speak out loud, I explained, you can just whisper. He will answer you by touching you on the shoulder, or perhaps you will feel a stir of breeze, or perhaps you might even “see” him. I explained that often spirits of the dearly departed will inhabit moths and butterflies, or even lightening bugs or flies. After I hung up the phone T.S. asked me, with characteristic timing and a completely dry delivery, if this meant he was now officially, “a barfly.” I laughed and then I started crying. How I, too, wish he could tell just one more joke at the bar!

Praises, Thanks, & Blessings to you, T.S, and for all that I have learned from you, in this life, and beyond!